#so I don’t know if I could live with all that. albeit it’s a nice place

[tye-wig-music]

an incredibly long, draining, at times truly infuriating week spent w my 80 y/o grandma is nearly over.

made all the more difficult because none of the rest of my so-called “family” want anything to do with her, so she feels betrayed and let down on all sides & is incapable of talking about anything for very long without sliding into a tangent about how good things used to be in the past and how awful they are now.

perhaps her modus operandi has always been to find the nearest eldest daughter to terrorise

[rebeccccccaaa]

Too Sweet

______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

_______________

It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites. 

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now. 

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as  you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked. 

“Then why are you calling?” 

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most. 

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him. 

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically. 

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though. 

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.” 

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too. 

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though. 

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh. 

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips. 

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him. 

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper. 

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out. 

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you. 

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them. 

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day. 

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always. 

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself. 

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered. 

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs. 

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you. 

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud. 

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that. 

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl. 

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself. 

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs. 

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together. 

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy. 

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax. 

“Oh god, too much, Spence.” 

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously. 

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly. 

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs. 

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined. 

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined. 

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained. 

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.  

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course. 

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of. 

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him. 

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe. 

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face. 

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle. 

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place. 

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time. 

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp. 

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again. 

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you. 

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax. 

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated. 

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high. 

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts. 

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink. 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before. 

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer. 

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently. 

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted. 

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.” 

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face. 

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read. 

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him. 

“Hey,” his voice was quiet. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing. 

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back. 

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you. 

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you. 

[xx-reverie-xx]

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time I Gave Him Covid”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

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

Contains: pure fluff, Sukuna makes you watch The Human Centipede but nothing is described in detail, pining at the end but he’s in denial

Word Count: 1.08k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Look, a day off is nice, and a few days off could be a real treat, under just about any other circumstances. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that you didn’t even need to add sugar to because the bitter taste can’t affect you when you literally can’t taste it.

You noticed the symptoms a couple hours ago, scratchy throat, can’t taste, can’t smell; you had an extra Covid test under the kitchen sink since you bought a two pack a couple months ago, and unsurprisingly you tested positive. And now you’re stuck in your little apartment for a week, trapped in the confined space with your oversized roommate who’s going to be just thrilled to hear the news.

He’s literally gonna kill me.

As if on cue, you could hear Sukuna’s footsteps thumping down the stairs, his eyes meeting yours as he turned the corner and a look of confusion spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have a job?”

You snort, oh he’s not gonna like this, “I’ve got bad news bud.”

“Don’t ever call me that again.” He shoots you a glare as walks into the kitchen, pulling a glass out of the cabinet.

You roll your eyes, a sheepish grin creeping at the corners of your lips as you prop your cheek onto the palm of your hand, “We have Covid.”

“Who’s we?” He doesn’t even look at you, his back facing you as he pulls a carton of milk out from the fridge and fills the glass.

Even though he can’t see it, you give him a quizzical look, “We literally live together? My germs are all over the place.”

He turns around, leaning his back against the kitchen counter and looking down at you in your seat with a nonchalant expression, “I’ve got a good immune system,” He brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip, “I’m fine.”

You know he’s full of shit, cocky bastard can’t genuinely think he’s above getting sick, right? You look up at him dumbfounded as he casually sips his glass of milk, he’s got a completely blank expression.

When’s the last time we even bought milk? That has to have been sitting for a while now. Oh, oh wait…

Hah, yeah he’s so full of shit. He cocks a brow at the smirk you didn’t realize had grown across your face.

“What’s so funny, brat?”

“How’s the milk taste?”

He shrugs, clicking his tongue in his mouth, “Fine.”

“When did it expire?”

“It didn’t,” He raises the glass to his nose and smells it with no changes in his expression, he picks the carton up and turns his wrist to read the back of it, “It’s good ‘til-”

He stops himself short, his mouth dropping into a small surprised oh, you can’t even attempt to suppress the giggle that escapes you.

You let your arms slide down outstretched across the kitchen table, your cheek pressed against the smooth wood, “I guess we’re quarantine buddies.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

I figured as much.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Your face is buried in your hands, shielding your poor, absolutely tortured eyes from the TV. Eerie music with muffled screams and maniacal laughter emit from the speakers and fill the room as Sukuna outstretches his leg to reach your side of the couch, prodding at your arm with his foot.

“You’re not even watching.”

“This is horrible.”

“This is payback.”

You peek through your fingers, immediately wanting to gag at his disgusting movie choice. The Human Centipede, really? He’s watching it so casually, somehow managing to have the stomach to eat popcorn as well, albeit most of the popcorn has been tossed into your hair from when he caught you squeezing your eyes shut during the teeth pulling scene. Now that was brutal.

“Can we please watch something else? Anything?” You whine into your hands.

“I’ve got the DVD for Cannibal Holocaust.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, flopping your head backward onto the couch cushion.

It’s gonna be a long week.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Woman, how in god's name do I move?”

“You click where you want to go, and,” You lean forward and tap your finger onto your laptop's screen, “Click here.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.” He grumbles under his breath.

You roll your eyes but to be honest, you’re impressed he was actually willing to play one of your games. It seems the last few days of being stuck together have broken him down a bit, and now you’re leaning against his arm watching him attempt to maneuver around The Sims on your laptop.

Sukuna lets out a frustrated groan, “This game sucks, you can’t even kill people.”

You draw back in surprise, “Have you never played Sims before?”

He turns his head towards you, looking completely baffled that you’d even ask, “No? Obviously.”

Oh he’s in for a treat.

Within an hour he’s drowned 4 people, burned down someone’s mansion, got a call to come meet a child that he didn’t even know was his, and let out an absolutely delighted “Oh? What’s this?” when he found the tools to make prison bars. You can’t say you’re surprised by any means, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused.

You’re watching his eyes flicker around the screen, brows furrowed in concentration and his sharp canine digging into the side of his bottom lip as he oh so meticulously picks out the least comfortable looking beds for each little prison cell. You’ve been slowly slouching against his side more and more over the last hour, and he either hasn’t noticed or is too invested in his mass murder scenarios to even care as sickly fatigue has your head resting on his shoulder and your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open.

Little do you know, he’s well aware of your weight pressing into him; but, he’s willing to let it slide this time, deciding that you’ve pleased him enough for him to hold back from pushing your sleepy body onto the ground. Even though it would be hilarious to see the look on your face when you wake up to your back flopping onto the plush rug beneath you, and even funnier to watch you try to slap at him as he holds both of your wrists in one hand, he’s willing to spare you just this once, although he couldn’t possibly fathom the reason why.

It’s not because he’s growing a soft spot for you, no, because that would be ridiculous.

A/N: I wasn’t planning to start with this one BUT I couldn’t stop thinking about this scenario so I guess we get him sick immediately asakjjaan Dividers by @adornedwithlight

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

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOUR HEART WAS GLASS, I DROPPED IT ❆

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you open the door for your warm, ex boyfriend katsuki.

part 2/2. i’m sorry tumblrs not letting me link anything atm :(

inspired by champagne problems

katsuki booked his flight home at night for a reason.

it was dark, meaning no one really would be out. he wanted to be alone and sit there in his hurt. he wasn’t sure what he hated more- the bustling crowds or silent sleepers. both of them had a clear absence of you.

the winter chill seeps into his bones as he waits outside your door. after the phone hangs up, we anxiously wonders if you’ll even answer it. its -26°, and he can only imagine your bundled up in there. its the place he left you standing before hoping on a plane and abandoning what he had with you.

he’s about to turn away, before he hears your voice. “get in here, it’s freezing.”

he immediately obliges, stepping into the familiar space. crimson eyes stare at you, noticing your different appearance. you’ve cut your hair and pierced your ears. theres an ache in his chest seeing you for the first time again. suddenly the apartment began to feel much warmer.

“your hair. its… shorter.” he awkwardly mutters like a teenage boy asking you to a dance.

“uh, yeah. i wanted a change.” you chuckle, no less uncomfortable than him.

he wants to take your hand, but he’s scared he’ll drop it again. your place was cozy, yet crestfallen. he remembered you told him you never particularly enjoyed living alone. you lead him to the living room. there, he sees your cats cuddling, slightly jealous of the companionship they share.

its here he notices that its still chilly, albeit not as cold as outside. he quickly clutches his hands around the warm cup of tea you bring him, taking in the mundane sounds of your apartment. leftovers on the stove, the dripping of the sink, and the soft snores of your feline companions.

“sorry, my heaters still broken.” you apologetically quip, sitting down next to him on the couch. katsuki mentally facepalms himself for that. he said he’d fix it for you before he left.

“yeah. guess i forgot about that.” he says, barely looking you in the eye. if he was gonna break up with you, leave you stranded and hop on a flight out of the country, you think the least he could do is make sure you stayed warm- but no.

“why didn’t you get it fixed yourself?” he asks, his usual gruff voice replaced by a particular softness for you.

you just shrug. “i don’t know. i never got around to it. winter came early.”

the both of you remember when you first got together. he told his family for a reason. he was so excited, saying he found the one. a few months later, no one was celebrating.

love slipped beyond his reaches the day he began doubting himself. he wasn’t good enough for you. becoming the #1 hero in his country only made him wonder more about his worth. he could barely give a reason towards the break up, instead spewing out that he needed to think things through instead.

“..how was your trip?” you break the silence, though you know the answer. his trip was great. the media wouldn’t shut up about it. about his parties and award shows, about the lives he saved and the talents he has. they particularly the people, more so the girls he was with. though you decided not to bring that part up.

he paused for a moment. he knew you would say something about it soon. he was being watched and photographed everywhere he went, which included a few girls who got some videos and pictures with him.

“it was exhausting, more than fun. you know all those girls only care about publicity and attention, none of it was real.” he sighs, taking a sip of his tea.

“i didn’t bring up girls.” you’re quick to remind him. though its nice how he’s so quick to assure any doubts you may have. “but… yeah. i figured as much.”

“you know nothing happened between me and anyone you saw, right?” he asks in a tone that makes it sound like it should be obvious- but its not. katsuki could have went home with someone else, done illicit drugs, drank and had unprotected sex, and it wouldn’t be any of your business.

“it… wouldn’t matter anymore if you did. we broke up before you left, remember?” you say.

theres nothing with katsuki’s memory. he thinks about that break up every damn night.

“um.. least you had kirishima with you.” you quip, just trying to lighten the mood. you get a genuine smile out of the blonde.

“yeah. shitty hair was annoying, as usual.” he chuckles fondly. only best friends can refer to each other like that.

shitty hair was also the guy that kept katsuki from doing something, or rather someone, he might regret. he knows his best friend and he knows where his feelings lie.

katsuki was midas. everything he touched turned to gold. and people adored him for it, revelling in the fame and fortune. but with that superpower comes consequences. not everything should b shiny and gold. sure, his midas touch on the chevy door looked beautiful, but you two could never actually drive it. your relationship shimmered and glistened, but it never went anywhere.

but for a moment, things were good. you’d laugh and smile with your group of friends- though after the breakup you believed you’d never say that word again. now, those friends have the nerve to deck the halls that katsuki once loved you in.

he never was ready, so you watched him go. neither of you just didn’t know the answer, even after begging him to stay on your knees.

you would have made such a lovely bride. what a shamed he’s fucked in the head. even though to him you were the real thing.

he still has your picture in his wallet. he wants to your hold hand dancing, and never leave you like he did ever again.

“…what happened to us, anyway?” he dares to ask, his whisper speaking volumes in the silence. he knows the answer. he knows why he did what he did. but you suppose he wants to know what you think.

“one moment you love me, and your promising to fix my heater… next thing i know, you’ve gotta think things through. and then you’re on a plane to los angeles.”

he flinches at that. kind of a dick move on his part, not explaining things and immediately fleeing the country afterwards. to be fair, it was a pr trip he had planned months before, but if that wasn’t the case he’d still book a spontaneous trip to alberta or somewhere, like the coward he is.

he feels the most guilt when you bring up the heater he said he’d fix. it wasn’t the only thing he promised you. he swore you’d always be loved, that you’d never be alone, and yet he couldn’t even give you a god damn warm apartment for the winter.

“i did love you.” he attempts to correct you, though you focus only on one word.

“did?” you ask, hesitantly.

he pauses again, realizing his slip up.

“…i do love you.”

you shake your head silently, eyes welling up with tears. one falls into your cup of tea. “don’t… don’t say that just to make me feel better, kats.”

but he’s not. he’s saying it because he means it. he’s saying it because he’s kept his mothers ring in his pocket, preparing for the moment he’ll make it your ring.

at this point, he can tell the cold is getting to you. your shaking slightly, your loose sweater respectfully doing nothing to shield you from the winter air. a broken heater neglected by a shitty ex-boyfriend is enough cold.

“you’re cold?” he asks. “no, i’m warm.” you answer sarcastically. its his fault for asking.

he debates on it for a moment. normally, he wouldn’t think twice before pulling you into his embrace. but now, he worries. he wonders if thats even what you want. his quirk keeps him warm enough, but you don’t have that. seeing your reaction to the bitter winter air pushes him to a decision.

“c’mere.”

maybe its the cold, the ache in your heart missing him, or some combination of both, but you don’t think twice before shuffling over to him on the couch as he wraps his arms around you. your head lays against his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.

god, he missed this. even the warmth of LA didn’t compare to holding you on a chilled night.

“you’re the worst.” you whisper, obviously still angry and heartbroken, yet still in his embrace. “i love you.”

those words feel like a confession. he takes it, both the proclamation of his faults and the admission that you still love him. both are true.

“i love you too, dumbass.” he says. “and i’m not just saying that.”

you perk your head up slightly, finally asking the million-dollar question: “..then why’d you break things off?”

he looks at you. he knows exactly why. but he’s not sure if he can break it to you yet. ultimately, he decides you deserve the truth.

with a sigh, he finally speaks. “i… i don’t know. i thought it would be better for you. i thought you’d be happier without me dragging you down, babe.”

you look into his red eyes and determine that he is, in fact, telling the truth- despite how fabricated it sounds. katsuki bakugou, the incredible #1 hero who was the best of the best, thought he wasn’t good enough?

yeah, thats exactly the case. because even through his heroic outside, katsuki wondered if you deserved more. or better.

he sees the confusion in your eyes and decided to explain his thoughts further. “i thought you’d be better off without me, with someone else. i thought you’d find someone better than me who didn’t have such a shitty personality, someone who you’d be better with.”

you shake your head, making sure he hears you. “i know you’ve been doubting yourself since you became #1… wondering if you’re good enough or not, but… i thought you’d at least know you’re good enough for me.”

its crazy to him how easy it was for his fears to die down if he had just talked to you in the first place. he’s learned his lesson.

so he nods, pressing a kiss and an “i’m sorry” to your forehead. you continue talking to him.

“you’re shitty, and you’re kind of an asshole.” you chuckle. “you’re also really sweet when it counts. you remember things about me. you fix things, i guess except for my heater… you’re good to me. you try. you try harder with me than with anything else in your life.”

he couldn’t help but smile a little at the truth in your words. even counting his time in UA, his relentless training to become a hero, katsuki tried the hardest to become better for you. “yeah. you make me wanna change.”

he presses his forehead to yours, just relishing in the newfound warmth. he’s happy, content.

“lets call it even.” you whisper, fingers intertwining with his. “i didn’t think i was good enough for you either.”

he almost scoffs at that. “you’re an idiot for thinkin’ that.”

you roll your eyes. “so are you.”

tags! 🫧

@dragonscribble @rayleeya @brisklofitea @saceaseeds

[quitesins]

Pro Hero!Bakugou x Criminal!Reader

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, Drabble?, Pro Hero!Bakugou, Criminal!Reader, Female!reader, Reader is implied to be younger and homeless, dialogue heavy, ooc?

This happens a right after the events of vol 42/the epilogue, this is sort of a snapshot of an already established dynamic in my head

“You look miserable.”

He seems surprised to see you. Which is weird. Dynamight has always been so hyper aware of his surroundings, especially when you, half-criminal, half-comrade, show up.

“Piss off.” Dynamight grunts, locking the doors to his car and turning away from you. His expression is as frustrated as ever, but there’s something solemn underneath.

“You get rejected?” It’s just a joke, but he stiffens like you’ve hit the mark. “Holy shit, you did?” You can’t let him go, not with this in your pocket now.

He pushes past, albeit gentler than the times you’ve felt him body check you before. He grumbles something, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” He’s at his door now, and though you’ve already trespassed far into his front garden, it feels a bit invasive to peer into his home. “I just never expected you to be interested in that stuff.”

Dynamight’s keys jingle in the silence where he doesn’t answer, his door opens and as always you look away. He stands too still for a second too long, then sighs, turning to invite you in.

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t let you ruminate or even ask, his hand on yours, tugging you in himself.

You’ve only ever been in the doorway, so following him past the foyer, taking your shoes off like you’re about to get comfortable, feels strange and unnerving.

Dynamight slumps onto his couch, head tilted back and eyes scrunched closed. You stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware of how different his life is to yours.

His house is nice. Decorated like a magazine, tidier than you’d expect from a bachelor. His tv looks expensive and even the open kitchen you can see in your peripheral, is stocked top to bottom in gadgets you know cost more than anything you own.

“Stop gawking.” Dynamight’s voice, for the first time, startles you. “‘M not offering you tea.”

“I wasn’t— shut up!” You like bothering him, but this time you become defensive. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah?” Dynamight snorts, an eye winking open to look you over. “Why are you?”

It must be something psychological, to have you in his space for once. You like to spook him when he’s on missions, at stores you could only steal from, and even at the cafe by his agency he likes to frequent. But this is his home. His living room. This isn’t the no man’s land of public space. Where it’s easy for you to dominate, since he’s got a reputation (barely) and all sorts of hero rules to follow.

You straighten your back, pulling a usb out your pocket and throwing it at him, without force but in the direction of his head. “You wanted intel.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till the morning?” He scoffs, catching the thing before it hits his face. “Gone to the agency?”

“Unless you grant me full immunity.” You shrug, knowing he won’t.

“Fat chance.” Dynamight inspects the usb. “This not gonna brick up my entire computer?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I just took it.”

Dynamight frowns, then pulls out a case from under his coffee table. You’re still standing there uncomfortably, so he rolls his eyes and prompts you to get close. You don’t like following his order, and you can tell he isn’t used to it either. Normally you’re the one openly pushing past his personal space, listening to nothing he says. You lean on the back of his sofa, peering over his shoulder.

The case opens to a laptop, one that uses his fingerprint to unlock. You watch curiously as he taps away at something you don’t understand, before pushing the usb in and lighting up the screen in new colours.

Dynamight becomes quiet, focussed as he sifts through files and documents you still don’t get. You had wanted to continue on your prodding and ask why he looked like such a misery tonight, but his intensity makes it difficult to interrupt.

“Fucking hell.” Dynamight sounds almost in awe. “Where the hell did you get this.”

“I just took it.” You’re petulant. “I said.”

“[Name].” The hero’s body turns, and he stares with new authority. “Don’t piss me off.”

You feel small. Even with you standing over him, in his casual wear, a black top and some joggers, you’re reminded he’s a hero. One that lets you get away with a lot, but still a man of power you could never fight.

“Who rejected you?” You’re brattish. “You didn’t say.”

The non sequitur pisses him off, but he doesn’t want to have you running. “It wasn’t— Deku. I asked him to join my agency.”

That somehow makes you feel better. And equal. Like you’ve both just had terrible days.

“I saw him once. A friend, from when I was little, goes to UA.” You almost distract Dynamight with your reminiscing, but he catches it, frowning and prompting you to answer his original question.

“That guy you were tailing.” You remember a few months ago, recognising Dynamight in stealth gear, in a place where you hadn’t expected him to be. “The one with the red hair.” The descriptor makes something click in Dynamight’s head. His eyes go wide and wider with your next words. “He left a window open.” You shrug. “I snuck in.”

“Alone?” Dynamight wipes his head with his hands, frustrated. You think you’ve done something wrong. “Do you have any idea how—”

“I can take it back!” Interrupting him, you reach out to snatch the usb. You feel scolded and it stings.

He grabs your wrist before you can, you look at him with such sourness and he sighs. “Just… don’t do it again. Leave the hero work to me.”

You’re still pouting, embarrassed.

“You did good. Okay?” His hands give yours a squeeze. “You did really fucking good.” A part of you wants that, his approval, but you pull away anyways.

“I have to go.” You’re already walking backwards to his corridor. He follows you though he knows can’t keep you any longer, he’s never been able to pin you down.

You shove your shoes on haphazardly, not caring about creasing or scuffing. He has to unlock the door for you, but before he does he pulls his wallet out.

“How much?” There’s a few large notes in his hand. It’s jarring that he can walk around with so much cash in his pockets.

“Wait.” You stop him with your hands, shaking your head. “Can’t— not tonight— can’t have that much on me.”

Dynamight gives you a look, there’s pity in his eyes. He hesitates letting you go, shoving a 2000 yen note into your hands. “At least.”

The winter air hits you both when the door finally opens. It’s the kind that makes your muscles ache. You step out quickly, already making your way to the fence you hopped over to bother him in the first place.

Before you can lift yourself up, Bakugou calls out, voice uncomfortably gentle. “You got a place to sleep?”

“…No.”

Cut out of a second, there’s a moment where you think he’s wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods, letting you jump over his gate and run off, back into the night.

Because in my head there’s an already established dynamic, I can’t tell if this whole thing only makes sense to me since I don’t need it to be expressed in the details… I did try to add contextualising details but idkkkk eughhhh

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

‘Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

[drabblesandimagines]

Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 --

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

--

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.  It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”  

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[oncasette]

𝗙𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗬

zayne x fem!reader

summary: 1k

“I’ll never tire of this,” he whispers once he’s helped you into your shorts and lured you into the bathroom. He undoes the bobs and pins of your hair as you wipe off your makeup, dropping each piece into the dish beside the sink as he goes. His body seems to cradle yours once he finishes, wrapping fully around your frame as you finish your albeit abridged night routine. You’re far too tired to go through with the brunt of it.

or the one where zayne helps you get un-ready from the day.

masterlist

The walk up to Zayne’s apartment is familiar, a trip you take more out of muscle memory than any conscious thought. Even at the late hour, you’re mulling through a million other thoughts as you round the corner and rummage through your purse for your key. You’re as quiet as you can be, slipping it into the lock and gently pressing the door open, not knowing if your boyfriend was asleep already or not. You hope he is. If only for the fact that he’d worked a late shift and you knew he was stuck with an early one the following morning.

“You’re home late,” his voice sounds from the dining table. You don’t bother slipping off your heels, then, dropping whatever’s in your hands on the small table beside the door and walking towards the voice. Even if you’d wished he’d been all snuggled up in bed, already, you can’t help the warmth that surges through you at the thought of him waiting up for you.

“And you’re still awake,” you hum as you walk up behind Zayne. Your hands find his shoulders and run flat palms along the cotton fabric of his shirt. He’s busy typing away one some medical report, something you might have asked about if the thought of sleep wasn’t already wearing away at your eyelids.

“How was Rafayel’s exhibit?” he asks, taking one hand off of the laptop’s keyboard to rest over yours. He grabs both hands with just one of his and links them at the center of his collarbones. His lips find your wrist. 

“Artsy,” you say. He nips at your wrist. You hiss slightly, scoffing. “It was nice. We got dinner after.”

He nods, tapping your hands once before he lets go to finish typing up his document. It’s a few more seconds of clacking before he’s closing the computer altogether and shifting in his chair to face you.

“I assume that’s why you’re home so late,” he says. The clock on the wall reads just after midnight. His hand finds yours again, thumb swiping soothingly over the back of it.

“Yeah. Raf insisted,” you say just as a yawn creeps up your throat. 

“You could have said no,” he chirps, smiling softly up at you as he kisses your wrist again. You cock your head to the side, eyeing him knowingly.

“You know how he is.”

The laugh that bubbles out of Zayne is syrupy, sweet, crinkling the edges of his eyes. He didn’t laugh like this when he wasn’t at least a little tired.

“Alright,” he concedes. “I assume now’s when we should put you to bed then, hm?”

You nod as you step back enough to allow him to stand. He takes both of your hands in his, using this time to take in the gown you’d chosen to wear to the exhibit. You’d sent him a picture earlier to ask for his opinion, but you guess it’s not the same as seeing it in person. He nods once before pulling you into your first proper kiss of the evening. “Rafayel was lucky to be at your side tonight. You look beautiful.”

“He was also forced to listen to my many many heel complaints,” you mumble against his lips, chasing his mouth for one more quick taste. He must have made some tea earlier. Peppermint, you think.

“I’m sure,” he says as he leads you the short distance to his room. Despite not officially living here, you’d made more than a bit of an impression on his apartment. Especially the bedroom. The nightstand beside what you’d claimed as your side of the bed was full of clutter that wouldn’t have come from Zayne. Your phone charger, your planner, the panda mug you’d used that morning for your coffee. Even still, the sheets had been your decision. A creamy pastel blue with snowflake detailing across it. 

Zayne sat you at the foot of the bed before he knelt down to be level with your heels. He took his time undoing the buckles of the right one, thumbing the edges as he went and placing barely-there pecks along your knees. Then, when he’d finished with the first and placed it neatly beside the edge of the bed, he moved onto your left heel. He moved with a sense of grace that only came with familiar touches. 

“I’m sorry I came in so late. I would have rushed dinner a bit more if I had known you were waiting up for me,” you whisper as he stands, your aching soles hitting the plush carpet. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he hums. Another quick kiss finds your lips. “I wanted to wait, and I had a report to finish, anyway.”

“Still…”

You watch him shake his head as he leaves you to rummage through the drawer filled with your pajamas. Well, mostly your pajamas. It’s partially filled with shirts you’d stolen from him over the course of your relationship. He comes back with a shirt he’d owned since university and a pair of fuzzy sleep shorts. Gingerly, he takes your hands in his again to help you stand before turning you around to unzip your dress. The trail his fingers make down your spine coats your skin a layer of goosebumps, but you’re quickly reprieved when he slips the shirt over your head. You help a bit with your stockings, but he’s ultimately the one dragging them down to the floor and out from under you to toss in his laundry hamper. 

“I’ll never tire of this,” he whispers once he’s helped you into your shorts and lured you into the bathroom. He undoes the bobs and pins of your hair as you wipe off your makeup, dropping each piece into the dish beside the sink as he goes. His body seems to cradle yours once he finishes, wrapping fully around your frame as you finish your albeit abridged night routine. You’re far too tired to go through with the brunt of it. 

“Neither will I,” you reply. You let him lead you to the bed, let him pull back the covers and drag you beneath them and into his side. You want this to be your life for however long you’ve got left to live it. Maybe not here in his apartment, or even in your own, but at his side. 

[logoleptic-since-06]

Every Corner of This House is Haunted

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Angst, Profanity, Suggestive, Reader and Nanami are in their 30s, Cheating (but also not really), Not Proofread

Chapter I ■ Chapter II ■ Chapter III ■ Chapter IV ■ Chapter V ■ Chapter VI ■ Chapter VII

A/N: Incredibly sorry for this one (I just lied, I'm not sorry at all).

Nanami POV:

The one month that flies by feels like an eternity to you. You have sent the divorce papers to your husband over two weeks ago, albeit there has been no response. Numbers have been blocked and as a result, you find emails from him on a daily basis, all of which end up in your spam folder. Your days are spent within the four walls of Shoko’s apartment, working online and looking for your own apartment. And buried deep inside your drawer remains the shining commitment that you wore around your finger with much pride and love for ten years.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” Shoko asks out of nowhere, catching you off guard.

“Where?” your voice is barely audible as you hear yourself speak.

“Suguru is back in town, we’re meeting at a bar tonight.”

Oh? It’s been a while since you’ve heard from Suguru. He’s always been someone you could rely on. Perhaps meeting him could help. You don’t want to spend your life sulking over a man you had to beg for attention from. Hence, you agree to finally leave the house.

You and Shoko arrive at the place before anyone else does. The black satin dress uncomfortably hugs your body. Your left hand burns with the absence of your wedding ring, like being stripped bare of the item that meant the world to you.

“Hello Y/N,” rasps the voice that, if you’re being true to yourself, had enraptured you the first time you had heard it. Something about the seductive voice had always made you giddy. When you finally look at him, you find yourself in front of a better version of the man you had known years ago.

Suguru has aged beautifully.

His long hair grazes over his back, a sweet smile masking his perfectly structured face. You and Shoko stand up to greet him. When you reach out to hug him, you catch a whiff of his cologne– the kind that makes you want to bury your nose in the crook of his neck.

Snap out of it.

Everything about your thoughts is wrong. You aren’t even divorced yet, and here you are having unholy thoughts about another man. Shame digs an endless pit in your stomach, making you take a step back.

The ring of Shoko’s phone breaks you away from your thoughts. Her demeanour shifts when she picks it up. “There’s an emergency at the hospital, I’ll have to leave.”

Within minutes you find yourself drinking in a private cabin alone with Suguru.

“So,” he breaks the silence. “How are you holding up?”

You take a sip from your cocktail. “It’s hard,” the truth easily rolls out of your tongue. “I’ve lived with him for so long, you know?”

“Understandable,” he says as he sits up straight. Did he just get closer to you? “I’m glad you stood up for yourself. It was very brave of you.”

“Thanks, Suguru.” 

Your eyes meet his as you say that, your faces only inches away from one another. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “You deserve much better, Y/N.”

That little statement is all it takes for you to go against all your principles. You crash your lips into his and he responds with equal passion. The kiss is messy, hurried, like you’ve been starving for it– for anything that will validate you. He trails his kisses down to your jaw, making you arch your head backwards. Pleasure takes over you as a moan slips out of your mouth.

“Kento…”

If this moment was glass, you could hear it shatter from a million miles away. Suguru pulls away from you, his face still wearing a heartfelt smile and his eyes still holding an understanding glance. 

“Suguru, I–”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I–”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Y/N,” he says as he stands up.

“I’m sorry…” you look up at him, your eyes glistening with regret.

“It was nice meeting you again, Y/N.”

He leaves you in the cabin as you feel a daunting feeling of guilt churning like acid in your stomach, drowning yourself in an ocean of shame and turmoil.

Tags: @itsafairytalekay  @qualitygiantshoepsychic  @uzuimirika  @coffeeandcrimeshows  @lov3vivian  @lady-of-blossoms  @lavenderdaydream97  @gigiiiiislife  @yeehawbrothers  @heartsforkento  @loveliest-ghostwriter  @darkstudentsaladbakery    @for-hearthand-home  @creative1writings  @corvid007  @realesttruther  @jades-bullshit  @patpatspatz  @yunho-leeknow  @layuhsblog  @luringfantasy

(Hope I didn't miss any)

[hyunjiisa]

line cook ! chan x server reader ₊˚⊹

a @hyunjiisa mini series → “ in my next life, i’m gonna be a rockstar. (i was a ballerina in the first one.) ” pairing no. 1

୨୧

school sucked. your head hurt, your feet were tired, and you just wanted to go home. spoiler- you can’t. you can’t because your schedule got switched around due to it being the end of the semester, which means you also had to switch your shifts at work. luckily your boss was an absolute angel and she made it no problem switching anything around. the place you worked at was kind of fancy, paying pretty well and you got to keep all of your tips. more than enough to pay rent til you got your degree. then, you could finally start living life the way you wanted.

setting your internal rant aside, you check yourself in the car mirror and open your door. you greeted the host at the door, he was pretty and blonde- albeit his hair looked like it was one bleach away from death. he was sweet, telling you where the manager on duty was so she could direct you to your sections. you waved to him, promising you guys would get to know each other and heading to the managers office.

a little time later, you’ve settled in and you’re waiting on a table that has what you assume is a first date going on. the guy is a dick, and it seems like his date thinks that too. he’s been talking about himself all night and it’s only been about five minutes, so you feel for the poor girl. you walk over again to take their order, and, to no surprise, he has some special request that you don’t even know if you can make happen. the girl sends an “i’m sorry” look your way and you just smile and excuse yourself to check with the cooks.

you debate just going to the bathroom and coming out a little later and telling him no, but you did not wanna make that girls date any worse. you haven’t met any of the cooks yet, or even seen them because it was your first table. you hadn’t ran food, just drinks from the soda machine. you know you’re allowed back in the kitchen but you didn’t wanna just walk in and get stared at, so you opt for going up to the counter and peering up over it. you see a boy that looks about your age, maybe a little older? he’s tall (in what world i’m just self indulging) and muscular, some sweat dribbling off of his forehead from being over a stove and you make mental note of your new work crush.

anyway, you figure you need to actually ask him so you just go with the best approach.

“uhh..”

definitely the best approach.

he glanced up at you, seemingly confused up until he actually got a good look at your face and like, basically froze. you would’ve started talking, but he was looking at you like your eyes were hanging out of your head. like, eyes wide, mouth agape, eyebrow furrowed, just full on shocked. you looked back at him, staring just as much as he was because now you had an excuse to do so. it goes on for a while, til he’s just like

“uh, i, uhm. what’s your name ..?”

“it’s ! it’s my first day on this shift, also i think the food you’re cookings burning, but i had a question?”

“oh, thanks. that’s a pretty name.. mines is here on my uh- fuck where is it ?? my name tag!!”

you giggle, taking in his flustered demeanor. not expected, but a nice surprise nonetheless. sadly, you had to actually get back to your job, so you look back up at him and ask him if he could do what you needed. he reminds you of a puppy, sweet smile resting on his face when he assures you that he absolutely can. (he definitely wouldn’t have regularly done that, but that’s for him to know.) you return his smile and go to ring in the rest of the order, bracing yourself for the rest of your shift.

you barely see him for the remainder of it, sneaking little glances and sharing looks when you go to run more food. there wasn’t much of a dinner rush, thank goodness, so the rest of the night went by smoothly. the other tables you had were average, and tips were decent so no complaints were heard.

you were closing tonight, along with the rest of the servers on your shift. after all the customers were out you took the time to introduce yourself, not forgetting to say bye to the host or thank him for earlier. giggling together with your new work friends, you finished what needed to be done and lingered a little longer than everyone else on account of the pretty boy in charge of the kitchen.

the restaurant was warm; you’d never been there at night, and you took time to admire the view. it was the middle of winter, dark and starry, and you could see cars passing by. you found yourself thinking about how weird it was that everyone in those cars had their own lives and they were living them from their own perspectives. before you could get any further into your thoughts, someone’s hand tapping on your shoulder made you turn around. to your surprise (not really,) it’s chris, standing behind you with a nervous look on his face as if he isn’t the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

“hi, how was your shift?” “it was good! was yours okay? it wasn’t that bad tonight..”

the two of you continued on about your respective days, him joking that he was stinky and greasy to see the way your nose wrinkled when you laughed and you looked up at him through your lashes just to see the way he looked at the floor as his ears reddened. you stayed until your manager kicked the two of you out and told you to get some rest. thankfully it’s nice outside, the breeze moved your hair out of your face for you and chris was still staring. you played around with some rock on the ground using your shoe, and he broke the silence for you.

“weird question but can i use your phone for something maybe? mine just died. i promise ill be quick!”

smiling, you hand your phone over unlocked. then, you watch as he opens up your contacts, adds himself to the list, snaps a picture for it and clicks save. what did he save himself as? “cute line cook”. all you can do is laugh, and you laugh so hard you probably look stupid.

“really?? cute line cook??”

“what, it’s not accurate?”

“do you really want me to answer that?”

then he puts a heart over his hand, clutching it and taking a pained expression. he leans against his car that you two were talking by, staring at you looking betrayed.

“really? i thought we were more than that. you even let me put my number in your phone.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head and you tilt it up at him. oddly enough, it feels like you hadn’t just met him for the first time earlier in the day. you feel some sort of confidence blooming over you, and you let your eyes wander to his hand that’s still by his chest. then, the way his lips and cheeks flush in the cold. you look at his car next, it’s nice. black, sleek, very him. you don’t wanna go, but you figure your kitty doesn’t appreciate you being late for dinner.

“go home, you do stink.”

he snorts, opening your car door for you and the gesture makes your tummy feel giddy. once you’re comfortable seated and smiling up at him, he gives you his parting words.

“will you text me?”

“you know i will.”

the car door slams shut and he leans against his car again to make sure you leave.

maybe school doesn’t suck that bad.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ୨୧ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

a/n : sorry this took forever, mama was traveling !! happy new years lovelies i hope your year is everything you want and more !! next one will be a little more romancey but this is just a little something to hold you guys off :) smau soon too !

general taglist for this account : @cosmicalily @zelinkcrossing @hyunjiluvs @nxtt2-u @pixie-felix @0sunshinecryptid0 @jinnieboosworld @lixies-favorite-cookie @eastjonowhere @smlbch @tricky-ritz

series taglist : @modesttiger

if you wanted to be added, removed or move to either you can comment , dm me or ask on @hyunnisa !

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 12

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Chan takes you on a date and you get to see your sister. You and Felix continue right where you left off the night before.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

chapter warnings: smut

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

You wish you could convince yourself that this is not a date, not a real one, but it’s so hard to do so with the way that Chan presents himself. He wears a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. His left wrist is adorned with a golden wrist-watch, a beautiful timepiece that you can practically see your reflection in from how shiny and well-taken care of it is. 

It reminds you of… the necklace he gifted you the night of the gala, the golden rose pendant that still sits around your neck. How had you not noticed it? All along you have been wearing it, a subtle reminder in more than one way that right now, you are the property of Bang Chan. 

And before you had left for your date, Jeongin had gifted you gold earrings to match. It’s what he had bought for you at the store earlier, knocking on your door before you left to tell you, ‘this will match your dress.’ And it does, perfectly. 

The dress you wear tonight is black, reaching all the way down to your ankles. It’s strapless and off the shoulders, framing your waist perfectly. The dress has a gold trim that shimmers in the light, capturing the essence of the jewelry that you hadn’t given a second thought to. You look… 

“Gorgeous,” Chan tells you. He holds out for you a bouquet of your favorite flowers and you try not to think about how he knows they’re your favorite. 

He opens your car door for you and your heart warms a little bit at the gesture before you remember why you’re here. You can’t afford to let your heart be warmed by the man manipulating you into going on a date right now. 

He brings you to the nicest restaurant you’ve ever seen. It’s on a rooftop, and he’s seemingly rented the entire thing out so that it’s only the two of you. The table is candlelit, fairy lights strung around pillars that hang little lanterns above your table. The waiter pours you a very expensive bottle of wine which you sip lightly, not allowing yourself to lose your head. 

“This is nice,” you admit. “Do you take all of your dates here?” 

Chan laughs. “That’s funny.” A beat of silence. “I don’t date.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“My line of work doesn’t really allow time for this.” He waves his hand around in the air.

“But you’ve changed your mind?” 

“I think I’ve made myself very clear that I like you.” You don’t respond. You smile politely and take a small sip of wine. 

The waiter brings out dinner. It’s a full-course meal complete with side dishes and dessert and Chan sees to it that you eat until you’re full. The dinner is nice, albeit a little quiet to start. 

“You seem to care a lot about your sister,” he says at one point. “Tell me about her.” 

“She’s the only family I have,” you tell him. “I know she’s very worried for me. She hated that I dated Jungwon. She thought he was really bad for me but I didn’t listen.” 

He nods along. “Is she older? Younger?” 

“Younger,” you confirm. 

“You’re overprotective of her,” he says. It’s an observation, not a question. 

“I guess you could say that,” you reply. It is the truth after all; ever since you arrived here, you’ve been worried about her safety, wanting to let her know that you’re safe. She is all you have, and when you don’t have a lot it makes sense you want to keep that one thing safe. “I just want to make sure she’s alright,” you tell him. 

“Your sister is safe,” he tells you. “I understand the need to see it with your own eyes, but I wanted to let you know that she’s okay.” 

“You’ve been keeping an eye on her?” You ask. You’re a little surprised that Chan would go out of his way to do so. 

“I have eyes everywhere,” he explains. You suppose that makes sense—why would he go out of his way for you when he could get somebody else to do it for him? You’re lost in thought, and the silence is peaceful. You look over the rooftop at the city, twinkling lights. For a moment you remember that Chan probably owns most of the buildings you can see, and that thought overwhelms you. 

“Do you plan to keep me here forever?” You finally ask. You hate the way your heart pounds hard against your ribcage when you ask. 

“I don’t want you to be a prisoner forever,” he tells you with a grimace. “One day, I hope to give you more freedom once I see that you deserve it. I want you to want to stay with me, with our group.” 

“What if I never do?” You ask timidly. 

“You will,” he says. He gives you a charming smile and you feel uneasy at his words.

“Until then… you’re going to force me to fall in love with you?” 

“I won’t force you to fall in love with me,” he says. The smile is now gone, replaced by a sorrow that looks unnatural on his features. “That’s something you’ll do on your own, one day.” 

“But you’re forcing me to go on a date with you! How is that any different?” you point out. 

“I’m forcing you to give me a chance,” he explains. He looks bashful for a moment, hand scratching the back of his head. “I can see how that may have been misconstrued.” 

You’re silent, staring at him with a forced smile. You’re not even sure what to say. Deep down, you wonder if someone like Chan is even worthy of being loved, worthy of having your heart opened to him. Then you remember that your heart has somehow started to let in Felix after you swore you would never love someone like him. Not after Jungwon. Sometimes, the heart can’t help but want someone that’s bad for you. Jungwon was a prime example of that—a bad omen for what was to come, perhaps. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. You make more small talk, but as you predicted nothing changes the way you feel about him. You don’t tell him so. You’re undecided about Chan, altogether. His worldview confuses you and you don’t like the stronghold he seems to have over… well, everything. You won’t deny that he’s an incredibly attractive and charming man, but you’re starting to see right past it for all of the manipulation he’s done so far. How far would he go to get what he wants? You’re not sure. 

The entire night, you would find your mind drifting to Felix, wondering what he was doing. Reminded of your promise after an interrupted moment the night prior, ‘this isn’t over.’ Just the thought of his hands trailing on your skin and his lips hot against yours has your face heating up but you shake away the thought. You wonder what Chan would say if you told him one of the reasons you wouldn’t give him a chance is because you would rather give that chance to Felix, his right-hand man who has proven himself very deserving of your trust. You would never tell him, of course. You value your life. 

On the drive back, Chan sings along with the radio. You’re tired from the overconsumption of expensive food and a smidge of wine so you don’t notice when you start to drift off. You awake to a hand on your thigh, nudging you awake. You recognize your surroundings—your sister’s house. You’re about to ask how he knows her address when you’re reminded of his words earlier: ‘I have eyes everywhere.’ 

You’re almost expecting Chan to stay in the car when you exit to go knock on her door. Of course he follows you, only a breath behind you at all times. He’s busy checking the time on his watch when you knock timidly on her door, your heart beating out of your chest. After a moment of silence, you look at Chan with furrowed brows and worry evident on your face. You open your mouth to speak to him, but before you can the door creaks open. 

“Y/N?” 

You feel your heart jump in anticipation. When you turn around you see your sister, the first time you’ve seen her in months. Words escape you, they truly do as you jump forward and embrace her in your arms. Tears wet the front of your dress and you’re unsure if they’re hers or your own. It’s all you can do to cradle her in your arms and coo sweet words in her ear, to tell her you’re safe and that you’re so, so sorry. 

“Can… can you come inside?” she asks, eyes flitting between you and Chan standing behind you. You turn your head to look at Chan yourself, asking him silent permission while biting your lip timidly. You don’t really want Chan inside of your sister’s house but you’ll do anything to prolong the conversation. He nods his approval and the three of you step inside. 

“I thought you were dead,” she nearly whispers as she sits next to you on the couch. Your heart pangs in your chest at the thought of leaving your younger sister all alone. Though she is only a few years younger and old enough to have a stable income and a small place of her own, you’ve never given up on the role of protective older-sibling with her. You hate to see her having her own worries about you. 

“I’m not dead. Here I am, I’m safe, I promise,” you tell her. 

“But… Jungwon? He was all over the news,” she explains. This comes as a shock to you–you had expected for the news of Jungwon to be taken care of, to be swept under the rug. Not to be broadcasted all over the nation for everyone to see. You spare a glance to Chan and he simply shrugs his shoulders, nothing more to be said. 

“Yes, there was… there was an altercation,” you say, trying to explain the situation delicately. “And Jungwon died. But Jungwon and I broke up a while ago.” 

Your sister perks up at the news. “A while ago? Why didn’t you tell me? I knew he was keeping you from contacting me so it was about time, but you really did it? You took my advice and got away?” You wince a little bit. In reality, the events that have transpired were so much more complicated than that but you aren’t sure how much time you’ll be given to tell her, Chan looming ominously in the corner with his arms crossed. 

She takes your silence as a response. “That means you’re coming home now though, right?” Her eyes light up for a moment before they dim at your lack of response. “Right?” she repeats again, this time addressed to Chan. 

“I’m afraid your sister has to remain in our care until further notice,” Chan says unapologetically. 

“Your care… Who even are you? I can call the cops, y’know–” she rambles, unaware of the way that Chan tenses up at your words. He opens his mouth for a snide reply that you’re sure will scare your sister to pieces but you cut him off instead. 

“Don’t,” you demand before softening your tone. “Don’t. I just need you to know that I’m safe for now and I can’t come home just yet. I can’t really tell you much more at the moment but if I come home I’ll only be in more danger. Where I’m staying right now… it keeps me safe, and more importantly, it keeps you safe.” You bring your hands up to cup your little sister’s face in your hands, using your thumbs to wipe away her stray tears. “I’ll come back for you as soon as I can, okay? I need you to stay strong though, and stay out of trouble. I love you.” 

You’re fighting back tears of your own. In reality, you’re unsure of when you’ll be able to see her again. This time you got lucky, manipulated into seeing her in the form of an ultimatum. There very well may not be a next time, if Lee Heeseung has a say in anything. But you leave her hopeful and you leave a small part of yourself behind with her. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The ride back home is silent and uneventful. You’re sure your demeanor can only be described as pouting but you would never admit it. Chan seemingly has nothing to say as you fight back tears, though you do murmur a slightly ungrateful ‘thank you’ once you’re finally home. When you get to the door, he kisses you chastely on the cheek, close enough that you can smell the petrichor of his cologne. You wait until he is far enough away to rub the essence of his kiss off your cheek, a childish action but one that soothes you nonetheless. 

When you return to your room and close the door, you all but slump to the floor. What you’re not expecting is the sudden grasp on your hips startling you, your eyes shooting open and cursing yourself for your lack of attentiveness. Before you can let out a startled shriek, a hand covers your mouth and you’re met with a pair of warm, chestnut-brown eyes and a sea of freckles sprinkled across Felix’s face. You let out a sigh of relief and slump into his embrace instead, his hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly into his shirt. 

“Hey,” he replies cautiously, pulling away to inspect your features. “I heard you went on a date with Chris.” He says it not as an accusation but a statement that he already knows to be true, unharmed by it but disappointed. 

“Who told you?” you question. His brow furrows and he hesitates for a moment before giving in. 

“Hyunjin,” he admits sheepishly. 

“I should have known!” you exclaim. “I should tell him to count his days–”

“Woah,” Felix interrupts, his hands falling to your shoulders to ground you. “He wasn’t trying to rat you out. It was more…” he pauses a moment, racking his brain for the right words. “Out of concern.” 

“Concern?” you repeat, unsure of what Hyunjin may have to be concerned about on your behalf. 

“Something about forcing you to go so that you could see your sister?” 

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sorry–” 

“Don’t,” he interjects. He lets out a long, sad sigh and his hands move from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you in closer to him. “You have nothing to apologize for. I understand why you made the choice that you did and I’m not angry, alright love? Not at you. Chris, he just has this way of manipulating things to get what he wants, even if it leaves everybody else hurt. You’re what he wants,” he punctuates by swiping a stray hair behind your ear, “and it’s not fair that you’ve got caught up in his mess. In our mess.”

“Felix?” 

“Mm?” 

“Why do you call him Chris?” 

“What do you mean?” he muses, a small smile splayed across his features. 

“It’s just, everyone else calls him Chan but you call him Chris. Why?” 

“Ohhh,” he replies unhelpfully. He thinks a second. “I’ve known him for a very long time. Since childhood, you know? We both grew up in Australia in the slums. I owe a lot to him, honestly, and he won’t let me forget it. We don’t have to get into it now. In fact, I’d much rather get you out of this dress,” he says, pulling you even closer to him. You barely have time to register his words, trying to let your brain catch up with you but you become easily distracted by his hands on your skin. 

His hands trail lower, lower until they’re touching the backs of your thighs and before you can protest he’s hoisting you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Felix–” 

“I believe we were interrupted yesterday,” he says, his eyes dark and glossy. You breathe heavily when you notice him licking his lips, his tongue poking out gently and suddenly you're crashing your lips against his, messy and breathless and all-consuming. You pull against his soft blonde hair, tugging gently against the roots to hear the breathy moan that escapes his lips. Your tongues collide and you swear you’ve never kissed someone so feverishly. 

You barely notice when he walks backwards with you encased in his arms until he’s falling back against the bed with you now sprawled on top of him, fingers still intertwined in his hair and dress bunched up around your waist. 

You allow yourself a moment to take in the sight of him. A rosy red flush has spread across his cheeks and up to tint his ears the same color; his heart-shaped lips are wet and red around the edges from your ministrations and they’re parted slightly. His otherworldly hair is out of place, flyaway strands present from your pulling and teasing. He looks utterly debauched and it’s all because of you, and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to properly worship him, to trail your fingers lithely across all of the ridges of his muscles and kiss every freckle that appears on his skin. The dark longing evident on Felix’s half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s likely thinking the same thing. 

You kiss him on the lips and then trail down to his jawline, peppering kisses across his neck until you reach his adam’s apple. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss and lick across his sensitive skin, sucking just hard enough to not leave a mark. He looks conflicted between closing his eyes tight from pleasure and wanting to watch your every action. 

When you reach down to lift his t-shirt over his head he’s eager to help you, revealing his toned and well-disciplined body. You stare at his abs, remembering the first time he trained you when he had teased you by lifting up his shirt, revealing his ‘abs of steel’ with a cocky grin. 

“Like what you see?” he smiles. 

“You know that I do,” you remark. 

You’re not expecting for him to grab your hips to move you forward so that you’re sitting properly on his abs, your clothed core dragging across the ridges of his muscles. 

You can’t hide the shaky moan that leaves your mouth which just encourages Felix to keep on going, his hands guiding you through the motions of rocking back and forth on him. 

“Feels good?” he questions, watching the way you fall apart for him so easily. You nod at him and continue to be stimulated by his actions, a high quickly approaching. His hands reach your thighs and tug at the hem of your dress and you nod, more than eager to help him take the fabric off of you. He laughs when you discard the material by throwing it half across the room but stops himself when he notices you’re now completely bare on top of him except for your underwear. 

“Fuck,” he mutters in a husky low-timbre, his hands reaching to cup your breasts. You reposition yourself so that you’re sitting on top of his bulge, relishing in the shaky sound that leaves his mouth when you grind yourself down on him. “I’ve wanted you from the moment we met, you know,” he says, kissing along your neck as he uses his thumbs to tease your pebbled nipples, pulling and tugging at the skin. “You’ve made it so damn hard not to want you. Teasing me when we were training, in the motel…” 

His gaze is fixed on your chest just above your collarbone and as you’re about to question him until his hand trails up to your neck, grabbing at the chain of your necklace and pulling tight until it snaps, falling broken and limp in his hand. 

“What–” 

“This necklace,” he replies, dangling it in front of your face. A gold rose pendant given to you by Chan the night of the gala is no longer in its place around your neck and you make notice as Felix chucks it across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a thump. 

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he says softly into your ear. “Not his. Mine.” 

He half-throws you across the bed so that he’s now positioned on top of you, smashing his lips aggressively against yours. You moan into him and wrap your legs around his waist, arching your back as he nips down your neck and chest, eventually wrapping a nipple in his mouth and lightly dragging his teeth against it. You gasp. 

“Fuck, your noises,” he breathes against your skin. “I want to hear you moan for me over and over again. You gotta try to be a little quiet though, yeah? Need those pretty sounds just for me.” 

You nod at him through half-lidded eyes, watching as he grabs and kneads at any available surface, using his hands to map out every inch of your body as if it were the last time he would ever see it. You can’t help the squeak that escapes you when his thumbs hook in the waistband of your underwear, breath heavy and close to the fabric dampening against your skin. 

“Felix,” you exhale shakily. 

“Need to taste you. Please? Fuck,” he says, his thumb pushing into the wetness over your panties. His eyes nearly roll back in his head at the squelching sound it makes. You nod at him and his face is pushed into your panties instantly, licking at your folds over the fabric in a way that can only be described as pornographic. You rock your hips upward, wrapping your thighs around his head and squeezing in an attempt to get the stimulation you desperately seek. He lets out a low, guttural groan at the action, fingertips bruising a grip into your thighs. 

When he actually attempts to take your underwear off this time, your hips are lifting up and shimmying out of the material with his help. In your opinion, they can’t get off of your body fast enough. You both let out twin sighs when he finally finally dives in, beautiful and melodic, in sync with one another. 

His lips connect with your clit, sucking first before exploring the area with his tongue. He’s skilled with his mouth, flicking it up and down and alternating with slow, hard circles. Your hands come up to your mouth to muffle your moans and Felix’s thumbs push into your hip bones in order to still your movements—you hadn’t realized you were rocking your hips into his face to get more friction. 

“Felix,” you moan again, this time to warn him of your impending orgasm. 

“I know, love,” he murmurs, tongue moving from your clit to dip shallowly into your hole. He’s enjoying this just as much as you are, you realize, his hips subtly grinding into the bed to relieve some pressure from his achingly hard bulge. He alternates between eagerly licking and flicking and sucking, and you’re almost there, so incredibly close, that when he reaches up to mindlessly thumb over your nipple you spill over the edge. 

He works you through your orgasm, not stopping his movements or slowing down as you explode against his face. Finally, when your hips stop moving and you’re done pulsing through the aftershocks, he pulls up from your center. His mouth and chin are wet from your release and he wipes his face, thumb swiping away the excess juices from his bottom lip as he looks at you with a shit-eating grin. 

“Fuck,” is the only thing you can say while you catch your breath. 

“What are you—Woah,” Felix says as you climb into his lap. Though he’s still clothed, your wet pussy sits just atop his hard cock, soaking the fabric of his pants. “Watch it. I don’t know how I’m going to control myself if you start something.” 

You nod solemnly, feigning defeat as you crawl off of his lap. Blinking up at him and his heaving chest, you smile devilishly as you bring your mouth down to his sweats, mouthing at his cock over the fabric. He looks down and lets out a shaky breath, winding his fingers harshly in your hair to pull you up and look into his eyes. 

“Y/N,” he warns. 

“What?” you tease. “You don’t want to feel my mouth on your cock?” 

“I… I, fuck, I do. Are you sure?” You palm him over the fabric, wrapping your lips over his length with the barrier of the material over him. When you look up at him through glossy eyes and nod your head at him, it’s like all resolve has left his body. He gives in easily, malleable to you and lifting his hips without protest when you drag down his pants and boxers in one swift blow. 

His cock slaps against his abs, long and pretty and elegant just like the rest of him. When you grip him in your hand he shudders, coming undone easily with little effort. You lick a long stripe up his length, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he murmurs, his hand coming to swipe a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is awfully sweet for the situation you find yourself in. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” you punctuate, gliding your hand up and down his cock. 

“Then tell me,” he breathes. 

“I’ve wanted you since day one. I’ve wanted you to ruin me, wanted you to fuck me so hard I forgot my name.” You suck on his tip, swirling your tongue around it with a pop while you use your hand to work his remaining length. “God, Felix, I’ve wanted you to pound into me, take me from behind, choke me–” 

It seems like that is his final straw because you’re on your back beneath him before you can even register what has happened. He cages you in under him with his arms, eyes darker than before and breath uneven. 

“Felix–” 

“You think you’re so cute, trying to rile me up, hm?” he asks into your ear, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. He nips at your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and tugging gently; you can feel his warm breath down your neck and it’s no surprise that you’re worked up again. You make to push your thighs together to alleviate that growing pressure but Felix is there within the second, catching your thighs open with his torso and pressing his hips against yours. You can feel his cock against your leg and you can’t help the way your body arches, opens up, begging for him to just push inside. 

“Not trying to rile you up,” you whisper, meeting his eyes before staring at his lips a moment. 

“No?” he hums, tilting his head to the side in an almost mocking-manner. 

“Just telling the truth,” you say. “Just… want you. Need you so bad.” 

“Need me here?” he asks, grabbing his length and rubbing it up and down between your folds. Your breath catches in your throat and you almost cry when his tip catches against your clit. 

“Yes,” you beg, knowing he wants a verbal answer. 

He continues to tease for a moment and you all but thrash underneath him, your head moving from side to side. 

“Felix, fuck, I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me, please? Don’t you want it? I’m ready for you, I’m so wet, just please, let it in, I promise I–” 

He stops your rambling by flipping you over onto your stomach. He grabs you harshly by the waist and slams his cock into you before you can complain a second longer. Pushed to the hilt he stills a moment, relishing in the way you feel wrapped around him before continuing his ministrations, slamming his hips into you repetitively. He pulls you on and off of his length, completely using you for his own pleasure in a way that’s just so delicious you can’t help but moan. You push your face into your mattress in an attempt to muffle it. 

His pace is brutal and his hips snap into yours in a way that is bruising. The only sound that fills the room is his thighs hitting the back of yours and you can feel yourself approaching your high even faster than before. 

“Feel so good, like you’re made for me,” you hear, and you don’t have time to warn him before your orgasm crashes over you. He coos and praises you as you cum, tightening around him and spasming until you can’t move, can’t even make a sound from how fucked out you are. 

Felix isn’t far behind you, slamming into you once, twice more before he pulls out, releasing all over your ass. You collapse onto the bed, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel your actions catching up to you. You’re sore but tingly, and you register weight moving off the bed but you can’t bother to open your eyes. You feel a warm washcloth clean up your back and your naked form cuddles into Felix for quite some time, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your back. He hums a soft but low tune that guides you to sleep even faster, a small ‘thank you’ escaping your lips before you fall into a peaceful slumber, absent of the nightmares that have been plaguing you. 

As your heart fills your chest all the way, you note that you’re happier than you have been since the day you arrived here, maybe even the day you started dating Jungwon all that time ago. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ; @skz-akira ;

@boi-bi-ahaha ; @l33bang24 ; @hermione640 ; @gal82 ; @b-chansbbygirl ;

@kayleefriedchicken ; @notsojourni ; @hogwartslife64 ; @stilltrynafuckingtumble ; @ellelabelle ;

@melleus ; @hyun-bun ; @luminouskalopsia ; @leftovercigarettes ; @sabrina-gal-kpop

@ghostedgameplays ; @wealwayskeepfighting ; @meloncremesoda ; @Lovelino23 ; @honeyybbuubblleess ;

@blossominghunnie ; @sunlitangel777 ; @kkamismom12 ; @slaykanejvetsi ; @eastleighsblog ;

@skzskzskzskzskzskzskzzzz ; @k-keya ; @moonlight-sunrise-channie ; @estella-novella ;

@mbioooo0000 ; @lovemepie67 ; @lemonn015 ; @jaeminie-cricket ; @cookiesandcreammy ;

@jchotch726 ; @cookielixie ; @xxeiraxx ; @chuuyaobsessed ; @anime-addictot8 ;

@raspberrii ; @holdontoitwhileitlasts ; @korthbum ;

[junkissed]

love bug

member — junhui x gn reader genre — fluff word count — 0.8k synopsis — jun takes care of you when you're sick, but you're not the only one who's caught a bug. warnings — reader is sick, mentions of food notes — requested by @lee--felix — we all need a jun in our lives when we're sick :( i hope you're feeling better <3

junhui opens the bedroom door with a creak, his hair peeking around the corner through the doorway to check if you’re awake.

you sigh as you lie curled up on your side against the pillow. “hi, jun.” you’ve been trying to fall asleep all afternoon, but it’s not working. you’re too hot, too cold, too restless, too tired.

“did you manage to get any rest?” he asks as he comes closer, gently sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. you can tell his face is riddled with worry, but he’s trying not to show it. 

“not really.” you shake your head a little as he moves his hand to your cheek, sweeping a few stray strands of your hair out of the way to carefully rest his palm against your forehead. your skin feels hot and clammy, but your eyes automatically close as he brushes his fingers over your head. “i feel icky.”

he frowns, and his bottom lip sticks out in a pout that you’d normally find adorable, if you weren’t still so sick. “i’m sorry, baby. i know you do.” he lifts his eyes to glance at the nightstand, where your glass of water is still full and the bowl of fruit he’d made you is still untouched, and he knows he has to try something else.

“do you wanna take a shower? or maybe i can run you a nice, warm bath?”

you start to lift your head but you don’t have a chance to reply, cut off with a fit of coughs as you turn your head away from him as far as you can and muffle your face in the pillow. jun’s heart breaks as he watches you, his hand sliding away from your face to rub your shoulder soothingly.

“a shower— would be nice,” you croak out softly as your cough finally subsides, rolling back over towards him. you want to be closer to him; even though you’re sweating with cold chills, you still crave the feeling of warmth that you always get when you’re next to him. you know you can’t get as close to him as you really want for fear of passing your sickness on to him, and that’s the only thing that stops you from climbing into his lap and curling into a ball and falling asleep in the safety of his arms.

as if he can read your mind, he gently drapes one arm over your side and holds you, albeit from a distance. it should be him. he’d rather it be him lying here sick in bed instead. but he knows you’d probably be worrying just as much as he is now so it’s no use wishing things were different, and it wouldn’t be a help to anyone if you both got sick together. as much as he wishes he could hold you tight until you get better again, he knows it’s for the best that he doesn’t.

but that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway.

“how about this, honey?” he hums softly, still running his hand along your waist over the blankets. “take your medicine now, and then i’ll help you take a shower so you can cool off. it’ll kick in by the time you get out, and then we’ll get you into some clean pajamas and i’ll put on a movie, maybe make you some tea for your throat and something light for your stomach. does oatmeal sound good? or chicken noodle soup?”

he squeezes your side the slightest bit, tilting his head and offering a warm smile as he looks down at you laying amongst the sheets. you look so… fragile. he can’t help but miss the days when you were bright and happy and full of energy, even though he hasn’t taken a single moment with you for granted. even now, he’s going to cherish every second he spends with you, whether it’s helping you take your medicine or just sitting by your side while you sleep. of course he prefers you when you’re well, but it’s also his responsibility and pleasure to take care of you when you’re not, and he takes this job seriously. not just because he knows he’d get the same treatment from you if the roles were reversed—which, of course you would—but because he loves you.

you let out a little hum of acknowledgement, and his smile instantly grows. even though you haven’t said anything about his proposal, he can tell you like the idea. after a moment you clear your scratchy throat and pry your eyes open, giving him a nod for permission. 

it’s not the most exciting evening you’ll ever have, but it’s exactly what you need right now. jun is exactly what you need right now.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[reminiscingtonight]

Sick Days

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word Count: 883

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s the quiet shuffling that wakes you up.  Despite it being minute, it still grates against your ears. 

The wince is automatic, but the action only sets off more discomfort.

As consciousness starts slipping in, you start to notice how hot and stuffy you feel. Your head’s feeling fuzzy, muscles uncomfortably tender. 

A quiet groan escapes your mouth before you can stop it. All at once the shuffling stops. The air around you is still for a moment before you feel the bed dip beside you.

A gentle hand running through your hair has you cracking an eye open. 

“Less?” Despite all of your muscles protesting, you lift a weak hand to rub at your eyes. Squinting, you try to ignore the steady pain pounding in your head. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game or something?”

Your girlfriend frowns at you, not missing the grimace on your face. “I did. We won. Are you okay?”

It’s your turn to frown, ignoring the way the throbbing intensifies when you shake your head. “No, I literally just laid down and closed my eyes for a second, there’s no way--” you break off before finishing your sentence, eyes widening at the sight of your bedside clock. It read a harsh 9:13 PM, hours after you had originally laid down. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed.

“I missed the game?” This time there’s a slight waver in your voice, sadness starting to pool. In the couple years you’ve been together, you have never missed one of her games. Either watching them in person or on the television, you always made sure to catch it live.

“Baby,” Alessia starts, coming to sit down next to you. Her hand comes to your forehead, frown deepening when she feels the heat. 

Suddenly you jolt forward. Alessia nearly clashes her head against yours, but she jerks away last minute. There’s a slight crazed look in your eyes as you struggle to get out from under the sheets. “Wait, I was gonna make you some food and run you a bath before you got home!”

Alessia gently pushes at your shoulder, making sure to keep you in bed. “Babe, it’s fine. You’re obviously not feeling well.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a harsh round of coughs interrupt you before you can. You only just turn your head away in time to avoid coughing right into your girlfriend’s face.

A hand comes up to rub soothingly on your back as you whine out in discomfort. 

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m not hungry,” you mutter, knowing full well that Alessia’s going to force you to get up regardless of your answer. 

You could count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten sick over the course of your entire relationship. Every time Alessia goes through the same procedure. She’ll run you a bath (ignoring your attempts to convince her you’re fine), force medicine down your throat (you really hated those pills), and then tuck you in with a loving kiss on your head.

There’s no use in protesting, so you let her drag you out of bed, albeit with a frown placed firmly on your face. Alessia rolls her eyes at your dramatics but helps you into the bathtub regardless. She ignores all of your protests that you should be the one pampering her after her game, but she shushes you, more than happy to give you a couple minutes of comfort that she knows will soon be overshadowed by the discomforts of your cold.

By the time Alessia dries you off and redresses you again, you’re pretty much half-asleep on your feet. You murmur sleepily against her neck when she carries you back to bed. 

The blankets are warm beneath your quickly cooling body, and you’re quick to burrow yourself into a nice little cocoon. Alessia’s shuffling around the room again but all you can focus on is the sweet call of sleep, gently dragging you back into unconsciousness.

Before you can fully slip back into dreamland, you hear a chuckle and then feel Alessia’s fingers dancing along the edge of your jaw. “Open.”

You know she’s talking about your mouth but you crack open an eye instead, mustering up all of your strength to glare at the pills in her hand. “You know it’s mean to force a sick person to do something they don’t want to.”

“Boo-hoo, love you too, but you’re still going to have to swallow these.” There’s amusement dancing in her eyes as she takes in your fake annoyance. 

You both know you’ll end up swallowing the pills anyways. You always do, if not just to make the excuse of needing Alessia to cuddle you afterwards.

After you’ve begrudgingly taken your medicine and Alessia has joined you in bed, you roll over to face her.

“Hold me?” Your voice is small, the exhaustion of being sick finally catching back up to you.

Alessia’s quick to tuck you against her chest, arms wrapping firmly around you. She presses a soft kiss against your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my pretty girl.”

You know the next couple days are going to feel like hell, but with the comforting feeling of Alessia everywhere around you, you slip off into a peaceful sleep.

[yanderenightmare]

who's the worst bnha yandere? in your opinion

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, f!reader, Shiggy being gross

fem reader

It’s easily Tomura.

Tomura because he doesn’t care about the most basic of human needs. 

Forgets to feed you. And when he does – it’s always some half-eaten burger, sub or burrito. He doesn’t give two shit if you’re vegan or vegetarian. Shit – he doesn’t even care if you’re allergic. If you don’t want it, you can starve.

Doesn’t give you clothes. He rarely bothers getting himself new clothes, do you think he’s gonna do you any better? No. Wear his dandruff-riddled, old-sweat-seeped hoodie – or wear nothing.

Something else you miss is proper housing – even if it’s just a room with a bed and a toilet. You’ve learned that even that is too much to ask for.

You never stay in the same place for long – needing to switch bases regularly in order to remain low. Never anything he’ll have to pay for, of course – a pick of the litter abandoned office buildings, hotels, and empty homes. 

If you’re lucky enough to find a place with running water, you stay longer. If not, you’ll have to make do for a couple of days – worst case was a little over a week. You still shudder thinking about it. 

He’ll keep you in any room he can lock from the outside – only sometimes blessing you with an actual mattress and not some old moldy sofa or a thin blanket on cold floors.

One time, you stayed in some old mansion one of the league members had found. You suspect they killed whoever lived there before – seeing as the entire house was properly furnished and clean when you all infested the place. 

Not that you got to explore much – Tomura kept you locked in the master bedroom on the third floor – the one where you most definitely would have broken both legs if you tried escaping through the window.

It had been one of the nicer places. One with working hot water and clothes for you to change into – albeit shamefully, sending prayer and thanks to the owner who was no doubt dead and rotting. You were even able to find a stockpile of fresh towels and linens you changed after a week had gone by.

But as the weeks turned to more weeks, they’d all run out – and you began hoping you’d move on to the next place soon. Even with the risk of it being someplace cold and dusty, it would still be a fresher slate.

The nice mansion had gone bad after a month or so – you’d lost track of time. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to air out the dank smell of armpit, ass, and feet – and were allowed to take a shower whenever you weren’t handcuffed to the bed – often able to lure Tomura to join you if only for the sake of washing the stench of decay, dandruff and dickcheese off him. 

But even so, Tomura isn't the most hygienic type. Managing keeping him halfway decent was troubling enough. 

It’s way tougher to keep the room tidy with Tomura’s ill habits of keeping half-eaten food lying around – empty cup noodles and other street junk, beer bottles, and sour energy drinks – along with bloody piles of worn-out clothes, dirty holey underwear, and soggy condoms.

You were driven to the point of disgust that you’d asked him whether he could do you the simple favor of finding and bringing you the house cleaning supplies so you could wash the place yourself.

Oh… how funny he’d found that little comment... 

“Too filthy in ‘ere for yah, is it? Too gross for the pretty princess?”

It hadn’t been the first time he’d made you lick the floor. Face down, ass up – with his bare foot placed heavy and clammy against your teary cheek – two of his fingers stuffing your cunt, and the other two inside your ass – while he sits at the edge of the bed, spitefully stroking his hard dick to the degrading view.

“Tch – such a filthy bitch, and you complain about the scenery?” He sneers – pumping both your holes. “Didn’t know I was fuckin’ such a spoiled cunt.”

You cry at the crass stretch his digits make – but you know better than to fight him when he’s pissed. You only regret forgetting how it’s never been a good idea for you to do much of anything other than nod your head and smile pliantly – open your mouth wide for his tongue, spit, cock, and cum or otherwise keep it shut.

Per request, you keep it open wide, tongue out on the hardwood floor – tasting the grouts of lint and dirt and God knows what – stale and salty on your tastebuds. Or maybe it was the tears gushing from your eyes – soaking your face where you sobbed.

“Tch – shut up.” A hand replaces the foot on your face – dragging you up with a fist in your hair. Pulling his fingers from your holes with a sloppy shlick – before promptly pushing all four digits inside your mouth. “If you wanna clean somethin’ – you can start with this slutty mess.”

You gag at the threat as he shoves all but his thumb down your throat – wiping off your slick, then giving your face a mean slap with the same, now spit-coated, hand – before pulling you up from the floor by your hair and ushering you onto his lap to straddle him.

He wipes the rest of your drool off on his erect cock – standing proudly with a thick flow of creamy pre leaking from his slit.

He doesn’t waste much time before lining up with your puffy pussy-lipped hole and making you sink down on him.

You croak at him going in raw – always feeling extra violated without the thin rubber protecting you from catching his germs as he pushes all his veiny girth inside you until giving your womb a cummy kiss. 

“What’s the problem, slut? Don’t like riding dirty dick?” He huffs, starting to rut against you in no clean tempo. He snickers at your grimace, still holding your hair in a tight pull as he angles your face to his to kiss your tight-lined lips – feeling you cringe even more. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you clean it after I fill this and the other hole up with filth.”

You whimper at the dark promise – and he wipes his tongue across your sorry expression from chin to temple.

“I’ll do you up nice and nasty – so you won’t feel so out of place anymore~”

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland pt. 5

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

Please save Yuu’s dad from the boys in this world.

Turns out the boys at RSA are a different type of annoying

Instead of selfish brutish boy, it’s selfless boy polite boy who lives in a fairytale and doesn’t have the self awareness not to be handing out pre-engagement rings to the first person they fall in love with.

Like he has to give Yuu the “Don’t be a Disney Princess talk”

🦀: Yuu, what’s on your fingers?

🦐: My platonic engagement rings.

🦀: You’re what? W-what’s a platonic engagement?

🦐: They said I was really pretty and could tell I had a nice personality and warm spirit in need of help and a permanent place to stay so they slipped a ring on my finger and said that if I still needed help I could stay with them in their manors and castles and all they wanted in return was my love and companionship.

🦀: That last part doesn’t sound pretty platonic.

🍎🐦: Ah, Yuu, here’s the rest of your platonic engagement letters.

Yuu’s dad snatches a letter and opens one.

🦀: My dear Yuu, I crave your presence and companionship wherever I am. Would you please do me the honor of living with me after your graduation?! Oh God, I’ve made a terrible mistake!

Yuu’s dad shakes the rings off her fingers, grabs Grim, and runs out of RSA.

🦐: Dad, where are we going to go?

🦀: Well we haven’t tried NBC?

~~~~~~~~~~

Spoilers: It didn’t last an entire day due to Rollo’s obsession with Yuu not having magic.

Yuu’s dad literally found Rollo on his knees, hands clasped with Yuu’s, begging her to be with him forever so she’ll never have to deal with those “magic freaks” again.

And so, the father, daughter, cat crew is back at Ramshackle.

Which is also where they see a pile of cards on Ramshackle’s doorstep.

🦐: They’re all Valentines Day cards! I completely forgot today was Valentines Day! Malleus’s card is so sweet!

🦀: Lemme see that. “Dearest-“ ugh- “My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or…Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself. -Malleus Draconia.” Sweetie, you do realize he indirectly called you ugly, right?

A/N: Real talk, do not accept the feelings of someone who offers you the gift of beauty. Please do not accept the feelings of someone who says they love you but is indirectly calling you ugly at the same time. I am telling you your self-confidence will plummet if you do.

🦐: Well…you know what it does sound like he’s saying I’m ugly. He thinks I’m ugly…HE THINKS I’M UGLY!! *Wails*

🦀: Don’t worry baby, he wouldn’t know what a pretty girl looks like if she hit him. Hell, his father probably abandoned his mother when he found out what her face looked like and realized it passed onto his son.

🦐: Dad…

🦀: No boy is going to insult my baby directly or indirectly and get away with it.

And so your dad storms out of Ramshackle, leaving you alone.

🦀: Malleus, come here!

What ensues is your dad grabbing Malleus by the collar and giving him this interesting sentence.

🦀: Malleus, I swear to God that if you ever make my daughter cry like you did with that stupid fucking letter, I will cut your horns off and have them displayed as a trophy.

⚡️: Let go of Waka-Sama!

Your dad drops him to the ground and gets a phone call from you.

🦐: He’s here and I lost sight of him.

🦀: Who’s at Ramshackle?

🦐: Rook! I saw him in the bushes with a pair of binoculars, and when I looked back he was gone!

🦀: Oh for fucks sake! Honey, don’t worry, I’m coming back as soon as I can.

🦐: *the phone call suddenly ends*

🦀: Shit, this is so not good. Maybe the cat got him and burned him to death. I hope the cat burnt him to death.

When he returns to Ramshackle, he finds you dancing, albeit very uncomfortably, with Rook in the backyard.

🦀: Hey! Hey! HEY! Hands off my daughter, French creep!

🏹: Non, Non, don’t misunderstand my intentions. I was simply inquiring her status about a visitation to Pomefiore. Vil wanted to see if she wanted some of his unused makeup.

🦀: But why are you dancing with her? Why were you in the bushes? Why didn’t you text her? You have her phone number! All of you do actually!

🏹: well quite frankly because you blocked us, and who wouldn’t want to spend time dancing with such a girl under the moonlight while waiting for an answer to a questi-Ah!

Yuu kicks Rook in the crotch and your father couldn’t have been happier

🦀: Good job, sweetie! Though you might want to kick a bit lower next time so instead of hitting the base of his penis, you hit his testes. Lemme show you.

Your dad picks Rook up and stands behind him so Rook’s body isn’t sliding downward.

🦀: Take another chance, honey!

You take another kick hitting Rook in his balls. You squeal in delight that you accomplished your dad’s helpful tip.

🦐: Yay! I did it! Did you see that?!

🦀: Sure did! Let’s bring the cat for a night time treat out in the town.

Your dad goes inside to get the baby carrier and Grim.

Meanwhile your first and second year friends are slowly walking up to you out of fear for what they just saw.

🦐: Oh, hi! What are you guys doing here?

♥️: Umm…💧💧💧….we were going to invite you to a beach party *sees Yuu’s dad walking out with Grim in a baby carrier strapped to his chest* but now I think we should leave and let you get a good nights rest for tomorrow’s academic activities hahaha!

🦐: Oh no, I can totally come to the party! I’m just going with my dad to the town for a snack!

🦀: *mouthing: you better not try anything or let anything happen to my daughter or else everyone will find you like this* *moves his hand to Rook’s body on the ground*

♥️: ….Yessir!

🦀: Come on, Yuu, let’s take you out for a snack and then you can enjoy your party.

You laugh and skip along with the your first and second year friends while your dad squishes Grim’s toe beans.