#the shock and bliss on his face when it clicks what's happening

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

[ultramarinaa]

I got inspired to write my own short Champion fanfic, so here you go :) don't mind any typo/spelling/grammar errors, no beta we kayak like Tim

Martin wasn't sure how he ended up here, but he was at Jon's flat. He has been for the last few days, as a matter of fact. Elias had begun to cause a stink about a cat staying in the archives, so Jon simply decided to take Martin–Champion–home.

Not that Martin was complaining. Jon had a nice home, though it seems underprepared for a cat. Jon seemed to be quite the minimalist apart from things he'd like to collect, random little trinkets that took up space on his desk.

Also, not to mention living with his crush that had never dwindled, despite Jon's harshness. Jon treated him like a prince, at least by cat standards, but it's still more attention than he ever gets. He curls up on Jon's lap, on blankets, and Jon's bed had also become his. It was pure bliss (also, Jon's bed head was adorable).

It was also because of this that he'd get quite sad when Jon left for work. He'd meow, rub on his leg, sit in front of the door, but to no avail Jon would leave with a regretful look on his face. This wasn't the biggest of his problems, though.

Alone and nothing to do, Martin decides to take nap on top of the couch. He stretches, extending his claws as he does, and curls up. He dozes off into sleep, but when he opened his eyes, he noticed something was off.

He blinks as his vision clears, and realizes he is laying on the main part of the couch. He shifts, only to look down to see that he is human again–which would be fantastic if Jon wasn't going to be home at any moment. Martin had been missing, though nobody really tried to find him, and he was sure it would be a shock to find someone suddenly in your flat.

Martin gathers himself before sitting up, promptly adjusting to being back in his old and human body. How was he going to explain this? 'Yes, Jon, I was a cat and definitely didn't break into your house'?

Before he had too much time to think he heared a click and then the door knob begin to turn. Ready or not, he thought, and listened to door break as it opened to show Jonathan Sims.

Jon lookes baffled to put it lightly. He stood there, unmoving and unchanging, making long eye contact with Martin. He can feel his face get red as it makes him nervous, and he thinks this is the last thing that should be happening. "Uhm, hi. Jon, I'm so sorry–"

"How did you get here? I–" Jon tosses his bag to the side as he makes his way over to Martin, his voice sharp. Not angry though, which surprises Martin. He sees worry in Jon's eyes as he talks. "Where on earth have you been?"

Martin has to process what is happening, giving a small nod before he starts talking. "Right, I...might have been stuck as a cat?"

"You were Champion?" The tone initally came off as surprised to Martin, but he can see Jon frown slightly. "That's...I'm glad you're okay."

"I touched a Leitner, it was my own fault," Martin says simply. He feels guilty about the situation, but he can't help feeling a sting of hurt knowing nobody actively looked for him.

"If I would have known...I'm sorry." Jon rests his hand on Martin's shoulder, though he has to look up at him. "Elias told us you were taking some sort of break from work. Should have never trusted his word."

"He told you I was taking a break?" He didn't know what else to do other than gesture his hands to emphasize his point. "That bastard knew what happened!"

"Let's give him a taste of his own medicine," Jon said, having a beautiful determined look his his eyes. "Wouldn't hurt to have another cat around the archives."

Martin was certain he was in love with this man.

I fully believe John just wants to have a cat and getting one but also getting rid of Elias at the same time… is a wonderful deal

Also hehehehehee happy ending for cat!Martin, no angst just sillies

Just what I needed, thank you so much!! 💞💞💞💞

[shadowsandshapes]

[Spicy] Smoke and Vanilla PT.2 (Dabi/afab!Reader)

��� summary: after falling asleep in Dabi's coat, you're plagued by the man's scent in your sleep and it leads to a very alarmingly erotic wet dream -- but is it just a dream? ◇ rated: Mature◇ contains: Somnophelia (Dubious Consent), Dirty Talk, Rough Unprotected Sex, Praise, Breeding (if you squint), Slight Name-calling and Swearing ♡ (:  ◇ wc: [1.5K] (Ao3)

Previous Chapter: [HERE]

MINORS DNI 🔪

Dreams were fleeting. Half the time, you didn't even remember them when you woke up -- only vaguely recalling the feeling they left you with afterward. This one, though? This one felt far too real and made your entire body burn. It was too damn hot. Vanilla and smoke. The scent kept haunting you as you squirmed on the couch, images of Dabi's hands on your body flashing in your mind.

What the fuck was going on with you? This didn't happen to you. Wet dreams were embarrassing enough, but one with Dabi of all people? Not to mention how incredibly horny it was making you. Hopefully, this wasn't a sign of severe mental illness, but fuck, were you into it. You moaned softly, thrashing as he touched your thighs and pried them open. Strong hands gripped your pretty skin, undoubtedly leaving a bruise or two behind as he settled between your legs. You just barely caught a glimpse of his face. Azure eyes stared up at you, gleaming with a hunger you had never seen within them before.

"You ready for me, pretty girl?" He asked, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Fuck. Why did him complimenting you hit so hard? This was definitely something you would need to process in the morning if you even remembered it. You just barely managed to nod yes as Dabi began dragging down your underwear. "Say it," he commanded. "I wanna hear you beg."

"Please," you pleaded, surprised by the neediness laced into your own voice. It barely sounded like you at all -- but it was. That realization somehow turned you on even more. "Please, Dabi, I need you so bad." Holy shit -- maybe you were mentally deficient after all. Never in your life did you think you'd be begging Dabi to fuck you. Not even in a dream.

The man chuckled, seemingly pleased with how low you'd fallen for him. You yourself could barely believe it either but you decided to beat yourself up about it later. Right now, Dabi's breath fanning against your aching cunt was sending you into a frenzy. It wasn't until he licked a long, teasing strip across your folds that something clicked.

This wasn't just a fucking dream.

Your eyes snapped open, staring directly into Dabi's as he buried his nose against your clit. His laugh reverberated against your core and you couldn't help but release a sleepy moan. Fuck. You were so goddamn sensitive. Just how long had he been eating you out?

"Wakey-wakey, princess," Dabi teased, pausing the good work his tongue was doing only to slide a finger into you. He gave your insides a few experimental strokes, marveling at your shocked yet blissful expression. You were dripping wet, in no small part due to him devouring your sweet little cunt for several minutes now. He wasn't going to fuck you at first. Not yet, at least. But you had to go and wear his jacket. You had to roll over and present your cute ass to him in your sleep. Dabi had hesitated, but when you moaned his name -- all bets were off. He had to have you.

"Bet you're wondering what's going on, huh, sweet thing?" He asked, bringing his finger to his lips. You watched him eagerly lick your slick from his digits, gathering what was left on his chin and doing the same to that as well. His grin had you feeling a little weak in the knees. Fortunate, then, that your legs were currently supported by his shoulders. They trembled all the same.

"Dabi, what the fuck?" Was all you could manage in protest.

"Don't be rude," he scolded. "Just a moment ago it was 'please, Dabi, I need you so bad~' and guess what? I intend to deliver." His mocking tone as he repeated your needy pleas back to you had your cheeks burning. You sounded pathetic to him. Begging like a common whore. To be honest, you felt a little pathetic for it too. "You want this cock, yeah?" Dabi asked, leaning back to run his hand across his crotch. He grabbed his erection through his pants, showing off its girth to let you know exactly what he had in store for you. Your eyes instinctively locked onto it and you just barely managed to strangle a moan on your tongue.

"Fuck you." You didn't sound as venomous as you would have liked.

"We're getting there, princess. How about you stop being a little brat and let me fuck you nice and hard, huh?" His belt came undone as he spoke. Between Dabi's cock on full display -- thick and veiny, leaking with pre-cum -- and your own arousal gnawing in your guts, you were losing your mind. Dabi crawled on top of your body, watching your face as it ran through a plethora of emotions. Lust was his favorite. You looked so damn lovestruck when he pumped his cock, rubbing the tip against your entrance. Oh -- the little whimpers you let out when he ground his hips were simply delightful.

"Dabi..." you let out, gripping onto his arms as he loomed over you. His eyes were firmly fixed on yours -- their blue hues eagerly awaiting your next move. You were so close to giving in. All he needed to do was give you a little nudge in the right direction...

"Use your words, c'mon. Make my day, (Y/n)."

Screw it. You swallowed your pride. "Fuck me, please."

"That's my girl."

Dabi guided his cock to your entrance, groaning out in pleasure as he slid himself inside. Your toes curled as he filled you up, your walls making for a very snug fit around his length. The stretch was making your head spin. Sure, Dabi had taken his time eating you out, but nothing could have prepared you for the absolute girth of him. You flexed around him -- earning you a deep, almost feral moan from Dabi. His head dipped down and you swore you saw his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, baby. I knew you were gonna be tight, but you're really strangling this dick. I'm gonna make you feel so good, just wait--"

His hips snapped into action, setting a pace that very nearly gave you whiplash. Your legs instinctively wrapped around Dabi's waist, locking him in place as he pounded into you. Every stroke of his cock on your inner walls coaxed a moan from your lips. You couldn't control it. Dabi knew what he was doing and the noises you made only served to spur him on. He wanted you to scream. Nothing less would do.

"Just look at you, moaning like a sweet little bitch for me," he grunted out between thrusts. "You wanna wear my things so bad? How 'bout I put some of me inside of you instead--" Dabi chuckled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The lewd slap of skin against skin echoed in your ears as you mindlessly babbled on, begging Dabi for more. You weren't fully aware of all the things you were saying, but he seemed to delight in how incoherent you had become. Yes. Please. More. Fuck me harder. Music to his ears. Stupid girl. Drunk on his cock. Fuck, he loved seeing your eyes roll back like that. It sent a pulse of arousal directly to his groin.

"Oh fuck," he cursed. Not yet. "I'm gonna cum, princess." As much as he wanted to savor the sight of you bouncing on his dick while wrapped in his coat, Dabi wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Not when you looked so pathetically fucked beneath him. "I'm gonna cum inside, yeah? Don't wanna get any of my spunk on my jacket."

Something about his words sent you over the edge. You came, loudly moaning his name as your thighs clamped down around his waist. Dabi fucked you through it, marveling at the mess you were making between your legs. His eyes were glued to where your bodies joined, obsessed with the sight of your cream gathering on the base of his cock with every thrust of his hips. When his own orgasm hit, Dabi paused to admire the way his cock pulsed with each release. He counted them, losing himself -- every spurt bringing him more and more relief. You took it so well, clamping down on him in your post-orgasm bliss. He emptied himself, briefly pulling out to watch his seed leak from your hole. What a pretty sight it was. Still, he'd rather not have to wash cum-stains from his coat. With the tip of his cock, he gathered it up and pushed it back into your cunt, shivering at how sensitive he was feeling after cumming so hard.

"Damn, that was good." He said, allowing his full weight to rest on top of you. You simply nodded in response, still struggling to catch your breath.

His cock was still inside of you, but you found it difficult to care. You slung an arm over your eyes, trying to make sense of what just happened as you regulated your breathing. You fucked Dabi. After trying on his coat because you were curious.

It smelled of smoke, vanilla and sex now.

A/N: I am UNWELL. This is so filthy, man. The absolute thirst I've been feeling on this fine evening, unparalleled. Let me know what you think of this fic because I am dying to know if I'm the only freak out here.

[Masterlist]

[cutelittleriot]

I decided to name this after what I named It on Ao3

Return to origin

Chapter 7

For the second time since his transformation began he was able to wake up on his own. No pain whatsoever and he is grateful ror that since the horrors he had endured yesterday. He just hopes it isn't going to get any worse.

Stretching he gets up and grabs his robe,thankfully he wore pants to bed last night. He usually doesn't wear pants around his bunker as it's his personal safe space but even he knows to put on pants when there is company around, ESPECIALLY if it's Poppy.

Careful to not wake her up he quietly tries to get out of bed when a strange sensation occurs at the bottom of his feet and toes. It feels similar to.... "You've got to be joking" He whispers out loud. There beginning to grow on his feet and toes were the beginning of pawpads.

Wait something just clicked in his mind 'How can I see this clearly in the dark?' He mentally asks himself. Taking a look around and is shocked to see that he can see perfectly fine in the dark and can navigate around like ot was nothing. 'Ok now this is getting weird,I now have nightvision for crying out loud!' He mentally yells. Deciding to ignore this for now he directs his attention back to his feet.

'How am I going to walk around with these?! What does it even feel like?' He mentally questions himself before carefully placing a foot onto the ground. Luckily he wasn't rewarded with pain it just feels a bit weird sort of like wearing shoes only he can actually sort of still feel the ground beneath him. It won't affect his walking so that's all that matters right now.

Quietly as he can he manages to leave his room and close the door behind him as to not wake up Poppy. Putting on his robe he begins to head to the kitchen to make some breakfast for him and Poppy along with his morning coffee. He decides some cereal would be fine for him and he decides to make some pancakes later for Poppy as he knows of her love for sweet stuff.

For now he enjoys the bliss silence of morning while sipping his coffee and eating his cereal. He soon finishes and wait for Poppy to wake up before deciding to make anything. He takes this time to look over himself again.

"So much of me has changed" He says looking over his grey paws. "Will I even be recognizable once it's over?" He asks himself as his ears lower in sadness. He flexes his claws out again and takes another look at them. He is only able to look at them for a few minutes before retracting them as he couldn't stand to look at them any longer,they jsut remind him that he isn't the same anymore and never will be.

Now that it's brighter in this part of the bunker he decides to take a better look at his feet. Even if he could see fine in the dark that doesn't mean he could see colors in the dark and all that. There on his toes and foot are the beginning of pawpads just like what was happening to his fingers.

This new part of the transformation also makes him realize something. 'Ah sugar that probably means I'm gonna grow claws on my feet too. That is going to hurt alot AGAIN!' He screams to himself mentally as he holds his face with his paws as he isn't looking forward to it at all tomorrow if it's going by pawpads than claws.

"Of course I'm going to have claws on my feet probably good for climbing and you can't just have one set of claws on your hands that's not how biology works with animals with claws" He mutters to himself angrily.

He knows he should be happy that today for both him and Poppy it should be a easy day with no painful part of the transformation but still. He needs something to do but he has no idea what to do today after making Poppy her pancakes. She obviously can't leave cause transformation and the queenly leave excuse.

Knowing her she is going to find something to do she usually always has something to do. He looks at his claws again 'Hmm maybe I can do something for these?' He contplimates to himself as he begins to think of ideas for his new claws as he doesn't want to accidentally scratch anyone even though he highly doubts he will,as he always says it's always good to be prepared.

He has a few ideas in mind maybe he can make some gloves? He isn't a big fan of gloves cause they feel weird on his hands and only wears them when he absolutely has to. There is also the possibility of clipping his claws. He will probably have to anyways over time when they get too long. Isn't there something other animals with claws do to help wear them down?

Oh right scratching stuff that usually wears them down. Well he doesn't exactly have anything he can scratch on at the moment that won't either damage said thing he scratches or hurt him cause it's too hard to scratch and end up damaging his claws.

Sighing he knows what he has to do...he has to go outside again. He doesn't want to but he wants something to scratch on for his own peace of mind and well becuase he actually does want to scratch something.

"Stupid instincts and stupid curiosity" He grumbles as he leaves his bunker. He doesn't need to go far he just needs some tree bark and twigs and he is good to go. He isn't out for long maybe 20 minutes before he is back ready to leave when he decides to do the thing he has been wanting to do.

"I hate that I'm actually doing this" He grumbles as he unsheaths his claws and begins to scratch on the closest tree to see what he could actually do with these new claws. Surprisingly it didn't feel as bad as he thought it actually felt pretty good to scratch at something. It was sort of a stress reliever for him.

He continues to scratch for a few minutes before stopping and seeing just how much damage he did and let's out a low whistle. It was more damage than what he could normally do without any of his weapons on him so that's a plus. The scratch marks weren't too deep barely a centimeter but still that's better than what he could do before he had claws.

Satisfied with his work he sheaths his claws and heads back down his bunker and begins to start working on a homemade scratching board when his ears twitch and he can hear Poppy munching on some cereal.

Going into the kitchen he sees her happily eating away and just as he thought she was growing pawpads just like he was. Her's were a more vibrant hue similar to her hair color only a bit darker. It seems the transformation goes in a specific order so it isn't completely random so that's always a good thing. Bad thing is that she is gonna grow claws tomorrow and that's not going to be fun especially if he is going to also be growing more.

"Oh hey Branch! Uhm what's with the tree bark and twigs? Ya making something?" She asks curious. "Yeah I'm making some scratching boards one for each of us to use." He says going to get some crafting supplies. "Uh why do we need them? I mean I know we are gonna grow claws and all but I don't really see the purpose of these?" She asks him not seeing the point.

"Well it's to help wear down our claws is all so they won't get too long and well scratching at something is also a good stress reliever. Take it from me I felt better after scratching at a tree outside" He explains heading over to his work bench where he does all his projects.

"Ooooh ok, well good news I already know what I plan on doing today" Poppy says grinning. "Oh really what?" He humors her.

"I'm gonna make a scrapbook of our transformations!" She says excited but that stops Branch in his tracks "What?why? Who would want to look at a scrapbook where our teeth fall out very painfully and bloody by the way and where claws have ripped out of my hands?!" Branch really does want to know what goes through his girlfriends mind at times when she comes up with this stuff.

"Well I wouldn't add all that detail I would obviously make it friendly or at least not as graphic" She explains and he just sighs. Poppy is good at scrapbooking and if she can make a book about the history of the Bergans from when they ate trolls for crying out loud not too bad that she even reads it to kids safe than he will trust her judgment.

"Alright if you say so. Will you still be able to scrapbook with those though?" He asks referring to her pawpads and transforming fingers. "Yep this is also so I can get used to these so I can get two things done at once!" She says ever the optimist. "By the way these look so cute and it honestly kind of tickles with how they are growing in" She says giggling as she touches a pawpad.

'Tickles?!' Branchs brain can't comprehend how growing pawpads be ticklish. Then again he has perceived touch and sensations differently so who was he to judge? At least she is enjoying herself and that all that matters.

"Well I'm off to scrapbook, if you need me I will be nearby" She says before walking off leaving him to his own devices. Taking a seat at his workbench he takes out his tod and cracks his fingers "Alright time to see if I can still make stuff as good as I could before with these paws" He says hoping to be the case as he begins to get to work.

After a few hours it seems to be the case as there are 2 completed scratching mats in front of him. Sure he had to accommodate his fingers new shape and size but it wasn't as bad as he thought. He could still move them just like he could before with no complications.

Wiping some sweat off his face he goes to get a drink of water as he decides what to do next. He could get back to that puzzle he and Poppy didn't finish yet but he wasn't in a puzzle mood at the moment. He wanted to do something else but what could he do?

He lays on his couch as he ponders on what to do. While pondering he begins to absent-mindedly scratch at the new scratching mat as it's something for his hands to do while he is thinking.

As he is pondering he looks around as if trying to find inspiration on something to do when he sees a piece of paper on his workbench alongside a pencil when it hits him.

He should write! And not just write anything oh no he should write about this whole fruit situation and information on it since there wasn't any in the library! With this book in case ant future trolls come across it they will know what to do! With a grin he gets off the couch and grabs a spare notebook in case he needs to jot down notes.

Taking a pencil he begins to jot down everything about the fruit that he knows so far. From its looks to its rarity to the transformation. For each stage of the transformation he goes into extreme detail about each one, well each one he has experienced so far at least.

He is so focused he doesn't hear or notice Poppy enter the room he is in. "Hey Branch-" "AH!" Branch yelps at her sudden appearance. Was he really so focused he didn't notice her enter? That doesn't usually happen to him.

"Sorry for scaring you, I was wondering if you have any glue I ran out" She asks. "Yeah in the top drawer on the left over there" He replies gesturing to his work bench drawer. He is surprised though that Poppy managed to run out of glue she seems to always have a never ending supply of it and.....ugh glitter.

"Thanks!" She thanks him and grabs a tube of glue before heading back over to him and sits beside him. "So what ya doing Branchifer?" She asks looking at the notebook that is littered with notes and doodles.

"I'm writing a book om the fruit that turned us so in the future in case any troll comes across it they will know what to do" He explains as he continues to jot down information. "Oooh that's a good idea actually and when it's complete we can put it in the library for all to see" She says happily.

"Yep, aren't you going to go back to your scrapbooking?" He asks looking at her. "I am I'm just taking a bit of a break at the moment is all" She simply says before resting her head on his shoulder. He stiffens at the contact before slowly relaxing and resumes his writing .

Poppy being Poppy doesn't stay still for very long and looks at Branchs ears that would twitch every so often as if reacting to his thoughts. She is than hit with a idea, slowly raises her hand and begins to slowly rub behind his right ear.

It twitches and seemingly stiffens at the contact but slowly relaxes and stops twitching all together. She continues to rub it for fun when she notices that Branch has stopped writing and is beginning to relax at the sensation. Though it seems he has no idea why he is relaxing if his confused look is any indicator.

He soon begins to lay his head on top of hers and a small smile begins to form on his face and she smiles back at him. Who know that getting him to relax all you needed was to rub his ears? She is than alerted to a new sound and sensation.

It's a low rumbling noise and it was coming from....Branchs chest? Her ears twitch as she recognizes it 'Oh my everything Branch is purring!' She can't help but giggle at the display of cuteness coming from her boyfriend. Looks like this is also a new thing from the transformation and she is all for it,she can't wait until she is able to purr as she wonders what it feels like.

Branch is brought back to reality when he hears his girlfriend giggle. Just what was so funny? The last thing he was aware of was a nice sensation on one of his ears and then it was like he was dozing off as he relaxed as it felt good. He now realized that Poppy is rubbing one of his ears,why? He has no idea normally if she is being affectionate she will usually hug him or something along those lines.

The next thing he is aware of is a strange sensation in his chest and throat,along with a weird sound coming from those places too. Just what was going on? It didn't feel bad but he has never felt this before and has no idea how to react. "Poppy what's going on" He asks.

"Branch your purring" She giggles at him. He turns bright red in emberassment. He can purr now?! Oh that's just fantastic! Not!! He will probably die of emberassment if anyone other than Poppy hear him purr. "This is so emberassing are there any more mini transformations I need to be aware of?" He sarcastically asks as if someone is going to answer him and like he thought nobody does.

"Cmon Branch it's cute" Poppy says stopping the rubbing and settles for holding his paw which with her near complete paws feels both weird but also in way right at the same time. "I just don't want to do it in front of others they would laugh at me" He grumbles emberassed.

"I promise I won't do it in front of anyone else it will be for when it's only the two of us" She promises him and he knows she usually isn't the type to break a promise. He can count rhe amount of times she has broken a promise on one hand and he nods at her promise. "You better or else I'm gonna do the same to you becuase remember if I can do it you will be able too soon enough" He grins at her.

"Oh yeah uhm let's not do that" She says not wanting to have every troll in the whole village wanting to pet her and causing her to purr. If it was the snack pack she wouldn't mind as much but the whole village is a big fat nope!

Branch looks at the clock he has mounted on the wall "Its getting late I'll make us some dinner and we can head to bed" He says and Poppy nods before walking off probably going to clean up the area where she was scrapbooking.

After a quick dinner where he cooked some meat and some veggies the two start to do their nightly routine before heading off to bed. Both not looking forward to tomorrow cause tomorrow was going to hurt.

"Hey uhm Branch?"

"Yeah?"

"You will be there for me when my claws come out right?"

"Of course I will don't you worry and you will do the same for me?"

"Yep sure will"

"Thanks Branch well goodnight" Poppy says before turning over. "Night" He replies back as he tries to fall asleep but it's hard knowing what pain await you tomorrow. He got through it once he can do it again.

With that mindset he is finally able to succumb to sleep.

Here are some fun facts about Branch in this chapter

Branch can see in uv Like how nightvision cameras work

His scratching mat is now a comfort and stress relief item for Branch

Branch only purrs when content and truly happy and or safe and usually doesn't do it infront of others and It usually only happens in his bunker or with Poppy who is the only one allowed to pet his ears as they are now a sort of weak spot. Luckily he only reacts that way when Poppy does it anyone else he will not be happy about it and tell them to back off.

Yall don't know what I have cooking up for next chapter it's going to be the most angst filled chapter Poppy and Branch are gonna get whacked with my angst stick

[soulsuckrrs]

ofginjxints​:

Jacqueline was fiercely independent…for the most part. There was something human within her that still craved companionship albeit always temporary. She found herself wanting to satiate both the former and her need to feed in one night. She had no real aim, simply going for where was loudest and easiest to blend into with the flashing lights and quivering hearts.

She had low expectations, simply searching for somebody she could hyperfocus on for just an evening when her eyes found someone who effortlessly caught her attention. How silent it suddenly felt in the chaos.

Elec seemed frantic, shocked, fearful perhaps? She considered leaving but curiosity got the better of her as she trailed behind him, finally closing the distance between the both as she pulled the door open.

“Hello darling.”

                ――――――――――― ⌽ ―――――――――――

Hello darling. Her voice was like an ethereal echo that danced around the room in its potency that threatened to break the blissful cloud Elec found himself floating upon. Oh wait, her voice hadn't been in his head and she was actually there, the click of the door closing behind her centered the familiar enough for his distant gaze for find hers, his brows arching some in surprise that he hadn't been seeing some sort of apparition, a ghost from his past-- well, he had but she was really there, letting the door fall shut behind her to close them both inside the bathroom together. Elec breathed in through his nose, blinking slowly as if Jacqueline would vanish if he wasn't careful and Elec wasn't entirely sure whether or not he wanted that to happen.

"What... what are you doing here?" Elec asked, voice a little slurred and body swaying just slightly as he held onto the sink with one hand, hazel eyes blinking at the stunning woman who shared the space with him. His words hadn't been hostile but there was a sense of wariness in his tone, Elec was no stranger to absurd and chaotic moments, his current employer (and master) was a stickler for things that didn't always end up in pleasant terms but this was Elec's night off-- though he could feel the constant prodding of his witches presence in his mind.

He really did want to know what she was doing there, why she had followed him when Elec had thought it was obvious he hadn't wanted any altercation between them by slipping through the crowd to the bathroom. The tall slender man breathed again, this time exhaling through his nose and shoving his curly mass of hair out of his face before he swallowed and nodded towards the woman. "-- I didn't think you'd be here." In fact, he had hoped no one he knew would have been in this place so he could get lost, absent, and void of all feelings or care, numb.

[robynlilyblack]

Can i be abhorrent and ask that if your requests are open, may I ask for a peter pettigrew request? where reader is friends with the marauders and goes into their dorm to get something, Pete is trying to sleep on the sofa (I'm just assuming they totally stole a comfy chair from the common room and put it in their dorm lol) but he's not asleep yet he just looks it and so she goes over and puts a blanket round him and tries to make him more comfy brushes his hair away from his eyes and sirius lurking in the doorway sees and starts teasing her about crushing on peter and she doesn't even deny it she's like yeah sirius I like peter and if you tell him you're in trouble cuz she doesn't wanna risk wrecking her friendship with pete and peter being secretly awake hears the whole thing?

Never Better

Peter Pettigrew and fem! reader

Summary: Peters had a long day and decides to go for a nap where he accidently overhears y/n confessing her feelings

Warnings: swearing

A/n: 0.8k words, written from Peters perpective, I’ve never written for peter I hope I wrote him alright, I tdo hink this is super cute even though I’m not a Peter girl (tasm peter yes, harry potter no but the fan casted guy is cute), enjoy!

Navigation | Extra Marauders Era Characters Masterlist

Peter dropped all his stuff as he got back to his dorm, sighing as he saw all clothes and work scattered across his bed he had forgotten to clear away. Usually he would have moved it but he was too drained to bother at that point and decided to opt for napping on the couch they had managed to steal for their dorm instead. He lays down, shifting in an attempt to get somewhat comfy before closing his eyes, his mind drifting towards a certain best friend of his to help him sleep

He wasn’t quite asleep when the door opened but he was too tired to open his eyes. Although, the silence did make him a tad uneasy as he wondered if Sirius was going to use one of Remus’ muggle pens to draw on his face again but then he heard humming, quickly recognising it as you and relaxing again.

He heard a little gasp as you must have noticed him followed by the patter of footsteps towards him “Pete?” you whisper but as he was about to speak he feels you brush some of the hair from his face and decides to savour the moment instead

He feels you drape a blanket over him, even slipping off his shoes so that he was comfortable, the bliss however was cut short by another voice “You ever gonna tell him?” Sirius asks, tell me what?

“Shh he’s sleeping” you whisper back, not answering the question

He hears Sirius enter the room, the springs of presumably his bed creaking as he sits “Come on y/n, you two have been attached at the hip for years just tell him you fancy him so we can all stop watching you drool” Sirius teases while Peter tries his best to stay emotionless, bringing the blanket up to his face to hide his smile

“Siri one I don’t drool, that happened one time” you defend yourself while Sirius chuckles “and two I don’t want to ruin our friendship by admitting my feelings and having him reject me”

Peters heart ached that you felt that way “Y/n you ever stopped to think he likes you too?” Sirius questions

“Yes but every time I do I need to pinch myself and remember that it’s just platonic for him” he feels you kneel down, brushing the last stands of his hear out of the way before you kiss his forehead “Don’t you dare tell him” he hears you say as you make your way out “Oh” he hears you come in and grab something “tell Pete I’ll get this back to him later need it for my charms essay” and with that you left

Peter was in a little bit of shock, you fancied him, he was almost so ecstatic he didn’t hear the pen click but he did and when he felt Sirius’ breath nearing him he spoke “Don’t you dare”

“Holy mother of Godric!” opening his eyes he sees Sirius hurdling back and falling over his own feet, landing with a heavy thump on the floor “Oh fuck Wormtail I think I just had a heart attack” he clutches his chest, breathing heavy, the pen long thrown somewhere in the room in his panic

Peter chuckles shifting to sit up “Serves you right, it took almost a month for that tash to fade last time” he shakes his head

The raven-haired boy lets out a laugh at the memory “That was funny though…wait” his eyes widen clearly realising that he was in fact awake for the previous conversation “You heard…” Sirius motions to himself and the door referencing you “talking?”

As he was about to answer the door swings open revealing, you, Remus and James “What the hell happened?” James puffs

“We heard you scream” Remus informs him, sighing in relief as he sees both the boys are okay

“You alright Pete?” you ask, your bright eyes meeting his

He smiles “Never better Sweetpea” you tilt your head a little but return the smile

“Oh yeah check on him first I’m the one that’s broke his arse” Sirius groans rubbing his behind as he begins to stand up, Remus moving to help him up “Thanks Moons” he says giving him a kiss to the cheek

“What happened?” James asks as he takes a seat on his bed across form Remus and Sirius on their pushed together beds while you move to sit next to Peter

Sirius and Peter share a look “Sirius dropped something, it woke me up and then I sort of scared the life out of him” he tells a white lie, moving to take your hand with his giving it a squeeze

Both of your hearts flutter at the contact, it wasn’t abnormal for him to take your hand but it was for him to continue holding it and for his thumb to rub little circles “You okay?” you ask almost like you think somethings wrong

Peter shakes his head, moving to kiss your cheek smiling at how flustered you get “I’m perfect” he squeezes your hand once more, basking in the feeling of you leaning your head on his shoulder before mouthing ‘shut it’ to the boys as they all smirk at him, little did he know you also mouthed the same thing

[hoe4hotchner]

please please please write this!!😩 I love your work and ik it would suit your writing style perfectly.

reader and hotch had some ✨spicy time✨ in their hotel room and are just laying in the bliss and just adorning each other. Preferably Garcia and/or Emily (idrc just somebody from the team) accidentally walks in and says something.

Reader gets a little scared cause she knows aaron doesn’t like to show his feelings that much. but he is really sweet and makes a joke abt it.

I strayed a little from the concept.

Your head was placed on his chest. Eyes closed as you enjoyed the few moments of peace and quiet before you had to get ready for the evening briefing.

"OH MY GOD! Get some clothes on you two!" Penny gasped as she walked into the room, wanting to get the two of you. You hid your face in his chest, nuzzling yourself as far away from Garcia's shocked eyes after she'd seen the piles of clothes on the floor around the bed.

"We'll be right there, Garcia." Hotch was calm as he sent the analyst away from your room. His hand gently rubbing your shoulder in a soothing motion as she walks out of the room.

"How did she even get in here?!" You were confused as you popped your head back up from under his arm after hearing the click of the door. Hotch scooted up against the headboard of the bed, pulling you with him.

"Garcia always gets a keycard to all of our rooms when she's with us, makes it a lot easier if something happens to one of us."

"And you didn't think to tell me." You pouted, playing angry.

"Didn't seem relevant." Aaron smiled against your lips as he pressed a kiss to them. You couldn't help but smile back, besides, Garcia hadn't seen anything other than what she probably imagined herself.

[miraculouscontent]

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

-

You do?

-

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

-

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

-

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

-

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

-

That's good. Be careful.

-

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

I may be hella afraid of birds but that wont stop me from making this.

Injured wing

The poor thing was in the balcony of the apartment. Making sounds and flapping their wings at ferocity to try to take flight again as you watched in pity.

Taking a warm towel from the dryer, your boyfriend's one since it was the comfier to be exact, you picked up the squirming little brow winged creature and took inside. You didn't had the heart to leave it out there, especially due to the snow.

While taking things out of cabinets, you didn't noticed your phone buzzing with the notifications of a certain... top hero calling you.

.

.

.

"A nightingale." You mused as you read on the internet what type of bird was now having fun on bathing on q small pot of water and singing to its heart content "How adorable!" You gushed as it shock out of the droplets of water as you carefully put a sorta of a tiny sling on a popsicle stick to mantain its feather that seemed to be broken stood on place.

"Sorry buddy, guess you're gonna have to stay like this for some time." The bird seemed to calculate your words before tweaking as you giggled at its cuteness.

That is until you heard the door opening and clicking shut.

Fuck. Keigo.

You grabbed the bird delicately and put it on a box filled with a soft towel and placed on your bed before going to open the bedroom's door to see a soaked wet, hair flat and worried hero with a frow.

"Is this some sorta of revenge or what? I was worried sick (Y/n)! You weren't answering your phone so I thought something happened." You picked your phone in confusion.

"You did?" Shit "oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh.'" He crossed his arms before sighing cupping your cheeks "Why did you stood me up? I thought we were going to have dinner together on that restaurant."

"God!" You face palmed "I totally forgot! I'm so sorry Kei!" You whined as he let out a chuckle.

"Is fine. Although I would like if you compesate for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you both froze when a couple of chirps were heard. You analyzed his expression and soon giggled in nervousness at seeing his wings puff up in alarm.

"Was that.. was that a chirp?" He yed you, his pupils dilated as you took a step back with a smile.

"I.. I dont know? Maybe they are out there singing." You rolled your eyes and sweated when he towered over you as you kinda protected the nightingale inside the box with your body.

Yet the chirps intensified...

"There is a bird in here." Hawks more accused than asked as you giggled in nervousness once again.

"A bird? Why would a bird be-" the nightingale manage to escape the box and tweaked at both of you "...here."

"What is he doing in here?" He asked, if you didn't know Keigo enough, you could assume he was... unpleasant.

That's why you were so hesitant on showing the little nightingale to him in the first place when he showed up. You werent blind, and knew Keigo had some bird attics that showed up here and there. It wasn't as frequent as it would be however he was resting if the commission hadn't somehow put their hands on it. But Keigo didn't hold much strings around you. So... you could clearly see that your boyfriend wasn't happy when another one of "his kind", especially a male, he could tell somehow it was a male by the chirping dont ask why, was beneath the same rooftop as him with his partner alone.

"Is here because he is injured Kei, he needs some treatment." You cupped your hands together for the nightingale climb in it as Hawks hlardd holes at the little thing.

"Take him to the vet or something kid, this ain't a clinic." You flinched at his words but still remained strong.

"No I am not." You said "I dont know if they are going to sacrifice him or not Kei, I cant take chances."

"Do you even know how to take care of a bird in the first place dove?!" He asked, hands up as his wings puffed even more which made you snort and arch an eyebrow at him as the fella in your hands chirped.

"Well, I do have some knowledge of wings. And have to take care of one on daily basics." You giggled at the expression of shock and insulted Keigo did before walking off and leaving him groaning and sulking at knowing you wouldn't get rid of that street bird...

.

.

"Keigo Takami." He froze when he heard his full name coming from your mouth "Put that phone down. That little bird is going to stay until it gets better." He did just as you said with an eyeroll before pouting in anger at seeing the bird at your shoulder.

That's his place to put his chin on and snuggle your neck with his face. His.

"And you have to carry that thing whenever you go now? That must suck." He tried to joke, leaning with crossed arms on the kitchen counter as before his face completely fell as you simply chuckled and said it didn't bother you at all.

"Seriously?" He asked in disbelief before grabbing his mug taking a few gulps before you widened your eyes and giggling "What are you laughing at?"

"Is just that mug was full of water early and maybe our little friend may have took a bath in it." Your boyfriend stood up so fast and soon you heard disgusting noises of vomiting .

"For god's sake KEIGO I WASHED IT!"

"I DONT CARE THAT THING SHOULDN'T BE BATHING ON MY STUFF WHAT THE HECK?!"

You sighed, waiting for your boyfriend to be back as you feed the little bird with some seeds carefully, soon being met with Keigo, still brushing his teeth.

"Drama king." You chuckled as he groaned "You know he is not a thing Kei, is a nightingale."

"Great knowing it." He said with a mouthful of toothpaste before spitting into the trash, saying something about not dirtying his bathroom with other birds germs or something.

He looked at you a bit in defeat at seeing you feeding the bird as you noticed his wings drooping a bit.

"What is wrong now bird brain?" You giggled at his expression.

"You should be feeding me ... your boyfriend." You snorted before picking a sunflower seed and showing it to him.

"I thought you didn't liked this stuff?" Yoh asked cheekily as he groaned.

"There is chicken, takoyaki, nuggets heck everything that I eat!"

The bird chirped and you nodded thoughtfully as he stared at you in confusion.

"Cannibalism. I agree."

"Oh cmon I thought we were over this..." he sighed before getting something from the fridge as he scowled at the chirps following after.

.

.

.

He glared at the bird chirping a song as you hummed in delight at the sound, staring lovely at the nightingale.

"Oh cmon Kei!" You poked his cheeks which was puffed "You have to admit is a amazing sound! Nightingales are famous for that!"

"Hawks are famous for other things too y'know?" He grumbled before widening his eyes at seeing you werent giving him attention, instead grabbing your phone and recording the nightingale's chirping.

"Hm? What did you say Kei?" You looked up at him with that smirk which made him scoff and stood up with crossed arms and going to the kitchen.

You stiffled your giggled, going to your pouting boyfriend and hugging him lovingly after putting the injured bird back to safety.

"You're really jealous huh?" You carresed his chest as he breathed in and out, cheeks red at being so obvious about his feelings.

"Is a form of flirting birds singing to their mates. That little shit." He mumbled, earning you a laugh that made him smile as feeling you peppering kisses all over his neck and jawline before he caught your lips with his.

You broke apart with a goofy smile as he chuckled before deadpanning at hearing chirps before puffing and straightening his wings on all glory before shouting at the nightingale:

"GO GET YOURSELF A PARTNER! THIS ONE IS TAKEN YOU PIECE OF CRAP!"

You never laughed so hard in your life. A sound that, for Keigo at least, was far more beautiful than any chirping, singing or melody on this whole world.

.

.

.

After a few days you saw Keigo's hatred for the nightingale easing slowly but surely. Yet you never thought that coming home late on one of Keigo's day off, you would see your boyfriend, layed on the couch with a finger up holding the bird he claimed to hate it and whistling some similiar tone along with the nightingale's chirping.

You stared in shock yet awe at the look of your boyfriend directed to the bird as the sounds came out of his lips before chuckling.

"Your wing soon will be better by the looks of it. Isn't (Y/n) a great nurse?" He mumbled, a sadness deep down on his gaze as he saw the bird clapping the wing that wasn't wrapped up "You got freedom and my dove's attention bud, how could you and (Y/n) not expect me to get jealous?" He chuckled sadly as you frowned, walking slowly towards him, pretending to not overheard his monologue.

"Hey pretty thing, back already?" His cheeky smile was back as you looked at it in awe before kneeling in front of the couch he was layed on and kissing him deeply, making him close his eyes in bliss and pull you closer with his free hand by the neck.

You broke apart as he panted with a glossy yet pleased look. Ignoring the chirps for a bit, you carresed his golden looks as he closed his eyes with a smile.

"Redeeming yourself for giving attention to this bird and not me for these past few weeks?" He murmured happily yet drowsily as you giggled and kissed his forehead softly.

"You could say that bird brain." You stopped for a bit, hearing him whine miserably for you to get back, cupping your hands for the bird to get in.

"Cmon..." he whined, arm dropped over his face as the other rested on him until he felt you tugging on his shirt.

"Just get up lazy, I'm giving you all the attention you want." At this, you saw his golden eyes practically glow in bliss as he stood up as fast as he could.

.

.

.

He stretched his arms as he sitted up on the bed. Hair untamed and eyes unfocused until they dropped on the bird that had exited his box and was flapping both of his wings. Both.

"Huh. You look all better." He smirked as he felt you shift and rest your chin on his shoulder with a drowsy look.

"Who is better?" You mumbled before he pointed at the bird jumping and trying to take flight.

"Your friend there." You squealead as hs chuckled, grabbing the nightingale in one hands as he unwrapped the the made up sling as he waited patiently for the little fella to flap its wings and fly just a few centimeters above his palm.

"Cmon dove." He ushered you to follow him on the balcony as he had a gentle hold on the nightingale "Go little buddy, being stuck on a unknown place forever isn't goog for anyone."

And with a little movement of his hand, the nightingale took flight with beautiful chirps that made you smile but soon look at your boyfriend with a sad smirk as he watched the little bird fly away.

It wasn't sadness because he got attached to the nightingale. It was because that, even a small bird as he, could be free and not him. A grow up man that had a partner but was still caged by the comission...

You carresed his arm before hugging it and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek which brought his attention back to you.

"How about some hot cocoa my handsome? You still got some minutes stuck with me until you go to work." You said softly in Hope's to cheer him up.

He looked at you in some sorta of shock before chuckling and bringing you close enough to him to hear his heart beat and feel his warm yet chapte lips on your forehead.

"Being stuck with you is the only way that keeps me going to be honest."

[page150]

Not A Friend - (Sister to Oscar "Spooky" and César Díaz)

Request: "i was wondering if u could do a fic where oscar and cesar have a teen sister and she’s sexually assaulted and tells oscar??"

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Guns, Cursing

A/N: I usually don't do a author's note before the imagine, but this is a sensitive topic so if this might be triggering please click away.

Y/N - Your Name f/c - favorite color

Y/N sat quietly in her room, reading a book, illuminated by a white lamp sitting on her dresser.

Outside her brother, Oscar laughed with some men and her other brother, César had left a while ago on another adventure with his friends, leaving Y/N by herself in her room. Placing the book down, she moved the curtains away from her window. She looked at the gathering of Santos socializing in the backyard. Red solo cups in hand, dancing and eating. She remembered how Oscar had let her help decorate the backyard for the party only to be later excluded from it. Looking at him laughing with a with his arm around someone she betted that he had forgotten that she was inside.

She had gotten used to being forgotten and treated differently by people. Ever since she was born her brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Oscar had never expected to have to raise a brother by himself and especially not a sister. Even though she was only a year younger than César, Oscar's idea of keeping her safe was keeping her hidden.

She was only allowed to go straight to school then straight home, never alone either. If César or Monse weren’t going to a place neither was Y/N and that’s how it always was. She was especially not allowed to hang out with any of Oscar's friends, making life extremely lonely.

Glancing at a photo that was taped next to the window, she smiled at herself situated between Jasmine and Monse with Jamal, Ruby and César in the back. César’s friends were nice, but they were his friends not hers. He was the one invited to all their parties. He was the one they had tried to save, not her.

This left school to be the only place Y/N could socialize, but no one wanted to be friends with a girl from a gang. She was labeled dangerous before anything else, leaving her by herself. Always forgotten, and always alone.

That night she went to sleep feeling sorry for herself and woke up the same way. It continued the next few days until one day when while sitting in her algebra class, a new student was introduced. He was placed next to her and, ignoring the strange looks the class gave to him, he introduced himself.

“I’m Luke. Can I sit here?”

Y/N looked up at the blond haired boy. Her table partner had moved schools a few months ago and no one bothered to sit with her since. He looked nice, he had a nice smile and it made her want to lower her guard slightly, “Yeah, you can sit here.”

Luke sat next to her and immediately tried to start a conversation. He talked about how he moved from Florida. She noticed, as they talked more, how similar they were. They both had interesting families. He had two brothers, she had two brothers and they both lived near each other.

Y/N found herself laughing more than usual at his jokes. This led to the teacher having to stop class multiple times to scold them. Y/N never had a connection to someone like this, especially not on the first day. At lunch Luke went to sit with with her and -

“Who’s this?” César asked, suddenly sitting down at the lunch table next to his sister and wrapping an arm around her. Jamal, Ruby, and Monse also sat down. The table that previously consisted of two people quickly turned to six. Other kids nearby, eyed the two “dangerous” siblings sitting together.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the unexpected attention that was now forming. “This is Luke, he’s new.”

“Lukeee,” César trailed, “I’m Y/N’s older brother-”

“By a few months,” Y/N butted in.

“Whatever, I’m César, these are my friends Jamal, Ruby and my girl Monse.”

Monse laughed, “I’m not your girl.”

“Not yet,” César winked.

Y/N sighed and threw César’s arm off her. She turned to Elliot and apologized.

“Sorry for them.”

“No they’re cool,” Luke grinned. “Any friend of mine is my friend as well.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “We’re friends now? It’s only been a day.”

“Of course, you’re cool.”

With the compliment Y/N cheeks turned red. As childish as it was, having an established friendship with someone made her feel nice.

“This must be how César and Oscar feel all the time.” She thought.

“I don’t know if Oscar will like you having a friend that is a boy.” Ruby remarked. “No offense, Luke.”

“None taken.”

“Oscar doesn’t like anyone anyways.” Monse muttered, taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Don’t worry” Luke smiled, “I’m one of the good guys.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jamal said suspiciously. He leaned in close to Luke’s face and gave him some crazy faces.

“Okay, great talk guys,” Y/N said sarcastically, “I would love to chat with you more but lunch is about to end and I have to show Luke where his next class is. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah I have to go, but it was nice meeting you guys.” Luke stated, before he was dragged away by Y/N.

The next few weeks Y/N spent all her time with Luke. He sat next to her in the classes they shared, they talked at lunch and while walking home after school. They even stayed up at night so they could talk on the phone. She found herself smiling every time he talked to her. Every time he offered to carry her books. He was just so nice.

One Friday afternoon, Luke came running up to Y/N, putting her items in her backpack after her last class. He put his hands around her eyes, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Guess who?”

“Mrs. Kurt, I told you we can't see each other here.” Y/N whispered.

Luke removed his hands and his face went white. Y/N turned around and started crying with laughter. She had to sit down, her face turning bright red as she continued to laugh, gasping for air.

“I don’t even want to think about you dating my mom.” He trembled, before returning to his cheerful self. “Stop laughing, I have important news. There’s a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Y/N stopped laughing and thought about it before responding. “I don’t know. I don’t think Oscar would want me to. You know how he is about stuff like that.”

Luke smiled and picked her backpack off the floor. He then put out his hand and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Which is why César and his friends already said they are coming too. Oscar doesn’t have to know you're going as my date.”

“Your date?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be my date.”

Y/N smiled, a pink blush covering her cheeks. “I can be your date.”

“Great,” He took her hand and began to lead her out of the classroom. “It’s going to be amazing, don't worry.”

That night Y/N drank water out of a red solo cup, while sitting on the couch of a kid she had never met before. This time she was the one laughing and partying. Colors flashed around the room as more and more kids came into the house. The air was foggy with smoke and smelt like a mash of perfumes and colognes. Y/N nodded her head to the music enjoying the energy in the room.

To her surprise Luke pulled her up to dance with him. She giggled feeling his hands go around her waist. She put her arms around his neck just like she saw in the movies. Rap was blasting out of speakers placed on the ground. Somewhere someone joked about getting a noise compliment to which the crowd began shouting the rap lyrics louder. Taunting the idea, almost hoping for it so the party could gain extra excitement. Y/N shouted along with them in bliss. Ignoring the past fear she had felt once she noticed César had left. Ignoring the looks she had gotten when she first walked in the party. Ignoring how Luke had moved his hands past the dip in her back...

When she felt his hands squeeze her butt she whispered for him to stop which he did, but she still felt weird. A sinking feeling sat in her gut that this was a mistake. Suddenly the small action made the party feel like too much now. She could smell the stink of alcohol on Luke’s breath and weirdly on herself as well. How did she get drunk?

Y/N moved from Luke to where she had placed her cup. Now she could see scribbled on with a black sharpie, someone else’s name. She must have grabbed the wrong cup sometime during the party. Swaying slightly, she moved back toward Luke.

“I need to go home,” She hiccuped. “I drank someone's drink.”

In the darkness she didn’t see Luke’s small smile. “Wow, I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

The two exited the party and began to walk home. Y/N felt more tipsy as she walked, eventually having to lean on the blond boy. She didn’t feel really drunk, she could still tell what was happening, it was just her body felt a little out of balance. Luke seemed the same way, but before they reached Y/N house he grabbed her hips. The sudden movement left her in shock.

“You looked really nice tonight, babe.” He said, pulling her into a kiss as he ran his hands on her back, slowly moving lower onto her butt, then up to her breasts.

Immediately Y/N pushed Luke off of her, moving to wrap her arms around herself. “What the hell? I’m a Santo, pull that shit again and it's over” She yelled, backing away from Luke.

“Like you would, I’m the only one who cares enough to pay attention to you. Do you really think anyone else wants to be around you? I’ll do whatever I want. You would be an idiot to lose me.” He fumed.

Y/N froze. Luke had never acted like that before. He couldn’t truly mean what he was saying. She ran into her house and locked the door behind her. She waited a few minutes to check that he had left, which he did.

After her shower she convinced herself that Luke must have been really drunk. That’s why he acted that way, but on Monday he proved that that was not the case.

At the beginning of algebra it started off okay. Luke kept his eyes on the board and focused on his work. It was okay up to the point where he started rubbing on Y/N's leg. She told him to stop but he ignored her. First rubbing small circles on her knee. Then moving up to her thigh moving closer and closer upwards. No matter how many times she moved his hand he kept putting it back. Eventually she had to stay quiet out of fear of distracting the class, but he kept going. She begged silently for it to stop. Suddenly feeling powerless as he continued to do as he pleased for more days.

At lunch even though Luke continued to joke with César she started to go silent. It was a constant internal battle. If she pushed Luke away more, it would cause her to lose her only friend. If she didn’t she would continue to feel uncomfortable. She told herself it would stop eventually, that things would go back to normal, but they didn’t.

As more days went by Luke tried to do more things. The more he tried to do the quieter Y/N got. But luckily César began to notice. He noticed that Y/N wanted him to sit between her and Luke more. How she stopped laughing at his jokes and how Luke changed his tone when talking to her. It wasn’t always playful like it used to be.

Even though César wasn’t really close to his sister he acknowledged that they had to look out for each other. Y/N had been the one to get Oscar to let him back in the house many times. She looked out for him, and he had to look out for her.

Which is why when César and Monse accidentally walked in on Luke kissing her in an empty classroom while she tried to push him off, he freaked out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted, pulling Luke off of her and close to his face by the collar of his shirt. “I'm Lil’ Spooky I’ll have your face in the dirt if you do that shit again.”

“César, stop what are you doing here. You’re going to hurt him.” Y/N yelled. Monse gently pulled her away from Luke, but she pushed Monse back.

César punched Luke in the eye and he fell down, crumbling into a fetal position. César continued to kick him in the stomach until Y/N pulled him away.

“You’re hurting him! You can’t do this here! César stop please!”

César turned and grabbed Y/N's arm. He led her out of the classroom and out of the school with Monse trailing after them. Y/N’s items in hand.

“I can’t believe he was on you like that. Shit, Y/N. Wait, don't cry, don’t cry, it's okay.”

Y/N hadn’t realized she was crying until he said that. Tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She choked back sobs, trying to keep herself somewhat together.

She was thankful for César stopping it, but afraid for what would happen next. Once they reached their house César guided her up the stairs and inside where Oscar was smoking a cigarette at the dinner table. Hearing the door burst open and crying he instantly got up. He reached for his gun, but seeing that it was his siblings he stopped.

“Shit, what the hell happened César. Why is she crying?”

“Tell him,” César said softly. Monse ran in and went to Y/N’s side pulling her into a hug.

“Tell me what. Why are you crying?”

“He 's not mad at you hermana. Él va a ayudar.”

Y/N sniffled and buried herself into Monse’s shoulder. Trying to hide her embarrassment she whispered, “My friend at school was touching me in a weird way, Oscar. He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop, though. I did. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you and he’s not a friend anymore, Y/N. That should’ve never happened to you.” Monse murmured.

The room went silent. Monse still slowly rubbed Y/N’s back and César stood tense. Oscar looked from César to Y/N.

“César, do you think he left school yet?”

“Uh yeah, school ended right after I pulled her out.”

“Come on,” Oscar grabbed his gun and began to walk out the door, César following after. Y/N ran after Oscar begging for him to stop.

“Don’t Oscar, don’t hurt hm. He’s my only friend. He’s a kid, it was just a mistake.”

“No no!” He shouted. Oscar turned and placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulder’s. Looking into her teary eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault hermana. My job is to keep you safe. I've failed at a lot of things, but I refuse to fail at that again. Get in the house and rest. He just needs to be taught a lesson. Stay with Monse. Te amo como una hija bebé espeluznante.”

He left with César, leaving Y/N on the lawn. Monse guided her back into the house. She remembered what her dad did whenever she was going through a lot. She treated Y/N the same way. Reassuring her that it will be okay. That it wasn’t her fault.

César and Oscar didn’t come back until later that night.

“We got you this,” Oscar muttered, walking into the house and tossing a stuffed bear to Y/N. “We saw the idea online.” It was a f/c bear with a heart on it that said ‘Te Quiero’ with little messages César and Oscar wrote on the back. There weren't a lot, but the few ones there were were heartfelt.

“Thank you, I love it” Y/N smiled, holding the bear close. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

“And pizza,” César quietly cheered. On his face was a bandage, but he moved his face so Y/N couldn’t see it. “Monse do you want to spend the night?”

Monse looked at Y/N, “Yeah I already have clothes here so I’ll stay,”

She picked up a slice of pizza. “Soo, what did you guys do?”

“We took care of it,” Oscar said, sitting on the couch next to Y/N. “He won’t mess with you again. If I didn’t have a reputation I would’ve reported it.” He lowered his voice. “You can always go to us Y/N, we’re going to protect you. If that cabrón messes with you again I’m coming for him. ”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. “I just wanted a friend, how dumb is that.”

“You can always hang out with us,” Monse added, “We’re your friends. We love having you around.”

Y/N sighed, “I mean my own friend. I love you guys too, but it gets so lonely. No one at school wants to be near me. Soy un marginado.”

The room went silent again. Before Monse spoke up, “You know you’re really smart Y/N. There’s a school in BrentWood that might offer you a scholarship to go there. I know you could pass the entrance exam. ”

“I could get a job for the tuition,” César added, rising from his seat at the dinner table. “Oscar what do you think? You’ve been making more money lately. It would keep her safe. She is really smart.”

Oscar looked at the ceiling, a good sign that he was thinking about the idea. Y/N kept her mouth shut, trying not to get too excited.

“How would she get there?”

“It’s a long bus ride,” Monse remarked, “But it’s safe. Only a bunch of rich kids. Most of them will be nice to you, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re strong. Not a lot of them are like that there. No one will know who you're related to. I can get my mom to help get you in.”

César, Monse, and Y/N looked at Oscar. He took a deep breath and released it. Pulling a cigarette out his pocket, he lit it. Breathing deep he puffed out the smoke.

“I failed you today as a hermano, if I can keep you safe I will. I’ll work on getting you there.”

Y/N smiled and hugged Oscar, feeling César join as well.

“Thank you Oscar. Thank you Cesar. Thank you Monse. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Oscar grinned. “Get off me I’m going to bed. I think I’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note: My DMs are always open to anyone who needs it. I am also on twitter to anyone who wants to talk @/thepage150. Requests are open. You are important. You are valued. You are loved. Have a wonderful day ~c'k

[starsinmylatte]

I just know someone has already requested this, but for the Silco kink list prompt thing?

Pregnancy/breeding!! (yelled the very basic bitch in a very basic way) I am a hot mess for the rat man and I neeeeeed it

Alrighty, Silco simps come get y'all's juice! Thank you, anon, my beloved, for sending in a request! 💕

This shall officially be part one of my Silco drabble game 😌. Let's kick this off with a bang, shall we?

I have a ton of requests for this particular kink, so please see this post for how I'm gonna handle it.

Pairing: Silco x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only) minors DNI I will disintegrate your kneecaps

Word count: 1.2k

Click here to join my taglist to be notified of future works

I have a ton of requests for this particular kink, so please see this post for how I'm gonna handle it.

Silco swore vehemently under his breath as Sevika shoved the doctor out the door. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed, pushing his greying hair back from his face. 

“Of course, he’s right,” he muttered. “I don't know what else I expected him to say, but I’d prefer something in the general realm of what’s possible.” 

He heard the door open hesitantly, but it clicked shut almost as instantly as it opened. 

I need time to think….

Jinx was an enigma. She was only a child, but she was so drastically different from the other children that Silco was just lost for what to do. She obviously needed something, so he had jumped at the chance to discuss her situation with one of the marginally less shady doctors of the undercity. However, the so-called doctor had merely waltzed into Silco’s office and stated the obvious. 

“She needs to be around other children. Not to replace her sister and friends, but to help her learn to socialize with other children again.” The man had said it so matter-of-factly that Silco’s first response was to arch an eyebrow in shock.

“Really?” he glared at the doctor. “That’s your whole theory? Did you just come here to state the obvious without any other suggestions?” 

The man had the courtesy to look slightly ashamed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Silco cut him off with a wave of his hand, and Sevika threw him out of the chair.

That situation led the kingpin to his current predicament. For quite possibly the first time since becoming the Eye of Zaun, he was at a complete loss for what to do. There was a distinct lack of young children in his shimmer operation, and no sane parent was going to send their little ones off for a weekly playdate with the crime lord’s daughter. 

Silco heard the door click open once again, but this time someone stepped inside. He lifted his head from his hands in annoyance to glare at the intrusion, but his harsh expression immediately softened when his fire and ice eyes met your gentle gaze. 

The small, comforting smile that played across your lips melted his icy heart. You perched on the corner of his desk and offered him a glass of water, which he gladly accepted. 

“For you. I know today’s been stressful, but you still need to take care of yourself.”

Silco couldn’t fight the small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. It was all he could do to keep from melting into your touch when you caressed the side of his face. The scarred side. The ugly side. The side that only you could love. 

You both enjoyed the blissful silence for a few moments before your curiosity finally got the best of you. 

“So…. what did he say?” 

His eyebrows furrowed in their usual surly manner as he pondered your question for a moment, unsure of exactly how to respond. Finally, he sighed and surrendered to the inevitable truth.  

“You were right,” he murmured, voice soft and contemplative. “She needs to be around other kids.” 

He held your hand to his face, savoring every second of your gentle touch, before grumbling in annoyance. “I just have no idea how to realistically make that happen.” 

“I…. may have an idea…” you paused and looked down at your feet. Some small voice in the back of your head was screaming at you to shut up, but it was too late. You had already started to speak.

“We could have a child. Together.” 

Silence filled the room as Silco just stared at you. His face was devoid of all emotion as his hand fell to the desk in pure shock, and yours dropped back to your side at the sudden lack of contact. Your eyes widened in terror. 

Did I actually just say that?

Each second that ticked by seemed to last for hours. 

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Was I too forceful? Is it too soon? Does he even feel that way about me? 

Silco’s fire and ice gaze was almost boring a hole into you with its intensity. “You want to have a baby…. with me?”

You stared at the man you were hopelessly in love with, but all of the words you wanted to say were stuck in the back of your throat. All you could do was nod as he slowly stood from his desk and crossed over to wrap a slender arm around your waist. 

His other hand trailed up to tenderly cup your cheek, “I need to hear you actually say it.”

Silco’s warm breath caressed your face as he pulled you into his embrace. Warm. Safe. Loved. Long fingers ever so softly stroked the back of your neck before gently tangling in your hair. He gazed down at you, waiting intently for your response. 

You looked into his eyes, and there was only one answer you could ever give him. 

“Yes… I want to have a baby with you.” 

His brilliant fire and ice eyes were already glazed over in a heady combination of lust, and pure adoration as Silco gently pressed his lips against yours. The scent and taste of him flooded your senses, sending your mind reeling. His soft, insistent kiss sent brilliant sparks of electricity arcing throughout your body, and your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. 

Silco himself was no less eager. With every light, teasing kiss, his hands trailed across your figure, hell-bent on exploring every soft and willing inch of your body. You keened as one hand stroked the swell of your hips and reached behind to cup your ass. 

The push and pull of your lips began to grow more insistent. Your own fingers crept up his chest, softly tracing their way up his neck to dance across his fluttering pulse. Eventually, they splayed against his sharp jawline, cupping it, pulling him even deeper into a kiss that was swiftly becoming all-consuming. You couldn’t get enough of him, and you knew that you never would.  

Silco’s tongue explored every inch of your mouth as you let out an honest-to-god whine at his continued ministrations. He chuckled at the sound, a dark, husky laugh that made your pussy throb with need. 

Slowly, he trailed kisses along the underside of your jaw, stopping to worry the tender flesh with his teeth before sucking a dark bruise into your skin. You yelped at the brief pain, but Silco soothed the sting with a brief swipe of his tongue and busied himself with leaving open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck. 

“Silco,” you whined, “I can’t hide that. Everyone’s going to see.” 

The dark chuckle returned. 

“Oh my lovely, I believe we are about to do so much worse than that. You said you wanted a baby, right? It takes two people to make that happen,’ he teased. 

The hand that had been toying with the soft, plush swell of your ass slowly trailed up to rest against your lower stomach, stroking it lovingly. You felt his warm breath caress the shell of your ear as he spoke, “And besides….. if you’re carrying my child, I’m going to make sure everyone in Zaun knows who you belong to.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @thebeardedmoon @eriseffigy @dont-mess-with-my-fandom @redflamesbaku @my-awakened-ghost @agatemermaid @shadow-pancake9 @zaunsin @warpedbands @ironandglass @kemeso25 @nyx2021 @amyroswell @tinybookworm16 @dendrophileunsated @lemmielem

[thefanbasewhore]

To Forget.

Summary: Buck has a nightmare and just wants to forget about it, of course with the help of his girlfriend.

Warning/content: (18+), suggestive content ahead. Biting, slight degration, rough sex, mentions of PTSD but Bucky is a soft little angel towards the end. P in V, oral (female receiving)

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I don't ever write smut, so this kinda sucks but also took me 2 weeks to write 😡

He's curled on the floor, chest heaving as he takes a deep gulp. Eyes ablaze but wide with sadness, fear of the demons who drown him every night he closes his eyes.

The smallest step has his head snapping in your direction, hand reaching out as if he was looking for something to protect himself with but with a few clicks and gears turning the vibranium hand unclenches a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

"Hi baby." His heart is still pounding, mind still racing as he remembers the reason he's in this predicament. Faces of those he's wrong, guilty he's the reason families mourn and children go without father's. Bucky opens his arms, wanting you close, wants the feeling of anxiety and guilt to go away.

Without hesitation you sink down next to him, finding a home between his arms, chest warm and comforting.

"It's alright Buck, I'm here." Lifting your head to face him, petting his hair as you press a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes are sad, glossy with unshed tears, chest irratic against your own. "I'm here."

A hand against his chest reminds him to breath, taking deep breaths out his nose to ease the burning chest. "You have to start waking me up when you move off the bed, don't like you sleeping out here by yourself."

"You look so peaceful, it would be a crime too."

A warm, soft hand glides up the bare skin of your inner thigh, skillful and unforgiving as it pushes deeper and deeper underneath the hem of the shirt. Bucky's eyes flicker to your own, sad and wild but also, filled with an aching hunger felt deep inside the pit of his stomach. The blues mixed with a sense of panic but layered with cloudy lust. "Wanna forget sweetheart."

The words mean nothing as a finger presses against the bundle of nerves covered by your panties, which momentarily surprises and makes your jump, warm lips press against the junction of where your neck and collar bone joint. "Help me forget?"

It's hard denying such a request especially feeling the cushioning of his bottom lip follow the line of your collar bone with wet, sloppy kisses. He's sucking at the skin, nibbling and paining it purple in his wake, fingers now running over the hem of the black, lace panties. His other hand reaches over, vibranium knotting into your hair, cupping the back of your head to angle your face towards his, it's not soft - rough and meaningful but just enough to make your heart pound and between your legs wet.

Longing eyes as he bites his swollen lips, staring at each other for an eternity - or that's what it feels like. The tension is high, his hardness heavy on your inner thigh as he moves closer, coolness of dog tags felt through the thin shirt, the contact hardening your nipples. Eyes dark are feral and when you dare look away - down at where he throbs against you, he harshly yanks at your hair. "Eyes on me, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten my answer yet."

"Yes, yes, yes." That's all he needs as a tongue wets the skin of your neck, a smooth trail of saliva making your neck his. Flesh hand reaches between, squeezing your tit softly, rubbing it through the shirt and feeling it harden.

Clearly frustrated, his fingers pull at the hem of the shirt with a growl, soon enough it's up and over thrown across the room with little regard. Hands squeeze every round piece of flesh, gentle but meaningful as lips bruise your skin.

His chest flushes against your own, now with heavy breaths for an entirely different reason. Frustrated hands find the barrier between his hand and your aching arousal, face mirroring the irritation because of it as two hands push into hem before shredding them with little regards.

You barely have time to gasp as his fingers fill you, smooth kisses presses against the line of your stomach as fingers slide out before curling up into the spot that makes you cry.

He's relentless, at first it's too much, trying to move up the bed from the source but he holds you still, grounds you underneath him until you're soaking his hand, whining out for him.

"More, more, please." At this point you don't know what you're begging for, something snaps inside you. Warm and filled with a tingle that numbs both legs but between his fingers which move in and out at an unforgiving pace you can't feel a thing.

It's impossible to form words as he hits a spot so deep you cry out.

"Look at you.." He teases but hard eyes are anything but playful, they're cruel and condescending and never leave your own. The way he talks is so filthy, degrading but love every word that falls from his mouth. "All dumb, can't even speak. Am I making you dumb, sweet girl?"

The words get stuck in your throat again, the feeling on his finger hit deeper and deeper as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Eyes feel heavy, half way closing as walls flutter around his scissoring digits. "Gonna come for me, honey?"

"Mmmm!" Is all you can manage as a pair of teeth sink into your inner thigh, it doesn't break the skin but will leave a mark that will last days.

"Yes you are, look at you. I want it, give it to me." A tongue runs out to roll over the burning skin, soothing it with wet saliva and a few kisses as his fingers milk you through. "There it is, you're gorgeous, baby."

It happens so fast, white, hot pleasure that temporarily blinds you. A dark bliss with shaky thighs, they only thing that pulls you back is the feeling of lips against your inner thighs and clicking of plates and shifting of gears as cool vibranium pets your hair, skimming over your hair line. "You with me, bunny?"

A weak nod but that's all he needs before a long stride of his tongue catches a taste of your cum, squealing at the surprise and sensativity of post orgasm. "Bu- Buck -."

You can't form words once again and he can care less. He's ruthless, nibbling at the over-sensative bundle of nerves, licking and moaning with the slightest shift of his own hips

Hands fall to feel the smooth hair, stands a little longer on top fill into the gasps of your fingers, pulling harder- harder then you usually would but Bucky doesn't seem to mind.

"Buck - ugh!" The sounds are filthy, wet and sloppy as one particularly hard pull of hair muffles a moan that vibrates your whole lower half, legs start to shake as thighs tighten and cup his ears.

He's putting his all and everything into you, drunk on the feeling and taste as everything else in his broken mind disappears - he's tense, angry but only filled with thoughts of you, you, you.

For the second time within only minutes of each other you cum, Bucky doesn't dare move, taste every single drop he could manage before pulling away. Arousal smeared across his face as he sits on his knees between open legs using the back of his hand to wipe whatever he could manage.

The loud announcers of the soccer match on the television is the only sound next to the heavy breathing, breasts moving with every breath and Bucky can't look away. Metal fingers cool your nipple, squeezing and pinching as you let out a gasp and cower from the touch. The hand fingers your chin, clicking as it curls against the chin and pulling eyes to his open.

He doesn't bother with words, instead closes the gap between both of you. Taste of yourself tangy on lips, a strong tongue parting lips as the shift of hips has his cock kissing your opening. He tests the waters, pushing forward for the bulbous head runs up and down and up again to touch the bundle of nerves that makes you moan under his mercy.

Tears of frustration prickle eyes but his tongue continues to messily run over every part of your mouth - the roof, the tongue, sucking lips purple and swollen - he can't get enough. It's torturous but soft, lips are kind and caring and considerating on the distraction for the moment.

"You're so beautiful, how'd I get so lucky?." He sounds drunk whispering against your lips, slurring and slow as flesh fingers knot the back of your hair to bring you deeper into his lips. "Can't get enough of you."

"Buck, need you." Wether he hears the words or completely ignores them, his tongue rolls over your own, sharp teeth catching the fat of your lip as his hips tut into yours. He's throbbing against your inner thigh, pre-cum mixed with your own arousal soaking the skin.

The small hand goes unnoticed as it slips down his hard stomach, following the trail of hair that leads to him. His lips are too busy, messy and wet as they move against your own. A hand wraps around his hardness, momentarily separating where you two meet, a small gasp parting lips.

His eyes flutter close as you pump him, pressing soft, gentle kisses against his shoulder. The skin is hot, and still tastes salty from his dream but the whisper of your name under his breath has you reaching forward, fingers at the base of his neck to bring him to your own lips.

You take this time to squeeze and he groans, unaware of your true intensions to push him off, hands against his chest to apply a force that's enough to knock him into his back.

Pretty blue eyes with soft alabaster skin, which flushes compared to the disholved light pink blanket that's fabric tightens under his body weight but never leaves your face, well maybe a second to watch you straddle his thighs, rub your aching pussy against this heavy length.

He doesn't fight as you lift yourself up, rubbing the throbbing head against your folds before slipping into the warm, wet hole with a hiss.

"Jesus, sweetheart." He groans, every inch sending a shock of pleasure up his spine but also stretching you so good it's intoxicating. Drunk on him, the way blue eyes beg you for more, bites his lip and smirks seeing just how ruined you already look.

Finally he's snug, not an inch left to move but you're so warm he doesn't know if he wants to, so you decide to for him. Pressing a hand against his chest for support, giving him an experimental roll that receives a deep breath, "That's it."

"Look good like this." Cool metal squeezes your left breast with his admittance as your hips finally find their rhythm.

Bucky flesh hand follow the lines of your stomach, over the roundness of your breast grab ahold of the posterior aspect of your deltoid, the other cool one is digging dents into the skin of your hip as another skillful roll of your hips has his head rolling back onto the ground.

His mouth hangs open, soft praises filling the air.

You're so good to me.

That's it honey, feel so good.

Eyes squeezed shut as small, sloppy kisses are felt against his neck. A set of teeth digging into the skin and something snaps. A snarl with teeth, fangs on full display as he uses his hand placement as an advantage to turn the pair of you. He pulls out with a hiss, angry and red but the hand against your back guides you to lay on your stomach. With a gentle but meaningful push pressing your cheek to the floor and keeps it there, his other hand curling around your hips to pull them towards him.

Without a word he splits you open again, easing himself until you're a withering mess, under the mercy of his hand which keeps your head grounded, the surface of the floor cool on contrast with the skin of your cheek. He doesn't waste any time, pulling out before trusting so deep you feel him in your stomach.

It doesn't stop, over and over again. Every ounce of frustration is felt as he sheths every inch of himself inside you. Brutal, almost painful but clouds your mind, barely can speak as his hips snap against your own.

He's taking it out on you, so lost in his pleasure he's temperily blind from why this even started in the first place, all he can concentrate on his how good and right you feel, the sound of your arousal every time he trusts into you, the way his name falls from your lips.

A small ache starts to form from the repeated force on your ischial but it's burns so good as he continues to split you open.

"Fuck..." He moans, "So good, sweetheart."

His hips are faultering and slowly loosing rhythm as he hears his end, the vibranium fingers squeeze your ass before pulling away and coming down to hard you see black and feel the rush of blood to that area makes you dizzy.

It's a sharp, searing heat that fills your stomach. Under his mercy as he claims you his, teeth scrape but his lips follow behind to soothe. A hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you towards him but his hips never stop, he's filling you with a brutal pace as your back makes contact with his swollen chest.

The hand wraps around the front now, squeezing the tender area of your neck and you're a mess, feeling his other hand press down on the bundle of nerves that makes you squeal, begging for more.

Arousal coats your legs, thank God he's holding you up because they're shaking, unsteady as he bottoms out inside you again. The bulbous head stretching you to no return, he changed the angle by flexing an knee for more force and you're done for.

Teeth nipping your ear, down the sensative skin of your neck that's already covered with all his love bites, soothing them with the warm surface of his tongue. Heavy breathing in your ear all you could hear as all your other sense dull out, falling limp in his arms.

It's numbing the way the orgasm hits you, blinding and all you can feel is a red hot release that bubbles your chest, makes you cry out for him. All you can hear is a moan in your ear, the "Good girl," as Bucky nears his end.

Almost seconds later, hips still against your ass, pressing harshly as white spurts coat your walls and follow with a small kiss against your shoulder.

He's breathing heavy, slowly lowering both of you on the floor but doesn't dare pull out, instead pulls you close to his chest, sensative and twitching.

He's breathless, but looking over your shoulder to see the closed mouth smile with an appearance of a dimple. "Thank you, baby doll. Feel better already."

His tongue clicks at the imprint of his hand on your cheek, red and on fire but due to the post organism haze you barely felt it. The outline of his fingers starting to rise off the skin, it would be there for a while. "I'm sorry." An apologetic kiss touches your arm, follows a trail up and to your back, soft breath fans your neck, "I was too rough, took it out on you."

Sleepily shaking your head with a goofy grin, "Was good, like it."

A hand cups your head, lifting it front the hard floor to place a pillow there and gently placing it there. The other rubs soothing circular motions over your ass check, with a small frown.

"Bucky, it's okay. I'm fine."

"Don't like hurting you, was too rough." He argues, guilt creeping at his shoulders, weighing then down aa avoids eye contact.

"I liked it." Despite your sore extremities you turn to face him, one hand comes up to cup his cheek, rub the high globes of his face and vibranium soon follows to cover yours. "You were not too rough, in fact, wanna give me a matching one on the other side?"

[sundaysundaes]

Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis. 

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part. 

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.” 

“Cool?”  

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.” 

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist. 

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room,  closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours. 

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead? 

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room. 

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment. 

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. 

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!” 

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!” 

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked,  lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth,  put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing. 

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen. 

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel.  Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even. 

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch. 

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock. 

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward. 

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…” 

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor. 

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!” 

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do. 

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system. 

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body. 

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise. 

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move. 

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch. 

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin. 

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this. 

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin. 

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed. 

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

 You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing. 

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin. 

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there. 

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.”  He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

[xoxo-teddybear]

Bakugou’s daughter brings home a Boyfriend

Bakugou x wife!reader

Ft. Bakugou’s daughter

Warnings: fluff, lowkey Crack, sexual mentions, small angst, cursing, Bakugou being such a dad

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: This is one of my favorite types of Bakugou. Domestic father Bakugou!! So bc of that fact, this piece was born. Hope you enjoy!

Bakugou as a boyfriend? Bliss. Bakugou as a fiancé? Heaven. Bakugou as a husband? Euphoric

Bakugou as a dad?.......he sure is something

Don’t get me wrong, Bakugou would be the ultimate dad

Baby crying in the middle of the night? Sleep love, daddy’s got it. Baby needs a bottle? He can warm it up with his hands. Baby’s feeling bored? Look at these mini fireworks in his hands!! Katsuki’s got it all

But that’s a baby Bakugou

Bakugou with a teenager

oOf

Katsuki’s teen will be either one of two things

His best friend

Or his mortal enemy (whom he still loves endlessly)

His 16 year old daughter, Katsumi, was both

And yes they loved each other very much, but they also got into battles on who could cook dinner better, who Y/N loved more, hell, when y’all came back from a restaurant THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO MADE IT TO THE FRONT DOOR FIRST

But this battle? Y/N might just let them Kill each other...just this once

——————————————————————————

“WHO THE FUCK IS THI-“

*SMACK* (thx Y/N)

“Daddy, this is Izuru! Izuru this is my lovely mother and that’s my shitty dad that I love so dearly!”

Katsumi definitely inherited her guts from the Bakugou’s

“Nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Bakugou!”

Ah man, here we go

Silence. Pure, awkward, scary, silence. And of course Y/N’s nervous twitching HOPING that her dear husband doesn’t murder the green haired boy. As the young couple stand infront of the doorway smiling, the older couple is staring at them, one in nervousness, and the other in shock. (I’m talking Denki going 4 million volts shocked)

“Well.....Welcome Izuru! I knew you’d be coming over soon but I didn’t expect it tonight. It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N ever so kindly said once she let out a sigh.

Her husband almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at her. “Knew?!? You knew about this kid?? And didn’t bother to tell me?!??”

“Well if I told you, you woulda stopped this meeting from happening ya jerk!” Y/N visciously explained.

“YA DAMN RIGHT CUZ-“ silenced with another smack from his wife. Y/N sure learned a lot from Mitsuki. “Please come in you two, I’ll start dinner.”

As the young couple sat in the living room speaking, the older one was in the kitchen preparing food. Well one of them was, the other was too busy burning a whole into the poor boy’s body with just his eyes.

*SMACK*

“Ow.” Continues to stare

“Suki stop that, you’re gonna scare the poor boy.” Y/N said.

“GOOD. I DONT WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM CONTAMINATING THE BAKUGOU LINE!” The blonde dramatically yelled.

“Contaminating? Love, we don’t even know if they’ve had sex. I doubt he’s “contaminating” anything any time soon.” You said with attitude.

Bakugou just stared at you know with the same look.

“Hmph!” And turned to look back at the kids.

“HEY!” Bakugou screamed.

“Heyyyyy~” Katsumi replied.

“No not “Heyyyy~,” Katsuki began and replied with a girly impersonation of his daughter as he walk towards the couple. “I mean, HEY, as in have you had sex with this kid?” He sternly asked.

“KATSUKI OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed as she dropped something in shock.

“.......Yeah, so what?” His daughter replied.

Y/N wasn’t even mad. She already knew. She could tell. Mother’s instinct I guess.

Katsuki was fuming.

“NOPE! NO! THIS RELATIONSHIP WONT GO ON! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING SEX!” The older blonde screamed while looking at the now blushing green haired teen and his rebellious daughter. And Y/N was just giving him this...look.

‘What a fucking hypocrite’ you thought to yourself.

“How old were you when you fucked mom?”

(ITS QUIET AINT NO BACKTALK)

Pure and utter silence.

Katsuki started stepping back from the couple while facing them and nodding his head. “.....use condoms,” and walked back to his deceased wife.

As dinner is placed on the table and everyone takes their seats, Katsuki can’t help but stare at this boy. Why does he seem so familiar?

Everyone just ate and talked. Grades, school, when did y’all meet, how long has it been? The usual. But Katsuki remained silent while thinking. And then..it clicked!

Katsuki slammed his hands on the table and stood up from his seat looking at the boy across from him. “What’s your last name?!”

Izuru was nervous because he was well aware of who Katsumi’s father was and how her father’s relationship with his own father was kinda iffy.

“M-Midoriya sir.” He nervously stated.

Katsuki saw red.

“DEKU?!??????!!!!!” He screamed

“Oh come on Katsuki! Like that wasn’t obvious!” You said rolling your eyes.

“There is NO WAY IN HELL I’m gonna let the Bakugou line be contaminated with Deku’s genes! Our family line only brings in the best of the best!” Katsuki proudly and loudly stated.

“So what am I?” Y/N asked.

“The best of the best! You were and are the perfect one for me Y/N! You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. And look at what we created-“ he was interrupted by his wife.

“A mini you?”

“A MINI ME! And who wouldn’t want that?!”

“Dad.” Katsumi said.

Now that caught Katsuki off guard. For the past 16 years, Katsumi has always been a daddy’s girl. She never called him “dad,” ew. She said “Daddy,” or “Shitty dad.” As Katsuki turned to his daughter he could see the look in her eyes.

“.......you really wanna be with this kid?” He asked.

“I really do.” Katsumi said while grabbing onto Izuru’s hand.

“...Ok then. You can be with him.” Katsuki calmly said.

Katsumi excitingly got up and ran towards her dad’s seat giving him a hug.

“Thanks daddy,” she said while giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Dinner continued on as normal as it could. Katsuki was just gonna have to learn how to let go.

Later

As the married couple got ready to sleep, Katsuki was hanging outside their balcony.

“What was up with you Blasty? I haven’t seen that kinda Katsuki since UA.” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him.

“You’re not scared?” Katsuki asked.

“Of?”

“Katsumi. She’s growing up. She has a boyfriend now. That girl is having sex! She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore.” He sadly said.

“That’s what this is about? Katsumi growing up? Suki, this was always gonna happen. She’s in her prime teenage years. She’s 16! A lots gonna start happening.” You began.

“I know that but-“

“But nothing Katsuki. You can be scared of her growing up, I am too, but we can’t be so scared that we try and stop her. You just have to know that Katsumi will always come back to us no matter how old she is. And she will always, always be a daddy’s girl. Her entire world revolves around you Katsuki, but we gotta let her go at some point. We have to let her grow. That’s how the best of the best are made after all, right? It’s what we look for in a Bakugou.” You finished.

Katsuki couldnt do anything but smile. You were right. He knew you were. And he was willing to let his little cub grow.

“......You’ve gotta stop interrupting me when I talk.” He laughed.

“And you’ve gotta stop saying the dumbest shit in the world.” You teased back.

He pulled you in for a quick peck and just held you there in his arms. He was so glad he had you to keep him grounded. You’re the best of the best after all. It only makes sense.

“Daddy?” Katsumi walked into her parents room, unnoticed.

As the two broke the hug to see their daughter, looking a little timid, Katsuki spoke.

“Katsumi, hey princess. What’s up with you.” Katsuki asked as he walked towards his daughter.

“You’re not...disappointed in me, right? You know, for who I chose to be with. I’m sorry if I chose Izuru but I-“ this time, it was Katsuki who interrupted.

“Hey hey, no of course not baby bear. I would never be disappointed in who your true feelings pulled you to. I don’t want you to apologize for anything when today I caused most of the trouble.” Katsuki said while wiping one of his daughter’s stray tears.

“You know I’m never gonna leave you guys. Right? I’m gonna grow up but I’ll always want to have a close relationship with you and mom. I love you guys, and I’m not going anywhere.” Katsumi said.

“We know Katsumi. And we love you too. And we’re far from disappointed in you. We are so proud of the young woman you’ve become today.” Y/N joined in.

Katsumi ran to her mother and gave her the tightest hug, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare at his two girls. His world. His entire reason for living. All right there in his arms as he pulled them in for a bigger hug.

“Thanks you guys. Well, I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve got a date with Izuru tomorrow and I don’t wanna be late.” Katsumi began walking towards her parents door until Katsuki called her.

“Hey baby bear,”

“Yeah?”

“Izuru. He seems alright. He’ll be good for you.” Katsuki admitted.

“Yeah. He really is. He’s the best of the best after all. Reminds me of someone I know.” Katsumi said while leaving the room.

Yeah. Katsuki will be just fine.

A/N: Sheesh. This kinda sucked but I did this in my literature class sooo....it’s still credible work since I was writing, right? Yeah..?....No?...yeah ok. Anyways, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT BEAR CUBS🧸💗

P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!! And I PROMISE I’ll get better and produce more work. Feel free to leave requests!

[bokugaos]

Puppet

!! MERRY CHRISTMAS ♡ it’s my birthday so here’s a treat~

MSBY main 4 x f!reader

length: 1.1k

summary: you had a dream about having them fuck you one night. after seeing the pictures, you realize that it may have not been a dream.

tw — noncon, recording, drugging, gangbang, dp, spit roast, size difference, throat + stomach bulge, corruption

Hinata did not expect any of the things his teammates are currently doing, but he definitely will not say no to the front row seat he has, watching your face contort in desperate pleasure and pain as two big cocks rudely make their space next to each other inside your body.

You don't struggle much—at least only during the slight, initial panic when Bokuto nudged his massive cock against your other hole when Sakusa has already filled you to the very brim), just lying against Sakusa’s front, arms hanging over his shoulder and your body absolutely lax.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much?” Hinata asks again when Bokuto slightly shifts and causes you to outright sob; a sound that peters off into a pathetic whimper.

You are a good girl—always happy and offering them your sweet smile whenever you’re with them—and seeing you reduced to an almost drooling mess is as much concerning as it is disturbingly arousing to Hinata.

He turns to Atsumu, wondering about his opinion on this, but the blonde is too focused on your blissed out face, as he is not too far away from the three of you, standing there and stroking his cock to the sight of your stretched out holes.

Sakusa clicks his tongue. He’s definitely annoyed but too occupied with the tiny space he has to work with to say anything. You look tiny between their bodies. Very small.

Bokuto throws him a reassuring grin that somewhat wobbles at the edges. His voice is strained as he says: “It’s all good! Don’t worry too much!”

You are not the only one affected by this. The reminder somewhat assuages Hinata’s worry. He fumbles with his phone, but manages to take a few pictures.

Sakusa growls at him at first when the flash of the camera lights everything in stark light for just a split second, but calms himself down when he quickly remembers that all of them have agreed on it.

At this state, you are too out of it to remember much of the time they take you apart on their cocks, so they’re going to take pictures for keepsake. Not that it is much of a hardship anyway.

Bokuto’s head leans forwards, pressing against the back of your shoulder. They are not moving too much as far as Hinata can tell, but whatever you do with that tight little body of yours has both men panting like dogs, tongues almost lolling as they strain to hang on to their shred of dignity.

“Not gonna last long,” the black-haired announces with a strained voice.

Bokuto lifts his upper lip, showing white, perfect teeth in a menacing grin.

“That’s not what you said earlier,” he says, though his voice doesn’t sound any better. Hinata is not sure about the rivalry that has sprung up between the two formidable men, but he is not going to be the one standing in between.

In any case, the animosity seems to be a lighthearted one. Neither look like they take offense and Sakusa starts smearing hectic kisses along your shoulders, pointedly avoiding your lips, breathing hard and fast, then suddenly stopping. There’s a beat or two of silence, then a drawn out groan from him as he ostensibly fills you up with his first load.

When he pulls back as carefully as can be (and still makes you sob) Hinata is already thrusting the camera at you, eyes trained on the sloppy mess of your hole.

“My turn.” 

You are more alive already when Atsumu slips onto the bed and makes it creak beneath his weight. You look drowsy but eager, twisting slightly while still perched on Bokuto’s cock, and reach for the other man.

Your eyes are heavy lidded and your face is tired looking after the extreme stretch from taking both men, but you don’t seem worse for wear—so after Atsumu gives you a kiss you’ve been begging for, you let Bokuto impatiently rut into you around the way he wants to.

You end up being bent at the hips, whining about having to stand on your own merits but quieting down really fast when you realize that you have been presented with Atsumu’s cock. You smile up at him, bright save for your tired eyes, then try to curl your little hand around the girth because it never fails to excite any of them—to see just how much bigger they are than you.

Next to you, Hinata continues to take pictures.

—

It does not take long for you to get flustered and squirmy after you started looking at the pictures you just received on your phone.

They seem pretty innocent at first, pictures of you where you are smiling up at the camera with your drowsy face and half-lidded eyes. All of a sudden, in the next few pictures, you are completely naked, your clothes obviously placed outside of the frame.

When you come to the one of you getting double stuffed by Bokuto and Sakusa, you make a loud, high-pitched yelp of surprise, your eyes big and obviously scared.

“When did this…?” you whisper, eyes gone glassy. You don’t quite remember it happening, but…

Your fingertips trace the line of your body peeking out between Bokuto’s and Sakusa’s massive bulks. You look like a puppet with its strings cut.

When you flick to the next picture, you make a croaking sound, hand slapping across the screen, eyes big and shocked as you glance around you, making sure nobody saw the pictures that have been presented on the screen of your phone.

“Oh my god…” you whimper, your hips shifting, carefully rubbing your thighs together as you move your hand to cover your mouth and stare in shocked silence at yourself, bent over the side of the bed and stuffed front and back with dick.

Your throat is looking obscene, bulged around the massive girth of Atsumu’s cock—same as your belly that shows a distinct bump from Bokuto giving it to you from behind and fully enjoying your gaping, sloppy hole. 

You may have dreamed about having them fuck you one night. That they were using your holes as they please, holding your limp body around as they took turns giving you their cocks. That when they came, both of them filled up your belly until it’s bulging and sloshing.

Seeing the pictures, you realize that it may have not been a dream.

[celestial-kit]

Halloween Night

This is part one in a two part series. All characters are 18+.

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x reader

Warnings: minors DNI, slight NSFW themes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, slut shaming (?)

______________________________________________________________

Tsukishima never liked Halloween. As a kid, he never understood the appeal of dressing up in a ridiculous costume and going out with a pillow case to beg for candy. His disdain for Halloween did not dissipate as he got older, he just found new things to be annoyed with. He hated how his friends begged him to go out to the crowded bars, dressed up in matching costumes. He hated watching people use the holiday as an excuse to get drunk. And he hated that every year you would dress up in some skimpy outfit and find some random guy to make out with. 

He wasn’t jealous, obviously. Tsukishima just didn’t like seeing one of his close friends embarrass herself like that. He hated to see you get so sloppy drunk that you couldn’t walk home at the end of the night, and he hated seeing strangers grope and paw at you in your little skirt and grind against you every chance they got. One year he found you in a corner in someone’s lap, tongues shoved down each other's throats and your skirt hoisted up around your waist, showing off your sheer underwear and dripping pussy. He left you there, seeing as you seemed content with the arrangement, and found you the next hour in someone else's arms, their hands under your top, groping your breasts as your head fell back on your shoulders with a blissed out look on your face.  

You were a slut. Tsukishima hated to admit it, but you were. You loved the attention you got when you went out, you welcomed any advances from any decently attractive person, and you had no shame letting someone publicly defile you, as long as it felt good. 

This year, his friends decided that they wanted to dress up as the gang from Scooby Doo. Tsukishima was quick to decline, but the excited look on Yamaguchi’s face and your puppy dog eyes made him give in quicker than he would like to admit. So now he was here, at this bar, dressed in an itchy white sweater and orange ascot. He nursed his drink at the bar as he watched you, his Daphne, laugh at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny that some guy told you as he leaned close enough to cast his eyes down your cleavage. You slapped his chest flirtatiously as he seemingly teased you for something before leaning down closer and capturing your lips in a kiss, his hand immediately running up the backs of your thighs until they were under your skirt and gripping your ass. 

Tsukishima had to look away at this point, searching the room for Yamaguchi’s green shirt. They made eye contact and Yamaguchi started making his way towards his friend, obviously noting the disgruntled look on his face. As he approached, he set the plush Scooby Doo that he’d been carrying around on the counter of the bar and leaned his shoulder against his friend. 

“Hey Tsukki! Having fun?” a wide grin stretched across Yamaguchi’s face, the alcohol he’d consumed affecting him. 

Tsukishima just rolled his eyes, “I don’t know why you always insist on bringing me out with you on Halloween.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the blonde, “You know, you probably wouldn’t be so miserable coming out with us if you just made a move on her yourself.” Tsukishima’s eyes widened a little before they narrowed at his drunk friend. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, looking away with annoyance. 

“Aw, come on! You know she only hits on other people because you ignore her when we come out. She wants to make you jealous. I bet if you gave her some attention, you’d both have a much better time,” Yamaguchi patted Tsukishima’s shoulder with a sly grin. He knew his friend too well, but Tsukishima was stubborn and refused to give in to what Yamaguchi was insinuating. 

“She only wants my attention because she’s a slut. She’s already slept with half the town, so she’s running out of options,” Tsukishima’s words spit out like venom. He’s mad that Yamaguchi thinks he likes you, he’s mad that you always find someone to hang off of when you’re around him, and he’s mad that, deep down, he knows he’s incredibly jealous. 

“Wow,” you say behind Tsukishima’s back. He turns around, not realizing that you were standing there. You had a glass in each hand, seemingly coming back to the bar to get a refill. Your cheeks are red, and Tsukishima’s not sure if they’re flushed from drinking, kissing, or anger. You puff your chest up before setting the glasses on the bar and turning to head out of the building.

Tsukishima curses under his breath and chases after you, pushing through the crowd to keep up with your smaller form. He sees you make it past the crowd of sweaty dancers and burst through the front door. In his haste to reach you, he bumps into several people who spill their drinks down the front of his sweater. 

Finally, he makes it out the front door and sees you stumbling down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. He catches up quickly, telling you to wait and grabbing your arm, which you firmly shake out of his grasp. You turn on your heels to face him, face even more red and tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“You’re an asshole, Tsukishima! Fuck you,” you slur your words as you speak, but Tsukishima can still feel the venom behind them. It hurts him, and he knows that he fucked up. He grabs your shoulders and holds you firm despite your attempts to wiggle away. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says this as calmly as he can but he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Now that you’re closer, he can see how your mascara has smeared from your tears and sweat and he can see a bruise starting to form on your neck from that loser you were making out with not even 10 minutes ago. Tsukishima can feel anger start to well in his chest at the thought that someone had left marks on you. You scoff at him and wiggle one of your shoulders free, using your free arm to push at his shoulder.

“So what, you don’t think I’m a slut? You just said it to Tadashi as a joke or something?” you sniffle and stumble forward a little as you continue to push at him. He wraps an arm around your waist to try to steady you. 

“Well, I do think you’re a slut, but I probably shouldn’t have said it out loud,” a smirk graces his face as he sees your mouth fall open in shock. Your hands ball up into little fists and you punch at his chest to try to get out of his grasp. 

“Fuck you! I hate you, Tsukishima,” you shout at him, and he can feel his anger boil over, his feelings and the alcohol he’d consumed pushing him over the edge and causing him to do something he wouldn’t normally do. The arm he had around your waist tightens while his other hand comes to press between your shoulder blades, pushing you up into him so that he could crush his mouth against yours. 

You squeal at his sudden action, eyes staring at him as he gauges your reaction. You push at his shoulders again, and he pulls back, not taking his arms off you but giving you space to breathe. You just look at each other for a moment as you take in what just happened. It slowly clicks in your head that Tsukishima just kissed you, and you can feel warmth spread across your chest before you reach up to fist his sweater and bring him back down to kiss you again. 

This time, Tsukishima isn’t as hesitant, he’s firm as he presses into your mouth, tongue meeting yours and you moan as you feel his fingertips dig into your back, trying to pull you closer to him. In the distance, you hear whistles and cheers, and it occurs to you both that you’re still in a public setting. One of Tsukishima’s hands snakes its way up your back to bury itself in your hair, then he pulls your head back with a force that makes you hiss. You whimper and you feel your knees wobble under you and heat pool in your stomach as he glares at you with hungry eyes. 

“You’re a slut,” he whispers to you, giving you goosebumps, his husky tone giving away just how turned on he is. “But you’re my slut.” Then, he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you down the sidewalk. You stumble as you try to keep up, a little confused.

“Where are we going?” You ask, breathless. 

With a smirk, Tsukishima turns to look at you out of the corner of his eye. “Your apartment. If you’re going to act like a slut, then I’m going to fuck you like one.”