#then i actually get home and im too tired to even start working on anything

[tendebill]

[wip]

i have been working on this ezioleo request for so longgggg,, im about halfway through coloring and then i can do some MINOR shading

[amkyor]

Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY

Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.

Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!

Distance Between Us:

It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.

The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.

He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.

Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.

You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"

"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."

You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."

But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.

You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.

---

Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.

It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.

You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.

But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.

Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."

Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."

He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It’s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."

You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."

He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.

---

Another day came, and he did the same.

Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.

One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.

You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.

"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.

He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."

He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."

"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.

---

Then, of course, came another.

One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.

You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.

"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"

"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"

Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.

You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.

---

In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.

You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.

Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.

It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.

His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.

You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.

So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.

The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.

Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.

A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.

You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.

Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.

He was home.

You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.

Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.

The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.

You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.

His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.

You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.

The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.

You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.

Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.

The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.

You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.

Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.

The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.

His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.

His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.

The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.

Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.

His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.

You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.

But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.

Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”

“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”

The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.

He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.

The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.

Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.

His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.

A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.

“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.

As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.

Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.

Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.

You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.

Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.

He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.

As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.

You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.

This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.

He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.

At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.

Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.

“Can I go too?”

Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.

For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.

Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.

Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.

It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”

Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.

Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.

Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.

As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.

He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.

“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.

Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.

The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.

The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.

But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.

Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.

The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.

You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.

Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.

Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.

As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.

The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.

You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.

Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.

His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.

The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.

He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.

It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.

But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.

He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.

The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.

His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.

The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.

You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.

The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.

As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.

His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.

Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.

Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.

Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.

You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.

The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.

He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.

Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.

You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.

Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.

The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.

You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.

Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.

“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.

“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.

The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.

You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.

The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.

His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.

Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.

His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.

“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.

He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.

You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”

That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.

Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.

You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.

You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.

But “good” was all you got.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.

His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.

His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.

His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.

You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.

Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.

Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.

He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.

Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.

You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.

Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.

Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.

You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.

As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.

The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.

Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.

You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.

You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.

The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.

His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.

“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”

“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.

“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.

You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.

Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.

She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”

“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.

He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.

Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”

“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.

Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.

“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.

You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.

The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.

All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.

He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.

But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.

Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.

You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.

Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.

“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”

Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”

“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.

“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”

Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”

The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.

“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”

Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”

Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”

You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.

They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.

But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.

The truth was, things weren’t fine.

They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You glanced at him again.

He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.

It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.

Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.

You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.

So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.

---

An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.

Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.

Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”

Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”

You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.

It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.

The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.

Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.

The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.

As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.

The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Then, the pivotal scene arrived.

The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.

Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.

Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.

The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.

Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.

Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.

But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.

The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.

The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.

“I feel invisible to you.”

The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.

Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.

“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.

Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.

She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.

“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”

Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”

For a moment, you hesitated.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.

But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.

“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”

Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.

“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”

Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”

Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.

You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.

You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.

The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.

As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.

But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.

Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.

“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”

Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”

Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”

You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.

It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.

You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.

Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”

“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”

Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”

The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.

“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.

As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.

His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.

For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.

It wasn’t intentional.

On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.

But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.

But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.

He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.

He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.

And then came the confession.

You weren’t happy.

You felt ignored, neglected.

You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.

His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.

But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.

It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.

He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.

By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.

As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.

Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.

His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.

He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.

He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.

---

The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.

Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.

Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.

His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.

As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.

The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.

You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.

When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.

You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.

The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.

Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.

The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.

The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.

He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.

Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.

His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.

The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.

Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.

He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.

The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.

You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.

Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.

For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.

You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.

Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.

What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.

You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.

You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.

Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.

Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.

The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.

“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He wasn’t good with words.

Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.

His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.

The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.

He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.

After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.

His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.

His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.

You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.

Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.

His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”

You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”

“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”

His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.

He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.

The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.

For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.

Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.

“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”

His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”

Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”

The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”

The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”

Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.

“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”

The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.

“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”

But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.

For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.

Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.

Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.

“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.

He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.

“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.

Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”

His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”

But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.

Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.

You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.

“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.

He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.

Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.

Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.

His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

The admission startled you.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”

His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”

You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.

It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.

“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.

“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”

His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.

Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.

“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.

You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.

“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.

“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.

He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.

It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.

The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.

The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.

He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.

You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.

His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.

“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.

“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”

His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.

It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.

“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.

That was all you needed to hear.

A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.

After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.

Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.

“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.

It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.

When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.

You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”

In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.

A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.

ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION

[rene-darling]

Innocent scaramouce first time with dom fem reader?

Innocent little kabukimono

...yandere reader...red flag reader!...toxic relationships please do not imitate irl...I think.. I took way too much creative liberty with this..but-...im tired of seeing innocent readers x corrupted men. We need so corrupted yandere-ish readers!...

...kabukimono x yandereish reader...

Innocent little kabukimono who knows nothing of real life, and is just oh so naive. And you, this corrupted person who goes around doing whatever they please, leading on a man and then ditching him for good, a cruel harbinger who revels in the suffering of the innocent, and oh my is he innocent.

Kabukimono who doesn't know right from wrong, he doesn't even have life's most basic skills. The perfect man for you to corrupt.

Kabukimono who doesn't know that kisses are only meant to be shared by lovers and to be done in private, so you might be in the middle of talking to another harbinger when he approaches you and casually leaves a kiss on your lips.

The other harbinger and your underlings are left in a state of shock. He kissed you And he still has his head?? Kabukimono notices their weird stares and questions them "Hm? Do you not know? This is something friends do with each other!" he informs them proudly. He's your dearest friend.

Dear little kabukimono who gets scared when you come home drenched in blood, but you just smile at him and open your arms. He knows he can't deny you, you told him that denying your friend's hug is very rude!

So he hugs your bloody form, shivering a bit. You're so cold, like a corpse. It's okay. You reassure him, that you were just getting rid of some bad guys. Some real baddies who harm the innocent. This reassures him, wow, you're so cool! You help people by getting rid of bad guys right? Wow!

Innocent kabukimono who admires you so much. You're the coolest person out there, and he trusts you.

Pure little kabukimono who tries making you some yummy food, only to fail since for some reason it always turns out to sour, too hot, or just burnt. It was like someone was messing with him and doing it on purpose.

And when he tells you that he's messed up yet again and sees how your face falls, he can't deal with it. He's so dumb, so stupid, he can't help it! He can't do anything without you. So he starts crying, soft little hiccups turn into full-on sobs as globs of tears fall from his eyes.

Who hugs you and apologizes over and over, he's sorry he's such a dummy! He'll learn! He'll be more useful to you, he doesn't know where the dish went wrong! Please don't abandon him, he's sorry for being useless!

And it brings him so much comfort when you hug him back, holding his tiny waist as you almost feel bad for purposefully messing up his dish, not that you'll actually apologize and tell him.

When you're sitting on the couch and you pull him onto your lap, it startles him. He shifts around a bit uncomfortably, but it's fine, he'll manage. You tell him that this is what friends do! And since you both are such close friends he doesn't complain when you pull him into your lap, even in front of other people

Eventually, he gets used to it, when you assure him that, this is what friends do- and you're his dearest friend aren't you?

He's used to it. He's trained for it. He could simply be doing some work around the house but the second you pat your lap he drops whatever he's doing, crawling onto your lap like a cat.

He doesn't know any better, so while you're in important meetings with the harbingers he'll simply crawl onto your lap like it's his own personal bed. The other harbingers always stutter in their next words- they just never seem to get used to your little boytoy

Some of the harbingers find it rather amusing, questioning why you've kept him around this long. They've never seen you with one of your boy toys after the first 3 weeks. You simply shrug, perhaps it's his innocence, his naivety to the world..and people, around him. Whatever it is, he proves to be entertaining. Which is why you just can't get rid of him yet.

Cute little kabukimono who ignores any red flags. You following him around whenever you have some free time, or sending one of your henchmen after him whenever you aren't available. What do you mean that's weird? No- you just care for your friend, he's your dearest friend after all! You just wanna make sure nothing bad happens!

Innocent kabukimono who you've quickly learned has no idea of what intimacy is. He doesn't know the first thing about- love making.

Kabukimono who sits on your lap like another day, resting his head back onto your shoulder, you can hear his quiet breaths and whispers as he mumbles and rambles about his day thinking you were listening. You on the other hand were occupied by your own deranged thoughts, ...it's been long enough..hasn't it? You're sure he can handle you- fondling him further..right? You mean he should. You've done so much for him, and he can barely even cook a proper meal for you.

Biting down harshly on his neck while he was leaning it back on your shoulder eliciting gasps and whines from him. He tries grabbing your head, trying to push you away. It hurts! But you're too strong. So he sits there helpless tugging at your hair softly as he lets out little moans as you suck on his neck. He feels heat pool in between his legs... it's so weird..he doesn't like it.

Later that day he stares at himself in the mirror. Examining the big red purple-ish mark you left. Afterward, he questions you about it. Huffing as he asks the reason behind this strange good feeling mark you've left.

You reassure him, it's simply because he's your dearest friend. And you just want people to know that he's yours, he belongs to you. And no one else.

[octoberautumnbox]

Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be. 

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again? 

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her. 

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?” 

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel. 

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else. 

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her. 

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice. 

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup. 

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.” 

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day. 

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier. 

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again. 

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away. 

“... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her. 

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.  

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two. 

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams. 

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love. 

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again. 

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–” 

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep. 

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this? 

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel. 

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed. 

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time. 

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said?  Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen. 

They never meet. 

~~~

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

kneeling on the floor

pairing: chan x fem. reader

genre: smut

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: oral (m. receiving), pet names (baby, honey, princess, little one), brief mentions of sub space, praise, squirting, cum in mouth, cum play.

masterlist • han •

an: i was blushing and kicking my feet while writing this one. my biggest fear is chan finding this account (or anyone in my real life finding this account) just strike me dead at that point.

you knew he had a long day at the studio. you knew he was so exhausted and working so hard with an impending comeback and world tour coming. though, you didn't want to think about a world tour right now. just thinking of it made you sad. but you had been thinking all day about how you could help him relax when he got home. and you came to a conclusion that, honestly, would make you both very happy.

and that's what led you here. naked. kneeling on the hard wood floor directly inside the door to the apartment. he would open the door and there you would be. you heard his footsteps approaching the door. the buttons on the keypad beeping as he punched in the code. the door slowly swinging open, his face focused on his phone as he shut and locked the door behind him, toeing off his shoes. and then he looked up.

you wish you could have set up a camera or something to catch his reaction, the look on his face was the best part. he dropped his bag, his mouth hanging open, his ears turning a bright red.

"baby, what are you doing on the floor?" he asked, approaching you. his hand came in contact with your face, his thumb stroking lightly across your cheek, tilting your face up to his.

"wanted to surprise you, channie." you said quietly. you had been in this position for a little while, having done nothing but sit in anticipation. your mind racing with the thoughts of what you wanted to do to him when he got home, and what he may do to you after if he wasn't too tired. at this point, you had been thinking about it so long that you were practically dripping, already slipping into subspace and he hadn't even done anything yet.

"well i'm definitely surprised." he cooed. "look at you. my sweet girl."

"want to suck your cock." you told him. "please, can i?"

"oh, honey. how long have you been waiting here like this?" he asked. "the floor is so hard. are your knees okay, baby?"

you nodded, not caring at all about your knees actually. your mouth watering.

he slipped his hoodie over his head and folded it a few times crouching down and sliding it under your knees. "is that better? a little cushion, yeah?" he kissed your forehead softly before standing straight again.

you itched to reach out and unbutton his pants, but you knew better. you had your hands on your legs, palms flat against your thighs. although, you considered risking it, not really minding if this turned into a punishment.

"now what did you say you wanted, baby?" he asked, smirking.

"i want you in my mouth." you replied.

"wow baby knows exactly what she wants." he said. "i'm so proud of you."

your cunt grew wetter with the praise. he was right, usually it took you a little while to get to the point where you could tell him what you wanted. usually you were a stuttering mess to start out, but this had been building all day and you were ready.

"i've been waiting." you tell him. "please?" you look up at him, his pants button was level with your face, his torso covered in a black fendi tank top (yk exactly which one im talking about), his hair falling in his eyes.

"go ahead, princess." he said. and now with his permission, you reached out and palmed him through his pants. he hummed, a deep, approving sound. you ran your fingertips up his body, playing with the hem of his tank top, sliding the tips of your fingers under the fabric. your touch grazed his bare skin, small hairs ticking the pads of your fingers.

"can you take this off too, channie?" you asked, your voice dripping sweet.

"i don't know, baby. i only took the hoodie off to cushion your little knees." he teased.

"my knees still hurt." you lied, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "i need more cushion."

"oh you do?" he feigned worry. " well in that case, maybe we should just go to bed. maybe the floor isn't a good place for you." he took a step back, moving to help you off of the floor.

"no!" you begged. you grabbed him by his belt loops and pulled him closer. "no, my knees are fine."

he chuckled. "are you sure baby? you said you needed more cushion. why would you say that if your knees were fine?"

oh he's in a mood tonight. he's in true christopher form.

"i just wanted to see your body." you admitted.

"oooooh." he said. "so you lied." he made a tsk tsk sound. "that's bad behavior, little one. you know i don't reward bad behavior."

he has you right where he wants you, a drippy mess on the floor, tears pricking your eyes in frustration. "please, channie. i'm sorry." you looked up at him, hands still gripping his pants, your bottom lip quivering. "i was being greedy. i wanted to see your body. i'm sorry i lied. i wont do it again."

leaning down slightly, he cradled your face in the palms of his hands. "oh, baby. you're so precious." he kissed the top of your head. "i forgive you, honey. go ahead." he straightened, towering over you once again, and slipped his tank top over his head. he tossed it to the side, like it wasn't more expensive than your entire wardrobe.

your eyes raked over the bare expanse of his skin, your mouth watering at the sight. the highs and lows of his muscles, how they flexed as he breathed. you leaned forward and pressed an open mouth kiss just to the right of his belly button. you continued kissing down until you reached the top of his pants. you tugged them down, continuing your trail of kisses. his pants pooled around his ankles, and he carelessly kicked them to the side. now he was standing there in nothing but (of course) his fendi underwear. you palmed his bulge. you leaned in and licked him from bottom to top, over his underwear.

"don't be a tease, baby." he said, his voice already breathy.

you hooked your fingers over the elastic and pulled down, his cock springing free. you wrapped your hand around him, he was hard and hot. you ran your hand up and down, slowly pumping, appreciating the size and feel of him. you loved this man for everything that he was, but his cock was definitely one of your favorite things about him. it was perfect. just the right size, and you loved the feeling of his soft velvety skin, the feeling of the large vein that ran along the underside.

you gently licked the tip, tasting the precum there. he let out a sigh. you looked up at him the best you could as you licked him from the base of his balls, all the way to his tip. his head fell back as you wrapped your mouth around him, finally. you slowly took as much of him as you could, until he was touching the back of your throat. but he had you trained well, you gagged around him but didn't pull away. you tried to take more and more until your nose was brushing the skin of his stomach. his hands found your hair, his fingertips against your scalp as he held you there. you continued to periodically gag around him until you had to pull away, coughing. a trail of spit connected your mouth and his tip, you collected it with your hand and used it to coat his length.

his hand still gripping your hair, he led you back to him. his tip pushed past your lips, and he slowly pumped himself in and out, using you just the way you liked it. "fuck" he exhaled. you moaned around him, enthusiastic at finally getting what you've been waiting all day for. "that's it baby. you're doing so good."

one of your hands was against his thigh, just in case you needed to tap out (though you never have before), and your other hand was traveling from your nipple down your body until your fingertips brushed your clit. it was puffy and in desperate need of attention. as you rubbed slow circles, chan shoved himself as far as he could down your throat and held you there, loving the feeling of you gagging around him. he was moaning and grunting and your fingers moved faster and faster across your slick, getting the most pleasure out of knowing he was pleased.

your hand that was on his thigh, slowly moved up, fingertips coasting over his muscled abdomen. you pressed your palm against them, feeling them flex under your touch as he fucked your face. you knew he was close, his voice growing in pitch and starting to whine.

"fuck, princess." he sounded desperate. you loved it when he sounded like that. loved how he started out so dominant but you were the one who could bring him to this point. the point where he was whiny, and needy, and no longer teasing. "i'm-- i'm gonna cum."

your own high was approaching, his sounds and words pushing you over the edge. you had been waiting all day for this, the pressure building up over hours, so finally when you did find release, it was a lot. you moaned around him, your pussy spasming and squirting your release onto the hard floor and his poor hoodie. he soon found his own high, releasing into your mouth. he pulled out slowly, and you showed him your tongue, covered in his cum. he panted above you, taking in the sight. you were a mess, your hair tangled, your legs wet and shaking, you cheeks flushed. he thought you had never looked more beautiful. he knelt down with you, his knees now in your cum as well.

"you made such a mess, honey." he said softly. you nodded, your tongue still hanging out of your mouth. he leaned in and kissed you, tasting himself. he kissed you slowly, sweetly, passing his release back and forth between the two of you until it was all swallowed and gone. he pressed his forehead against yours, his palm against your chest, feeling your heartbeat. "i love you." he whispered.

"i love you, more." you whispered back.

he leaned back on his heels, still trying to catch his breath. you loved this look on him. flushed, sweaty, post orgasm, his muscles tight. just looking at him, you felt ready for round two. but you were both way too tired for that.

"lets get you cleaned up." he said, kissing your forehead before standing up and helping you off the floor.

"sorry about your hoodie, channie." you told him, looking down at the drenched pile of fabric.

"don't you worry about that, baby. nothing the wash can't fix." he smiled. "now off to the bath with you." he laughed, spanking you playfully.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[onefourone]

deviating from my usual cod fics to write some john munch hcs since im in love with this paranoid old man

➲ sfw + nsfw, gn!reader

SFW —

you have to be very patient with this man tbh. years of dealing with failed marriages have made him wary of starting a new relationship

but after some gentle persistence, he eventually agrees to date casually

which bites him on the ass since he ends up instantly falling for you when he gets to know you

(thankfully for him, you've been in love since you first laid eyes on him)

it'll take some time for him to actually admit that he wants to be serious with you, but it'll be worth it

he likes to talk to you about all his conspiracy theories, even if you don't agree with them

he'll be away a lot due to the nature of his work, but any free time he has gets 100% dedicated to you

he doesn't say it out loud, but he loves when you fuss over his injuries when he comes home banged up from work

loves to show you off at the office and will find any excuse to bring you in when he's not in the field (until cragen rips him a new one and he has to stop)

NSFW —

i know it's low hanging fruit but come on... you can't expect a man named Munch to not have a healthy appetite for your hole

BIG ON CONSENT. he will never force you to do anything you don't feel like and never makes you feel bad for saying no to anything

not really into anything too hardcore that would hurt you because of his work, but if you sit him down and reiterate a few times that you 100% will enjoy and consent, he'll probably reconsider

sometimes he will be too tired or hurt to fuck you properly, but this man is VERY experienced with his tongue and fingers. he won't stop until you've cum multiple times and are thoroughly satisfied

loves to press his lips right onto your ear and whisper about how good you're being

he loves to have you ride him; it's easy on his poor bones and he gets an eyeful of your gorgeous body and face

he won't bring it up himself, but he's 100% into being dominated by his partner 👀

wears your marks with pride! absolutely loves going into work and proudly displaying the hickeys you gave him the night before

[sweeterthanficstion]

— coast2coast (pt. two) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, UNEDITED! fluff, fluff, fluff

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: ngl yall this actually sucked the life out of me, i'm high on like 3 choccy milks and delirious and tired i have work tmrw i wanna sleep.... anyway thank u cressie for providing me with million ideas this ones to u cheers *raises choccy milk to u* --- also sorry i literally hate writing dialogue but this ended up being more dialogue than anything im so sorry in advance if anything sounds WEIRD </3

playlist⭑series masterlist⭑AO3 || part 1⭑part 2⭑part 3 (coming soon)

You have this recurring dream that feels like a distant memory. Washed in milky sunlight, somewhere in Santa Monica, you lost yourself to hot summer days and salt-water tides, sticky fruit juice running down your arms, and the sting of a sunburn peeling across your shoulders.

The year was 1986, August was young and so were you. You’d learn this year just how quickly it’d slip through your fingers.

Barefoot and sun-dazed, you’d escape to the beach each evening. There, you met a boy by the waves. Older, taller, with sun-bleached hair and sun-kissed cheeks. 

You remember a sunset that bled out over the water that evening, long and golden. His laugh echoed yours, and you smiled when he did. He must’ve been summer personified, you’d concluded. With his hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean…

You never did learn his name.

You startle awake to the sound of your alarm clock blaring angrily atop your bedside table. Groaning, you slam a groggy hand down on it, killing the noise, and drag yourself out of bed in twenty minutes flat, your surfboard tucked under your arm.

You track the familiar path behind your old oceanfront home, the sandy trail winding its way down the bluff like a lazy ribbon, overgrown with beach grass and wildflowers that nod in the soft morning breeze. Thick sycamore trees stretch their sprawling branches overhead, casting the path in dappled shadows, leaving behind little islands of light that shimmer over the fine sand. It smells like salt and earth, and the faintest hint of blooming jasmine from somewhere you’ve never quite been able to pinpoint.

Ahead of you, at the base of the trail, your view opens up to the rocky cove that cradles your little slice of the coast. Tucked away from prying eyes, smooth stone outcrops rise like bones from the earth, their surfaces slick with sea spray. Between them, shallow rock pools glimmer in the early morning light, and if you look close enough, you’re sure you’ll find tiny crabs skittering to hide under the lichen-covered stone.

You leap from stone to stone, board tucked under your arm all the while. Your bare feet always know exactly where to land without slipping. 

The sandy shore calls to you in the familiar language of gulls overhead and the steady rush and retreat of waves against the rocks. That’s where Claire will be, you know—her board already waxed and her camera slung over her shoulder.

Claire’s love for the ocean has always been as steadfast as yours, but is her own secret language all the same. Where you see the waves as an escape to get lost in, she sees them as her muse. 

By the time she was twelve, her parents had bought her a little film camera, and she’d started seeing the world in snapshots and light leaks.  

Hopping down from the rock, with your board under one arm and your sandals dangling from your fingers, you make your way to the sand. 

You spot Claire easily, a blur of sun-kissed skin and red hair, crouched by the shoreline with her camera in hand.

She must hear you coming, or maybe it’s years of friendship that stirs the feeling in her chest and urges her to look up.

“Morning, sunshine,” she calls, grin as wide as the ocean behind her.

“Morning,” you echo, dropping your board on to the sand before you follow suit, knees bumping hers as you settle beside her. She hands you her wax wordlessly without a second thought, a quiet, easy rhythm of familiarity you’ve both fallen into over the years.

You think that’s why you love her, love this. Corral Beach is stagnant, always will be. Even the tides seem to move in a familiar pattern around here. After years of following your parents around the globe, constantly chasing something new, you think this is what you need.

“You’re slow today,” Claire hums after a while, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Something on your mind?”

You shrug your shoulders instead, unsure of how to put into words the strangeness in your chest after a lingering dream that feels more like deja vu. “Just savouring it. The water’s not going anywhere.”

“Good thing,” she quips, before leaning back on her hands. Her gaze fixes on the horizon for a moment, but Claire’s never been one for small talk, it’s not long before her eyes dart back to you. “So…”

Here it comes.

“Have you thought about that surf comp yet?” She asks, tilting her head at you in the way she does when she’s trying to be casual but failing miserably.

You groan in dramatics, dragging out the sound as your head falls back. “Claire.”

“What?” She feigns innocence. “It’s not like I’m saying you have to sign up right this second.”

“Not happening,” you sing-song, getting to your feet and taking your board with you. 

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that,” she rolls her eyes, watching you make your way towards the water.

“Can’t hear you!” you shout dramatically, cupping your hand around your ear is if the waves are just too loud. 

She raises an eyebrow, her grin sharpening into something knowing. “Oh, you heard me.”

“Nope, not a word!” you call back with a shrug, and before she can press further, you break into a sprint, your feet kicking up sprays of sand as you rush toward the shoreline.

You can hear Claire laughing as you wade into the cool surf, the water rushing up eagerly to greet you. She doesn’t follow with her longboard in tow, and when you look over your shoulder, the rising sun warming your back, you see her still at the shore, camera held at the ready as she flashes you a thumbs up instead.

The ocean seems to move in whispers beneath you, gentle ripples that build into the promise of a wave. You see it first—a set forming, steady and clean, beckoning you like a siren's call you can’t deny. You paddle out towards it, letting the swell lift you effortlessly. The ocean is alive beneath you, humming its own rhythm, and you move with it. 

The wave stretches on, long and peeling, giving you time to cut back and forth across its glassy face. You dip low, almost touching the water with your hand, then push into a sharp turn, feeling the spray kiss your legs. 

As the wave softens, you coast to a gentle stop, stepping off your board into the shallow surf. The sand squishes under your toes, and it’s only then you see Claire waving her camera in triumph. 

“That’s the one!” She grins, as you wade back towards her, the waves still lapping at your ankles as if begging you to come back. 

Claire meets you halfway, tilting the camera to show you the screen: It’s the perfect shot of you mid-turn, your board slicing through the wave, sunshine filtering through and catching the spray just right, refracting in tiny rainbows like a million scattered diamonds. You have to admit, you do look killer. 

“Are you gonna upload that one?” you ask, brushing wet hair from your face. 

Claire looks at you like it’s a silly question. “Are you kidding? Look at this, it’s perfect. Surfline is gonna eat this up—and if they don’t, they’re insane.”

Her passion radiates off her in waves like the tide does. Claire’s been at this for months now, chasing every opportunity she can find to get her photos not just noticed, but seen. You’ve just about lost count of how many times she’s sent in shots to Surfline.

“Now c’mon,” she continues, “show me what else you’ve got.”

And you do. Over and over, the waves pulling you in, the ocean pulling you home. By the time the sun rises higher in the sky, Claire’s memory card is nearly full, and you’re sure you’ll be late to your shift at Bunny’s if you let yourself fall into the ocean’s allure for any longer. The cove has started to fill with other locals, the place a well kept secret between surfers wanting a quiet retreat.

Claire waits as you shake the last of the saltwater from your hair—or, well, try to—perched atop the sun-bleached remains of an old tree topped sideways. Her legs swing lazily, her tote bag by her feet.

Something must catch her eye, because suddenly she’s letting out a gasp.

“Holy shit.”

Her voice is nearly reverent. You pause, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see him. 

And yeah, Holy shit.

It’s then you see him again, and it feels like magic watching him cut through the wave he’s catching with the ease of someone who does really know what they’re doing.

Blue-eyed blondie from yesterday is out in the surf, carving through the water like he’s part of it, like he’s spent his whole life learning how to move with it instead of against it. He’s all ease, all instinct, cutting clean lines into the wave before it folds beneath him.

It’s hypnotic. Magic, almost.

“He’s good,” Claire murmurs.

“Yeah,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He is good. Too good for someone who claimed to be just okay.

And then, as if he sensing your gaze, he falters.

A hair-width miscalculation, a break in his rhythm, something or other. Then he’s toppling off his board and crashing into the whitewater with all the grace of a bird missing a branch.

There’s but a breath of silence before Claire cackles. “Poor guy.”

You bite down a smile, shaking your head.

“Do you know him?” Claire asks, jogging to catch up as you start walking back toward the trail, her longboard dragging behind her in the sand. “I’ve never seen him around, I wonder how he knows about the cove.”

“No,” you say too quickly before realising how it sounds, “yes? Sort of.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, as if catching onto something unspoken, and you wish all at once for the ground to swallow you up. “That’s not an answer.”

“I met him at the beach yesterday, he saved my board.”

“Oh,” she says, her tone lifting like something just clicked into place. Then, after a pause: “So…”

“So what?” You glance at her, sounding a little exasperated.

“So… what’s the deal? Did you talk to him? Does he live around here?”

You groan. “Claire, it’s nothing. I don’t know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Her grin spreads wider, brighter, knowing. “You’re antsy.”

“No I’m not!” you say firmly, picking up your pace like it’ll somehow leave this conversation behind.

“Sure,” she hums. “Whatever you say.”

The next time you see him is during the afternoon rush at Bunny’s. 

The late-afternoon heat hangs over Corral Beach, and the diner feels like it’s baking under the weight of too many bodies pressed into too small a space. The air conditioner rattles helplessly above the front counter, but it does little to cut through the syrupy warmth.

You’ve been working at Bunny’s long enough to know the rhythm of summer shifts like the back of your hand, the sound of the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, Claire humming along to the shitty little radio perched atop the front desk.

You’ve got a tray of iced teas balanced on one hand, weaving around chairs, tables, and sketchup sticky toddlers, when the bell over the door jingles.

“Welcome to Bunny’s!” Claire chirps from the register, her voice bright and automatic. 

And you don’t look up at first, mind too occupied on your tasks, but then—

“Uh, hi. I—oh, no, you first. Wait— oh, okay.”

That voice. It lilts over the chatter, low and sweet like something you’ve heard all your life.

You turn instinctively, and there he is—standing awkwardly in the entryway, looking like he’s just wandered off a postcard. Blondie, with his damp hair curling at the ends, a stripe of sand on his forearm, like he didn’t quite get it all off. He’s holding the door open for an older couple, sweet boyish grin across his face as they thank him.

He’s swapped out the lifeguard uniform for a thin cotton shirt, and a puka shell necklace.

You blink, fingers tightening around the tray. You wonder by what twist of fate you’ve managed to run into him again.

“Hey, table four’s waiting on their drinks,” Claire calls, snapping you out of it.

“Right, yeah.” 

You drop your gaze, forcing yourself to focus as you slip between tables, pretending the sight of him doesn’t tie your stomach into some ridiculous knot.

It’s not even like he’ll recognise me, you tell yourself as you weave between tables, dropping drinks off at one and sliding a basket of fries onto another. But when you glance back towards the door, you catch him talking to Claire at the register, and your pulse trips over itself.

You head back toward the counter, heart sinking with every step, trying to avoid his gaze, save yourself from any possible embarrassment, say you trip over your own feet or say something utterly stupid.

But Blondie’s perceptive, apparently, just as he’s about to turn away, he does a double take, like he wasn’t expecting you to be here, like maybe he’s not even sure it’s really you. His brows pinch slightly, lips parting as he huffs an amused breath.

“Guess Malibu’s smaller than I thought,” his voice is smooth where you feel jittery all over.

Claire’s brows shoot up, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Oh, so you two know each other?” 

He glances at you again, that stupid smile on his lips. “Yeah.”

“No,” you blurt at the same time, you turn to fiddle with the drinks machine to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Well not really,” you mumble.

Leon’s mouth quirks into the faintest of smiles, like you’ve confirmed some suspicion of his. “That clears things up.”

“I don’t know you,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, though it doesn’t sound nearly as dismissive as you’d hoped. It’s true in half, you don’t know him. Don’t even know his name yet. But why then does it feel like you’ve inexplicably known him forever?

“You could,” he offers, voice light, but his expression betrays him—like his own boldness catches him off guard. 

You bite back a smile. “Don’t push it.”

“You’re holding up the line,” Claire chimes in, all too entertained by whatever this is.

There is no line, unless you count the kids loitering by the counter, trying to nonchalantly steal more straws to build their makeshift tower.

Blondie raises his hands as if in surrender, “alright, well what do you suggest?” And he’s looking at you when he asks. 

God, damn him and those eyes. He has a way of making you feel like the center of the world. You clear your throat, slipping back into safe, scripted territory. “We have the best shrimp tacos on this stretch of the PCH,” you say, repeating the slogan on the chalkboard outside with practiced ease.

His smile softens, like maybe he finds your delivery a little more amusing than convincing. “Sure. Shrimp tacos it is.”

Claire rings him up, and he reaches into the pocket of his board shorts, presumably for his wallet, but before he turns away, he hesitates briefly. “Actually— I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

You quirk a brow. “Uhuh?”

“Was wondering if you could, y’know… show me a few moves.”

You blink. “Moves?”

“Surfing,” he clarifies. 

“You don’t need my help, you’re already great.” You chuckle softly, not exactly sure what to do to hide the heat creeping up your neck now.

His mouth twitches, as if fighting another one of his stupid smirks. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh… uh,” You rub the back of your neck, suddenly regretting your words. “This morning. At the cove.”

His lips part slightly before he lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Malibu can’t be this small.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Anyway, yes or no?”

You narrow your eyes a little, “What’s in it for me?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You owe me one don’t you, for your board? Unless you’re scared of a little challenge.”

You scoff at that. “Oh, watch it, Blondie.”

The grin lingers, easy and teasing. “It’s Leon,” and something about his voice softens. “You can call me Leon. And you?”

You don’t answer right away, caught up in the way his name rings around your head, the way it suits him somehow—like salt air and early mornings and something easy.

His lips press together, “Alright then,” he murmurs, pushing back from the counter, his eyes still on you. “Keep your secrets, sunshine.”

You roll your eyes but don’t fight the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

His order is up in five, and when you slide the basket of tacos across the counter, there’s a napkin tucked underneath—your name scrawled across it in quick, slightly smudged ink, punctuated with a little smiley face.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[shotmrmiller]

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS AMAZING PLS IM SOBBING I LOVE IT SO MUCH GIVING U SMOOCHES

but okay so you sleep by yourself that night he comes home. you know he goes out with the boys — mostly on the weekends but sometimes the weekdays too — so when he comes home just a bit later than usual it doesn’t ring any alarm bells even if you pout a little. and you damn near run into his arms and snuggle into his neck only to smell — not him. something, someone else has touched what you thought was yours.

you pull back from the hug to look him over further. clothes mussed up, lips looking like they were bitten, a little flushed. a little like when you two —

you swallow thickly, throat lining with glass and tears as you suck in a breath. you find that you can’t actually form words for a moment, worried that only bile and venom would come out.

“did you fuck someone?”

he looks panicked — guilty — and you don’t even need him to say it for you to know what he’s done.

“who?” you ask, voice barely there, only able to be heard over the icy silence that followed your question. he replies one of the other pets. you nod, more to yourself than anything, trying not to scream your heart out at him.

but your heart cracks the moment he opens his mouth.

for the first time since you began living with him, you slept alone.

(you did scream at him. tripping over your words and panicked breaths and streams of tears. how could he do this. he didn’t call, didn’t ask. did he even think to? did he even care?)

you’re exhausted. too tired crying like you’ve never cried before, feeling like the weight of betrayal is crushing you as you sleep.

you almost fear that it’ll kill you.

the next day — friday — he knocks on your door before he goes to work. he tells you to have a good day. you don’t acknowledge him.

but you miss him. you absolutely fucking hate him but you miss him so much, it hurts. that particular ache is almost worse than the one of betrayal.

almost.

by mid day, you figure you should give him a chance to talk. he obviously feels guilty, and you love him. despite everything, you love him.

so you clean yourself up and try to look a little pretty for him, wearing a cute slip lingerie dress and bows on your ears.

you clean up around the flat a little. you fold his clothes — he’s been grumbling about it lately and always say he’d do it later. so you do it for him, folded with precision and left to sit on the edge of the bed.

you’re still upset and anxious and everything in between. the nerves make it hard to feel anything and you feel too sick to eat. but you nibble on some bread, knowing he wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself. you love him.

when it starts getting later, you decide to make him his favorite cookies. it’s been awhile since you’ve made him anything, and you’ve always enjoyed making these for him. the sweetest kisses tend to follow.

the night rolls around to the point where you know he’s off work. it’ll take him a little to get home, so you settle on the couch and wait.

but as the hours tick by, later and later, the worry grows and gnaws and threatens to split you from the inside out.

maybe he’s out with the boys again? you’d think, given the circumstances, he’d want to come home to you. but old habits die hard, you suppose.

but it gets later. and later.

later than he ever would be out even when things were perfect between you two.

it shatters you. where was he? what was he doing? was he —

the thought makes you sick.

he comes home after midnight. after you wretched in the toilet and cried yourself to sleep — again.

didn’t he love you too?

he sees the cookies put away in a container and a pit grows in his stomach, a void ready to eat his heart. whatever is left of it, anyways.

there’s a note sitting on the top.

“sleep well.”

the writing was shaky and it looks like a few tears spilled onto the words as you wrote them.

your usual xoxo at the bottom was crossed out.

you beat me to it:)

you bloody beat me to it. Fool me once.

your eyes are blank as if the life had all but faded from them, and in a way, they had.

Sitting him down, you calmly, (calmly, because there is nothing in you left other than acceptance, and youll be damned before you ever beg a man to want you) say, "I'll be leaving in the morning."

He tries to say something but nothing he could ever say will fix what he chose to break. "No, the fact that i'm even bothering to tell you is a courtesy you don't deserve. You've made your bed, now continue to lie in it with whoever you keep seeing after work." Smoothly, you get up and walk towards your room.

There is no rancor in your heart for whoever it is he's been with. After all, the one in the relationship with you was him.

You stuff a towel under the door, covering the gap, and clutch your collar to your chest, letting the last tears youll ever cry over him track down your cheeks. He doesn't deserve to see nor hear your pain.

You call an uber while he's at work and disappear.

When he comes back home, the place is dark and empty. He sits at the dinner table alone, with two fingers of whiskey in front of him, and in his hand is the last note you left him, stiff with dried tears and an xoxo at the very bottom.

What makes him crumble is when he sees the glint of your personalized collar on his nightstand, and it finally hits him that you're gone. For good.

listening to eurielle while writing epic sad is just chefs kiss.

[luvrxbunny]

crybaby

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader 

Prompt: Dacryphilia(?)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, insecure thoughts/relationship doubts, piv, unprotected sex  (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.1k

A/N: *gasp* im on time?! i hope this counts- reader is crying but it's not a turn-on or anything, it's kinda just something that's happening

Eddie’s band had been on tour for a month now, all his classes were online and he’d Facetime you so you could ensure he’s doing his work but you still miss him. He’s supposed to come home in a week and you don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve been stressed out of your mind without his calming presence, you’ve told him about some of your stresses and he’s helped but you’re starting to feel like you’re just putting a dampener on his tour so you stopped. 

You miss him so much it’s heartbreaking. You knew it would be hard, after being with Eddie for two years now you guys have never spent more than a week apart. You thought though, that after being with him for so long you’d be fine, you’d saved up enough ‘Eddie Time’ to get through the month. You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

He was nice enough to let you stay in his room for the month, and you never noticed how big his bed was. You actually used to complain that it isn’t big enough for the both of you but now the only thing you can think is how big it is. If this bed was really made for one person then why is it so big? 

Your math homework is scattered on the floor, thrown off the bed in a fit of frustration. You miss him. It’s not that he could’ve done the math for you or anything but he’d make you feel better at least, help you google it and try to figure it out, maybe make you feel like less of a dumbass. But he’s not here. You sigh into his pillow before inhaling his faint scent, tears almost springing to your eyes. 

You try not to tell him too much about how deeply your yearning for him goes. You don’t want him to feel bad for leaving, you couldn't be more proud of him for booking this little tour and you’d never want him to stay back for you… but it wouldn’t hurt if he could make a little more time. These past few weeks you’ve barely been able to keep him on the phone, only being available for a few minutes before having to run into a meeting, a practice session, or a vocal lesson. Apparently, he tried to cram all of his meetings and such into this week so that he could spend his last few tour nights getting shitfaced. 

He had told you the plan in a rushed and staticky call while he was in an elevator, that was the only free time he had for you, his girlfriend. An elevator ride.

So now you’re in his favorite pair of panties and one of his shirts in case he wants to video call. He gave you piles of silly promises of video-chat sex, you laughed at them when he made them but started craving them after the first two days. He called you on the Wednesday of his first week gone with plans for ‘sex’ but ended up a bit too tired. That was the only time he called… You’re still hopeful though. 

You try your best to hold back your tears as you press your face into his pillow. You jump when you hear the front door unlock but when you check the time you realize it’s just Wayne. He doesn’t mind you being here, you make your own dinner and buy groceries sometimes, other than that you guys don’t really interact so you stay where you are, sniffling into Eddie’s pillow. Unfortunately, you miscalculated how loud you were because suddenly Eddie’s room door opened and your body froze. You’re waiting for him to make some awkward attempt at a soothing, comforting conversation, muscles tense with the promise of embarrassment. 

“Man, I don’t even get a ‘hi’?” Eddie.

Your head whips up from the pillow and your heart breaks at the way his smile drops along with his bags as he rushes to your side of the bed. “What’s wrong? Did Wayne say some-” You’re sitting up and crashing your lips into his with a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his body to press against yours. You’re still getting up, wanting to be as close to him as you can and now kneeling on the bed, almost his height as he’s standing. You’re gripping the sides of his face, whimpering into his mouth as he coos into yours and his hands are around your waist, pulling your body into his.

You only pull away once you begin to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen and even then you’re still pressing kisses all over his giggling face. He has to wrestle you into a hug to get you to stop, laughing into your ear with his chest bouncing against yours. “So you missed me?” He says with a cocky tone, but when he pulls away to smile at you there’s a genuine vulnerability in them that you’re in love with. 

You kiss him again, a little peck before smiling against his lips. “I missed you so much, Eddie.” Your voice cracks with emotion and his arms tense around you for a moment before lifting to cup your cheek and pulling you in for a slow, romantic kiss. His tongue slides over your lips before slipping into your mouth and relearning your taste. You can already feel yourself melting for him, all your bones turning to jelly and dampening your panties. You’re pulling him down already, trying to get him in bed and he’s laughing. 

“Slow down, baby! I-” You kiss him again, a silent beg for him to just get in bed with you. You bring your hands into his hair and whimper against him as your hips twitch in the air just from his taste. You slide your tongue into his mouth this time, earning a shocked moan from the back of his throat as your tongue slides against his, admiring its softness and the moans the action elicits from him. His hands leave your body as he fumbles with his belt. He’s nodding subtly and subconsciously against you as he gives in to his needs. 

You can hear him growing more unrestrained as he takes his pants off, his breaths quickly speed up and become heavier. His movements get a bit fumbled and frantic as he tries to kiss you and get his long legs out of his skinny jeans. He ends up crashing on you, tripping over his pants, and landing half on you half on the bed. He’s giggling intermittently, still trying to drown his lips in yours. You’re grinning wildly at his desperation, happy that he needed you as badly as you needed him.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” You chuckle half-heartedly against his neck once he gets his leather jacket off. He’s left in his wife beater, boxers, and chains, climbing over you, hands roaming every part of your body. He has this animalistic look in his eyes, one you’re sure matches the look on your face. You wrap your arms around his waist, running your hands lightly up his back and smiling at the way he shudders as his eyelids flutter. His hand comes up to rest beside your head as he lowers his crotch to yours, holding eye contact and groaning once his pulsing cock comes in contact with your hot core. 

He leans back and reaches down for the hem of the t-shirt- his t-shirt that you’re wearing and pulls it up. He has to apologize for the way his hips jerk against yours, thrusting him against your covered pussy like he was actually fucking you, but he couldn’t help it, not when you’re wearing these panties. He leans back down and presses his forehead against yours to let a ragged groan out against your face. Your hips twitch into his slowly building pace at the sound.

“How-” He cuts himself off with a groan and buries his face in your neck, muttering praises and kissing the skin there before coming back up. “How can you tell me to- to calm down when you know-” One hand comes down to the band of your panties, reaching between your thighs to pull the elastic there and snap it against your sensitive skin. “You know you’re wearing these… hm? Explain that, sweetheart.” He says the last tone with a drop of venom, teasing the nickname you used for him earlier while purposely grinding his tip into your clit so he can watch you stumble over your answer. 

He chuckles and pulls away once he’s had enough of your silent, trembling lips, trying desperately to form words for him. He pulls his boxers down to his thighs and takes one leg out before pulling on the elastic of your panties again. “Are you just gonna watch or do you wanna get undressed too, my love?”

He says it with a smirk but there’s something about it that’s more loving than teasing as it has a new heat blooming over the one that’s already resting in your stomach. You’d been just staring at him, admiring him as he undressed and you’re sneaking peeks at him even now, as you take your panties off. He smiles at your struggle to take them off, wiggling on your back to shimmy them around your thighs and he’s climbing back over you the second you have them off. 

“Been needing you so long, baby.” His statement sounds so genuine as he strokes his cock against your entrance, the tip nudging into your messy hole on every other stroke. It’s a tease but Eddie doesn’t even mean for it to be, he’s just mesmerized by the way his cock is just crying into you, pouring everything he has into your perfect little hole. He groans and has to shut his eyes, a bit worried at how the thought makes his cock throb. He looks up at you for assurance once more and his face crumbles at the way you’re already staring at him. You’re giving him the big pretty eyes, the sweetest face you have, begging him to put it in, to fill your every crevice with his thick cock and he gives it to you before you can even blink. 

He thrusts his hips forward, plowing his way through your tight ring of muscle, groaning at the way you squeeze his cock and the way your hands are gripping his shoulders, looking for purchase from the pleasure he’s assaulting you with. You try to stay calm, you keep your limbs from shaking, your eyes from rolling back and you’re trying to keep your face neutral but his cock twitches inside you once, and your entire resolve breaks. A shiver runs up your spine as you curl in on yourself and groan his name while pulling him down to lean into his neck. You can’t see the way his eyes roll back at your breath on his neck but you can feel the way he’s already shaking against you. His arms give out, dropping him to press flush against you with a grunt. He apologizes mindlessly, his hips never stopping their steady pace. 

You are surrounded by him, floating away yet grounded by him. You love him so much and he’s been gone for so long. You’re overcome with joy at finally having your boy back in your arms, moaning sweetly into your ear, his adorable little body shaking against you as he fucks his desperate cock into you. He didn’t even know you were missing him so much but he came home early anyway, ready and wanting for you. You feel embarrassment nip at your belly as tears spring to your eyes. You try to bury your face in his shoulder and ignore it, let him keep fucking you as much as he needs. 

You don’t want him to stop and if he sees you’re crying that’s exactly what he’ll do. You’ve never felt so consumed, so wrapped and completely enveloped in love before. You only started to even understand what love was when Eddie started loving on you. You’re so grateful for him and everything he is and his dick is sliding into you so perfectly. He’s bullying your G-Spot every time he thrusts in, his fat tip hitting your most sensitive spot and turning your brain to mush with every movement. 

Your tear slides down your face when he moans your name into your ear like a prayer, like you’re the best thing he ever has or will have. It falls onto his shoulder and rolls off his arm, he slows for a moment, his moans turning into muted pants as he listens and observes. His hips slow even more when he takes in your shaking hands and trembling shoulders. He tries to pull your head from his neck, his pace more of a lazy thrust now but you refuse and that’s what makes him stop completely. “Baby?”

His voice is shaking and scared, his hand is trembling on the back of your head, softly cradling it. You whine into his neck and lift your hips, sinking his cock back into your hole with a hushed moan as Eddie clamps his eyes shut, bites into his lip, and presses his hands on your hips, forcing them back down to the bed. “Can’t fuck you if you’re crying, my love. What’s-” You cut him off with a shaky whimper at his term of endearment and try to explain yourself. 

“Still wan’ it.” You whine to him like that’s the most obvious thing in the world. His hips twitch against you before his cock slowly slides out and back in again. “Yeah?” He questions before speeding up a bit, still keeping a tame, relaxing pace. Your muscles un-tense and your head falls back, exposing your neck to Eddie who happily dives in. “Yeah..” You sigh out as he starts pressing air-light kisses to your sensitive skin. 

“Jus’ missed you so much, Ed.” He whimpers into your neck at the confession and his hips speed up just a fraction. “Needed you all the time but-” You whimper as he bites your skin gently, choosing to use a bit more force on some parts. “But you were so busy- an’-” You moan and dig your fingers in his hair as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to draw in, slowly tightening from Eddie’s thrust and your outpour of emotion and love. “An’ now you’re here and you’re so perfect and so good, Eddie.” Your eyes roll back as you lock your legs behind Eddie’s waist forcing him to keep his cock pressed into you fully, making you feel so full. His thighs are jumping at your words- so innocent but somehow have more effect on him than any dirty talk he’s heard before. 

He pulls his head out of your neck, little droplets of water littering his long lashes. “Missed you too, doll.” His words are a rough whimper against your lips before he dives in, his hips now moving at a new speed, reinvigorated by your love. He’s kissing you messy, basically just pressing his lips against yours and fucking you, your tongues are everywhere, trying to taste everything and making a mess of both of your faces, all while his hips fuck into you with mind-blowing precision, sending tsunamis of pleasure through your bones on every thrust. 

The coil in your stomach tightens even further, reaching the point of no return as your legs tighten around him again. You try to calm down, to keep your pussy from fluttering around Eddie but his knowing chuckle in your ear breaks your resolve, and your pussy spasms around him. “Yeah. Felt like you were trying something.” He reangles himself and adjusts his thrusts, changing them to a slow, hard grind so he stimulates your clit, bringing you to the edge closer than you expected. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails grip him and he groans against you, his eyes rolling back with a gut-wrenching smirk on his face. “Mmm- Mark me up, sweetheart. I-” He breathes out a desperate breath of air, inhaling you instead with a strained whine before dropping into your neck again. His hips grow a bit frantic and his whines turn to rabid grunts as he fucks into you with everything he has, trying to hold off his orgasm as you moan and twitch around his overly sensitive cock. 

“Cum all over me, baby.” It’s a request and Eddie was ready to beg but you let go at his first utterance. You explode all over him, he has to reach up lightning fast to slap his hand over your mouth as your eyes cross and you moan, completely debauched into his hand. He grunts out against his hand, biting his lip to try and hold his sounds in as you soak his dick, squeezing him erratically as you cum. He tries to hold back, let you finish basking in your orgasm before pouring his seed into you but your muffled sounds are too much. He whines out curses and moans of your name against the back of his hand as you moan for him into the other side. 

His hips slam into yours one last time to push himself as deep as he can go before his cock explodes. He doesn’t know how he had so much cum inside him but he’s sure it’s going to overflow. He can’t even think as his orgasm tears through him, he can hear you encouraging him distantly and it forces another load to rack through his body. His balls are painfully tight as he tries to give you everything he has, completely empty his balls into you. It’s all for you anyway. He lets you know too, it’s the only thing he’s able to mutter to you as he cums. “S’all f’you, baby. All for you.”

He whimpers against you with a few more tremors shooting through his body before wrapping his arms around your waist and rolling onto his back with a sigh. You giggle softly and try to climb off of him but you get a groan of protest. “Eddie, m’heavy, baby.” You smile as you speak, letting your fingers run over his wet, pink lips. He snorts in response. “Liar.” He readjusts his position, sinking into the bed some more, wrapping his arms tighter, and falling asleep. You pretend to be upset that you’re left with no option but to cuddle with him until you fall asleep in his arms. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[sl8yter]

Get It Together - Mühl

Pt 1.

Nikas bestfriend Nahiem is “going through a hard time” and Nika is always there for him. Which causes a lack of presence for her gf.

TW - Angst, mentions of cheating, insecurity, nika being a meanie, and lots of audacity

Im in the mood for angst so sorry yall

Nika Muhl x fem reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Nika.”

….

“Baby hello?”

…

“Nika”

“Huh oh sorry bebo I was texting Nahiem” Nika replies to my endless please in an exasperated tone looking at me standing in the kitchen as I prepare our plates

Dont start and argument please Niks

“Didn’t you guys just hang out last week? You said this week it’d be about us.” I walk towards Nika setting her plate on the table in front of me

“Hes my best friend and hes going through a hard time right now. I cant just ignore him.” She says finally taking her eyes off her phone to look at me

“Yea I know and I understand that but sometimes it feels like you care about him more than you do me.”

“Well I didn’t mean to make you feel that way and im sorry you do”

I sit down frustrated at her statement slightly banging the plate against the table

“Jesus christ, please dont be like that tonight” Nika says playing with her food

“Youre right, Im sorry its just that I love you you know that I do and I wish to spend time with you but its hard to do that when your friend is dragging you off everywhere. It makes me feel ignored.”

Why am I apologizing shes the one with the attitude

“Well Im sorry you feel that way bebo im not trying to ignore you. I want to spend time with you too. But Nahiem needs me too. We’ve been friends forever you know that” Nika says staring at me with a look in her eyes. The same look she gives me whenever she just wants me to agree with her

“I need you too Nika its not fair youve guys have been hanging out too much. I mean imagine if I went to go hang out with one my guy friends every other day.”

“What the fuck are you trying to imply here” Nikas tone changes. Her syllables grow sharper and her accent comes out

Shes mad

She stares at me waiting for my reply as im silent for a moment

“Im not trying to imply anything. I just want you to understand how it looks from my perspective. Which now you clearly do. I dont think you would do that to me but I cant help but wonder sometimes. Youre always texting him and barely even texting me anymore.”

“Im not cheating on you if thats what youre trying to imply. I lost my appetite, im gonna head out.” She adds with quickness, standing up from her chair and grabbing her keys off the counter

“No you always do this. Whenever things dont go your way or I dont immediately agree with you you leave I want to talk more. I want you to understand me more.” I say chasing after her pulling her arm to make her look at me

“Well I try and you make it so difficult”

“You try? You’re kidding me. I barely see you anymore. I wake up and youre gone. I tell you I want to talk its always im busy or later im out with friends. Im trying it feels like im the only one trying anymore.”

“I try so hard you just dont see it.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it giving me a sorrowful face.

That isnt what she looks like when shes sad

“What dont I see Nika please explain to me” I ask knowing shes full of it. She just wants someone to come home to

…

Her silence makes me snap. I let go of her hand

“Im actually so tired of your bullshit. Im gonna be frank with you since you arent gonna comprehend it any other way. I love you Nika I want to work on our relationship but you have to want that too. At this point ive debated leaving and ive also debated staying in case the sweet girl I knew a year ago wanted to show up again. I think we need couples counsel-”

Im cut off by her grabbing the sides of my face and attempting to kiss me. I retract quickly and try to ask her why she did that but she cuts me off before Ieven start

“Why are you being so difficult right now.” She says giving me a look of disgust. As if a kiss or angry fuck was gonna fix this

“Fuck off Nika. You can leave. Im not the one being difficult. I really dont want to lose you but if youre gonna keep being such a dickhead to me you cant leave. Ive had enough. I try so hard to understand you and I want you to let me im but obviously that isnt gonna happen. I love you but its obvious its not reciprocal.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Leave. Get your self together then you can come back to me. Its gonna be hard to put whatever emotions you have or had for me into words but when you do and you can explain to me why you wanted to throw all this away for me for some guy who probably wants to hit and dip.” I say in the calmest voice possible holding back from yelling at her. If i yell im gonna cry and if I cry Nikas gonna hug me, then ill fold.

I cant give in this time

“Wait bebo im sorry okay I can see how much this hurts you. Lets talk this out I can stop talking to nahiem. I swear he doesnt mean anything to me. I love you let me prove it.” She says, her long and built arms trying to snake around me

“No Nika , I already tried to talk this out. Go back to your dorm, take a shower, and go to sleep. Then we can talk all you want. I need to be alone tonight” I say pushing myself off her as I walk away heading to my room

“Im sorry baby please don’t do this” She says still standing at the door

At least she respects my space

But she doesn’t respect me

“Go to bed Nika” I say before shutting my door

I hear a soft cry before the muffled sound of the door shutting and locking

I hope she does wanna talk in the morning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also i dont proofread my writing. I write based off what my angelic soul is telling me so if you see some mistakes or some blank spaces 🦍🦍🦍

[artydonsgf]

hello my sweets, as promised, here is first time saying i love you headcanons with art, tashi, and patrick !!

Art Donaldson

- he said it first

- it was the night of your six month anniversary and you were out for dinner

- he kept looking at you all weird and you thought maybe he felt sick so you asked him if he wanted to go home

- he gets even more freaked out and basically shouts that he’s fine

- you hold his hand and ask him what’s the problem so he takes a deep breath

- and says that he loves you

- you both go silent and you’re freaking out cause the boy you’re in love with loves you too and he’s freaking out because you look shocked

- immediately backpedals and explains that you don’t need to say anything back

- you cut him off with a fat kiss to the lips in the middle of fucking applebees and tell him you love him too

- he breaths the biggest sigh of relief and kisses you again

- he tells you after you both calm down that he’s been in love with you since before he started dating you

- he has notes in his phone where he wrote down every time he wanted to say i love you

- they literally date back to your third date. he’s genuinely crazy

- half of them are drunk messages where he’s just ranting about how much he loves you or they’re stone cold sober n he’s talking about “i want to tell her i love her but im gonna look crazy, keep it together art”

- extremely obsessed with saying it to you, says it when he hangs up, when you’re literally just going downstairs to grab something

- loves you with his whole heart n is so excited that he can say it

Tashi Duncan

- you guys say it the same time

- well, you both plan on saying it the same night

- for your 6 month anniversary, she plans an at home dinner where she cooks everything

- it’s a candlelight dinner with the low lighting and romantic music in the back

- you both start to talk at the same time, telling each other there’s something you want to say

- you insist she goes first and with rosy cheeks and a shy smile, she tells you that she loves you

- you laugh out loud n the smile on her face drops

- you’re trying so hard to stop laughing but you’re near tears from how hard you’re laughing

- you’re quick to correct, telling her through laughs that you were literally going to tell her the exact same thing

- she’s giddy, you’re giddy, dinner is basically forgotten

- she slips it into the convo shyly from there on out but slowly says it way more as she falls deeper in love with you

Patrick Zweig

- you said it first

- it was a month in and for some reason, you felt like it was the absolute perfect time

- you’re cuddled up on the couch and it just falls out

- he freezes and you instantly assume you came on way too strong

- he asks you to give him a second because he feels like he’s making this up in his head

- you inform him that no, you love him and you’ve loved him since you met him

- he jumps up (dropping you on the floor in the process) and dances around

- once he regains his senses, he picks you up, kisses you a bunch, and tells you that he loves you too

- he told you he was way too scared to actually say it and thought maybe he was saying it too soon

- turns out you’re both crazy n seem to think saying i love you one month in is totally normal!

- win win situation

- he says it all the time but he also shows you too!

- kisses to the shoulder when he hugs you in greeting, genuine thank yous when you pack him lunch, back massages when you’re tired after a long day of work

i wrote this because i’m crazy n in love with all of them! hope you’re also crazy n in love, enjoy!

[rosenclaws]

Can I request 15 and 34 from the fluff prompt list with either Logan or Charlie, please? Congrats on 600!! 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

Join my 600 Follower celebration!!

15 - “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

34 - “I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy.”

a/n: Thank you for requesting!!! Funny enough though they're both fluff prompts this somehow turned angsty dasflk;j im so sorry i do it to myself

He's hiding something. You know he is. Logan has just been different. I mean he was always grumpy and short tempered but this was something else. You thought, or well you had hoped that your time in the void had really bonded you.

You were trash from another universe while he had gotten dragged through hell by Wade. He got you and you got him. You were a failure to your universe so they pruned you. Logan was the worst variant of Wolverine. Something felt nice about having someone else who was the worst with you.

Ever since you landed in Wade's universe you had only gotten closer. Both of you picking up odd jobs for money until you finally landed a steady bakery job. Horribly early hours and lots of hard work but it meant you could be home by lunch. Logan was often out late too. He wouldn't tell you what he was doing but he came back with enough rent money so you didn't question him. You used to eat lunch together. It was a way to make sure the both of you were actually taking care of yourselves. It wasn't anything fancy. Just sandwiches or pasta or something easy.

But for some reason Logan has been avoiding you. Constantly. To the point where he'd leave the room if you were there. It was really starting to bug you. You don't know what's going on with him. You catch him staring sometimes. His eyes are worn and broken. When you try and approach him they harden right back up and he stalks away. It was infuriating.

You finally reached your boiling point when you came home early from work one day. Your back aching and you're dead tired. You lean your forehead against the door, just taking a moment. Then you hear him laugh. You know it's him. He's got this unmistakable snort that he tries to hide but he can't. So he's just avoiding you, no one else. Its you. You're the problem and you don't understand why. In a fit of anger you slam the door open.

"Out! Everyone except for you." You point at Logan. The room clears quickly. Wade opens his mouth to say something but you glare with a ferocity so strong he shuts up.

"Good luck kitty cat!" He whisper yells before hurrying out the door.

"What?" Logan grumbles, his eyes averting to the ground. You scoff and throw your things on the couch.

"What is your problem? You've been avoiding me."

"Why do you fucking care? Not like we were close anyways." He asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Bullshit Logan. I'm asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me. I see you across the room look so sad but the moment I even take a step you're back to this shit." You gesture to his closed off stance.

He's running from you and you demand to know why. He puffs out his chest and stands up. Mumbling about how ridiculous this is and tries to walk away from you.

"Logan! For fucks sake!" You follow him, your anger morphing into confusion as he continues to run.

"Just tell me what I did?!" Your voice breaks as the desperation comes out. You just want him back.

"Nothing!" He growls as he turns back to face you. Slamming his hand against the wall. You jump as he cages you in. He's breathing hard as he stares at you. This is the closest you've been in weeks.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is softer, sadder.

"There has to be something Logan. I miss you." He sighs and clenches his fist.

Fuck he thought he could avoid this. That he could get you to run away before he fucked it all up but for some reason you're still here.

"I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy. I mean just look at me.” Logan thinks so low of himself. He always has. He's a fucked up lost cause. Everyone he cares about dies or gets hurt and its always his fault.

"You make me happy." He confesses.

You make him feel unlike anything else. Like he's not the monster he was. You look at him and he just, smiles. It's weird and strange and a feeling he's not used to. It scares him to his core.

"Man you really are stupid." You say in disbelief.

"I...What?" Logan looks confused but you grab his face and kiss him.

He stumbles back in surprise but ends up taking control quickly. Pushing you against the wall and digging his hands into your hips.

"You make me happy too Logan, so please don't run away from me."

You comb your fingers through his hair as you tug him closer to you. He closes his eye as he leans his forehead on yours. The urge to shut you out is there, listening would be easier but there's a chance at real happiness right in in front of him and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"Fuck it." He grabs your waist and pulls you tight. Smashing his lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

He can be selfish, just this once.

Just for you.

[dckweed]

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND ➺ bob floyd

summary: In which bob floyd gets himself into a bit of a pickle and calls on his hot, recently single neighbor to help him out, the situation is mutually beneficial..in more ways than one.

warnings: fake dating, violence, domestic violence mentioned, nicknames, slowburn, eventual smut.

this is an x reader fic where reader is referred to as sunshine or sunny as a nickname, also i know the moodboard is a lil wonky no one say anything im gonna fix it! i made it on my phone half asleep lmao.

comment below for taglist!

wordcount: 2260

 PART ONE - THE LIE. 

The music was soft in the background for once, his friends laughter the loudest thing in the room. Bob couldn’t help but to laugh along with them as he took a swig of his third beer of the night, a little more than tipsy but not completely drunk. He knew he was a lightweight, and this was the only time he ever preferred to drink, in the comfort of his own home surrounded by people he trusted. His friends were all gathered around his coffee table, some of them on the couch, some of them sprawled on the floor as they laughed and goofed off, the NHL game they had all gathered to watch together no longer a top priority. 

Bradley and Natasha had been talking about the blind dates they had been on recently, set up by each other, each of them pointing out the flaws in the others choosing with racious laughter as they knocked back their alcohol and made a mess of Bob’s coffee table as they playfully fought each other, Bradley flipping over the bowl of potato chips that was sat out as he kicked his leg across the table from the floor to hit his friend. Bob laughs at the scene, not minding the mess because the situation was just so funny and he was for once in his life, enjoying being in the moment. 

“Look what you did, numbnuts! You spilled all the chips!” Hangman shouts, tossing his couch pillow at them from where he lay on the love seat across from Bob. Bradley catches it mid-air and tosses it back to Jake, a terrible throw and a clear enough window into how drunk he is because it doesn’t get any air and knocks clear into the row of open bud lights, knocking them over and causing what was left to slosh out onto the floor. Javy groans, slipping out of the chair he was sat in to pick up the bottles as Bob gets up to get a towel to sop up the wet beer from his outrageously expensive rug so his little shih tzu, Cosie wouldn’t go licking it up when he passed out tonight. 

He was only gone for a few moments but by the time he came back the subject of dating had suddenly been turned to him. He shakes his head, trying not to think to hard about how he was way more than tipsy by that point because the whole room started to spin when he did that. “No, not dating right now.” He says, kneeling down to start cleaning up the mess as Javy comes back from throwing away the bottles. 

Jake scoffs from next to him taking a long drag of his own beer, and Bob braces himself for whats coming next. “Of course not,” He says, a small bit of disdain in his tone, but Bob knew it was all just friendly teasing, even if it did hurt him. Even if he was so tired of constantly hearing from everyone about how he needed to get out into the dating pool. Truthfully, he was tired of being single, but he didn’t need these jack offs meddling in his love life the way Natasha had been doing with her blind dates with girlfriends she’d made off base. It just didn’t work out for him, it never did. 

But god, he was tired of hearing it from Jake about how he was ‘too afraid of girls’ to actually go out and date one, they were grown ass adults, weren’t they? Why did it matter what he did with his personal life outside of work and the friend group? He didn’t like to date around, he liked relationships. Besides, he wasn’t afraid of girls either. That one was starting to piss him off, wither away at that self control that his mama swore he was born with too much of. Not that any of them needed to know that..so why then, did he feel like proving them all wrong?

He knew in the back of his drunk mind that his next choice of words was not a good one to make, and he had just dug himself into a terribly deep hole that would haunt him for the rest of his life (good god he would probably have to change placements if they ever fucking found out, or better yet, retire from the navy altogether). But Lord help him, he opened his mouth anyway and let the words out. 

“I don’t think my girlfriend would like me seeing other people.” He says, taking a kind of sick pleasure in hearing Jake snort beer out of his nose as he sits up so quickly he falls off of the couch, his words catching the attention of his other friends too. “What?” He asks, looking around at all of their gaping faces. He regretted his lie immediately. “Is it so hard to picture me with a girlfriend? I am capable of getting one, you know.” A dig at Jake just for the fucking fun of it. 

There was a long moment of silence before all of their voices were flooding his ears at once, questions coming from all directions. It was almost as if the news had shocked them sober. 

What did I just do? 

THE WEEK PREVIOUS- 

Sunshine Y/L/N, was many things, a bitch, a whore, a liar, a psycho (all depending on which of her ex-boyfriends and family members you asked),..but a fool was not one of them. You were not foolish enough to let a man raise a hand to you and cower away and accept his apology because you thought you deserved it or because it would placate him. And so when the asshole you had been in the midst of arguing with because he swore to god that you were fucking the bouncer at work (you would never, you weren’t in to bald men who looked like broke versions of mr. clean) cocked his arm back and slapped you across the face so hard that blood splattered from your nose, you clenched a fist and let all hell break loose. 

You had screamed, and screamed and screamed and had thrown anything that you could get hands on, drawing blood on his forehead as an empty flower vase shattered against the wall that she shared with her neighbor. “Look what you did, you crazy bitch!” He yelled, holding a hand to his forehead, offended that you had dared to retaliate against him. 

You sucked in a deep breath, fists clenching. There was nothing you hated more than being called crazy. You were not crazy. You were not fucking crazy. “Get out.” You breathed, a surprisingly steady hand pointing towards the door that was being banged on from an outside source. The man looks at you as if you were a bull with three heads. “Are you deaf? I said get the fuck OUT!” You had bellowed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him to the door, it took all of three seconds to throw open the chain locking the door before tossing the sorry fucker out, straight into your neighbor, Bob, who had very obviously been banging on the door. 

“Woah-” The tall, lanky man had said, catching the rat bastard who had been flung out at him. He pushes him off of him, noticing the blood on his face and looks at you, the blood streaming from your nose. “Are you okay?” He asks, his immediate thought on his neighbor as watched the guy storm off towards the stairwell at the end of the hallway. 

You sniffed, jaw clinched as you nod, watching the jerkoff walk away before running back inside. Bob follows as you yank open the window in the living room before running back down a hallway, to the bedroom he assumed. Bob had looked around at the mess of glass and blood splatters on the floor, wondering what the fuck had taken pace. He had heard yelling, and glass shattering and had run over trying to open the door. “Mother fucker, DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK HERE!” You scream, tossing a heap of clothes out of the window and down onto the street, Bob heard a mans yell and knew they must’ve landed directly on the offending asshole. “Stupid fucking son of a fucking bitch.” 

“Um, Sunny,” Bob says, placing a gentle hand on your slender shoulder. You were shaking, with fear or anger he isn’t sure but he wants to help. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t know what else to ask, what else to do. He’d never been in this kind of situation before. 

He watches you raise a hand and use the back of it to wipe your bloody nose before turning around to face him, your friendly neighbor whose dog you often watched when he had to work overnights at the base or when he had been on his deployment for the uranium mission. Blood smeared across your upper lip and cheek as you look up at him, eyes watery and full of an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. The smile on your face is terrifyingly sexy. “Just peachy, bobby,” You whispered, blinking the tears in your eyes away as you set your shoulders squarely. “My step-daddy didn’t raise no fucking bitch, a man like him wants to hit me, he better be prepared for me to hit him back ten times fucking harder.” 

Bob didn’t know what to say, so he resulted for saying a simple okay and stayed around to help you clean up the mess that littered your normally spotless living room. He had even ordered you pizza while you were in the bathroom cleaning up your face, paying for it without telling you because he knew you would argue. He knew you made good money in your line of work, he knew you liked paying for your own things, but he was a gentleman nonetheless and wanted to take care of a neighbor who was clearly in some kind of need of support. He had stayed until you had fallen asleep, silently letting himself out of your apartment and the pair of you hadn’t crossed paths until a week later, granted, you hadn’t left your apartment much (you couldn’t very well go to work with a bruise on your face, it certainly wouldn’t bode well with your bosses nor with your customers) for your paths to have crossed to begin with. 

You were surprised to say the least when a knock sounded on your apartment door early in the morning on Saturday, and even moreso when you opened to find none other than your adorable next door neighbor (and, in a way, your savior) standing in your doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans and a cute little crease in between his eyebrows as he looked up at you from where he was looking at his shoes. “Hey Bob, everything okay?” You ask, wiping the sweat away from your forehead. You had been doing an intense pilates session in your living room, a good way to keep you limber and fit for your job. “Are you going on deployment or something? Do you need me to take Cosie?”

“No, no..” Bob shakes his head, he felt stupid for coming over here, for not just immediately fessing up to his friends about his dumb lie. He should just turn around and go back to his apartment and call it a day, and he was going to until his fuckin’ phone buzzed in his pocket and he was reminded of why he had told the damn lie in the first place. “Um, actually, do you think I could come in? I have a favor to ask of you, and it’s..a big one.” 

You were confused but allowed him to come in nonetheless, shutting and locking the door behind him as he did. What could he possibly need from you that wasn’t watching his dog while he was away? You couldn’t say you weren’t keen to find out, you were bored out of your mind and you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed from you of all people. Bob had literally seen you at your worst last week, and yet here he was inside of your apartment with his hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his boot cut jeans, his pretty eyes flitting about, finding anything to look at that wasn’t your breasts that were pushed up in your slightly too small lulu lemon top. 

“What’s up, Bobby?” You asked, headed to your kitchen that over looked the living room. You grabbed a bottle of water out of your slowly emptying fridge and twisted open the cap, taking a hefty sip. 

“Um..” He says, his lips pursing as his eyebrows furrow together somehow even deeper. He blows air out of his nose and finally looks up at you, taking his hands out of his pockets only to place them on his hips, awkwardly. “I need you to be my girlfriend.” He says and you snort your water out of your nose on accident, choking on it at the first mention of the words as you tried to process them. “Oh fuck-” 

TAGLIST-

@mamachasesmayhem

[heartssatoru]

Hey! I love your HCs so far! If you do smut could you do JJK men wanting to have sex or are horny and how they go about asking you/initiating it? (Gojo, Megumi, Sukuna, and Itadori)

Yes of course! I know a lot of my readers request fluff so if you don't like smut im so sorry😭

Characters: gojo, megumi, sukuna, itadori

Warnings: smut smut smut!! Afab reader

I have a few request im working on, to all the others that requested! :)

Gojo

In public:

Starts off flirty but then becomes needy cause he's extremely horny

At a date

Slips up and tells you a dirty joke by accident. And does that little giggle

It maybe depends, because there's times where he thinks he can hold it but can't

Most of the time he hints it. If you don't get it then he'll say it shamelessly

Doesn't care if its in public or not. He just wants relief.

He kinda does care😭 but doesn't at the same time.

Bathroom, alley way, really whatever. Tries to make sure no ones really there though

Someone spots you two? Oh shit let him finish atleast

Tells you to just relax but it's extremely hard when his cock is pounding into you

If your hiding your moans then he'll make you either way. Cause that's just offensive to him

Will deny your organsm if you hide them too. So lesson learned

Megumi:

At home:

Tries to ignore it. But its too much to even ignore, wouldn't be surprised if you could notice

Prefers to hint because he feels embarrassed. No matter how much you tell him he doesn't need too.

You already know because that's always how he gets when he's horny

Doesn't want to risk being caught. And he always makes that clear.

Always at home no matter what. He can wait, maybe..

Excusing that, he skilled with his fingers, and always uses his fingers to prep you

He doesn't want to cause you pain. Really just pleasure for both of you.

Will be a little hard or deny your organsm if he's having a bad day. But still will let you cum

By the time he's done you guys will be fast asleep, but always makes sure you fall asleep first.

Sukuna

anywhere, literally doesn't care:

Will straight up tell you. Maybe if you don't take so long he'll actually be nice to you.

1% chance of that. But its better then nothing!

Will fuck you anywhere. Unlike gojo, he has nothing to worry about

Doesn't even care if anyone sees. They'll simply see how much of a slut you are for his cock

Said by him of course

Does it for his own pleasure, if he's feeling nice he'll let you cum

Also if you try and touch yourself then thats another reason why he shouldn't.

Abuses your poor cunt, especially with his size

Rough, but knows your limits. Maybe goes aganist them every one in awhile to see your fucked face

Cause it drives him near the edge even more.

Itadori

Feels guilty each time so he always tries to go on without anything

However if he's desperate will beg you to let him fuck you

Makes sure your comfortable and everything. Sweet as hell

But just because of that dont expect to not be teased

Will always let you cum though, unlike the others, besides megumi

Goes gentle, unless you want it hard he can do that. Just doesn't want to hurt you

Asks every once in awhile just to make sure your comfortable and everything

No matter how tired he is, will still try to clean you up afterwards

Gives you the best care. Would feel guilty once again, if he didn't

[juyeonszn]

REFLECTIONS

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.07k

GENRES smut lol

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, fawn writing about jacob bae yet again but i swear this time was necessary!!!, porn without plot but also if u squint there’s a little bit of plot, roommates/best friends with mutual pining, i mixed so many tropes in here tbh, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), mirror sex, soft? dom!jacob, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY the two times jacob bae derails your saturday night plans.

MORE FAWNTOBER DAY 2 IS A GOOOOO 😈 i’m actually doing pretty well timing wise and as far as im concerned, i’ll actually pull this thing off 😭 anyways.. enjoy!! pls remember to reblog if u liked what u read! and stay tuned for the rest of the fics coming out this month <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If it were up to you, you would just stay home for the evening. You’d kick your feet up into the ottoman and put on a random movie, latched onto Jacob’s side like a little leech. You were lucky your roommate was just as much of a cuddler as you were. It’d be kind of awkward if he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, your Saturday night plans would have to be postponed.

“It’s gonna be fun, N/N, I promise,” he tries to convince you, hands clasped together. “Sangyeon even said he’d pay your tab.”

“But I’m tired, Cobie,” you pout, knowing full well that your puppy dog eyes would always be his weakness, even if he’d never admit it to himself. “I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

He must’ve really been looking forward to going out and meeting up with the guys if not even your guilt-tripping face worked on him. He goes off on a tangent about how you always stay in, and despite loving that to an extent, sometimes he wants to enjoy a night out. You were still confused as to why he didn’t just go by himself. Why did he have to bring you along with him?

It’s not like you were dating or anything. You were just roommates. Really close roommates. Roommates who cuddled every other night. Roommates who often found themselves sleeping in the other’s bed rather than their own. Roommates who were so undeniably attracted to each other but masked it by pretending they weren’t.

Couldn’t you have been sucked into a different trope?

“I just think you’re not giving the idea enough credit,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, wouldn’t you feel left out? Wouldn’t you get major FOMO?”

You sigh. He had a point. Even if you didn’t really want to go clubbing, knowing all of your friends were there without you would make you sad. Imposter syndrome came way too easily for you. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.”

Jacob fist bumps the air, dragging you from the couch to your bedroom so you could start getting ready. He knows you take a while and the arranged meet up time was two hours from the current time. You move as quickly as you can, because even if you were only interested half heartedly, you didn’t want to be late. Especially because Jacob had a knack for constantly being punctual.

You kiss your teeth as you stare at your closet after you’ve finished showering and doing your hair and makeup. You felt like there was nothing good enough to wear. This wasn’t just a bar that you usually frequented, so you couldn’t dress casually. But it also wasn’t so fancy that you had to go over the top either. And for some reason, none of your clothes could fall into the perfect in-between category.

There was one dress.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, mostly because you never found the occasion to and it brought bad memories. It was a confidence booster, that was for sure. A tight black dress that stopped just below your ass and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. The moment you put it on, it’s like you’re a new person.

Staring back at you is someone you haven’t seen in a couple years, someone you shoved into the recesses of your subconscious. She used to party every night until she was black out drunk, making out and sleeping with random strangers until she was satisfied. She was stuck in a loop until she became friends with Jacob Bae, eventually moving in to get away from that lifestyle.

You never tell him how grateful you are. Part of you wishes to keep your past buried, hidden from the light of day so you never have to face your mistakes again. But at the same time, you could never tell him thank you enough. For saving you in a way, for helping you close that chapter of your life.

There’s a knock at your door, and you call out a “Come in” before your brain catches up with you. You make eye contact with Jacob in the mirror, watching his expression shift slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were anyone else, but you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Maybe better.

He walks up behind you, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a featherlight touch. “I haven’t seen this one on you in a long time.”

He’s so close to you, it’s kind of driving you crazy. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Should I wear it?”

His fingers start at your waist, trailing down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles skim across the bare skin of your exposed thigh, provoking your body to shudder. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” Jacob rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. “Seeing you in this is making me rethink going out tonight. Kinda wanna keep you here, all to myself, like that night at Hyunjae’s party.”

Okay, so perhaps you might’ve skipped a tiny detail in the retelling of your first encounter with Jacob Bae.

The reason you two became friends was because he actually happened to be one of those random strangers you slept with. It was a stroke of luck that you kept in contact with him after that night, considering he was supposed to be nothing more than a nameless face. But he was cute and he was funny, so when he asked to hang out a few days later you couldn’t help but cave in.

“Jacob…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “D-Don’t you wanna see the boys?”

His lips press to the juncture between your neck and collarbone, a soft kiss that already packs your head with cotton. He hums into your skin, hands bunching up your dress around your hips. Someone was impatient. “Not important. We can reschedule.”

You didn’t want to reschedule. You wanted to get out of this apartment, fully clothed, with an excuse to ignore the hammering of your heart in your rib cage and the fluttering down there. If you stayed here any longer, Jacob would successfully charm his way into your pants. (Dress?) And you didn’t want to think about the consequences that may come with.

But it’s not like he gives you much of a choice, invading your headspace with every nip and suck of your jugular and jaw. His slender fingers run a line down the front of your panties, a small groan leaving the back of his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. With heavy eyelids, you watch the entire thing in the mirror, lips parting with a gasp at the sight.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses in your ear, pulling you backward so the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still facing your mirror. “You want me just as bad don’t you?”

You whine, squirming as he dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, collecting your slick and smearing it all over your lower lips. He helps you shimmy out of your panties and dress, leaving you completely nude for him. His fingers resume their previous activities, easily pumping the ring and middle digits in and out of your cunt. His free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on his movements.

“Cobie,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider to give both of you a better view. “Feels so good…”

His thumb circles your clit, mouth beside your ear to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to you. Your toes curl at the same time his fingers do, brushing that sweet spot in your pussy. A strangled moan escapes you as you hit your climax, walls tightening around his fingers and back arching into his chest.

“That was so hot. You did so well for me,” he praises, thumb rubbing lazy patterns into your clit to bring you back down. “I just need you to do that on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, hands reaching behind yourself to free him from his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in your haste. “Need you inside of me already.”

You hope Jacob doesn’t have high expectations for you since you came so quickly with just his fingers. You’re not sure if he’s anticipating you to last longer with his cock. From what you remember, he wasn’t the longest, but he was definitely the thickest, and that’s what scared you the most. You were afraid of how full he’d make you feel.

Once the clothes from his bottom half are removed, you risk a glance at his dick in the mirror, your pussy clenching around nothing. Despite not knowing if you’d be able to take him without turning into a blubbering mess, you really wanted to try. You wanted him to fill you up like a plug in a bathtub drain.

He takes his girth in one hand, sliding his dick through your folds languidly, lubricating himself with the wetness of your cunt. He groans in your ear again, squeezing your hip to steel himself. “You ready for me?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, patience wearing thin. He chuckles before impaling you on his cock, both of you moaning from the feeling of one another. The stretch burns, but it’s fucking heavenly, your pussy feeling so stuffed you can barely think. (Not that your thoughts were coherent beforehand anyway.)

“You’re— oh god, Jacob— you’re s-so deep,” you mewl, hands supporting yourself on his thighs. “I feel so full.”

He keeps his grip on your waist, fucking up into you as slowly as he can as to not disrupt your adjustment to his cock. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, lips parted with a gasp every time he thrusts into your tight pussy. He shakes his head, urging you to stay upright.

“I need you to keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch me fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” Jacob commands, voice as deep as his dick inside of you.

You comply, hooded eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you take in the sight of him bouncing you on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, lip splitting from the force in which you’re biting it. He looks so hot, focused on getting you both to that peak you desperately need to reach.

It’s such a stark contrast to the sweet Jacob Bae you’re used to, this one pounding into you without mercy, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. That first time you had sex, years ago, was pretty vanilla thanks to you both having a little too much to drink that night. You don’t even think you remembered most of it. Had you known he was such a freak, maybe you wouldn’t have pretended your attraction to him was nonexistent. Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

You don’t dwell on that regret much longer, Jacob yanking your attention back in by rubbing your clit with his middle finger. The amount of overstimulation fogs your vision, voluminous, pornographic level moans reverberating around the room. The words bubbling past your lips don’t make any sense, reduced to babbling until an encouragement is uttered into your ear.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,”

A cry is ripped from your vocal cords, your body writhing above him and continuing even after he’s orgasmed inside of you, fucking his cum into your cunt as he calms you down. You whimper when he grasps your jaw once more, egging you on to stare at the mixture of your cum running down your legs.

You both look absolutely feral, skin sticky with sweat and chests heaving up and down as if you’d ran a marathon. Jacob makes no move to pull out, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, back and shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion rushes over you.

“I think you’re pretty close to succeeding in your mission,” you say hoarsely. “I can hardly function right now.”

He laughs, such a melodic sound it almost doesn’t belong in your current setting. “Yeah? Do you wanna help me pass it?”

And in spite of being on the brink of passing out, who are you to deny such a promising offer?

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[emmyc0z]

HII im a huge fan of ur writing and ur one of the few final fantasy writers on here thats active 😭😭 i was hoping i could request some zack fair fluff? like before the events of crisis core, maybe he accidentally gets himself sick during work and angeal knows he'll just keep showing up for work bc he wants the promotion to first class so bad, so he gets zacks childhood bestfriend (reader) to go keep an eye on him and make sure he actually rests lol. zack keeps insisting hes ok but reader is having none of it and takes care of him, which eventually leads to a confession bc zack doesnt understand why reader cares so much and it just leads to everything coming out. i hope that made sense lol this is my first request :) dont feel pressured to do this of course!!!

Since We Were Kids

pairing : zack fair x (female) reader

summary : zack is determined to reach first class. so much so that he will push through one of the most debilitating cold's he's ever had. angeal attempts to get him home, calling in zacks childhood best friend for help.

“Angeal! Come on! You know how important this is to me..” Zack lets out a pitiful whine, attempting to persuade his superior, before his whine turns into a horrific coughing fit. He doesn’t have to look up now that Angeal’s face has made no changes, he is stoic and his decision is final, Zack will not be staying for work this week. 

“You can take a week off.. Besides you're of no use to anybody with the state you're in. Go home, get some rest.”

“Fine..” 

“I mean it Zack..” 

“Yeah..yeah..i heard ya.” Zack crosses his arms, heavy sigh passing through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he walks away from where Angeal stands. He was barely sick..a little cough wasn’t gonna hold him back from becoming a first class SOLDIER.

Zack barely lasts 20 minutes away from his training before his sword is back in his hands. His constant coughing fits are feeling him with annoyance but he powers through them to continue swinging away with the chunk of metal in his hands. 

But why was he so tired? He usually had so much energy. Why was his sword so hard to carry? It never had been before.. 

And why did it feel like someone's hand was on his shoulder? “Zack!”

He jumps away when there is suddenly shouting coming from beside him, his head pounding in a way that wasn't noticeable until this moment, “Angeal! Hey pal..what’re you..uh..doing here?”

“What’re you doing here? I told you to go home.” 

“I can’t go home, this is too important, I’m not even that sick..” Even Zack’s faith in the statement is beginning to falter, especially when his eyes become blurry from the dizziness pooling at the front of his head. 

“Go home.” 

“No way!” Zack expects Angeal to disagree again but he doesn’t, he actually doesn't say anything, he just walks away. It’s so out of character that Zack debates just listening to him and leaving so he doesn’t get demoted, but he decides against it and continues to practice while sweat pools on his skin. 

It doesn’t take long for Angeal to return, Zack isn't worried when he hears his heavy footsteps from down the hallway, but he is unaware of the other pair of feet following close behind.

At this point, Zack is just staying for spite, his body is exhausted and he is barely swinging his sword, and his coughing fits are becoming more frequent to the point where he has to stop moving to take deep breaths. 

“Zack. Enough is enough. Your friend can take you home now.”

“Huh?” Zack turns and almost starts coughing again, but only because the breath hitches in his throat, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be seeing him like this. It’s pitiful, his inability to stay strong for training is embarrassing, and your gaze full of pity isn;t helping in the way it usually does. 

“She’s taking you home.” Zack opens his mouth to argue once more but Angeal has had enough, “No arguing. My decision is final, if I see you here again before I say you can return I will demote you myself, good luck reaching first class then..”

Zack looks defeated but he closes his mouth, and drops his sword with a loud clang, before trudging towards your side with his arms crossed tightly. His mannerisms make a giggle slip out of you, he looks like a child, but you quickly mask it as a cough when he shoots you a serious glare. Also reminiscent of a child but if you laughed again he might punch you. 

He isn’t happy about having to leave, especially being escorted out by a lady half his size, but he doesn’t make any complaints when you intertwine your arm in his to keep him stable. 

“I’m fine, y’know. I’m only going home because Angeal made me.” You nod along with him as he talks, hiding the disbelief running through your head. God was this kid stubborn, but it made you happy to know that his training hadn't changed the way he was when you were kids.  

“Zack, you need to rest..” 

“I need to reach first class.” 

“How do you expect to do that if you can’t even hold your sword up, dork.” His face scrunches up, but to your surprise he doesn’t pull his body away, he actually does the opposite and pulls your arm closer to his body. He’s using you to hold up a large amount of his body weight, but you allow him as long as he needs. 

When you finally reach Zack’s home, it takes more effort to get him into bed then you’d care to admit, he truly acts like a child insisting that he ‘doesn’t need to get any sleep because he feels perfectly fine’ followed by a coughing fit and him having to sit down because he feels dizzy. You promise him the soup that he likes if he gets into bed, to which he begrudgingly agrees to. 

After practically forcing food down his throat, he finally allows himself to be tired and his head falls back onto the pillows. You place a cold cloth on his forehead, after feeling it with your own hands and deciding that his fever might only be worsening. How’d he keep training while being this sick? 

You watch as he dozes off, you can tell he is trying to stay awake so he doesn’t fully admit that he is sick, but his body is taking over. He finally looks at peace, even though his hair is sticking to his forehead and his breathing is heavy, at least he’s getting some rest.

You plan on leaving, really you do, but you get so caught up in the image of him sleeping that you find your own eyes falling closed, head resting by his side against the bed. 

When your eyes open again it’s dark outside, you can’t tell how long you’ve been sitting with him but from the darkness pouring into the room, it’s longer then you meant for. You worry for a moment, worry that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that Zack got up hours ago to sleep away from you, but when you turn the lamp on beside his bed you find him in the same spot you’d left him. 

You’re greedy with how you look at him, you miss being so close to him. The proximity makes you realize how much you’ve missed him since he started his training, you hardly see him. And you wish the circumstances for finally seeing him again weren't because he was sick, and rather because he actually wanted to see you. But you’d take any time you could get with your best friend. 

He stirs suddenly and you let your hand fall on top of his, tangling your fingers in his, as a way to bring him some comfort in his sleep. His skin is warm and clammy, heating up your hands, it should be gross but the feeling of his hand in yours fills your stomach with a flurry of butterflies.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open and you can tell he is dazed, the way he scans the room to gather his surroundings before landing on you once more confirms your thoughts. 

“Y/n?” Zack’s voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat before he continues talking, “What’re you still doing here? How long have you been here?”

For a minute your heart pumps inside your chest faster than before, nervousness building in your stomach, “I’m sorry..I fell asleep a couple..hours ago I think. I didn’t want to leave right away in case you woke up again but I never meant to fall asleep.” 

“Why’re you apologizing..” His fingers, which you had forgotten were tangled in your own, tense against your skin and tighten their grip on your hand. 

“Sorry..” 

Your second apology causes him to let out a laugh. A laugh that immediately has him sitting up because he coughs so hard his lungs hurt, and he squeezes your hand tighter in his lap while he tries to catch a breath. 

When he finally catches a break, taking deep breaths while your hand slides up and down his back, he looks at you pitifully, “You’re gonna get sick..go home.” 

“You're crazy if you think I'm going home. I’m not leaving, who’s gonna take care of you?” 

“I can take care of myself, you know..”

“This is news to me.” You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out tiredly. He can’t even retort like he usually does. He doesn't have the energy to argue and tell you to leave so you don’t get sick, Zack isn’t even sure he wants you to leave anymore. 

“You don’t have to stay..” 

“I want to, Zack. I care about you.” You can’t tell if his cheeks were already flushed or if they suddenly became red as you spoke to him, but either way you were sure your face was mirroring his.  

He falls back onto the pillows, asking you quietly if you'll get him some water and another blanket before he gets the chills, and you happily oblige. Even while he’s sick, he is able to feel content and you’re happy to be the reason. 

Zack's fingers find your hand again, squeezing gently as you sit on the chair beside him, “..Training is kicking my ass.” 

“Yeah..but I’m sure it’ll be all worth it eventually,” You try not to let his spirits get down especially while he is in such a tired state, his training put on pause because of his sickness, and you ponder telling him more, “I miss you, you know..a lot.”

A small smile appears on his face, eyes puffy and bags under his eyes, and he looks towards you, “Yeah?” 

You can only nod, embarrassed by his lack of affirmation that he has felt the same over the months he’s been training. 

“I missed you too..” And the embarrassment flees from your body instantaneously, while his thumb rubs over the top of your knuckles. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, him playing with your knuckles as he tries to hold back the aggressive coughs that threaten to leave his mouth. His head is pounding, and he should feel like shit, but he truly can’t bring himself to when you're looking into his eyes all concerned and you’re letting him play with your hands with no complaints.

“Why’d you stay?” His voice startles you, and you try to pretend that you weren't staring at him and admiring every detail of his face. 

“I already told you..” You roll your eyes, letting out a huff before leaning on the palm of your hand, in all honesty you were ready to doze off while Zack looked around your hands and face. 

“No..no..why’d you stick around?” His question confuses you and you have to think about what he might mean and then it clicks. You hadn’t realized that he might be aware of how much time his training takes up. It hadn’t occurred to you that Zack could focus on anything but becoming first class.

He’d been neglecting your friendship, but when Angeal rang and asked you to pick Zack up you agreed without hesitation, you forgot instantly about how angry his schedule made you. 

You’re not sure how to answer him. You could tell him the truth, that you had been madly in love with your black haired friend since you were children.

Or you could continue to lie, and claim that you had only stayed around because of your long lasting friendship that had absolutely no underlying romantic feelings that neither one of you could talk about. 

“C’mon Zack..” 

He stares into your eyes, right through you. He knows, he already knows, you don’t have to say anything to him. As he looks at you, he's pleading with you to admit it to him and it makes your stomach crawl with nervousness. 

“Y’know I’d do anything for you..been like that since we were kids.” His eyebrows furrow at your attempt to dodge an admission that you hadn’t been prepared for an hour ago, you still weren't ready to admit to him that you were in love with him. 

“Y/n..do you love me?” 

Again silence fills the room and you’re unsure what to say to the expectant boy. You think, for a second, that he's joking. But his eyes are filled with such sincerity and genuine interest. He wants to know, and he doesn't seem to care if his question comes off bluntly.

When you don’t immediately respond he continues in your place, “Because I think I’m in love with you and I know I’d do anything for you. And I think you feel the same way. I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn't ignore Angeal’s call, and tell me to deal with this by myself. I know I haven't been around like I should be. But you’re here anyway..”

“Zack please..of course I do. Been like that since we were kids,” You smile softly, repeating yourself and look down at your entangled hands.

He doesn’t let that allow that for very long before he is grabbing your chin to turn your head to face him once more, “I’m not gonna kiss you, because I don't want you getting sick. But I promise you, as soon as this sickness is gone I’m gonna be all over you..” 

Even though his words, words you would've never expected to hear when you dragged him into his room just hours earlier, send a nervous shiver down your body you still find a way to tease him, “Careful Zack. Get too excited and your lungs might act up again.”

“Can I ask you to stay the night?” 

How could you ever say no. 

“Of course, Zack, anything for my first class SOLDIER.”