#this is why boys will always be so scary to me

[kxsagi]

hiii!!

could you write the blue lock boi eith the falling for you trend on tiktok, basically where the reader does trust falls of all a suddenly unexpectedly over a period of time

“𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲)”

a/n: okay i didn’t do any research on this trend before writing this so i am just going based off of the description in the request 😭i also made this on a discord call help

+ added a little twist where they end up falling for you (catching feelings) when you keep doing this over and over again

ft. isagi yoichi, chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

first time you do it, he SCREAMS. like full-on, “AAH?!” as you fall backwards into his arms. 

catches you though. always catches you. 

“you okay? are you hurt? why did you just –” 

it becomes a thing. once a week, randomly, you’ll fall and he’ll catch you like clockwork. 

starts getting nervous when a whole day passes without you doing it. 

at some point, realizes his heart beats faster every time, not from panic, but from you. 

finally breaks down and mumbles, “you know i’ve been falling, too… for you.” 

and then promptly wants to disappear for being so cheesy. 

chigiri hyoma

reflexes on point. he catches you effortlessly like a damn disney prince. 

but he’s annoyed. like… so annoyed. 

“can you stop doing that, what if i wasn’t ready?” 

still, you never hit the ground. 

catches you with one hand while texting, with an eye roll. 

until the fifth time or so, when he kinda just stares at you longer. 

“you really trust me that much?” 

you smile. “of course.” 

cue blushing. cue internal crisis. cue chigiri trying to act cool while absolutely melting. 

itoshi rin

you trust fall once. he lets you hit the floor. 

“don’t be an idiot.” 

… you keep doing it. 

he tries to pretend like he’s not aware. 

but his reaction time improves every time. 

and eventually, he just stands behind you at all times, quietly waiting. 

one day, you fall and land right in his arms and he just goes, “… you done now?” 

when you ask why he caught you this time, he mutters, “i didn’t want anyone else to.” 

nagi seishiro

the first time you fall on him, he’s too sleepy to react. 

“ow… what was that for?” 

next time, he’s ready. catches you but complains the whole time. 

“ugh… too much effort… can’t we just lie down already?” 

but then he starts enjoying it. 

catches you like a sloth on a tree, no energy, but all heart. 

one time you fall and he doesn’t even open his eyes. just lifts his arms. 

“took you long enough.” 

he’s falling too, but in slow motion. 

mikage reo

lives for it. like, yes. yes, fall into my arms. yes, trust me. 

makes it a competition. tries to surprise you with the reverse trust fall. 

“i gotchu baby, whoa wait no –” 

ends with both of you on the floor laughing. 

buys you one of those cute onesies just for the bit. 

but behind the playful act, he’s seriously touched. 

“you always trust me like this, huh?” 

says it like a joke, but the look in his eyes is anything but. 

he’s already head over heels. 

bachira meguru

you do it once, he does it twice. 

you fall backwards, he falls sideways, diagonally, upside-down. 

“we’re playing fall tag now!” 

he’s obsessed. makes it his mission to invent the dumbest ways to catch you. 

one time he somersaults into position. 

one time he piggybacks you as you fall. 

“meguru, this isn’t how it works.” 

“it is now.” 

calls it “falling for you: deluxe edition.” 

by the time you realize he’s serious, it’s too late. 

he’s already in love with you, and probably upside-down. 

karasu tabito

laughs so hard the first time you do it, he almost doesn’t catch you. 

“bro what are you doing? you wanna die?” 

starts predicting your falls with scary accuracy. 

“3… 2… 1, gotcha.” 

starts catching feelings somewhere between fall #4 and the day you didn’t fall at all. 

“hey… you didn’t try to fall today.” 

you tease him: “missed me that bad?” 

he doesn’t answer. just smirks and shrugs. 

he totally did. 

shidou ryusei

first time you fall, he screams louder than you. 

“YO WTF? damn that was hot. do it again.” 

starts looking forward to it like some weird game. 

“are we falling today or what, babe?” 

sometimes purposefully takes a step back just to see your face mid-fall– 

then dives to catch you at the last second. 

“your life’s in my hands. kinda sexy, huh?” 

one day he catches you a little too gently, arms around your waist for too long. 

“you’re falling for me, but jokes on you… i already hit the ground.” 

unfortunately, he means that in a romantic and deranged way. 

itoshi sae

you fall once. he doesn’t even flinch. 

“you’ll live.” 

except you don’t hit the ground. he catches you. grumbling. 

“why the hell would you do that?” 

you do it again. and again. and each time, he’s annoyed. 

but his arms are already there before you even start falling. 

one day you lean back without warning and he says, “stop doing that. i’m not always gonna catch you.” 

pause. 

“… except i always do.” 

looks away like nothing happened. 

but sir that was basically a proposal? 

kaiser michael

you trust fall on him once and he starts acting like you proposed. 

“i knew it. you’re obsessed with me.” 

is 100% ready to catch you anytime anywhere. 

you fall backwards and he twirls you like it’s a dance move. 

“falling for me already? understandable.” 

makes everything dramatic. roses. slow motion. violins (playing from his phone). 

starts leaning into you randomly too. 

“trust fall, but in reverse. now you catch me.” 

he flirts through every fall, but the way he holds you like you’re glass? 

yeah… he’s fallen. hard. 

ness alexis

panics. every time. 

“oh my gosh, are you okay? are you dizzy? were you about to faint?!” 

you: “ness, it’s a trend.” 

ness: “a… trend that gives me heart attacks???” 

catches you like a nervous golden retriever, limbs flailing, but always manages. 

eventually gets used to it… maybe. 

“okay okay, i’m ready this time–WAIT–don’t do it yet!! okay now!!” 

once it becomes routine, he starts smiling whenever you fall. 

softest “i got you” under his breath every time. 

until one day he whispers, “… i think i’ve been falling too.” 

and then immediately short circuits and hides behind a couch. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠����

[7ndipity]

Why They’re Still Single

Ot7

Summary: why I think the members are still single and when/if I think they’ll actually settle down

Warnings: swearing 

A/N: This is pure crack that was conjured up by me and @bethanysnow ‘s brains at like 3am, so don’t take it too seriously, lol.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: He's a romantic in theory, but in practice he’s really just not that comfortable with all the dynamics of relationships(lowkey gives asexual vibes imo) I could see him eventually marrying his assistant or one of his friends when they’re both in their 40s because they’re who they’re most comfortable with, and that’s what he values most in a relationship, comfort and friendship.

Yoongi: Boy has trust issues out the wazoo. He has a hard time believing anyone would actually want him, rather than what he can do for them. He also has an over tendency to intellectualize his feelings. If he learns how to properly process his emotions and finds someone who encourages him to actually communicate his needs, I could see him getting married pretty quickly.

Hobi: He spent so much of his twenties convincing himself and everyone else that he was way too busy for a relationship, but since he’s come back from military service, he’s fully embraced his fuckboy era. He could have girlfriends in multiple cities, but everyone’s on the same page and knows it’s non committal. I see him settling down eventually, but right now he’s just enjoying living his life.

Namjoon: Man has a textbook case of fear of commitment. He’s always been so drawn to domestic married life, but the reality of letting down his walls and actually letting someone in scares the shit out of him, so the majority of his relationships have fallen apart due to lack of communication and trust. I still see him getting married and having kids eventually, he just needs to find a good therapist first.

Jimin: He’s actually the member that’s secretly married and hosts monthly dinner parties at his house for everyone else and their partners. Fr tho, I think he has a highly idealized vision of what he thinks a relationship should be, and he refuses to settle for anything less, even though his vision might be slightly unrealistic. In the meantime, I think he’s content on his own for the time being, dreaming of the perfect partner.

Taehyung: The thing with Tae is that he is in love with the concept of love, but he also loves a tragic romance. He enjoys the drama and angst of yearning and longing for someone, or the tragic beauty of the relationship that he knows must inevitably end, like a summer fling or right person - wrong time. He’s also lowkey under the impression that no one will fully understand him, but if he can find that person who matches his energy, he will fall fast and hard.

Jungkook: Kook still sees himself as in his fuckboy era, but the truth of the matter is that he is a whole ass house husband, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. He could be in a fully committed relationship, practically living together, but still refuse to put a technical title on what they have because it’s less scary that way. Despite that, he loves playing the protective boyfriend(ain’t nobody fucking with his baby), and I think that’s what will eventually get him to own up and fully commit to the relationship.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

[pukefactory]

May we have some Sprout x Reader headcanons?

Love your writing btw!

Thank you kindly, Anon! Here are a few lighthearted headcanons about the berry boy!

-RUSH

‎♡‧₊˚✧ SHOW SOME LOVE ✧˚₊‧♡

𖦹 Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Sprout X Reader

𖦹 Character(s): Sprout Seedly (Dandy’s World)

𖦹 Genre: Headcanons, SFW

𖦹 Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

𖦹 Image Credits: @mellosno1fan

➸ He doesn’t call you by pet names. He refuses to. If you bring it up, he just gives you a look and goes, “What do you want me to call you, ‘Sugar Muffin’? ‘Darling?’ Gross.” But then he’ll make you strawberry tarts shaped like hearts and quietly say, “Baked fresh for you. Don’t read into it.”

➸ Sprout gets weirdly quiet when you’re hurt. Like, scary quiet. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t panic. He just picks you up—no argument—and gets you out of danger before muttering something like, “You’re not supposed to get hurt. Not on my watch. Not ever.” And if you try to laugh it off, he only looks more mad. “You think this is funny? You wanna see me fall apart? ‘Cause that’s what’ll happen if this happens again.”

➸ You once caught him hand-sewing a tiny scarf. When you asked who it was for, he panicked and threw a tray of muffins at you. Later, he muttered, “It was gonna be for your birthday. But now you know, so forget it. It’s dumb.” (He still gives it to you—tied around a jar of homemade jam with a little paper tag that says “Not Dumb.”)

➸ He’s overprotective in the way a fire alarm is loud. Not subtle. “Why’re you walking ahead of me? No, get back here—what if something jumps out at you?” “That’s oddly specific—” “Happened to Cosmo last week.”

➸ He denies having a soft spot for your voice. But every time you hum while baking, he slows down whatever he’s doing. Doesn’t say anything. Just listens. You catch him staring? He scoffs. “You’re off-key. It’s cute…”

➸ Sprout will never say “I love you” first. But he says things like: “Don’t go anywhere without telling me.” “I trust you more than I trust myself, which is saying a lot.” “If anything happened to you, I’d turn this whole world into a compost heap.”

➸ The first time you got upset in front of him, he panicked so hard he gave you his scarf. Literally just took it off and wrapped it around you like it could fix everything. Then mumbled, “Y’know, you wear it better anyway… you can keep it. Just don’t… cry. I hate it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

➸ He always asks “Are you okay?” Even if you’re fine. Even if you just tripped. Even if you just sighed. And when you finally asked why, he looked at you for a long time before saying, “Because if you weren’t… I don’t think I’d be able to fix it. But I’d try. I’d really, really try.”

➸ He has a whole section in his recipe book labeled “Favorites (for my love only).” Vee found it once and teased him. Sprout nearly threw the entire oven at her. “Back off, Vee, or I’m pouring water in your microphone. Again.”

➸ Sometimes he just… stares at you. Like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out but also doesn’t want to ruin. “What?” “…Just wondering how I ended up with someone who makes me want to remember to turn the oven off.”

[lavenderdropp]

HOW TO BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND

Characters: Michikatsu Tsugikuni x Female! Reader [slight Muzan x reader under cut]

Synopsis: In which, Michikatsu Tsugikuni tries to be a better boyfriend for her.

[Author's Note] : This is going to be a small fic— a small continuation idea that is taken from one of @echantedtoon ‘s oneshots called 'Presidential Vise' from her book 'Demon Slayer Posts', which I had requested her to write a long time ago. ^^

It may not be well written— I had only decided to write it because I felt like doing so. It's mostly for fun. So please do not criticise.

Also, Michikatsu may seem a bit out of character because in this book he's 18. His personality would be affected by his teenage— he would be acting like a teenager.

Enjoy!

"SCHOOL IS DISMISSED— YOU MAY LEAVE." The announcement followed right after the bell. It was truly a pleasant thing to hear after surviving an entire lecture of history. The dismissal from the school was something that the students always look forward to— and they didn't need to be told twice to leave.

A smile graced your lips as the final bell rang—school was finally over. Good grief, it had felt endless. You were certain that if you'd had to hear one more word about the French Revolution, you might've had a stroke. You quickly gathered your stationery and slid it neatly back into your bag.

Wearing your bag over your shoulders, you made your way out of the classroom. You couldn't wait to get back home and lay down on your soft, comfortable, and warm bed—

"[Name]-san! Would you like to join us? We're going to try the new café near the bus stop!"

Alas, your daydreaming was interrupted by your fellow classmate, Hiroshi Kusukabe. The said raven-haired boy was a bright individual, known for his warm and welcoming attitude—which was truly refreshing, especially when most of the students were too afraid to even talk to you. Truly, a ball of sunshine.

But wait, did he actually just invite you to hang out?

The poor guy must've noticed how lonely you looked and decided to let you to tag along—despite the looks he was getting from his mates. What an angel! You could practically see a halo above his head.

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree. Maybe bed can wait.

Dear God, thank you!

This was too good to be true! You could finally make some friends and—

"I apologise but she won't be joining you. I am walking her home."

Ah, you should've expected that.

A sigh slipped out past your lips upon hearing the oh-so-familiar voice of your boyfriend, as he appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, beside you. There goes your golden opportunity to make some new friends. You felt like breaking down right there.

You looked up, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Dear God, why?

"Oh..well then..excuse—"

Before Hiroshi could even say anything further you were dragged away, quite literally, by Michikatsu Tsugikuni— aka the school vice president of the student body, and also your boyfriend. His hold on your hand was as firm as ever, as he pushed past the other ungraduates to make some room for both of you.

Your boyfriend is known for being an infuriatingly silent, intimidatingly solemn and irritatingly irresponsive individual, whom you couldn't help but relate to a cold winter morning— practically freezing.

He had a scary reputation in the school. And you weren't surprised. This guy could be intimidating, especially when he is helping you with your math homework. You'd rather attend those boring lectures of history twenty four hours straight than studying math with him. Too bad, you were neighbours with him— the said aloof teenager lived next door. That meant you would end up doing your homework and study with him, even if you wished not to do so sometimes.

He insists that you should have a study session with him— since you sucked at maths. Don't get me wrong, you do pretty well with other subjects. But it seems like your head stops functioning once it comes to maths.

You remember that one time you pretended to be sick to save yourself from the terrible study session with your tutor of a boyfriend, and he somehow managed to figure out that you were just pretending to be sick.

Well, your cover was blown and let's just say your hands felt like falling apart once he was done with making you solve mathematical problems. Not to mention, he bonked your head with a folded newspaper every time you got the wrong answer.

You’d consider doing math with your father instead of Michikatsu.

Ever since you’ve moved in here, in this new city, things have not been easy for you— transferring schools, having two guys holding the highest ranks in the student body swooning over you, actually ending up falling for one of them and ended up being girlfriend— which also led to the other students being too frightened to be friends with you.

"Stop glaring draggers at me." That made you roll your eyes at the burgundy haired male. The audacity he had to say that after absolutely destroying your opportunity to finally make some friend without them running away— literally.

You scoffed, which made him look at you, his eyes betraying a hint of annoyance behind the curtain of his spectacles. "Then stop taking the away every single chance I get to make a friend!" you retorted.

He looked away from your stupidly adorable pouting face, fixing his spectacles with his free hand. "You have me." came the murmur from him.

"But that's not enough! I literally have no one else to talk to at school!"

"You have..Yoriichi too."

"Michikatsu..!"

The said vice president ignored you— which made you want to throw your bag at his stupid head. Stopping by the shoe locker, you both slipped out of the school slippers and put on your respective shoes.

You were used to the looks that you were receiving from your peers and underclassmen whenever you and your boyfriend pushed past them. But, nevertheless, it was embarrassing.

"We've talked about pushing past crowd." That earned you no response, much to your frustration. "And holding my books without even asking me—when I'm done with attending my lectures." As you both stepped out of the school grounds, you were immediately greeted by the ever so lively city road.

"Yes, we have." from him was brief.

His lack of response has always bothered you and so has his overprotectiveness. He is too possessive for his own good sometimes. And it made you feel stuck.

You wished the he could be just a little more..open.

But he wasn't. You did not even feel like he was trying to be better. Does he not realise it? Or does it not bother him?

It was definitely the later.

The setting sun drowned the world into the warm hues, and it seemed to bring out your inner conflict as you glanced away from him and stare blankly at the ground beneath your feet. The dying glow of the sun, who was slowly slipping into the deep slumber of night beneath the horizon, seemed to plant a seed of melancholy in your heart.

Step. Step. Step.

Have you made a mistake—

Whoosh!

You stumbled upon your step as the tight grip of Michikatsu's hand, on your yours, pulled you back, saving you from nearly getting hit by a car. A gasp left your throat, eyes wide as you snapped out of it.

"Be careful of where you step." His eyes narrowed, his hold tightening on your hand as you both waited for the signal to go green. "Or would you prefer lying on the hospital for a month?"

"..I-I am sorry."

————————————————————————————

The ringing of bell indicated the end of another day of suffering. The classroom was filled with the chatter of ungraduates, who were enthusiastic to go back home. However, this usual bustle felt like a distant hum to you.

Last night, you pondered about Michikatsu.

About you both.

The relationship.

And his attitude, which he was unwilling to change.

It was weighing you down— as if you were chained. Your peers refuse to talk to you out of the fright. You felt so lonely. And Michikatsu too is so closed off, it did not help at all.

It hurts you. You ended up catching feelings for the aloof, solemn and stoic vice president of the Kizuki High. You thought understood you him. You were aware that it's just who he is— very reserved, overly protective, but he cares..right? You were sure that it will get better with time, that it would pass, he'll open up to you eventually, try to understand you and learn to trust you.

But it seems like you were wrong.

No matter how many times you try talking about it, try to make him understand, it seems like you were talking to a wall.

Sliding your bag over your shoulders, you made your way out of your classroom. Perhaps, you should try again—

Bump!

You blinked, startled.

You spaced out again, didn't you?

You were now facing a solid chest, that you had collided into. Dragging your gaze up, you were met with the familiar pair of maroon hues, curtained by spectacles.

"You really need to be more conscious about where you are walking." Came out the murmur from your boyfriend, followed by his hand suddenly gripping yours.

"Hello to you as well." You mumbled, being guided through the hallway by Michikatsu. You matched his pace, falling into the steps beside him. You couldn't help but stare at his profile.

Should you try talking again?

Would it be worth it?

Haven't you tried it again and again multiple times already?

Would—

"You are staring." You looked away from the taller male as his voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Gaze now focused on your feet, you couldn't help but notice that your pace was still not synchronised with his.

You did not notice the burgundy haired male staring at you from the corner of his eyes, his gaze calculative.

"What is bothering you?"

You swallowed a lump down your throat.

You glanced around, meeting the gazes of the students around you. They were there, like usual—intimidated—by him. But today seemed oddly judgmental. Or was it just you?

It was eating away at you. The weight on your chest felt heavier than ever.

You were exhausted. You needed a break.

"Yeah..no, I just feel a bit unwell."

It came out of your mouth hesitantly.

You felt the back of his hand press against your forehead almost suddenly. You couldn't help but blink in question as you lifted your gaze to meet his, which seemed to betray a hint of worry, a slight crease between his eye brows and a frown tugging on his lips.

"You don't seem to be running a fever." He retreated his hand.

You pulled away from him gently, letting your hand fall free from his as you slipped into your shoes by the lockers.

"You can't trick me into believing that you are sick. We are not skipping the study session."

You decided not to reply.

The setting sun's dying rays of the summer evening were the first to kiss your face as you both stepped out of the school building. Yet, they still seemed warm enough. You were never the one to dislike the summers or the harsh lightings of the said seasons. It was quite the opposite actually.

Though, today, it felt like a bother.

Everything did.

Step. Step. Step.

"Michikatsu."

Halt.

As you paused in your tracks, so did he. You lifted your gaze to meet his, glowing dimly under the evening hues. The noise of the world around you faded into a distant hum.

"I..think..I need a break."

————————————————————————————

The sound of the entrance door opening and then clicking shut made the woman cooking in the kitchen smile. Ah, there he was. He'd been coming home later than usual. From what Yoriichi had told her, he'd been walking their neighbour's girl home—the one he'd been having study sessions with.

This almost made her chuckle. It was very unlike Michikatsu to spend this much time with someone. She wondered if it was—

"I'm home, Mother."

She made her way out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. A welcoming smile made its way to her lips, gracing her features.

"Good evening, Mi-chan. How was your day at school—"

"I'll be in my room, Mother."

Akeno watched as her son made his way upstairs. A frown tugged at her features as she stood there, bewildered, wondering what was wrong with her child.

Meanwhile, Michikatsu had reached his room. He shut the door behind him as he entered, then threw his bag onto the nearby chair—uncharacteristically so. Slowly making his way towards his bed, he finally sat down, not bothering to slip out of his uniform yet.

It did not sit well with him.

Where did he go wrong?

Was this actually his fault?

No, it couldn't be—

A sigh slipped past his lips, hand running through his burgundy locks before he took his glasses off. At first, he felt a surge of anger boiling up to the surface— mixed with his conflicted thoughts.

He took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself down. He needed to think clearly.

He exhaled, closing his eyes.

It was his fault indeed.

Michikatsu is aware that he can be difficult at times. This relationship..it was a foreign territory for him.

He remained seated. His mind replaying her words again and again like a broken record.

"You never listen..You don't try to be better—no matter how many times I've tried to talk. You..feel too distant at times and..the other moment you are too protective. No body talks to me. I don't have any friends. They all seem too scared and judgemental towards me. One person finally tried to befriend me and you scared him away as well."

"I try to understand you, always. But I fail— because you are not letting me in...you are not letting me have a say in it and I'm tired."

"I need a break..from us. From you."

Was he too much?

Perhaps so.

What should he do?

Should he try talking?

He opened his eyes.

No. It wasn't the best option. Not right now. He should give her some time.

Yes, she needed it.

Yet, he couldn't help the clawing ache in his chest and the fogginess in his mind. Maroon eyes stared aimlessly into the void before drifting towards his hands.

He closed his eyes shut again.

Was it okay to say that..he missed her already?

No. Shut up. You are not that weak.

Yet, all he could think about was her. Her smile, her voice, her touch—Eyelids opened to reveal the hues of maroon, glowing dimly in the dark room.

He couldn't afford to lose her.

She chose him.

She fell for him.

She..tried to be with him.

And he had to mess it up.

He needed to fix this mess.

Slowly but surely.

But what should he do?

A frown tugged at his lips, a low groan escaping his throat. His usually composed facade slowly slipped away.

He felt frustrated—lost.

With a sigh, he slowly reached towards his phone. Turning it on, he was met with his wallpaper— a pic of him and her. She had insisted to click this picture. And even though he was pretty reluctant to do so, he gave in.

And he didn't regret doing so.

Unlocking the device, he went to a certain application to look for his answers. He tapped on the search bar, then typed in his question.

How to be a good boyfriend?

Numbers of websites opened before him. He decided to click on the first one.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Showing results..

Key aspects of being a good boyfriend are:

—> Communication:

Honesty, open dialogue, and active listening are crucial for a healthy relationship.

—>Respect:

Respecting your partner's boundaries, opinions, and personal space is fundamental.

—>Support:

Being emotionally available, offering encouragement, and celebrating their successes are important.

—>Quality Time:

Prioritizing time together and making an effort to connect, even amidst busy schedules, is vital.

—>Vulnerability:

Sharing your thoughts and feelings, and being open about your vulnerabilities can create a deeper emotional connection.

—>Shared Responsibilities:

Equally sharing emotional labor can foster a balanced partnership.

He has to work a lot.

[girlivealwaysbean]

on one hand completely ignoring your emotions is soo good for my mental stability and productivity but man i miss staring at the ceiling and listening to sad songs on loop

[inkats]

is it autism or is it a symptom of previous longterm social isolation and lack of agency ?

[frankotalk]

honestly love robots so much especially as a trans guy bc of the sort of customisability and gender neutrality offered to robots. a lot of the ppl who voted robot on that poll seem to be hung up on the non-human element which is scary but the way i see it a robot can be lovingly crafted the way a child is born. especially when you aren't religious so the here and now means more to me than any concept of a soul. robots still have their own identity and even if they aren't 'human' they still feel... something. even if its programmed. our brains and environments essentially program us to feel specific ways so why get hung up on that as a robot. ROBOT CLONES HOWEVER

[queer-ecopunk]

So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.

This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,

"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."

I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.

"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."

And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.

"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."

Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.

"But you look good. So, eh!"

And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.

George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.

[honeyvenommusic]

.

[inseobts]

Idk if u do request but can you do Scary reader x One piece men? Law, Shanks, Sabo, Ace, Croc, The monster trio & whoever else you want! Basically the reader is really scary but {{char}} finds their scariness attractive.

Attractive Scariness

a/n: sorry but at some point I got out of ideas lmao

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace, shanks, sabo and crocodile

words count: around 0.4k - 0.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You’re used to fear.

The wide eyes, the shaky hands, the people stumbling over themselves to get away, etc. It’s always the same. Ever since you ate your Devil Fruit, people have called you a monster. Even when you’re not fighting, your presence alone makes people nervous.

So when you land on this island and step into a small village, you already expect the usual reaction.

And you get it.

The streets clear as soon as you walk in. The market stalls empty. Even the shopkeepers pretend not to see you.

You sigh.

“Again?” you mutter “I just want some food…”

You’re about to turn around when someone doesn’t run. A boy in a red vest and a straw hat stands right in front of you, grinning like he doesn’t even notice how scary you are.

No. He notices. He just doesn’t care.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, eyes shining “You’re super strong, huh?”

You blink “What?”

“I can tell!” He nods, completely sure of himself “Strong people have this feeling about them. And you feel really strong!”

You stare at him. That’s… new. No “stay away from me” or “please don’t kill me.” Just pure excitement.

Luffy tilts his head “What’s your power?”

You hesitate. Usually, this is the part where people scream. But he’s looking at you like a kid waiting for a magic trick.

You raise your hand. A shadow swirls around your fingers, shifting like smoke. The air around you grows heavy, dark, unnatural.

Luffy gasps.

“That’s so cool!”

“…Huh?”

“You can control shadows? Or darkness? Or... wait, is it nightmares?” He’s practically bouncing “Can you do giant shadow hands? Or make yourself super big? Or—”

You blink at him “You’re… not scared?”

Luffy grins wider “Why would I be? You’re awesome!”

This has never happened before. Ever. You don’t know what to do.

Then Luffy grabs your wrist “Hey, join my crew!”

Your brain short-circuits “What?”

“I’m Luffy! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, and I need strong people on my crew. And you’re really strong!”

You open your mouth, then close it. You look at him, at his bright, careless smile, at the way he’s just standing there, holding onto your wrist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like you’re just a person.

Not a monster.

“…You’re weird” you say.

Luffy laughs “People tell me that a lot.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in forever, you smile.

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll join you.”

Luffy cheers, throwing his fists in the air “Yes! This is gonna be awesome!”

You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for. But for once, you don’t feel like a nightmare.

You just feel like you.

Years have passed since you met Luffy. Since he grabbed your wrist, called you strong, and changed your life without even trying.

Back then, you weren’t sure what you were getting into. Now, you know.

Being with Luffy means chaos. It means waking up to find him hanging upside down from the ship’s mast, laughing like it’s normal. It means fighting beside him, watching him charge straight at danger without fear—because he trusts you to have his back.

It means love.

A love that is loud and wild, but also simple. Easy. Because Luffy has never been afraid of you. Not then, not now.

Right now, you’re on an island, sitting in the shade while the crew runs around. The villagers are keeping their distance, just like always. Even after all these years, people still fear you.

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because across the field, Luffy is waving at you, smiling so wide it makes your chest feel warm. He doesn’t care that people avoid you. He doesn’t care that you’re “scary”, to him, you’re just you.

He runs over, plopping down next to you with a grin “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise an eyebrow “Sitting.”

Luffy gasps dramatically “No way. That’s crazy.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. He just laughs, leaning against you without a care in the world.

For a while, you sit there together. The sun is warm, the breeze is nice, and Luffy is… Luffy. He hums a little song under his breath, playing with your fingers like he’s fascinated by them.

Then, he says “You know, you’re kinda scary.”

You pause “Oh?”

He nods “Yeah. Like, super scary. When you fight, people freak out. Even Zoro said you’re the last person he’d wanna fight seriously.”

You wait for the usual words to follow. Monster. Freak. Too much.

But instead, Luffy grins and squeezes your hand.

“I love it.”

Your heart stops for a second.

Luffy keeps talking, like he hasn’t just turned your entire world upside down “It’s awesome! You’re so strong, and you do that cool shadowy thing, and when you get serious, even the bad guys look like they’re gonna cry.” He laughs, eyes shining “It’s really cool.”

You don’t answer right away. Because what is there to say?

For so long, your power was a curse. Something that made you different. Something that made you alone.

But here, with Luffy, it’s just another part of you.

“…You’re an idiot” you mumble, looking away.

Luffy laughs “Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes “Unfortunately.”

He gasps “What?!”

You shove his face away, and he just laughs harder, wrapping his arms around you like an octopus. He clings to you, laughing and warm, and you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

But the truth is, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Because you are strong. And scary. And Luffy loves it.

And that is more than enough.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knows strength when he sees it.

He can sense it in the way people move, in the way they breathe. Some fighters hesitate, some carry doubt, but you don’t.

From the moment he meets you, he can tell. You don’t just fight. You hunt. And for some reason, he can’t take his eyes off you.

It starts on an island known for its warriors. The crew stops to rest, but Zoro wants a challenge. A real fight. So when he hears rumors of a swordsfighter so deadly that even bounty hunters avoid them, he doesn’t hesitate.

But when he finds you, it’s not what he expects.

You’re not some old master or a towering brute. You’re just… you. Sitting under a tree, sharpening your blade like you have all the time in the world.

Zoro stops a few feet away, arms crossed “You’re the one they’re all scared of?”

You glance up. Your eyes are sharp, your aura heavy, and for a second, it’s like the temperature drops.

Zoro grins. Oh, yeah. This is gonna be good.

You sigh, standing up “You here to fight me too?”

He smirks “Yeah. Unless you’re scared.”

Something flickers in your gaze, something dark and dangerous. Then you smile, slow and sharp “You’ll regret that.”

And then you move.

It happens fast. One second, you’re standing still. The next, your own blade is inches from his neck. Zoro barely blocks in time, his instincts the only thing keeping his head attached.

His blood rushes.

You don’t fight like normal swordsfighters. Your movements are smooth, calculated, but there’s something more. Something predatory.

Zoro grins “Not bad.”

You tilt your head “Not bad?”

And then you attack for real.

The clash of steel echoes through the trees. Zoro meets each strike, but he can feel the difference in the way you fight. You don’t waste movement. You don’t test him. You go straight for the kill.

Most people would find that terrifying.

Zoro finds it hot as hell.

His smirk widens “You don’t hold back, huh?”

You don’t answer, but there’s something in your eyes... curiosity, maybe. Like you’re testing him.

Good. He likes a challenge.

The fight goes on, fast and brutal, but in the end, neither of you go all out. It’s just a taste, a promise of something more. When you finally lower your blade, Zoro does the same.

You study him for a moment, then nod “You’re not bad either.”

Zoro huffs a laugh “High praise.”

You sheath your sword and turn away “I’m going back to town. You coming or what?”

He watches you go, smirking to himself.

Yeah. He’s definitely interested.

Years Later – Zoro should probably be concerned that his partner is one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met.

But he’s not.

In fact, it just makes him like you more.

Right now, you’re standing on the deck of the Sunny, staring down a group of bounty hunters dumb enough to challenge you. You haven’t even drawn your sword yet, but the way you look at them, sharp, unreadable, deadly, makes them hesitate.

Zoro leans against the railing, watching with amusement. He already knows how this will go.

One of the bounty hunters shifts nervously “Y-you gonna fight or what?”

You tilt your head, smiling faintly “You first.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then they charge. Big mistake.

Zoro watches as you dodge effortlessly, your blade a blur. The fight lasts seconds. By the time you sheath your sword, your opponents are on the ground, groaning in pain.

Silence. Then, Luffy cheers from the mast “That was awesome!”

Zoro smirks. Damn right it was.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow “You just gonna watch?”

He shrugs with a smirk “I was enjoying watching... and didn’t wanna get in your way.”

You walk over, stopping in front of him “You’re getting lazy.”

He scoffs “Oh yeah?”

You lean in, voice low “Yeah. Maybe I should fight you next.”

Zoro feels a familiar rush of excitement. His hand twitches toward his swords “You sure you can keep up?”

You smirk “Try me.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lost in you, in the fight, in the thrill of having someone who meets him blow for blow.

You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And stronger than hell.

And he wouldn’t have you any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has seen all kinds of people. Beautiful women, powerful warriors, even actual monsters. But he’s never met anyone like you.

You meet in a quiet, dimly lit tavern. The crew stops for a meal, and Sanji, always on the lookout for interesting faces, notices you immediately.

You sit in the darkest corner, barely touching your drink. Your posture is relaxed, but there’s something wrong about it, like you could strike at any moment. The air around you feels heavy.

People glance at you and quickly look away. A group of bounty hunters at a nearby table seem tense, whispering among themselves.

Sanji watches as one of them inches toward the door. His hands are shaking.

That’s when he realizes, they’re afraid of you. A lot.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Interesting.

“Hey cook, what are you doing there, standing like an idiot.” Zoro says while they all sit at a table.

He’s about to turn back to his crew and reply to that marimo when the bartender makes a mistake and accidentally spills a drink on your sleeve.

The entire tavern stops breathing.

The bartender goes pale “I—I’m so sorry—”

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. Just slowly, carefully, you pick up a napkin and wipe your sleeve.

The silence stretches.

Sanji almost laughs at how scared everyone looks. What, do they think you’re gonna kill him for a drink spill?

The bartender swallows “Please, let me—”

“It’s fine” you say.

Your voice is quiet. Smooth. Too calm.

The bartender flinches anyway.

Sanji watches as you set the napkin down, push your drink away, and stand. You turn toward the door, and the crowd parts around you, everyone desperate to get out of your way.

Sanji, curious as hell, does the exact opposite.

He steps into your path, smiling “Leaving so soon?”

You stop and lift your gaze, as everyone there gasps.

Most people can’t meet Sanji’s eyes for long. His confidence, his sharpness, it makes them squirm. But you?

You stare right through him.

For the first time in a long time, Sanji feels his heart skip.

“…Who are you?” he asks.

You tilt your head slightly “Does it matter?”

That voice. Calm. Slow. Like a knife dragging against silk.

Sanji exhales smoke, smirking “I’d like to think so.”

You study him. And for some reason, he feels like he’s the one being hunted.

Then you smile, small, unreadable “See you around… cook.”

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sanji stands there, heart pounding as he thinks, oh, I’m in trouble.

Years Later – Sanji likes to think he doesn’t scare easy. He’s faced warlords, monsters, and the wrath of Nami’s fist.

But nothing terrifies him more than the way you just appear.

“Sanji.”

“GAH—!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the plate he’s holding. You’re suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.

He clutches his chest “How do you do that?!”

You blink “Do what?”

“That!” He gestures at you wildly “I didn’t hear you at all! You just—just materialized!”

You tilt your head, amused “I walked in.”

“No, you haunted in.”

You hum in thought “Maybe you should pay more attention.”

Sanji groans, running a hand through his hair “You’re gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t be much fun,” you say, smirking slightly “I’d miss this.”

Sanji pauses. Then, with a slow, dramatic sigh, he pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen at first, but he’s patient. He knows you’re not used to softness.

When you relax, he kisses the top of your head “You’re cruel, y’know that?”

“Am I?”

“You make my heart stop every damn day.”

You smile against his chest “Good.”

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law prides himself on being composed. No matter the situation, he never loses control.

But then he meets you, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something close to unease.

It happens on a stormy night. The Heart Pirates dock at a quiet island, and Law sets off alone, drawn by rumors of a dangerous individual hiding in town. Some say you’re a ghost, others call you a demon.

He doesn’t believe in superstition. But he believes in threats.

So when he finds you in the ruins outside of town, standing perfectly still, eyes dark and unreadable, he watches you carefully.

“You’ve been causing trouble” he says, testing your reaction.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. The wind howls through the ruins, but you remain as still as a statue.

Most people shift under his gaze. But you? You don’t even blink.

Law narrows his eyes “Who are you?”

Finally, you tilt your head “You already know, don’t you?”

Your voice is calm. Steady. Wrong.

It reminds him of the quiet before a scalpel slices skin.

Law tightens his grip on Kikoku “What’s your ability?”

You step forward, and the ground cracks beneath your foot. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision, stretching unnaturally.

“Does it matter?” you ask.

Law doesn’t flinch. But something deep in his chest tightens.

Because he knows that feeling. The quiet hum of danger.

And yet, instead of fear, he feels something else. Intrigue. He's actually really attracted and he can't deny it.

It takes Law a while to notice. To really notice.

Because you’re fearless in battle. You fight like a force of nature, silent and merciless, the kind of presence that makes enemies pray they don’t cross your path. You don’t just win fights, you end them.

And yet, when you’re with the crew, you’re… different.

Law catches it in small moments.

The way you ruffle Bepo’s fur when you think no one’s looking. The way you always make sure Penguin and Shachi get extra food after a long day. The way you quietly fix things around the ship before anyone else notices they’re broken.

And he feels it most with him. Like when you sit beside him in the submarine’s dimly lit halls, comfortable in silence, just existing next to him without expectation. Or when you lean against him after a rough mission, exhaustion making you a little softer, a little less guarded.

Or, most obviously, when you think he’s asleep.

He catches you once, fingers brushing against his hair, barely there, like you’re memorizing the shape of him.

He should say something. Call you out. But he doesn’t.

Because for some reason, the realization that the person who terrifies even seasoned killers, is so unbelievably gentle with him?

It does something to him.

Something dangerous.

Years Later – Being in a relationship with you comes with some complications.

Like right now.

“Sit still, damn it” Law mutters, pressing bandages against your side.

You sigh “It’s just a scratch.”

Law glares at you “It’s a stab wound.”

You shrug “Same thing.”

He clenches his jaw, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him “I swear, you are the worst patient I’ve ever had.”

You smirk “And yet, I’m still your favorite.”

Law groans, but he doesn’t deny it.

Because despite everything, your terrifying strength, your eerie presence, your complete disregard for injuries, he can’t help but be drawn to you.

You are the only person who unsettles him. And somehow, you’ve also become the one person he trusts the most.

He huffs, finishing the bandages “Try not to die.”

You grin, leaning in “Worried about me, doctor?”

“Tch” He flicks your forehead “Shut up.”

And despite himself, he smiles.

The next time you get hurt, Law doesn’t even bother hiding his frustration.

“You’re reckless,” he mutters, tightening the bandage around your arm “One of these days, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You watch him, amused “Would you miss me?”

He scowls “Shut up”

You smirk “You would.”

Law clicks his tongue, looking away. He hates how smug you sound. Hates it even more because you’re right.

Instead of answering, he sighs, finishing the bandage. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses a hand against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re lucky I like you” he mutters.

For the first time, you freeze.

Then, slowly, you smile. And Law knows he’s in so much trouble.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

On a nameless island, a pit stop for pirates and criminals alike, Ace hears the rumors first, stories about a lone warrior, someone so deadly that even bounty hunters won’t go near them.

He thinks it sounds like fun.

So when he walks into a bar and sees everyone stiffening at the mere sight of someone sitting in the corner, he knows he’s found you.

You sit alone, idly spinning a knife between your fingers. Your expression is calm, unreadable, but the tension in the room is thick.

Ace grins, making his way over “Mind if I sit?”

You don’t look up “Do what you want.”

He plops down across from you, resting his chin in his hand “Y’know, people are real scared of you.”

Silence.

Ace watches you carefully. You don’t move like a normal fighter. There’s something off about the way you breathe, the way your presence lingers like a shadow stretching too far.

It should probably freak him out.

Instead, it makes his blood rush.

“So,” he continues, smirking “What’s your deal? You a bounty hunter? Are you here to fight?”

You finally meet his eyes. Your gaze is sharp, calculating, like you’re dissecting him without lifting a finger.

"I was just curious who everyone was talking about, turns out it was you."

“…You’re not scared of me?”

Ace grins wider “Should I be?”

The knife in your hand stops spinning and or a split second, the air feels heavy.

Then, slowly, you smirk “Maybe? You tell me. That's what you came here for, isn't it?”

Ace laughs. Loud, bright, genuine.

And just like that, he decides that he actually finds you very attractive, and isn't letting you go so easily.

Years Later – Ace still remembers the first time he saw you fight.

He has always been the kind of guy who laughs in the face of danger.

He doesn’t hesitate to charge into battle, doesn’t flinch at the thought of death. He’s faced warlords, marines, even entire armies.

But when he saw you fighting? For the first time in his life, he felt like prey, even if you weren't fighting him.

How you moved like a phantom, striking fast, silent, merciless. How your enemies barely had time to scream before they hit the ground.

Everyone calls you terrifying. A monster. A nightmare in a human form.

And yet, right now, curled up against him, grumbling sleepily as he wraps his arms around you Ace can’t help but laugh.

You groan “What? You going crazy now?”

“You,” he teases, resting his chin on top of your head “You’re supposed to be the scariest person alive, but look at you.”

You swat at his chest “Shut up.”

Ace just grins, pulling you closer “Nah. I like reminding you.”

"You're always so annoying..." you say turning to not let him see you blush.

Because despite the way you fight, despite the way you terrify your enemies, Ace has seen what no one else has.

How you tuck into his blankets when you're alone. How you always make sure the crew eats before you do. How you fuss over him when he pretends his injuries don’t hurt.

You act all tough, all sharp edges and killing intent.

But Ace knows the truth.

You’re soft. At least, with him.

And that makes him fall for you even more.

He turn your head so that he can see you and with a smirk he says "Don't worry you're hot both ways, I don't mind your soft side at all"

Then he kiss your forehead and you try to hide again, making him laugh softly.

── .✦ Shanks:

Shanks has seen a lot in his life.

He’s fought warlords, crossed paths with the most dangerous men on the seas, and stared death in the face with a grin.

But when he meets you, he realizes he’s never met someone who could scare him and turn him on at the same time.

It happens in a crowded port town, where pirates and mercenaries walk side by side, tension thick in the air. Shanks and his crew are enjoying a round of drinks when Benn nudges him, nodding toward a shadowed corner of the bar.

“Oi, I found out that one’s got quite the reputation.”

Shanks follows his gaze and sees you.

You sit alone, posture relaxed but too still. There’s something about you... something in the way the people around you refuse to meet your eyes, in the way the bartender serves you with hands that tremble, scared to even do his own job.

The crew isn’t easily shaken, but even they seem wary.

Shanks just grins. Because if there’s one thing he can’t resist, it’s a challenge.

“Think I’ll go say hi.”

Benn sighs “Of course you will. Never doubted it.”

Shanks strolls over, drink in hand, and slides into the seat across from you without asking.

You don’t react. Just lift your gaze and meet his like you’re peering into his soul.

He whistles “You’ve got quite the stare.”

“You’ve got quite the nerve...” you reply smoothly.

Shanks chuckles “I get that a lot, actually.”

Silence stretches between you. He expects you to get annoyed, to tell him to leave, but surprisingly you don’t.

You just watch him. Measuring. Calculating. And damn if it doesn’t send a thrill up his spine.

Finally, you speak “You’re not scared of me.”

Shanks smirks, tipping his drink toward you “Should I be?”

Your eyes glint with something sharp. Dangerous. Interested.

“Maybe not, but who knows.”

Shanks leans forward, grinning “I like my odds.”

"I can see it..."

Years Later - “You’re doing it again” Benn mutters.

Shanks blinks “Doing what?”

Benn nods toward you. You’re across the deck, casually sharpening a blade, the crew giving you a very wide berth.

“You’re staring like a love-struck idiot” Benn sighs.

Shanks laughs “Can you blame me?”

Because despite years of being with you, despite knowing exactly how terrifying you can be, Shanks still finds himself completely captivated whenever you're fighting or not.

He’s seen you end fights with a single strike, watched entire battlefields fall silent at your presence. You are ruthless when necessary, the kind of person who doesn’t waste time with threats, just action.

And yet when you think no one’s watching, he sees the little things.

How you make sure the younger crew members eat first. How you adjust someone’s coat when they’re not paying attention. How, late at night, when exhaustion weighs heavy, you let yourself lean into him.

And Shanks?

He eats it up.

Because out of everyone in the world, you choose to be soft only with him.

Later that night, as you both sit on the deck watching the waves, Shanks stretches, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes but don’t push him away.

He grins “Y’know, for someone so scary, you’re kinda sweet.”

You turn, raising a brow “Wanna say that again?”

Shanks chuckles “Not if I value my life, and I do.”

You smirk, leaning against him just a little.

And that small, rare gesture is worth more to him than any treasure. He's totally in your hands, can you believe it? Because even he something looks at himself and shake his own head at the thought, but at the end who cares? He's with the most attractive person out there.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo isn’t the type to scare easily.

He has fought world nobles, infiltrated enemy territory, and stared death in the face more times than he can count. Fear isn’t something he entertains, it’s something he’s learned to push aside, to control.

But when he meets you?

For the first time in a long while, he actually hesitates.

It happens in a revolution-friendly town, the kind of place where people whisper about rebellion but fear retaliation too much to act. Sabo’s here on business, but what he doesn’t expect is to hear a name spoken in hushed, almost fearful tones.

A name that isn’t a government official or a bounty hunter, but yours.

“Who are they?” he asks a local, intrigued.

The man pales “Someone you don’t want to cross.”

Sabo just smirks “Is that so?”

He should probably be cautious. Should probably listen to the fear in the man’s voice.

But instead, he just wants to meet you more.

You’re exactly as the rumors say. You're cold, calculating and dangerous.

When Sabo finds you, you don’t attack him. You just watch him. Still. Silent. Your presence alone feels heavy, like the weight of an unseen blade resting against his throat, daring him to make a wrong move.

Most people would crack under it.

Sabo just grins “Heard a lot about you.”

You don’t react “Likewise.”

He hums, studying you. Most would be unnerved by your unwavering stare, the cold calculation in your eyes. But Sabo finds it fascinating. Finds you fascinating.

He hums, studying you “And? What’s your verdict?”

Your eyes narrow slightly, assessing him like he’s prey “Too early to tell. I don't judge based on rumors.”

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, a quiet tension settling between you. Sabo knows he should be cautious, he knows he’s facing someone whose strength is being feared even among revolutionaries.

But all he can think is — Damn. They’re kinda hot.

Years Later – It’s funny.

Everyone fears you. The Revolutionary Army sees you as a force of nature, one of their strongest, deadliest members. You’re efficient in battle, merciless when necessary. People whisper about you in the same breath as high-ranking officers, speaking of you like a phantom, something to be respected, but never approached.

But Sabo sees more than just the deadly aura that makes people tread lightly.

He sees the way your eyes gleam with amusement when a mission goes exactly as planned. He sees the way you tilt your head in interest, studying your enemies as if they’re puzzles to be solved before being discarded. He sees the way you move, every motion precise, effortless, a dance with death that you never lose.

And he loves it.

Loves the sharp edges, the lethal grace, the way you make his heart race, not with fear, but with something far more intoxicating.

And yet, he also sees the moments no one else does.

You, sitting beside him late at night, absentmindedly tracing circles against his palm.

You, making sure Koala doesn’t overwork herself, leaving her favorite snacks on her desk without a word.

You, rolling your eyes but still letting Sabo pull you into a hug after a long mission, even though your reputation could probably shatter just from being seen indulging him.

“You know,” he teases one night, tilting his head, “for someone so scary, you’re kind of a softie.”

You give him a flat look “Take that back.”

Sabo laughs, eyes gleaming with challenge “Nope. Never gonna happen.”

You grumble something under your breath but don’t pull away, and he counts that as a win.

Because out of everyone in the world, he knows you’re only ever like this with him.

And as much as he adores every part of you, it’s that razor-sharp danger in your eyes, that power in your every movement, that makes his blood sing.

It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating.

And damn, does he love you for it.

── .✦ Crocodile:

Crocodile has met aaaall kinds of people.

Cowards who grovel at his feet. Fools who think they can challenge him. Liars who smile while plotting his downfall.

But you? You don’t fit into any category.

Because when he first meets you, standing over the broken bodies of bounty hunters, face calm, eyes cold, he doesn’t see fear. He doesn’t see arrogance.

He sees power.

And for the first time in a long while, he’s interested.

When in Rainbase, long after the fall of Baroque Works, Crocodile has been rebuilding, regaining influence, cutting down anyone foolish enough to think he’s lost his edge.

And then you show up.

A ghost in the desert, they call you. A storm without warning. The kind of person who doesn’t make threats, just leaves bodies in their wake.

Crocodile hears the whispers. He almost ignores them.

Until one of his men ends up dead.

Then it's when he decides it’s time to meet you himself.

He finds you in a back alley, wiping blood from your blade.

You don’t look surprised to see him.

“You’ve been causing many problems” he says, exhaling smoke.

You tilt your head, unconcerned “That depends on who you ask.”

Crocodile’s lips curl into something amused. He’s used to people trembling in his presence. But you? You just stand there, watching him with the same detached intensity one might give a corpse.

It should irritate him.

Instead, it makes his blood thrill.

“I don’t like loose ends,” he says “So tell me, why shouldn’t I kill you?”

For the first time, you smile.

Not kind. Not warm.

Just sharp. Cold. Dangerous.

“You could try, I'm happy if you try.”

The air shifts.

Crocodile’s grip on his cigar tightens. His instincts, honed from years of surviving the worst of the worst, tell him that fighting you would not be easy.

And he likes that.

Years Later – Most people don’t look him in the eye.

Most people don’t speak without permission, don’t challenge his decisions, don’t dare to stand too close.

You do all of that.

And Crocodile lets you.

Because unlike the weaklings who grovel before him, you don’t need protection. You don’t need his power to survive.

You’re strong. Cold. Unshaken by blood or war.

And that makes you the only person truly worth his time.

One night, you’re both on the balcony of his hideout, looking down at the city below.

Crocodile exhales smoke, glancing at you “Most people would rather die than be in my company.”

You don’t even blink “Most people are weak.”

He chuckles, low and dark “That so?”

You finally meet his gaze, and in your eyes, he sees something sharp. Something dangerous.

Something that matches him.

He smirks.

Because finally, after years of dealing with fools, liars, and cowards, he’s found someone who is exactly his kind of monster.

[kashverse]

can i request a vacation with the kuna fam?

vacation for the kuna family is a non-negotiable, just like tax evasion for the rich and sukuna’s right to always be right. even if it's peak vacation season and the prices make you feel like you should start an anti-capitalist uprising, sukuna still takes his family on a trip. “this is highway robbery,” you mutter, staring at the obscene total on the hotel bill.

“highway robbery is when i force a company into bankruptcy,” sukuna corrects, signing the check without blinking. “this is just capitalism.”

and, of course, matching outfits are a must—including beachwear. you in a breezy cover-up, babykuna in an adorable one-piece, and sukuna in his beach trunks and absolutely nothing else, because the man has zero shame and an ego the size of the sun.

which is exactly why you’re currently holding yourself back from strangling a passing woman with your beach towel as she blatantly ogles your shirtless, tattooed husband. she’s staring so hard you’re convinced she’s mentally printing out a 4K poster of him for her bedroom wall. you narrow your eyes. “excuse me?” 

the woman blinks, clearly not expecting to be called out. "huh?" 

"do you need a picture or should i just let you borrow him for a second?" you say, voice dripping with deadly sweetness. sukuna, utterly entertained, casually drapes an arm over your chair. “babe, be nice.” 

you scoff, flipping your hair. "please. i am being nice."

meanwhile, on the other side of the beach, sukuna finds himself struggling. some random man is shamelessly staring at you sunbathing, sunglasses perched low on his nose like he’s about to write a dissertation on your beauty. sukuna’s left eye twitches.  “the fuck is he looking at?” he growls under his breath. 

"maybe my incredible fashion sense," you hum, stretching lazily under the sun. "i’ll bury him in the sand if he doesn’t stop," sukuna mutters, cracking his knuckles. 

"aww, babe," you coo, grinning. "you sound jealous."

"damn right i am," he grumbles.

but the final straw? some snot-nosed six-year-old punk is staring at his baby girl. 

babykuna. his pride. his joy. his perfect little princess.

the kid is standing awkwardly a few feet away, clutching a plastic shovel like he’s about to write a love confession in the sand. babykuna, blissfully unaware, is humming as she sculpts a perfect sandcastle. the boy swallows hard, gathering all his courage. he takes a deep breath. steps forward.

"hi," he says, small but brave.

sukuna immediately sits up.

"NO."

the kid freezes. babykuna frowns up at her dad. "papa, what?"

sukuna glares daggers at the boy. "what do you want?"

the poor child visibly shrinks. "uh—i just—"

"no. go away."

babykuna huffs, punching sukuna’s rock-solid thigh. "papa! stop being scary!"

"yeah, suku," you say, barely holding back laughter. “he’s just a kid.” 

sukuna scoffs. "yeah? so was genghis khan once."

but before babykuna can argue, an even worse situation unfolds. mr pickles, is currently stumbling around with his entire head stuck in a sand bucket. the miserable yeowling that follows is so dramatic it sounds like a victorian-era orphan mourning his dead parents. babykuna gasps. "mr pickles!"

the cat thrashes. trips over a sand mold. collapses like he’s been shot. babykuna immediately rushes over to save him, while you and sukuna watch, completely unfazed.

“should we help?” you ask. sukuna takes a sip of his cocktail. "nah. he’ll figure it out."

it’s chaotic. it’s stupidly expensive. it’s a test of patience. but, honestly? it’s perfect.

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[lovieku]

HANDS ON ME ⋆ 정국

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

୨ৎ from the grande series

pairing: nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

genre: smut

ratings: 18+ / mdni

warnings: based on this ask, lower case intended, jk is inexperienced and sooo whipped, it’s his birthday!!! and he’s getting it hhhh, lowk dom!oc x sub!jk, size kink, tit play, dry humping, brief coochie play, cum eating omfg, blow job, cutest babies ever

word count: 3.9k

a/n: first thing i saw this morning was that ask, so of course i had to write this. like THANK U ANON that was such a good idea yes yes yes. hope u enjoy 🩷🩷

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive @nooooooooonnneeeeeee @vantelover1306

────୨ৎ────

jeongguk didn’t wish for his birthday party to look like this.

the second he casually mentioned that his parents would be out of town on the very same day he would turn 21, his small friend group (consisting of the two nerdiest guys in college, probably even battling him for the top spot) took it on them to turn what he imagined would be a calm, quiet night spent with the comfort of jimin and taehyung in front of video games into a contending rival of a literal frat party. in his own house. when he never approved of it, nor asked for it.

there’s an inestimable amount of faces he has never seen before this moment, but they all seem to know him, congratulating him every time he comes in their vision. then, they go back to drinking, kissing, soft-fucking on his couch, and seemingly pumping up the volume of the music more and more with each blasting and ungraceful song.

that is probably why he’s struggling a bit more than he usually does with breathing. he’s a huge germaphobe, and having all these strangers barge into his space and lean on every possible surface with their greasy, alcohol stained hands has him close to hyperventilating.

he still hasn’t figured out how his two friends did it, but they managed to involve what looked like the whole uni into coming at jeongguk’s 21st birthday party like it was an unmissable event. it truly did seem like one, though, the birthday boy looking around in a confused awe and realizing this is all he’s ever missed from his teenage years. meh. not all that.

what really got him struggling to breathe is you. you, the most popular girl in college, talks about you on the mouths of all guys and girls in the hallways, loved yet envied by every single one of them, are here. and when you greeted him, you did so with a kiss for each of his cheeks. he stood there like he truly was going to let his lungs stop working, and you just smiled up at him through your long lashes and big eyes.

you’re not popular for the cliché reasons a girl in college might be. you’re not mean, you don’t square uncool people from head to toe with a judging look, you’re not known to be scary and unapproachable. the reason why you’re surrounded by a devoted swarm of bees is because you’re the literal definition of an angel.

an angel always ready to help anyone who seems like struggling, flash them with pearly whites, and be impossible to resist with bug, wide eyes conveying all your most honest emotions.

you’re known for genuine reasons. he’s never even heard many rumors about you, and if he did he assumed it was coming from way too envious people. the only thing he allowed himself to believe about your privacy, is that you’re very caring in bed.

he won’t admit it, feels disgusting for it, but he’s touched himself to that thought a couple of times. maybe more.

it doesn’t matter now, because you’re closer to him than you’ve ever been, and you sit in the overwhelming circle that has formed on the floor of his living room, people he has never even talked to proposing games and pushing drinks into his hand since he’s now 21.

unlike most people, that number doesn’t mean a lot to him. he’s not that thrilled about the knowledge that he can now get his hands on anything that was previously denied to him, alcohol and substances of those sorts. he never liked them, and he doesn’t think he will just because of this newfound freedom.

he’s now getting the full experience when someone, sharp-eyed and drunk on audacity, spots the wooden door to his dad’s wine cellar left slightly ajar and suggests seven minutes in heaven with the kind of enthusiasm jeongguk imagines newton felt when that apple hit his head.

on his right, jimin panics for jeongguk, “you’re not going to fuck in mr. jeon’s wine cellar.”

“who said anything about fucking?” dahye, a friend of yours, the complete opposite of you with a mean aura and sliced eyes, intervenes and has everyone laughing.

jimin rolls his eyes and plops down from where he straightened up on his knees, and jeongguk stays silent. he gave up fighting long ago, when the first drink spilled on his carpet.

he just gives a tight-lipped smile when his blonde friend tries an apologetic look, shaking his head and studying the room. jeongguk gulps when his eyes inevitably fall on yours, and he finds you already staring, an intensity he hasn’t seen often. when he’s sure he’s perfectly resembling a deer caught in headlights, you tilt your head amusedly, and he hastily focuses back down on his lap.

“well, since jimin is so afraid we’re gonna break his boyfriend’s stuff,” dahye continues, feeding off the childish chuckles coming from around her, and maybe also off jimin’s annoyed glare, “why don’t we let the birthday boy go first?”

at that, jeongguk’s head snaps up, his fluffy hair bouncing with the sudden movement, and he looks around wide eyed. he’s not sure what the game entails, he just knows something is supposed to happen, but he’s not sure exactly what the people hungrily gawking at him are expecting.

taehyung is about to add something when dahye interrupts once again, resting her hand on your lap beside her, “he can go with ___. i know that would make his day.”

sitting at her left, you’re the only one who doesn’t laugh at the sneaky implication; instead, you glare at your friend, who shrugs in response.

both jimin and taehyung fall in total silence, their eyes alarmingly looking at their friend in the middle. jeongguk seems a hundred times more panicked, but not because of the same reasons.

while his two best friends are simply excited at the prospect of jeongguk’s every dream coming true, eagerly expecting a positive answer from his mouth, jeongguk’s whole focus is on you, and your seemingly impassive face. his mind spins with haunting worries, giving at least twenty different interpretations to the way you’re looking at him, brows subtly twitching up.

he clumsily parts his lips to say something, but with absolutely no senseful thought swarming his brain, nothing comes out.

a beat of anticipated silence goes by before you gracefully stand up, all eyes following you, and even if quiet, your voice goes through the music, “let’s go, gguk.”

jeongguk loudly gulps, and he hopes the sound isn’t heard, but he doubts it since he’s receiving a scary amount of attention that goes over what he’s received his whole life.

if it wasn’t for the two guys at his sides pushing him to stand up, he would have stayed with his ass perched to the floor. instead, he stumbles and almost trips, meeting your eyes with awkward shame as you just softly smile at his gawkiness.

you don’t wait for him, daintily walking to the room victim of the game, pushing the door open and curiously peeking inside. jeongguk hastily jumps over the people sitting on the ground, still quietly observing the scene, and he’s at your side way faster than the time it took for him to even realize what was about to happen.

he exhales loudly at the proximity, standing behind you and basking in the height difference, your head barely reaching his chest, and he thinks he truly sees heaven when you turn around to look up at him, grinning delicately as you tilt your head back, “wanna go in?”

jeongguk is sure he has lost the capability to speak. no matter the sounds he tries to force up his throat, they’re not strong enough to fight their way out. he simply closes the door behind the two of you, and he’s glad when it significantly helps drown out the loud music and drunkish chatter.

he’s less glad for it when it means he’s officially left alone with you in a relatively cramped space, the silence almost more suffocating than the room and its strong smell. but he’s convinced you must be an angel when you don’t complain, not even slightly, your face the expression of composure.

he stands in the middle of the cellar while you explore it in a circle, letting your heels click on the parquet floor and your fingers carefully brush the wine bottles.

the simple action makes him feel hot, naughty mind conjuring up images of you tracing his skin with such care, and he releases a shaky breath before you can stop him, blurting his messy thoughts out, “we— we don’t have— have to do anyt—”

“sit on that stool, gguk.”

the command is anything but harsh, your voice a soft melody of calmness, but it still startles him. no, it shakes something in his chest, traveling all the way down to where he’s starting to feel a strong urge.

you point to a wooden stool in the corner of the room, which doesn’t look too high, but when he obediently goes to sit on it with his knees wobbling, you promptly place yourself in front of him and grin at the way he’s still almost at face level with you, his forehead reaching only a little under your chin.

his huge proportions compared to yours have always managed to make your head spin and thighs squeeze together whenever you managed to sit next to him in the few lectures you shared, lashes fluttering seductively to have him fix nonexistent bugs on your computer just to see his wide hand close to yours on the keyboard.

now, with his puppy eyes staring up at you expectantly, his drawn up brows only emphasizing his yearning, you need to steady yourself with hands on his shoulder to hold back from quite literally grinding on him. you whisper, “good.”

his orbs shake impossibly more, and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers fidgeting in his lap, fighting a delirious need. his legs are spread just enough for you to be standing right in the middle of them, but you push yourself further into him, his chin lifting up even higher to never be forced to look away from your firm gaze, hanging from your lips when you voice an apology, “i didn’t bring a gift, ggukkie.”

jeongguk is almost panting, the endearing nicknames only adding to the warmth of your sweet body, your vanilla scent clouding his senses and gouging the truth out of him, “th—that’s okay, ___. i—i’m very happy you’re here.”

you smile, but it’s one he’s never seen on you. it’s not one of those you flash when you’re grateful, understanding, or even amused. it’s mischievous, almost belittling. “are you saying i’m your gift?”

his eyes widen, and he’s ashamed of the way your accusative tone causes him to throb in his jeans, and in his speech too, “huh— oh my god. i’m so sorry. that must sound so—”

you chuckle, stroking his broad back with your hands sliding across his width, “hey, slow down. it sounds so very cute coming from your lips.”

jeongguk appreciates your efforts at trying to put him at ease, truly. but your soothing touch and words only have him in a state of alert, even more when your fingers travel up his nape and find home in his locks. you’re impossibly close now, and he feels your voice resounding within him, “but i’m still not satisfied. i wanna give you more, make you forgive me.”

your whisper fans over his lips, and he unconsciously parts them for you, his eyes hooded by the second and glassed over with desperate want. you smirk.

stepping back enough for his neck to rest at a comfortable angle, he whimpers deliciously at the loss of your touch, but you shut him up just as quickly when your dress is off you and on the wooden floor in a swift motion.

jeongguk is definitely panting now, breathing manually and focusing too much on having his heart pump oxygen for him rather than the view of your exposed body in front of him.

he gradually realizes he could care less about dying right now if it means the last thing he’s going to be faced with is your nipples hardening with the cool, and hopefully something else, and your lacy white panties barely covering your core.

jeongguk stares like a starved man being met with his first meal after weeks of seeking, his hands trembling on his thighs and squeezing into suppressing fists.

his gasp turns into an awfully high-pitched moan when you hook a finger under the hem of your lingerie, sliding it daintily down your legs and walking out of it, never breaking eye contact with him. only thing you’re left with are your high heeled boots.

the next thing you do has the organs that keep all his vital functions going completely stop working, his heart missing more than ten beats and catching up with an alarmingly fast speed, causing his voice to shake, “___, wh—what are you—”

swinging one of your legs, you sit on him with your ingloriously stained panties pressing right on his crotch, hands placed back on the base of his neck, basking in the way you can feel his rapid beating under your fingers.

you lean into his ear, “if you like what you see, you can put your hands on me, baby.”

jeongguk throws his head back for air, his chest heaving with trembling exhales before he finds your eyes again, and in the fraction of second he needed to look elsewhere if he didn’t want to bust in his tight pants already, you’re a whole different person.

your eyes are sliced, pupils blown and hooded, and your parted lips stretch just enough to paint a wicked smirk over your face, its effects flooding right down his stomach and making you feel his hardness through the material.

his hands dance a panicked rhythm hovering over your sides, not sure what to do, not deeming himself deserving of feeling your skin under his touch. but you take it upon yourself to guide them, pressing his palms against your hips and letting them ride up your exposed breasts.

he whimpers, fingertips unconsciously testing the sense of the soft curve of your boobs with a subtle press, but it’s not enough. you can’t feel him.

with your hands still on his, you arch yourself further into his touch and have his thumbs slice over your sensitive nubs, letting out a moan of your own that goes over his low groan. you lick your lips and struggle to find your breath and words too, but you whisper them through an already too fucked out smile, “see? you can touch me, just like that.”

the go-ahead is all he needs for him to dive his head right into your chest, his tongue catching your nipple in an unpracticed hunger, messily sucking on it and quickly leaving your skin soaked with spit. he works clumsily with his hand on your other tit, movements uncoordinated and unsure.

but the fact that he seems to not care about his inexperience, willing to learn right at this moment all it takes for you to keep whimpering and trembling when he touches, has your usually composed senses lost in a haze of desire, the need to give your all to the nerdy boy that is finally being properly touched just as he turns 21 clouding your senses and pushing you to unconsciously buck your hips against his.

he moans with his mouth full of you, his free hand gripping your thigh, and he tries to stop it but he can’t help the way he meets your grinding, snapping up as if he lost all sort of control over his body. he quite literally wails in desperation, “fuck— don’t— don’t do that. i’m gonna— oh, god.”

“you’re gonna cum?” you sound just as crazed, hips rutting at a faster speed on him, the slickness smearing all over his jeans and leaving a wet patch right where his dick stays confined.

“no! i— i mean, just give me a second, shit. i swear, i—”

“ggukkie, this is about you. i’ll make you cum, hm? how’s that sound?” the sweet sound of your promise has him seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as he feels himself getting close to a point he doesn’t think he’s ever reached before.

until he’s back to zero.

you lift your hips off his, helping your weight up by placing your hands on his broad shoulders, and you sport a devilish smile when he opens his eyes again, protest ready on his tongue. his brows are furrowed and there’s tears ready to spill out from his eyelids, but you don’t let them.

the huge palm that was still fondling your breast is now being led by you further down, until it disappears between you. you have him cup your wet core, the intensity of the moment only heightened by your gaze never leaving his, “touch me.”

when panic flashes over his expression once again, you instruct him through it just how you did minutes before, and he quickly gets the hang of it. you always appreciated him being a fast learner, but you couldn’t imagine that it would come handy in a scenario like this one.

you hum when his ring and middle finger trace your slit, only to come up to try and find your clit in a surprisingly good attempt, “good, get all of it. make your hand wet.”

the moment squelching sounds reach your ears, you leave your seat from his lap and stand on your heels again. he whines, unknowingly reaching for you, but you halt his hand and redirect it on the zipper of his jeans. you tilt your chin, “take them off.”

he’s quicker than he was at the beginning of his seven minutes in heaven now, freeing himself from the tight pants, boxers going along with it, and his cock springs free deliciously, standing tall and proud against his tummy.

you groan, almost already falling to your knees like you are planning to do soon. it’s an adjective you don’t think you’ve ever used on any of the guys you’ve been with, but jeongguk’s cock is pretty. its pink tip matches his lips, swollen from the harsh biting, and it doesn’t look rough. it has just the perfect length, girth, and when it twitches under your awe, you see it bend subtly to the right.

you smile, meeting his face again, delirious need written all over it, “stroke your cock with the hand you touched me with,” the second the order is out your lips, he’s already working himself. you can see him trying to go at a merciful speed, his grip loose, and it makes you grin amusedly, “mh, aren’t you so obedient. let me have a taste, gguk.”

you clearly have noticed that he’s not as quick on his feet as he usually is, brain clouded, so you once again take it upon yourself to lead his hand, this time introducing two of his fingers in your warm mouth. you hum loudly around the thick digits, eyes rolling back, and you speak around them, “fuck, you wanna try that?”

you don’t wait for him to reply, knowing it would get him minutes that you sadly don’t have to formulate a senseful answer, and you simply feed him his own fingers, carefully watching the way he lets his cheek hollow around them. you chuckle feverishly, “we taste so good together, don’t we?”

he nods eagerly, eyes glassy with more tears, and you think you can see one drop at the side of his face just as you fall to your knees in front of his seated body, your pretty figure even smaller from his view, and he’s graced with your bug eyes staring up at him through long lashes.

you don’t waste any more time, knowing there’s not much left in the heaven you’ve created for your own, and you wrap your ravenous mouth around him, showing none of the previous mercy in your speed.

he lets his mouth hang open, moans uncontrollably loud, and he needs to grab the sides of his stool to get the illusion of some sort of power still left within him. he closes his eyes in bliss, but quickly snaps them open when he realizes what he’s missing.

you’re bobbing your head up and down his length, and you still manage to maintain that dainty elegance that characterizes you, slim fingers gripping around the base and making up for the spots you can’t reach. he pants on the verge of a heart attack, pitch high as he begs, “fuck. look— look up at me, please.”

you do, aligning yourself better to meet his frenzied state, eyes communicating all the words you can’t say, too engaged in having him unravel all over your lips. he groans at the eye contact, thinking back to all the times he’s seen this exact scene flash behind his closed eyelids, and he’s a fool for even believing his mere imagination could compare.

it will never be enough, never again. not after this. not after knowing what you look like as you devote yourself to him, precise movements getting him closer, the way your tongue flickers out to reach down further and how you let his tip meet the back of your throat finally causing him to snap his hips up involuntarily, and before he can say something to warn you, he’s painting your warm mouth with his cum.

ropes of white, hot liquid spill out from you, but you promptly collect all of it, making sure not a single drop is missed, gulping it down with eager want. you wordlessly smile up at him, infatuated with the way his chest heaves and his lips part, trying to regain some composure.

he thinks he will need hours to fully recover. and he’s not even sure he wants this moment to end, blurting his predominant thought out before he knows it, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

you chuckle as you get up, quickly soothing your knees before collecting your panties from the ground and walking back inside them, “it’s okay, baby. this was my birthday gift for you, hm? besides, we don’t have much time left before the others come in.”

“but…”

jeongguk helplessly watches as you get dressed, cringing at the stickiness of your wet core but nonetheless slipping your flowy dress back on. he just had the best orgasm of his life from the girl he firmly believes to be the love of his life, and he doesn’t get to give it back. oh, he feels like an absolute asshole.

you seem to read it all simply by scanning his face fondly, words soft, “that doesn’t mean you won’t get to do that, you cute boy. you will, and soon.”

when you’re done fixing the creases over your clothes, you walk to him and help him back in his jeans. tucking his softening length in, you lift up the zip of his pants and you’re glad for the way the patch of your wetness seems to have dried.

standing between his spread legs, you brush a hand through his hair, tenderly watching the way his curls fall and tickle his forehead. you smile and whisper quietly, “i got your number from dahye. i’ll text you, okay?”

he gulps, nodding hastily at your rhetorical question and feeling the blush creep up his neck. god, he must look like a total fool, “o—okay…”

humming lowly, you press your lips to his cheek, then to the tip of his nose, “you’re so pretty, you know that? don’t be sad.” next, your mouth rests on his, molding in a kiss that has his eyes shooting wide, and that ends way before he can even realize what’s happening. you chuckle at his expression, and you can’t resist another peck before promising, “happy birthday, gguk.”

[calypso-rt]

spring break

-> FratBoy!Rafe x Smart!Reader

SUMMARY: When your sorority best friend ropes you into a chaotic spring break trip to Cabo with a bunch of frat boys, you’re already dreading the party-fueled disaster ahead. Then, you find out Rafe Cameron is coming, and somehow, it only gets worse.

“You’re coming to Cabo.”

You don’t even get a hello. Just a demand, lobbed at you from across the library table where your best friend, Savannah, is aggressively highlighting her Intro to Communications notes like she’s studying for the MCAT.

“No, I’m not.” You don’t even look up from your laptop.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m really not.”

Savannah huffs, snapping her highlighter shut. “Oh my god, would you just live a little? It’s spring break. It’s Cabo. It’s funded.”

That makes you pause. You narrow your eyes. “Funded by who?”

“The boys.”

And just like that, your interest dies a quick, painful death.

Savannah is in a sorority. A very enthusiastic one. Which means most of her life is entangled with frat boys, whose biggest life aspirations seem to be shotgunning beers and perfecting the art of the backward hat. You do not do frat boys.

“Absolutely not,” you say, turning back to your essay. “I’m not spending a week with a bunch of guys who can’t spell ‘Cabo’ sober.”

Savannah pouts. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you need this. When’s the last time you had fun?”

“I have fun.”

She snorts. “Name one time.”

You open your mouth. Pause. Think.

She smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan. “I can’t just drop everything to go party for a week.”

“Yes, you can! You’re literally a genius, you’re ahead in all your classes. You don’t even need to study. And when’s the last time you touched a man?”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

She grins. “Come on, you need a little chaos in your life. A little tequila. Maybe a hot vacation hookup—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “But you’re still coming.”

You eventually cave. Because Savannah is persistent and a little scary when she wants to be. And, fine, maybe she has a point. Maybe you do need to loosen up.

So you agree. Bags are packed. You’re mentally preparing yourself…

And then you hear his name.

“Wait, Rafe is coming?”

Savannah gives you a look. “Duh. He’s literally paying for, like, the whole trip.”

You blanch in disbelief. “You left that part out.”

“Because I knew you’d freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you lie. “I just think he’s a menace to society.”

Rafe Cameron. Walking red flag, heir to his father’s obscene wealth, professional douchebag. You’ve known him for a while, mostly because he’s always around. Always smirking, always making some smug comment that makes your eye twitch.

And now you’re supposed to be stuck in Cabo with him for a week?

“I hate you,” you tell Savannah.

…

You saw him immediately.

Which was annoying, because why did Rafe Cameron have the kind of presence that made him impossible to ignore? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

He was leaning against the check-in counter, lazily twirling his passport between his fingers, looking too good for someone about to spend hours crammed into an economy-class seat. (Or maybe not… he definitely upgraded.) His shirt was perfectly unbuttoned at the top, his sunglasses pushed into his hair, his expression smug as ever.

And, of course, he was surrounded by people. Girls, mostly. Savannah’s sorority sisters. They were laughing, flipping their hair, practically competing for his attention.

But the second his eyes landed on you?

They all ceased to exist.

His lips curled into a slow, annoying smirk. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite scholar.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping the strap of your carry-on. “Don’t talk to me.”

His smirk deepened. He ignored literally everyone else, taking a step closer, tilting his head like he was so interested in your reaction. “You wound me, sweetheart. You’re not excited to see me?”

“Not even remotely.”

“Damn.” He pressed a hand to his chest like you’d physically hurt him. “And here I was thinking you’d missed me.”

“I forget you exist the second you leave the room.”

“Sure you do.”

You refused to engage further. Refused. You turned to Savannah, who was watching this interaction like it was free entertainment.

“Tell me again why I’m here?”

“For the memories,” she chirped.

“Memories,” Rafe repeated, like he found that hilarious. “That’s one way to put it.”

You scowled at him. “What’s your way?”

He grinned. “Bad decisions.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should have. then, the gate announcement came over the speakers, and everything went to hell.

First, check-in was a nightmare.

Half the group, including Rafe, because of course, was randomly selected for additional security screening. You stood there, arms crossed, watching as the TSA agent patted him down, your lips twitching.

He caught your expression and smirked. “Enjoying the show?”

“You probably deserve it.”

“For what?”

You gestured vaguely. “General crimes.”

He grinned, but before he could respond, Savannah grabbed your arm. “We’re going to miss the flight if they don’t hurry the hell up.”

And that’s when you realized.

The flight was boarding. And half your group was still getting frisked like they were on a watchlist.

“Sir, you need to remove your watch.”

The TSA agent was done with Rafe. Everyone was done with Rafe.

He scoffed. “I can’t remove my watch.”

“Sir, it needs to go in the bin.”

“You don’t understand. This isn’t just any watch.”

“Rafe,” you groaned. “For the love of god.”

He ignored you. “It’s a Rolex.”

The agent stared, unamused. “And?”

“And?” Rafe gestured wildly. “I’m not putting it in a plastic tub next to some dude’s crusty Air Forces.”

“Take it off or you don’t get on the plane.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I swear, I will leave you here.”

Rafe sighed dramatically, but finally took it off, muttering about how this was “basically robbery.” You shoved him through security before he could make it worse.

And then, just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get more chaotic, someone (Topper, obviously) got lost on the way to the gate.

By the time you reached the gate, it was full panic mode.

The flight was already boarding. The gate agent looked one second away from giving your seats away. Everyone was running. Savannah was yelling into her phone. Topper was “two minutes away,” which, judging by his sense of time, meant twenty.

You were about to lose it.

And then, Rafe.

Because of course, instead of helping, he was just laughing.

You whirled on him. “Why are you smiling?”

“This is hilarious.”

“This is a disaster.”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart.” He slung an arm around your shoulders, completely ignoring your look of deepest betrayal. “What’s a vacation without a little chaos?”

And the worst part?

It was only just beginning

…

You had been prepared for the worst.

You had been prepared for middle seats, crying babies, and a solid four hours of discomfort because of course this group of people wouldn’t have planned anything properly.

What you had not been prepared for was this.

You blinked at your boarding pass. Then at Savannah. Then back at the little piece of paper in your hands.

“Sav,” you said slowly. “Why does my ticket say first class?”

Savannah winced. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Oh, yeah?” you repeated.

“Yeah. Rafe kinda… paid for the tickets.”

Your eye twitched. “And?”

“And he got himself first class, obviously.” She bit her lip. “And… you.”

You stared at her. Then at Rafe, who was standing a few feet away, looking very pleased with himself.

You stormed over. “What the hell, Cameron?”

He turned, all slow amusement, taking in your expression like he was thriving off it. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. Why am I in first class?”

His grin widened. “Because I put you there.”

“No. No, you don’t just—” You gestured wildly. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “Would you rather be in economy?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Because I can switch your ticket,” he mused, already reaching for it. “You can sit next to Kelce. I think he was planning on getting absolutely obliterated before takeoff.”

You snatched it back before he could. Mistake. Because now he knew you weren’t going to give it up.

And he grinned.

“Uh huh,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”

You exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

He just slung an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the gate. “C’mon, sweetheart. First class awaits.”

…

You had barely sat down before you realized your next mistake.

You should have fought harder. You should have taken your chances in economy. Because this?

This was just another opportunity for Rafe to be Rafe.

The second you settled into the ridiculously comfortable seat, he turned to you, stretching out like he was made for luxury.

“Y’know,” he said, watching you buckle your seatbelt, “I could get used to this.”

“You already are used to this,” you muttered.

He ignored you, eyes glinting with amusement. “Bet you’re glad I put you up here now, huh?”

You refused to give him the satisfaction. “Not really.”

“Liar.”

You scowled. “I could be back there with my friends.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because being crammed in the middle seat between Topper and some random dude is so much better.”

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms.

He grinned, fully stretching out. “I’m a giver, sweetheart. I saw an opportunity to make your life easier, and I took it.”

“You just wanted to sit next to me.”

He didn’t even deny it. Just smirked, tipping his head against the seat.

“What can I say?” His voice was low, amused. “I like good company.”

You exhaled, staring straight ahead. This was going to be a long flight.

The flight attendant appeared with champagne.

Rafe plucked both glasses off the tray before you could even reach for one.

You turned to him. “Are you serious?”

He handed one over smoothly, smirking. “Just making sure you don’t back out on me now.”

You rolled your eyes, but took a sip anyway.

And that was your next mistake.

Because the way Rafe Cameron watched you over the rim of his glass, smirk lazy, eyes flicking down…

Yeah.

This was definitely going to be a long flight

…

It was absolute chaos.

The club was packed, pulsing with music so loud you could feel it in your chest. Neon lights flashed in dizzying colors, glinting off sweating bodies, plastic cups, and way too many shirtless frat boys.

You had barely made it through the door before Savannah had pulled you to the bar, laughing about “starting strong” while ordering shots like she was on a personal mission to get obliterated.

You, on the other hand?

You had one goal tonight.

Avoid Rafe Cameron at all costs.

He had been smug all day, from the airport to the hotel, from first class to baggage claim. You could feel his eyes on you always, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

You were not letting him ruin your first night in Cabo.

Which was why you had been strategically moving through the club, bouncing between different groups, making yourself impossible to track.

At least, you thought you had.

You had just reached the dance floor, laughing as Savannah pulled you into a mess of swaying bodies when someone leaned down, breath warm against your ear.

“Running from me, sweetheart?”

Your stomach dropped.

You turned sharply, only to be met with him.

Rafe Cameron, all effortless amusement, watching you like you were his favorite thing in the entire club. His blue button-down was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up.m showing off his toned forearms.

Your pulse jumped…annoyance. Definitely annoyance.

“What are you doing?” you demanded over the music.

He lifted a brow. “Drinking. Dancing. Watching you try to escape me.”

“I am not—”

His grin widened.

You huffed. “There are literally hundreds of girls here, Cameron. Go bother one of them.”

“Hmm.” He took a slow sip from his drink, eyes never leaving you. “Nah. I like this better.”

You scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

You turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction, and disappeared back into the crowd.

You had just finally managed to have a conversation without somehow running into Rafe again when things took a turn.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, you found yourself cornered at the bar.

The guy wasn’t terrible.

He just wasn’t… good.

Too close. Too persistent. The kind of guy who kept touching your arm even though you hadn’t touched him once.

“You should let me buy you another drink,” he said, voice slurring slightly.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

“C’mon.” His grin didn’t reach his eyes. “One more.”

You shifted, already uncomfortable. “I should get back to my friends—”

And then, before you could react, a familiar hand landed on your waist.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” a voice drawled.

You froze.

Rafe.

Again.

The guy blinked, looking up. “Yo, man, I was just talking to her—”

“Yeah?” Rafe’s grip tightened. His voice was still light, still calm, but you felt the shift instantly. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

The guy glanced between the two of you, processing.

Then scoffed. “Whatever, dude.”

And left.

You exhaled, only now realizing just how tense you had been.

Rafe didn’t move.

You turned, looking up at him, expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that.”

His jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah, I did.”

Something about the seriousness in his voice made your stomach flip.

But before you could say anything, before you could think too hard about what was happening, he smirked.

“Still mad I followed you around all night?”

You shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

And, stupidly, ridiculously, unreasonably, you felt a little safer with him there

…

You should have known better.

But the second Topper and JJ started running their mouths, there was no way in hell you were backing down.

“I don’t think she can do it,” Topper said, arms crossed, grinning.

JJ snorted. “Of course not. She’s smart, man. Smart girls don’t drink like us. It’s, like, scientifically proven.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just made that up.”

“Maybe,” JJ shrugged. “Point still stands.”

And that was it.

That was all it took for your highly competitive self.

Now, you were sitting at a table in the middle of the club, with way too many empty shot glasses in front of you, staring down the final round of what had become a full-fledged, all-out, death match of a drinking game.

JJ and Topper had both tapped out.

The only ones left?

You.

And some guy named Ryan who had apparently been in a frat for seven years.

The crowd around you had gotten bigger. People were chanting your name. Someone had started recording.

Ryan wobbled in his seat, swaying. “You good?” he slurred.

You grinned, drunk and victorious. “Never better.”

Then you picked up your final shot, downed it without flinching, and slammed the glass onto the table.

The room erupted.

JJ was yelling. Topper was yelling. People were high-fiving you like you just won the Super Bowl.

Ryan?

Ryan collapsed.

(Okay, he didn’t actually collapse, but he definitely groaned and put his head down, which meant victory.)

You turned to JJ and smirked. “What was that about smart girls not being able to drink?”

JJ gaped. “Dude.”

Topper shook his head. “That was insane.”

You leaned back in your chair, fully prepared to bask in your victory…

Until someone appeared behind you, large hands bracing on the back of your chair.

A very familiar someone.

“You’re an idiot,” Rafe drawled, amusement laced through his voice.

You looked up, dazed but cocky. “I won.”

His lips quirked, but his eyes flickered over you, assessing. “You’re also wasted.”

“Incorrect,” you announced. “I am functionally drunk.”

He snorted. “That a scientific term?”

“Obviously.”

Rafe sighed, shaking his head. “C’mon, champ,” he muttered, gripping your elbow. “Let’s go.”

You frowned. “I’m not ready to go.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice just low enough that no one else could hear.

“You just blinked at me one eye at a time, sweetheart. Yeah, you’re done.”

You scowled, but the warmth of his hand against your arm was steady, and your body was definitely swaying a little, and—

Okay. Maybe he had a point.

Maybe

…

You woke up in hell.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your head was pounding. Your mouth was dry. Your stomach was actively staging a rebellion.

And, worst of all, the sun.

Why was it so bright?

You groaned, turning over to hide your face in your pillow.

Except… that wasn’t a pillow.

That was an arm.

A very strong, very male arm.

Your eyes flew open.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

In your bed.

What. The. Hell.

Panic surged through you. Did you—? Did he—?

No. No way. You would remember that. Right?

You squinted.

Rafe was lying on his stomach, one arm flung over your waist like you were a teddy bear. His face was turned toward you, half-buried in the pillow, hair somehow still perfect despite the fact that he drank twice as much as you last night.

You shoved at his shoulder. “Rafe.”

Nothing.

You shoved harder. “Rafe.”

A deep groan rumbled from his throat. He stretched nonchalantly, blinking at you with zero urgency.

“Morning, sunshine,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.

You scowled. “Why are you in my room?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Dunno. I was in bed, and then Topper started snoring like a freight train, so I came here.”

You blinked. “So your solution was to sleep with me?”

Rafe grinned, voice smug and slow. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

But before you could properly kick him out, the door burst open, and Savannah strode in, looking way too alive for someone who drank twice their body weight last night.

She barely glanced at Rafe. “Oh, good, you’re up,” she said. “Beach in twenty. Get dressed.”

You groaned. “Sav, I’m dying.”

“No, you’re hungover. Big difference.”

You flopped back against the pillow. “Same thing.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. Beach. Twenty.” Then she left.

Rafe sighed. “Guess you gotta get up, champ.”

“I hate everything,” you grumbled, burrowing deeper into the sheets.

He chuckled. “That’s new.”

…

You weren’t dramatic.

(Okay, maybe sometimes. But only when warranted.)

And this?

This was warranted.

The beach was too bright. Too loud. Too everything.

You plopped down onto the sand, pulling your knees to your chest, squinting at the ocean like it personally offended you.

Rafe, of course, looked completely fine.

Perfectly tan. Perfectly dry. Perfectly infuriating.

He dropped down next to you, grinning. “You look awful.”

You glared. “I hope a seagull steals your wallet.”

He snorted. “You need sunglasses.”

“No, I need death.”

Rafe sighed, then, before you could protest, reached up and pulled his ridiculously expensive designer sunglasses off his face.

“Here.”

You blinked. “No way. Those cost, like, more than my tuition.”

“Just put them on, princess.”

You hesitated. He rolled his eyes, then gently (annoyingly) slid them onto your face himself.

The world dimmed. Your head stopped throbbing.

You exhaled. “Okay. Fine. This helps.”

Rafe smirked. “Told you.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you to your feet.

“What—Rafe!”

He didn’t answer. Just dragged you toward the water, walking backward so he could still look at you.

“C’mon, you need to wake up.”

“No, I need—Rafe, I swear to God—”

But it was too late.

The second you were ankle-deep in the waves, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

You screamed. Actually screamed. “Cameron, don’t you dare—”

Then he dropped you.

Right into the waves.

You resurfaced, sputtering. “You’re dead.”

Rafe just laughed. “You look awake now.”

“Oh, you’re so dead.”

Then, before he could react, you launched yourself at him, dragging him down into the water with you

…

The trip was almost over.

You had spent days avoiding Rafe, only for him to show up everywhere you went. He was annoying. Smug. Overbearing.

And yet…

He was also the one who kept an eye on you when you were wasted. The one who shoved his sunglasses on your face when the sun was too much. The one who carried you out of the water after you refused to walk because “the ocean was punishing you for existing.”

And now?

Now you were standing at the hotel entrance, waiting for your ride to the airport, his sunglasses still on your face.

Rafe was next to you, hands shoved in his pockets, watching you with that too-easy smirk.

“Guess this is it,” you muttered.

“Tragic,” he drawled. “Bet you’ll miss me.”

You snorted. “Yeah. Like a headache.”

He chuckled. “Harsh, sunshine.”

You opened your mouth for another quip, but then, before you could, he reached over and tilted the sunglasses down your nose, just enough for your eyes to meet his ocean blue ones.

You swallowed.

“You should keep ‘em,” he said, way too casual.

Your breath caught. “What?”

He shrugged. “The sunglasses. Keep ‘em.”

You blinked. “Rafe. These cost, like—”

“Don’t care.” He smirked. “Looks better on you anyway.”

And before you could process that, he reached up and flicked the frame, right between your brows.

“Try not to miss me too much, champ.”

Then he turned, sauntering toward the car like he didn’t just short-circuit your entire brain.

You should’ve taken them off. Should’ve shoved them back at him.

But instead, you just stood there.

Wearing his stupid, expensive sunglasses.

And maybe smiling a little, too.

A/N: finally got my chance to write frat boy Rafe and boy was it fun 😼

[sealmisuyu]

Seventeen and their baby💭

─┈ ۫  ˖  ⊹ ୨sealmisuyu◛ ˚₊🍈 ֹ ׅ ɞ more content under the cut!

You were convinced that being an idol was supposed to be cool.

You were also convinced that being the youngest in a company full of older idols should not mean you were treated like a lost puppy at all times.

But Seventeen had other plans.

The first time you met Seventeen, you were starstruck. The second time you were ambushed.

"She’s so small" Seungkwan announced, staring at you like you were a rare animal at the zoo.

"I’m literally a normal height" you deadpanned, but it didn’t matter because Mingyu had already picked you up off the ground like a sack of rice.

"HAVE YOU BEEN EATING WELL?"

"PUT ME DOWN THE FUCK—"

And from that day on, the teasing never stopped. You were practically a baby to them, and they took their big brother roles seriously.

"Did you drink water today?"

You blinked up at Minghao, who had materialized out of nowhere with a bottle of water in hand.

"Uh… yeah?"

He squinted. "Drink again."

You sighed but took a sip anyway, because you knew better than to argue with him.

And it wasn’t just that.

When you tried ordering coffee, Joshua intercepted with a horrified gasp. "You’re too young for that!"

"Josh, I’m literally an adult"

"You’ll stunt your growth!"

"I’M ALREADY GROWN?!"

Dino nodded solemnly. "This is how they treat me, too. There’s no escape"

Unfortunately you learned that the hard way.

One time, you tripped during a music show rehearsal, and before you even hit the ground, Joshua had already caught you, Jeonghan was checking your knees, and Hoshi was yelling at the floor.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HER?!"

(Hoshi please it’s just a floor)

And don’t even think about dating.

"Who are you texting?" Woozi asked casually, glancing at your phone.

"No one."

"You smiled."

"I was looking at a meme!"

But it was too late.

"WHO IS IT?"

"DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?"

"IS IT SOMEONE WE KNOW?"

The way they interrogated you, you’d think you were committing a crime.

"Guys, I don’t even like anyone!" you huffed.

"Good" Vernon nodded"Boys are scary"

"…Aren't you a boy?"

"Exactly."

If you posted a selfie, they flooded the comments with embarrassing uncle energy.

"Our baby is so cute!!!" – Hoshi

"Why is she posing like that?" – Woozi

"POCKET SIZED" – DK

If you did a weevers live, they showed up in the chat like overbearing parents.

"Did you eat?" – Seungcheol

"Why are you still awake??" – Jeonghan

"She’s not even reading our comments, betrayal." – Jun

It wasn’t just words. They really did treat you like a younger sibling in every way. If you were lost in a music show building, you called Mingyu. If you were stressed about choreography, you messaged soonyoung for tips. If a sunbae was being intimidating, Wonwoo would just... stand next to you silently until they backed off.

And whenever you had a comeback, they made sure to cheer the loudest.

"She’s so tiny!" Dino cooed when he watched your latest stage.

"That’s crazy" Vernon muttered. "She’s literally our age gap in physical form"

You rolled your eyes at them but couldn’t help the smile creeping up your face.

They acted like you couldn’t even breathe without their supervision, but you kind of… loved it? They never let you feel alone in the industry, always making sure you had people to lean on.

So, after your first music show, when you turned your head instinctively to find your members, your eyes instead landed on them— Seventeen, screaming their heads off in the crowd like proud dads at a school play.

And when you cried after winning your first award, they didn’t tease, didn’t joke.

They just hugged you one by one, whispering, "We’re so proud of you little one"

And suddenly you realized.

They weren’t just your sunbaes.

They were family.

[churipu]

"SHUT UP, MAMA." 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. fem! reader, husband! au, i made names for your children but feel free to disregard it

note. i remembered this tiktok trend, just figured i should write about how the jjk men would react to their child doing this.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo had a day off. it's rare for a jujutsu sorcerer like him — being the strongest, he's an asset to the jujutsu world. so him being in a day off is like a miracle to both you and your seven year old son, who might i say, is an exact carbon copy of your husband.

"honey, you need to put your toys away. it's almost dinner time," you said from the kitchen, gojo by your side, ready to help you with anything.

"let me take that," he sings out, grabbing two plates from your grasp — you chuckled, letting him take the white colored ceramic disk, "looks good, baby."

as you and gojo walked out of the kitchen, placing the plates on top of the dining table. gojo pulled out your seat for you. habits die hard, the male has always pulled your seat out for you since the very first date.

your son. marise gojo. a boisterous little boy, absolutely loves to play with his rocket toys, and somehow believes he's a little astronaut. there he sat in front of the TV, playing with his toys, an astronaut helmet covering his small head.

"buddy," gojo calls out to the boy, "it's dinner time, clean up your toys. mama made some good food."

when gojo's call didn't work, you tried doing it next, "marise, your food's going to get cold, honey."

the young boy didn't make any visible movements, but you heard him yell out with his high pitched voice, "shut up, mama!"

gojo looks at you briefly. i mean — as a father, he couldn't believe his own son said that. to his mother. gojo wasn't one to get mad, in fact, marise is a total daddy's boy. but he felt angry, frustrated, annoyed, all at once.

he wasted no time leaping up from his seat, approaching the young boy. his smile no longer visible; gojo was unhappy. the male used one of his hands to take off marise's astronaut helmet, tossing it aside before grabbing the young boy by his small waist.

marise didn't complain, and he still has no idea of what his father is about to do. so he just sat still in gojo's embrace — until gojo puts him down beside you, "say sorry."

marise's bright blue eyes stared up at gojo in confusion, "say sorry to mama, marise."

it wasn't "baby" or "buddy" like gojo used to address him by, and marise wasn't stupid. he knew he did something wrong, but he just didn't get what or why his father is telling him to apologize to you.

"sorry mama . . ." marise's soft voice resounds.

"do you know what you did wrong?" gojo questions sternly.

marise shook his head, his eyes watering at gojo's tone of voice, "no papa . . ."

gojo sighs, he squats down and gazes into his son's eyes, "you should never say 'shut up' to mama or papa, okay? not to anyone, 'ts not polite. don't ever do that again, now say sorry to mama for saying that."

marise nods his head and turns to look at you, his eyes watering — it's not everyday that you get to see papa gojo get angry, "'m sorry mama, i will never do that again," the young boy finally cried, letting his tears fall out of his doe eyes.

you can't help but to smile at the young boy, pulling him onto your lap to cradle him, "don't do that again, baby. 'ts not polite," your fingers grazed his chubby cheeks, wiping his tears away, "and if mama or papa tells you to stop playing and eat, what do you do?"

marise sniffled, "stop playing and eat."

"good boy," you kissed his little forehead, "go give papa a kiss."

and that marise did, gojo immediately picking the boy into his arms with a big smile, "give papa two kisses, buddy."

sure, gojo is a fun parent. but he knows how to teach his children boundaries — what to do and what not to do. he's scary when he's angry.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

megumi is the child that made you and toji think you both should have another child — fukuo is the child that made you and toji stop wanting more children. not saying that fukuo is a bad kid, but the boy is relentless.

with a pretty large age difference between megumi and fukuo with six years, sometimes megumi had to teach fukuo some manners, telling the younger boy what's right and wrong. when fukuo misbehaves, it's megumi and you to the rescue — while toji would usually chuckle it off since, well, he's a little minus on the manners part as well. but you're working on that.

toji said so himself, he wouldn't mind fukuo misbehaving on some things. but the male did set some boundaries up for both of his boys and how they should act well towards you (and him).

today, megumi is twelve and fukuo is six. both of your boys look alike, "mama, 'm gonna be staying late at school because we have a play coming, 'm gonna help my classmate decorate the stage," megumi tells you as he puts on his shoes.

"alright, baby. have a good day at school, i love you," you pressed a kiss on megumi's head, waving him goodbye.

as megumi disappears behind the front door, you walk back inside the house, "toji, wake fukuo up, please. 'm getting his breakfast ready," toji who had his eyes on the television curtly nodded, sluggishly walking towards the boy's room.

"hey, champ." toji approaches the boy, who was sleeping soundly, "your mother's made some good food f' you. if you're not gonna eat it, i'll steal your portion."

fukuo squirmed a bit, but his eyes were still shut tightly, "fukuo," toji gently shook the boy, poking his cheek.

like anyone, fukuo didn't like his sleep disturbed, "papa, stop . . ." he mumbled out, shifting his small body so his little back was facing toji, "five more minutes."

toji sighs, "five more minutes."

he then went out of the room, "he asked for five more minutes," he informs you — sitting back down on the couch.

"five more minutes," was not an unfamiliar statement to you, especially coming from fukuo who had always managed to, of course, butcher the concept of time right after. it was either an hour, or more.

so you waited five minutes, and when the young boy didn't emerge from his bedroom, you found yourself walking towards it, "fukuo? baby, come on, mama made you breakfast . . ." you turn on the light, which made fukuo subconsciously twitch.

"fukuo, come on, papa will eat your breakfast . . ." you shook the boy gently.

"shut up, mama."

you blinked in surprise, but only managed out an exasperated sigh at the boy's sudden outburst, until all of a sudden toji appears beside you — his hand wet, and he slides his palm across the boy's face with a serious look on his face.

"wake up, fukuo. i won't tell you this again," toji mutters out, "three."

oh, god. the countdown was every kid's nightmare, "two," including fukuo's — shown by how the young boy immediately sat up on his bed, "apologize to your mother."

fukuo furrowed his brows, "why?"

"you don't tell her to shut up. apologize." you were just there silently, a little shocked at how toji had become so serious when he's usually so laid-back with the boys, "say sorry and eat your breakfast."

fukuo swallows his saliva nervously and scoots over to you, "'m sorry for telling you to shut up mama, i promise i won't do that again . . ." he whispers, throwing his short arms around your neck — burying his face into the crook of your neck.

you pulled him close, carrying the young boy in your arms, "'ts okay baby, no more telling people to shut up, okay? 's not nice, it'll hurt people's feelings."

"okay mama . . . 'm sorry for hurting your feelings," fukuo pulls back slightly, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before facing toji, "'m sorry for hurting mama's feelings, papa."

toji placed his palm over the boy's face, covering it entirely, a sheepish smirk plastered on his lips, "go brush y'r teeth and eat your breakfast, mama made some pancakes."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami is such a girl dad. ever since he found out that both of you were going to have a baby girl, he's delighted. just knowing that he'd have a mini version of the both of you made his stomach churn in happiness.

hoshi. nanami hoshi is her name. it was a very peaceful six years of raising her — but they said there will be a devil baby phase, and here she was. whining, throwing tantrums over things she didn't get. it was honestly tiring, but you knew this was a risk of raising a child.

"hoshi, baby, please stand up." you cooed down at the girl who was lying down on the ground. in the middle of a mall, "mama and papa will buy that toy for you next time, i promise."

nanami was by your side, holding onto the baby stroller. his eyes were unreadable, you don't know what he had in mind, but the look he peered at your daughter was plainly and eerily terrifying.

yes, there are moments where he spoils hoshi with what she wants. toys, food, drinks, you name it. but there are times where he declines because he didn't want her to grow up too spoiled, "i wan' that toy, mama!"

you inhaled sharply, trying to slide your hand underneath her armpits to pick her up, but hoshi refused by kicking your hands away. her little kicks barely scratched you — but the people looking at your small family as they passed by definitely got a little kick to you.

"baby, people are looking at you . . ." you whispered.

"i don't care, shut up, mama!"

that was the last straw for nanami who had been silent. he grabbed your arm and tugged you up gently, nodding at you as if telling you to leave this one to him.

you backed away slightly, taking a hold of the stroller nanami had let go a few seconds prior as he squats down. forcefully but gently slipping his hands underneath hoshi's armpits, carrying her into his arms.

"mama said we will buy that toy for you next time, okay?" he sternly said, eyeing his little girl who was now silent as she gazed into his eyes, "and you never. never tell mama to shut up, do you understand?"

hoshi nods her head slowly, lips quivering at her father's sudden lecture, nanami's eyes visibly softened and he rocked her in his arms, "papa's not angry at you, hoshi. but papa wants you to know that telling mama to shut up is not polite, okay?"

again hoshi nods her head.

"go and say that you're sorry to mama," he pecked her chubby cheeks before letting her down onto the ground.

hoshi's little legs ran towards you, hugging your leg, "'m so sorry mama," she muffles into your leg, "i don't want the toy anymore, mama. 'm sorry for being a bad girl."

you squat down, nuzzling your nose to her, "you're not a bad girl, baby . . . mama and papa will buy you that next time, okay? we promise."

"okay, mama. i love you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE