#to your corded earbuds!

[homophyte]

not trying to be mean . not trying to be mean. watching an asmrtist test a kids asmr toy that comes with one of those mini mics and they test it against their own microphone that they use in all of their stuff. and the thing is the microphone is for a toy so its not good. but it sounds better than their normal micNOT TRYING TO BE MEAN. where did all the 3dios go

[wildgeese98]

Humanity really lost its way when we started making true wireless earbuds.

[xwiredearbuds2014x]

I hate the age of bluetooth! Wym I have to charge something besides my phone in order to listen to music? Wym when I’m done listening to music I have to turn my headphones off or turn off bluetooth to play videos out loud rather than just unplugging them? Wym iPhones have had no headphone jack for years??? And I have to buy something else called a “dongle” in order to plug things directly into my phone?

[harlequinfrog]

everyone tell me about your ocs i wanna hear about your ocs

[generalwombatunknown]

also when corded ear buds fall out there is little at stake, one may still be in your ear and at the very least they are still plugged in to your phone. If you go on a bike ride with bluetooth earbuds you are inviting the devil for a drink, and every pass above a storm drain is you dancing on your earbud's grave

sorry but there is no romance in bluetooth earbuds. they're very handy and nice but nothing will ever compare to sharing a pair of corded earbuds with someone to listen to music or watch a video and leaning together so the earbuds don't get pulled out. even now when i get handed a bluetooth earbud to share i lean close out of instinct. we need to bring the cords back for the love of god

[unknownarmageddon]

what if the red string of fate was really the cord of your earbuds etc etc

killer belongs to rahafwabas cross belongs to jael peñaloza pose referenced from adorkastock

[astralnymphh]

YES PLEASE. BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE?? 90’s?? SIGN ME UP. WHERE DO I PUT MY NAME??😖😖🙏

- 🩵

a/n + cw; OMGG AN EMOJI ANON i haven't seen you guys in a hot minute, but YESSS BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE!! specifically x customer reader. it's a cute duo! and let me relay why from my very scrambled 3 am jot-down. was going to make this a blurb, but it better translates through something more structured. ++ SFW! kinda mean!reader tbh (but ellie likes that), very fluffy you might squeet, quickly written, awkwardness, ellie being a nerd. [first pic from amoaeIIie on pinterest]

Imagine Ellie, in her blockbuster getup, leaning her butt into the edge of the register counter, jamming to whatever is playing on her hand-me-down walkman; earsbuds in, eyes downcast, head bopping slowing - soundly unaware of you awaiting service on your over-due rental. "Hello?" your volume divides the soft ambiance of the store, but it isn't enough to rope Ellie's mindspace from the clouds. Calling out again, "Hell-looh?" you extend beyond the cash register and wave your hand - nothing, nada.

How the hell has this girl not gotten her ass fired yet?

After numerous roadblocks, a brazen last resort comes into play. You cut around the counter briefly to take things into your own hands (literally) because you have not the time, nor the patience, for her slacking off.

Beryl eyes drop sharply to the walkman in her pants pocket when a single earbud is spooled from her ear, assuming it fell - but to her surprise, it hung low from your finger, and a glance above that finger was your face. Risen of one brow, flat-lined of your lips; impatient.

And her entire focus blanks out when you begin to speak, curtly and satirically, "Hey, I know busting out your Dad's old walkman in public makes you feel cool and whatnot, but you're on the clock." handing the slim cord back over to a stunned girl, flushed behind the pop of her freckles. Maybe your tone of voice sent her higher into the clouds, past a coven of angels, because her lips part narrowly and remain still for a single second - save two or three. Or maybe it's 'cause you specified it as her 'Dad's' which was.. spot on.

And whatever excuse she had quickly cherry-picked for you, hesitated audibly in her throat before it split from it, "O-Oh, right, shit sorry - was about to end my shift n' thought the store was empty. My bad." scrambling to stuff the other earplug in her pocket and avert all attention to you. Very eagerly.

"Looks like you've got a late fee on this one.." her pitch pummeled deeper, and coarser as she concentrates on the clunky screen she hunches slightly to use. Scrunching the freckles of her face together, hogging the blue-lit screen. Poor girl probably forgot her glasses at home. "Annnd are you looking to rent the sequel?" she peeks her auburn head from the screen and holds up the cased movie, tracing her index over the plastic cleft, tapping twice. "To this - it has a second part."

There's no denying it: she is cute - and guilt rolls your guts around for being so snippy and sullen to her earlier. But based on her demeanor growing enthused the second she saw what movie you had in hand - she doesn't seem to care a hoot.

"Out of stock," replied you, indifferent-sounding - and strking; crossed arms, bent knee, stiffly-standing. Comparable to a millpond. "Guess I won't be the only person with late fees." you take a breath to jest, shaking loose strands of hair from your eyes.

"Haha," you're no world-class comedian; that joke wasn't all that funny, but the need to hurl any affirming noise at you, was necessary. Relenting to reflex. What can she say? Love at first sight! "Yeah, that seems like the agenda these days," Ellie sighs out, molding the plump of her lip under her teeth and reshapes it into a dorky smirk. Isn't she just a sweet chocolate-box of adorability?

"Hmm, bummer."

That hum and word trips into her ears, knocking some brain-cog, and an idea limns her features; they glow wide. "Actually - um, I've got a copy of the sequel at my place. Technically it's my Dad's, but.." her pitch fluctuates, mindlessly thumbing the case between two fiddly hands. "Maybe you can - if you want, not pressuring you or anything - come over?" she throws a pointed thumb backwards, motioning a potential future. "Watch it? If you weren't planning on watching it with somebody else."

Slick trick to seeing if you're single; of course you'd watch movies with your boyfriend - or girlfriend.

"Hmmm.." you hummed longer this time, and this time it admitted the mushrooming of an almost aggravating anticipation in her belly. Like you meant to torture her with 'hmms' and nothing but 'hmms' as your answer hung high in cloudy abeyance, until, "What's the name on your tag - ah, Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie," you confirm her name twice, and speak it to enthrall her full-scale attention. Made it sound fucking sugary sweet, through a swirly whisper and a twist of your head. "If you can give me a discount, or a full wipe on that late fee, then yes. It's a date."

Light panic ensues. "Date?" she croaks and laughs it off, "I mean - pshh, guess that's one way to put it." backtracking to her hunched, elbows-on-the-counter pose.

"You put it that way."

"Yeah, I just.. didn't wanna admit that." immediately, she uncurls her spine again, relaxing her muscles to somewhat peer at you. "Sure. No more fees." Rounded eyes lost - adamant on indirectly staring at you and the space below you, because Goddess forbid a stroke of idiocy flickers through her while gawking at you.

The store runs dead-quiet in the background of your conversation, leading you to one golden question. "Your shift over after this?"

Oh damn, her cheeks are pink. "Uh-huh," bet she's oblivious to that red-hot beam nearly bursting the seams to her face, too. Nasal lines fold as a severe smile tugs, shadowed by her bent thumb poking at it. "Takin' my car?"

And that's how you pick up girls at a video store in the 90s - the Ellie Williams way.

this isn't even the full idea

[loggiepj]

Intimate Walks

Cheerleader Wanda x Nerd Fem Reader Short Stories

When you see Wanda brush her arms from the cold, you immediately take off your hoodie then place it over the girl.

The sweet gesture makes Wanda all flustered, her fingers holding the hoodie around her, letting your scent infiltrate her senses. She may ask you later what perfume you use so she can smell you everyday. She may never return this clothing.

"Thanks," Wanda murmurs, making you smile back as you slip your hands into the pocket of your jeans.

You're happy Wanda said yes when you offered earlier to walk her home, finding out the engine of her car was broken. The school is not that too far from her village, which is also next to yours anyway.

"What are you listening to?" she asks sheepishly.

You pick one of the earbuds and hands it to her, the cord hanging between the two of you. Wanda immediately puts it in her ear and listens to the melody of the song.

"It's Lunar One by Seventeen Evergreen," you reply. "It's one of my favorite songs that I cannot get enough."

Wanda nods, appreciating the song. She'll add it to her Spotify playlist once she gets home.

"It's amazing. I love the chorus part," she adds.

You two are now walking so close to each other so Wanda can listen, even your fingers are brushing every now and then. Wanda longs for you to hold her hand, but that will be for another time as she enjoys your company.

Wanda wishes her father won't have to fix her car so soon so she can get to be with you every day.

The next day she has to convince her brother Pietro not to give her a ride home for she will be late practicing for cheer. And she smiles when she sees you at the library reading a book after the practice, knowing you are waiting for her.

Author's note: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much. ❤

[haikyu-mp4]

The sun and his flower

word count; 2133 – f!reader

Hinata never really got into driving. He took his driver's licence, but never got around to buying a car after returning to Japan. So when the snow fell overnight and he overslept for practice with the Black Jackals, he had no other choice but to leave his bike and hop on a bus.

And he would forever be thankful that he did. Because that morning was the first time he saw you. You sat closer to the front of the bus, in one of those unfortunate seats turned the other way, so Hinata could watch as you bopped your head carefully to whatever music you listened to and stared out the window. Your movements didn’t quite match up with his own music, which he found annoying so he turned his off. Who still uses earbuds with a cord? he thought as he watched how the cord was tangled in with your scarf.

Even though he didn’t know the names of any particular flowers, he started comparing you to them.

So he kept catching the bus, often running briskly to the bus stop just to make sure he could get on the right one, even if it was a bit early or a bit late.

Sometimes he got a seat where he could see your face, sometimes he had to pretend to adjust something to turn and catch glances at you, and sometimes he could only pout at the top of your head over the seat. Nonetheless, he started imagining what you did after stepping off the bus. Were you a student? A florist? A musician? Or maybe you worked in some office, like Kuroo.

You always got off before him, the same stop every time, and his eyes would follow you until you were blurry because the bus moved and then you were out of sight. He would then slump back in his seat, putting his headphones on for two more stops until he could get off, jogging to make up for the warm-up time he missed.

“You ever considered getting a car?” Sakusa asked him one day as Hinata shuffled into place beside them where they were finishing warm-ups while he started them, beginning with his thighs while Sakusa rolled his shoulders back into place.

“No,” Hinata answered sharply before chuckling, struggling a bit to keep his balance in the pose he used. “I mean, the bus is cheaper.”

Atsumu scoffed. “As if money for a car should be a problem, ya can get a little golf or something if yer so worried,” he said, jumping in place to loosen up his muscles.

“I could get a car, but I don’t really need it. Think of the environment, Tsumu.” Hinata teased back, switching legs as Bokuto came from the bathroom.

“Sho!” he cheered, not minding any conversation they might have had before. Hinata kept on with his warmup beside the net while they started with Atsumu setting for their spikes. Sakusa made little comments and quickly, everyone forgot about the previous conversation. Finally, Hinata was ready to spike. Atsumu set up a few for him before they were told to get ready for team practice, everyone taking a break to fill up on water.

As Hinata dried off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, he sighed. “Actually, there’s this girl,” he said, stopping when he heard someone gasp dramatically, not sure which of his team members it was as he continued. “On the bus, she’s really pretty.”

“Don’t be shy, tell us about ‘er,” Atsumu encouraged, leaning his arm uncomfortably on Sakusa’s shoulder, a motion that was quickly denied.

So Hinata did, he got up from the bench and with unnecessary gestures, he told them about which stop you get off at and detailed the colour of your hair. He had a small discussion with himself about what word to use for the colour of your eyes, and then when he finished he looked at his friends with the sweetest smile.

Bokuto, ever the optimist, nodded encouragingly. “And?”

Hinata’s nose scrunched. “That’s it. We haven’t talked yet.”

“You take the bus every day just to stare at her? That’s not creepy at all,” Sakusa said sarcastically, ending the conversation on that note as they were called back to the court.

You didn’t mean to. Your eyes usually stayed on the scenery passing by, making up scenes in your head based on whatever music your shuffled playlist handed you, so you didn’t mean to make eye contact with the orange-haired guy when you were on your way off the bus. He sat in the seat closest to the door, and when your eyes met his, he smiled. You could have sworn it was cloudy outside, so why was the sun sitting on the bus with you this whole time? And why didn’t you notice it before?

The moment was cut short as more people were getting off, some burly man bumping your shoulder to get off and naturally pushing you along as you realised it was indeed drizzling outside. By the time you turned around to seek his warmth again, the bus doors were closing and the bus carried your sunshine away.

The day after, the volume on your earbuds was a bit lower as you stepped on the bus, looking around uncharacteristically and deflating when you realised there was no orange hair in sight. So you sat down in the seat behind where he sat yesterday and got back to looking out the window.

It wasn’t until four stops later that someone sat down beside you, and you frowned when you looked forward and saw that the bus wasn’t that full, so then you turned to whoever sat beside you. And there he was, warm just like the last time you saw him.

“Sorry, is it okay if I sit here?” he asked, loudly enough to disturb other commuters, but you couldn’t hear while your earbuds were still in. Your eyes zeroed in on his cheeks where there were tiny freckles kissed by a soft red flush, probably from running to the bus stop or something. Then you looked down, noticing how his lips were moving before his tongue ran between them, oh.

You picked your earbud out before tucking some hair behind your ear so you could see him properly, taking in a quick breath. “Sorry! What did you say?” you asked, corners of your lips tilted up.

Hinata chuckled, skipping the question of whether or not he could sit there. “What are you listening to?” he asked instead, pointing to the earbud you were rolling between your fingers.

You hesitated for a second before simply handing the earbud over, an inviting glint in your eyes as you silently let him indulge in your privacy. He smiled even brighter, making you squint slightly before he took the earbud and put it in his ear, subconsciously leaning a bit closer so he wouldn’t pull yours out.

And as he started slightly moving his head, you wondered what he was so happy about so early in the morning. If the sun’s brightest time is midday, why does it feel like it’s right here at 06.47? You chuckled silently under your breath, wondering if everyone else on the bus felt his warmth too. “I like your smile,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Hinata really liked your music, it suited you and at the same time, it was nothing like what he imagined. He didn’t listen to music that often, preferring to listen to his breathing and nature while jogging, but he could get used to this if he could share it with someone. With you.

When you took the initiative to talk more, he almost felt shy about it, lifting a hand to the back of his neck. “Thank you. I like your music,” he said, wanting to compliment you back but feeling like he couldn’t just say I like you. Because he did, he knew so little about you that it wasn’t easy to pinpoint anything, but he just liked you.

Eventually, you had to get off, so Hinata scrambled out of his seat, making your earbud fall out. Now he stood beside the seat, the two of you still connected as you held your phone and he had the earbud in. Quickly, he took it out and apologised, to which you told him not to worry before walking past him and in the heat of your fluster, you didn’t even say goodbye. You didn’t even catch his name.

The next time you sat down on the bus, you were determined to do better, exactly how Hinata was yesterday as he braced himself to talk to you. When Hinata once again stepped on the bus at his usual stop, you lifted your hand and waved at him, making him smile and come over to sit beside you. “Hey!” he greeted cheerfully.

“Hi,” you responded, very aware of your upper arm pressed against his even if there was space enough not to. You handed over one earbud for him, taking in a deep breath of courage. “You never told me your name.”

Hinata took the earbud but didn’t put it in his ear. “Shoyo. Hinata Shoyo.” He mentally cursed at how he sounded like James Bond, but every other thought dissipated when you responded with your name. He liked it. He looked at you, noticing how prettily your eyelashes swung out at the edge and how he could finally decide on your eye colour now that he saw you up close. “Pretty,” he whispered, not sure if he was talking about your name or just you.

You blushed, turning away for a moment and then looking back at him, wondering the same thing as he did. “What do you do, Shoyo?” you asked, letting his name roll off your tongue like a sour candy you weren’t sure you could handle but still felt tempted to eat up.

“I’m a professional volleyball player,” he answered, looking proud. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise.

“Really? That’s so cool!” you said, making sure you didn’t talk too loudly and disturb others on the bus. You were amazed and naturally let your eyes browse down to get a glimpse of his physique. Professional athlete. “I don’t know why I thought professional athletes didn’t use public transport.”

If you asked his teammates, they don't, he thought. Hinata nodded, mindlessly twirling the earbud in his hand, which made you take yours out and tug on the cord to put it away. “And you? What do you do?” He bit his lip lightly in anticipation, every one of his theories flashing by in his mind. He checked the screen to find it wasn’t that long until you had to get off.

“It’s boring, I work in a cafe,” you said, nose scrunching at how lame your job was compared to his.

“You don’t like it?” he asked curiously. You hummed a short tone, thinking about it.

“I kinda love it. It’s just not as cool as being a volleyball player,” you said, emphasis on the last words, which made Hinata huff out a short laugh. “I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”

“If you like it, it’s cool,” he said like there was no use arguing. And you suppose it wasn’t, because you should in fact enjoy these years of your life where you’re still figuring things out. “Can I come with you?”

You blinked at him, looking from the front of the bus and back to him. “Yes? But weren’t you going somewhere?”

“I don’t even have work today, I just got on the bus to see you,” he admitted, and you hoped your gleeful laughter covered the sound of your heartbeat.

Now you’re together all the time, but you’re not always on the bus. You’re at the cafe, taking a break and sharing a piece of cake, you’re in the park either talking and laughing or having him show you how to play volleyball and laughing even more, you’re at his place and kissing on his couch after not seeing each other all day while your music plays softly on the speakers, you’re at his game to cheer for him and then meet all his friends and perhaps even family, and you’re in a restaurant when he gives you a little silver ring to promise you two stick together even while figuring things out. Things like how to open a brand new cafe in Brazil after he airs the idea of moving back there.

Because the two of you just wanted to be together, like how flowers always seem to reach for the sun and the sun does its best to keep them warm in the limited time it has.

masterlist

/tags @hotvinimon @makkir0ll

[pepsiboyy]

CRUISE CONTROL.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader summary: with your parents arguing and the volume growing increasingly loud, you text your boyfriend matt to take you on a drive to clear your mind. warnings: established relationship, use of y/n lol, parents arguing, fluff, reckless driving if u squint a/n: i was driving home one night. really sad. and wanted to stick my head out the window. and got this idea. it's litterally just a little drabble sorry it's kinda bad but i think it's cute lowkey ANYWAY ENJOY

it was times like these where i allowed my mind to wander. staring at my ceiling, led lights on their lowest setting and alex g desperately trying to make its way into my head at full volume through my earbuds. no matter how high i turned it up, nothing tuned out the sounds of screaming and clashing and banging on the other side of the wall.

the deep circles under my eyes were particularly prominent about now. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't seem to fall asleep.

the distortion in my earbuds due to the loud volume began to annoy me and i ripped them out by the cord for some relief, but i was immediately reminded of the sound of my parents.

i quickly reached for my phone and unlocked it, going into my messages and finding matt. i began typing, attempting to get my mind away from the sound of my parents screaming.

i dropped my phone in my lap as i took a deep breath.

now for the hard part.

i carefully sat up and made my way to my closet to grab one of matt's hoodies that he had left over and pulled it over myself, keeping my pajama pants on.

i carefully slipped on some socks and checkered vans before making my way to my bedroom door.

a deep sigh escaped my lips.

gently, i pushed the door opened and tip-toed out of my room, ignoring the increasing volume of my parents shouting. i flew down the stairs and to the front door, biting my lip harshly as i slipped out and quickly shut the door behind me.

silence.

i pressed my back against the front door and slid down it, my hands covering my face as i took in a deep breath and let out a shaky breath.

all that i could hear was the soft breeze and the sound of my breathing.

the outdoors is such a peaceful place, i thought. i should come out here more often.

the sound of tires against the gravel caused me to lift my head and quickly scramble to my feet, making my way to the van in front of my home.

matt met me halfway and pulled me into a tight hug, gently resting his head on top of mine and allowing a hand to rub my upper back gently in circles.

"you okay?" he questioned softly, his voice so gentle as if i were going to crack if he spoke any louder.

"'m okay." i mumbled against his chest, gently pulling away and smiling at him reassuringly.

matt's eyes scanned my expression, and he nodded softly as he caressed my cheek and gently took me by my hand. "let's go for a ride, okay?"

-

nights like these were my favorite.

nights where matt gave me the aux, his hand on my thigh as we drove absolutely everywhere but at the same time, nowhere. flying down the road going heinous speeds, no set destination, matt and i simply had each other and that was what mattered to us most in these moments.

with all of the windows down and the music all the way up, i bit my lip as i smiled at matt.

a thought ran through my mind that i couldn't seem to resist.

my hand gently ran over matt's that was on my leg, taking his hand in my own and setting it to the side.

matt shot me a glance in confusion. "you okay?"

i smiled and nodded as i unbuckled my seatbelt.

"y/n-"

"don't worry," i smiled as i sat up and pressed a button, opening the sunroof and sitting up.

for the sake of matt's sanity, i gently held his hand and lifted my head out of the window, smiling as i felt the wind immediately hit my skin and my hair. my eyes felt like they desperately needed to close, but i didn't care.

most would think this is psycho, or i look stupid.

for some reason, each gust of air that brushed past me felt like a wave of relief.

about fifteen seconds went by and i sat back down in the car, smiling at matt who couldn't help but giggle at my expression.

"you feel better?" he questioned, and i nodded happily. "can i fix your hair?" he chuckled, and i nodded as my face grew warm.

matt, after pulling into a gas station and parking by a gas pump, gently reached over and took my stands between his fingers as he flattened them and fixed the stray ones. he gently ran his finger against my cheek and smiled at me, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips.

i smiled against his lips and gently squeezed his hand, our fingers tightly intertwined, before he pulled away and smiled at me.

"go get your gas, i'll be waiting here for you." i whispered.

matt nodded as he rolled the windows down and pressed one more quick peck to your cheek before opening the door and getting out.

i let out a deep breath as i looked at my fingers, smiling to myself.

matt always knew how to make me feel better. whether it be talking through emotions with me or as simple as just existing beside me, he was the best.

matt leaned into the car, his arms against the bottom of the rolled down window as he smiled at me warmly, and i turned to him.

"wanna spend the night tonight?" he questioned.

it was tempting, but i knew i needed to be home tonight. if my parents were going to be angry at me any night, it would be tonight.

"i'll go home tonight, but i would love to tomorrow if the offer still stands." i smiled.

he held out his pinkie with a soft smile, and i locked my pinkie with his.

"the offer is always standing for you, y/n."

-

i sighed as i undid my seatbelt.

"you gonna be okay?"

i turned to matt and nodded with a soft smile, beginning to get out of the car. matt did the same and walked with me to my doorstep, gently taking both of my hands in his once we arrived.

"call me if you need anything, or anyone to talk to.. i'll be here, okay?" he smiled.

i nodded as i let out a deep breath and leaned into matt, pulling him into a tight hug.

"thank you matt." i whispered, and matt smiled as he hugged me back tightly, hands running against my back again.

"of course, my love." he bit his lip as he pulled away and smiled at me, leaning down for one last kiss.

i hummed softly against his lips before we both pulled away.

"drive safe." i told him before opening my front door and stepping inside.

the silence was loud.

i assume my parents fell asleep.

i made my way up the stairs carefully and let out a deep sigh as i kicked off my shoes and laid against my sheets.

sometimes some loud music and company is all you need, and tonight helped me with my loud thoughts and parents. but it also helped me realize how much matt truly means to me.

i couldn't be more grateful.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Sharing His Earphones

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

It would be a long bus ride before your class arrived at their destination. You already picked out the perfect window seat for yourself while Bakugou slipped into the seat beside you. Your classmates shuffled around the place in the background.

"Got something for you," Bakugou said.

"Huh? What is it?"

Bakugou took out some corded earphones connected to his phone. He put one earbud in your ear and the other in his.

"Listen to this," Bakugou said, bumping shoulders with you. One of Bakugou's favorite songs started playing.

Your eyes lit up. "I know this one! Of course you'd like a song like this. Do you know the lyrics?"

His head snapped to yours. "I'm not singing. There's fucking people around."

You headbutted him very lightly. "We're at the back of the bus, just sing a little! I wanna hear you rap."

Bakugou quickly surveyed their surroundings to make sure all other students were already in their seat and not listening in before he said this next part.

"Dammit, you've already heard me rap before!"

"I want to hear it a thousand times more," you said, smiling.

Bakugou looked down at you, incredulously. The rap lyrics kicked in and Bakugou started begrudgingly rapping underneath his breath. You could tell he was quickly getting into it, like he always did when you two were alone. You bopped your head to the music as Bakugou's spiteful eyes didn't leave yours.

The rap part ended along with his brief performance. "There? Happy?"

"Louder! Louder!" You waved your arms. "Encore!"

"Shhhhh! Shut up!" Bakugou brought a finger to your lips. "Don't tell a fucking soul or I will murder everyone on this bus except for us."

"Encore!"

"NO!"

Another rap verse came on. This time, you started rapping. But your raps were much more playful than his. You still bopped your head to the music and nudged him with the beat. Bakugou barely reacted to your playful nudges even as the bus started moving, unwilling to entertain your silly antics. But he never tore his eyes away.

Your rap verse ended and you did a little "Ta-da!" pose.

Bakugou looked you up and down. "You done? Forever?"

You pretended to look hurt. "Was it that bad?"

"No. I just wanna listen to these songs with you in peace."

"If you wanted peace, you would've stopped being friends with me a long time ago."

You two held each other's gaze, your smiles versus his frown. You wouldn't fall for Bakugou's tsundere antics. Finally, he sighed and bumped his head against yours.

"Yeah, I know," Bakugou said, softly.

For the rest of the bus ride, you listened to all the songs on Bakugou's phone. A lot of love songs reminded you of him. Some of the songs described your relationship quite well, including your underlying romantic feelings for the boy. What's weirder, a suspicious number of songs happened to describe your appearance in particular, and quite favorably too. When you pointed them out, Bakugou skipped ahead to the next song, which would sometimes have the exact same issue.

"It's like the song is describing me!" you said.

"You'll never hear it again," Bakugou said, frantically skipping yet another song.

"...But I liked that song," you said, poking your fingers together.

Bakugou stared at you. You stared back.

"Fine." Bakugou pulled out his phone to repeat the last song and you got giddy hearing the lyrics describe your appearance again.

"This song is soooo me," you said, dancing in your bus seat. "Do you listen to this all the time?"

"Sometimes..." Bakugou said, not meeting your eyes. "...You got any songs that describe me?"

"Maybe a few that describe some hotheaded individuals, sure."

His head sharply turned to yours. "So you only got ones describing my flaws?!"

"You wanted something else?"

Your innocent expression and question caught him off-guard.

"I just wanna see what songs remind you of me," Bakugou said, for only you to hear.

Bakugou's current song ended and he paused the next one before it could play. You took his earphones and connected it to your phone instead, playing songs from your own playlist.

"Let me show you," you said.

Then, one of your favorite love songs started playing.

(The last line might seem more or less romantic depending on what your favorite love songs are... XP)

[hitomisuzuya]

What about a Scara who listens to music while in class and one day when you go to ask him what he listens to he gives you his earbuds and it’s a video of you moaning

Scaramouche x fem! reader. Smut. This request is just 😳😳😌

You had to admit, you were always incredibly curious about just what kind of music Scaramouche listened to while every one was busy taking notes or listening to the teacher intently.

For awhile you were convinced that maybe he was just wearing earbuds to wear earbuds, like wearing them helped him think or something because he always got nearly perfect grades.

And maybe you wanted to make him a playlist of songs you'd think he would like. You'd been swallowing your heart in your throat for weeks before you got up the nerve to walk over and ask him that burning question.

What was he listening to?

Scaramouche felt a hand tug on his sleeve. You looked so shy, with your cheeks all flushed. You always looked so cute when you were shy. "Yes?" He asked, putting his headphones taking his ear buds out of his ears. "You look like you have something rattling around and around in that pretty little head of yours," He poked his index finger on your forehead.

He absolutely loved it when you pulled so shyly on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Well, I--" You stammered, looking away as you fidgeted your fingers. The blush on your cheeks darkened at his teasing. He smirked, raising an eyebrow. His smirk always made your heart flutter, and your knees feel weak. He gently flicked your forehead.

You made the cutest noise of shy. "I was wondering what music you always listened to during class. I wanna--" You paused, getting up the nerve to meet his gaze, "make you a playlist of songs that you like."

The smirk on Scaramouche's face widened. "Oh? I listen to the sweetest sounding music of all during class," He said cryptically, taking his earbuds and putting them in your ears.

He pressed play on his phone, handed it to you and waited.

At first, the noise in your ears was soft, and you thought it sounded familiar, You narrowed your eyes in concentration, your finger idly playing with the cord of his ear buds.

Your eyes widened when the sound got louder. You first grasped what the noises were before you completely saw what was on the screen, having a delayed reaction of sorts.

The sounds were of sheets rustling, and you moaning. Your eyes widened when realization caught up with you all the way.

There you were, on your bed, bucking your hips desperately into your fingers. You were writing on the bed, your moans growing more desperate and shameless sounding. His name sounding from your throat, your fingers squelching in and out of you as you desperately tried to hit your sweet spot.

Your struggle was a delight for him to watch.

"Sc-Scara-" You looked up at him, thinking it wasn't possible for the blush to get any darker on your cheeks. "When did you--how--"

Scaramouche reached out and plucked one ear bud from your ear. He leaned down, putting his lips close to your ear. "Wouldn't you like to know," He purred, putting an arm around you.

He could feel your knees getting weak for him. "Now, how about we skip classes, and I make you squirt on my fingers in a way that you never can seem to do on your own. You. Poor. Thing."

Scaramouche was going to enjoy adding this video to his catalog. The sounds of your moans, whines, and screams of pleasure as his fingers disappeared in and out of your cunt was going to sound just as sweet.

One of his many favorites by far.

[fabled-fiction]

i see you write for hobie brown omg i like audibly giggled when i read that 😭 i’m so excited he’s finally getting his recognition !!

if you write for him, maybe some relationship hcs?? (gn reader would be perfect!) bonus points if reader and hobie are around the same height

tysm!!

Hobie Brown Relationship Headcanons

Summary: Headcanons for Hobie Brown in a relationship. From PDA to your private moments to how he acts when you aren’t around

Word Count: 961

Warnings: Talk of injury, POSSIBLE SPIDERMAN ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS (I’m just putting this here to be careful)

A/N: I hope this is good!! I wanted to include bits and pieces of what I thought could be a glimpse into some of the softer parts of Hobie!!

🕷️ First of all, this man is a charmer

🕷️ One of his love languages is words of affirmation and trust me this man is always finding ways to compliment any and every part of you

🕷️ His goal is to show how much he appreciates you…but also he just loves seeing how hot your face can get. How flustered he can make you.

🕷️ He gets a confidence boost everytime ngl

🕷️ Especially in public.

🕷️ “Aye, ‘ow good does (Y/N) look?”

🕷️ Once you’re settled into the relationship he will never call you by your name-atleast not fully

🕷️ He expects the same. Call him Hobart and he will be visually confused and apauled

🕷️ “ Im sorry, who? I dont see a ‘obart in the room wif us.”

🕷️ Its always nicknames of your name.

🕷️ His go to pet name is “babes”

🕷️ On a seperate note, Quality time is also a super big thing whenever you get together

🕷️ Cause sometimes he’ll feel bad that his time is essentially split into thirds. Between being Spiderman on his Earth, a part of the Spider Society, and his time as Hobie Brown

🕷️ So he finds any and every opportunity to just soak you in

🕷️ Obviously you have the swing dates. Where he’ll usually take you to the top of whatever building has the best view for the night and have a picnic

🕷️ But thats usually for special occasions.

🕷️ Your usual spot it cuddled up with each other either just watching TV or a movie or sharing earbuds.

🕷️ His favorite is when you’re just doing your own things but together. Being in eachother’s presence

🕷️ Normally he’ll be tuning or playing his guitar, writing down cords that work well together while you have a book or sketchbook in your hand

🕷️ When it comes to late nights together, sleepovers and what not his favorite thing is when you two are cuddling.

🕷️ His favorite thing is to hold your face

🕷️ Because of his spider senses he gets to memorize the smallest of details on your face

🕷️ Also this man, if you get his head on your chesr earlier on in the cuddle session he is OUT

🕷️ Your heart beat is his personal lullaby. His security. It calms him down. Especially if he’s having trouble sleeping after a particularly rough patrol. Expect him to just haul your ass onto the bed and just bury himself into you.

🕷️ Also this man is not SUPER into the traditional PDA, dont expect to get any long kisses from him in public or you sitting in his lap.

🕷️ He has his own form of PDA though. He ALWAYS has to be close to you.

🕷️ If someone is standing next to you? No they’re not. Suddenly he’s (not so subtly) making his way back into HIS spot next to you and then standing shoulder to shoulder.

🕷️ This is something he will not move on, his spot is next to you and your spot is next to him. Whatever surface he is laying on or sitting on he expects you to be next to him or sitting between his legs

🕷️ He’s not a full on hand holder (the most you’ll get is a pinky hold) but he is the type to either always have his arm on you SOMEWHERE. Whether that's resting his elbow on your shoulder, arm around your shoulders. He’s just always touching you in some way.

🕷️ He’s always slinging his body over you, smothering you. THATS his favorite form of PDA.

🕷️ Or if he’s just feeling especially territorial he'll have his hand in your back pocket.

🕷️ Its not because of any superficial reason, this guy is the opposite from that. He’s just solid in the relationship, and prefers the super intimate physicalities to be just between you two.

🕷️ Unbeknownst to him though, its not really needed because this mf is ALWAYS staring at you with the most lovey dovey love sick puppy eyes.

🕷️ Whenever he talks about you to Miles or Gwen or Pavitr or Miguel…really anyone that will listen

🕷️ They usually have to tell him to get back on topic.

🕷️ Also always expect to be wearing SOME article of his. Its his way of…making sure he’s always with you. Totally not because he’s vocal about you being his ans when he’s not with you others gotta know.

🕷️ And he’s the same way. He’s always got one of your jackets around his waist or one of your tees. Anything you’ll let him wear (steal) to show off that he’s yours. It gives him the biggest shit eating grin.

🕷️ If you’ll let him, he’ll go as far as to take an old tee you were planning on getting rid off and add a patch of it to his vest.

🕷️ Also uhmm…this mf never stops texting you. ESPECIALLY if he’s away in another universe he’s sending selfs.

🕷️ He expects selfies back, and it gets to the point where his wallpaper is a collage of all the selfies you’ve taken and he’s taken…candids or not.

🕷️ Its also usually the most unreadible shit, because he’s convined he can text and swing which you’ve told him NOT to do

🕷️ On the topic of his wreckless swinging, you two have a rule

🕷️ He doesn’t want you involved with his Spider stuff. He’s got that part of the stereotypical spiderman mentality. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

🕷️ But for your sanity, any injury he has you take care of (if you can). If gives you some sort of peace of mind to know how he’s going in and what to expect.

🕷️ Ever since you both got together he’s been more careful.

🕷️ Cause he’s actually got something to come back to on his earth.

🕷️ When you get together he’s more passionate about his cause

🕷️ Because now he has a much more personal goal to work for.

[superblysubpar]

"Summer Sunday nights we'd sink into our seats right as they dimmed out all the lights. A technicolor world made out of music and machine. It called me to be on that screen and live inside each scene."

Just Another Day of Sun

steve harrington x fem!reader | a sunday kind of love story

summary: a stranger and you have the same sunday rituals

3,011 words

My blog is 18+ | cw: slight descriptions and/or mentions of anxiety and anxiety symptoms - and specific anxiety about phone calls, descriptions of big feelings about the big world and our meaning and purpose / mentions of having a father, mother, brother, and a couple familiar friends - though none described physically or in depth / small mention of cat allergy / alcohol mention, use

James Taylor’s voice cracks, it skips, and then it’s gone.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Focused on turning the cord in it’s jack, you don’t realize your question meant for your ancient Zune’s ears only, was timed perfectly with a lull in espresso machines, orders, and even music. A gift from the god of irony as an opportunity for everyone to stop their clinking of spoons in cups, for the laughter of a joke to trail off and prepare for another, presents itself while your question lingers in the air and then finally a pop playlist transitions to an even more annoying track overhead. 

Eyes blink at you, heads turn, and your cheeks warm as you shove the earbuds and device into your backpack in precisely the same way you’d bargain put you into this predicament. Your father’s voice warbles in your ears about taking care of possessions if you wanted them to last. 

You shove them harder into the bulging pack and zip it fast and dangerously close to the cord in a blatant act of revenge and defiance. 

It seems the universe is done with it’s cruel irony (for the time being) when the barista calls your name with a sigh fit for someone much older who’s lived a much longer life. As you grab your coffee they add on a dull and deeply dreary, “Have a nice day.” that makes you feel like they don’t want you to have a nice day at all, not even in the slightest. 

A quiet, “Thanks, you too,” slips past your lips, but the angsty teen is already popping a lid on another cup and calling out some other name with an equal, if not more, amount of disdain dripping from each letter. 

As your sunglasses slide over your eyes and cinnamon hits your nose, a pleasant low toned voice tells them thanks, to have a great rest of theirs too, though much louder than your pitiful response. 

Your palm meets cool glass as you push the door open with a sigh, almost masking the murmured thanks from the man behind you as you hold it open for him. His keys jangle on a carabiner attached to his belt loop when he grabs the door from you, looking over his shoulder with a smile to hold it for the next person. A small, “Mhm”, hums out of you as your fingers hook into your backpack straps and the coffee rises to your lips once more. 

Without James’ voice crooning in your ears and distracting your brain, thoughts have more room to venture, to take roots, to swell and consume. Only making the walk from the coffee shop to the book store that much longer, and far less enjoyable than it normally is. The lyrics and the steady beat of a song, the magic of instruments coming together with a voice in your eardrums is an unsatisfied craving, a crutch far more addicting than the coffee in your hand. 

When there’s music playing, it’s easy to slip into daydreams, to pretend it’s a soundtrack to a movie that someone’s enjoying somewhere. Easy to imagine scenarios of yourself on a big screen, with rhyme and reason, with a plot - a beginning, a middle, and an end that’s purposeful, well thought out. 

And if it’s all a part of some grand plan, some story the audience is privy to that you aren’t, you’re able to conclude that your purpose may be for someone else to relate to you. You are a lesson, a theme, a comfort they’ll curl up in front of when they’re feeling exactly how you’re feeling right now. When they need the reminder it gets better. When they need the reminder they’re not alone.

But, you don’t have your music today. 

So there is no soundtrack, there is no reason, there is only the great big world full of great big questions full of billions of living things, yet you are alone. 

At least, that’s what your brain wants you to think. 

So when a car drives by blaring a song that reminds you of him, you work against that pesky brain and you text your brother, asking if he has any new music he’s enjoying lately. A few moments later, the bookstore just around the corner, your phone dings with a link - “The Good Shit - Part 2” a playlist from him and a text that says:

“I require your thoughts and concerns next Friday over pizza, please. And I promise there’s only two screamo angsty songs.”

It dings again.

“Okay, four.”

The smile rests easy on your face as you reach the rolling carts lining the sidewalk. The sun reflects off of the glass, and your fingers glide over it it when the gray kitten sitting in its rays presses her nose to you from the other side. Her mouth parts in an inaudible meow and you tap your fingers gently before moving on to feeling the pages graze the pads of them. 

Despite being in the fresh air, the smell is all consuming. It’s that perfect smell that no candle, no matter how good, can fully capture. Old but not musty, somehow reminding you of a lake and cool breezes but nothing dank or dark like water damage would normally grant. Soft covers and broken bindings that makes books thwop open over your thighs as you crouch in a squat to figure out if something piques your interest enough to purchase.

Your phone doesn’t last long in the pocket it was returned to after messaging your brother when you find a book of poetry. There’s a handwritten note on the inside cover that your fingers brush, yearning to know who Morgan is and where she is now, and if she’s the one who wrote on the pages, who underlined and dog earred, or if it was someone before or after her. 

A particular poem catches your eye, your lips part as you read it, though no words escape them. Something in your chest aches, and you snap a photo of it, sending a message to her of the image and a single line that says ‘thinking of you’ and slip the book on top of the worn and well loved copy of Franny and Zooey you’ve already discovered and claimed for yourself and the romantic comedy for your mom.

The door chimes as you make your way to the counter to purchase your finds, though not without a proper hello and a scratch behind the new store kitten’s ears, her purrs seeming to echo amidst the quiet shelves. 

“Hey little lady,” you whisper as she nuzzles into your fingers and lets out a soft meow. The space between her ears begs to be kissed as she paws at your thumb and you murmur, “Don’t give me that look, you know I can’t. My face’ll get all red and puffy and we don’t want that, do we?”

She hops off of the bookshelf without warning and darts into the aisle, a hand grabs a coffee to go cup from the ground just as she pounces and he taunts, “Oooh, so close. Maybe next time kiddo.”

The kitten weaves in and out of his legs as he stands and faces away from you, carefully stepping as she follows and meows and he speaks to her again, something that you can’t quite make out, and you frown. 

Traitor. 

And you’re not alone in this thought, the cashier smiles at you as you set your books next to the old register and she muses with raised eyebrows, “I think you have competition.”

“Nah, she just wants him for his coffee. I’m still number one.”

The cashier smiles at something over your shoulder as she punches in the book totals, and you turn to see for yourself.

He squats slowly, outreaching his hand towards her from a few feet away, speaking softly. His carabiner jangles and you realize it’s the same man from the coffee shop when he talks in the same low and soothing tone as the cat hears the sound too. 

“Oh?” He pulls the keys from the belt loop and jangles them in front of her as she steps closer and closer, “We like keys?”

His cheek pulls up in a grin, pushing two freckles that dot it up as he gets to pet her. 

“Careful,” the cashier calls out to him with a fondness, “She’ll steal them and you’ll never see them again.”

The stranger turns to face you both and your breath catches from his laugh before his attention is back on the kitten, who flops over and lets him fawn over her while she purrs. 

The cashier holds out your books to you with a smug grin. “Still think you’re number one?”

“Yes,” you nod determined, voice quieter as you add on, “Coffee and carabiners and cheek freckles will come and go, but I am a sure thing every Sunday, and she knows it.”

She hums and nods, something glinting in her eyes as she says, “I’ll see you next week.”

Leaving your little oasis is easier than it was getting there. 

Despite no soundtrack still, the coffee is in your system, and the energy of the bookstore envelopes you, the smell lingers on your clothes, letting you can carry a little piece of its calm and comfort with you to keep going. 

Soon your backpack bulges no longer, the blanket rolled out over a perfect spot of grass in the park, your notebooks and books and pens surround where you lay on it. A small bag of peaches and cherries you snagged from the little farmer’s market between here and the store and an iced tea fuel your writing for a good hour.

It feels good, like the words aren’t sitting on the tip of your tongue, but jumping off of it headfirst like a diving board and the page their pool. Without your music though, it’s easy for small thoughts to attempt to linger. They make the water a little murky, some of the words peeking over the board to see just how high they have to fall before they take the leap. 

The rewrite of one sentence in particular has you wondering if that feeling ever goes away. If you will ever stop doubting you’ve made the right choice. What if one sentence becomes your defining moment? The line that breaks the script, the pitch, the story? Even worse, what if it’s all of the lines? What if you’re not as good as you think? Who are you to think you can do this? 

But an image of a little girl in a chair too big for her staring up at a screen that glows while a long and seemingly never ending list of names scrolls, and another who’s in bed with a book light and telling her parents one more chapter till the sun is starting to rise, has you roll your shoulders back and make your brain think of different questions. 

What if you write a story that changes someone’s life? What if you write a story that gives someone their big break? What if you write a story that provides jobs, makes dreamers, encourages and supports hope and love? What if you write a story that makes even one person in this great big world, with great big questions, feel a little less alone?

So you keep writing, and the sun slants over your body in different squares and triangles as it shifts in the sky and the breeze blows your pages and kisses your cheeks and you think about the movies and writers you dream of making and whom you aspire to be like. 

When you bite into a second peach, your eyelashes flutter closed, tongue catching juice on your bottom lip, and you don’t think twice about reaching for your phone. 

You do, however, think twice about your text, over-analyzing a joke about a peach as thick and juicy as how you want your ass to be. But instead you opt for:

Do you remember when you said something about peaches, I can’t remember exactly, but something about searching your whole life for the right one, but knowing that none will ever live up to the one you just had and you’re depressed you’ll never taste that again?

Her dots appear and then a message of:

“Of course. I’ll never forget that peach.”

You smile and type back:

“I think I just found mine.”

The phone starts ringing, her contact photo filling the screen and making you smile wider. Though your thumb hesitates, you take a deep breath and answer. 

“Hello?” Your fingers fiddle with the grass in front of you, eyes glancing around the park and catching on one person in particular.

“Hi,” she says, and you swear you can hear the smile, and you hate that she isn’t close enough to be having this conversation in person. Especially when she tacks on, “Tell me about this peach.”

Your laugh is real, and present, and happy, and the stranger you’re staring at looks up at the sound.

The same messy brown hair flops over his forehead, his body laid out on his own blanket just a ways from yours. A bag of pea pods rests next to folded arms that hold a book, those same two freckles lift as he smiles at you with a nod as you look down from being caught ogling. 

“Right,” you clear your throat, “The peach. So…”

Which is why, much later, you snap a picture of the sunset from the patio. The sky looks exactly like the peach you’ll never have again. The perfect combination of oranges and pinks merging with blue to make a deep gold and maroon, hand painted sort of scene, that pairs perfectly with the glass of red wine you’re sipping. You send it to them with the words “Are you kidding me?”. 

You’re mesmerized by the sky above the twinkling marquee across the road and as the colors shift once more, you lift your phone to snap another photo, knowing it won’t ever look half as good as it does in person. The slow of dark jeans and white sneakers to your right on the sidewalk have you dropping your phone.

“Go ahead-“

“No, take your-“

Both of you speak and stop at the same time.

The stranger from the coffee shop, the bookstore, and the park stands in front of you, blinking. Up close, you can spot even more freckles than the two dotting his cheek, noticing another pair that rest just above the collar of his white tshirt. His eyes sparkle, and remind you a little of honey and cinnamon and the perfect coffee you had this morning. 

He raises his hands in surrender and you swallow at the glint of a silver bracelet that matches the chain around his neck, more freckles accenting tanned skin and muscular arms. 

“I swear,” he laughs, “I’m not stalking you.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Your lips purse and your eyes narrow. 

He grins as his hands slowly fall, his tongue darts out over his lower lip before he speaks again. 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe because you’re stalking me, and so naturally, you’d assume I’m lying and doing the same thing.”

A scoff and a laugh mix inside of you and tumble out and you shake your head, voice rising, “What?! You have gotten to every place today after me. So how could I possibly be the stalker and not the stalkee?”

His head is shaking no already, before you even finish the question. But he waits till you’re finished and points at you. “Nope. I got to the park first. And I do this every Sunday, so maybe you’ve been quietly watching me and formulated this pla-“

“No, no, no,” your hands wave as you cut him off, laughing, “I do this every Sunday.”

He narrows his eyes this time, his smile contagious as he asks, “Why don’t I believe you?”

It’s here, as this man smiles at you, and you smile at him, and the sunset is perfect, that you wish for the music most of all. 

Because you shrug and somehow think to say, “Well, if I was stalking you, I’d probably know your name.”

He nods, his grin settling in a smaller, though still just as charismatic of a smile. “Fair,” he sticks out his hand and you shake it as he says, “Steve Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you Steve the stalker Harrington,” you reply, telling him your own name too. 

It’s here, on this patio sidewalk, his hand only just starting to slip out of yours, that you think you don’t need it, because you can almost hear it. The music that’s supposed to tell you how to feel, to tell you this isn’t real, this doesn’t happen to you - to real people. To remember it, cherish it, feel it.  

Because then he says your name and looks at the theater, then back at you, “If I were the stalker, I feel like I’d know if you were going to Casablanca alone, and if you were going alone, that there wasn’t anyone who’d be upset if I asked if I could sit next to you during it? Maybe walk you home afterwards?”

He rocks back on his heels, cheeks flushed a little pink, but a hopeful smile at the prospect of your answer to his very forward questions. 

It could be bravery, or maybe insanity, that has you playing along, “I think the only person that might have a problem with it, is this guy that’s been following me around all day, maybe you know him?” Steve smiles as you talk with your hands, then snap your fingers and point at him, “He actually looks a lot like you.”

But maybe it was because, though muffled from your bag, James Taylor’s voice decided in that pause between Steve's hopeful question and your 'what if' fueled leap of an answer, to return. The music and lyrics of Golden Moments unmistakable, and the message clear. 

You weren’t finishing this Sunday alone. 

AN: Quite literally one of the most self indulgent things I’ve ever written. Literally, as just one example, the image in the header is of a theater in Minnesota. If you’ve followed BICFTF, that theater, is the very theater my parents were on their way to when their car slide on the ice and my dad protected my mom when they had been dating. I took part of my engagement photos in front of it. I saw all three Lord of the Rings there for my very first time watching (in one sitting!). Anyways, the point is - There’s a whole lot of ME in this, and while I mainly wrote it for myself, I really wanted to share it and this world I’ve come up with. I came up with this little AU idea while tipsy on peach margaritas and feeling quite sad. I wanna thank @palmtreesx3 and @curiositydooropened and the lovely anons who sent messages and indulged my need for comfort in a fictional man. It meant so much to me & made getting to another day of sun much easier 💛 . And I can’t quite ever thank @loveshotzz and @sweetsweetjellybean enough, their constant patience, encouragement, love and friendship - who they are, are at the core of my rhyme and reason.

[cheollipop]

just a warm-up

navi | taglist

pairing: athlete!jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, a dash of fluff bc woo and reader are in love <3

wooyoung was weak to your compliments, so when you mentioned how good red looked on him, your peaceful lunch turned into a little warm-up for his upcoming game.

warnings: soft dom!wooyoung, public sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, gagging (with fingers), praise, nicknames (pretty girl, sweet girl, dirty girl, baby; woo), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f), praise, some begging, a little bit of aftercare

A/N: I'm ngl I saw that picture and my fingers started typing on their own (after i threw up and screamed into my pillow for an hour straight). I believe this was the fastest I've ever written anything. and it's all @hwaightme 's fault (you enabled me, and now everyone has to suffer the consequences).

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

The soft melody strummed steadily in your ear, the corded earphones tugging slightly every time you leaned forward to bite into your lunch. Wooyoung held on to the other earbud, securing it in his ear while his other hand tapped at his phone. Looking over at him, you chewed your lunch while admiring his side profile – the curve of his nose bridge, the soft flutter of his eyelashes every time he blinked, the single mole gracing his high cheekbone, the sharp edge of his jawline, and most importantly, his freshly dyed hair. Your fingers reached out to brush the red strands off his face before you could think twice, smiling when he twisted his head towards you, wide eyes blinking back at you before turning his phone off and placing it on the desk by your lunch box.

“I really like this new colour on you,” your words sent a wave of warmth to his face, a soft red spreading over the soft skin to match his hair.

“You were against it at first, though,” Wooyoung teased, leaning into your space and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, I’m not anymore,” you ran your fingers through his hair, stopping at the back of his neck and keeping your hand there. “You look really sexy like this, Woo.”

Wooyoung leaned in even closer, sucking the grain of rice stuck to the corner of your lips into his mouth before burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm, go on, tell me more,” he muttered against your skin.

You scratched at his nape, eliciting a soft hum from the man, leaning in to whisper directly into his ear – knowing just how much your words affected him. “You know, it took everything in me not to get on my knees and suck you off in front of Yunho this morning..." You felt Wooyoung gasp against your neck, so you pushed it even further, wanting to see a brighter red painting his cheeks. "I can’t wait to sit in the audience later and watch everyone swoon over my beautiful boyfriend, knowing that I’m the only one who will get to fuck him later.”

Wooyoung growled into your skin, his ears flushed and his hands beginning to wander over your body. He gripped your hips with one hand, dragging your chair closer to him with the other. When he deemed you close enough, his fingers inched their way up your thigh until and fiddled with the hem of your skirt, dipping under to tease at the soft skin. You giggled at his ministrations, cupping his cheek and moving his head away from you to look into his eyes, taking pleasure in the warmth coating his face.

“What are you doing, Woo?”

“It doesn’t have to be later," he looked at you with hooded eyes, glazed over with lust, his hands squeezing at the your hips and waist. "You can fuck me now."

You ignored the rush of heat coursing through your body and straight down to your core, shifting on your seat and making Wooyoung’s grip on you tighten, a subtle smirk curling his lips. You knew your praise was Wooyoung’s greatest weakness, but now, you've come to realize that there were consequences to using that power so recklessly.

“Woo, there’s people around, and- and you have a game later!” You tried to reason with him, but he only pushed you back against the backrest, hovering over you until his face was mere inches from yours, his warm breath blowing against your mouth.

“Then I better start warming up, don’t you think?”

—

Wooyoung had you bent over the desk, panties around your ankles, your skirt flipped over and bunched around your waist so he could watch his cock pound into you, the skin of your ass rippling at the impact. His fingers danced around in your mouth, pressing against your tongue before pushing down your throat – using the need to remain quiet as an excuse to feel you gag around him.

“Ah- this pussy, fuck. Taking me so well,” he grunted in your ear, leaning over you until his chest was flush against your back. You moaned around Wooyoung’s fingers, your knees shaking as his cock pressed against your g-spot every time he pumped his length into you.

He pushed his pants further down his legs until the fabric gathered around his knees, allowing him more space to move, the slide of his cock against your fluttering walls making your back arch under him, jolts of pleasure surging through your abdomen.

Wooyoung recognized the signs of your impending orgasm and slowed down to a laggard grind, rocking his hips against yours and basking in the muffled moans sending ardent vibrations down his fingers as he persistently pressed his cockhead against your favourite spot. “Is my sweet girl going to come?” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, growling lowly at the line of spit connecting them to your lips, pulling his length out halfway before pressing back into your cunt. The moan that left your mouth was downright sinful, his cock twitching inside you and his fingers – still slick with your spit – squeezed your cheeks together and twisted your face towards him while he continued his slow, torturous thrusts. “Shh, there’s people around... or do you like that? Does my dirty girl want them to know how well this tight pussy is taking my cock?”

“W-woo, baby, please- nghhh, I’m so close-” you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts, trying to chase your high, receiving a firm slap to your thigh as Wooyoung’s hands gripped your hips to keep you in place.

“Be good,” he bit down on your shoulder, sliding one of his hands under your shirt and bra, tweaking your nipple between his thumb and index while he swiped his tongue over the marks his teeth had left. ”Answer my question. Do you want the people outside this room to know how I’m 'gonna fuck you full of my cum, hm?”

“Y-yes, yes! I do, I want them to know h-how good your cock feels inside me, please, Woo- hnnnghh!” Spreading your legs further apart with his knee, Wooyoung began to piston his hips into you, his thrusts sloppy as he chased his orgasm, panting and groaning in your ear while his hand squeezed your tit mercilessly, his thumb flicking your clit desperately. “I’m gonna- fuck, Woo, I- aa-ahhh!”

You writhed under Wooyoung as your orgasm finally washed over you, your thighs shaking violently while he continued hammering his cock into your abused cunt, breathing a series of airy moans into your ear when you squeezed around his throbbing length. He exhaled a mixture of curses and repetitions of your name, shuddering and moaning when he finally emptied his load inside you, the warmth of his release spreading through your belly as ropes of cum painted your walls. He pulled his cock out until only the tip remained trapped between the tight ring of your entrance before pushing back in, fucking his cum into you with shallow thrusts. Your knees quivered, your hips trying to pull away from him as overstimulation sent shocks of pain to accompany the pleasure of being split open by Wooyoung’s cock.

“W-woo, give me a s-second- nghh-” your hips jolted when Wooyoung's thumb brushed over your swollen clit, gathering the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back inside your cunt alongside his cock, hissing when his thumb slid over the underside of his length.

“You’re so hot, ah- so fucking beautiful when you're stuffed full of me. I just want skip the game and f-fuck you dumb on my cock until you’re crying and begging,” Wooyoung muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. He leaned over you, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, running his tongue over it before whispering, “if we win, will you let me fuck you the way I want? Hm, please baby, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, can I?”

Your brain was fuzzy, Wooyoung’s words echoing in the back of your mind – the pleasure of his cock and finger stretching you open driving you towards a mental blank, his cum warming your insides, some leaking out of you and onto the desk. “Yeah, yes- god, Woo. You can use me... fuck me all you want- h-haahh-” You mewled desperately, moaning pathetically as another orgasm punched through you without warning, shaking your entire body. You gripped the edge of the desk and rocked your hips against Wooyoung, extending the shocks of pleasure shooting through your abdomen and curling your toes. He left you to ride out your high, bearing through the overstimulation as he watched your ass bounce on his cock, your arousal mixed with his cum coating his length.

Wooyoung kissed over your clothed shoulders, smoothing a hand over your lower back as he pulled out of your used cunt, quickly dressing himself before tending to you. You exhaled deeply, slumping against the desk while Wooyoung wiped your thighs with a tissue before pulling your panties up and your skirt down to cover you.

He squatted by the desk and brushed his knuckles over your cheekbone, cupping your jaw delicately – the smile gracing his lips so soft, it contradicted his actions five minutes ago. Wooyoung leaned in, peppering loving kisses all over your flushed face, brushing the matted strands off your forehead and pressing his lips to the slick skin.

“I need to meet up with the rest of the team to prepare for the game,” he smiled at you, his eyes glimmering with adoration as they took in your content expression; and yetzm, you should have never believed this man had the ability to be chaste for even a second. The sly smirk playing at his lips was enough proof of that. “Finish your lunch, okay? You’re going to need the energy when you’re screaming my name after I win that trophy later.”

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[remlionheart]

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

Marinade

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ when i first decided that i wanted to write some yuuji angst, i had a v vague idea in my head of what it might look like, but when i tell you that this fic took me for a ride, i mean it. angel boy yuuji itadori finds himself mourning his 22nd birthday rather than celebrating it. sitting alone at a bar, overwhelmed by grief when he's suddenly greeted by the one part of his past that doesn't hurt to look at. 4.9k words. hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff, slice of life, shonen, literally everything and anything going on here. i was crying and smiling and rooting for these characters and i'm not sure that i'll ever emotionally recover from writing this, but i'm really happy w the outcome so lemme know whatcha think, luv you ♡ (also shoutout to my girl @bratbby333 for always being my biggest hype-woman and proofreading for me when i've looked at a fic for too long and start to hate it) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

now playing: marinade by dope lemon

Yuuji hadn't seen you since middle school.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He remembered you as the girl who had pretty handwriting and a serious affinity for the color blue. The girl who would leave pastel origami hearts on his desk without ever saying why. The girl who'd hide away in the library during lunch instead of eating with the rest of the class. The girl who he'd watch on the bus ride home with a sinking feeling in his stomach, catching the way your eyes glossed over each time the driver stopped in front of your house.

He learned how much you loved to read and write that year. Glancing at you from across the study hall room, secretly jotting down what number was printed along the spine of your book so that he could get you the next one in the series. He'd leave it on your desk before class started, the same way you did with his origami hearts. Never saying a word about it.

He watched you fill countless journals, your face always so concentrated as you poured your thoughts into them. He’d stop by the shopping plaza near his house after school every time he noticed that you’d reached the last page, spending his allowance to make sure there was a new one waiting for you the next morning. Each one he gave you, a different shade of blue.

But it wasn’t until the last day of eighth grade that he finally mustered up the courage to break the not-so-silent-silence the two of you had been sharing for the last 6 months. He sat down next to you, introducing himself even though it went without saying. His eyebrows furrowed a bit when you wordlessly slipped out an earbud and handed it to him. A rare, but visible smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He held it in his palm for a moment, his eyes drifting along your face as he brought it to his ear, letting the tangled white cord tether the two of you together.

He’d never heard the song before, but he still remembered thinking how fitting it was. Dreamy and melodic - just like you. The singer's voice was full of raw sincerity, adding another layer of atmospheric haze to the already heady beat while the chorus gradually filled the space between you.

He didn't have the right words to explain it at the time, but he felt lucky as he watched you stare out the window that day. Lucky to know how pretty you looked when the sunlight caught the side of your face. Lucky to know which fantasy novels you liked to spend hours losing yourself in. Lucky to know what type of music you listened to when you were deep in thought. Lucky, just to be sitting next to you.

His heart jumped around in his chest when your eyes met his again. Both of you exchanging the same somber smile as you realized what road you were on.

He handed his half of the headphones back to you, secretly relieved at how calm you still seemed despite the fact that your stop was next.

“That song,” he hesitated, the lyrics still swirling through his mind. “what was it –”

But his question came to an abrupt end as the bus began to brake, a new and overwhelming warmth dancing through his veins when he noticed how close you suddenly were to him.

His pupils doubled in size, his breath catching in his throat while you leaned in carefully, pressing the softest kiss against his boyish cheek.

"Have a good summer, Yuuji." you whispered, grabbing your backpack off the floor.

His hand rested where your lips had been, his gaze following you off of the bus. You made it about halfway up your driveway before pausing to look back at him over your shoulder, two lingering smiles blurring past one another as the driver hurried on with her route.

The next two months were filled with sunshine and soccer practice for him. Bike rides and camping trips and basketball courts. His days were usually full, but no matter what he was doing or where he was going, there was one song that was always on the tip of his tongue:

♫⋆｡ ♪ ₊ ﾟ“Do you want me? Just how I am? Do you need me and where I stand?”

One song that would forever remind him of you:

"Let's go steady, let's make a plan. Marinade on that for a little while." ⋆｡ ♪ ₊♬ ﾟ。

And he did.

He marinaded on the infatuation he felt for you the rest of that entire summer.

When August arrived that year and brought everyone back for high school, he was ready.

There were stories he wanted to tell you, questions he wanted to ask you. Playlists he wanted to make with you. Books he'd found while thrifting that he wanted to give to you. Daydreams he had of roaming the halls and laughing with you. Visions of bringing his lunch into the library so he could eat with you. He couldn't wait to hear about your summer. Couldn't wait to catch up with you. Couldn't wait to see you.

Unfortunately for you both though, life had other, much darker plans in store for the pink-haired boy who just wanted to carry around your books for you and hold your hand during passing period.

He was called out of class early on the first day. Forced to leave the building before he even had the chance to see you as he frantically tracked down the nearest shuttle and rushed across town to get to the hospital. His grandpa’s health had been on a slow decline, but after his most recent fall, it had suddenly started to plummet.

Yuuji missed the majority of that week, dedicating all of his time to the man who had essentially raised him. He would bring him food and sit with him for hours even though he was mostly incoherent. He’d tell him about his day and leave flowers by his bedside. He'd watch reruns of old game shows with him that they used to watch when Yuuji was little, completely ignoring the nurses who would say things like, "You need to give yourself a break.”

The hospital staff tried their best to get him to take a day off. To go back to school and live his own life, but Yuuji just couldn’t. His grandpa was the only family he'd ever really had. There was no way he was going to leave him. He ditched the comfort of his bedroom and began sleeping on the cramped hospital futon next to the grey-haired man, teaching himself what each machine hooked up to him was responsible for and what vitals they monitored. He’d sometimes leave throughout the day, but it was only for a couple of hours at most. He'd return with more flowers and books to read to him. By the third week of school, he'd missed almost every single one of his classes, but he didn’t care. His priorities were firm.

Yuuji stayed by his side - day in and day out, until the very end.

When he woke up to the sound of erratic beeping and codes that he didn't understand being called out by nurses, he knew. He knew in his heart that this was it. Amongst the chaos were two sets of shaking hands reaching for each other, his grandpa's last words hanging heavily in the space between them,

“Yuuji... You're a strong kid, try your best to help others, okay?”

He remembered thinking at that moment that there couldn’t be a worse feeling. That he couldn’t possibly have anything else left to lose. He was only 15 and he was now officially all on his own as he watched the only parental figure he had let out his last breath of air.

He had no family, no future, no chance.

Fate was a cruel and calculating thing though. A few days after the funeral, Yuuji discovered that he did have a future. One that was irreversibly sealed the minute he stepped foot into Jujutsu High. He had to let go of everything he'd known in exchange for the damning task of becoming a vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. He had to trade in his mundane role of being a high school freshman for the daunting responsibility of becoming a first-year sorcerer. And arguably the hardest thing of all, he had to give up the simple pleasure of sharing a set of tangled headphones with you to try and save a world that didn't truly care about him.

There was no room for normalcy anymore. This was his new life and it was ending, one day at a time.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

He sat at a nearly vacant bar by himself, staring down the empty glass in front of him, watching the ice melt as he ran a shaky hand along the back of his neck.

It was 4 o'clock and he was only one of two people here this early. The lights and music were still being adjusted by the workers. Cups being stocked and coolers being filled for the inevitable Saturday-night rush that would come in the next few hours. His goal was to be absolutely obliterated by then - to already be on his way back home before the swarm of college students took over.

He paused, noticing the calendar hanging by the craft beer list in front of him. His heart stuttered a bit as he blinked back at the date. No wonder he'd been feeling so reminiscent lately.

He leaned over the counter hoping to find the bartender who'd poured his first drink, but to no avail.

He grabbed his glass, sucking down the very last drop of whiskey it had to offer, trying desperately to drown out the realization that today was his 22nd birthday and the people who should be here with him weren't.

Almost every friend he'd made over the last ten years had been ripped away from him. They were scattered memories. Familiar voices that he did his best to hold onto. Faces, names, deaths that followed him everywhere he went.

Middle school and the innocence of just wanting to hold a pretty girl's hand while she walked down the hallway were long gone. He was an adult now. A very tired and traumatized adult.

He peered around the corner again, half-tempted to jump over the bar and pour himself another drink when the stereo kicked on, an overwhelming wave of pure, deep blue nostalgia flooding over him without warning.

His back straightened, his eyes suddenly darting towards the speaker as the lyrics drifted across his skin, causing every hair on his body to stand up at once.

"She wanted to die by a river. She wanted the tide to come up and drag her away, so that when she's dreamin', she can watch the tree line fall away." ⋆｡ ♪

It was the same hazy melody that he'd spent an entire summer listening to on repeat. He still knew every word, every beat. It was muscle memory the way his fingertips began to drum along the counter when a bartender finally emerged from the back.

"Sorry, do you need a –"

Time stilled, the glass nearly slipping from his hand as your gaze caught his.

"Yuuji?"

Despite how much you'd changed since the last time he saw you, your voice was somehow just as soft as he remembered it being.

He stared back at you in quiet disbelief, guilt quickly settling in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how fucking strange and unexpected this all must feel for you too.

From your perspective, he'd spent all of 8th grade trying to befriend you only to up and leave without even saying goodbye. And now, 7 years later - he was at your work, looking back at you like you were an actual angel, and forgetting every word he knew.

Your eyes stayed locked on his for another moment, both of you studying the person in front of you before you finally let out a shaky breath and smiled at him.

"Here," You offered, suddenly feeling the need to soothe your own nerves too. "On the house."

He tried to tell you that he could pay for it, but it was too late. You were already pouring two shots and motioning for him to put his wallet away.

"Okay, fine. But..." There was a glimmer in his eye as he pulled his glass away from yours. "What are we toasting to?"

The smile he gave you felt like a warm hug. One that you didn't realize you needed until you had it again. "Oh," You stammered, trying to ignore the blood that was rushing to your cheeks. "What about... To old friends?"

He nodded, still wearing the same expression as your drinks lightly knocked together. "To old friends."

He couldn't help but grin again at the little shiver that swept across your body as you finished yours.

Your hair was longer, your features a bit more mature, but your mannerisms were all the same. You were still the girl that was made up of mid-day sunlight, handbound books, and shades of blue that were too pretty to exist in this world.

You grabbed a beer out of the cooler and slid it to him, once again ignoring the credit card he tried to hand you. "Yuuji, relax." you leaned against the counter, resting your head in your hands so that you were eye-level with him. "They're not gonna go bankrupt over a $2 IPA, I promise."

"If you say so."  

You both exchanged the same small smile, his finger lightly running along the counter. "So," he cleared his throat, completely unsure of where to start. "How've you been?"

It was a loaded question, maybe even a dumb question considering how much time had passed, but he didn't care. He really did want to know how you'd been. What you'd been up to. What type of things you'd been writing about. What your Spotifty playlists looked like. What you did on your days off. He wanted to know everything. All of it.

"Well," you exhaled, trying to find an easy way to condense the last seven years of your life. "My parents..." your eyebrows furrowed, realizing that you'd never gotten the chance to tell him why you used to dread your old bus route so much. "My parents finally got divorced..."

“Oh shit, I’m sorry -"

“No,” You said swiftly, not wanting him to feel bad for asking. "It was more of a relief than anything. They used to fight, a lot. My mom wasn't always the nicest when she drank... It probably should've happened way sooner to be honest."

His breathing slowed as memories of you with tears in your eyes walking up your driveway smashed through his mind. He'd promised himself that he would ask you about it one day, but he had no idea it'd be this much later on. He'd wanted to talk to you about it as kids. Wanted to know what scared you so much about going home, but he didn't know how. It was the reason why he left journals on your desk. The reason why he never let you go without the next book in your series.

For everything he couldn't say, he tried to show. But he'd failed you on both accounts the day he disappeared.

"My parents separated my -" you paused, eyes dragging to his as you corrected yourself. "our graduation year."

He nodded, doing his best to digest the thought of you walking down the aisle in a cap and gown with the weight of your parents' downfall on your shoulders.

"But, after that," you smiled slightly. “I applied to college and got accepted. Started working here. Got my own apartment. And I don't know...” you shrugged, "I think in a weird way, things happened the way they were supposed to. It was like everything needed to fall apart before it got better, you know?"

He smiled back at you, your last sentence lingering in the space between you as he reached for your hand. He probably wouldn't have understood that sentiment a year ago, but watching your eyes widen while your fingers slowly tangled into his, he knew exactly what you meant now.

"I'm really sorry I wasn't there..." His thumb brushed against the side of your hand, steadying himself as he let 15-year-old him and 22-year-old him come together to say what they had both been holding onto for so long. "I didn't want to leave. I just -"

Your heart swelled in your chest, watching him blink back tears he wasn't prepared to shed. "Life got really hard for a really long time for me too. But, whenever I felt myself drifting... I thought of you. Thought of the way you'd glance at me from over your book during class. Thought of the way you smiled when you thought no one was watching. I thought of you... all the time. And it was like, no matter how dark things got, it reminded me that life could be good, because it was at one point. So..."

Your hand tightened around his, two sets of glossy eyes now staring back at each other as he forced himself to say what he should've years ago. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there, but... I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

You were dizzy with emotion. Swimming through feelings that you'd kept buried for nearly the last decade. The thoughts you'd only been brave enough to write down. The overwhelming urge to kiss him again and again and again until neither one of you had any air left in your lungs.

Your mouth opened and then closed, your body saying more than you were capable of with how desperately you were holding onto him.

You weren't sure what you were doing. Didn't have time to think or care about the repercussions of your impulsiveness.

"Hey Mai," You called out, "I'm really not feeling well. Think I'm gonna go home."

Yuuji's head was shaking no, but the surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was saying otherwise. "What're you doing?" he whisper-shouted, watching you run around the bar to grab his hand again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mai yelled from the back, but it was too late.

You and Yuuji were already gone, practically sprinting alongside each other, laughing as you booked it across the parking lot.

"First the free beer and now this?"

"They won't go bankrupt over me missing one day." You winked. "C'mon, I wanna show you something."

You may have been leading the way, but he was still the athlete between the two of you, purposefully slowing himself down to not be right on your heels. But when he noticed you starting to pant as the road curved into an upward slope, he reached out for you, gently spinning you around to face him.

"Come here." he knelt down, positioning himself so that you could easily wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

He carried you piggy-back style up the hill, the sun fading into an array of pink and orange as you pointed out every bookstore around campus, explaining which ones were your favorites and why. Promising to get matcha with him tomorrow at a local coffee shop you passed. Asking him about his time at Jujutsu High and trying to wrap your mind around what little he was able to tell you as he swore that he'd fill you in on the full story when the time was right. You caught him up on what he'd missed the last three years of high school and how your college classes had been going. You talked about libraries and ghosts and laughed about how in 7th grade he'd joined the occult club just because he thought it'd be an easy after-school credit.

By the time you'd finally reached the spot you'd wanted to show him, the moon had almost completely replaced the sun. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and your hands were full of a mixture of different flowers that he'd picked for you along the way.

"This is..." he trailed off, watching the sky shift into a deep blend of blue and silver. "Beautiful. How'd you even find this place?"

It was an abandoned park surrounded by overgrown trees that overlooked the city, only one rusted swing set left to its name. The hike you had to endure just to find it had more than likely been the cause of its demise, trekking up here with a backpack was hard enough, let alone a stroller.

"I kinda found it by accident." You shrugged. "I was working on an art project and needed a good view of the skyline. I looked up a bunch of different places online, but then I saw this spot and just knew."

Yuuji pulled off his hoodie, sweat trickling down his neck from the late-summer heat as the two of you sat in the grass, his arm gently wrapping around your waist.

There had been so many times you'd sat in this exact same spot by yourself, wondering what the odds were that you were both somehow looking up at the same star.

Your head rested on his shoulder, a warm gust of air swirling around you as you both looked out into the distance, watching the way the stars faded into the Tokyo lights.

"Hey, Yuuji?" You twirled a blade of grass between your fingers, not wanting to ruin the moment, but still needing to be sure.

"Yeah?"

"You promise, right?"

"Hm?" He could hear the concern in your voice, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

"You promise that... you're not leaving again?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere. And if I do," His eyes returned to yours, his free hand attentively resting under your chin. "I'm taking you with me."

You nodded, warmth washing over you as he traced along your jawline, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Your fears were lost to his touch. Your worries dissolving into the sincerity of his voice. Your need for reassurance wholeheartedly met when his hand cupped your cheek and his lips finally caught yours. Seven years' worth of pent-up feelings pouring out between the two of you, hands roaming and little moans slipping out between breaths while you tugged on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. He was gentle but eager. Soft but secure. Perfect, in every way.

He hovered over you, easing you onto the grass as he made a makeshift pillow out of his hoodie for you to rest your head on.

You smiled as his lips drifted from your mouth to your neck, his palm delicately traveling up your shirt, pulling your bra to the side while he helped slide your tank-top up over your head. He kissed your collarbones, whispering sweet little praises into your skin. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

He rested a hand under your back, steadying you as his tongue flickered across your chest. He took his time, making sure to give each nipple the same amount of attention, still humming things like, "the prettiest girl I've ever seen" while his hand traced over your hip.

He tugged at the waistline of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes as he began to leave featherlight kisses along the inside of your thigh, his blood racing at the sounds you were suddenly making.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

You whimpered out a broken "yes", practically dripping when his fingers spread you apart. He watched you writhe beneath him, drawing slow but firm circles around you. Trying not to lose himself to the way your legs were already shaking for him.

"Yuuji," you whined. "I -" his mouth was ghosting your center, his fingers still playing with your clit while he held you in place. "I n - need you." your voice was heady, lost somewhere in the clouds the faster he went. "I wanna f - feel you, so bad."

"Yeah?" He smiled, his breath still fanning across your core as his digits prodded carefully at your entrance. He groaned at how beautifully your walls swallowed him. "I wanna feel you too."

Your head lulled back, eyes pointed at the sky while your hand tangled into his pink hair. His mouth was warm and heavenly, his tongue running uppp and dowwnnn your center, saliva mixing with slick while his fingers plunged into you.

"Oh, fuck."

He only went deeper the louder you got, flattening his tongue against you with just the right pressure to keep you saying his name. His ring and middle finger hitting spots you'd never been able to reach yourself. You were clenching around him, your thighs locking around his head as you rocked against his tongue.

"Yuuji - you're gonna make me -" he thought it was adorable the way you struggled to get more than two words out at a time. "Fuck, I -"

"Mhmm, just like that."

He was in the same daze you were, sliding in and out of you feverishly until he finally felt the blissful release of your walls spasming around him. Your body suddenly unable to hold it in any longer as you gave him the privilege of really tasing you.

"Oh my god," he moaned, faithfully lapping up every bit of you he could get, only pulling away when you started begging for him.

"Yuuji -" It was needy and light-headed. "Come here, come here. Please."

The way he lifted his head up, smiling at you with your cum dripping down his chin made something inside you ache.

You pulled him towards you, desperately wrapping your legs around his waist as he began undoing the buttons on his pants. He kissed you, again and again and again, using it as a pleasant distraction while he wriggled himself free.

He took a breath, both of you watching in blitzed out awe as he lined himself up with you. "I love you." he whispered, your eyes widening from the blend of his words and the feeling of his tip slowly entering you. "Always have."

His hair brushed against your forehead as he parted your lips with his tongue, your nails digging into his neck with his first full thrust. You were so tight and warm around him.

He tried to ease into you, encouraging you while also making sure you were comfortable. His voice sweet as honey as he asked you things like, "Is that okay, baby?" and "Aw, you like when I go deep like that, huh?"

Your gaze locked with his, your eyebrows knitting together the faster his rhythm became.

You'd thought about this moment before. Thought about what it might feel like, but nothing could've prepared you for the way your heart would race at the sound of him moaning, "You're doing so good for me." The way he'd hold you, looking back at you with stars in his eyes as he filled every inch of you.

"Yuuji -"

"Let it out, baby. S'okay." He whispered, his hand reaching for yours. "I've got you."

Your vision was blurred by the feeling of his tip meeting your cervix, warm summer air brushing against your skin as you reached your breaking point.

"I love you." The words left your mouth so fast you barely had time to register them, but then... they wouldn't stop. It was the only phrase you remembered how to say. The only emotion you remembered how to feel. "I love you." you whimpered again, feeling yourself tighten around him as your confession became more frantic. "Oh - mygod, Yuuji. I love you. I love you. I love - you."

His movements were suddenly beyond his control, his body completely succumbing to the grip of yours. "Fuck, baby - I -" He didn't know if he should pull out. Didn't know if he could pull out. His head was everywhere, his mouth dropping open the longer he watched you.

Your legs locked around him in heady reassurance. "Mm'mm, d - don't stop." You panted. "Cum with me."

It was a sentence he'd only ever thought he'd be lucky enough to hear you say in his dreams.

His hips stilled after one more thrust, your walls holding him tight as he began to twitch inside you. His forehead pressed against yours, his arms struggling to keep him propped up.

You exchanged the same exhausted smirk, leaning up to kiss him while he carefully pulled out of you. A blend of fluids spilling out onto the grass beneath you as he laid by your side with his forearm over his face, trying to regain his composure.

There was a calm silence that settled between you, the both of you looking up at the stars before you rolled over to reach for your shorts, letting him catch his breath while you dug something out of the back pocket.

"Here." You said, unraveling a tangled pair of headphones and handing him one.

His eyes widened with the same curiosity they had 7 years ago as he held it to his ear, your head resting on his chest while a song he knew all too well flowed through the small speakers connecting you. A smile splitting across his face as he held you closer.

"You know, I think you were right." he exhaled, running light fingertips along your arm. "Everything did have to fall apart before it got better."

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