#your FACE is just so special and endearing and amusing to me

[gaynarutodude]

Sometimes I feel like the way I laugh at everything my friends do can come off as judgy or bullying, but it's always just the way they're so uniquely funny and don't even realize their own quirks at times, it just gives me so much joy that everytime I look at them I can't help but laugh

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ be my valentine? ♡ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Second Years x gn! reader

𓏵 1151 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff, a bit ooc(?)

First Years are done! Third Years coming up next! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

I think Riddle would approach Valentine’s Day with strict formality. He’d see it as a day where everything must be done correctly—from the timing of the gift to the wording of the confession. He likely spends days researching the proper etiquette for giving someone chocolates, but when the moment arrives, he’s stiff and clearly overthinking every step.

Riddle doesn’t handle romantic feelings well, and though he wants to make you feel special, his nerves get the best of him. If you show genuine appreciation, he short-circuits a little, his face turning red as he struggles to regain his composure.

"Ahem! I prepared this for you. Naturally, it would be improper of me to let this day pass without offering a gift. It is simply… expected. N-Not that I mind! In fact, I—I wanted to! So, um… please accept it."

─────────────────────────

I think Ruggie would act super casual about Valentine’s Day, like it’s no big deal. He’d shrug it off, saying stuff like, "Man, people are really splurging today, huh?" while totally pretending he didn’t get you anything. But in reality, he’s had a little something tucked away for you all day—he just doesn’t know how to give it without looking sappy.

When he finally hands it over, he plays it cool but is very alert for your reaction. If you get flustered, he’ll smirk and tease you. If you act chill, he’ll nudge you, trying to get more of a response. But if you look genuinely happy? He gets quiet for a second, ears twitching before he grins like you just handed him a gift.

"Psh, don’t make a big deal outta this. It’s just a little somethin’ I swiped—uh, I bought for ya. You like it? Heh. Yeah? Thought ya might. Oi, don’t get all mushy on me now!"

─────────────────────────

I think Azul would plan his Valentine’s Day gift like a business deal—something elegant, refined, and impressive. He wants to sweep you off your feet while also ensuring you recognize his generosity. But deep down? He overthinks it so much that he gets stuck in analysis paralysis, agonizing over whether his gift is "too much" or "not enough."

When he finally presents it, he masks his nervousness behind his usual suave demeanor, but his fingers might fidget slightly. If you genuinely love his gift, his confidence wavers just a bit, and he has to adjust his tie to hide how flustered he is.

"Ahem. As a token of my regard, I have procured this exquisite gift for you. Of course, you need not feel obligated to accept it, but— Oh? You… like it? I-I mean, of course you do! Hah… Why are you staring at me like that?"

─────────────────────────

I think Jade would treat Valentine’s Day like a very amusing social experiment. He’s incredibly perceptive, so he’d tailor his gift perfectly to your tastes—but the way he presents it would be so unpredictable. He might casually set it down next to you with a cryptic, "For you," and then disappear before you can respond. Or he might wait until you least expect it, handing it over with a knowing smile.

Jade’s true enjoyment comes from watching your reaction. If you’re flustered, he finds it utterly delightful. If you try to act casual, he’ll push just a little—his smooth words making it impossible to keep your cool.

"Hm? You seem surprised. Did you not anticipate that I would partake in this charming human custom? Fufu… your expression is rather endearing. Perhaps I should gift you things more often."

─────────────────────────

I think Floyd would be completely unpredictable about Valentine’s Day. One moment, he’s dramatically declaring, "Ughhh, too much effort, Valentine’s is boring!" and the next, he’s shoving a gift at you with zero warning, just to see your reaction.

He doesn’t plan things in advance—if he gives you something, it’s impulsive, based purely on what he feels like doing. And if he’s in a really good mood? He might just squeeze you while laughing, declaring you’re his "favorite little shrimp" before bolting off to cause more chaos.

"Here ya go, Shrimpy! I dunno, thought it looked fun, so I got it for ya. Huh? Why ya lookin’ at me like that? Hehe, you gettin’ all blushy on me? Awww, maybe I shoulda got ya two gifts!"

─────────────────────────

I think Kalim would love Valentine’s Day because it gives him an excuse to spoil you. He doesn’t just give you one gift—he gives you several, and it’s clear he put his heart into every single one. Handmade treats? Jewelry? A handwritten letter? Yes. He throws it all at you like an overexcited golden retriever.

Kalim doesn’t do romance with subtlety—he’s all about pure joy. He beams when he sees you happy and might even pick you up in excitement. If you tell him he made your Valentine’s Day special, expect him to get so overwhelmed with happiness that he nearly tears up.

"Surprise!! Hehe, I got you all this ‘cause I just had to make today perfect for you! Huh? Too much? No way! You deserve way more than this!!"

─────────────────────────

I think Jamil would act like Valentine’s Day is just another chore on his endless list of responsibilities. He’d roll his eyes at the whole thing, saying it’s a pointless tradition and that people get too worked up over it. But despite his complaints, he still makes time to prepare something for you—quietly, efficiently, and without drawing attention to himself.

He’s not the type to make a grand gesture, so his gift is something subtle yet undeniably thoughtful, like a homemade treat tailored to your tastes. He’d pass it to you casually, like it’s no big deal, barely sparing you a glance as he mumbles something about “getting rid of extras.” But if you comment on how much effort he put in—maybe teasing him a little about it—he exhales sharply, brushing his hair back with practiced indifference.

"You’re imagining things. If you don’t want it, I’ll just throw it out." But the way his fingers linger when you take it, the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips—it gives him away.

─────────────────────────

I think Silver would approach Valentine’s Day with complete sincerity. He doesn’t overthink it—he just sees it as a day to express his feelings. His gift isn’t extravagant, but it’s something genuinely meaningful. Maybe a small charm for protection or a simple but beautifully written note.

However, since he’s Silver… there’s a chance he might accidentally fall asleep before giving it to you. If that happens, you might find the gift resting next to him as he sleeps, with a note written in his slightly messy handwriting. When he wakes up and sees you holding it, he flushes slightly but stands by his words, no matter how direct they are.

"I wanted to give you this. It’s nothing grand, but… it reminded me of you. Hm? You… really like it? I’m glad. You deserve to be cherished."

[sweetshuga]

Best friend 2 ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bff!matt! Best friends are usually off limits, but how can you resist when he’s wearing that pretty pink tee knowing you love it when he does. «Part 1»

𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 – "Mhm... I know ’s your favourite, don’t you get why I wore it today?" He whispered in your ear, causing a shiver of excitement to strike up your spine. "Now, let’s be quiet alright? Chris and Nick are still home... you don’t want them to hear me fuck you senseless, do you pretty?" Is the last thing he whispered before bending you over the bathroom sink, fulfilling your fantasies—and his own.

Your breath hitched when he suddenly manhandled you – turning you around and bending you over the edge of the sink counter. His hands gripped your hips, fingers splaying out in a possessive way as he bent forward until his chest was flush against your back.

"So pretty," he cooed lowly, nuzzling his face in your hair and inhaling your scent, one hand slowly going around until it was splayed across your lower abdomen. "Let’s see just how wet you are." His pinky dipped into the waistband of your loose sweatpants – a silent question for permission.

Matt’s hand fully dipped in after you nodded your head, the pads of his fingers quickly finding the center of your panties and groaning at how fucking soaked you were.

"Fuuuck," he breathed out. "You fucking drenched your panties." He stated bluntly, his lips curling into a grin before speaking in a lower tone—voice dropping a few octaves down from arousal. "Allll this just for me hmm?" He dragged out his words, chuckling to himself.

"Mhmm—yeah, all for you..." you whispered, unable to talk any louder as the embarrassment settled in. Your face heated up and breath hitched as Matt’s fingers moved languidly over your clit through your soaking wet panties. You could feel all the sensations his skilled fingers were giving you thanks to the wet cotton fabric clinging to your pussy.

"Can I finger you sweetheart?" He whispered in your ear, teasing you on purpose even though he knew you were obviously very willing.

You let out a small whine, face flushing more as he kept teasing you over your underwear with gentle strokes. "You’re seriously gonna ask that?" Your breathless question elicited a small chuckle from him, the sound making you even more turned on than you already were. "Oh, baby, consent is important, I’m just being a caring best friend."

You hadn’t noticed his hand slipping into your underwear.

"Mhm, does best friends do what you’re doin—ahn! " Your teasing was cut short by your own unexpected moan caused by Matt’s fingers circling your bare slippery clit.

You were too into your own thoughts to have noticed his hand or the way he was giggling quietly to himself as his fingers slowly dragged themselves down your slit and prodded at your entrance teasingly before sliding back up, making you clench around nothing.

Matt smiled against your hair when he heard the needy whine escaping you and he decided to tease you further, thinking your reactions were endearing. "Oh? But I thought you didn’t want me to finger you since you didn’t give me permission sweetheart." He feigned Innocence, barely holding back his amusement.

"Matt!" You whined loudly, it making him break into a hearty chuckle. "Alright, alright, don’t shout." You scoffed, "I was not shoutin- Mmmfp!! " Your words were cut short, yet again, by your own noise.

Matt had slipped two long digits in you.

"Fuck—mm-ah, lemme at least finish my ffucking words." You gasped out softly in between breathy whines as Matt’s fingers dragged across your inner walls in painstakingly teasing slow strokes, letting himself feel every small bump and texture of your gummy walls. His fingers curled inside you, searching for that special spot.

Your whole body shuddered when Matt’s fingertips suddenly pushed against the outlarged spongy bump along the front wall of your sloppy cunt – your g-spot – causing you to let out a drawn out moan.

"Found it." Matt hummed triumphantly and he didn’t waste any more time, his digits starting to move rapidly in a digging motion against your sweet spot.

Sparks lit up behind your eyes, that threatened to roll back, with each motion of his fingers. You bit your lips to muffle your needy sounds since Nick and Chris were home and could potentially hear you if you were any louder.

However, that only turned him on more.

Matt groaned lowly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, his free hand snaking up to fondle your tits through your t-shirt, letting out another groan when he felt your warmth through the thin fabric, only now noticing your lack of a bra.

"Your pussy loves my fingers huh? Listen to all that sloppy shlurp’s and squelches." He teased, mimicking the wet watery sounds as he finger-fucked you, almost rendering you dumb on his fingers.

"F-fuck-- I’m gonna- Matt! Mmm-ahh." You finally let out your desperate moans, only to get silenced – or well, muffled – by Matt’s hand that was previously playing with your tits.

"Shh-shh, baby, quiet now hm? Don’t need Chris to come knocking and asking what we’re doing now do we?" He spoke in a hushed tone, his words strained with barely contained desire. You were quick to climax, his voice and fingers enough to send you over the edge.

"Fucking soaking my fingers with your cum huh?" He chuckled when your eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering and all.

Matt slowly pulled his fingers out after you finally relaxed against him, your legs about to give out any second—which gave him an idea to say the least.

He pushed your front flush against the counter beside the sink, leaning back to unbuckle his belt, the clanking of metal making your greedy cunt flutter in anticipation.

You don’t even know how it’s humanly possible to take off one’s pants and boxers so fast, but Matt made it possible as the blunt head of his hefty length nudged against your thigh in mere seconds after the sounds of his buckle being undone.

Matt’s fingers were quick to hook themselves in the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, pulling them down in one swift motion and eliciting a hiss from you due to the cool air hitting your overheated glistening pussy.

He let out a low whistle when he saw your pussy, all bare and glistening just for him. His hands reached out and spread your lips apart with his thumbs to reveal your spasming entrance.

"Could fucking cum from the sight alone, fuuck, you’re so pretty." His words were nothing more than a whisper to himself, but you caught them nonetheless.

"Matt- I need you inside, s’badly." You blurted out, a little too desperate for your liking, but then again, you couldn’t really wait any longer. You were dying for him to fuck you, and how could he refuse? You were handing yourself on a silver platter to him and he was more than ready to satisfy you.

Matt wrapped his fingers around your throat in a gentle grip, just to adjust your position. He pulled you up until your back was flush against his chest, the edge of the counter in front of you making it impossible to move as his cock slowly slid inside.

Hissing at the heat and the way you were already sucking him in as his fingers flexed against your neck, eyes closing shut as the feeling of you enveloping him inch by inch flooded his senses.

"Haahh... Fuck, you feel incredible." Matt moaned, his eyes fluttering open to look at you in the mirror in front of you. His eyes darkened and brows knitted together in pleasure when he saw the expression on your face.

"Holy fuck, look at yourself, all drunk on my cock and I just entered you." He raised his eyebrows as he ground his hips against your ass, stirring your insides and pressing against your cervix, causing you to let out a whimper of pleasure and slight pain from the pressure.

Matt drew out until just the tip remained before slowly sliding back in, setting a slow pace that let you feel every inch of his veiny shaft. Your pussy made wet squelching sounds the more he increased his pace, causing him to chuckle breathlessly.

As much as you loved the feeling of him going slowly and savoring the pleasure, you needed more and thus you started to meet his thrusts, pushing back against his hips.

Matt’s breath hitched in his throat when he felt you deliberately increase the pace, his hand that was previously around your throat snaking up to your mouth to muffle your moans.

"Greedy girl," he whispered as he increased his pace, relishing in your muffled moans and the way your hands scrambled to hold onto something—anything as his hips slapped hard against your ass with each brutal slam.

Seeing your eyes rolling back and pussy spasm around him along with the needy mewls that were far too loud to muffle almost made him finish, but he wanted you to come for him again, he wanted you to feel the most pleasure.

Your thighs trembled when the pads of his fingers found your slick swollen clit and started to draw furious swipes on it, causing you to squirm due to the intense waves of pleasure coursing through so suddenly, but you were trapped against the bathroom counter and him.

You could only take what he gave you.

𓆩♡𓆪

A few more minutes of his unrelenting pounding paired with his fingers strumming your sensitive clit and you were climaxing, hard.

Your mind blanked, the pleasure swallowing your whole being and wiping out any lingering thoughts—hell, you were pretty sure you forgot your own name at some point. Your vision blurred from tears of pleasure, hands scrambling down to clutch onto his wrist to stop his fingers from stimulating your overstimulated nub any further.

Matt was holding back from finishing, but the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him and pulling him inside with each contraction made it impossible to hold back his own orgasm and he climaxed pretty fucking hard, biting his lips to muffle his own moans as his hips stuttered against you.

His hand that was playing with your clit wrapped around your waist instead, his face contorting in unadulterated bliss and satisfaction as his balls drained all of his spend right into you.

The feeling of his warm milky seed flooding your quivering cunt was all you needed. A satisfied moan fell out of your parted lips the moment Matt lowered his hand and wrapped it around your waist, holding onto you tightly and pulling you more against him before letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

The two of you stood there for a moment, trying to catch your breaths and also relishing in the afterglow, but that was until someone knocked on the bathroom door – which obviously startled both of you.

"Matt? You in there?" Chris’ voice came muffled through the door.

Matt’s body tensed behind you, "Uh, yeah, what’s up?" He rasped, sounding far too nervous and suspicious even to himself. A few seconds of silence felt like hours before Chris finally replied, "Hurry out, let’s finish the game, you disappeared in the middle of it."

Matt let out a sigh of relief before replying in a more steady voice. "Yeah... yeah, I’ll be out in a bit." He slowly pulled out with a wet pop, hissing quietly as he did so.

Chris seemed to have bought whatever Matt was making up and his footsteps faded away after telling Matt to hurry up again.

Matt started to help you clean between your legs with wet wipes before cleaning himself up and you both fixed your clothes and hair in the mirror.

Your thoughts wandered while you adjusted your clothes. Was this the beginning of a 'friends with benefits' type of a relationship? You weren’t sure, but you were pretty damn sure that this was the best fuck you’ve ever had. No, scrap that, the best you’ll ever probably have.

Matt’s definitely the best fucking friend ever.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 2k (2,004)

note. English is not my first language!

Isa’s note. First full fic of this year and we’re going back to basics! It’s so weird to look back at how much my fics have changed... Why is it so awkward after the sex part though? Like what am I supposed to write??? Anyway, the ending was kinda rushed ’cause I just wanted this fic done.

Also, @lolastrniolo requested a part two like so long ago lmao and I was still not used to writing smut so I couldn’t really write the continuation, but now that I’m more comfortable with it, here it is! 🎀

© sweetshuga

[kitkat13001]

⋆°• ☁︎ 𐙚 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

>> l lawliet x reader

>> fluff, established relationship

you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clacking of L’s keyboard. 

“you know what i wish?” you muse, watching the light coming off his computer brighten and darken as he flicks between screens. 

“wishing is of little consequence,” he replies, almost automatically. “it won’t change the reality we live in.”

you ignore him. “ryuzaki, you want to know what i wish?”

he sighs, knowing you’ll persist anyway. “what do you wish, my love?”

“i wish that we were in a romance manga,” you tell him, clutching a pillow to your chest and letting your head hang off the side of the bed. “and you’d be just a detective and i’d be just me.”

he’s silent for a moment, taking in your words before he responds. “but i am a detective and you are you. where would this divulge from reality?”

“no one would die, because it’s a romance manga and it’s not that kind of story,” you say with a sigh. “the biggest mystery you’d be solving was how to ask me out and the only crime committed was how you’d stolen my heart—” he almost laughs at that part, “—and we could have a beach episode and montages of cute dates and a christmas special and—” you prattle on, excited merely over the prospect as you list off other fantasies. 

ryuzaki listens as he works, used to this dreamy behavior from you (especially when you’re half asleep like this). your ramblings amuse him. 

“i could take you to the beach,” he muses, eyes wandering in thought. 

“hm?” 

“watari owns several private islands,” he says, wheeling around in his chair to face you. “they’re used for different purposes, mostly as safe houses for emergencies. but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind us staying there on a long weekend.”

“are you being serious, ryuzaki?” you ask after a moment, clutching the edge of the mattress to keep yourself upright. your eyes are big and curious and hold a little ember of hope and giddiness. 

“when am i not serious?” he mumbles in reply, clacking away on his keyboard but unable to hide a small smile. 

you clap in delight, letting out a happy squeal. “oh my god! a private island retreat!”

“it’s nothing fancy,” he insists, turning back to his work, “so don’t go thinking this is some grand occasion.”

“ryuzaki, what about a private island isn’t fancy?!” you reply, clambering off the bed in a hurry. you whirl about the room, darting between the closet and nightstand and dresser. “i have to pack all my swimsuits and summer clothes and oh, my sandals! and my hats and sunglasses!”

“i didn’t say we were going now,” he chides, casting you an incredulous glance as he watches you flit about the room. your manic energy is endearing, if somewhat exasperating. 

you straighten from where you’d been bent over the drawers, grinning and sweeping your hair from your eyes. “ah, you said a long weekend. there’s a holiday next week! if we leave in the next couple days, we can beat most of the travel congestion for the break.”

a small smile manages to overtake him at your spindle of logic. “so you’ve got it all worked out then?”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing you

“yes,” you reply indignantly, “now get watari on the phone and tell him i said ‘pretty please with a cherry on top’.”

he huffs with a soft laugh, shaking his head. you aren’t demanding of much, but once you have your sights set on something there’s no stopping you. “very well, my love. i’ll call watari, but that ‘cherry on top’ you mentioned will be for me, accompanied by a significant amount of cake.”

“deal,” you grin, shooing at him to make the call. 

[cxffecoupx]

asking to place lipstick marks on 'it'

seventeen x reader 18+, nsfw, svt down bad warnings: suggestive content, love making wc: 1.0k author's notes: such a CRAZYY thought to have, so i decided to do it :) but i cant believe it took me this long to finish writing this (read: uni is kicking my ass). anyways, wouldn't say i'm very satisfied with it, but i really hope you guys like it!! also, special thanks to @simpxxstan for giving me ideas for a few members

➼ choi seungcheol

very interested in the idea. would get so excited for this. would ask if he can select the shade of lipstick and runs to your dressing table when you agree. but most likely would end up buying a new set of lipsticks because the shade he wants 'is not there' (it's an excuse for him to buy you a new set). by the time you're able to finish your mission, you're over three rounds and he's a sweaty, moaning mess. neither of you sleep that night.

➼ yoon jeonghan

would become so smug when you suggest it?? like full on smirk on his face and just goes, "if you wanted me to fuck you, you could have just said that." but will eventually agree when he sees your boba eyes and gets excited seeing your excitement. will probably squirm and whimper because of the sensations at first, but the sex later on is crazy.

➼ hong jisoo

confused eyes. looks so adorable you end up smushing his face and kissing his lips in fondness. man is actually so clueless at first, but then ever more confused when he realizes what you meant. becomes beet red until you promise him it's just for fun and not necessary until he's okay with it, hearing which he quickly agrees cause if you're gonna have fun, why would he not indulge you? would become so adorably shy when he sees the result. makes you cum with just his fingers and mouth as thank you.

➼ moon junhui

mindblown by your idea. becomes so excited; it's like a child waiting for candy. so endeared by you that he ends up making you smooch all over his face. then he starts kissing all over your face. the lipstick marks meant for his dick end up on your faces, but neither of you could be happier than at this moment. slowly turns into a gentle love making session.

➼ kwon soonyoung

you ask him in a very usual way, but it's only after he accepts that you realize this is a great opportunity to tease him. asks if he can record it (because he's very amused by this idea) and searches for the perfect lighting and angle while you prepare. thinks he's so prepared for it, but starts shaking and pleading the moment you start kitty licking his tip. by the time you're finished, he's panting and wanting for more.

➼ jeon wonwoo

you ask him while he was gaming; he leaves the game so fast you wonder what went wrong. but then he goes and picks up a random shade of lipstick and pulls you in between his knees as he manspreads on his gaming chair. holds your hair as you work on him. hours later, the lipstick and your clothes lie forgotten by the bed.

➼ lee jihoon

wants this whole event to occur in his studio. literally agrees when you offer to come to the studio for it. he'd be acting so nonchalant but you can clearly hear his heart racing in his chest and his ears going red. also likely to voice record the whole thing with your consent to use as 'inspiration' later (will use it to get off during desperate times).

➼ lee seokmin

another one who'd get red. very shy. "woah where do you even get ideas like these?" as he goes wide-eyed and still manspreads on the couch to invite you in. goes weak in his knees when he sees you make eye contact with him as you look up from between his knees wearing a shade he considers sexy. you have to abort the mission because he ends up pushing your face few many times.

➼ kim mingyu

GIGGLY MESS. you don't understand what he's been giggling about ever since you proposed the idea, but you're currently down on your knees in front of his naked body and he just cant stop giggling??? when you ask him about it though, he says he's way too endeared by this whole task and wants you to kiss every inch of his body. so, an hour or so later, you're panting, straddling a happy mingyu who's entire body is covered with lipstick stains. time to make a new folder in your gallery.

➼ xu minghao

lowkey becomes concerned about you. he already suspected you were upto something when you approached him with a cheeky smile, but he never thought it'd be this... wild? almost instantly rejects until he sees you get down and look at him with such hopeful eyes that he cant resist. still finds it weird as you mark him, but gladly indulges you. takes photos of it (without you knowing,,, or so he thinks) because you are the artist, and he ends up liking the art a little too much.

➼ boo seungkwan

lowkey judges you first, before highkey agreeing to it. it's one of the "how dare you make stupid decisions and do them without me" moments. judgmental most of the time: "is that the shade you're choosing? it doesnt look good on my skin tone," "the lip shapes arent perfect, pucker them a little more," etc etc. after lots of advice and nagging, you finally finish the job. you get up with a satisfied smirk as you look at his pretty pink cock and his spent form.

➼ chwe vernon

deeply contemplates it. quickly nods when you say, "it's for the art" and asks for some time. leaves. comes back saying "okay, let's do it." when you ask him where he went, he goes "i had to be clean and ready." waits for you to prep for it, but almost cums then and there when he sees you naked, wearing only his favourite shade of lipstick. by the time you could finish the task, he's lost all his marbles and begs you to ride him. finishes with his cum painting your chest and stomach.

➼ lee chan

turns red as a tomato. one moment you suggest the idea, the next he has to physically pull his head outta the gutter because his thoughts escalated into something else. and no matter how hard he tries to deny that he was indeed having very mature thoughts, the blush creeping to his cheeks screams the truth. asks somewhere in between if he can mark your chest with his lipstick marks, and honestly? who are you to resist? by the end of the night, he's spent and at your mercy and you havent yet completed the task.

[k9wa]

⟁ 7:14 PM ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — braiding his hair bc my brain is rotting and i miss him.

⚠︎ fluff, thats really it, mechanic!reader but its not really relevant, suggestive if you squint and cover one eye and hang upside down. gn reader, wc 860.

boothill's head was lulled back between a pair of soft, comfy thighs, eyes a content and lazy half lidded as he felt some familiar calloused and precise fingers detangling little pieces of his hair. the sun was almost down past the horizon, and the last few warm rays peeking out left the room hued a gentle orange colour, its two inhabitants bathing in it.. 

he felt a slight tug here and there as you worked your magic, taking the knots out of those long white locks with patient fingers.

“you have such pretty hair.”

you mused quietly, combing out another strand with your nails. boothill's lips tugged up lightly in a gentle smirk— a hint of pride washing over him. he was a bigger sucker for praise than he’d ever admit.

“well, it’s gotta look good if it’s gonna match th’rest of me.” he drawled, voice a low rumble filled with a certain ease that rarely surfaced— well, rarely with others, anyway. he received a playful tug of his hair in response.boothill leaned back a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse of your endearing focussed expression.

he was slowly melting against your deft fingertips, silently whirring internals mimicking the quiet purr of a cat as you twirled a piece around your finger. 

“can i braid it?” you asked simply, already sectioning out a few strands at the top. 

“do whatever you want, sugar.” he granted with a little shrug, smirk still playing on his lips. “reckon a braid’ll help keep it from flyin’ into my eyes so much.”

he felt the rhythmic crossing of each strand as you began to braid, every brush of your nails against his scalp sending a pleasant shiver right through his wires.

“y’know,” he opened, voice still that gravely tone you could never get enough of. “ain’t nobody else i’d sit still for like this.” he admitted, brashness taking a backseat to give way to a tenderness reserved for one person only.

“yeah?” you smiled a bit, continuing to braid. “just for me, huh?”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a scruff, throaty chuckle, vibrations running through his chest.“just for you, darlin’.” he echoed.

 “you’ve got a magic touch, i s’ppose,” his eyes shut briefly. “could get used to this.”

the melodic and methodic movements of your fingers were earnestly making him drowsy, a soothing lullaby that laced and weaved around him in the same patterns as his hair. 

“like being pampered?” you teased playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“you just got a way of makin’ a man feel real special. that’s all.”

your fingers kept slowly crossing and twisting strands.

“you should let me curl it some day,” you suggested, amusing yourself with the thought of him dawning a bunch of puffy ringlets. “you’d look like ‘genti.”

boothill's low laughter echoed quietly in the room, a deep sound that harmonised with your own. 

“now that’d be somethin’ to see,” he admitted with a playful scoff. “ol’ boothill with curls bouncin’ around like some dandy.”

he shook his head as he pictured it, and you had to flick his cheek to remind him to look straight.

“i'd sport some curls if it meant i get to see you smilin’.”

you smiled fondly at that, taking a small hair tie and wrapping it around the tail of his braid.

“you’re sweeter than you let on.” you reached around to fix his bangs a little bit. 

“there.” you tilted his head up a bit to look at him, feigning shock. “well, ain’t you pretty?”

hearing his own southern drawl echoed back to him made the cowboy snort. “ain’t i just the belle of the ball now?”

boothill's hand instinctively reached back to feel your handiwork, prosthetic fingers tracing along the weaves of his hair.

“mighty fine job, sugar plum.” he commended, turning around to face you on his knees, hands sliding up your thighs until they met behind your back in a careful hug around your waist. he looked up at you— really looked at you, that mushy softness in him pushing out through the cracks you always left in his defences. 

“thanks, darlin’.” he said quietly, those red cruciform pupils locked in on your own. “means more’en you might know, you spendin’ your time fussin’ over me like this.”

the cyborg’s head fell comfortably down in your lsp, nuzzling into you.

“i think fussing over you is a full time job,” you teased lightly, a smile evident in your voice. “not that i mind.”

one of your hands traced the mechanical connections of his arm, all the way up until your fingers gave a gentle brush to his cheek.

boothill let out a breathy chuckle, some air fanning across your tummy. his fingers, a soothing and smooth cool metal, traced little shapes along your lower back.

“well, i reckon i oughta start payin’ you overtime for such dedication.” he quipped quietly, demeanour playful yet earnest as always.

“paying me to start might be better.” you gave a playful pinch to his cheek.  

“i got a few ideas for how i can pay ya,” he teased back, giving a little nip to your thigh.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[isak-dot-gov]

can you do a emily engstler x reader fluff were the reader and Emily act like a old married couple ( the reader and emily only been marry for a year ) when they go out to eat with emily teammates

can you also make it were the reader is short

Like an old married couple

Pairing: Emily Engstler x Reader

Word count: 1518

My masterlist :)

..............................................................

The restaurant was buzzing with the usual Saturday night energy. Emily's teammates had all gathered for a post-game dinner, filling the large table with laughter and conversation. You and Emily had only been married for a year, but to anyone watching, it seemed like you’d been together for decades.

You were perched on your chair, feet dangling a few inches off the floor due to your shorter height, while Emily sat beside you, her long legs stretched comfortably under the table. You reached for the menu, but Emily was already handing it to you, knowing that you liked to check the specials first.

"Here, love," she said with a gentle smile, placing the menu in your hands.

"Thanks, sweetheart," you replied, your tone soft and affectionate.

Emily’s teammates, sitting across from you, exchanged amused glances. They were used to the way you two interacted, like a couple that had long since settled into each other's rhythms. But they still found it endearing.

As you skimmed the menu, Emily leaned closer to peek over your shoulder. "I think you'd like the grilled salmon. It’s not too heavy, and you always love the way they season it here."

You nodded, trusting her judgement. "Yeah, that sounds perfect. And you’re getting the steak, right? You always do."

Emily chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You know me too well."

One of her teammates, Tori, smirked and leaned forward. "You guys really are like an old married couple. I mean, you've only been hitched for a year, but you act like it's been twenty."

You grinned, leaning into Emily’s side. "What can I say? We just fit."

Emily squeezed your shoulder, her voice teasing as she said, "Besides, it's not like I could let you go around ordering something you won’t like. You’d just end up stealing all of my fries."

You shot her a playful glare. "As if you don't love sharing them with me."

The table erupted in laughter, the banter flowing easily. Emily’s teammates teased you both relentlessly, but it was all in good fun. They admired the way you two interacted, the comfort and love that was so evident between you.

When the waiter came to take your orders, Emily didn’t hesitate to order for both of you, knowing exactly how you liked your food prepared. You didn’t even have to say a word, just nodding in agreement as she spoke.

After the waiter left, Emily turned back to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You okay? Not too tired, I hope."

You shook your head, smiling up at her. "Nope, I’m good. As long as I’m with you, I’m happy."

She kissed the top of your head, a simple gesture that made your heart swell. "Good. I want you to enjoy tonight."

As the evening went on, you and Emily continued to exchange little moments of affection—sharing bites of food, holding hands under the table, and occasionally leaning in to whisper something that would make the other laugh. Her teammates kept watching you both, some making playful comments, others just smiling at the way you two seemed so perfectly in sync.

At one point, you noticed one of her teammates struggling to decide what to order. Without missing a beat, you nudged Emily with your elbow, a knowing look on your face. Emily grinned, immediately catching on to your silent request.

"Hey, Aaliyah," Emily called out, "Y/N thinks you should try the chicken Alfredo. It’s her go-to when she’s feeling indecisive."

Aaliyah looked at you both with a raised eyebrow but smiled nonetheless. "You two really are in sync, huh?"

You shrugged, leaning against Emily as she draped an arm around your shoulders. "We just know each other well, I guess."

The food arrived, and as expected, Emily immediately offered you a bite of her steak, holding the fork out for you. You didn’t hesitate to lean forward and take the bite, savoring the flavor.

"Mmm, perfect as always," you said, licking your lips.

Emily chuckled, cutting another piece for herself. "You’re just saying that because it’s mine."

The playful banter continued throughout the meal, with Emily’s teammates throwing in their own comments and jokes about how you two were the epitome of relationship goals. It didn’t bother either of you; in fact, it only made you both feel more secure in what you had.

When the bill came, you reached for it out of habit, but Emily was quicker, already pulling out her wallet. "I've got it," she said firmly.

You pouted, crossing your arms. "I wanted to treat you this time."

Emily chuckled, handing the waiter her card. "Next time, darling. Tonight’s on me."

Her teammates watched this exchange with raised eyebrows, Tori speaking up again. "Seriously, you two are goals. I can’t even get my partner to text me back, and here you are fighting over who gets to pay."

You shrugged, leaning your head on Emily’s shoulder. "When you’ve found the right person, it just happens naturally."

Emily kissed your forehead, her eyes filled with warmth. "That’s right."

As the group started to gather their things to leave, Emily stood up and offered you her hand, helping you down from your chair. You smiled up at her, your height difference even more noticeable now that you were standing.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, looping your arm through hers as you walked out of the restaurant.

Emily grinned, her voice playful. "You already have, my little love."

Her teammates walked behind you, still chuckling at the sight of you two. But all you could focus on was the warmth of Emily’s arm around you, the comfort of knowing that no matter how many years passed, you’d always have each other. Just like an old married couple—only better because this was just the beginning of your forever.

The drive home was quiet but comfortable, the city lights casting a warm glow inside the car. Emily’s hand rested on your thigh, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing small circles as she drove. You leaned your head against the window, a contented smile playing on your lips as you thought about the night.

"You know," you started, breaking the silence, "I really love nights like this."

Emily glanced over at you, her expression softening. "Me too. It’s nice to just relax and be with you without any distractions."

You nodded, feeling a surge of affection for her. "And your teammates are great. I love how they tease us, but you can tell they’re happy for us."

Emily smiled, her hand giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. "They are. They’ve seen how much happier I’ve been since we got together. You’ve been good for me, you know?"

You chuckled, reaching over to intertwine your fingers with hers. "You’re not so bad yourself, Engstler."

Emily’s laugh was warm and genuine, filling the car with a sense of peace. "Well, I’m glad you think so."

When you finally arrived home, you both moved through the familiar routine of kicking off your shoes, hanging up your coats, and heading into the living room. It was second nature at this point, the way you moved around each other with such ease, as if you’d been living together for years.

You collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, watching as Emily grabbed a couple of glasses and poured some water. She handed you one before sitting beside you, her arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders as you snuggled into her side.

"I’m really glad we did this tonight," you said, taking a sip of your water.

"Me too," Emily agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love spending time with you, even if it’s just something simple like going out to dinner."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We should do it more often. It’s nice to just be out with you, you know?"

Emily nodded, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. "Absolutely. But honestly, even just sitting here with you like this is perfect to me."

You tilted your head up to look at her, your heart swelling with affection. "You’re such a sap, you know that?"

Emily laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Only for you, my love."

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Good, because I plan on keeping you around for a long time."

Emily returned the kiss, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity as she replied, "You’re stuck with me, little one. For now and forever."

As you settled back into her embrace, you realised that it didn’t matter how many years you’d been together or how many more were to come. What mattered was that you had each other, and that was more than enough.

In the quiet of your home, wrapped up in Emily’s arms, you knew that this was the kind of love that people searched for their entire lives. And you had found it, right here, in the person who made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

.........................................

Isak speaks: Low-key surprised I wrote something this cute wtf

[lightseoul]

endearment

synopsis. first, second, and third instances; it's official, there's something going on with bakugou and you're determined to find out.

cw. fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, aged-up (26 yrs old), established relationship, a lot of cursing

word count. 1.9k words

The first time it happens, you don’t think too much about it.

“Bakugou,” you call out from where you’re snuggled on his corduroy sofa. “Can you pass me some tissue?”

From the bathroom, you could hear a faint ‘tch’.

The sound of house slippers colliding with the tiled floor grows louder and louder until he finally emerges with a roll in his hand, which he promptly tosses to you.

You catch it—barely—and grin when you feel the thickness of the 3-ply roll, no doubt a staple in Bakugou Katsuki’s pristine apartment unit.

Go figure.

He’s circling the coffee table and plopping down next to you when your phone rings.

Confused, you pick up your phone to see a picture of you and Kirishima from your last get-together—his caller ID. Curious, Bakugou peers over your shoulder, frowning upon seeing his other best friend’s name.

“Isn’t he on patrol right now with Midoriya?” you ask.

Bakugou shrugs. “Answer it.”

Humming an okay, you click the accept button.

“Hey, Y/N! Is Bakubro with you right now?

You eye Bakugou, who’s pretending to be disinterested and not at all eavesdropping. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Kirishima laughs, “Can you tell him to check our group chat? Limited edition All Might merch just dropped.”

At that, you chuckle. “Got this Ei. He’s actually just beside me right now. I’ll make sure to tell him. And tell Izuku I said hi.”

You can practically hear the smile on his face when he says: “Thanks, bro! You’re the best.”

With that, you press the end call button and turn slightly to regard Bakugou, who’s now staring at his hands on his knees, what looks like a scowl etched on his face.

You poke at his side, trying to be playful.

“Aren’t you curious about what he had to say?”

He shakes his head before standing up and heading—again—to the bathroom.

Huh.

The second time it happens, it leaves you and your friends bewildered.

“And so that’s how yesterday’s patrol ended up with me getting a special interview with TBS,” Mina says proudly.

You chuckle, amused. “That’s amazing, Mina.”

From where she’s seated beside you in the booth of your favorite bar, she grins. “Yeah, well I try!”

Kirishima, who’s sitting opposite the both of you, chimes in. “You have to tell Bakubro that story.”

“Where is he, anyway?” Mina asks.

You squint, looking through the glass windows of the bar. “I think he’s still searching for a parking space.”

At that, Mina cocks her head to the side in confusion. “But it’s been a while since you guys arrived?”

“Yeah…”

You pick up your phone, thumbing through the contacts until you arrive at the one marked with the red asterisk.

Emergency contact.

You’re in the middle of quickly typing out a where r u when Mina, the ever meddling Mina, peers over your shoulder unbeknownst to you.

“You named his contact…Bakugou?”

Attention divided between texting and talking with your friends, you retort lamely with: “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Kirishima pipes up. “It’s just that couples usually save each other’s contacts as sweet pet names.”

Mina nods in agreement. “For example, I have Ei saved as baby, with a red heart.”

Before you can even defend yourself, let alone playfully gag at the nickname Mina has given Kirishima, Bakugou appears at your table, sitting down at the booth next to Kirishima and in front of you, uncharacteristically quiet.

When you lock eyes, you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly— denoting a question: everything okay?—but he doesn’t sustain eye contact.

Instead, he stands up again quite abruptly.

“Restroom,” he explains curtly, stuffing his hands in his pockets before walking away, leaving the three of you speechless.

The third time it happens, it happens in his childhood home.

You didn’t expect to meet his parents this early on in the relationship; you haven’t even been together for a year. Yet Bakugou was determined to introduce you to them, said something about his sharp intuition telling him something or whatever.

Which is how you now find yourself in the living room of the place where he grew up, poring over photo albums like how dehydrated animals in hot climates pore over water.

With his mother, of all people.

“And this is him when his quirk first manifested,” Mitsuki explains, speeding through the pages of the album whilst grinning. You can’t help but grin back.

She points to a rather old photograph on the last page. “And this one is him playing baseball in 8th grade.”

Intrigued, you move closer to see the picture, smiling when you spot him, crimson eyes and ash blonde locks sticking out like a rose amidst the thorny bushes—impossible to miss.

Wanting to fill the air, you offer: “Bakugou was a very cute kid, Mitsuki-san.”

In a flash, she looks up at you, a puzzled look decorating her beautiful features, instead of the look of gratitude you were aiming for.

When you look back at her with confused eyes yourself, she asks, “You still call each other by your last name?”

“Oh—I—uh…”

You eye Bakugou who’s in the kitchen, chopping fresh vegetables for the salad, as per his mother’s instructions.

You convince yourself that he’s got to be out of earshot.

Stumbling over your words again, you scramble for purchase. “Well—”

To your relief, Mitsuki only laughs good-naturedly in response, cutting you off.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I know my Katsuki can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but inside he’s a real softie who appreciates the little things.”

You could simply nod in response.

From the kitchen, Bakugou announces: “I’m going to the restroom. Start eating without me.”

A fourth time does not end up happening.

Instead, you find yourself riding the elevator to the rooftop of Bakugou’s apartment complex, where he’s already waiting for you.

‘I’ll just go ahead’ is what he said after both of you finished cleaning the dishes from dinner. ‘Make sure to catch up’.

Before you know it, the elevator doors slide open and you step out, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the heavy feeling now sitting in your stomach.

Will you finally figure out why Bakugou’s been acting a bit off lately?

You immediately spot him, back turned against you, and arms folded across his chest, resting on top of the railing.

Slowly, you walk towards him, ultimately situating yourself to his right.

A tense—albeit not uncomfortable—silence falls upon you.

Neither of you says anything until you pipe up with: “Is there bad news?”

At that, he finally turns his head to look at you. “Hah?”

You school your expression into a pensive one. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” he exclaims, his entire body now facing you in a frantic hurry. “No!”

You chuckle. “Then what’s with the bad news face?”

“Bad news face?”

Nodding, you continue. “The face you make when you hear or are about to deliver bad news. It’s the more solemn iteration of your scowl.”

“What—” he scoffs, although he sounds pleased, “—You’ve fucken memorized my expressions?”

You shrug sheepishly.

When he doesn’t say anything in return, you prod further. “How bad is it?”

He huffs, breaking eye contact. “No bad news. Just—it’s…shit, never mind.”

“It’s just me,” you remind him. “It’s okay.”

With your reassurance, you can see his body relaxing a little bit, though he still refuses to say anything.

A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Bakugou finally looks you straight in the eye.

“Why the fuck do you call me Bakugou?

You stare at him. “...because it’s your name?”

Whatever he wanted to hear from you, it sure wasn’t that.

He scoffs. “Yeah? Well, why do you call shitty hair Ei or shitty deku Izuku? Have I failed some fucking test to qualify for first name privileges?”

“What are you talking about?”

This is what made him act weirdly the past week?

“Don’t make me say it again, woman,” he spits, although there’s not much venom coating his words.

“God,” he combs through his hair in frustration, “this is fucking humiliating.”

“I call you Bakugou because that’s what I called you back when we were just friends,” you try to reason. “Also, I…I didn’t want to start calling you Katsuki out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you finish, voice small.

“Who said I wanted you to call me that?”

 You shoot him a knowing look.

You stare at each other for a few more seconds before he groans in defeat, turning to face the city skyline instead of you. You follow suit, opting to look up at the stars that seem to be twinkling extra tonight.

Moments pass with neither of you saying anything.

You gently bump his shoulder with yours.

“For what it’s worth,” you start, “I don’t think there’s anything to be embarrassed about.”

He only grunts in response. You press on.

“The fact that you just told me all this…I don’t know. It makes me happy. It’s sort of like saying you care enough about our relationship to communicate even the most ‘humiliating’—your words not mine—of concerns.

“Of course I fucking do, dumbass,” he retorts. “Wouldn’t have confessed to you if I was just gonna chicken out at some point like a loser.”

You smile at him and his words, and you hope your adoration translates to your face, because the thing with Bakugou is that sometimes you have to deliver the message without having to utter the words—all to preserve the moment before it’s adulterated by shame.

“Right,” you look at him, “why don’t you call me by my first name?”

“Figured I haven’t earned it yet,” he says bluntly.

Amused, you push forward. “And how were you planning to earn it?”

He shoots you a glare. “By being the best fucking boyfriend, that’s how.”

At that, you cannot help the delighted laughter that erupts from you.

He side-eyes you, annoyed, though a smile manages to crack through the facade.

“Stop laughing at me.”

And when you don’t: “Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you exclaim, trying to catch your breath. “I’m just happy.”

He studies you for a beat, eyes fluttering across your face as if he’s searching for something. You feel yourself grow warmer under his piercing gaze.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally says: “Call me Katsuki.”

You grin, “Okay, Katsuki.”

At your mention of his name, the scowl plastered on his face eases a little into a neutral—borderline happy—expression.

“And I’ll call you by your first name…” he declares, “if you’re fine with it or if not, just forget I said that.”

You take his hand and squeeze it before he can ramble some more.

“Sounds good to me, Katsuki.”

bonus:

“I swear,” you argue while putting on your shoes, “I can ride the subway, Katsuki.”

“At this hour?” he snorts.

“Best fucking boyfriend, remember?” he sneers as he obtains his car keys by the doorway. “Just let me do this for you.”

You relent, knowing better than to fight with Katsuki on the matter of your safety, when suddenly a brilliant idea dawns on you.

Straightening up, you say: “I don’t think I saw you drinking water after dinner, Katsuki.”

“What?”

“Go hydrate yourself,” you command.

At that, he grumbles but submits to you anyway, walking back to his tidy kitchen.

Once you see that he’s in the middle of chugging down a bottle, you call: “Katsuki?”

He grunts—the best he can do while downing a bottle of water—in response.

“Can I call you babe?”

Bakugou chokes on his spit.

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

[kirammanswifey]

《Hearts Beyond Reason》

Viktor

writer's note: hello here, ican't explain how much i enjoyed writing this, i have a soft spot for viktor. btw, for those who don't know, this story came from one of my arcane imagines, here is the link in case you want to see the other scenarios, of which i will continue to upload little stories like these during the course of this week, tomorrow it's jinx's turn ;)

link:

warnings: kind of a smut, blowjob, praise kink, mature language, princess treatment for my man, pet names, and a little bit of fluff... just a little bit, we love sassy viktor, also, reader is a baddie.

The auditorium was filled, a sea of brilliant minds awaiting eagerly. Viktor, a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, approached the podium with a modest posture, though his reputation preceded any presentation. With his calm and precise voice, he explained how his latest research in biotechnology could revolutionize smart prosthetics.

From your seat, you took quick notes, constantly reviewing to ensure nothing slipped by, as everything coming out of his mouth was incredibly brilliant and unprecedented. You had covered many scientific conferences, but there was something in his approach, in his ability to balance technical complexity with humanity, that kept you intrigued. Maybe it was his distinct kind of Czech accent or the way his eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding focusing on the crowd in front of him. He was nervous; public speaking wasn’t his forte, you immediately realized, and you found it incredibly endearing.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause. Apparently, you weren’t the only one impressed. You wasted no time and rushed toward him, dodging other attendees as if in a Mario Kart race.

"Excuse me, Mr. Viktor," you said, adjusting your glasses and catching your breath. "I’m a journalist from The Innovator's Journal. Could I have a brief interview?"

Viktor turned toward you, assessing you with a probing gaze.

You met his eyes with a faint smile, your long lashes fluttering in a cautious flirtation. Subtle non-verbal manipulations you had learned over your career, because journalism wasn’t an easy job, especially not for women. Sometimes, you had to make use of certain physical attributes to draw the attention of interview subjects.

But Viktor didn’t react the way others did. He didn’t look beyond your face.

"For The Innovator’s Journal?" he asked, his accent soft yet distinct. You nodded, mesmerized, and he seemed to consider your request. "I generally don’t accept impromptu interviews, but you seem... determined."

You took a step closer, but without fully invading his personal space, just enough to better perceive his scent. His fragrance was an esoteric, almost magical blend—soft yet noticeable. If stars had a scent, it would surely smell like him.

"I know how to seize opportunities when I see them," you replied with a sharp smile, not fully showing your teeth, as if toying with the possibilities.

A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed his gaze before he nodded.

"Five minutes," he said, leading you to a quieter corner.

You blinked quickly, not expecting such an ultimatum. However, you didn’t keep him waiting and pulled out your recorder. Clearing your throat to keep your voice steady, you began.

"Your research has been described as a bridge between biotechnology and humanity. Is that what you’re aiming for?"

Viktor slightly tilted his head, as if finding the question deeper than expected.

"I seek to close the gaps," he responded calmly. "Between human abilities and the opportunities that technology offers."

"But some critics argue that it could make people too dependent on machines. How do you respond to that?"

You were known for being controversial; you liked pushing people to their limits. You loved seeing their reactions and enjoyed tense environments. Maybe it was a bit machiavellian, but you didn’t mind, you saw it as part of your job.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because he was thinking carefully.

"Dependency isn’t the problem, but how we use what we create. Tools are an extension of our abilities, not a replacement."

He knew what he was doing. He had answered with careful words—if he weren’t a scientist, he’d have had a brilliant career in politics. His response was decisive, but you were expecting more, so you decided to take a risk with something more personal.

"And you? How do you see yourself on this bridge between humanity and technology?"

You asked it clearly regarding his physical disability, as he still walked with a cane and hadn’t implanted one of his much-publicized smart prosthetics.

He paused for a moment before answering. His gaze drifted slightly to the room before returning to you.

"I suppose I’m someone who walks that bridge carefully. It’s a fragile balance, but it’s necessary."

The way his words resonated, heavy with a sort of melancholy, made you forget, for a moment, that you were supposed to be the journalist. There was something more to him, something not easily revealed.

When you finished, you stored your recorder and dared to smile at him again, this time without ulterior motives—a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Viktor. It was a fascinating conversation," you said, tempted to add that he was equally fascinating, but you refrained.

You didn’t want to scare him off. Viktor seemed like the type of man who didn’t have much female contact, you could easily tell by his physical discomfort. When he spoke with you, his body was tense, and he didn’t gesticulate much. He seemed more like a robot than a person.

"A pleasure, Miss," he responded with a slight nod.

There was a brief silence before you decided to take the next step.

"I must admit, I’m not only intrigued by your work but by you as well. Would you like to continue this conversation over dinner?"

You felt your heart race when that question escaped your lips. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off. It was the first time in a long while that a man had caught your attention so intensely.

For a moment, Viktor seemed surprised. Then, his expression softened, though still laden with reservation.

"I don’t usually accept those types of invitations," he admitted, though his tone didn’t sound too convincing.

That wasn’t a rejection, at least not a definitive one. He was evaluating you. Clearly, he didn’t trust you yet. You adapted to the situation and played his game. You weren’t going to let such a man slip away so easily.

"And I don’t usually make them. Few things capture my attention enough to take such a risk. You see, Mr. Viktor, I’m not easily impressed," you replied, maintaining a confident gaze.

His lips curved just slightly into a smile, a kind of wry smirk that was impossible to read.

Viktor was an enigma you were dying to decode.

"In that case, I’ll accept. After all, curiosity is a virtue," he handed you his personal card with all his contact details, practically leaving everything in your hands, giving you the final word.

Your heart skipped another beat, and as you watched him leave, you knew that conversation was just the beginning. Oh, and you couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

Viktor decided to go for one of his typical nightly walks after escaping that room filled with important names and fake smiles. Fortunately, he managed to slip away before getting caught up in that pathetic charade. Viktor despised those events; the so-called "scientists" who attended seemed more interested in taking pictures with him than in seriously discussing their projects. They didn’t care about science. In fact, Viktor often doubted whether they had ever opened a quantum physics book in their lives.

The sound of Viktor's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted sidewalk. It was one of those quiet nights when the city lights seemed to dissolve into the horizon, and the stars began to shine brightly. The calmness centered him, pulling him away from daily worries. During these moments, he could reflect on his research progress but also on the purpose science gave him. Sometimes, when the air was fresh and clear, he allowed himself to think of something more personal.

The conversations from that day at the conference still lingered in his mind. Her. The journalist he had spoken to after his presentation. There was something about her that had unsettled him: her sharp curiosity, her direct way of asking questions, and, most of all, the way she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. That had left him pondering. After so many years in the academic and scientific world, it was rare for someone to go beyond technical topics and ask him something more personal. But she had done just that.

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the starry sky. The stillness of the universe, the precision of planetary orbits—all of it seemed to have a purpose. But in his own life, everything was in constant flux. After the interview, she had asked him out. It had been unexpected, but Viktor couldn’t help feeling intrigued. The sensation of uncertainty and anticipation kept him on edge as he walked through the nearby park.

The sound of a message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the stars, and saw a LinkedIn notification: a connection request from her. Something in his stomach flipped. What was she expecting from him? A deeper conversation, perhaps? It was a world of unknowns. Viktor wasn’t someone who let curiosity drive him, but there was something about this woman—something about her intellect—that kept him captivated.

One step at a time, he thought, as he accepted the request, not really knowing what to expect from it.

Three days later, in the cozy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, Viktor couldn’t stop rehearsing the words he had mentally prepared. This wasn’t the kind of social situation he excelled at; the conference had been easier, more technical. But now, sitting across from you, there was something that made him feel vulnerable. It wasn’t just his work at stake.

You arrived on time. He watched you as you walked through the restaurant door. The warm light from the lamps highlighted your face, but what immediately caught his attention was the way you walked: confident, yet with a seriousness that belied any facade of superficiality. He had seen you in your role as a journalist, but now, here, he couldn’t help but feel disoriented by your presence.

"Are you nervous?" you asked with a slight smile, noticing the small drops of sweat on his forehead.

"No, just... thoughtful," Viktor replied, more out of habit than sincerity.

The conversation began with that slight tug of awkwardness, something he had already anticipated.

You both took a seat, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you started asking him questions about his research, careful to use a tone that indicated you weren’t just interested in professional matters.

“Why did you choose biotechnology, Viktor? It’s not an easy or straightforward discipline.” It was the first time you addressed him informally, and it seemed to please him because you noticed his shoulders relaxed.

Viktor studied your face more closely. In your gaze, there wasn’t just curiosity but genuine interest. Finally, he could see that you weren’t merely seeking more information for your work but something more.

“It’s a way to try to surpass my own limits. Since I was a child, I’ve been obsessed with the idea that the human body can be improved, even when physical limitations seem insurmountable,” he said, his words tinged with vulnerability. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you listening intently. “At some point, I realized I wasn’t just trying to improve my body but others’ as well.”

You didn’t look at him as a distant scientist but as someone who had dedicated his life to a cause. The sincerity in his words struck you unexpectedly.

“But what happens when science becomes too big? When humanity is lost in the process?”

Viktor paused. That was the question he feared most, yet you had posed it with a disarming naturalness.

“That’s what I try to avoid,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “Science should serve humanity, not dominate it. But sometimes... the path forward is uncertain.”

At that moment, the air between you grew tense. Viktor’s universe, which until then had been filled with cold equations and formulas, seemed to crumble a little before you, as if everything he had built was only a reflection of his own insecurities.

The waiter brought the food, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“I’m surprised by how open you are about this. Most people with physical disabilities are quite reserved when it comes to their condition,” you said sincerely, trying to lighten the moment, though the seriousness of the conversation lingered.

“The truth is... no one’s ever asked me before,” he admitted, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed on his lips.

You continued to observe him, this time with more depth, more intensity.

“I think that’s what draws me to your work, Viktor. It’s not just the science; it’s the way you constantly question yourself. It’s as if you’re searching for something more than just solutions.” You were fascinated, and you weren’t afraid to show it.

There was a silence—the kind of silence that invites something more. Viktor pondered how to explain himself.

“The search for answers never ends. And sometimes... that’s all you have.”

You smiled, amused. Conversations with him were always unpredictable. You glanced around the room, noting the soft lighting, the dancing shadows on the walls, the distant murmur of other diners… It all faded when Viktor spoke. Every word that left his mouth seemed designed to disarm you, to subtly but directly pull you out of your comfort zone—a remarkable feat for a journalist like you.

“So, what drives you to follow this path?” you asked, your voice soft but loaded with genuine interest, studying every reaction Viktor gave. With each new sentence, you sought to challenge him, wanting more than his opinion—something beyond his scientific facade.

Viktor looked at you over his glass of wine, his gaze more cautious than he would have liked to admit. The way you were interested in his words was unusual. Most people saw his research as mere achievements or theories. But you saw him—the person, the man behind the genius.

“It’s not just about science,” Viktor replied, but his voice sounded less sure than he had hoped. Something in the air between you unsettled him. There was something in the way you looked at him, with an intensity that made him feel exposed. “It’s about changing the rules, about finding what... what others don’t see.”

You smiled, but not kindly. There was a glint of amusement in your eyes, playing a game only you seemed to know.

“And what do you see, Viktor?” you asked provocatively, your lips curving with mischief. It wasn’t just a simple question. Every word you spoke was a touch, a brush, something that pushed him to let you see more, to say more than he was willing to reveal.

Viktor felt trapped in your gaze but couldn’t look away. Something about you stirred the need to talk, to expose his vulnerability. The tension was palpable; each new interaction seemed like another step in an invisible dance.

“I see a world full of possibilities…” he replied, more by instinct than reflection. He was far from his scientific research, from the cold and calculated equations. Here, there were no formulas he could apply. It was just you and him—and a chemistry as tangible as the air surrounding you.

You let your eyes slowly glide over him as if evaluating every facet of his being, every word, every gesture. It was a silent analysis, one you didn’t bother hiding. Viktor could feel himself being drawn into your scrutiny.

“Is that all you see?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on his, determined to unravel his mask of control. “I think there’s more, something you haven’t said.”

The air between you thickened. Viktor swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat faster than usual. You had hit the mark, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue this conversation—not with the way you were looking at him now, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, though something in his eyes glimmered with more than doubt—there was something urging him to let go.

Without missing a beat, you picked up your wine glass and, in a motion so smooth it seemed casual, brought it to your lips, looking at him over the rim. You said nothing, but Viktor understood the silent invitation. The chemistry was there between you, dense and palpable. The brush of your lips, the way your fingers grazed the glass… Everything was a subtle provocation, a game neither of you was willing to lose.

Viktor leaned slightly forward, letting the distance between you shrink. His breath hitched for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was low—so intimate it almost felt like a confession.

“I’m not a man who lets himself go…” he said, but his words didn’t convince even himself. He was caught in the current of what was happening, in the tension woven between your bodies.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, your demeanor now a little more challenging. Your voice carried a subtle provocation but didn’t lose the softness that characterized your way of speaking.

You were a challenge, and Viktor, though he denied it, was more than willing to accept it—to accept you.

The conversation veered into more personal matters, and as it did, the words became softer, closer, as if the two of you were walking a fine line between professional and intimate. Viktor realized that every phrase that left your lips not only challenged him intellectually but also disarmed him emotionally.

Time flew by, and when dessert arrived, both of you knew the night was far from over. Viktor was restless, but in a way unfamiliar to him.

You, on the other hand, enjoyed your effect on him. It was so amusing to see how he held his breath when you 'accidentally' grazed his right leg with your heel under the table. The way the corners of his mouth trembled, creating a slight pout, as if silently asking for more. You found yourself in total surrender—if that man asked for the moon, you'd head to space to fetch it for him. But, of course, you wouldn't let him know that. Not yet.

At the end of the dinner, after talking about everything and nothing, Viktor leaned forward, looking at you with an expression that, for the first time that night, showed a mix of determination and something else... something unsettling.

"Would you like to come to my place?" he asked, his voice now firm, though tinged with a touch of uncertainty. There was something in his words that made him more vulnerable, as if he needed this connection, this closeness.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same.

"I’d love to," you replied, and your confirmation hit Viktor like a direct blow to the heart.

It was clear: the night had only just begun.

Viktor's house was exactly what you expected from him: minimalist, functional, almost austere in its decoration. Yet, there was something incredibly cozy about the way everything was arranged. The dim lighting, the soft classical music playing in the background, the faint aroma of incense that filled the air... Everything was meticulously designed to soothe, to find the balance he so clearly sought.

The atmosphere was perfect, but you couldn't help but feel that the air was heavy, charged with something more than just the fragrance of the incense. It was as if Viktor's home itself reflected the inner struggle he carried: orderly, precise, but so, so empty.

Viktor watched as your eyes scanned his home with a mix of curiosity and caution. In your gaze, there was something he couldn’t quite read—an air of control and, at the same time, total vulnerability. It was obvious he wasn’t used to showing his private life, but he said nothing.

As usual, you broke the silence first. You approached the living room table, lightly touching the polished wooden surface, your fingers brushing against the objects decorating it.

"You have an… interesting house," you commented in a tone that could be interpreted as sarcastic. You wanted to tease him.

Viktor glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight hint of discomfort visible on his face.

"I don’t like distractions," he replied curtly, but the look he gave you was more complex. A hint of something hidden beneath the surface, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You didn’t bother to insist. Instead, you turned toward him, and before Viktor could react, you stepped forward, eagerly. Every step you took felt as if you were crossing an invisible boundary, challenging every rule Viktor had built for himself. You wanted to push him to his limits, to shatter his perfect facade, to strip him bare in both body and soul.

"I think distractions are necessary sometimes," you murmured slowly and sensually, your tone laden with subtext Viktor immediately recognized.

He stood frozen, unable to look away. Something in your voice disarmed him, something in your presence made him want to open up in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. And yet, he couldn’t resist it.

"And what kind of distraction do you have in mind?" His voice came out deeper than he had intended, with a hint of unease he couldn’t disguise.

Your tongue traced the edges of your lips slowly, not quite touching your lipstick, just teasing, just enough to draw his attention to your mouth. When you succeeded, you smirked wickedly.

Viktor swallowed hard, unconsciously licking his own lips, an involuntary, clumsy act that left him defenseless against you.

"How about a conversation without filters?" you suggested, your voice almost a whisper.

Your fingers moved closer to his chest, gently brushing the lapel of his jacket, exploring every inch of his form with your eyes before deciding whether to touch or not, like a soldier in unknown territory. Viktor swallowed with difficulty, feeling his body respond to that simple touch, that closeness he hadn’t anticipated.

You didn’t back away for a moment, keeping eye contact with him while your fingers still toyed with the fabric of his clothes. Viktor felt a weight in his chest, not just from the tension of the moment, but from the need to step away, to stop letting you control him this way. Yet, something in him didn’t want you to stop.

"What I want, Viktor..." you began, your voice a whisper charged with a confidence that unsettled him, "...is for you to show me who you really are. Not the genius everyone knows, not the scientific leader everyone respects. Just you. The man behind it all. Show me the real you."

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling those words cut deep. He had never allowed anyone to see him that way. He had never let anyone get this close. And yet, here you were, making him feel like it was impossible not to open up to you. Like it was impossible to deny the need to surrender, even for a moment, to something beyond science, beyond reason.

You moved even closer, your lips just a few centimeters from his. The distance was minimal but enough to make the tension between you almost unbearable. Your breaths mingled, and Viktor could feel the heat emanating from you, the palpable desire surrounding you both.

"And if I don’t want you to see that?" His voice was low but defiant, as if trying to protect himself from something he knew, deep down, he could no longer avoid.

You found yourself smiling again, but this time it wasn’t a playful smile. It was a smile of understanding because you had confirmed your suspicions.

Viktor was afraid of connecting with someone. Maybe he didn’t even know how to do it; maybe he never had and had always convinced himself he didn’t need to—that with his machines and equations, he would have enough.

"Then why am I here?" you asked, not moving back even a millimeter.

For a brief moment, Viktor felt trapped. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep his distance. Something inside him wanted to give in, wanted to feel vulnerable, for once, without the weight of perfection he imposed on himself.

"Because..." he began, but his words faded into the air when you pulled him toward you, your lips brushing lightly against his. It was a fleeting touch, so brief that Viktor barely had time to process it, but it left him trembling, gripping his cane tighter as he felt he might lose his balance.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction, any kind of response, some indicator, a confirmation, anything. Viktor stood there, motionless, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. The strength he had resisted with all night dissolved in that contact, and for the first time, he felt the raw, real desire to embrace vulnerability. To let go.

Without a word, Viktor kissed you. At first, it was slow, cautious, and clumsy, as if testing the waters, afraid of diving too quickly. But you weren’t interested in caution; you pulled him into you, craving more contact, more friction, more intimacy...

Your tongue made its way into his mouth, tracing his front teeth and laughing in his face when you heard him sigh in surprise. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck and you took complete control. You devoured him. You sucked and bit as you went. You ate up all his moans and swallowed him greedily.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Viktor, his mind clouded by desire, felt a strange sense of lightness. For a moment, the scientist in him had completely disappeared. You didn't waste his moment of confusion and pushed him onto the couch behind him. Viktor fell awkwardly and humiliatingly, his cane had fallen to the floor, and his long, weak legs were spread wide. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes were as wide as they were bright.

You smiled, he looked ready to be devoured. You took a step and raised your foot on the furniture, placing it right in front of Viktor's crotch. You bent your torso and appreciated his blush up close.

"Don't think about it too much, Viktor. Just... let yourself go. Let me take care of you. Can you do that?" you asked, taking him by his thin chin, he nodded slowly and shakily, like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, and the truth is that metaphor was not so far from reality.

He's not used to relinquishing control, but in this moment, he finds himself craving it. Craving you. And you noticed it, you noticed his desire, his wish to lose himself in you, so you were going to give him your best. You wanted to make him feel good. Really good.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty boy?," you said, pressing the sharp tip of your heel into his cock. Viktor inhales sharply, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, he was like a hungry puppy. A strangled moan escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sudden surge of pleasure-pain. "So obedient and willing to help, to give his best, as always."

He flushes at your teasing words, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coloring his pale skin. Viktor's not used to being called sweet or pretty, least of all in a situation like this. But the way you say it, with that wicked gleam in your eyes and that smirk on your lips... it makes him want to be those things. For you.

Humming softly, he reaches up to cover your hand on his chin with his own, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat is rapid and strong beneath your palm, a silent testament to his desire. "I am not... accustomed to such directness", he admits, his voice rough with need. "But I find myself appreciating it." Viktor's other hand comes to rest on your calf. It's a tentative touch, almost hesitant, but unmistakably eager.

His broken voice. His defeated expression. The way his hand caressed your leg, so sweet yet so hard. It was too much. You needed to please him as soon as possible.

"You're so cute," you had to bite your lip to keep from cursing, "Can I eat you?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your bold question, a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks and other more sensitive areas. He's not used to such crude, direct language, especially not from someone as cool and collected as you show to be. It catches him off guard and sets his heart racing.

As you kneels down in front of him, Viktor's breath hitches in his throat. He looks down at you, his amber eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or deception. But he finds none. Only a hunger that matches his own, a desire that makes his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor nods. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, his words almost lost amidst the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I... I would like that. Very much," he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Viktor's hands come to rest on the couch beside him, gripping the fabric tightly. He's not sure what to do with himself, how to act in this new role of his. All he knows is that he wants you, wants your touch, wants your everything. And so, with a deep breath, he spreads his legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

"Can I take off your pants?" you knew you didn't need to ask, it was more than obvious that you both wanted to. But your goal was to enjoy this new facet of Viktor, you were liking this tender and submissive Viktor a little bit too much.

Viktor feels is heart pounding in his chest as he stares down at you kneeling before him. The sight sends a jolt of anticipation and arousal through his body, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants.

With a shaky nod, Viktor lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breath catches in his throat as you start to tug them down, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the house hits his skin, making him shiver and his member twitch. Once his pants and underwear are off, Viktor sits bare before you, his legs splayed out and his arousal evident. He resists the urge to cover up, forcing himself to stay still and let you appreciate him. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"You're even prettier down here," your compliment makes him choke on his saliva.

The way you look at him, with your eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of his exposed flesh... it makes him feel powerful. Desired. Needed. And Viktor has never felt needed.

He squirms slightly under your intense scrutiny, his cock jumping at the slightest brush of your fingertips against his thigh. Viktor's voice is low and rough when he speaks, his words laced with need. 

"I am glad you find me pleasing. I must admit, I have never been inspected quite so... thoroughly before," his lips twitch into a tentative smile, his eyes darkened with desire as they meet yours.

Well, that was a new side. A sassy and naughty one. And you loved it even more.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He was so sweet, you wanted to hug him and never let him go.

His fingers linger on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw and the soft swell of your lower lip.

It was impossible for you not to smile with tenderness, you let your face rest on his thin hand. Then you looked him straight in the eyes, your desire to tease him never completely went away.

"It's so funny how you keep using your fancy talk despite being in this situation," you had to comment, and as expected, the blush returned to his cheeks. Adorable. "Here, take my hair."

Your request was very unexpected.

Viktor blinks in momentary confusion as you hands him your long hair, unsure of your intentions. But as your warm breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh, he quickly forgets his bewilderment, replaced by a surge of anticipation.

He takes the silky strands in his hand, marveling at the weight of them, the way they slip through his fingers. Viktor's heart races as you lean in, your lips parting to reveal the wet heat of your mouth.

And then, you takes him. All of him. Viktor's head falls back against the couch, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as your lips seal around his throbbing cock. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Your tongue swirls around his length, exploring every ridge and vein with a curiosity that borders on reverence.

Viktor's grip tightens on your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. He was so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you works over his cock, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Viktor's never been more grateful for his weakness, for the way his leg keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to move anything but his hips in shallow, aborted thrusts.

You looked at him without stopping sucking at any time, you were hungry for him. You loved seeing him so vulnerable and so pleased by you. In fact, you wanted to give him more pleasure, you wanted to take him to paradise and bring him back.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as he stares down at you. The sight of you, so hungry and eager, your lips stretched around his throbbing flesh... was almost too much to bear. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as you continues your assault, your tongue and lips and the wet, sucking heat of your mouth pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Viktor's fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair, his hips jerking and stuttering as he fights the urge to lose himself completely.

Your eyes meet his, intense and filled with a passion that makes his heart race.

His balls draw up tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his climax approaches, and with a pathetic cry, Viktor comes undone, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His cock jerks and pulses as he spills himself into your eager mouth, his fingers tightening almost cruelly in your scalp as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure start to subside, Viktor slowly comes back to himself, his breathing still ragged and uneven. It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in - he just came, hard and fast, in your mouth, and you just swallowed it.

Viktor was mortified. A deep, blotchy red spread across his pale skin, creeping down his neck and pooling at his collarbone. Each shaky breath he took only seemed to fan the flames of his embarrassment. His hands, usually steady when working on intricate mechanisms, now trembled as they gripped the edge of the couch. When he tried to pull away, mumbling apologies, you stopped him gently but firmly.

Your hand stayed where it was, warm and reassuring, keeping him grounded in the present moment. “No, Viktor,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and soothing, like a balm for his raw nerves.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice rough and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his golden eyes fixed somewhere far away, as though retreating into himself might erase what had just happened. “That was… incredibly inappropriate of me. I couldn’t control myself… I couldn’t…” His voice faltered, fading into a silence heavy with shame.

Without a word, you shifted closer, carefully settling onto his lap. Your presence made him tense at first, but as your warmth seeped into him, you felt his rigid posture begin to soften.

Viktor swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he tried to continue. “I feel so selfish,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t hold back… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you anything in return. I didn’t—” His words broke off, and he turned his head, as if hiding from you might shield him from his own insecurities. “I’m pathetic.”

Your heart ached at his confession. It wasn’t just his words—it was the weight they carried, the insecurities and self-doubt that had clearly plagued him for years. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was firm but full of tenderness, as if trying to hold all the broken pieces of him together.

Your fingers found their way to his messy hair, threading through the soft strands with care. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. His cheeks were still flushed, and his expression was a mix of embarrassment and surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Viktor,” you said gently, your tone low but filled with conviction. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, his golden eyes darting nervously before finally meeting yours. They were full of hesitation, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. But all he found in your gaze was warmth.

“Do I look like someone who’s disappointed?” you asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Before he could stammer out a response, you continued, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. “This was our first time trying something like this. It’s normal that it was so… intense. It’s a natural reaction, Viktor, and nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He blinked at you, his confusion evident, but you weren’t done yet. A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you leaned in slightly closer. “And if I’m being honest,” you added, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I enjoyed every second of it. I’ve been fantasizing about moments like this since the day I met you.”

The way his eyes widened and his blush deepened was almost enough to make you laugh. But instead, you smiled softly, leaning in to brush your lips lightly against his ear. “Besides,” you whispered, your tone teasing but full of affection, “this is only the beginning, pretty boy. We’ve got plenty of time for moments like this.”

His breath hitched at the nickname, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed. He nodded slowly, his embarrassment still evident, but there was a flicker of trust in his gaze now.

It was then that you noticed the exhaustion etched into his features—the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. It was obvious that he had been working tirelessly, likely pushing himself past his limits, as he always did and confessed to you. And now, after everything that had just happened, the tiredness seemed to weigh on him even more.

“Do you want to cuddle tonight?” you asked casually, though your tone was laced with affection. You already knew the answer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he needed rest.

Viktor looked at you, his expression softening into something that resembled gratitude. “Yes… please,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, you guided him to lie down with you, pulling him close until his head rested against your chest. His arms hesitated at first before wrapping around your waist tentatively, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away from his body.

As you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soft reassurances, you felt his breathing slow, syncing with yours. He sighed softly, his entire body relaxing in your embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, you felt a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Holding him like this, you silently promised yourself that you would always be there for him. To remind him that he didn’t have to face his insecurities alone, that he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He was enough—just as he was. And as he drifted off to sleep, you knew he felt it too.

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows of Viktor's home. The atmosphere, which had been warm and charged with intensity, was now tinged with a calmer, more reflective silence.

Both of you lay together on the sofa, your bodies entwined and your breaths synchronized. Viktor rested against you, his face buried in your hair, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I never thought..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lifted your head to look at him, the light in his eyes still a mix of disbelief and tenderness.

"Never thought what?" you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his jawline.

"I never thought I’d need this as much as I do now." His confession was simple yet heavy with meaning. His barriers had fallen, at least with you, and you both understood the weight of that.

You smiled, feeling how deeply those words resonated within you. There was something profoundly beautiful about seeing someone like Viktor—so used to solitude and sacrifice—allow himself this kind of vulnerability.

"We all need something, Viktor. Even you." Your tone was gentle but firm, making it clear you wouldn’t let him retreat behind his mask of self-reliance again.

Viktor nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and steady. It was a simple gesture but full of quiet affection, a language you were both beginning to understand.

As the hours passed, you talked about mundane and profound things, from his advancements to favorite books. The walls of Viktor’s home, which had once felt so empty, now carried an unexpected warmth—a spark neither of you was willing to extinguish.

Before you left, Viktor reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm.

"I don’t know how to fit this into my life… with you," he admitted. His words were sincere, almost fearful, but his gaze said something else: he wanted to try, and for the first time, he was willing to open that door.

You looked at him, and with a calm smile, you squeezed his hand.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t close the door before seeing what’s on the other side."

And with that, you left his house, though not without one last look that spoke more than words ever could.

[dedicateyourheartt]

Beside Me ( Zayne x Reader )

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ some more fluff because i love him <3 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Zayne knew she would be here soon, scolding him for not taking a break to eat. Sometimes he wondered who was truly the doctor between them.

It was like a competition between them, who could nag each other more. It was like their way of showing affection, a love language of sorts.

He watched the door to his office swing open, unable to stop the way the corners of his mouth perked up. There she was, her brows furrowed and her lips perked together as she saw him at his desk.

"It's 1 in the afternoon and you're here instead of eating lunch," She scolded and walked over to him.

"Hello to you too sweetheart," Zayne hummed as he leaned back in his chair.

His met her eyes, amusement etched onto his features as she leaned down to match his height better. She was always his favorite part of the day, morning, afternoon, night. Whenever he saw her, it made his day better.

"You're always taking care of me and then forget to take care of yourself," She huffed as she reached out and caressed his cheek.

"Taking care of you is quite the job," He teased with a small smirk, earning him an eye roll.

"Yes well...come on I'm taking you out for lunch," She held his hand, pulling him up.

He chuckled, nodding and pulling off his white coat. She was always so convincing, or rather, she never took no for an answer.

The day was nice, the weather cool but not enough to need a coat. She felt him reach for her hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked down the street towards a small cafe.

She smiled to herself. Zayne wasn't the type to engage in public displays of affection but he always needed to hold her hand. She found it endearing.

"A table for two please," She said politely as they walked into the cafe, the waitress leading them to an empty table near the back.

They settled into their seats, looking over the menu. It was a small cafe, one they visited often.

"Look they have a new special," Her voice was teasing as she spoke, "roasted carrot soup."

Zayne couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes, "Yes, then maybe you should get the tomato soup special with the grilled cheese."

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. The waitress came over, taking their order before walking away. She felt him hold her hand, a small smile spreading on her lips.

He pretended not to notice, scrolling through his phone for any important messages regarding patients or upcoming surgeries.

They had a quiet lunch, paying before leaving. They had barely taken a few steps outside before his hand was holding hers again.

"You hate public displays of affection but you're always holding my hand," She said, her eyes meeting his as they walked.

He felt heat flush his face at her comment, not realizing how often he held her hand. In truth, he didn't know why he did it. He supposed he just wanted to make sure she was really there.

Sometimes he had nightmares, ones he woke up from with heavy breaths and his skin dripping with sweat. Ones where he committed terrible acts. In a world where everything was so different, where wanderers roamed the city. One where she didn't exist.

"Do you not like it when I hold your hand?" He questioned, trying to act nonchalant.

"That's not what I meant-" She stuttered and turned to face him, "you just hate kissing me in public or having people know we're together, but you're always holding my hand."

He cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss. She fell against him, quickly melting into it. Her hands gripping his shirt, afraid she might collapse if she let go.

He pulled back a few moments later, people walking past them and murmuring to each other. A few young girls giggling and whispering.

"You are the most special person to me," He said, his eyes meeting hers, "sometimes I just like keeping us private, but maybe I should show you how much you mean to me in public as well."

She smiled at his words, her hands cupping his face, "I was teasing, although I wouldn't be opposed."

He let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they continued to walk back to the hospital.

He looked over at her, seeing the way her eyes wandered around the city and the sights. He felt his heart clench, his nightmares were just nightmares. She was here, beside him, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

[sturnswrites]

the couples menu

bsf!chris x fem!reader

⤳ fluff

⤳ you and chris have been best friends for forever, but after an unexpected comment at your favorite diner, you both start to question how you really feel for each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The diner buzzed with its usual evening crowd, the clinking of utensils and hum of conversation creating a comforting background noise. You and Chris had been coming here for years, ever since high school. There was something safe about this place—the worn vinyl booths, the sticky tabletops, the flickering neon sign outside that read “Best Pie in Town.”

Chris sat across from you, lazily stirring his Pepsi with his straw, his head tilted as he listened to you recount the latest chaos from your day.

“And then,” you said, waving your hands for emphasis, “he just walked away! Like he didn’t just spill an entire coffee on me. No apology, no offer to help. Just gone.”

Chris leaned back in the booth, shaking his head. “That’s wild. Honestly, I think you scare people sometimes. Maybe he thought you were gonna yell at him.”

“I do not scare people,” you protested, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh, you definitely do.” He smirked, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Chris!”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve got that whole fiery thing going on. It’s intimidating.”

You huffed, crossing your arms, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you as they twitched upward.

“Anyway,” he said, leaning forward, “did you at least get a new coffee?”

“Of course. I wasn’t about to let him ruin my day and deprive me of caffeine.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your heart stuttered at the casual endearment, but you quickly brushed it off. Chris had always been like this—teasing, affectionate, comfortable. You had been best friends for, well, forever. It didn’t mean anything… right? 

Before you could spiral too much, the waitress appeared at your table with a laminated menu. She was probably in her forties, with kind eyes and a warm smile that felt like an invitation to trust her.

“You two are just the cutest,” she said, placing the menu between you.

You blinked, glancing at Chris, who looked equally confused. “Uh, thanks?”

“I thought you might like to see our Couples Special,” she continued, gesturing to the menu. “It’s perfect for lovebirds like you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Couple,” Chris finished quickly, holding up his hands. “We’re not a couple.”

The waitress looked between the two of you, clearly unconvinced, but she just smiled knowingly. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

She walked away, leaving you both sitting there in stunned silence.

Chris was the first to break it, a laugh escaping his lips. “Well, that was… something.”

“She thought we were a couple,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Can you blame her? We’re here all the time, we’re laughing, having a great time. We probably do look like a couple.”

You stared at him, your heart doing that annoying flutter thing it had been doing lately whenever he was around. “You’re not seriously saying we should just go along with it.”

“I’m saying,” he said, picking up the menu, “ten bucks off dessert isn’t a bad deal.”

“Chris!”

“What? It’s practical. Plus, free dessert.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help laughing. He always had a way of making things light, even when your stomach was doing anxious flips.

The rest of the meal went on mostly as usual, though you couldn’t shake the lingering tension from the waitress’s assumption. Every so often, Chris would catch your eye, a small smile tugging at his lips, like he was amused by the whole situation.

When the bill came, the waitress gave you another warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hope you two have a lovely night.”

Chris thanked her, his voice smooth and easy, but you felt like your face might catch fire.

Outside, the evening air was cool against your flushed skin. You walked side by side toward Chris’s car, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, stopping just short of the car.

You turned to face him, your pulse quickening at the serious look on his face. “What’s up?”

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking to the ground before meeting yours. “Can we talk about tonight? The whole ‘couple menu’ thing?”

Your stomach twisted, heart beating faster and faster. “What about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, letting out a small laugh. “It just… it got me thinking. About us.”

Your heart was pounding now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “What about us?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, don’t you think it’s weird? Like, why does everyone always assume we’re together?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I guess we spend a lot of time together. People just assume.”

“Yeah, but I mean, I think it’s more than that,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s the way we are around each other. We laugh, we tease, we’re comfortable. I don’t blame people for thinking we’re a couple because… sometimes, I think about it too.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. Your voice came down to a whisper from the shock you were feeling. “You… what?” 

He sighed, his breath visible in the chilly air. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Years actually. And tonight just made me realize I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Your breath caught, your heart hammering in your chest. “Chris…”

“I get it if you don’t feel the same way,” he rushed on, his voice tinged with nervousness. “I just… I had to tell you. Even if it messes things up, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I can’t keep moving on wondering what could be between us.”

You stared at him, your emotions swirling in a confusing mess of shock, joy, and fear. Finally, you took a shaky step forward. “Chris, I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I feel the same way. I think I’ve been in love with you for years, and I was just too scared to admit it. I’ve tried so hard to move past it because I never wanted it to be the reason that I… lost you.” as you swallowed hard unsure of what he was going to say next. 

His eyes widened, hope flickering across his face. “You mean that?”

You nodded, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I mean that.”

Relief washed over him, and before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

“I was so scared I’d ruin everything,” he murmured into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “If anything, you made it better.”

He smiled, his eyes shining as he leaned his forehead against yours. “So… are we a couple now?”

You grinned, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “I guess we are.”

“Good,” he said, his voice steady. “Because I don’t think I could ever let you go.”

And just like that, everything between you and Chris fell into place, as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

still don’t really know what I’m doing but this was fun to write 😛

⭒ margot

[satsugacafe]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐫𝐲𝐮’𝐬 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: hi! if ur requests are open still can you write some hcs for uryu with an s/o who really likes his glasses and is fixed on them? ty!

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍 : Hope you enjoy it anon!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𑁍 Initially, Uryu finds your fixation on his glasses a bit amusing but endearing. He would notice how your eyes light up whenever he adjusts them or cleans them. “You really like these, don’t you?” he asks with a small smile as he catches you staring at his glasses again.

𑁍 He starts to playfully tease you about it, sometimes adjusting his glasses in an exaggerated manner just to see your reaction. “Are you paying attention to me or just my glasses?”

𑁍 He’s thorough about keeping his glasses clean, and he appreciates it when you offer to help. He finds it sweet how careful and gentle you are with them. He’ll watch with a soft expression as you carefully wipe the lenses.

𑁍 He enjoys the way you compliment his glasses, often blushing slightly at your enthusiastic praise. “You look so handsome with your glasses,” you say, and he turns slightly pink, adjusting them nervously.

𑁍 Sometimes, Uryu will let you try on his glasses, even though they make your vision blurry. He finds it adorable how excited you get.

𑁍 He appreciates your interest in his glasses because it makes him feel seen and valued for something that is a significant part of his identity.

𑁍 Might even consider getting a matching pair for you, thinking it would be a cute way to share something special with you. “What do you think about getting a pair like mine?”

𑁍 He loves the way you always notice when he gets a new pair or changes the style slightly, and he values your opinion on his choices. “Do you like these new frames?” he asks, showing you his latest pair.

𑁍 Sometimes he catches you staring at him when he’s deep in thought, adjusting his glasses absentmindedly, and it makes him feel a bit self-conscious but happy. “Is there something on my face?” he asks, noticing your gaze. “No, just admiring,” you reply with a grin.

𑁍 He finds it incredibly sweet when you express concern if his glasses get damaged or dirty, and he reassures you that he can fix them. Sometimes it ends with you two bickering about who gets to fix his glasses as if it was a vase or broken window.

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[xuchiya]

"a special gift" || jeong yunho || one-shot

|genre: non!idol yunho. fluff. girlfriend! reader |mentions: nothing. just fluff.

The cozy living room was bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights strung along the walls and tree. The faint sound of holiday classics played in the background, blending with the crackling warmth of the fireplace. You sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by rolls of festive wrapping paper, tangled ribbons, and a small mountain of gifts waiting to be adorned.

Across from you, Yunho was meticulously wrapping a box, his brows furrowed in concentration. His large hands fumbled slightly with the delicate paper, but his determination to make each present perfect was endearing.

"You know," you teased, glancing at the uneven edges of his handiwork, "you could always let me help you with the tricky ones."

Yunho shot you a playful glare, his lips quirking up in a smirk. "And miss out on the satisfaction of doing it myself? Never."

A comfortable silence settled between you as the two of you worked side by side, occasionally passing scissors or tape. You’d just finished tying a neat bow when you noticed Yunho had stopped wrapping. Instead, he was staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What?” you asked suspiciously, narrowing your gaze at him.

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice too innocent to be believable.

Moments later, you were distracted by a particularly stubborn roll of ribbon. When you looked up again, Yunho had vanished from his spot on the floor.

"Yunho?" you called, glancing around.

Before you could stand to search for him, a deep chuckle came from behind the tree. Your brows furrowed, and then you saw it—him. Your mouth hangs open in surprise as your eyes gaze on the tall man.

Jeong Yunho had wrapped himself in Christmas paper, the shiny red and green material crinkling as he moved into position beneath the tree. He had a red ribbon clamped between his teeth, his grin wide and proud as he stretched out on the floor like a hilariously oversized present. 

"Ta-da!" he announced, wiggling his brows and attempting a mock pose. You blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “Yunho! What are you doing?”

“Being the best gift you’ll ever get,” he said cheekily, his voice slightly muffled by the ribbon still in his mouth.

Your laughter grew louder as you clutched your stomach, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "You’re ridiculous!"

“Ridiculously cute,” he corrected, wagging his brows again.

Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone, snapping a picture of him in all his absurd glory. “This is going in the family album,” you said between giggles.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, though the amused grin on his face betrayed his protests. "I did this for you, you know."

You moved closer, kneeling beside him as he sat up slightly, the crinkling of the wrapping paper filling the air. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his gaze softening.

“All jokes aside,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender tone, “being with you is the best part of this Christmas. You’re my favorite person, my favorite everything.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, your heart swelling. “You’re lucky you’re so sweet,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven for being ridiculous?”

You laughed, pulling back to meet his twinkling eyes. “Maybe. But only if you help me finish wrapping these presents."

“Deal,” he said, unwrapping himself from the paper with a dramatic flair. As he joined you again by the pile of gifts, the two of you worked together, your laughter and playful banter filling the room with the kind of warmth that only Christmas could bring.

[kxttqi]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

s. gojo x f!reader ✧  fluff ; not proofread ahaha ; christmas special !

この 物語 で ⇢ he proposes to you on christmas eve .

soft moonlight gleams upon the snow-laden streets, blanketing them with a quiet stillness that only comes at the height of winter. each breath you take is visible in the cold december air, and your boots crunch lightly through the powdered frost beneath as you hurry to keep up. neon reds and greens reflect faintly off shop windows, a kaleidoscope of christmas lights blurring in your peripheral vision as the wind teases at your scarf. somewhere in the distance, the faint bell chime of a salvation army volunteer jingles like far-off sleigh bells, joining the distant hum of christmas songs spilling out of café doors and dim-lit storefronts.

"would you stop running off?" you whisper-yell, just as a puff of breath escapes your lips. satoru’s always like this — taller than anyone else, obliviously confident, and a streak of childlike mischief wrapped around an impenetrable core of too much power for one man to hold. his platinum hair is bright beneath the holiday lights, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he turns his head back toward you, grinning like a satisfied fox.

"i’m not running," he replies with a breezy shrug, placing extra emphasis on his long strides. “i’m leading. big difference.”

you mutter his name beneath your breath in semi-annoyance, and he slows down just enough for you to hobble at his side, cheeks flushed from exertion and the nip of the winter wind. he dips his head closer, amusement glittering unmistakably in those electric blue eyes of his, glowing even brighter than the string lights hanging up above.

“y’know, if your legs were just a little longer…” he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you elbow him through his thick wool coat, immediately greeted with the unmistakable sound of his laughter, sharp and just a little too loud for this sleepy christmas eve. if it weren’t for the fact his face was sculpted like some modern michelangelo piece, you might have actually slugged him.

“i have the ticket home,” you remind him pointedly, fingers shoved into the warm depths of your coat pockets. “you really wanna miss our train back to tokyo? you’d sulk the whole ride tomorrow.”

“nah, i’m good,” he assures you, mock solemn as he ducks his head against another onslaught of wind. “in fact… this is me slowing down! such a considerate boyfriend, right?”

the streets have emptied; most people are home now, wrapped in blankets by crackling fires or sipping holiday drinks among friends and family. the two of you are outliers — wandering the quieter streets, half-aimless now. it’s not so cold that you mind. honestly, the world feels a little softer tonight, like every hard edge has been dulled beneath a layer of frost and good cheer.

"where are we even going, satoru?" you sigh finally, stopping in your tracks and crossing your arms against your chest. the streetlight above flickers faintly, casting warm golden hues against plates of unbroken snow and two long shadows stretching towards each other on the asphalt. it’s hard to look away from him — as always, he seems completely at home in the chaos he creates, dressed neatly but somehow slightly disheveled. snowflakes linger on his lashes, an annoying but endearing imperfection against the surreal sharpness of his face. it’s like he belongs to the winter itself, something untouchably beautiful yet cold enough to bite.

“wait,” you realize, groaning. “you don’t even have a plan, do you?”

satoru grins again, a little boyish now as he rubs the back of his neck. “do i ever?”

“you’re hopeless.”

“i do have… something in mind,” he insists, drawing out the pause dramatically. “c’mon, we’re almost there! well, sort of. we’re getting warmer.”

you squint at him suspiciously, but there’s only so much of that you can do when he’s peering at you like he knows all the world’s secrets, like he expects you to give up because he already knows how this scene is going to play out. you unfold your arms just to stuff your cold fingers deeper into the warmth of your coat. sighing, you follow him through the streets because you always do — no matter what antics gather like snowflakes around his heels, you’ve never been very good at walking away.

the city opens up after another stretch of blocks, the quiet streets falling into the sprawling expanse of frozen parks and the faint reflection of city skyscrapers off the inky black river just ahead. the snow by the riverbank crunches loud beneath your steps as the two of you veer slightly from the path, your breath hitching when you see the skyline faintly mirrored in the thin layer of ice atop the surface.

the stars, brighter here than in the heart of the city, twinkle faintly as orange and hazy blue lights stretch out row by row against the backdrop of the otherwise dark, glassy water.

“here we are,” satoru announces, raising his arms out like the proud ringmaster of an empty circus.

you glance around skeptically, brow raised.

“a frozen river in the middle of nowhere?”

“it’s called ambiance,” he corrects you with a playful tap to your nose. “you don’t get it.”

but then he’s pulling something from his pocket, his scarf slipping slightly as you watch him drop down to one knee. it's so unlike him to be still and steady like this, hands no longer performing flourished, over-the-top gestures. he looks up, the whiteness of snow alighting against his lashes and the tips of his impossibly pale hair. his gaze is raw now, utterly open, and the real weight of the moment presses itself against you like the chill in the wind. nothing about it feels real.

"i know," he starts, exhaling laughter out into the open air between you. it fogs up faintly, a fleeting blur of warmth in the barren cold. “it would make more sense to wait until christmas day, right? but it’s midnight somewhere, so technically…”

he’s babbling, you realize, watching the sheepish grin slowly tug at his lips — a rare thing for someone who prances through life as though he owns it.

“satoru,” you breathe, the waver in your voice making his grin deepen.

“i know,” he says again, this time softer. "but listen, you're kind of stuck with me, so i figured we should make it official."

your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and the moment he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, your throat tightens. the ring shines faintly, reflecting flecks of orange the same way ice reflects firelight, but your eyes are on his face — on the steadiness of his words, of his gaze, of the unusual quiet awe there as he says your name and speaks plainly for once in his life.

"marry me," satoru says, light but not carelessly. "marry me so no one else can steal you away — as if they could — but, uh, let’s just make sure.” his words falter under the weight of a chuckle he doesn’t quite know what to do with, and despite the stillness of him, his fingers tighten over the box, like it might flutter away if he isn’t careful.

you feel your lungs collapse when you nod without speaking, your hands trembling slightly as you extend them towards him.

for once, satoru doesn’t bother to tease or gloat. he just blinks up at you, his smile gentler than you’ve ever seen it, and when he rises, smoothing the ring onto your trembling finger with the care he reserves for only the most fragile and precious things, you don’t bother hiding the bloom of tears against your cheeks.

he notices, of course. he always notices everything.

“crying already?” he murmurs, his voice soft but confident again, full of the easy dominance that makes satoru who he is. 

in place of a response, you loop your arms around his neck and feel the hum of his laughter in his chest before his hands find your waist. he pulls you just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, somehow thawing away even the bitterest part of winter.

the world belongs to you two tonight, snow dancing gently all around as you kiss him, his fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck with the tenderness of a moth’s wings.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[wandagcre]

fall apart | sam carpenter 🔞

(Normal college gfs! Sam Carpenter x Fem reader)

Living with Sam is thrilling. You wore her favorite boxers and accidentally ended up teasing her. Of course, she gets her way with you.

WARNING: dom!sam, sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degradation, daddy kink (sam), subdrop (reader), mild corruption kink, possessive sam, aftercare +18 / men & minors dni.

Words: 2.7k | [ AO3 ]

This morning had been different, there was something in the fresh air – it's promising as you woke up on Sam’s strong arms, you were snug, and she’s already pressing kisses on your face – progressing from gentle to sloppy ones just to tease you until your eyes were fully opened. Sam loved mornings like this. More so that you have a couple minutes to spare before both of you prepare for classes. She felt giddy enough to insist on being in charge of making breakfast today. 

You sit up on your bed as soon as Sam dips out of it. Unbeknownst to you, Sam can't help but sigh and stare at you lovingly. From her view, you’ve got bed hair, a little cranky expression, and wearing her old sweater - every detail is so endearing to Sam’s sight.

"What’s up with you? Am I missing an important date?" You question, voice raspy and head tilted in confusion.

Sam has a winning smile and she laughs at you. She sees your face obviously racking your head over the milestones you have with her in a span of less than a year.

"Can’t a girl be this cheesy without a reason?" Sam retorts with a hand on her hip.

"I suppose you can be," she has proven to be unpredictable for a lot of moments already. You frown at her. "You didn't eat my leftovers in the fridge, didn't you?"

"Excuse me, I do have some self-control!”

"That’s very debatable. I’m begging you to not burn the kitchen, baby."

"You had me at begging." Sam had a glint in her eye and she stuck her tongue out playfully. She chuckled when you returned it just as childish. “Are we having breakfast in bed or at the counter?" She asks.

Sam was confused by the delay in your answer, she turned around only to see you with a spreading crimson on your cheeks. She clicked her tongue at you once she understood.

Of course, you only heard “breakfast” and “counter” and then saw Sam. 

It isn’t hard to recall your activities in those areas, especially if it was only made last night.

"Perv. I'm trying to be sweet and here you are... thinking of dirty this early? Come on. Have some decorum.”

Why did you have to say that? Now you’re temporarily revoked of goodies. “Ugh. Shut up, you’re one to talk.”

The crankiness starts to appear on the surface with you rolling your eyes. Sam ended up giggling a little because God, she adores you so much and everything you do.

“Maybe you’re the one with no self-control. Don’t give me that attitude, baby.” Sam gives you a pointed look and you yield immediately, nodding your head.

“I know. Sorry. Can I… get a proper kiss?” you sheepishly say.

Sam approaches you. She tucks her loose hair behind her ear and slithers her arms around your waist. She simply held you close, not kissing you just yet.

“Mm, dunno baby, aren’t you missing something?” she moves her face closer to yours.

“Please?” 

Sam finally leans in and brushes her soft lips against yours. It was slow and gentle, different from how intense she can be sometimes. Nevertheless, you loved her just the same.

You ended up eating her special pancakes and even if you giggled at the slightly burnt edges, Sam still showered you with kisses. Both of you proceed to have a PG-13 shower and you thoroughly enjoy it. Sam continued to take care of you and you loved the sight of her bending her knees so you can reach her hair better to wash it. So far, your morning is normal. 

Until you were changing with Sam who was going through her wardrobe. You look at her amused when you see her going through every single of clothes, and her movements between confused and frantic – like she was looking for a specific thing.

“Baby! Have you seen my– oh.”

She saw you in front of the mirror, nothing with your ordinary bra and the boxers that Sam cherishes oh so much. It’s her favourite. There’s nothing special about the details, simply in the color of blue, but it's one of her most comfortable undergarments that she owned for ages. She remembers having told you in passing that she'd like to see you in these inner clothes some time, just because.

So, yes, she's more than ecstatic to be graced with this view, paired with her girlfriend's body still drying up from your shower together earlier.

“Hm?” you hum non-committedly, putting on your shirt.

You appeared so casual while Sam was losing her mind and as though you weren’t responsible for igniting the fire in her loins. She ended up coughing to cover her flustered state.

Sam shook her head, “Nothing. You look good, boxer thief.”

“Thanks!” You grin innocently at her words. You twirl around, looking and feeling the material. “It is really comfy, just like you said.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite.” Sam says, her voice going an octave lower. You still did not notice, even with her blatant staring and you only naturally nod in agreement. 

She shook her head, bearing her thoughts and decided to wear a sweatshirt, pulling it above her head and then some shorts. It was fairly breezy and Sam was easily sensitive to the cold.

It’s safe to say that you were testing her self-control now. 

More so when Sam laid to the couch, opening her notes. She was about to recompose herself, calming her breathing pattern, and begin to study in peace. Maybe she’ll watch a show with you. However, she can’t help but continue ogling at your figure. She let her eyes follow each of your moves, watching you flit with ease at the kitchen, doing the dishes from earlier. Sam had long forgotten the notes in her lap as you presented her an insanely inviting appearance of your ass.

You just had to drop low, emphasizing the curves of your ass, and she saw the way your shirt rode up as you reached the cupboard. From the distance, you hear Sam exhale sharply and this makes you turn around as you dry your wet hands.

“You okay babe?” you look at your girlfriend with concern and Sam merely hummed in response.

She ran her fingers through her dark tresses before speaking. “Babe, what’re your plans for today?” 

A part of you worried that Sam probably wanted a distraction because she knows your schedule by heart. But it could’ve been nothing too, simply wanting you to reiterate your agenda and then squeeze some time with you.

“Um, I want to watch something with you before I read later. Continue that horror movie we’ve been binge-watching, maybe?” 

Sam bounces her legs rapidly, seemingly…impatient? A deep sigh comes out of her mouth.

“Come here – sit on my lap.” She tapped on her thigh, voice stern, leaving no further questions to be asked.

Shiver ran on your spine yet you do as told, straddling one of Sam’s thighs. You hold onto the top of the couch. It felt odd – the uneven pressure felt heavy on your part and it easily pressed against your cunt. It doesn’t help that Sam’s a gym rat – meaning her muscles were defined and stern and you feel most of it even with the fabric of her boxers. 

“Wanna know my plans for today?” You see your girlfriend give you a wolfish grin as she feels you pulse. 

“Yes,” you shortly answer. 

You expressed in passing on earlier times of your relationship that you worry you might be too heavy for Sam, when she first made you sit on her lap. It was in a wholesome context then, yet even now as turned on as you were, you still cannot help but think about how you might inconvenience her.

Sam senses your troubles. She trailed her hands to hike up underneath your shirt and holding you from your lower back, then to your hips – squeezing them. Your breath hitched at her ministrations.

“I plan on doing just you, princess.” She husked out, looking at you deliberately. “This is how I want things to go: I’m gonna need you to ride my thighs and cum while wearing my boxers. You look so good in it baby. I’m losing my mind here and you’re completely unaware of it.”

“O-okay,” you respond, dumbly agreeing with ease.

“But first, I’m going to strip you out of that shirt.”

Your girlfriend tugged at the hem of the material and was painfully slow with her pace. As the shirt revealed more of your skin, her eyes suit followed, you feel as if being eaten at the intensity of her gaze alone. You sharply inhale when you feel Sam’s touch moving to your ribs then up to your breasts, palming and squeezing them. 

She smiled at your reactions – loved how easy it was to pull it out of you. 

You feel Sam much closer as she wraps her arm around you, reaching for the clasp of your bra to remove it next, and her mouth pressing wet kisses all over your shoulder.

“Beautiful.” she whispered before sucking on the skin of your neck. You moan, already feeling the angry red and purple patches she’ll leave there. “I love how your tits bounce. Not gonna spare the chance of not seeing them as you ride me while wearing my favorite boxers, baby.”

You were so lost in anticipation that you grew quiet, and so ready for her to take. Sam was more than happy to see this. She slaps your thigh out of nowhere, startling you. 

“Do it.”

Nodding, you prepare and have your hands depend on the couch to support the rest of your weight. You were less conscious but blood still rushed on your cheeks, feeling embarrassed by your position. It was your first time doing something inappropriate like this and to see Sam looking at you intensely while not exerting any other effort, made you feel so heated.

You wet your lips and sucked your breath. You finally move your hips, rolling them, albeit tentatively – testing out the waters. 

You hear Sam grunting along with your attempt at grinding on her thigh.

“Ah, sorry Sammy, I- I’ve never done… this…” you breathe out, almost finding the rhythm. You feel the cotton material of the shorts being sucked in by your cunt, folding, and the friction felt so new to you.

With your words, Sam growled possessively, her hold by your lower back and hips tightened. 

“I sure hope not. This,” Sam husks, hands more harsh this time as she firmly placed both on your hips, guiding your rolling. “is for me only. Mine alone.”

You sighed in content, nodding stupidly at Sam’s words. The breeze on your dorm did not help as it added to the pebbling of your nipples besides being so turned on.

“Yes, yes!” 

Desperately, you roll your hips more, eyes screwed shut. The fabric was melting deliciously to your liking and the wetness gushed out of you. 

Sam had her full attention to you, cherishing the view unravelling in front of her. Even with eyes closed, you can feel how she’s burning a hole with her siren eyes, staring at you. The thought made you wet as you humped her, now soaking beyond the cotton material and Sam felt it seep on the exposed part of her thighs.

“Are you sure that you didn’t plan this? To whore yourself out to me?” Sam pries, grabbing a handful of your ass and lifting it in a different angle for you to grind better. 

“No- I didn’t, just want- to be comfy,” you stutter on your words and Sam only darkly chuckled at this.

She clenched the firm muscles on her thigh. “Of course, my little innocent angel could never think that way. Look at you, right now.”

You mewl at Sam’s words, your grip only worsened as much as Sam did on your skin, feeling her fingernails deepening too. You feel your folds secreting more slick and you’re absorbed with the odd friction as you hump faster, it’s like a drug you can’t get enough of, as the rubbing is hitting your sweet spots.

Sam bit your shoulder. The sting of her teeth was raw and fresh, making you let out a throaty moan.

She plays with your pebbled nipple, tugging them with force. You groan at the simultaneous feeling while riding her and Sam had to capture your mouth agape, kissing you to oblivion.

You were glistening, moaning, so fucking desperate and it's so beautiful.

"You’re so pretty this way. Head full of nothing, just relying on me alone.”

Your hips become somewhat aimless, completely reckless with your grinding. You just wanted to cum right now.

"Babe. 'm not gonna last- if you- you keep on..."

“Keep on what? You’re the one humping so desperately at my thighs like a bitch in heat. Are you enjoying this?”

When you gave no answer and continued riding Sam’s clenched thighs, arched back, she squeezed your cheeks together.

“Answer me.” she demands with a deep voice. 

“Yes I- I love this,” you struggle to answer.

“Yes what?”

The coil on your lower stomach increased tenfold. You knew what Sam was referring to. Your clit throbbed harder. You bit your lower lip, riding her on a faster pace this time.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Sam grinned at your answer. 

“Good girl. I thought you fucked yourself too dumb already.”

It made your pussy pulse stronger and contracted rapidly and crazy against the fabric and Sam’s thighs. She sees how ruined her boxers were now, thoroughly dark and wet, marked with the damp that was caused by your arousal. The slick had spread to your inner thighs and all over Sam.  

The fact that you looked like this, made Sam so proud of herself. She has rightfully claimed you, in ways that only she could do so. She successfully had her do it in her way, too. The touch of possessiveness in the action that made Sam feel giddy on the inside. 

“God- oh my god, Daddy, I think I- I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you moaned, gasping for air, having no shame now in how loud you could’ve been.

Your thrusts were rapid and stronger, tits wildly bouncing as you rode Sam.

She moans, white hot breath tickling against your bare skin. You felt her rubbing your lower back to comfort you.

“Let go baby. I got you – cum for Daddy.”

You felt the stimulation becoming unbearable yet so good for you. The friction did its thing as you continued to ride Sam’s continuous clenching, as your cunt did and dripped. You feel your orgasm washing over you in relief, coming out of your soaked cunt. It was like a puddle of your mess, but you can’t bring yourself to worry about it right now. You tremble at the new sensation right after you fell apart on Sam, a few tears escaping your eyes.

Sam had you in her grasp, holding you dearly.

“I got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Her arm slithered to keep holding you firm to her grasp, while the other hand was tracing patterns and rubbing you in comfort. Sam’s chin was tucked on the crook of your neck. It was enough to ease you.

Finally, you move slowly to look at your girlfriend and meet her mesmerising eyes – partly heavy lidded – but what strikes you is the way her eyes crinkled by the corners. You can't help but return it warmly. 

“You did so good for me, princess.” Sam whispered as she stared at you. Her hands cupped your face and had her thumb running to the apple of your cheeks to soothe you.

You resume to your position earlier, moving closer to Sam’s embrace, letting out a gasp as your sensitive core accidentally grinded again as you moved. Sam hushed you, murmuring careful - it’s alright. You wanted to be gently rocked in a hugging position for a few minutes to which your girlfriend sighs contentedly in.

“I hope you do know that I won’t be able to get back on studying for today.” you quip at Sam and you feel her laugh vibrate against you.

“Not my fault you had to look so scrumptious in my boxers, baby.”

 

You shake your head when you feel her exhale heavily again, with her strong hands wandering back to your ass. She gives it another squeeze, although it wasn’t as harsh as she previously did.

“You are such a bad influence to me.”

“You love me. Whatever.”

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre