#ah remember this duck

[froggiesoltaries]

Quack 👍

6 years ago, I binged watched a children's series titled "Peep and the Big Wide World." Quack is definitely an amusing character with a kind heart. Why not draw him in my performance :)

[lesbianfakir]

If fakir succeeds in turning duck human what the FUCK does that look like from charon’s perspective like.

Your son brings home a fully naked woman who’s now dripping pond water all over your floor. She has no home no family no possessions she doesn’t even own CLOTHES. You swear you’ve never met this woman before but something about her is vaguely familiar? Your son is talking to her like he’s known her all his life. Cherry on the fucking cake she has the same name as your son’s duck that he adores. You’re never going to see that goddamn duck again.

[dafpork]

it really is so, so nice having such a vast frame of reference for these characters. i've had many of these thoughts and headcanons for so many years that they've sort of coagulated into their own Thing, and so sometimes i'll be like "man where did i even get this from? am i honoring the shorts? am i just making stuff up?" but then i'll go back and revisit and there'll be one short that has an extremely miniscule detail that has drastically affected my interpretation of these characters and i will then bask in my victoriousness in, No, i did not make it up. and the fact that these guys are so versatile that this can practically apply to anything

[typinggently]

remember when Tommy walks in to betray Alfie and they let him have his little coat-fluttering moment with Arabella as the soundtrack. Just a slip underneath it I hope. Okay Miss Femme Fatale.

[pseudowho]

"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"

Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."

"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"

"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."

Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.

As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.

Kento remembered.

He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.

He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.

He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.

He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.

He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.

You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.

"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."

Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.

"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.

Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.

"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"

A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.

"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."

If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--

You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--

"Ah. Good afternoon."

You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.

"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."

A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--

-- oh.

The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.

It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.

With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.

So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.

Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.

"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."

You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.

"...oh?"

"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."

You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--

"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"

"Very, very much so."

[gloomwitchwrites]

can we get a quick drabble of the tf141 going on a super long deployment and finding out their kid snuck their favorite plushie or toy car etc into one of the duffle bags as a good luck charm

Ah! Anon! I love this idea! It's so cute. Dad!141 is a fav. I adore picturing them as fathers so this had me in a chokehold. I hope you enjoy these little double drabbles I put together!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: fluff, dad!141, minor language

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Sweaty and jetlagged, John walks off the military plane with a weary step. Simon, Johnny, and Kyle follow behind, the three men talking softly to each other as John walks ahead of them. It’s a quick stop for a meal before he finally finds his cot in their private tent.

Dropping his duffle on the cot beside him, he unzips the bag, and freezes. On top, resting on his uniform, is his daughter’s teddy bear. It’s light brown in color, missing an arm and an eye, the red bow around its neck is frayed from years of love.

John smiles, a great warmth blooming in his heart. He brings the stuffed bear to his face, inhaling. It smells of home—of you, and of his daughter. The kid must have snuck it in when he wasn’t looking. She’d never part with it otherwise. The bear always stays by her side—a source of comfort.

Now it’s a good luck charm. And a reminder of a promise. The inclusion of the bear in his duffle is a silent command from his daughter.

Come home. Return it to me.

With great care and gentleness, John rests the teddy bear against his pillow.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What’s this?” murmurs Johnny, opening his duffle bag wider.

With a curious curve to his brow, he removes the top item where he glimpsed a bright burst of color. Tumbling out of the folds of a black shirt is a bright red toy racing car. It’s small, the kind you put on a track or push around with your hand. A black stripe across the top cuts the red in half.

It’s his son’s favorite. It’s always in a pocket or clutched in his hand. You’re always finding it in the laundry or wedged between the sofa cushions. He’d never willingly part with it, but then Johnny remembers tucking him into bed one last time before leaving.

“Take my car, Da. It’ll keep you safe.”

Johnny smiles, holding the little red car in the palm of his hand. With a chuckle, he places it on the nearby table, fingers resting on the top. He moves it back and forth, making shroom sounds like he’s in a race.

“What are you doing, Johnny?” sighs Simon, appearing like a ghost from the dark.

“Driving,” he answers, lifting it off the table, moving it through the air in front of Simon’s unamused expression.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

It’s late, and all Simon wants to do is sleep. He’s been traveling the last couple days for the mission Task Force 141 was just assigned. Price says it’ll be a long one, that they might be gone for a few months. It’s not what he wanted to hear, especially since it takes him away from his family.

Simon drops his duffle bag on the ground next to him. He sits on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a headache starts to form. From tomorrow on, it’ll be bedrolls and the hard ground. He should enjoy it while it’s still possible.

Simon opens the duffle bag for a fresh shirt he can sleep in. Finding one, he retrieves it, but something comes with it. A white blanket with pastel ducks on it. Small. For a child. Simon knows it. It’s his son’s baby blanket. He still sleeps with it even though it doesn’t cover his feet.

“Must of snuck it in,” he murmurs, smiling down at it.

Gently folding it, Simon places it on the bed beside him, resting his hand atop it knowing he needs to make every effort to bring it home.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Johnny peers over Kyle’s shoulder. “Have any of those sweets?”

He’s acting coy, pretending that he’s not eager for the caramels you always make whenever Kyle leaves for a mission. Johnny has a notorious sweet tooth, so you make a few extra just for him.

With a wicked, knowing grin, Kyle unzips the duffle bag.

“Let’s see here,” says Kyle, feigning ignorance about whether the caramels will be in there.

They are. He’s already eaten three.

Reaching in, Kyle withdraws the contraband. Johnny groans, snatching the bag from him. Kyle watches with amusement as Johnny pops one into his mouth.

“Piss off, MacTavish,” laughs Kyle as the Scots heads for the door.

With a smile that’s starting to hurt, Kyle reaches back into his duffle bag, and brushes against something made of a smooth material with angled, indented lines. Hand shifting, he finds that it’s round.

“What the—”

Pushing clothes aside reveals a football. It’s a classic white and black, scuffed to shit from being kicked around. This is his daughter’s. He can tell by the one pink hexagon. Turning it, he finds a little message written on the white in black ink.

For good luck. And a game.

[cumironi]

SO, SHARPENING KNIVES, HUH? jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji, shiu, higuruma

summary. you are mad at your boyfriend because you dream of him with another girl, and at 2am, they find you in the kitchen, sharpening knives...

warning. established relationship! jjk men, non-sorcerer, 23 you & 31 them, fluff, crack, petname(s).

#GOJO SATORU

it’s 2:08 a.m.

the house is dark aside from the dim fridge light that leaks across the tiled kitchen floor. the soft metal-on-metal sound echoes faintly, a slow shink—shink—shink that drifts down the hallway like a warning bell in a horror movie. and that’s what pulls gojo from bed—not the chill air, not the absence of your warmth beside him—but that sound. the same sound that made his brain go, hm. sexy and concerning.

he drags himself down the hallway, shirtless and in some embarrassingly expensive pajama pants with little ducks on them, rubbing his eyes as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.

and there you are. sitting pretty at the counter in one of his oversized t-shirts and nothing else, your legs swinging idly off the stool as you sharpen a kitchen knife with deep concentration. the air is thick with unspoken rage.

gojo leans against the doorframe, yawns, and mumbles, “baby, if you’re planning on killing me, at least let me put on some cologne first. i wanna die smelling sexy.”

you don’t look at him. just run the knife across the whetstone again and mutter, “shut up, satoru.”

uh-oh. first name usage.

he blinks, wide awake now, and pads closer with a slow, cautious step like a man approaching a wild animal with a stick of beef jerky. “okay, okay, we’re using full names now. is this like… a sexy roleplay thing or am i about to be on an episode of dateline?”

you still don’t look up. your tone is flat. “i’m mad at you.”

he frowns, pushing his glasses up as he squints dramatically. “why? what’d i do?”

you pause for a second. the whetstone stills. then, honestly, almost angrily, “i don’t remember. but you pissed me off, and i know it.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. opens it again. “okay. so. you’re mad. but you don’t know why.”

“but i feel mad.”

“so you're telling me my sweet, perfect, sexy college girl with the sharpest eyeliner and even sharper tongue is in the kitchen… at 2am… sharpening knives… because she thinks i did something?”

you glance up slowly, face calm, eyes a storm. “do you wanna find out if it’s real or not?”

he chokes on a laugh. “jesus christ, i’ve never been more turned on in my life.”

you roll your eyes, tossing the knife down onto the counter with a clang. “this isn’t funny, satoru.”

he immediately sobers up. walks over, places both hands on your thighs and spreads them gently so he can stand between them. he rests his forehead against yours, voice low now, soft. “okay. sorry, baby. if i did something—even if i didn’t—you’re allowed to be mad. i probably deserved it.”

you lean into him a little, which is a good sign. but you don’t hug him back when he wraps his arms around your waist.

he starts rocking you gently like a damn lullaby, humming something dumb—probably that tiktok sound of “it’s me, hi, i’m the problem, it’s me,” except he sings it in falsetto.

you snort against his neck despite yourself.

“there she is,” he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple. “come on. let’s go back to bed. or you can keep sharpening knives and i’ll lay on the floor dramatically and pretend you stabbed me for cheating on you in your dreams.”

“…it was a dream, wasn’t it?”

“ah-ha!” he gasps dramatically. “so i didn’t even do anything and i still almost died?”

you finally wrap your arms around his neck, sighing as you lean fully into him. “you were flirting with someone else in my dream. i woke up mad and it stayed.”

he grins, wicked and teasing. “was she hotter than you?”

you slap his back. hard. “satoru.”

he wheezes but keeps laughing, nose buried in your neck. “i love you so much it’s actually stupid. i love that you get mad at me for fake shit. it’s hot.”

“you’re insane.”

“and you’re the hottest nightmare girl i’ve ever met.” he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then lower. “but like, seriously, if you’re gonna kill me, can you do it while sitting on my face?”

“get out of my kitchen.”

“fine, but i’m taking you with me.”

and he does—scoops you right off the stool, knives and all, and carries you back to bed like some deranged prince charming. you’re still a little mad. but you’re also warm in his arms, and when he presses a kiss to your forehead and calls you his little knife-wielding goddess, you’re not quite as mad as before.

GETO SUGURU

it’s 2:12 a.m.

the moonlight filters through the slats of the blinds, casting pale shadows across the kitchen where you sit at the counter, elbow propped, chin in hand, eyes narrowed at the knife you’re currently sharpening like it’s the damn source of all your rage. the blade catches the light with every pass against the whetstone—shink, shink, shink—a steady, menacing rhythm that echoes through the quiet apartment.

geto had been reading in his study—something thick, philosophical, probably written by a dead white man—when he noticed your absence the moment he came to the bedroom. and the sound. and the vibe.

he doesn’t bother turning on the light when he enters. doesn’t have to. he sees you in the kitchen like some pissed-off housewife from a mafia movie. the kind that poisons the soup when her husband comes home smelling like another woman.

“...should i be concerned, or is this one of your stress-relief hobbies again?” his voice is calm, amused, but low—like he’s testing the waters.

you don’t answer at first. just scrape the blade again. and again.

he steps in, barefoot and shirtless, hair down and tied low at the nape of his neck. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, a little slouched from sleep, and he stifles a yawn as he eyes you from across the island.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“you.”

his brow lifts. “mm. can’t say i’m surprised. what’d i do this time?”

“i don’t remember,” you mutter. “but i know you did something. i feel mad.”

he blinks. then slowly walks over, rests both hands flat on the counter, leans over just enough so you’re nose-to-nose. his voice is low, soothing, dangerous. “baby. you’re sharpening knives in my kitchen. you’re allowed to be mad at me, but can we at least talk about whether i deserve to be disemboweled or not?”

you don’t flinch. “the fact that i don’t remember doesn’t mean you didn’t do something. you have that guilty little face.”

“what guilty face?”

“that one.” you jab your finger toward his face like it insulted your ancestors. “the one you make when you’re trying to act innocent after being a whore.”

he blinks. then smirks, slow and indulgent. “okay, now i know you dreamt something wild again. lemme guess… i cheated on you with a librarian while you were giving a college presentation and your powerpoint crashed?”

you pause. jaw clenched. “…maybe.”

he hums, walks around the counter, and stands behind you. his arms circle around your waist from behind, hands brushing against your stomach beneath the oversized tee. “you poor thing. had to suffer through my dream whore behavior and a technical mishap? i should be punished.”

you huff. “you think this is funny?”

“no,” he murmurs against your shoulder, pressing a kiss there, “i think it’s adorable. my sweet girl gets so mad over dream-geto being a slut. how much do you love me, huh, if my imaginary crimes piss you off that bad?”

you try to pull away, but he’s already slipping his hands up to your thighs, rubbing slow circles, pulling you back against him. “and here i was, dreaming about waking you up gently with kisses and praise. but no, i wake up to my girlfriend about to reenact kill bill in our kitchen.”

“suguru—”

he cuts you off with a kiss, lips dragging along your jaw, then down to your neck, voice dropping low and rich. “want me to apologize? i will. i’m sorry, baby. i’m sorry for whatever my subconscious did in your dream. and i’m sorry you were stressed. and i’m sorry you were so alone in it.”

your fingers twitch, then relax around the knife handle. the whetstone sits idle. you sigh, soft now, tired.

“you looked at her like you used to look at me,” you mumble, quieter this time. “in the dream. that’s what hurt.”

his whole body stills. then—without hesitation—he turns you around on the stool, tugs your legs open, and sinks to his knees in front of you. his hands are firm around your waist, eyes locked with yours like you’re the only real thing in the world.

“you listen to me, baby,” he says, voice rough. “no one—no one—gets that look but you. no past, no fantasy, no dream. i look at you like that because i love you. because you’re mine. and even if i had to memorize a thousand faces, yours would always be the one i come back to.”

you blink down at him, the lump in your throat making it hard to answer.

he kisses the inside of your thigh. “still mad?”

“...a little.”

he smiles against your skin. “good. keep that knife out. i like my girls mean.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“yeah, and you love me.”

you sigh. set the knife down. and when he lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing, you let him carry you back to bed.

you fall asleep with your cheek against his chest and his hand gently playing with your hair, muttering every few minutes, “i didn’t even look at her in your dream. i bet she had bad eyebrows.”

“she did,” you whisper. “fucking awful.”

“good.”

NANAMI KENTO

it’s 2:23 a.m.

the air is still, the apartment too quiet, save for the gentle scrape of steel-on-stone echoing from the kitchen. nanami wakes the way he always does—immediately, sharply, like his body just knows something’s wrong. he blinks at the empty spot beside him in bed, still warm, still shaped like you. then he hears it: shhhk… shhhk… slow, methodical.

he sighs. runs a hand down his face.

this again.

he doesn’t even grab his glasses. just gets up, pulls on his robe with the resigned patience of a man already done with everyone’s bullshit, and follows the sound.

and there you are. in his button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up like a mob wife, hair a mess and mood worse. you’re at the kitchen counter, bent slightly forward, sharpening his most expensive cooking knife with a precision that’d make a grown man sweat. your brows are pinched together, your lips in a pout, muttering to yourself under your breath.

nanami watches you for a moment from the doorway, completely silent, and then—

“darling.”

you don’t look up. “don’t talk to me.”

his sigh is so deep, so father of three tired, that you nearly flinch. “am i allowed to ask why?”

you stop sharpening for a second. inhale. then, cold as the blade in your hand: “you pissed me off.”

he walks into the kitchen. calm. slow. quiet, like approaching a sleeping lion. he leans his hip against the counter, crosses his arms, and looks at you like you’re both a tragedy and the love of his life.

“...when?” he asks.

“i don’t know.”

“what did i do?”

“i don’t remember.”

he blinks once. then sighs again, reaches up, pinches the bridge of his nose. “so, let me get this straight—i am currently being silently punished… for an unknown offense… that happened at an unknown time… and may or may not have been real?”

you nod, calmly. “correct.”

“and the appropriate response to this was… weaponry?”

“it was either this or throwing your french press out the window. i made the merciful choice.”

he stares at you. deadpan. “you are the most terrifying woman i’ve ever loved.”

you say nothing. just go back to sharpening. shhhk. shhhk.

he closes his eyes. takes a breath.

then he steps closer, one hand sliding slowly around your waist, the other carefully easing the knife out of your hand like you’re a bomb about to go off.

“i’m sorry.”

you look at him then, eyes narrowed. “for what?”

“i don’t know. but you have a very sharp knife and my only other option was dying at two in the morning in boxer shorts.”

you purse your lips. then whisper, “you were mean to me. in my dream.”

“...oh for god’s sake.”

“you left me,” you mumble, voice quiet now, like it’s stupid but still hurts. “you just packed up and left. said i was too much for you.”

something in his chest twists.

his hand slides up to the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw.

“i would never leave you.”

“even if i’m mean?”

“especially then.” his eyes are firm now, voice slow and steady, grounding you like always. “i will take every single mood swing, knife threat, and dramatic 2am dream tantrum. you want to sharpen things? i’ll sit here and read the manual to you. you want to yell at me for dream-nanami being a dick? i’ll write you a formal apology and sign it in blood.”

“you’re such a loser,” you whisper.

“a loser who loves you.” he presses his forehead to yours, tone dry. “and who desperately wants to go back to bed.”

you finally relax, leaning into his touch. “…can i still throw your french press out the window?”

he pulls back. “absolutely not.”

“what if i just threaten it?”

“you are unhinged.”

“you’re in love with me.”

he groans. then kisses you, slow and deliberate, just to shut you up.

when he carries you back to bed—bridal style, with a tired grumble under his breath about dramatic women and sleep deprivation—you curl up against his chest and mutter, “you better not leave me in another dream.”

he kisses the top of your head. “i’ll stay even when you try to stab me.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

it’s 2:38 a.m.

the fridge light is the only source of glow in the dark kitchen, casting this eerie blue hue over your face as you sit at the counter, hunched forward, eyes glassy and distant. there’s a cold can of soda next to you—untouched—and in your hands, the glint of a freshly sharpened blade.

you don’t even flinch when the hallway creaks.

toji appears like a shadow—bare chest, boxers low on his hips, hair a mess, tattoos still visible under the faint glow. he’s scratching his head like he’s just woken up from a nap he didn’t even remember falling into. and as soon as his eyes land on you, sharpening one of his knives with alarming focus, he pauses.

“…the fuck you doing?”

you don't look up. just grit out, “thinking.” shhhhkkk. shhhhkkk. blade scrapes the stone, your rhythm steady and pissed.

toji squints. “uh-huh. are we mad at someone?”

“we,” you hiss, “are mad at you.”

he exhales through his nose, tosses his head back. “jesus christ, again?”

you finally glance up at him, sharp and accusing. “don’t start with me.”

“no, no—i mean, can you at least tell me what the hell i did before you start sharpening my goddamn knives like we’re prepping for war?”

“you looked at her.”

his brow arches. “...her?”

“in my dream.” you slap the whetstone down and rise, eyes burning. “and you said, and i quote, ‘damn, she’s thicker than my girl.’”

a beat of silence.

toji blinks. “...you’re fucking with me.”

“do i look like i’m joking?”

he looks you up and down—your sleepy face, your oversized shirt (his shirt), bare legs, and the murder-ready glint in your eyes.

“…no.”

you slam the knife down dramatically, like you’re giving up murder for now, and fold your arms. “i don’t care if it was a dream. you betrayed me.”

toji snorts. rubs a hand down his face. “baby, i don’t even talk like that.”

“you did in the dream. and you said it with your whole chest.”

he steps closer, the floor creaking under his heavy steps. “okay, so let me get this straight: i got dream-jumped by dream-you, because dream-me looked at dream-ass?”

“correct.”

“and now you’re awake, pissed, and threatening to turn me into sashimi at 2am?”

“correct.”

he whistles low. “that’s hot.”

“toji—”

“no, i’m serious,” he cuts in, wrapping an arm around your waist, dragging you flush to him like you’re not seconds from violence. “you’re insane. dangerously unhinged. sharp object, grudge-fueled, nightmare-fueled rage? it’s doing it for me.”

“you’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, trying to push him off.

he grins, dips his head into your neck. “mmm, yeah, but i’m your annoying bastard. and clearly the man of your dreams—”

you smack his shoulder. “you cheated on me in that dream!”

“and you’re still thinking about me. sounds like you’re obsessed, sweetheart.”

you growl. he laughs. full-on, chest-rumbling, god-i-love-this-woman laugh, then kisses the corner of your mouth and leans in close. “tell you what. next time i’m asleep, come in and slap me awake. remind me that my girl’s the thickest, baddest, prettiest thing in the multiverse.”

you narrow your eyes. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“nah,” he smirks. “i’m lucky you’re crazy.”

he plucks the knife from the counter, tosses it back in the drawer without looking, and picks you up like you weigh nothing—arm hooked under your thighs, carrying you back to bed while you hit his chest the entire time.

“and if you dream of me saying stupid shit again,” he adds casually, “make me pay for it when you wake me up. i’m not afraid of a little punishment.”

you scoff, curling against his chest despite yourself. “maybe i’ll smother you with a pillow next time.”

he grins, teeth sharp. “make it the fluffy one.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it’s 2:56 a.m.

the silence in the house is oppressive, like even the walls are holding their breath. the only sound slicing through it is the rhythmic shiiing… shiiing… of steel grinding against whetstone.

and there you are. bathed in moonlight, crouched at the kitchen table like an ancient assassin. in nothing but one of sukuna’s black shirts that swallows you whole, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess. the way you’re hunched over the blade—sharp, smooth, focused—makes you look like a vengeful spirit.

and it’s clear you’re furious.

but you haven’t said a word.

from behind, a slow, amused chuckle cuts through the stillness like a blade.

“...and what kind of tantrum is this, little wife?”

you don’t look up. you just turn the knife slightly in your hand, catching the light on the edge. “don’t test me, sukuna.”

he pads into the room barefoot, shirtless, with nothing but loose black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. every tattoo on his chest flexes as he scratches lazily at his stomach and leans against the doorway, grinning like the devil himself.

“you gonna stab me in your sleep again? because i still have the scar from the last time you got dramatic.”

you finally look up—slow, lethal, eyes burning. “i should’ve gone deeper.”

his grin widens. “what did i do this time, hm? kill your plants? eat the last pudding? or was it another dream me?”

you stand abruptly, knife still in hand. “you were flirting. with some bimbo in a red dress. right in front of me. like i was invisible.”

“...dream-me again. got it.”

“you ignored me!” you snap. “you were smirking and leaning close and she was touching your arm and you laughed and—”

“and what?” he interrupts, voice suddenly darker, stepping forward. “you think i’d actually look at another woman when i’ve got you?”

“you did,” you growl, shoving the knife down on the counter, “in the dream, you did.”

he stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell his skin—warm, a little like smoke and spice. his hand comes up, grips your chin, forces you to look at him.

“then let me be clear,” he says lowly, voice like silk dragged across a blade. “i don't give a shit about anyone else. i look at you, think about you, want you. even when i’m asleep. you think some faceless red-dress fantasy’s gonna replace the girl who sharpens knives and threatens my life at 3 a.m.? don’t insult me.”

you blink. your pout falters just slightly. “you were smirking…”

he snorts, then suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you up onto the counter like you weigh nothing, standing between your thighs with a wicked smirk on his lips.

“you get like this every time you dream about me misbehaving,” he mutters, dragging his hands up your thighs, “but you never dream about me begging for your forgiveness. where’s that dream, sweetheart?”

you huff. “maybe because you never apologize.”

“i do it in my own way.” he leans in, lips brushing your ear. “usually by making you cry on this counter.”

your breath hitches. “you’re such a fucking menace.”

“and you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” he growls, kissing your jaw, your neck. “look at you, sharpening knives in the middle of the night. unhinged, dangerous, insane—my perfect little nightmare.”

you slap his chest, but your legs instinctively tighten around his waist. “i’m still mad.”

“good. stay mad.” he kisses you again, slow and messy this time. “dream me’s an asshole, but real me?” he smirks, licking into your mouth. “real me worships you.”

you try to stay angry. you do. but the way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he grins like he owns the world and you’re the crown on his head—it all makes your chest flutter and knees weak.

you grab his jaw, bite his lower lip, and mutter, “if i catch you looking at another dream bitch again, i’ll gut you in your sleep.”

his grin is all teeth. “now that’s love.”

SHIU KONG

it’s 2:17 a.m. and the kitchen is dead quiet—except for the low, menacing sound of metal scraping against stone.

you’re at the table in one of his oversized dress shirts, sleeves rolled up, legs bare, hunched over the blade like a mob wife who’s finally snapped. hair messy. eyes blank. pissed.

a sharpening stone. a chef’s knife. your exhale.

and suddenly—

a groggy voice from the hallway:

“…you better not be sharpening that because of me.”

you don’t even look up. just shhhhhk—shhhhhk.

“i don’t know. am i?” you ask, flat.

shiu appears in the doorway, shirtless, gray sweats low, tie still hanging around his neck like he passed out in it. he leans on the frame, rubbing one eye like this isn’t the fifth time he’s caught you looking like this.

“okay. what the hell did i do now?”

you finally pause the sharpening, slow, steady, and look up at him with narrowed eyes. “you smiled at her.”

he blinks. “...who?”

“don’t play stupid.” your voice is low, dangerous. “the girl with the brown hair. in the blue dress. at that stupid little business dinner you dragged me to in my dream.”

a beat.

shiu runs a hand down his face. “…this is a dream crime, isn’t it?”

“you said she had a nice laugh.”

“oh my god—”

“and then you leaned in when she was talking! and you smirked. smirked, shiu.” you slap the blade down dramatically. “you were so damn charming.”

he groans. hard. walks into the kitchen like he’s been personally wronged and dramatically yanks a chair out to sit across from you.

“okay, first of all,” he starts, pointing a finger at you, “i don't even like women who talk that much. if she laughed at one more finance joke, i’d probably have started drinking hand sanitizer.”

you squint. “then why’d you smile?”

“because dream-me is a fucking idiot apparently. just like real-me, for falling in love with the queen of vengeance.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you’re so dramatic.”

“me? you’re sitting at the table sharpening knives like a disappointed italian grandmother.”

“i’m being proactive.”

“you’re being hot.” he shrugs. “deranged, unwell, a little scary—but hot.”

“you always say that when i’m mad.”

“and it’s always true. you should be furious more often.”

you stare at him, flat. “say something charming again. i dare you.”

he leans in, chin on his palm, lazy grin spreading across his lips. “i think you're sexiest when you're plotting my murder.”

you slam the blade back onto the table with a thud.

he exhales, then rises from the chair, walking around the table slowly until he’s behind you. his hands slide over your shoulders, down your arms, slow and unhurried.

“c’mon,” he murmurs into your ear, “you wanna really punish me? come back to bed. take it out on me there. i’ll even wear that stupid tie you like.”

you huff, arms crossed. “the one i used to choke you with last time?”

“that’s the one,” he smirks. “see? you remember.”

you don’t turn around—but your lip twitches. and he sees it.

“you’re impossible,” you mutter.

“and yours,” he whispers back, brushing a kiss against your temple. “now c’mon, before you cut off a finger trying to teach dream-me a lesson.”

he gently plucks the knife from your hand and tugs you to your feet.

“next time you smile at another woman,” you say, letting him drag you down the hall, “i’m putting glitter in all your dry-cleaning.”

he snorts. “joke’s on you. i’ll look fabulous.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

it’s 2:34 a.m.

your apartment is dead silent. no traffic, no buzzing electronics, just the occasional shhkt… shhkt… shhkt of metal being sharpened in steady, practiced strokes.

and there you are—kneeling at the coffee table, hair messy, lips pursed, one of hiroshi’s crisp white button-ups hanging off your frame. a serious, eerily focused look in your eye as you sharpen the knife like you’re prepping for trial by combat.

the overhead light’s off, but the dim kitchen lamp casts long shadows across the room, catching on the edge of the blade every time you tilt your wrist.

you don’t notice the door open to the bedroom.

and then,

a sleepy voice, cautious but gentle,

“…do i need to hire a lawyer?”

you don’t answer at first. the knife just makes another clean pass on the stone.

he steps into view slowly—disheveled, soft gray sweats slung low on his hips, hair sticking up on one side. he rubs the heel of his palm into his eye, squinting. “or am i about to be the defendant?”

you glance up. narrow your eyes. “you told her she looked elegant.”

he pauses mid-step.

“…who?”

“the woman at the opera. in the green dress. in my dream. don’t play dumb.”

there’s a long silence.

he takes a deep breath. “…okay. dream-me’s a bastard. i’ll give you that.”

“you smiled at her,” you snap. “you complimented her earrings. you said she had refined taste.”

he covers his mouth with a hand, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “i was polite, apparently. can i just say—dream-me is way braver than me. real-me knows better.”

you slam the knife down on the table with a sharp clatter. “you told her she smelled like vanilla and cedar.”

he stares.

“okay. what the hell kind of man am i in this dream?!”

you squint at him, full-blown offended. “that’s my perfume.”

his face softens immediately. “wait—are you upset because dream-me complimented her for smelling like you?”

you go silent.

then murmur, “it’s the principle.”

he exhales slowly and walks over, crouching down in front of you, taking the knife gently from your hand. “okay. i’ll talk to him. dream-me and i clearly need to have a serious conversation.”

you huff. “he’s arrogant.”

“mm.” he sets the knife aside and cups your cheek with his palm. “and he clearly doesn’t realize he’s already got everything he could ever want right here, sharpening a very real, very sharp knife at two in the morning while looking ridiculously pretty in my shirt.”

you glance away, cheeks warm. “you’re not gonna charm your way out of this.”

he smiles gently, thumb brushing your cheek. “i’m not trying to. i’m trying to survive the night.”

you roll your eyes, leaning your face into his palm just slightly. “…you said she reminded you of your mother.”

he chokes. “okay, no—i’m innocent on that one. your honor, i plead the fifth.”

you crack a small laugh, finally. he softens.

“you know i’d never look at anyone else, right?” he says, quiet now. “you’re… it for me. even if i’m half asleep, lost in a dream, at a trial, or just doing laundry. it’s always you. only you.”

“…you should’ve said that in the dream.”

he hums and leans forward, brushing his lips against your forehead. “next time, i will. and i’ll tell her to leave the opera, too. loud.”

you mumble, “good.”

“now come back to bed,” he murmurs, tugging you gently up by the waist, “before you make me sleep with one eye open.”

“no promises.”

he smiles against your hair, “yeah, i figured.”

[soapcloth]

CW: soap x reader, brief mentions of past bullying, religious soap, pushy soap - dividers @/cafekitsune

The mortifying case of Soap having been one of your childhood bullies.

You spot him for the first time in years when he tugs open the door to the corner store just down the street from your parent's house—blissfully unaware of your presence as you duck away behind an aisle in hopes he won't spot you.

Despite being years older, its impossible not to recognize his face.

Last time you checked he had fucked off into the military. Why was he back in town at the same time you were? He never had been before.

Grabbing the last thing your mom needed, you wait until he's preoccupied at the fridge to sneak over to the till, ignoring the odd look from the cashier—of course John's grabbing the same old drink he used to make you steal for him. You can still remember the taunting bark of his laughter when you would sniffle and sob after delivering the beverage, absolutely sure you were going to spend the night in a jail cell if they caught you.

Bastard.

Placing the change on the counter you nod and hastily take your leave, about ready to cry tears of joy once you've made it out the shop door.

It's hard to believe he still has that much of a grip on your psyche all these years later.

Heavy breath billows from your lips as you take the crumbling road back to your parent's place, plastic bag smacking against your hip with each step—always the errand runner around here.

Even if the entire world shifted on its axis, you'd still wager that this town would manage to stay as is.

Three more days until you could go home—your real home; the spot on earth you had carved out for yourself, miles away from this unfathomably deep pit. Your scratchy childhood sheets give you a new found sense of appreciation for the set you had bought for yourself shortly after moving out; soft and well-loved atop your real bed, awaiting your return.

A large hand clamps down on your shoulder.

"Christ! Almost missed ye!" John coughs out, panting from his mad dash to catch up to you.

"Me?" you sputter out, spinning towards the towering man as you calm your racing heart.

The new angle gives you a clear look at the angry scar healing on the side of his head.

He beams, pupils a little out of sorts as he drags you in under a thick bicep. His scent is distinctly more man than you recall and his arms remind you of the sturdy branches belonging to a tree; limbs bigger than the ones you remember reaching for you when he used to chase you around the woods—you had thought them impossibly large then... what were they feeding him in the military?

"O'course! Who else but ye? That f'yer Mum?" he asks, grabbing your bag and taking a brief, distracted peek.

You don't get a chance to reply as switches his attention, nudging his nose into the top of your head to practically inhale your hair. he rumbles happily. "Thought I'd ne'er see ye' again."

you forcefully dig your heels into the gravel and wiggle out of his grip.

"Why would you want to see me? Don't you hate me?" you spit, frowning as you snatch your bag back.

You watch confusion eat away at him for a second before his thin lips press into a frown that mirrors your own, dark lashes trembling a bit as he glares a hole through you.

"Hate ye? Ye think ah hate ye?"

You weren't going to do this—not with the boy that had gleefully isolated you from everyone in your age range during the most important social years of your early life.

"Yer daft!" he suddenly laughs, slipping back into his jovial grin. "-Gave me a fright there for a second!" he pulls you back into him with embarrassing ease and begins to walk again, knuckles grinding into your head before he grabs the bag from you, a satisfied chuckle leaving his lips. "Cannae believe ye thought ah hated ye—Had the biggest crush oan ye,"

No.

"-Thought ah was makin' it obvious!"

No—not this.

"Ah was a jealous wee git, detested ye hangin' out with yer pals. Likely made a right fool o'maself." he rubs at your arm with his large, bear-like palm and sighs contentedly. "No matter, Ah'm no a teenager anymore. How long ye in town for?"

you tug your gaze away from the tight-fitting grey hoodie straining pathetically over his muscles, letting it land on your shoes. he notices your reluctance and laughs, giving you a squeeze

"-God gave me a second chance, ahm no lettin' ye slip away—Full steam oan till we’re wed this time, alright?"

[miange1]

hi aaronnnnnnn😎

can you write the sully men smut having a reaction to those sex perfumes? ykwim?

like they already make humans feel weird but since na'vi noses are most likely more sensitive then i wanna know how they'd act.

male human reader btw 😋

Neteyam, Lo'ak, with pheromone "sex" perfume

male reader, mating cycle like symptoms, tails, sniffing, overprotectiveness, breeding, slight dirty talk, praise, begging, lo'ak prolly submissive idk, neteyam is dominant, accidentally going too hard, aftercare, big dicks, they're blue, idk, im hungry, belly bulges

Neteyam

— it really was just supposed to be a harmless joke. Back at the lab you had just seen it lying around and thought to use it, just to make him more clingy or something like that.

— today was a day you weren't in your avatar, so you just stayed in till you were needed or till neteyam would come by and he usually did.

— you had almost completely forgotten you had put that on, the little bottle long gone in the trash.

"Paskalin!" your body jolted with excitement as you heard his voice, the heavy footsteps echoing through your ears as you smiled seeing his big blue body in the corner of your eye.

"Teyam," the moment he stopped foot inside, he stopped for a second, pupils going full as his nose twitched, and tail swished around. You looked confused, looking at him a bit weird. Was he okay?

— he would brush it off, his smile at you toothy as he crouched down next to you to hear about your day. but the whole time you were speaking, his breathing which was steady, started to become heavy and unmatched. his ears pinned down to the sides of his skull, and his eyes fixated on any open part of your skin.

— his vision would be clouded from the smell alone, and his actual words would turn into 'mhm' and then into low growls. it wasn't his fault, it was the smell and it was coming right from you.

"Nete?" your words were muffled and sounded underwater to him, he could only understand the fact you wanted to see if he was okay. but he blinked and you were underneath him.

"Teyam— slow down!" his eyes darted around your body, his full length thrusting in and out of you at a quick pace. his dick was so wet..had he already came inside? he couldn't remember.

his head ducked down where the smell was strongest, his nose twitching once more as he sniffed your scented skin. bright yellow eyes rolling back, his ears quickly making a small flap motion— like a cats.

"Oh eywa.." he mindlessly thrusted inside of you making sure you were spread and he could reach all the way in there.

— you remembered only after that it was the stupid perfume.

Lo'ak

— most sensitive. eyes dilated, tail swishing around knocking almost everything over following you around like he had no idea what he was going to do without you.

— he would make the excuse that you were his boyfriend, and that he just wanted to be around you at all times, yet you knew the perfume kicked in as is. he was getting more possessive than usual, not wanting you to leave his side whether you had to do your job or not.

"Lo, you have to let me—"

"Uh-uh.."

"Lo'ak.."

— you caused this, so you were going to be the one to pay for it. he was allowed to stay on the little mattress next to your work space, but he couldn't stop whining and squirming around. you hadn't minded it, till you noticed his shadow looming above you. you were fucked, quite literally.

he laid beside you, eyes hooded and looking drunk. his hand underneath your knee to prop your leg up so he could fuck you right, and another above your stomach just for the purpose of feeling his girth make an outline on your stomach.

"Feel.." he whispered, so fixated on how deep he was inside of you. your noises encouraged him to go quicker, trying to make you feel as good as ever, to pleasure you as best as he could.

the little 'ah, ah, ah's' and the clenching around him made him go feral. his heart was pumping so quickly as he caught sight of your expressions, eyes slightly crossing and uncrossing, drool leaking just a bit.

he just needed to reach a liiiiittle bit more, just a tinnyyyyyy bit deeper inside. his head collapsed onto your shoulder, his hips bucking into you as he came deep inside to fill you up to the brim. his slightly blue tainted cum spilled from your hole, his breathing erratic.

his eyes glanced over to your dick, noticing you hadn't yet cum.

"not done."

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [YOU WAKE HIM UP WITH NONSENSE] ¡! ❞ pt.2

warnings: Pet names idk some might cringe at that, bad writing, Ace affectionately calling you bitch, some maybe turn out ooc - i just suck at a few characters-my apologies

summary: You wake him up in the middle of the night talking complete nonsense

characters: Twst boys x F!Reader

word count: 4.246

a/n: THIS IDEA WAS NOT FROM ME, unfortunately i can't find the creator so if you remember tag them! My writing wasn't as good as theirs tho

Riddle

Riddle's slumber is disturbed by the sound of his name. He doesn't answer right away, opening his eyes slowly and blinking a few times before he realizes his surroundings. "My rose?..." he asks, voice tired and hoarse.

He sits up, looking over at you. He sees you, and his expression softens. "Are you not able to sleep?..." "Remeber when i was walking my whale in the mountains, and i met two talking closets offering me a discount on money?" Clearly you make no sense, after all this was planned. You have to stiffle your laugh and giggles but you manage to stay serious nonetheless. Riddle blinks a few times as he tries to process what you're saying, his sleepy brain refusing to comprehend the words.

As his thoughts clear, his eyebrows frown as he attempts to make any sense of you talking about closets. Or discounts on money.

He blinks a third time to clear his vision. The expression on his face is pure gold, priceless. He looks adorable with his mouth agape. Riddle blinks a few more times. His eyes flicker as he attempts to discern your words, but he is too sleepy to put together the pieces.

"You walked a whale?" he finally manages. "Talking closets? Discount? Mountains??" He lets himself drop backwards onto the bed again and left out a sigh. "Mhm! Talking closets in the mountains" you softly laugh as you kiss his cheek and lay down beside him. Riddles cheeks heat up lightly, and he cannot help but blush.

"You can tell me all about it once its the right time..." and before you could even answer, he's out again....

Trey

The sound of your voice stirs him from sleep, and his eyes flutter open. Trey blinks a few times, the softest smile still gracing his features. He blinks again and again, finally fully comprehending the situation. His eyes widen as his lips part.

"Ah...yes?" he whispers, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of lingering sleepiness.

"I forgot to tell you that yesterday I was out with my mixer and we saw a duck on the runway having metal teeth." You can tell that the story has stumped him for a few seconds. He blinks, seemingly trying to process what you just said.

Though he knows the words make sense separately, all together they're a rather peculiar combination. He tilts his head, his brow furrowing.

"That's...a bit strange, no? Was it a normal duck aside from its odd teeth?" "Yeah!" His mouth quirks up. You can see a glimmer of amusement flit across his features as he chuckles. "A duck with metal teeth it was then, cool i guess." he says as he tries to form a picture of it in his mind. The concept of an otherwise-normal duck sporting metal teeth would definitely be a curious sight.

He lets out a soft snicker, clearly entertained by the absurd image. "Now," he yawns, "c'mere and sleep with me now, kay?" he mumbles tiredly and pulls you closer by your hips, pressing you against his body.

Cater

Cater's eyes open slowly, as if he was only half asleep. When he sees you, his eyes widen a bit and he tries to focus. His expression is soft and a bit hazy, but he seems to recognize you immediately. When he sees you, you notice a wave of tender affection flood his body as you hear him take in a deep breath before he lets out a quiet sigh. "Whatisitbaby..." he slurrs his words together.

"I baked a broom for you and decorated it with car keys for your happy easter celebration on Christmas!" Cater blinks a few times, before he slowly lifts his head and blinks slowly. He seems a bit confused about your statement, how can someone not. He is too drowsy to respond just yet, so he merely smiles goofly at you gently and lets out a small yawn. His eyelids slowly start to close again, but he seems very content to just sit here with you.

Cater seems to be drifting off sitting, so you decide to let him return to sleep. His breathing grows heavier the moment his back hits the bed again, but you can still see his chest rise and fall softly as his body adjusts to a deeper slumber.

His face rests against your chest, but before he can fully fall back asleep again he slurrs a few words for you. "Youcantellmeallaboutitinthemornin'kaykaybaby?"

"Kay Kay, baby" you softly laugh and kiss his forehead.

Ace

Ace’s breathing pauses for a moment as he remains partially asleep. His eyelids flutter and his eyes remain closed, but he responds nonetheless. "Fuck off Juice...lemme sleep..."

"....bro youre in my room no blueberry juice here-" you deadpan. Ace raises his head, mouth open with a bit of droll running out. He blinks slowly, left eye earlier than the right, and looks drowsy at you. "Right....what's the matter babe?" He drops his head face down in the pillow again after he used all his energy to answer you. "So, yesterday when i wanted to visit the moon i accident took the wrong worm and we ended in the bushes where shoes grow." Ace laughs softly into the pillow and shakes his head at the absurdity of it all. “Ah, yes…I remember. Cool story babe.......now lemme sleep"

Before you can even react Ace wraps his arms cautiously around you and pulls beside him as he lays on his stomach. "You're one crazy bitch...fuck, i love you." He mumbles into the pillow again, before turning to face you and pull you closer into his chest. Ace lovingly kissed your forhead before stroking your hair and slowly falling asleep again.

Deuce

A quiet moan escapes Deuce’s lips, and he begins to stir. He opens his eyes and sits up— you can see that he is still half-asleep, blinking slowly and lazily at the ceiling. “Wha-...ar...are you hurt or somethin'?” he says in a gentle, hoarse whisper.

Your gentle touch on his shoulder has woken him from his rest, and yet he doesn't seem annoyed by it; quite the opposite, in fact.

"No, no I'm not hurt. But i just saw a flying console screaming for pudding outside our shower." "Pudding?" Deuce repeats the word curiously, blinking as he wipes his nose and sniffs tiredly. Your tone seems to suggest that he should find the word familiar, but the foest year seems genuinely clueless as to what you're talking about. He gives you a baffled expression, but you can tell that he's still not quite himself.

If there are any flying consoles out there, they aren't his concern. "Pudding... flying consoles..." he mumbles. "Baby, you want some pudding...?" He ask tiredly, looking over at clock on the wall, luckly the moonlight lets him see the time. "At..." he squint his eyes, "8 am?"...3 am but you don't want to burst his bubble just yet.

"I can wait till 8 am, no biggie" you say, smiling at how concerned but also confused he is. Although hes tired he still tries to be a good boyfriend for you. "M'kay...g'night..."...out like a light.

Leona

"Hmm" Leona groans. His hands trail up and down beside him lookung for your body to pull you closer against his body. But he didn't found you, instead you were sitting up. "Herbivore,...c'mere already."

He's still slightly groggy from sleep. Its common knowledge, waking Leona Kingscholar up is an unofficial crime. And now you even left his arms, the audacity. Good thing hes way to tired at 2am.

"I was looking for my teapot but instead found a dancing glass of ice tea waiting at the traffic light to turn into a tulip." "Ah... what?" Leona murmurs, slowly shifting upward. His gaze is still half-lidded by sleep; his eyes have yet to come back into focus.

He blinks at you a couple of times, before finally rubbing his eyes and frowning. Leona looks somewhat annoyed. "What nonsense are you saying?" He blinks some more, his voice still rough with sleepiness. "I...I love you come back and sleep." And since you didn't immediately react to him he growls back a, "Now."

Ruggie

Ruggie stirs at your voice, ears laying flat and lazy against his head. He opens his eyes slowly and looks at you with half lidded, sleepy eyes. "Mmm...is it morning already?" he asks quietly. "No." You smile gently at him and kiss his cheek. He smiles dopey and falls back against the pillows. "But...when I tried to read the picture about the story of the bear who went jogging in the clouds, i got confused."

Ruggie is just as confused. But smiles slightly as he props himself up in bed. He rubs his eyes, his expression one of amusement layered with tiredness.

"Ya know..., you really need to stop askin' me to help you with your homework,” he mumbles. "Huh?" "...Huh?" "....oh-" "yeah?..." Ruggie didn't know what he said, neither did he knows what he actually understood. And neither did you. You both just blink at each other looking confused, before he drops down into the pillows again and holds his arms out for you. "Come back and cuddle...ya silly little minx"

Jack

His ears twitch at the sound of your voice, and his eyes dart open in a sharp flutter. Blinking away the lingering sleep from his eyes, the world comes into focus.

When he realizes that its only you in front of him, he relaxes. "Are you not feeling well?" He's definitely not wide awake but isn't half asleep either. He quickly sits up too and puts his hand on your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb as he looks at you worried. That would make you melt under normal circumstances, but you had other plans this night. "I was attacked by a wild blueberry and it wanted to read my eyelashes off my nails."

Jack blinks. His thumb stops moving as he is processing your words slowly. "... You're... you're..." He trails off at the nonsensicality of the sentence. The words don't register, and he looks at you with confusion. His brow furrows.

"What?"

You can't help but giggle. "Alright...time for you to get some sleep, hm?" Jack sounds exhausting, from being sleepy and from you. He stroke your cheek lovingly one last time, before you cave in and lay back into bed. "Good girl...", sudden tiredness came over Jack and he lays back beside you, pulling you against his chest.

Azul

The voice breaks him from his slumber. He flinches in surprise, waking from a deep sleep. His lavender eyes shoot open. They look at you with a certain amount of fright — until they register your face, in the darkness of your bedroom.

"Pearl?" His voice is a whisper— husky with sleep, but soft all the same. "If a snail flys into a tree, does it turn pink or will it eat chips?" You immediately hit him with your nonsense, no mercy. Azul stares at you in utter confusion. His face is one of uncertainty, and a touch of amusement as he tries to make sense of your question.

He settles on a response, but is not entirely confident in its truth. "I do not know, Pearl." He murmurs. "But what i know is that you should be asleep." You know he's right, but you also just wanted to have some fun. Azul gently pulls you back against his chest. He smiles at you warmly as he wraps your body in his arms.

He presses his lips to the top of your head. His hands come up to your hair, fingers threading through yours and gently stroking you, brushing them down your back to soothe your weary bones. "We can...discuss this tomorrow..." You just nod, snuggling up to him. Teasing him didn't work, but at least you got his affection.

Jade

Jade always sleeps lightly, so the tiny call of his name immediately wakes him. "Hmmm…" his voice is barely above a whisper as he wakes. He reaches out for you, his movements gentle, his eyes searching in the darkness for your body. "Mm...Guppy?"

"Do teeth grown on walls when they are covered in amnesia?"

The question catches Jade by surprise, his brow furrowed as he contemplates your words. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, his brow now a full-on frown as he tries to formulate an answer.

"No?" he says slowly, voice sounding like a question rather than an assertion. He furrows his brow even further, brows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "...You know...there are situations where i feel like Floyd rubbed off on you..." he says. "Ey-!" Jade lets out a tired chuckle before pulling you back against his chest again. "My little guppy...so dumb sometimes, hm?"

Floyd

His pale eyes snap open as soon as he recognizes your voice. "Shrimpyyy," he whines quietly, his voice quivering in his surprise from being pulled from his slumber. "Why'd wake meee?" he mumbles and pulls you closer and tighter against his body, at this point youre used to it. "Do ghosts twerk when you play them ladders and earth?"

As odd a question as it was (Floyd is too), he doesn't even flinch. Instead, he takes a moment to process it before nodding, his lips curling into a smile as he answers, "Of course! Everyone knows ghosts like to twerk." Floyd just starts to giggle in delight, wiggling you around happily, "Aww shrimpy i love you! You're so silly!" He gave you one last kiss on your head before his smile drops, "But we gotta sleep now, so you better behave and don't wake me up again." Though he is still a little unsteady from being woken up so suddenly, his strength still remains in his embrace. From the way he holds you, you can feel how much he loves you. He wants you close. He wants to keep you with him. Forever even.

Kalim

His brows furrow as his eyes continue to stay shut. But your voice was enough to rouse him.

"Hmm?" his lips part, but his voice is still hoarse with sleep, and he doesn't open his eyes yet. Before he can open them or even get remotely more awake, you attack him immediately. "How do i know if a bunny catches a goldfish in a storm of wandering suns?" His brows furrow even further as his head shifts toward your direction. That question did nothing to make any kind of sense to him.

"H-Huh?" he asks warily, his eyes slowly opening just as his brows are un-furrowing. "I- Um." He looks around, his thoughts scattered.

"Lemme ask Jamil real quick...Ja-!" "No-!" Befode he can wake up the poor exhausted second year who just got into bed, you shut Kalim with your hand against his mouth. "Shhh-" He keeps mumbling against your hand, before he choses to gently kiss the inside of your hand. "Tschul...pwease led me go" "Huh?" You raise your hand, "I said, Jewel, please let me go-!" Kalims arms wrap around you in an instant. He buries his face into your shoulder, seeking the warmth of your arms. All of the tension in his body seems to ease at once, replaced by the comfort that he feels when he is in your presence.

He nuzzles his head into your shoulder, the touch being all that he needs for him to be at peace. "Ahhh, I'm wide awake now..."

Jamil

His head tilts a little as the sound of your voice reaches his ears. His head turns in your direction. His breathing is shallow and steady, his eyes closed.

"Mm? What now?..." "Do dogs cry rainbows when they breath daisies on a sunday bell?" There's a moment of silence as your question registers in Jamils mind. The wheels are turning, and you can tell he's processing it.

Finally, he answers, "No, my love. Dogs cannot cry rainbows when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell....now good night." "Oh-" you were taken aback by how fast and serious he answers. Probably used to it from Kalim. It takes him a moment to realize he should explain his answer. "Dogs are not... capable of...crying rainbows and certainly not when they breathe daisies on a Sunday bell. The latter is...quite nonsensical, actually." A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth, but the expression does not fully reach his lips, "As expected from you "

He waits, allowing a moment to pass to see if you have a response. "Good night Jamil...." "Good night."

Vil

(Bro would honestly kill you but---lets forget about that now-)

His eyes flutter open as he removes his sleeping mask.They blink slowly, fighting off the haze of sleep. And then, they fix on you.

"Yes?" He whispers. Vil is scared you might be in pain, or a different problem flared up. But instead you hit him with this nonsense.

"If a goose loves an ogre, do they drink pebbles in the moonlight?" His mind reels from this seemingly nonsensical question. His body is tense as a whip, his heart pounding in his chest. This feels like a trap, but his mind scrambles to find a response.

He opens his mouth, then stops. He tilts his head, then opens his mouth once more, stopping. He blinks, staring at you.

Then, his lips curl to a smile. "Yes they do," he affirms with complete certainty. "They drink pebbles in the moonlight. And you know what else they do?" "No?" God bless your innocence in this moment, "They never wake up one another when they have their beauty sleep and don't ask them stupid questions." "Oh-..."

Rook

The sound of your voice, however small and soft, stirs Rook from his "slumber". Rook is never truly asleep, a good hunter never rests. He cracks open his eyes, and his lips form a smile and part to form a word.

"Yes?" he excitingly says, though the word, meant hushed and quite, was more loud than expected. "Yesterday I saw a sheep kissing a well and singing it a waterfall because it couldn’t catch a pizza." Without missing a beat he answers, "What a marvelous story mon ange! Did you come up with it yourself?" You nod proudly, not using one braincell to come up with words in the first place is and accomplishment! "Oh, mon ange, would you tell me more about this loving relationship between this talented sheep and its well-lover?"

Rook responds by wrapping his arms tightly around you. He presses his body close to yours, his fingers kneading at you. His touch is gentle but firm. Time seems to slow down as you two press even closer against one another, and you come up with more nonsense to entertain him. The world fades away to oblivion as thoughts of every day concerns slip away and you two embrace the warm bliss of that moment.

Rook doesn't say anything. He only smiles with pure adoration at you and listens to every single word. He just holds you, his every atom focused on being near you. Like always.

Epel

"Epel, Epel, Epel, Epel, Ep-" said guy blinks a few times in an effort to fully awaken as he hears you call his name multiple times. He squints his eyes as he adjusts to the full moon lighting of his bedroom.

He blinks again, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. "Yeah?" he mumbles softly, his voice still sluggish with sleep. "I just saw an owl wearing a hoddie and stealing a womans wig while the sky was skittles." Epel blinks a few times, trying to process the words you just conveyed. He opens his eyes wider and shakes his head.

"Sounds like you had one wild dream," he whispers as gently as possible, "But at least it wasn't a nightmare so...ya should probably go back to sleep now." Epel's voice is a murmur as he slowly leans down to kiss the top of your head. His cheek brushes against your hair as he nuzzles into the softness, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze lingers on your face, studying your features as he pulls back slowly. "I'll watch over you so you won't have any strange dreams..."

Idia

The sound of your voice cracks through his mind, jolting him to attention. Idia jolts up from sleep, startled. The sight of you makes his heart skip a beat.

He blinks his eyes open, staring back at you for a moment as he reorients himself. His breathing is quick and shallow, but he steadies himself. "Is-Is something wrong?!" He sounds genuinely scared and worried for you, you almost feel bad about what you're gonna do. "Horses eat frames so they can fly faster to the basement of the Texas curtains."

"Cool" Idia says softly, and his eyes squint. He tilts his head, clearly not tracking your train of thought. His body is tense, his mind dense, on edge as he attempts to make sense of what you just said. "Babe...explain," Idia says, his voice a near whisper. He narrows his eyes, concentrating on your words.

His lips purse for a moment, and he shakes his head slightly. "Can't make sense...might call Ortho..."

Malleus

His chest freezes with a sharp inhale, and he opens his eyes. His heart pounds in his throat, a nervous flutter. "Yes!? Love? I'm here," he says, his voice hoarse from a few hours of undisturbed slumber.

He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes as he looks up to you, sitting in bed. He wants to speak, but the words can't leave because you beat him to it.

"2 birds were fighting over a brush because it tastes like fries on a Tuesday afternoon." His eyes narrow as he tries to process what you just said. "Tastes...like... fries? on a... Tuesday?"

Confusion clouds his expression, and he cocks his head slightly to the side. Your lack of response only cements his uncertainty. Was that a question? A question you expect him to answer, or was it a joke?

His frown deepens and he clears his throat, "The old man once told me abouta thing called Hoocus Poocus (my stupid idea of google)" he says slowly, raising from bed and groaning like and old man with back problems before he walks over to his phone on his desk. "Maybe this can help...my love?...Do you recall how I alive this device?"

Lilia

The snore halts, the sudden outburst of sound startling him out of his sleep. He wakes up like a mother, with a loud gasp. His eyes shoot open as he bolts upright, and he stares straight at you with an anxious expression on his face. "Has the time finally come?" "W-What time?" "Where i may or may not have left a cake in the oven and it caught fire." He says it with such ease...like he did leave a cake in the oven to burn down the entire dorm.

"No-!....I just wanted to know if you can cactus me a cucumber." He stares at you blankly. Your request takes a few seconds before registering in his mind. A brief flicker of concern crosses his face, but it is fleeting as he realizes you are being facetious. Oh, how much he loves your stupid ass.

He lets out a small laugh. "I'll cactus you a cucumber tomorrow, dearest."

Silver

He is so used on your voice that even in his slumber, your words reach his core. When you call out to him, his breathing grows shallow and his eyelids begin to flutter a bit. His lips twitch again, and he turns his head slightly.

"Ahh...whatisit..." "I slept on a dentist with a horn and he fixed my hair with his light switch." Silver's eyes snap open at your words. You've caught him off-guard yet again. He stares at you for a long moment before he finally speaks.

"You slept...on a dentist..?" He's still half-asleep, his voice quiet and hoarse. "Princess, did you cheat on me?" A quiet, breathy laugh escapes his lips for a split second. Your words are nonsense, and he knows it.

He swallows down another laugh, biting his tongue in an attempt to stifle it as he sees your horrified face. "Shut up..." you mumble, why does no teasing ever work with him?

Sebek

"I'M AWAKE AND READY-!," Sebek is startled awake, sitting up quickly. His eyes open with an instant, and he glances around, his gaze settling on you. "HUMAN? YOU AWOKE ME BECAUSE SAVANACLAW FINALLY ATTACKED DIASOMNIA TO KIDNAPP LORD MALLEUS, RIGHT?!"

"......no but, a egg just gave birth to a basball and now his golf wife is mad."

Sebek blinks for a moment, his brain trying to comprehend your bizarre statement. His face twists, you can't tell if its anger or regret. Regret for ever letting himself catch feelings for you. You never heard him being so silent, cause even in his sleep hes loud...he snores.

"...Human?" "Yes?" "I will escort you back to ramshackle so you can spend the rest of the night in your dorm."

"Nooo-!" "Yes-ah-ey-let go of me-!" He gasps at the sudden embrace, and he stiffens as a flood of emotions rush through his heart. His arms hang loosely at his sides as he is swept into your warm embrace. There is no resisting it. No matter how much he trys, he will always love you no matter what.

He feels like he's going to melt.

[sugarushwriting]

stalker! obsessed! jake sim x f reader

classmate jake being obsessed with you

there is/will be a less um extreme version.

ADULT CONTENT FEATURED read at your own discretion!!!

warning: jake is a nasty nasty boy 😛

you sat peacefully on the plaid blanket beneath you, your head tilting up towards the sun as it warmed your skin. your palm held your place in the book you were reading, as you tried to enjoy more times like this in nature.

well, until you felt a bug crawling on you, “ah!” you yelped and swatted at the bug. arms flinging, book flying, highlighters going every which way.

from a few feet away, a small laugh escaped thick lips from an australian boy who watched on from behind his thick dark sunglasses as he studied from his text book.

he sat at the picnic table of many, in the courtyard of the college campus, opting out of the grass like you and many other students.

you huffed and stood up abruptly, feeling stupid for trying to be one with nature. “stupid bugs.” you understood you were in their territory, but why couldn’t they leave you alone for at least an hour or so, to let you read in peace?

you stuffed your belongings in your bag, dusting off any remaining dirt from your shorts and legs, and walked towards jake.

jake swallowed nervously, quickly ducking his head into his textbook, eyes shielded by the dark frames. he bit his lower lip, hoping you hadn’t caught him. hope you hadn’t been on his trail.

he breathed a sigh of relief as you walked past him as if you had no idea he existed.

“are you just gonna always stare at her like a fucking creep?”

jake shook and jumped with surprise, being startled by his friend’s voice. he looked up seeing jay and sunghoon staring at him with a knowing look.

“i don’t stare at her like a fucking creep.” he mumbled.

“then what do you call that?” sunghoon asked, one hand gripping his backpack strap gesturing between jake and you.

jake shrugged, “she looked cute being startled by the bug.”

jay rolled his eyes. “if you don’t make your move, i will.”

jake scoffed, “please, you’re worse than i am when it comes to girls.”

“youre doubting my abilities to woo a girl, sim.”

“you both suck at wooing girls.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh shut it sunghoon, you’re no better than us!” jake narrowed his brows. “remember eunjin?”

sunghoon’s lips went into a thin line, jay laughed, jake smirked, and mockingly added, “hawaii? i’m fine, thank you!”

“three, two,—,”

jake took off running, leaving his belongings as sunghoon dropped his bag, taking off after jake.

jay yelled after them, “we have class in ten!”

thankfully, they all were on time for class, alongside their other friend, heeseung. heeseung was also pretty nerdy in ways like them, introverted like sunghoon, but more athletic than the other three. heeseung excelled in almost all sports. jake claimed to excel in all sports, but that was up to debate.

you were already sat in your seat for criminal evidence, an elective for your forensic biology major. the classroom was set up to where there was a projector in the front of the class where the professor stood, and rows of tables that sat up to 4 chairs of students at once. there were 4 columns, each had 4 rows. so all together, the classroom could fit up to 64 students, but the class only has 48 students. (mainly due to drop outs last minute).

the classroom had big windows on one side and on the other side, two main doors for entering the class. you sat in what the professor named, “column 1, row 3, seat 1,” near the window.

jake stared at you as his sunglasses sat on top of his head, his brown eyes shinning. you were staring out the window, paying jake no mind, but then you looked over to jake as he walked side by side next to jay and your eye caught his. he smiled shyly, he quickly looked away, his cheeks and tip of his ears going red. you smirked, and your hand went over your lips to hide it.

jake sim was cute. if not all, most girls on campus had a crush on jake sim. he was handsome, smart, athletic, and funny.

you sighed to yourself. out of all the girls on campus, why you? he’d look at you, think, ‘yeah she’s cute,’ but then he can look at another and go, ‘fuck she’s hot.’ every girl knows there’s a difference and it hurts.

jake and his friend, jay, took their seats behind you, jay directly behind you, jake adjacent. his other two friends, heeseung and sunghoon, sat in the same row as you. sunghoon directly beside you, heeseung next to sunghoon.

the professor tried to keep the front seats open for trouble makers, or to keep her extra supplies for class spread out. sometimes if she played a movie or show, she would sit down her self to watch it with you all.

everytime during class you felt eyes staring at you. you always brushed it off though, you had classmates sitting behind you.

however, it wasn’t your paranoia. jake loved to observe you. your cute habits during class he should say. your eyebrows knitting together when you don’t understand something. the way your face falls when you finally start to realize it. the way you play and twirl your pen when concentrating. it’s cute when you do it. it’s annoying when jay does it.

the way sometimes you will fall asleep resting your cheek in your palm if you’ve worked a late shift at the cafe you work at trying to earn extra cash for some fancy things that catch your eyes.

jake could only think, ‘if you were with him, you would never worry. he would buy all the things you want and more.’

jake didn’t like when you would work extra shifts or late shifts at the cafe, even if it was only a 5 minute walk to your apartment. at 11 pm it’s dark outside and no telling what kind of creeps stalk around at night.

watching. waiting. stalking their next prey.

he felt betrayed (jealous) when you allowed your coworker and supervisor at the cafe, ni-ki, walk you home that night because you had stayed a little later than usual to help him clean the cafe. ni-ki didn’t have class the next day, but you did.

jake saw red when you smiled at the boy, showing your dimples, the boy playing it cool, with a smile, waving you goodnight politely, telling you to sleep soundly.

don’t tell her what to do! jake wanted to scream.

it didn’t matter you didn’t see ni-ki in that way. it didn’t matter what you thought of ni-ki. all that mattered to jake was that you let another man walk you home. that you smiled at another man. gave another man your attention. the only thing stopping him from going overtop and revealing him from the shadows was you didn’t invite ni-ki up to your apartment.

when you and ni-ki departed, jake had two (really three) choices; follow ni-ki or you. he followed you from afar. up to your apartment. since your apartment was older, it didn’t have the automatic locks. you were naive enough to not lock the door either. you dropped your bag, and slipped off your shoes at the front door that night, going straight for the bathroom as you had to pee and wanted to shower the grime off.

jake had slipped in quietly behind you. watching your every move, eyes sparkling with excitement. that night he watched you for the first time, your silhouette outlined by the glass of the shower door.

he couldn’t get out there fast enough.

and he rubbed one out to the thought of you for the hundredth time since he first saw you, however this time, he had a better visual of your body.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

class ended an hour and some minutes later, your mind feeling like jelly and liquid at the same time. when the professor dismissed, you stretched with a sigh, your shirt riding up, jake not missing a single inch of your skin. jay had to elbow him before he started drooling.

“so, are we having our marathon tonight or what?” you heard heeseung say to the boys and you looked over to them with interest.

“what kind of marathon? like walking or running?”

sunghoon laughed and shook his head. “no. since we’re all forensic biologist majors, we like to watch shows or movies centered around it.”

“like bones, criminals minds, csi miami, dexter,”

“do you all actually watch it or crucify it?” you scrunched your nose.

“what’s the difference?” heeseung asked, his bambi eyes looking confused.

you smiled softly. jake frowned seeing how you smiled at his friend. why were you smiling at heeseung like that?

you answered heeseung, “the difference is, if you’re crucifying, you’re not watching to just watch for fun. you’re watching it as if you’re doing homework.”

“why don’t you join us then? make sure we don’t do homework.” jay smiled and you nodded.

“sounds like a plan then. what time should i arrive and what should i wear?”

jake’s pants started to feel tight at the thought of you wearing nothing. showing up in a skimpy pajama outfit. his hands went into his pockets as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“come by 5, and anything that makes you feel comfy. we’ll handle the snacks.” jay smiled with a slight smirk. if jake wasn’t gonna make his move, jay was either going to make jake do it or jay was gonna pounce on you.

and knowing jake and his obsession with you, jake wasn’t letting you go.

jay quickly added you to a new group chat with them 4 titled, “future csi,” and promised to send you the address later.

you smiled to all 4 boys and bounced away with your things, with a smile. should you actually wear something cute and sexy or something comfortable for tonight? suddenly your mind started to over think this. crap!

you whipped out your phone, texting your friend.

to manon-moo: quick im having a movie night with boys should i go cute and sexy pajamas or comfy

from manon-moo: is that even a real question?

to manon-moo: ur right, cute and sexy it is!

from manon-moo: don’t think you’re off the hook yet. we need to unpack the fact you said movie night with boys—as in PLURAL. txt me later for safety babes 😘

your cute and sexy pajamas were creamed color pajamas shorts that had pink hearts on them, and a matching tank top with thin straps. you added an oversized dark hoodie in the meantime and black plain flip flops, to keep it casual and comfy. you quickly grabbed a small tote bag, and added your favorite lip gloss.

at least your pajamas wasn’t your favorite old school shirt and boxer shorts you stole from your male older cousin years ago during a family trip (they were clean).

when the address and pin location was sent in the group chat, you realized it was only a 15 minute walk from your apartment, so you grabbed your headphones and started your journey, enjoying the warmth of the evening sun.

little did you know, jake was right behind you, making sure you got to their house perfectly unscathed. he needed to make sure his girl, his obsession, was okay. he would’ve offered a ride, but knew you would’ve declined and would have said there was no point as it was only a short walk.

but maybe later tonight he can offer that ride. his mind turned and he smirked, laughing to himself. maybe he can offer a ride in more ways than one.

his phone dinged:

from jay p: r u following her??

to jay p: mind your business

to jay p: and yes. need to make sure she gets to us safely. i will walk in a few minutes after her with a good excuse.

soon you arrived to the light blue 2 story house with white shutters, walking up the few steps to knock on the door. their college house was cute. it was in a historic part of downtown like much of the campus so it made sense.

jay opened the door with a smile. “glad you could make it.”

you smiled with a nod. “me too.”

“jake will be here soon, uh he had to, run an errand.”

“okay,” you said and walked into the living room seeing heeseung and sunghoon already setting up the small living room to be cozy for movie night.

plenty of blankets, pillows, 3 pizza boxes, 4 boxes of different flavors of boneless wings, cheesy bread, and different types of drinks.

it didn’t take long for jake to walk through the threshold. he nearly tumbled over himself, too excited to see you, wondering if you already had revealed your pajamas to the boys. he couldn’t help but stare at your ass from behind as you walked.

he wondered if the cotton of your shorts was as soft as they seemed. “sorry, im late, i uh—,”

heeseung and sunghoon stared at the boy wondering what kind of excuse he was going to come up with. jay stood beside you, arms crossed.

you looked at jake worried, as he looked so out of breath, his hair messed up, “jake are you okay? you looked like you ran from something frightening!”

“oh yeah, um,” he swallowed, taking in a deep breath, “whew, got chased by a dog.” he chuckled showing off his smile.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

5 hours.

five.

FIVE freaking hours of the television marathon of different shows and episodes and not once did you think about moving.

you sat comfortably on the couch next to jake, jay on a recliner to your left, sunghoon on the one to jake’s right, heeseung sprawled out on the floor in front of the tv inbetween that and the coffee table.

food gone. drinks nearly empty. stomachs hurting from laughing and the food. minds spinning from talking about different scenarios and guessing. it was fun, and these boys were cool.

jay was unintentionally funny and you couldn’t stop laughing at him.

jake didn’t like it one bit.

jay wasn’t that funny.

you yawned with a stretch. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“why don’t you sleep over?” jake asked before thinking.

your eyes went wide and jay and heeseungs eyes went wide as well, sunghoon’s body went still.

“are you sure?” you asked not wanting to overstay your welcome. “i don’t want to intrude.”

jake quickly shook his head, “you won’t! you can sleep in my bed, and—,”

“jake will sleep on the couch like a gentleman.” heeseung finished for him.

heeseung stood up from his spot narrowing his eyes at jake. jake was going to offer to sleep on the floor next you like a gentleman, but that wouldn’t be far enough.

after a few seconds of thinking, you nodded, and jake smiled, internally squealing. he would have to make sure he kept those sheets once you were done to keep your smell on them.

thankfully, he changed them when he came home earlier so there were no old come stains in sight on his bed sheets.

jay slept on the first floor, so he said goodnight and went to his room, as sunghoon and heeseung followed you and jake up to jake’s room.

jake turned around, “we don’t need a babysitter.” he frowned.

“we just want to tuck you in.” sunghoon teased, crossing his arms.

“boys that’s sweet, but im fine.” you laughed.

hesseung laughed, sunghoon’s ears going red. “oh, i meant jake.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh, right.”

“but i can tuck you in, if you want.” jake smirked.

you looked at jake with a smile that could make jake melt, “i’m fine, go to bed,” to playfully pushed his shoulder.

it may have only been a littler after 10 pm, but you all were tired from endless television watching and classes earlier in the day.

“extra toothbrush is under the sink!” jake shouted before being pushed out of the room by heeseung.

before sunghoon shut his door behind him, he caught a glimpse of you taking off your hoodie. the one you kept on all night, keeping him from looking at your delicate and delicious skin.

“cock blockers.” jake huffed, shrugging heeseung off.

“have a normal conversation with her for more than 5 minutes, then maybe we’ll let you try to get in her pants.” heeseung scoffed.

heeseung and sunghoon bid goodnight to jake and went to their separate rooms, shutting their doors behind them.

jake lazily walked down the steps back to the couch in the living room, taking place were you sat all night, your scent still lingering.

jake’s face fell to the side, his nose inhaling your scent deeply, like he’ll never smell you again. before he knew it, he was taking his cock out of his pajama pants, it already stiff and leaking precome.

just the scent of you alone got him hard. he slowly began to use his palm to tease himself, running his thumb over his tip, trying to pretend it was your fingers, your hand, your skin on him.

how you would look so innocent with his thickness in between you. how you would mumble, and moan, and groan, and gasp. you may even giggle, or cry, or whimper. oh he would love to hear you whimper for him.

his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, adding pressure, as he added speed to his strokes, wishing it was your hands around him. wishing it was your pussy around him.

he was getting close to coming. ‘fuck,’ he whispered out your name with a long and low groan turning into a moan. it didn’t take long for ropes of white come to paint his hand and stomach, his free arm over his eyes as he had just came on the couch, shamelessly with you just right upstairs.

he fell asleep soon afterward, still holding his cock, semi-hard.

he next woke up around 4 am, cock hard once again, being startled from a very wet dream about you. fucking you on all fours in the back of his car, windows fogged, in the middle of the mall parking lot as he took you on a shopping spree. that was your thank you to him.

he had to pee, and peeing with a hard on was not the most sought out option. the half bath toilet downstairs was broken, so he had to use the upstairs hallway one. after a painful pee, and being quiet as possible, he finished his pee, and was still hard thanks to you.

maybe he would just peek and check in on you? make sure you know, no monsters have gotten you.

he opened his door slowly and quietly, seeing you laying still, breathing even. you laid on your back, one hand under your head, the other laid across your face, your nose and lips out.

the covers rested comfortably below your chest, jake smiled seeing the dark hoodie laying on one of his chairs beside his desk. you kept it off.

with a deep breath, he looked behind him, then quickly slid in his room, closing the door softly, tiptoeing closer to you.

his breath stuttered in his chest seeing your skin, your beauty, up close. you so still. he always wondered how you looked while sleeping.

he never had the balls or guts to break into your apartment while you slept. he tried it once, got the lock opened, but a neighbor opened her door then he chickened out and never tried again.

you looked so peaceful, innocent. your lips were parted slightly as you slept. he could just imagine your lips wrapped around his cock which was aching for you now.

he reached his fingers up slowly, and pulled the covers back gently, exposing your top, goosebumps rising to your skin, but you didn’t move. jake pulled the covers all the way down to your knees.

your shorts had risen up a bit, now closer to your cunt than before.

jake’s breathing halted for a moment. he could literally come in his pants.

his fingertip of his right hand traced your skin on your thigh up to your stomach, forcing the tank top up to expose your belly. so soft.

his fingertips traced over your curves, over your chest, your body filled with goosebumps, but you didn’t move an inch.

you were in a deep sleep. such a good girl for him.

he kneeled down by the side of his bed slowly, so his nose came close to your thigh. it’s like he could smell you, see a wet spot forming where your cunt met your underwear and shorts. just a taste—,

he was calmly and quickly ripped from you by the back of the neck, you still unfazed and asleep. he didn’t see who interrupted him until he was dragged out of his room by his neck and out in the hallway.

he whipped around to heeseung staring daggers. “what the fuck are you doing man! trying to catch a fucking charge?”

jake scoffed, scratching the back of his neck, “i wasn’t doing anything! i was just looking, i wasn’t going to touch or—,”

“looking is bad enough! while she’s sleeping! what the fuck is wrong with you!” heesung snapped.

on the other side of the door you felt cold, you took the hand off your face, reaching up to grab the blanket jake had slowly slid down your body.

panties wet, and you irked of frustration, maybe next time heeseung wouldn’t be around to interrupt.

© work of sugarushwriting | do not repost as your own or translate

uh so yeah wrote this while at work — so definitely not proof read | part two perhaps? 🤔

leave comments, thoughts, replies, reblogs, suggestions, send me messages!!! all of it!! 😚🩷

my inbox is lonely send me ideas 💌

thanks to anon who sent in the request AND sent ideas. hope i cooked something good for you and made you proud (you also said trust me a lot to make something good so a wee bit nervous!!) 💙

[lov3lycosmos]

Hello darling, I wanna know if you could make a story about changbin and the reader with the kink that you wrote (thigh riding), please lovu♡

Hi sweetheart of course I can write that sorry for such a longgg wait (only 3 days but we can't keep you waiting 🖤)

genre: smut MDNI

pairing: changbin x fem!reader

wc: 664

warnings: thigh riding, dirty talk, teasing, multiple mentions of female arousal fluid, mention of round two/sex

my library~

You don’t even remember how it started. Maybe it was the way he stretched on the bed earlier, muscles flexing, thighs parting naturally like an invitation. Or maybe it was the smirk he gave you when he noticed you staring.

But now? Now you’re perched on his thigh, panties clinging to you—soaked, soft cotton dragging across his bare skin with each little grind you make.

And Changbin?

He’s just watching. Leaning back against the pillows, arms behind his head, smirking like he’s already won.

“You’re cute when you try to hold back your moans,” he teases, voice low and warm. “But I can feel how needy you are, baby. That pretty little whimper you let out just now? Didn’t miss it.”

You duck your head, hiding in your shoulder. “Shut up…”

He laughs—softly, almost tender. “I’m teasing. But seriously—fuck, baby—you’re making a mess. You feel that?” His thigh flexes beneath you, hard and intentional.

Your hips jerk.

“I—ah, Changbin—!”

“Ohhh, there she is,” he coos, sitting up just enough to nuzzle into your neck. “That’s the sound I was waiting for.”

His lips brush your jaw, teasing and featherlight, while his hands settle on your hips. He doesn’t guide you, not yet. He just lets you use him, lets you take your time—lets you feel him under you.

“Mm… so wet already,” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet. All it took was my thigh, huh?”

You don’t answer—can’t. Every pass of your soaked panties over his skin makes your head spin more. It’s embarrassing how good it feels, how desperately your body reacts to the heat, the friction, the quiet approval in his voice.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pulling back to watch your face. “All breathy and squirmy, just because I let you ride my thigh. You like it when I sit still and let you use me, huh?”

His fingers dig in a little more now, holding you steady as your movements grow shakier. “That’s it, just like that. You’re doing so good, baby.”

You moan again—shaky, soft—and Changbin groans.

“Shit, look at that wet patch…” He glances down, watching the way your slick drags across his thigh in glossy trails. “You’re fuckin’ dripping. Soaking me. God, baby…”

You whimper, trying to grind down faster, but your thighs are trembling too much now, and your hands go to his shoulders for balance.

“I c-can’t—‘s too much—”

“Yes, you can,” he says, gentle but firm. “Just a little more, baby. You’re right there. I can feel it.”

You lean into him, face buried in his neck, grinding down harder as he flexes again beneath you. The wet sound of your panties against his skin fills the room.

“Ohh fuck, Changbin—!”

“There we go,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “That’s my girl. Let go for me. Mark me up, baby. Show me how good I make you feel.”

And with a broken cry, you do—shuddering as you grind through your orgasm, body twitching, breath catching in your throat as you leave a soaking, glossy patch all over his thigh.

Changbin groans like he’s the one cumming, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head as you collapse into his chest.

“Shit,” he breathes, kissing your temple. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You stay there for a moment, catching your breath, but his hand moves—slides down your back, warm and slow.

“Baby?” he says after a beat, voice back to being teasing. “You, uh… might need to ride it again.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “W-What? Why?”

He grins. “Because now I really want to cum, and seeing that mess you left on me? I think you might need to clean it up. With those pretty hips.”

You groan and bury your face in his neck again, and he laughs, holding you tighter.

“You started it,” he whispers. “Now you gotta finish it.”

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[nilefreemans]

I Saw My Uncle Kissing Santa Claus

"You really gotta tell him man," Tommy hears Howie's voice coming into the kitchen from the hall. He's about to come in, but the answering voice makes Tommy stop.

"I know," Evan says, sounding odd. "I can't keep this a secret for much longer, it will just make things awkward for Tommy. He needs to be prepared for whats to come."

Tommy's brows furrow at that, and his palms feel sweaty all the sudden-

Things were going good between them, slow sure, but better then it was before. Stronger. This is their first Christmas together since their last one was spent apart and Tommy-

Is overthinking.

Tommy steps into the kitchen then and is met with two identical looks of surprise.

He's been caught.

"No time like the present, hey Buck," Howie grins as he claps Buck on the back before walking past Tommy. Howie then winks at Tommy, and any thoughts he had to worry melt away.

"You know you should really be the one to tell him-" Evan starts but Howie interupts him.

"You owe me big time, good luck, thank you!" Howie sing songs before he's stepping out of the kitchen, leaving a pouting Evan behind.

Tommy decides he just has to kiss that pout and Evan smiles against his lips before grabbing at Tommy's waist and bringing him in for a deeper kiss.

"You're-" A kiss. "Stalling."

"Okay," Evan admits. "I have something to tell you, and ah - I guess, I guess ask of you to." He starts, rambling. "And it-it's kinda cute?"

"Cute?" Tommy asks, raises a brow. "What-"

"Jee thinks you're Santa." Evan blurts out and Tommy's eyes widen.

Out of all the things he expected, that wasn't one of them.

"She. Thinks. I'm. Santa."

"Yup." Evan pops the 'p' at the end.

"Um, why?" Tommy asks, and he's leaning against the counter now, confused at the turn of events.

"She has a list," Evan says and he pulls it out of his pocket to present it to Tommy. The piece of paper has Jee-Yun all over it, from the stickers of every genre to the glittery writing. It makes Tommy smile when he looks at it.

"Why Tommy is Santa-" Evan starts and he clears his throat, being a little dramatic.

"One. He flies." Evan starts and Tommy nods his head.

"I do fly-"

"And so does Santa," Evan pokes at Tommy's chest. "Can I continue?" Tommy makes a motion to do so, and Evan lifts the list off again to read it off.

"Two. Tommy took us to see reindeer, and Santa has reindeer." That was true, Tommy knew a guy who worked for the zoo and was on a team that was rehibiliating some reindeer. Tommy had taken Jee and Evan there a few weeks ago.

"Three. He has a long red coat." That one was a stretch, but Tommy wouldn't argue against it. He had a long wool coat for when he camps out in the mountains, and it was indeed red, though it was a more muted shade then he thought Santa would wear. Jee had seen it last week when she had been over for the night with her brother to give Maddie and Howie a night off.

"Four - and this is where it gets cute," Evan says, completely fond of both his niece and his boyfriend. "He has a big smile and he laughs and makes people happy."

"That's sweet," Tommy says, blushing. He ducks his head and Evan steps closer into his bubble, wrapping his arms around Tommy.

"There's more, like how you always remember what kind of gifts people want and ah-" Evan pauses briefly something that happens sometimes whenever their breakup came into the conversation. "You were gone last Christmas, and I think she thought you were busy."

"Being Santa." Tommy huffs, shakes his head. "Better than what actually happened."

They've talked about it, how Tommy threw himself into work to cope with everything. It wasn't healthy, but he's working on it.

Evan nods his head and the hand on Tommy's waist squeezes.

"She still believes," Evan says. "And with the baby this year, I think she feels a little left out. So when they got into Christmas folklore at school, I think she latched onto the idea that you were Santa. It's why she's been so shy today."

"Okay," Tommy nods his head. He gets it. Believing in something when things were a little difficult could get you through hard times. His old man had told him the truth about Santa when he had been young, and Tommy didn't have that little bit of Christmas magic growing up.

"Do you want me to tell her I'm not?" Tommy asks, undure what they should do here. Evan shakes his head then and Tommy relaxes.

"Chimney and Maddie want to talk to her about it, they just didn't want you to think she was ignoring you-" Evan grins. "I think she's trying to be on the good list. I've never seen her room so clean."

Tommy huffs out a laugh at that. He had thought it was a little strange that Jee hadn't come running to them for a hug when they came, but he figured that she was just being quiet for her brother's sake.

"And what list are you on?" Tommy asks Evan, voice low as his eyes dart over Evan. The other man snorts out a laugh then before he pulls Tommy in for a kiss.

"I think I've been on the good list, Santa-" Evan whispers in Tommy's ear.

Tommy tries.

He really does, but he lasts about two seconds before he bursts into laughter. Evan joins him then, and it feels good, laughing with his boyfriend.

"Uncle Buck?" Tommy hears, and he sees the very person they were talking about coming into the kitchen. "Can we play cowboys and princesses and aliens?" She asks and Evan straightens away from Tommy and he gestures as if he's wearing a cowboy hat, tipping it to Jee and the girl giggles in return.

"I reckon the Princess Cowboys have a lot to do before Christmas Evan tomorrow." Evan says in an exxagerated southern accent.

Tommy is completely charmed by him.

"Are you too busy to play Uncle Tommy?" Jee asks and Tommy feels like his heart skips a beat.

That was the first time Jee has ever called him 'Uncle.'

"Yeah, that sounds fun. Can I be a Princess?" Tommy asks and follows Jee and Evan back into the living area.

He prefers Unlce to Santa, anyday.

[sunlxst]

don’t save him he don’t wanna be saved

college simp caleb x college slut reader

smut-slight angst?

We’ve all heard the old saying: men love hoes. And Caleb is no exception.

Everyone thinks he’s a sweet boy. He’s super friendly, so thoughtful and generous. He’s the kind of guy parents want their kids to be friends with, such a well-mannered young man with a spotless GPA. He gets along with practically everyone-he’s the best guy to go party with, never got too drunk to be useless and never too sober to be a buzzkill. Girls always gravitate towards him and if they weren’t drunk caleb would spend the night playing wingman.

Thus to everyone, sweet and kind boys like Caleb deserved a good girl, a kind of girl he could take back home to his granny. The kind of girl a guy like caleb could marry. And to everyone, you’re definitely not that girl.

You were a different kind of trouble. Unbelievably attractive, and so incredibly easy.

The guys he hangs out with occasionally are so quick to pull up your track history as if Caleb wasn’t already ignoring the group chat they put him in.

-yk the basketball team ran a train on her in their hotel room right after nationals?

-I think my plug is smashing her too dude i see them riding around and shit

-weed been extra good tho i won’t lie

-lmaoo cal bro u kiss her ur kissing a 1000 dicks

-ong dude hit and quit that immediately

-frr get your piece and let her goooo she’s not the one for u trust me

But caleb doesn’t want to let you go :(

Much to the disappointment of everyone around him, he likes you..a lot, and he feels almost too old to be having a crush, but it sums up what he’s been feeling. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get close to you when he sees you're in the same physics lab. Every Thursday from 5-8pm, he's pushing his chair closer to yours, enough to drown in the sweetness of your perfume. Burning up from your smile when you laugh at his dumb jokes. Trying not to stare too long at your ass when go up and ask the TA a question. Finally locking in and getting the work done when he starts bricking up in his sweats imagining what the lip you bite on tastes like as you crunch numbers on his calculator.

Truth is, he quite enjoys the fact that you're highly experienced. Virgins just don’t do it for him, a self realization he comes to learn when he finally does get a taste of you. Why find somebody so amateur when he has you? A pretty girl with a cute smile that knows exactly what to do with his dick.

How could he let you go when you suck his cock sooo good? You love that it’s fat, love the struggle of getting it down your throat, immediately choking, eyes getting glossy with tears. It really inflates his ego when your throat lets out violent gurgles, filling up his room. "a-ah-damn baby keep goin'” You’re slurping up your drool oozing down his cock all over the short hairs at the base, and caleb loves the sound of it, sopping with your spit and his pre decorating your tongue. Slick pink muscle lapping at his cockhead as you look at him all cute, teasing the blunt end, coaxing for his nut that’s he’s shaking on his elbows. Right when he’s close, you suck his balls fisting him quickly, suckling on them as they tighten up against your lips and ducking your tongue down on the little patch of skin above his ass. “yeahyeah-get me there gorgeous o-oh-fuckk babe ‘m cummin’ -” You’re quick to envelop your mouth around him and he sees white, shooting quick and thick ropes, twitching on your tongue sending load after load and he watches your throat bob, swallowing him. Caleb shamelessly kissing you hard after, nice and sloppy with his tongue tasting the semibitterness of his seed on your lips. Who cares? it’s his dick in your mouth now.

So what if others got a taste before he did? It’s not like your body remembers them anyway. Pretty pussy all warm and tight. Struggling to take him as if you’ve never been fucked before. “fuuckk caleb-‘s too much” you whine on his dick as you bounce on it, the fat ass plastered all over your instagram jiggling on his lap as you come down. He can’t get enough of it, his large hands meeting your skin in slow and loud smacks. So damn soft and supple, he’s grabbing handfuls to spread and watch your stretched out hole devour him. “alll for you baby-‘n you’re takin’ it -nice and-ngh deep h-ah you like that?” Pussy fluttering each time you sink down, gushing cream that forms a wet ring at the base of his cock. You begged to take him raw and that’s why you're the best, so eager to feel him. Letting his bare tip rub the gooey spot deep in your guts. Letting him kiss your cervix and feel your sticky walls spasm. You’re so fucking wet-wetter than your throat and he feels like he’s drowning, losing his cock in your little water park that can’t help the noise.

His name drags out of your mouth like a wail and it only makes him raise his hips up to meet you, “o-oh-fuck me caleb-harder- yesss ‘s so deep-” He gets you louder, let his stupid friends hear that he’s got you now and you're not going anywhere. Those guys were never his friends though, that much is clear.

Whatever. Caleb reckons your previous hook-ups never made you finish. Decides to take you in missionary just so he can see what they haven’t, toying with your clit under his fingers and watching you play with your tits as he drills your hole, “wanna feel you cum beautiful-fuckk yeah baby- cum on your dick- mhmm-‘s yours” It takes everything in him not to bust first, the way you writhe under him , spreading your legs wider to take more drives him crazy. You sound so fucking sexy when your build up peaks that it’ll play in his head for weeks. God your greedy little pussy latches onto him like a vice, like it’s desperate for his load. Your pretty mouth gets to begging for it too, begging for him to make this pussy his. Fuck he wants to-so so bad. He has no choice but to cum deep inside you, letting you feel his cock twitch, his heartbeat rubbing up on your walls as he empties into you. Yeah he’ll gladly make this pussy his, for life, and nobody can change his mind.

The only thing he wish he could change was what happens after you fuck. You let him wipe you down and get you water. You let him spoon you in bed and watch Tiktoks on your phone. But everytime caleb wants to make plans for a date- to take a step towards something permanent with you, you're sliding out of bed putting your clothes on, telling him you have plans with friends or you're going home for the weekend. It’s like you're here with him, but just a touch away and he can’t get close.

It keeps him up late sometimes, staring absentmindedly through his window lost in his thoughts about you and him. But then it clicks one night when he realizes he’s watching you in a tiny jean skirt hop on the back of some guy’s obnoxiously loud motorcycle, zooming out of the parking lot. It makes him blink several times just to make sure he’s not imagining it. Huh? There’s someone else..?

But who?

[sinstear]

abby dressing your daughter up exactly like her, just to see your reaction 🥹🤲🏻

ohkay fluff! yes, we love. this is perfect 🫶🏻 kinda all over the place.

abby’s memorized your work schedule completely since she started dating you, and she knows that in exactly 25 minutes she’s going to hear the keys in the door, you kicking off your shoes once you step inside and hang up your jacket and bag on the coat rack, and will be in search for her and your daughter.

tying the hair band around her hair once she finished the braid, abby smiled and kissed her forehead gently. “and what do we tell mama when she gets home?”

“uhm, to not mention the candy drawer beside your bed!” your daughter giggled and rubbed her eyes.

abby’s eyes widen and she’s quickly shaking her head with a nervous laugh. “not that, baby, anything but that, she won’t let me live it down.”

“eating too much candy is bad for you, mommy.” she huffed and abby could already hear your voice in the back of her head when you once told her that your daughter huffs, pouts and frowns just like abby does.

“i birthed her, and she copies everything you do.”

“it is, but—”

“you have to be in good health to take me to the park and to see the ducks, you can’t eat any more candy.”

“oh, is that right?” abby laughed softly.

“yep, i say so.”

before abby could reply, both sets of ears perk up at the sound of the key sliding into the lock, and the jiggle of your key chains had abby smiling. “remember what we said?”

“tell mama we love her!” she cheered quietly and brushed away wispy bits of hair in her face with a grumble. “and keep the candy a secret?”

“exactly, we’re learning, baby.” abby laughed and kissed her head a final time.

you’ve barely stepped foot in the apartment when you feel a force against both your legs, and you smile tiredly when you look down to find your daughter snuggling her face against your pant-covered leg. “well, hello there, baby girl— what are you wearing?” you blinked, looking at her outfit, finally realizing. 

“i look like mommy!”

you notice the light shade of green cargo pants, similar to abby’s but not the exact same, and you bite back a laugh when your eyes peer up to the black long sleeve shirt; abby usually wears white or a light green, and to finally top it all off, you notice the braid. “it’s very neat, i remember doing yours for you.” you commented softly towards your wife.

“years of practice, babe.” abby winked at you before smiling. “what do you think? little mini me, huh?”

“you look very adorable, baby,” your smile widens when she giggles and wraps her arms around your leg again. “now, let me take a shower, change out of these clothes and then we can take some pictures for grandad.”

“grandpa!”

“you and dad spoil her way too much,” abby commented as she watched your daughter run back into the living room. “remember the day she was born and he bought her an entire dollhouse?”

“ah, yes, jerry did have good taste in dollhouses, wasn’t it pink and purple?”

“something like that,” abby nudged your shoulder with hers and kissed your cheek. “which reminds me, dad’s coming over next week, was on about helping me fix the broken sink in the bathroom.”

“may i remind you that you broke it.”

“it was an accident!”

“you rested on the sink, trying to do a push up, or whatever the excuse you used was, and broke it, abby.” you deadpanned and shook your head.

“just too strong, huh?”

“something like that—”

“mommy! peppa pig is on!” your daughter called from the living room, giggles falling from her seconds later.

abby’s eyes light up and quickly clears her throat when she spots you looking at her with a smirk. “what’s the face for? just us watching peppa pig together.”

“strong until it comes to our daughter.”

“It’s hard to say no to her, baby.”

“well you better practice because you’re gonna be the one to tell her that me and you are going on a small vacation next week and that she has to stay with jerry for the weekend.”

“me? babe, you’re kidding right? babe, babe, come back!”

[gotaksboyfie]

Hi I!! I just wanted to say how much I absolutely adore your writing— I may or may not have binged all your stories in one night because I got completely lost in your writing hehe. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to make a little request! ❤️

could you please do a sieun x reader where we the reader leaves cute little notes in his textbooks after studying together? :3 I feel like it’d be cute, maybe something like little words of encouragement or small explanations to make some difficult concepts easier !! 🫶🫶

study buddy

gif creds: @seolinguk

pairing yeon sieun x gender neutral reader

summary you and sieun study together, and have a silent way of communicating with each other

word count ~600

warnings/tags fluff

being rank 2 in the school wasn't all that hard, not with a study partner like yeon sieun.

sieun didn't talk much, was emotionless most of the time, and literally only ate and drank when absolutely necessary. he was a living studying machine.

his methods were more to make studying more efficent—sieun's words, not yours—but you think he's just burning himself into the ground. it can't be healthy, min-maxxing studying like this.. he's already naturally smart, so what the hell is he doing all this for?

he’s focused. intense, even. he rarely speaks unless it’s to ask a question (extreme rare) or point something out. but you can feel his eyes drifting over sometimes, watching the way you take notes with colorful pens, how you underline things with little stars and write silly ramblings in the margins.

still, it was nice to study with him. his neat notes organized everything into sections that made it easier to grasp concepts. not to mention he would never let you slack off—always pushing you to stay on top of it with no break.

you stared blankly at your calculus homework while sieun was already working on his chemistry II work. differential equations made no sense, how did sieun already finish the homework?

"sieun-ah, can i see the homework? and the notes for differential equations?" you sighed, putting your pencil down. the numbers weren't adding up, so might as well refresh on the concept.

you flip through his notebook, and even his handwriting is completely straight. it's looks like he printed it out, but small ink smudges prove otherwise.

tearing off a small pink sticky note, you decide to leave him some encouragement. hopefully he'd enjoy it, and not just toss it out the next day.

fighting!ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ you got this sieunnie ☆

he doesn’t mention it the next day. doesn’t spare a second glance at you. but the note is still there, standing out against the monochrome background.

so you keep going. it turns into a small habit. you start leaving similar messages of encouragement, explanations, and even dumb jokes.

he doesn't react or say anything, but you swear you can see the smallest quirk of his lips as he reads over your latest one.

what's a math's teachers favorite dessert? π (￢‿￢ )

one day, you ask for his notes again to double check something. as you open it, you see all your notes neatly taped side by side on one page.

remember.. even geniuses have to take breaks sometimes! ╮(︶︿︶)╭ go drink some water!

you forgot to plug this rule in, you doofus :P

yeon sieun you want to buy me tteokbokki sooo bad right now ꩜꩜

[bad sketch of him studying] <3

(・_・)! i did not know you could solve it like that..

you laugh to yourself. it was silly, just a few lines scribbled in messy ink and hidden between practice problems. but he saved them. all of them. and maybe he didn’t know how to say things aloud, but the way he kept your words close made your heart flutter.

sieun's ears were dusted pink as you handed it back to him, and his face looked slightly embarrassed.

you opened your own notebook to see a ripped piece of paper with writing on it. there's no way, right?

Thank you.

you glance up and his head ducks down quicky, eyes fixed on anything but you. (so much for being subtle sieun..)

you read over the note again. it was just two words, but they felt like thousands—especially since they were coming from sieun.

maybe studying wasn't so bad with him around.

fin

a/n so short im sorry😭