#mostly just typing it up from my notes :3

[mwphisto]

LaDs: their night routine

~ bouncing off the sleep post, here’s my personal head canons on what their nightly routines look like before bed

Xavier

Starts his night routine the moment he gets home from work. Otherwise, he’d prob fall asleep instantly and feel nasty when he gets up.

He is stripping the second his foot hits the bathroom tile. Uniform in the hamper, water on scorching, the bathroom is filled with steam before he’s fully undressed and ready to go

Not guilty of using 3-1s but he does use the cheapest shampoo and conditioner imaginable. The kind you’d find at the grocery store that you know if you used it would totally dry out your hair. For him? It makes it incredibly soft and smells so damn nice (like vanilla)

He's the type to literally wash his face with dish soap and still have the softest, most flawless skin you've ever seen. He's settled for a soft face cloth and warm water post shower and then a moisturizer you bought him.

He'll towel dry and then blow dry his hair, brush it out, and then start brushing his teeth. His eyes are nearly closed at that point.

Zayne

His night routine depends on where he is and what he is doing. For example, if he's working overnight or even a twenty four hour shift? The most he's doing is showering before passing out.

If he's just finished a day shift, he's going to take a little more time with his night routine but the exhaustion still wears him down.

He's very much guilty of using a 2-1 just for the convenience of it. Mostly used when he is at the hospital just to save a little time. Somehow still looks good after using it (ugh, men.) At home, he's very much taken note of all the things you recommended for him - often asks for your help too hehe.

Uses nice shampoo and conditioner at home, not super high end but not something you can find at the convenient store. Smells like pears and jasmine and it's so soft, you could sniff his hair for hours.

He'll use a gentle face wash - your recommendation - brush his teeth (floss and mouthwash since you keep calling him out about his frequent dentist trips), and blow dry his hair before heading to bed for the night.

Rafayel

He takes his night routine very seriously. Typically starting it with a nice hot shower to get all the day's work off of him. Then, he follows it with long soak in the tub (legit like 2-4 hours). He'll sketch and sing and call you while he relaxes.

His shower routine consists of luxurious floral shampoo and a nice deep conditioning hair mask. His hair is naturally a bit wavy so he tries to make sure it's soft and nourished. His hair smells like cherry blossom and strawberry.

He'll let it air dry and then cringe when it poofs up, then he'll go in with leave in conditioner and some scalp serums before blow drying it.

His skin is literally flawless, so he uses a very gentle cleanser, a nice milky toner, a rich moisturizer, and lastly lip balm. But he brushes his teeth before the lip balm portion (which is flossing, brushing, and then mouth wash)

Sylus

He takes his time with his night routine if you're with him in the N109 Zone. Spa night of sorts. if your not with him? His routine is short yet efficient.

Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash are all per your recommendations. But he's very guilty of using the shampoo, conditioner, and fruity body wash you leave behind. Which he does with a smirk despite your complaining.

He's a shower, brush his teeth, shave if need be, and pass out in bed type of guy. But all of his products are top of the line, so like, he can put that little effort in and still look perfect (again, men.)

If you're still awake he'll video chat with you while he does his skincare (literally only does it if you're there or if he calls you) and catch up with you on your day.

He's a brush teeth and mouth wash person, he'll floss when he remembers... speaking of... do you think because he can heal himself he can just heal his cavities before they even happen?

Caleb

Night routine? He has none. I should just end this right here because oh lord help him. His night routine is enough to make anyone shiver. He wasn't that bad when he still lived with you, but on his own? Lord.

He's a bar soap type of guy, y'know the ones that leave a stiff feeling film on your skin? And he is so guilty of 3-1s please.

Once you're back in his life? You get him a whole regimen and call him each night to ensure he is properly doing it (if you don't live together already)

He uses apple scented products, all curtsy of you, shampoo, conditioner, and body wash all have some apple note in their scent profile. You also bought him an acne safe face wash (he had some acne in his teen years) a nice moisturizer, and a good razor for shaving. Oh and a few lip balms and chapsticks.

You set up an auto-renew subscription for these products so they show up at his doorstep before he can run out of them. He spent all those years taking care of you, now it's your tune to take care of him.

[6feathered6siren6]

I have a fic request. What if reader ghosted the entire server and after years, they find them again but reader doesn’t remember them at all?

Haunting Parasite(Ronin x Reader)

Authors note: This was in my mind while I was working, and I wanted to make this so much worse, but I promise to make this hurt comfort(there might be a part 2 to fulfil that) so its lighter. This is also mostly Ronin's pov, hopefully I did it right :3, had fun with the idea I wrote, anyway, stay hydrated and enjoy!! o7

Trigger warning:

Death/corpse

---

The novel was a hit. Sure, it was under an author's pen name instead of your real name, what if they knew? But it was done. You don’t… really have to talk to them any more. The days you have to keep your eyes over your shoulder, watching for any strange movement. You can worry less, the novel was giving you money, enough to leave your job and rest in another city, state, hell, country if you want to. 

—

You were never online again. It didn’t show activity from your profile, nor were you lurking. Ronin was staring at the mod activity on his side, at first he thought you were just busy, but looking further it showed the device you have the server was offline for a month. Did you just skip town? After the Devil graciously gave you everything you desired, you left him. Leaving his heart open and yearning for yours. You wanted a grace of the world and knowledge he lived in and now left without a goodby, only getting what you wanted. 

You got it, you got your book as a number one hit, making it into a movie. Though you never show that you wrote that book, he knew it was you. After all, the main character is basically him, his story, his kills, and life was blasted into ink. 

He didn’t know what to feel, mad? Pissed? He knows he is angry with you. But he also is worried. He knows he’ll see you but when…

–

It was two years… Two years. From just a month to you being gone, the server had your server name changed as MIA. You were gone. Everyone knows that you are not coming back. Ronin’s mood soured for weeks, but he seemed better, he just always had you in his mind. Like a parasite infecting his brain, always there but never going away. He always gets into your dms, never texting, just looking. Yearning that text if you ever come back. 

He was supposed to be the one haunting, not you. The latest news about you was about you writing another book. Would you crawl back? Wanting more inspiration from him?

He groans. He needs fresh air… Maybe hit that spot Angel spoke about.

—

When he walked into the cafe Angel recommended, he didn’t expect to see you there. On your computer typing away, you look different, dark circles defining your eyes, saying that you haven’t slept, but the cup next to you probably won't help you either. His eyes were on you, staring at your form. Hoodie and sweatpants, comfy clothing while writing in this cozy cafe. 

But more importantly, you were in front of him. Getting his drink and slipping into the chair in front of you. You didn’t even notice him, well until he tapped his finger next to your laptop. You look up and lower your screen. Before he could make any remark about you going ghost,  you said something that squeezed the idea that you will crawl back.

“Do… I know you?” You tilt your head the same way you usually do, like a puppy learning something.

His dark eyes widened, he felt scared. He could feel his body tense. “It’s me…” His voice was lower, maybe you're lying and just pretending. “Ronin? The one that gave you knowledge.” 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I don’t know you. Maybe we passed each other before?” 

Your eyes were looking at him, those colors he remembered, the way your hair was messy, looking unfamiliar. The more he looks at you, the more he sees someone else. He knew it was you, but… it wasn’t.

“Well, darling,” He remarks. “You dropped everything and left the devil in the dust. The devil gave you what you wanted and you left without a thank you. How could you do that?”

Your response? Raising your eyebrow. You were just confused, like… 

“I’m sorry?” You pulled only one side of your lip into a lopsided smile. You looked so uncomfortable. 

Before anything could happen, your phone ranged, and you slipped with a weak apology. Leaving him in that chair. 

You were still in this town, or you moved back. He was struck, you were here, but you didn't know him, or acted like you didn’t know. He wasn’t in the mood for his drink anymore. Letting it become lukewarm.

—

The plum haired male was in his alleyway, hand on wall as he walked, feeling the bumps and ripples on it. His mind keeps going back to you, you were there in his thoughts, like a leech, clinging on. He couldn’t do anything without you haunting him. 

‘Sorry, do I know you?’ 

Of course, you do. He’s Ronin, the motherfucking Devil’s Butcher, the one who gave you a taste of his aorta, the man who gave you what you wanted. He kicked the corpse’s arm, the body was a few days old. Already making his alleyway smell more like rot. 

He groans as you infect his thoughts again. He’s acting like a teen with a crush who wasn’t getting attention. It was getting worse. You clearly moved on, like you didn’t have those moments of the ball almost dropping that you weren’t a killer. He picked up his blood painted crowbar, and started heading home, it’s been a few hours since he saw you. He should tell the server, letting them know you are alive.

[angelpuns]

sir????? Wdym me aren't even at the climax of Kid Leo yet???? How far ahead did you plan???? Hats off to you man, I could not.

Oh I've planned it to the end, plus a bit more, and then I ended up rewriting the ending just recently :D

I don't like fully committing to an au or a fic or anything without a full plot/idea cause then I won't finish it :3 I actually did go into Kid Leo without that originally but then it got big enough I wanted to be able to finish it one day! So an actual plot happened!

Also yeah we're still about halfway through, even with all the cuts I've made, but not quite to the climax yet!

[starrstruckcanuck]

Been thinking of making a tierlist of my thoughts on all the teams for a while so here it is!! As you can see, I am indifferent to or hate most of the league... 😶‍🌫️🫣 which is why I generally say I'm more of a Canucks fan than a hockey fan lol

[lokissweater]

a million more novembers

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: its you and megumi’s cute little two year anniversary! a car picnic at a stargazing hotspot in the city— snacks, drinks, your loving baseball man, and gifts galore? yes please!

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUUUUFFF GALOOREEEE AWWWUUHHH!!, sexual themes, mostly sfw except for like one steamy part ;), boobie sucking, grinding, soft loving megumi OFCCC, sliight angst but really nothing, all characters are aged up, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 8.8k

authors note: ANNIVERSARY SPEECCCIIAAALLL I AM CRRRYYIINNNGGG!!! i hope you guys enjoy this little side fun mini chapter of sir gumi and reader’s anniversary day, and their endeavors with yuji and readers best friend :333 wanted to give you guys an extra mlb!megumi chapter in celebration of their LUUUUVVV !!! MWAAAHHHHH I LOOOVEE YOUUUU !!! TAKE CAAAREEEE !!! <3333333

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

if you could, you’d fake pass out at this very moment so that way you’d be excused by your professor and get the fuck out of your afternoon lecture right this instant.

but you couldn’t, because attendance was mandatory and you’d lose points upon missing out… and you had an exam next week— which is something you normally just grumbled about and dealt with seeing as it was just a part of being in college, except right now? it was criminal to even think about an upcoming exam like this.

because it was you and megumi’s two year anniversary.

and the only thing you wanted to do was be there with him for the entire day… but because of your classes and megumi having abnormal back to back practices again due to the upcoming world series, you both agreed that you’d drive over to the stadium after your afternoon class and leave together for your little date after he was done.

but even though megumi had practice, you wanted to be at the stadium so fucking badly— watching him pitch and swing and just do what he does best one of your absolute favorite hobbies, the way he plays never getting old and actually illegal to even think that something like that could be a possibility.

you shrunk down in your seat, arms crossed as your professor went over topics about something and guidelines about whatever, you usually paying more attention to the material if it was any regular day but wanting to strangle yourself because the education system was preventing you from being with your man.

your phone lit up suddenly with a notification, you smiling softly to yourself upon realizing who it was and sitting up, grabbing your phone to unlock it.

(gumi <3): how’s class baby

you quickly typed back a response.

(you): do you think if i pretend to pass out right now my professor will excuse me and i can just leave

(gumi <3): lol

(gumi <3): you only have thirty minutes left though right?

(you): okay but gumi what does that have to do with me wanting to pretend to pass out so i can go see you faster

(you): and make fan edits of you while i wait 

(you): I— I MEAN—

(gumi <3): omg

(gumi <3): you’ve made enough of those

(gumi <3): no more

you quietly scoffed in your seat, thumbs rapidly typing away.

(you): gumi i can’t believe you’re not supportive of my extra curricular activities rn

(you): after EVERYTHING i’ve done for you

(you): after all the times i’ve sucked your dick

(you): and i thought you liked my edits :(

megumi took a minute to respond before your phone buzzed again.

(gumi <3): LOL

(gumi <3): i do baby i’m kidding

(gumi <3): and don’t put that image in my head rn

(you): oh??????

(you): and why not???? ;))

(you): boner alert perhaps??? ;))

(you): maybe today during our cute little date you can take me to pound town in the back seat of your car and make me cum and cry all over your dick gumi!!

you shrunk further down in your seat and snickered quietly, funnily shielding your phone to prevent anyone else seated around you in your lecture from seeing the absurd messages on your phone.

(gumi <3): jesus fucking christ

(gumi <3): why are you doing this

(you): because i loooveee youuuu <33

(you): and i can’t wait to seee youuuu <333

(you): maybe i should go to the bathroom rn and send you a boobie pic :P

(gumi <3): please

(gumi <3): fuck wait my breaks over i have to go

(gumi <3): fuck

you mushed a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing out loud, typing a response.

(you): BAAAAHAHAHAH

(you): OMG IM SO SORRY GUMI

(you): HAVE A GOOD REST OF YOUR PRACTICE OKAY ILL SEE YOU IN A BIT! <3

(gumi <3): do you think if i pretend to pass out coach will excuse me

(you): NO GUMI 

(you): GOOOO

(you): GO PLAY GO PLAY

(gumi <3): god

(gumi <3): fine

(gumi <3): i love you pretty baby i’ll see you 

(gumi <3): and pay attention

(you): i love you too gumiiii !!! <333

(you): NO PROMISES BYE !!!

(you): SMOOOCCCHHHH

you breathed out softly through your nose and set your phone back down, one leg crossing over the other as you impatiently waited and practically glared at the powerpoint slides in front of you, your ankle bouncing and mind drifting off again— double checking over the list of things you and megumi needed for your date instead repeatedly in case you forgot something.

since your anniversary couldn’t be an all day thing, the two of you planned a cute little car picnic date at a star gazing hotspot out in the hills of the city, a place megumi had actually been to before in his childhood with gojo and his sister, and one he said he remembered to be nice and quiet with a good view of the stars, similar to how they looked like when you all went on that trip in the mountains a few months ago with his dad, yuji, and your best friend— the fact only making you overly ecstatic, since megumi suggesting something like that without a little gruff and huff was always a special rare sight to see.

and the only things megumi literally allowed you to bring were the fuzzy blankets and pillows and such, him forbidding you from buying absolutely anything else like snacks, drinks, and the food, saying that he had it and it was okay— simply only chuckling and lightly flicking your forehead when you grumbled and fought with him over it in the hopes that he would let you take care of at least half of the things.

he did not.

“alright i think i’ll stop here for today and let you guys go a little earl—”

you shot up from your desk and shoved your books in your bag, not even letting your professor finish before you were already up and speed walking out of the lecture hall and down your building, thanking the gods above for the thousandth time that megumi’s stadium was only a fifteen minute drive from your campus, and therefore made it so much easier for you to drive on over without difficulties and pretty much whenever the fuck wanted… which was all of the time.

just as you plopped in the drivers seat and chucked your bag to the passengers side, an apparent buzzing vibrated through the right back pocket of your skirt as you reached in to pull it out, your best friend’s name flashing at the top.

“hellooo!” you answered, swinging the door shut and turning on the ignition, the heater unit blasting through the vents and warming up the spiking chilly temperature in your car.

“hi babe!” your best friend greeted. “how far away are you?”

“i just got out of class! i should be there in about ten if i go over the speed limiiit.” you grinned, putting your phone on speaker and setting it down on your lap, backing out of your parking space.

“SHE SAID TEN MINUTES GOING OVER THE SPEED LIMIT MEGU— what?! i can’t— i can’t hear you idiot you’re across the fucking field!—”

you laughed loudly as you drove out of your campus parking lot, zooming down the street and going the usual route to his stadium.

“oh my— megumi ordered and yelled at me to call you to see how far you were babe.” she sighed. “when is this man ever gonna treat me fairly this is ridiculous— WHAT?! TELL HER WHAT?!—”

“i’m about eight minutes away now!” you laughed. “tell him that please i’m almost there—”

“WAIT SHE SAID SHE’S EIGHT MINUTES AWA— oh my god okay megumi says not to go over the speed limit and to park next to him in the players parking lot.”

“tell him i said watching him play baseball is more important than the law i don’t give a—”

“SHE SAID WATCHING YOU PLAY BASEBALL IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LAW— oh he’s coming. save yourself and hang up y/n he’s coming— YUJI GET HIM HE’S GONNA TAKE MY PHONE— ARGH STOP!—”

“—go over the speed limit and see what happens.”

a different deeper voice muttered over the line, partially out of breath and one you instantly recognized to be megumi’s as you giggled.

“gumi the speed limit is a social construct and if i don’t get to watch you play for the last thirty minutes of practice i’m gonna gauge my eyeballs out.”

“baseball’s also a social construct.” he deadpanned. “and you watch me play all of the time baby don’t speed you drive like a fucking street racer sometimes.”

“but isn’t it cool and sexy that i do? eehh?” you quipped in a silly way. “and i don’t care how many times i’ve seen you play gumi… i still need to be admitted into a mental facility each time it’s embarrassing.”

he chuckled softly.

“you almost here?”

“yeah! i’m just pulling into the stadium i’m going over to your structure right now.”

“okay.” he spoke. “park next to me please.”

“—megumi i told her that already—”

“can you not eavesdrop—”

“—if it has to do with y/n fuck no—”

“—okay!” you sputtered while shifting your gear to park and turning off the ignition, cutting their bickering off. “i’m here gumi i’m gonna walk to the stadium now.”

“alright i’ll see you baby.” 

“i’ll see you!—”

“your phone time’s revoked asswipe give me my device right now—”

“—can you mind your fucking business for two seconds—”

“NO!—”

you winced and hung up the phone, shaking your head amusedly as you grabbed your keys and stepped out of the car before locking it, walking your way over across the parking structure and to the entrance of the stadium, maneuvering through various hallways and corners like muscle memory and politely saying hello to some of the team’s staff that you recognized as you walked.

you passed through the main hall— megumi’s giant glorious handsome portrait still displayed proudly against the wall amongst his other teammates, prestigious awards and trophies in glass frames and casings littering the room from practically top to bottom as you happily moved through the hall, passing by the same bench that you first unknowingly and officially met megumi in while you were embarrassingly crying your eyes out over him— a treasured memory that you swoon over every now and then at the way he kindly gave you his sunglasses to hide your big fat tears.

you hoped that megumi’s management never replaced that freaking bench, as you wanted to put a plaque on it in commemoration of you and your emo man, knowing that if they ever did you’d be at those stadium doors first thing in the morning to grab and take it home with you to keep.

upon opening the doors to the stadium, you continued on down the steps as you looked on ahead and squinted your eyes, distant hollers and the clanking of bats echoing through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere, several players out on the field practicing and pitching but none being megumi as you reached the bottom and went inside the bullpen, expecting to see your best friend sitting there and possibly still fighting with your boyfriend, but faltering instead.

because megumi was sat there on the bench by himself with his baseball cap on… waiting for you, a bouquet of pretty pink tulips in his arms as he looked straight over the field with an emotionless gaze, his head snapping to you once he heard you coming in and standing up, his face gradually warming.

pink tulips were your favorite.

“gumi…” you spoke softly, astonished and mushy inside as you grabbed the bouquet from him, it neatly tucked in brown paper wrap and pretty pink tule with a little matching bow around the stems to tie it off, the paper crinkling in your arms.

“hi.”

“oh my— these are gorgeous baby thank you!” you gushed, your cheeks hot and you absolutely beaming as you swung your unoccupied arm around his neck and brought him in, pecking his slightly sweaty cheek repeatedly as he huffed out a breathy laugh and pulled you to him.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured, cheek lightly resting against the side of your head as you smiled.

“you really didn’t have to gumi you bought basically everything for today…” you spoke softly, bringing your head back a bit to look at him.

he shrugged.

“so.”

you scoffed. “so? you don’t let me do anything and i feel oppressed.”

he snorted, playfully rolling his eyes and kissing your forehead. 

dramatic.

“it’s fine baby.”

“okay but it’s not.” you grumbled lowly, and the corners of his lips quirked up, taking a tiny step back as he released you and lifted a hand, gently pinching your cheek.

“you look really pretty.”

your pout slid into a cheeky smile, a cute blush rising to your cheeks.

“thank you gumi!” you readjusted the bouquet in your arms and shyly looked away, his direct dark blue eyes on you still nerve wracking even after two years. 

“h— how come you’re not on the field?”

“oh.” megumi’s gaze shifted to his playing teammates. “i wanted to give you the tulips before going back out.”

your eyes softened, chest clenching as you stood up on your tippy toes and gave him a little kiss.

“you’re so nice…” you murmured. 

“i—”

“fushiguro i need you back on the field!”

megumi huffed and rolled his eyes at his coach interrupting his time with you, hands reluctantly dropping from your waist as he took a step back.

“m’sorry baby...” he sighed tiredly, lifting his cap up from his spiky hair and adjusting it back on. “practice is almost over i promise.”

you frantically shook your head. “no gumi it’s okay don’t apologize! go please though i don’t want you to get in trouble.”

he nodded, quickly pecking your cheek before stepping out of the bullpen and back out on the field, turning his body slightly just as he reached the home plate and raising a hand to you as a little goodbye, shifting his attention to his coach and the rest of his teammates once he saw you give him one back.

you walked over to the benches then and sat, your eyes happily watching the mock game unfold as you settled your pretty bouquet carefully over your lap.

“please tell me you guys are done it’s fucking cold up here in the stands—”

your head shot to the side and you instantly smiled, your best friend popping her head in from the bullpen entrance and shivering.

“heyyy! oh my god yes come come—” you scooched over and patted the spot next to you, her trodding over and plopping down.

“let me seeeee!” she squealed and nudged your shoulder with hers, gesturing to your tulips as you lit up and turned the bouquet in her direction, her jaw dropping.

“i hate him but he’s good.” she muttered, shaking her head as you laughed and lightly hit her arm. 

megumi ran through a few bases, passing by the bullpen and stopping at a base closest to it with remnants of brown dirt puffing and swirling through the air, him looking over his shoulder at you briefly before turning back to the game.

“he does so much for me that i feel like a big fat loser that does mediocre for him.” you spoke worriedly, and your girl friend looked at you bewilderedly.

“are you kidding? y/n you being with him is enough jesus that man is an ogre—”

you flicked her forehead and she cackled, pushing your hand away.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry i’m joking… kind of…whatever— babe you literally do so much let him dote on you like this… that man loves you.”

you pursed your lips to suppress a giddy smile.

“plus after the pain and torture we both went through with your high school boyfriend christ—”

“oh my god don’t remind me.” you mumbled, shifting your attention back to the field. “he sucked so bad.”

she laughed. “and it took you forever to realize that he was a loser y/n… you gave him too much and he gave you absolutely nothing.”

you solemnly nodded, the feeling of miserable regret filling your body.

“granted i think megumi’s also a loser.” she continued, and you playfully glared. “but! he’s a different kind of loser. he’s good for you babe… and you’re super good for him.”

you grinned brightly at her, set your bouquet to the side, and threw your arms around her shoulders, bringing her in a tight hug as she laughed loudly and held you back with just as much love.

“have fun on your anniversary date tonight!” your girl friend exclaimed. “you guys are still going to that stargazing spot right?”

“mhm!” you nodded. “we’re going up in his car and setting up the backseat once we get there.”

“are you guys getting freaky too back there?—”

your head snapped ahead to find yuji leaning against the gate of the bullpen on the other side, your eyes wide and mortified as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestingly.

“h—huh?—”

“eehhh?” your best friend matched her boyfriends expression, her eyes twinkling and mischievous. “valid question yu! what are you wearing under your outfit let me see—”

you yelped as your best friend pulled and tugged at the collar of your chunky knitted sweater, basically shoving her head through to see what you had on and you pushing on her shoulders to try and get her away.

“stop you sicko!—”

“y/n why the fuck don’t you have a lingerie set under here—”

“oh my god shut your mouth right now—”

megumi curiously turned his head over to the commotion by the bullpen, jaw dropping and eyes growing big in absolute dumb struck horror as he watched your best friend basically trying to strip your sweater off of you, and yuji just standing there and watching like a fucking pervert—

“itadori!” he barked, and yuji jumped a whopping fifteen feet in the air, swiveling around to face him.

“oh hey man!— WHAT THE FU—”

megumi hurled a literal baseball at him and yuji dove out of the way, the ball hitting against the gate of the bullpen as you and your best friend jumped at the slamming noise.

“the fuck are you guys doing?!” megumi yelled, arms out in emphasis as he quickly strode over with pinched brows.

he looked to you as soon as he properly reached the bullpen, the collar of your sweater stretched out over an exposed shoulder with your black bra literally peeking out, your pretty eyes wide and downright alarmed as your best friend still had an iron tugging grip on your sweater.

megumi’s gaze hardened, switching to your girl friend.

“get off.”

he looked to yuji, his legs wobbling in fear as he used the gaps of the bullpen gate to lift himself up from the dirt.

“close your fucking eyes—”

“yes sir fushiguro sir!—”

“what?!” your best friend exclaimed. “megumi if you guys are gonna fuck in the backseat she needs to be looking scrumptious—”

his face paled and his cheeks turned a vibrant pink simultaneously.

“why are you guys always like this?” he muttered exasperatedly, stepping inside the bullpen now and pushing her off of you, your girl friend scoffing as megumi pulled your collar back over your shoulder and fixed your sweater for you, your lips clamped shut as you tried your best to refrain yourself from laughing.

“oh my bad. thought the perv in you would thank my services—”

“why the hell would i thank you for stripping my girlfriend in front of the entire fucking team—”

“—y/n i literally think i have a lingerie set in my car i’ll give it to you it’s new i just bought it to show yuji—”

you gasped. 

“wait really?! what color? i wanted to wear one but i didn’t want to show up to class with it—”

megumi’s eyes bulged and shot to you, mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

“i think it’s red but i’m pretty sure your tits are bigger than mine lemme see—”

your best friend yanked your collar again and you screamed as megumi grabbed you and pulled you up against his chest, shielding you away from your lunatic girl friend as she cackled and pointed at megumi.

“megumi’s getting a boonneeerrrr!—”

his eyes frantically switched between her and yuji— his hands still tightly clasped over his eyes.

“what kind of sick fucks are you both?!”

you giggled uncontrollably over his appalled menacing face, your laughter muffling up against his uniform.

“us?!” your best friend yelled. “don’t get me started on you! i saw that text you sent y/n last week asking to send a video of her fi—”

“oh god babe don’t finish that sentence also can i open my eyes now you guys—”

“itadori! fushiguro! huddle up!”

yuji timidly seperated his fingers and looked at the group, hands dropping and a wide smile spreading once he realized you weren’t half naked anymore.

“off we go fushiguro!” he quipped, turning and the dirt crackling beneath his cleats as he walked. “boss man wants us—”

“i heard him.” megumi grumbled, arms loosening from their hold around you as they slid and fell at his sides, his face just plain out annoyed and over it, and you smiled sweetly at him.

“it’s okay!” you poked his cheek. “i’ll wait for you here while you guys finish up? or do you want me to go inside the locker rooms already?”

“go to the locker rooms baby.” he mumbled. “it’s cold.”

you nodded, and he placed a hand on your head with the tiniest smile, heading out of the bullpen after and jogging up to the rest of his teammates for regrouping and final announcements.

your best friend swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and you both made your way to the exit just as you grabbed your bouquet again, walking up the steps of the stands and down a few corridors and pathways until you reached the echoey hallway, the teams locker room coming into view as you pushed the heavy door open and went in.

“do you still want my lingerie set?” your girl friend asked, fixing her hair in front of one of the big mirrors. “we could still try and see if it fits but your boobs are huge compared to mine—”

you laughed and waved her off. “it’s okay babe! thank you though… i don’t think we’re gonna do anything like that out in the open and in the middle of nowhere…”

she shrugged, sending you a little smirk through the mirror. “megumi’s a weirdo. so i think you in fact will.”

you shot her a funny glare and walked to your boyfriends locker while placing your pretty bouquet down on the bench— turning the little knob around and hitting the numbers that made up his locker combination, the metal clinking open and you opening it to organize his clothes and equipment like you usually did.

you dragged his heavy duffel bag out and unzipped it, rummaging around a little to find the clothes that he had packed for your date today— spotting his thick black crewneck and gray cargo pants as you took them out and folded them neatly on the bench in front of you, setting the rest of the things he needed to the side and perking up once you heard distant chattering and banter, several players starting to pile in as you shot a few polite smiles, stepping over the bench and plopping down to wait for megumi.

“i said no.”

“pleeeaaasee!” yuji begged, the two of them emerging from the entryway as you lit up at the sight of your grumpy man, his agitated eyes to the floor as he trudged over. “i thought we were best friends fushiguro. brothers if you will—”

“no.”

“pleaaaseee!—”

“what does he want?” you laughed softly, megumi’s eyes coming up and moving to his tidily folded clothes that you had set for him on the bench, his gaze softening.

“nothing bab—”

“wrestle!” yuji wailed, dramatically leaning his entire weight on your best friend in a hug as she dumbfoundedly reciprocated, patting his back. “i wanted to see who’s strongest…”

“babe go change you’re sweaty—”

“not until fushiguro wrestles with me—”

“no.”

“whyyy?!”

you giggled loudly, hand over your mouth as megumi sent you a small close lipped smile and stepped over the bench to his locker, taking off his baseball cap and hanging it inside.

“because it’s stupid.” he mumbled, and yuji scoffed.

“wrestling is the ultimate sport for strategy, discipline and character how could any of that be stupid—”

“yu change i wanna go homeee!” your best friend whined, trying to pry him off of her. “i’ll wrestle with you.”

yuji sprung up and grinned. “will you actually?! i won’t go easy babe i can’t play favorites—”

“yes now move—”

“if i win can you suck my di—”

megumi flung his deodorant at yuji’s head and rolled his eyes as he cried out and pouted, the little container clattering against the ground.

“gumi!” you gasped. “be nice please.”

he sighed softly through his nose, unbuttoning his jersey as he begrudgingly and briefly looked over his shoulder.

“sorry.”

“oh wait what was that?” you girl friend spoke up. “i think you need to speak up a little megumi! can’t hear you.”

“i said sorry.” he spat, and she smiled, satisfied.

“you’re forgiven! thanks!”

megumi grumbled as he shook his jersey off and long sleeve underneath with it, his little chain with his promise ring dangling out around his collar, and you shamelessly and obviously drooling over his bare toned frame then as he sorted through his clothes and got his things ready for the shower— the locker room emptying out now and only one or two players remaining besides the lot of you.

you extended a hand out, wanting megumi to give you his jersey and long sleeve as he shifted his attention to you.

“what baby.”

“i’ll put it in the laundry bin for you!” you spoke sweetly. “so you can go shower.”

his heart squeezed as he shook his head. “s’okay. just wait for me.”

“gumi the laundry room’s just down the hall.” you laughed, taking his uniform from him. “i’ll be quick.”

he pursed his lips, feeling like you’ve already done more than enough for him and him just dicking around and playing ball for hours this entire time, wanting to get your date started so he could spend time with you and give you the things he wanted to give you, and not be around idiot insane people anymore (yuji and your best friend).

“sit down please.” he mumbled.

your jaw dropped.

“i’m being oppressed again—”

“we’ll see you guys tomorrow!” your girl friend smiled, coming over and giving you a hug as yuji went to put a hand on megumi’s shoulder. “have fun on your date! and happy anniversaryyy!”

“thank youuuu!” you responded kindly, hugging her back and swaying funnily, letting her go after and looking to her boyfriend. “drive safe yuji okay?”

“will do!” he smiled brightly, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. “have fun you guys. and don’t get mauled by bears.”

you snorted, the both of you pulling back and waving at each other with final goodbyes before they turned and began walking to the exit, now the only ones left in the locker rooms being you and megumi. 

“text me if you have sex in the back y/n!”

“oh my god!—” you miserably dropped your head in your hands as your girl friends vulgar sentence literally echoed throughout the hallway outside, anyone within a one inch radius able to hear it as megumi laughed quietly, the doors to the locker room officially closing.

“your best friend is clinically insane.”

you giggled, nudging him away playfully and him catching your wrist just as you did so, tugging you in and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“no she’s not.” you smiled cutely, your little cheek pressed up against the warm skin of his chest as he looked at you. “she’s honest. and lovely.”

“and deluded.”

“gumi!”

“sorry.”

he craned his neck down and kissed you, every tense muscle in his body giving away and slowly oozing into a state of peace as your soft lips moved with his, megumi finally having you to himself for the night so he could properly get your anniversary going.

he pulled away and patted your head.

“m’gonna shower really quick baby.”

“okay!” you smiled. “can i sit by the shower with you? heh.”

he chuckled and nodded, interlocking his fingers with yours and pulling you towards the shower room— a spacious and modern area with individual stalls and little plushy sofas across from them, megumi leading you to one as you sat down and took his fresh pair of clothes from him to set on your lap.

“remember when i fucked you in here.”

“gumi!” you gasped as your face grew red. “okay but which time because my favorite time was two weeks ago when you bent me over th—”

he laughed, the boyish sound bouncing off the tile walls as he shook his head with a little faint blush to his cheeks, fingers coming down to unbutton his pants and your hands flying to cover over your eyes, him pausing and looking at you quizzically.

“what.”

“i’m giving you privacy gumi. something you wouldn’t know about in regards to me.”

he scoffed.

“kay fine. i’ll stop asking—”

“no!” you yelled, hands clasping together like a prayer. “don’t finish that sentence i don’t wanna know i don’t need to know whatever it is continue doing it—”

megumi rolled his eyes with a smile, taking off the rest of his clothes and you squeaking as you covered your line of sight again, the sound of the shower running with the door closing an indicator to you that the coast was clear for you to look, hands coming down as they settled over megumi’s clean clothes.

and he literally took less than five minutes to shower… or maybe it was because your little endless chattering made the time go by faster or the fact that you always took close to an hour, but he was out of there with a towel around his delicious waist before you could even realize and on the way out to change into his outfit.

megumi straight from the shower was always an interesting sight to see, for the usual spikes in his jet black hair were nonexistent for the time being as his hair just laid flat, and he almost looked like an entirely different man as you stood on the other side of the bench behind him while he sat tying his shoe laces, you drying his hair with a small white hand towel.

“i’m really excited for tonight gumi!” you cheesed. “oh! and i brought my laptop too incase you wanted to watch a movieeee.”

he straightened up from his hunched over position and stood, turning around to kiss your head in gratitude before taking the towel from you and drying off the last bit of his hair.

“sounds good baby.” he grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder, keys hooked from one of his belt loops on his pants as he offered his hand out to you on the way out of the locker room, you happily taking it and interlacing your fingers in the hallway, the both of you walking on to leave the stadium with your bouquet in your arm, making a quick pit stop at the laundry room first to toss his uniform and towels in one of the various hampers, leaving and going through the main hall hand in hand after with the building basically vacant now— not a single player, staff, or management member around as you moved your way down corridors to the exit, entering the parking garage.

megumi grabbed his keys and clicked a button upon reaching the players parking lot area, his shiny black car beeping and flickering its lights and him opening the door to the backseat to throw his stuff in, you catching a glimpse of the piles of grocery bags filled with chips, snacks, pastries and such as you smiled, unlocking your own vehicle and opening your trunk as megumi did his.

he swiftly stepped in and grabbed your blankets and a few pillows, transferring them over to his car and you setting your bouquet down in the back, throwing in a few other things.

“oh gumi!” 

“hm?”

you opened your drivers side door and reached in, megumi peering around from his open trunk to look at you.

“i got us a little lunchbox cake!” you pulled out a small white cake carrier and showed him. “and a number two candle too so we can light it!”

“oh nice baby.” he calmly smiled, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out his wallet.

you blinked.

“what are you doing?”

he gave you a confused look, opening the folds and taking out a few twenty dollar bills.

“for the cake.”

“what?!” you frantically shook your head. “no i got this for us—”

he scoffed, extending his arm out to you regardless with a pile of bills in hand that was way over the initial cost of the little cake, your jaw running slack.

“oh absolutely not sir i’m not taking that—”

“take it.”

“nope!”

“y/n.”

“nuh uh.”

megumi sighed and retracted his hand. “i’m putting it in your purse—”

“if you put it in my purse i swear to god i’m never letting you see me naked ever again—”

he froze and narrowed his eyes at you, you standing there with a shit eating grin as you tilted your head.

“just get in the car.” he grumbled, slamming his trunk shut and doing the same with yours, you cheering in your head and lighting up over your win as you opened his passenger side door and got in, completely unaware of megumi choosing to take his chances and shove the bills in your purse anyways.

the car ride there was a whopping one hour, seeing as the stargazing hotspot was in the middle of the bustling city where megumi’s apartment was around, your boyfriend making frequent stops at various food places to pick up the food he had ordered for the picnic, and you still fighting with him over the fact that he should let you pay at least half, him just laughing at your huffs and puffs until he simmered you down to a mere grumble with a kiss to your cheek.

“i don’t care how many times i’ve done it there isn’t a limit.” 

megumi backed in reverse once he found a good spot for you both on the hill, looking behind through his rear view window with a hand on the back of your headrest.

“but you have to let me pay sometimes gumi.” you sighed softly. “i feel like im freeloading off of your millions and doing fucking nothing.”

he gave you a bewildered look.

“first of all.” he shifted his gear into park. “you do everything so don’t give me that. second of all—”

he unlocked the car and you both got out, the trunk latching open on its own as you walked over.

“you’re not supposed to pay baby.” he stared at you sincerely, a little crease in between his brows. “ever. i don’t care.”

he unhooked the backseats and pushed them down, the trunk now extending even wider and leaving plenty of space for the two of you to set up your picnic, your shoes off and down below next to the car.

“i just—” you struggled, shaking out the blankets and splaying them out. “i worry that it’ll bother you eventually…”

“it won’t.” he responded firmly, yet still gentle. “did your ex-boyfriend make you feel bad about it? is that why?”

you froze.

“no…”

he looked over his shoulder just as he set a pillow down, dark blue eyes staring you down.

“wow i’m so hungry right now gumi are you—”

“i heard what your best friend said during practice about him.” he set a few more pillows down. “she talks like a linebacker.”

you laughed, grabbing the box of fairy lights you had brought and pulling them out, untangling them by sections.

megumi never really asked too in detail about your ex, just because he knew he’d get bitter and bothered by the thought of it, and the only things he really knew was that he was a moron who said you were a blabbermouth and didn’t treat you right at all, your three and a half year relationship with him in high school one megumi wished he could erase entirely.

but now with the way you squirmed and stared off into space in avoidance over this particular topic… he was curious.

just how bad was he?

“did he pay for your dates or did you.”

you fiddled with a little fairy light bulb.

“well— he did… but then we started splitting it… and then i started paying…”

megumi shook his head, reaching for the grocery bags and taking out the snacks he’d bought.

“why.”

you finished untangling the cord and reached up, looping the lights around through the grab handles of the car.

“i don’t really know…” you mumbled. “but i felt bad because he always did initially pay… so i was just giving back. but then—”

you looped it through the last handle and grabbed the battery box.

“i remember one time he asked me if we could split the bill on our anniversary dinner.”

megumi stopped.

“and then every time he did pay for me he would say side joking comments like— ‘are you gonna pay this time? are you gonna take care of the bill? since i bought you dinner are you gonna buy me this?’ blah blah—”

megumi was looking directly at you at this point, eyebrows furrowed and with slightly parted lips as he slowly set up the food and listened.

“and i don’t mess around when it comes to things like money.” you finished off screwing the battery box after putting a fresh pair in, switching the small lever and the fairly lights twinkling to life. “i appreciated so much every time he did pay so i just felt like i was— i don’t know i just felt guilty. his side comments made me feel a little awkward…”

you scooched over and sat back on your ankles next to megumi, helping him with the groceries.

“i remember one time too for valentine’s day, we had gone out to eat dinner and he paid with his usual side comment… but when we got back to his place i had given him his gift and he hadn’t gotten anything for me at all.”

“huh?” he spoke up. “did he give you flowers at least?”

you shook your head, a little sad look on your face.

“he told me my gift was dinner… which again i did really appreciate that he paid. and he never really got me flowers either unless it was for special occasions like anniversaries… so once a year?”

megumi was in complete and utter disbelief.

how in the ever living fuck were you ever with a guy like that for so long? a girl like you whom he literally worshipped the shit out of the ground you walked on, the thought of you being so incredibly sweet and doting and selfless for some dumb fuck who just took advantage of your kindness again aggravating megumi, him chucking the pastries he bought out of the bags one by one bitterly and you blinking at him.

“what a fucking idiot.”

you giggled, nodding in agreement as you both finished setting up, you crawling and sitting down by the mountain of fluffy pillows as you extended an arm out for him.

“that’s why i just get nervous gumi…” you spoke softly, pulling him to lay down next to you as you looked at the beading stars through his open sun roof, the view and landscape of the sparkling city below insane as megumi slid an am around your shoulders, nudging you to lay on his chest. “i don’t wanna end up bothering you or upsetting you about it and repeating the cycle so—”

“oh god baby no…” he looked at you, squeezing your shoulder. “you realize all of that was because he’s a loser right.”

“yeah to an extent—”

“no not to an extent.” megumi cut you off. “i know for a fact he never did anything for you… and for him to do shit like that on top of it is crazy.”

you slid a slow arm across his torso and held him tighter.

“i do what i do because i love you… and because you deserve it. and because i’m supposed to.”

you smiled big, your heart hammering in your chest as you slung your leg across his lap and straddled him then, megumi’s hands instantly coming to settle on your waist as you gave him a cute wicked look.

“i’m tired of talking about him, but you know what else you’re supposed to do?”

the side of his lip curled.

“what pretty baby.”

“make out with me.”

he laughed, a shiny smile on his face as he reached a hand up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, cupping your face after and bringing you down to his level.

“if you tell me you love me.”

you giggled.

“i love you gumi.”

megumi brought you in then and kissed you, light little smacks and wet lips parting and moving as your noses brushed against each other’s delicately, his thumb running gently over your cheek as you readjusted and leaned in, deepening the kiss and megumi parting his lips wider as a result to drink more of you down.

your hips subconsciously rutted downward, him taking a sharp breath in through his nose as he responded and lifted his crotch up, meeting with yours and grinding sensually with every steamy exchange of your soft plush lips on his, both of his hands quickly going down to grab your smooth thighs and knead them.

megumi suddenly slid a fast hand up your chunky sweater to cup your tit, you squeaking and trying to pull your lips off of his so you could speak, but him only chasing after your mouth and trapping you in.

“wait what if— mmph!—” 

“hm?” 

he forced your hips down again and you both moaned at the stimulation.

“what if someone walks by there’s a— fuck— there’s a few cars not too far—”

“don’t care.”

“gumi!—”

he yanked your bra cup down and your tit spilled out, his head diving in under your sweater and popping your nipple in his mouth, both of your hips still grinding and rocking against each others as you dazedly tried to look around for any passing people.

you tried to pull off and megumi yanked your other bra cup down, jerking you roughly to him as your weight gave out underneath you and you basically fell on him, his face fully submerged and stuffed in your puffy tits that he nearly lost it and came in his pants.

lewd slobbering sounds filled the car as he sucked and laid his tongue flat all over your boobs, your shuttering gasps and whines making his dick rock fucking solid in his pants as he continued to make out with your chest, relishing in the feeling of your panties running up and down his crotch and your pretty little skirt exposing your ass.

“baby i’m flashing the city please—”

“m’gonna stick my dick in.”

“no!” you whined, your clit pulsing with every rut from his hips. “when we get home when we get home please it’ll be so obvious we’re having sex if we do—”

he bit the fat of your tit and you yelped.

“it’s our anniversary.”

“i— i know gumi but there’s people!—”

he groaned and let your tits go with a pop, head falling back on the pillows as he looked at you with a dead look— knowing you were completely and absolutely right but refusing to believe it because he was fucking horny, the only conscious brain cell that he had left telling him to just wait and that he’d actually cum in his pants if he kept going.

a tiny smirk spread across his face.

“thought you texted me that i could take you to pound town in the backseat of my car.” 

you blushed, totally forgetting you did that.

“y—yes but—”

“and that you were gonna send me a picture of your tits.”

“i—”

“you lying to me baby?”

“no!” you sputtered. “no gumi we’re still gonna have sex just not here!”

he laughed loudly and nodded, pinching your cheek as he fixed your bra and pulled your sweater down, sitting up a bit.

“i’m kidding s’okay.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “m’taking pictures of you when we get to my apartment though.”

“huh?!” you exclaimed, your face buzzing with embarrassment but need at the same time. “what— what kind—”

he poked your side. 

“naked.”

your jaw dropped.

“legs spread with—”

“okay i get it i get it!—”

you slapped your hands over his mouth and muffled the rest of his sentence, desperate to get him to stop.

“i have your gift i have your gift open your gift!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and licked his slimy tongue on your palms, you snatching your hands away and giggling as you wiped them on his sweater.

“i told you not to get me anything.”

“too bad!” you grinned, pecking his cheek before swinging yourself off of his lap and reaching into the passengers seat. “close your eyes!”

he sighed softly, a small smile on his face as he complied, hearing slight tissue paper rustlings and things moving before he felt you next to him again.

“okay open!”

his long lashes lifted, eyes growing soft at the ginormous basket you made him— his favorite candies and chips neatly propped up inside with a little baseball teddy bear that had ‘cool baseball man’ embroidered across its jersey, a framed silly picture of the two of you from one of the nights you slept over at his place, various volumes of his current favorite manga wrapped in black tissue paper along with a lego race car set, and a separate shoe box next to the basket— a brand new pair of baseball cleats that he had been specifically eyeing and needing to buy, and knowing that it was ridiculously expensive too as his bulging eyes shot up to your giddy ones.

“baby—” his words got caught in his throat, shaking his head. “baby thank you but you didn’t have to get anything seriously—”

“the fuck.” you snorted. “yes i did! do you likeeee?”

you pushed the shoe box towards him.

“did i get the right ones? these are the cleats you’ve been wanting right?”

he nodded dumbly. “y—yeah but they’re expensive i don’t want you spending this much.”

“gumi money is a social construct.” you smiled. “but my love for you isn’t… it’s bible! happy anniversary!”

megumi looked down and slowly took the little grizzly bear out of the basket, everything you gave him absolutely perfect and filled with the things he loved, but the custom bear with the nickname you always called him— the same one he adored ever since you first said it, somehow pulling at his heart strings more than anything else.

“i love you.” he mumbled. “thank you.”

you beamed, leaning over and pecking his lips.

“because you do everything for me gumi.” you spoke. “i can’t thank you enough for the things you do for me… and i love you.”

a cute pink blush rose to his cheeks as his gaze stayed locked on the bear, feeling his throat closing up from how much you were affecting him at the moment.

he sent you a smile.

“can i give you mine?”

you stopped.

“what? i thought the pretty tulips were my gift?”

he snorted, giving you a look.

“no you dummy.” 

he reached under one of the seats, pulling gift bag after gift bag after gift bag from somewhere as he placed them all in a line in front of you, a shocked look on your face as you looked at the amount of tissue paper and packaging that was in your line of sight.

“holy shit.” you flashed him a growing dazzling smile. “are you— for me? actually?”

he nodded.

“guummiii!!” you flung your arms around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug, rubbing your cheek on his head side to side in a silly way before you let go and sat back on your ankles again, him chuckling at your excitement.

“i don’t even—” your eyes darted around. “i don’t even know which one—”

one by one you unraveled each wrapping and tore open each bag, your lap filling up with things that you fucking loved as you tried not to cry between opening each gift— pretty intricate coquette bottled perfumes that you liked to collect everywhere as you knew they were also a pretty penny (so him complaining about his cleats was dumb), cute mary jane pumps and makeup you needed as well as new that you’d been wanting, silver and gold sparkling jewelry that resided in small boxes and wrapped in pretty pink bows, sweaters and cute tops and just fucking everything as you ended up a crying snotting mess at the end of it anyways, him laughing at you.

because each item were things that you needed, things that you knew he couldn’t have possibly known unless he was truly paying attention to the things you were saying and the things you were looking at… this moment proving that he most definitely was.

and a crazy wicked amount too— because some of the items in front of you were even things you had merely mentioned once and done with, accompanied by others that you babbled on about whenever you could.

“gumi we can have sex right now let’s have sex i don’t care—”

he laughed for the millionth time and shot his hands out, literally trying to pull you off of him as you lunged and leaned your entire weight on him, practically fighting him by the end of it as you giggled and tried to get in his pants.

“you’re harassing me.” he mumbled, and you scoffed.

“like you don’t do this to me everyday of my living life— eek!”

megumi bit your cheek and you pushed on his chest to get him away, him not budging as his nibbling travelled down to your neck as you gasped for air laughing at how much that was tickling you, and him knowing that was what usually set you off into a giggle fit, your stomach aching and him dodging your hits and swings, but both of your hearts full from a days worth of complete and utter unconditional love.

and neither of you would have it any other way as you shared the food and pastries you bought, stuffing your faces full of chocolates and mochi specifically as you both had insane sweet tooth’s and weren’t ashamed of it, chatted on about future plans and your excitement for megumi and the upcoming world series, and you elated for the holiday season too that was fast approaching, your little mind already thinking of gifts and plans and decisions because your boyfriend’s birthday was coming up as well.

and you wanted to do everything you possibly could to make it special.

for he made you feel that everyday.

especially now in this moment, the little heart shaped lunchbox cake you bought with ‘happy 2nd anniversary’ in cursive still looking fucking delicious even after you and megumi had just downed an entire pack of brownies, megumi lightning up the number two candle as you pushed it in the cake, and the both of you sweetly pecking lips as you held up the cake in between the two of you and him snapping a picture with his phone— candid and lovely and everything you’d both ever wanted in your lives rightfully yours right then and there.

happiness. love. 

and your hearts were swelling with everything you had built for the past two years, and swelling in anticipation for the hopes and curiosity of what else the two of you would continue to build… something you only hoped would last forever and ever and that you got to count and spend even more anniversaries with megumi from this point forward.

with nothing less, nothing extra, and just like this.

for a million more november’s to come.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @drftnzume @k0z3me @saelov3 @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @tinyray-lovesfood @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever @yoonights @skendos @babylambdietcoke @yunstarz @dinomdubs @kalulakunundrum @s777athv @sugoroo @wastednightsonyou @miri222 @jayawaya @dazailover4ever @courtneedsleep @kcch-ns @halovianembrace @tsukuhoe @kayamor @lupicalbestwolf @therealkurapikakurta @amarahi123 @poisonharlivy @a-sorrowful-tune @amarraaxd @cheeseburgerr69 @sleepiibunniiii

[lizziesfirstwife]

YES!! Grace us with your masterpiece :P

Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: hints of yearning, depressed themes, obsessed jinu?, clueless reader, use of Y/N, slow burnnn, suggestive language, not proof-read

word count: 3140

authors note: this is my first fic in a long time, so please bear with me as english isn’t my first language. have as much fun reading this as I had writing this! <3

preview to part 2 moodboard for part 2

Part 2

Jinu hated Sundays. 

Sunday was the one day of the week when most of the population made it comfortable at home, not putting a single foot outside. There was nothing wrong with it being Sunday itself. A few lone pedestrians stretched through the alleys of the metropolis, mostly nurses who had the bad luck of having to work on weekends and teen groups who used the calmness of the city to hang out undisturbed. 

Jinu hated Sundays more than anything.

They were quiet, forcing one to think about all the things that seemingly went wrong the past 6 days. He didn't want to think. A normal person would have used a free Sunday to meet up with their relatives, or spend a spa day in front of the TV. 

The deeper Jinu sank into his thoughts, the more dense and dark the clouds in the sky above him became. He wasn't human. He shouldn't think about whether it was worth getting up in the morning, if it was worth carrying on with the small flame of hope he managed to sustain all these centuries. 

Contrary to all religious and folklore beliefs, demons needed sleep. Jinu slept, but didn't dream. And he was glad. Because not even demons are immune to the ghosts of their past that haunt them. 

The road was clean, the puddles from last night's thunderstorm still deep in the ditch.  

He had swapped his usually colorful clothes for something dark. No colorful pants, no colorful shirt. It didn't seem right to him. He was lost in the small crowd of the city, blending in too well as if he were one of them. One of many aimless figures desperately seeking their meaning in life. 

Sunday was the day Jinu dreaded the most. Not just because it left him alone with his thoughts, but because of the people. Or rather the lack of them. 

Nobody went out on Sundays. Hardly anyone. Not even in this big city, where new gambling stores opened every day and small businesses had to close because the rents were too high. 

The people worked so much, that they spent the time they had left with their families. He wondered what it was like to come home to a warm meal, how it felt to spend time with people who expected nothing from you in return for their acceptance. He wanted to be accepted, deep down. But acceptance was a luxury. Tolerance was a prosperity that was easier to uphold, easier to manipulate. 

Sundays were the most unprofitable days for the soul hunters. Many stores closed on Sundays, almost no activity available for the lost souls of this city. 

And out in the vast emptiness of the city it was too dangerous to do what needed to be done. 

A warm light. Large white letters in cursive script.

✮⋆˙

Had the flour expired? The lettuce leaves looked strangely shriveled, didn't they? 

She had a feeling she would get fired soon because of the action with the cupcakes, but if not, her voluntary letter of resignation would be typed and sent away faster than she needed to get up in the morning. It was supposed to be a part-time job to finance her studies, a shitty minimum wage job as an untrained bakery employee. She had no idea how to even bake bread, because the last time she tried, she almost lost a tooth. 

But she knew how to get cinnamon buns out of the packaging, or how to make a sandwich with instructions. 

She loved Sundays. 

No one wanted to work on Sundays, which meant much-needed bonuses and an exceptionally quiet shift. Working in customer service was not for the light-hearted.

Yesterday, she tried a new hair styling cream that was supposed to have some kind of magical bonding system in it. Allegedly even Zoey from Huntix used it. Y/N was frustrated with her hair. Wearing it up every day for work and the heat from the dozen ovens didn’t help care for it. So she tried it out.

Only for her hair to end up in a low wispy bun this morning anyway. Work rules and such things. 

Y/N sighed. Luckily it was Sunday. That meant that after her shift ended, she could take home all the left over baked goods that didn’t sell that day. 

She wasn’t poor, she still had her parents sending her a bit of money every month. But she didn’t have a job yet. A real job, not this forced university funding job. A job which she could only apply to with her degree in archeology. 

Everyone has told her she wouldn’t find a job in the field, that only the far more experienced archaeologist experts would be getting booked on excavation sites.  Y/N sighed and dumped the weird smelling flour in the trash can under the front desk. 

She knew they were right. Surviving as an archeologist in South Korea was harder than in the USA or Europe, where she would’ve had better job prospects. 

Pulling out the chair behind the counter, she smiled as she sat on it, straightening her apron. She would find a way to get into an excavation. Do some internships, join a few archeological Facebook groups, and she would surely feel better. Fake it until you make it. 

The bell tinkled, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

✮⋆˙

The air in the small shop soured of cinnamon and sakura room refresher. Jinu scrunched his nose. 

He didn't know when he had pushed the door of the small bakery inwards, when exactly he had entered the small space. A few white wooden chairs stood in two corners of the store, accompanied by equally white round marble tables decorated with lacy white table cloths. Tulips that were starting to wilt, filled various vases in the small space. A warm lamp hanging from the ceiling, inviting dust so sit on it if not cleaned properly.

Demons did not have to eat human food. They could, but it didn’t make them survive. They had the burden of robbing people of their souls, their entire lives, who deserved it the least. People at their lowest point. Homeless people. Desperate teenagers who ran away from home at night because they had long since given up hope of a better life. Jinu wanted to feel sorry for them. On dark days, the only thing that kept him waking up from his dreary sleep was the small flame of hope he protected inside himself for all those years.

But what choice did he have, what choice but to take away the only thing they had left in their miserable lives?

A low hum interrupted the path of his wandering eyes, which scrutinized every detail of the bakery.

He turned around. He was used to people starting to scream, especially women, when they spotted him. When they saw the K-Pop star. When they saw the version of him that millions of people loved. Forced smile, clothes that no grown man would voluntarily wear, happiness basically tattooed on his face. These reactions soothed something inside him. 

On days when he wondered what it was like to be really liked by someone, or even loved... on those days it wasn't quite so bad to think about it. After all, he had fans who loved him, didn't he? Isn't that what counted? With every new fan, he reached thousands of others. One step closer to their goal. 

True love and affection, which did not have to be bought or hypocritized, did not exist. 

But she didn’t scream. She just sat there. He almost didn’t spot her sitting behind the counter, which displayed varieties of tuna sandwiches and some adequate looking baked goods. When she spotted him standing there all still, she quickly put her phone aside and stood up. 

Jinu wanted to chuckle. Now he knew where the sakura scent came from. 

Her hair was tied together behind her head, some fashion strands hanging down her temples. It curled slightly, maybe from the heat of the oven behind her. Maybe it was just her natural hair texture. 

Her lips moved, but he heard nothing. She smelled of cherry blossoms and cinnamon, looked as if the word unhappy was not part of her vocabulary. 

Her fingers touched her necklace, nails embellished with pink nail polish. He had never understood why women painted their nails when hardly anyone would pay attention to such things. 

His eyebrows furrowed. 

They looked beautiful.

"Do you need help?" 

His eyes snapped up.

✮⋆˙

Y/N didn’t believe in angels. 

She didn’t have a hard childhood growing up. She had two married parents and an annoying older sister that moved out from home years ago and barely texted her anymore. While most of her friend’s parents got divorced in high school or throughout college and university, her parents stayed together. Simply out of convenience, or out of love that still lingered in their hearts from all those years ago, Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that kept them together for this long. 

They were busy working all the time, her father an architect that traveled abroad often, and her mom a veterinary nurse. Their marriage worked, but as the years went on, Y/N felt more and more invisible to their love. Their affection barely was enough for themselves, and she as their youngest child became forgotten. When she was younger, she used to curse out the devil for making her parents so successful in life. She didn’t believe in angels or the tale of every person having a guardian angel, because if they really existed, they did a really bad job.

But as she looked up to the customer who entered the small shop, ready to recite her studied standard greeting, she froze. 

He was tall. The smell of rain emitted from him, most likely from wandering outside in the still damp streets. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at her.

He looked at her like she had the answer to all of his life problems, as if she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

His eyes looked mesmerizing. A deep brown, almost black, looked back at her own eyes, captivating her in a trance she was unable to escape. Was this how sirens lured sailors into their deathly embrace?

But he didn’t look evil. He didn’t look like the type of man to hurt you, just to feel malicious. 

She tried to speak, but the words didn’t want to leave her mouth. Her fingers wandered to her necklace, touching the small gemstone pendant hanging on it. It was a nervous habit she picked up during exam phase in high school, her fingers playing with her jewelry as soon as she got the slightest bit anxious. 

She certainly wasn’t in high school anymore, and she definitely didn’t know why she was uneasy, why she suddenly felt conscious about her hair, the stains on her apron, or that she forgot to apply mascara this morning. 

Shaking her head, she forced her fingers to let go of her necklace and instead grip on the marble counter in front of her. 

“Do you need help?” 

The man seemed to snap out of his trance, and shook his head. 

“No, no- I mean yes.”

Y/N crooked her eyebrow and hummed. Out of customers talking to someone on the phone, placing their card on the card reader without telling her they want to pay by card, and customers that complained about the prices, the ones who were unsure what to get were her favorite. 

“Any idea of what you want to get today? A sweet treat or a hearty snack?”

He shook his head. Jinu wasn’t prepared to talk to anyone, less a woman who he didn’t know why his words suddenly turned to thin air when looking at. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the displace of products behind the glass. He was a charming, young superstar, who never had to try to get humans to like him. They just did, annoyance and rejection foreign to him. He knew that that affection wasn’t real, but it was the best available for him at the moment. But this woman was blind to his charm it seemed, indifferent to his looks. 

Y/N wasn’t unfazed. She tried to appear that way, at the very least. Inside of her, she was screaming at how sinfully good he looked. She couldn’t afford to think that way about anyone. Love didn’t last, a curse doomed to dissolve under time. But God, if his eyes didn’t want her to jump into his arms, she didn’t know what do think anymore. 

Humming again, she tapped her foot against the wooden floor of the bakery. 

“Do you like it spicy?”

His head snapped up from where he was previously looking at, pupils widened.

“What?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at his reaction. How couldn’t he understand this simple-

“Oh! No, no, not like that! Oh God-“

Jinu chuckled, her reaction making him feel slightly bad for his uncertainty of what to get. 

“Yeah, I like it spicy.”

Y/N looked at the man who was holding back a laugh, and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Are you making fun of me?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, crossing her arms. 

“No. I mean it. I like spicy food. I don’t look like a liar, do I?”

Y/N shook her head, sighing and pointing to the left side of the food display. She was getting underpaid, and she only got 4 hours of sleep. She didn’t want to argue with anyone, less this sinfully charming Korean Adonis. 

“We have chicken sandwiches with gochujang, grilled garaetteok, or plain chili filled rice balls.”

Jinu pretended to think about which option to choose, but in reality he was just using the time to look at her from underneath his eyelashes. He didn’t know what about her made him curious, it just…felt right to look at her.

He straightened up again and looked at her, really looked at her.

“What is your favorite?”

Truth was, Jinu didn’t know how any of these dishes tasted like. The last time he ate food for enjoyment reasons was 400 years ago, the taste of everything he once loved long forgotten in his trapped mind. He didn’t know how to cook either. His mother always cooked for him and his little sister, refusing to let him do anything besides working hard on his career. He shook his head. Laughter echoed inside his head, the smile of a woman he didn’t recognize haunting his mind. 

Y/N didn’t know what to answer to that. No one cared about her opinion, everyone just expecting her to wrap up their food and give them their change. She put a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head. 

“I don’t have one. I don’t like spicy food at all.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what made you think I would like it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You look like the opposite of me. I don’t like spicy food, so I figured you might like it.”

Jinu looked her up and down. She was wearing faint pink colored jeans, a white blouse and over that her black work apron with a few stains on it. Her pink nails and jewelry only complemented her outfit. She was right.

While she was a star trying to shine, he was a meteor trying not to crash into earth. 

“So what do you like then?”

She pointed to a small brown baked sweet treat with white frosting on top, and dried honey in the shape of a heart draped on it. “This is the only thing in here I made myself. Everything else really is just ripped out of a plastic wrap and put into an oven.”

He nodded, not even looking at the other options. “I’ll take it then, your…” He squinted his eyes and looked down at the lettering in front of the item. “…cinnamon roll.”

Y/N smiled at that. She didn’t know what drew her to him. He looked strangely familiar to her, the level of familiar of someone you met in a dream you only dreamed once. 

She took a pair of tongs and placed the cinnamon roll in a brown paper bag. No one ever bought the cinnamon rolls, too special of a taste and too sweet for most people. That’s why she loved them, and the overwhelming taste of hope that came with them. Hope that she carried within her every day she came to work, every time she cried herself to sleep because of her dream job being unavailable to her. Every morning she would come to work early, just to bake the sweet treat over and over again, in hopes of not taking it home with her again like the last day and the day before that. They were the only thing in this store that she wasn’t happy to be able to take home on Sundays.  

She typed something in the screen of the cash register, the imagine for the cinnamon rolls popping up, and selected it. 

“That would make 7000 won (5$). Cash or card?”

He reached into his back pocket, and placed a crisp ten-thousand won note on the counter.

She was already typing it in the register, when he took his bag from the countertop and just shook his head. 

“Keep the change.” He opened the bag and took a bite out of the roll, eyes widening briefly before looking at her. “It’s worth the money.”

With that, he turned around and exited the store, leaving behind a baffled young lady and way too much change.

Y/N looked down at the note and put it into the till. She took out the change, and carefully dropped it into the tip jar on top of the counter. Employees weren’t allowed to take the tips customers gave them home, instead having to put them in the tip jar to be divided under all employees every week. But since it was Sunday and she would be closing the shop, the jar was all hers.

She dropped on her chair she was sitting on earlier, her arms hanging still beside her. Her head felt like a void, empty and shouting simultaneously. 

The strange feeling inside of her lingered, the premonition of this not being the first time they met. Her mind couldn’t put a finger on where she could possibly know him from, and it killed her. 

She shook her head, and wet a rag before wiping down the countertop. 

She didn’t know he was watching her. 

She didn't know that he now had his eye on her.

Y/N didn’t believe in angels, especially not in guardian angels. 

She just didn't know yet, that she now had her very own, very special, guardian.

𓍯𓂃ᥫ᭡.

Thank you for reading! If you liked reading this little piece of fiction in any sense, I would be more than happy about a like, reblog, or a comment! I absolutely love this movie, and it’s a shame how they ended it. But I’m sure we will get a second part, with the way the last scene teased it. <3

Comment if you would like to be tagged in a potential part 2! Requests for this movie are open ۫ ꣑ৎ

Who wants a preview of part 2? Let me know here! .ᐟ>ᴗ<

Vote what my next fic should be about!

What do you think will happen in ch.3? Vote here!

tag list: @yoihoshi-maki @kristinthegeek @zozoparsnips @mackenzielaw15 @lunaria1 @blobs-away @thaliasnicket @bakugousimpofawif3 @yoongiprongs @franbowidk @lorain07 @jetblackw1ngs @thesimppotato11 @aubreeiscool @ivorria @iamatinydinosaur

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[dollyichi]

THREE PEAS IN A POD . . . husband ! katsuki bakugou featuring your two babies / f ! reader / fluff / the both of you are already parents!

katsuki definitely prides himself in having two beautiful babies and the family you built together.

one girl, one boy (he’s older just a bit), and it’s funny how despite you being the one carrying them for 9 months his genes won in a landslide. however, your baby boy has eyes just like yours!

what you didn’t know, was how much they actually took after their dad. it was beyond their physical attributes.

katsuki finally had a day off and as much as you wanted to skip work that day and spend time with them, the projects just kept piling up that you couldn’t even fake a cold.

he reassures you that he can handle them.

katsuki’s woken up by his two little runts, shaking him in excitement. he’d pretend to sleep for a bit, peeking with one eye open to see them frowning at each other because he’s taking too long to ‘wake up.’ only to sit up and grab them. they squeal in surprise as he pulls them down to his chest, twisting and turning—putting them other the covers, already having so much fun at the start of the day.

after he made them breakfast he wanted to take them out to the mall, spoil them a little bit. they were really well behaved (something you taught them well!) and didn’t fuss even when they missed you. thinking that if they’re sad you’re not here, daddy will get sad too and they wouldn’t want that—today’s supposed to be a happy day!

at the mall he’d get a few compliments and whispers from moms and fans. how they look so much like him, how they even walk like him! it’s really adorable how he made them wear matching outfits, even sunglasses! two mini bakugou’s!

but genetics weren’t the only thing they got from him you see. they visited all types of shops, getting a few things of what they want here and there because katsuki always said to “just get anything you want.” their eyes are so bright and full of excitement. he has to slouch a bit while they’re walking hand in hand, bringing him to every aisle they take an interest in while he follows happily.

still, a phrase would always pop up from one of them. “maybe mommy would like this!” or “should we buy these for mommy too?” and they’d be showing it to him so proudly he’s almost melting. feeling so proud that a part of his love for you transferred onto them as well. they’re absolutely his kids, no doubt about it. ends up getting everything they wanted to get for you.

doesn’t even care if it’s obvious that you’re their favorite. chuckling to himself that the bags he’s carrying is mostly stuff the kids picked out for you. besides, you never asked for anything, but they listen real well, just like their father. “i hope mommy’s happy with all the things we got her!” your daughter says while he helps her with her seatbelt. “she definitely will be.”

and when you get home you see he’s watching them from the couch as they set on their little chairs drawings happily. when they realize you were there all three of then stands up to greet you. and you give each of them a kiss.

when you helped sort out some of their ‘shopping’ you see a this really expensive coat that you were eyeing just a week ago while your little girl slept on your lap (you didn’t know she was peeking from time to time).

you’re so happy you ended up hugging him so tightly, “oh my katsuki, how’d you know?” and he would shake his head with a smile, “i didn’t pick that one babe, she did.”

yeah, they definitely take after him at least eighty percent!

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : papa katsuki cradling his little ones in each of his arms while carrying the bags without the need of a shopping cart… i’d be asking for baby number 3 idk what to name these two ><

spin off — late send with todoroki shouto <3

[rafeplay]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

[livingdxadwriter]

Hands On

Dr Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: when innocent flirting and longing looks turn into hiding in the on call room. Porn with a lil plot

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, little bit of exhibitionism if you squint, fucking in the hospital, he talks her through it, age gap (yk the drill, reader is 35+, robby is 50), established relationship, brief mentions of reader having hair long enough to braid, mentions of Robby being taller

WC: 4.2k

A/N: yay! Finally some more Robby smutties! This was mostly just me being horny and too tired to write convoluted plot. I did get some requests so I’ll work on them as soon as I finish the semester. But for now I wanted to feed yall so you wouldn’t forget me. Enjoy :)

i want to note that this was inspired by this post by @abbotjack so some dialogue bits are inspired by their post. Also thank you to @wittyjasontodd for putting up with my insanity and for encouraging having a quickie with this old man in the middle of a shift <3

This was so agonizing. You didn’t know what demon possessed your soul or why you were so flustered and bothered. All fucking day, from the moment you woke up. In his bed, tangled up underneath his sheets. You didn't know if he was the cuddling type, but you woke up in his arms, on his chest, every time. And this time? You wanted to fucking stay there. All over him. You could feel it, crawling in your skin, perpetually warm even after you shrugged your hoodie off your shoulders like it had offended you. You were hyper aware of his presence at any given moment. If you heard his voice, your head was snapping in that direction. He came in to assist with a patient? You gravitated toward the side he was on to be as close to him as possible. You even got lucky a few times when he was hovering over you, standing behind you to look over your shoulder. It was subtle, always professional, but he would never stand this close to another resident unless he was doing the procedure himself. He could watch from a distance, but he didn’t, because he could tell. 

You were on hour five of your twelve hour shift when you managed to sneak into the doctors lounge to munch on a granola bar and attempt to down your lukewarm coffee. You sat for a collective two minutes when Robby came through the door. Suddenly your pulse spiked and you nearly choked at the sight of him. He was on his phone, typing something, black framed glasses sitting on his pretty nose. Your eye nearly twitched. Why you were having such visceral reactions to seeing your boyfriend today, you didn’t know. You offered him a smile nonetheless, slightly nudging your head at the empty chair next to you. The lounge was empty aside from you, anyway. 

“You hiding?” He shot you a look, a tiny eyebrow raise making you smile a bit. Yes, from you, you thought. You nodded slowly as you chewed on your bar. 

“Maybe.” You mumbled quietly, eyeing him as he leaned back on the chair, casually sliding down it until his knee was touching yours under the table. You jolted the slightest bit, blinking at him, but you otherwise didn’t comment. 

Robby was a very observant man. Call it age, call it wisdom, call it whatever, but it didn’t take him long to be able to read your body language like an open book he read for the sole purpose of his amusement. Your fluttering eyelashes, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, your opposite leg bouncing incessantly. The way you damn near shuddered every time he barely touched you. Whether it was a subtle hand on your lower back when he walked away from assisting with your patient, or your shoulder just barely touching his arm as you talked to him in the hallway. Or how you nearly kneed the table just now. You were aching for something you couldn’t have, and it was driving you to madness. 

“Me too, I saw Gloria in the hallway.” He shuddered, shaking his head aggressively, which made you let out a giggle. God, he loved all your sounds, every one. 

“Want it?” You offered the last bit of your granola bar as you sat in that familiar silence that was often shared between people who had already said everything needed to be said. You sat in silence a lot, you didn’t need to fill it with small talk, but today you were painfully aware of his presence, his warm brown eyes lingering on you every once in a while, his knee touching yours. A subtle act, nothing more than a gesture of affection. But today, god, it would be your breaking point. You quickly realized turning your head to look at him would be a mistake. 

“Uh-huh. Thank you.” He happily and graciously accepted your offering, one hand lifting his glasses off his face and set down on the table as he grabbed your bar with the other. It was the most normal thing he could ever do, he did it all the time, it wasn’t like he wore his glasses for everything. But the simple act as he so unbothered munched on your leftovers made you dig your nails into your palm. “You did really good on that car crash patient, by the way. Readjusting a hip dislocation and a sternum fracture is pretty damn impressive.” 

You nibbled on your bottom lip, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. It always took you aback when he so casually praised you, it always left you a flustered fucking mess. “Mmm, really?” 

“Mhmm, yeah.” He replied, nonchalant. He blinked at you slowly, big brown eyes swallowing you whole. You could hear your breath as he slowly leaned in, stopping when your shoulders touched. 

“Are you gonna kiss me right now?” You dared to ask, which made him slip the tiniest grin. 

“No. But you want me to, don’t you?” He was toying with your sanity, a straight face meeting your fragile demeanor. You knew he would never display such affections so openly where you could be seen. Yes, everyone in the ER was well aware of your relationship, but that didn't mean he would shove it in their faces. But that didn’t mean you didn't  wish he would just grab you by your hair and kiss you silly. “If you want something, you ask for it.”

“You are so evil for that, I hope you know that.” You sighed out, a little unevenly, not amused in the slightest. He let out a dry chuckle, head tilted at you.

“I'm not doing anything.” He shrugged, the slightest bit of amusement lacing his tongue, but his expression remained stoic, probably to tease you even more. You found no humor in this, and you kicked his knee with your own under the table. “Okay, ow.”

You rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to berate him a little about the torture you have been enduring all day and that would continue to endure until you got home because how dare he not stay in bed with you like you begged him to that morning, but just as you were, the door of the lounge opened and Dana peaked her head inside. She shot you a suspicious look, but neither of you said anything. 

“Alright break time’s over. Langdon needs you in trauma one,” she shot Robby a knowing look, to which he simply sighed, choosing not to comment. And then she looked at you, “and you, you can take the auto versus pedestrian that’s coming.” 

So much for your little coffee break. You shot Robby a look that was a reminder that this conversation was not over and he would be hearing from you for the rest of your shift. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

You managed to compose yourself for the most part. Sure, you were a little amped up, a bit hot and bothered, your cheeks were a little flushed and your heart raced every time Robby was in the same room as you, but, you promised yourself you would finish your shift before you actually jumped his bones. And your plan has been working so far.

You were just leaving a patient’s room when you saw Robby, annoyance and a little irritation written all over his face.

“What happened to you?” You chuckled a little as he shot you a pointed look. You definitely noticed that his hoodie was gone and his scrubs were suspiciously a size too small for him. This was definitely not helping your issues today.

“Bleeding ulcer, apparently they failed to mention they had a cough when I was doing the exam. I had to change scrubs and now I have to try and get that blood off my hoodie.” He sighed out a groan, rubbing the back of his hair a little exasperated. You held in your laugh and simply gave him a sympathetic look. 

“I can try to wash it off when we get home.” You offered, knowing he hated throwing away hoodies when they got stained. He shot you a half smile and nodded. But you still couldn't overlook the way the sleeves were tight on his biceps, riding up more than normal, which revealed the slightest bit of his tattoos. And you definitely noticed the way they fit a little too short on his torso. “Couldn't find scrubs your size?”

“No, actually. All they had was medium. And of course, I didn’t bring a fucking spare today.” you could see how this predicament would be quite annoying, you, too, would be annoyed if your scrubs were too tight. But you were definitely enjoying this a little too much. Teasing him back was also a bonus.

“Don’t let Myrna catch you looking like this.” You snorted, bringing the back of your hand to cover your mouth. You had to bite down your lip to muffle your laugh at the glare he shot you. He tilted his head at you, eyes narrowed the slightest bit like he was plotting. 

“Don't start.” He warned you, voice low and leveled. You leaned your chin on your hand and shrugged. 

“No, really, it's a good look. Definitely one way to bring up your patient satisfaction scores. Whore yourself out a little bit. You’re definitely popular among a certain demographic.” You truly wanted to keep a straight face but the way he looked at you the more you teased him made you swallow a bit. Like he was considering whether or not to drag you by your arm somewhere. He found it so rich that you said that, like you weren't damn near fifteen years younger than him.

“Don’t you have patients? There’s plenty of people in the waiting room if you’re bored.” He said blankly, arms folded over his chest. You caught him subtly trying to fix his sleeve on his bicep and your eye nearly twitched, your lips curled up into the tiniest grin.

“Okay fine, Jesus. You're such a grumpy old man. You need a vacation or something.” You gave him one last jab as you started to walk away, but not before he shot you the sharpest glare, his jaw so tight you thought he would dislocate it.

“I swear to g—” you shrugged at him, blowing him a kiss over your shoulder as you all but ran away from his wrath. He chuckled dryly, shaking his head at himself as he plotted just how he was going to get back at you. It didn't take him long to devise a plan. With the one thing you were choosing to tease him about.

You balanced the ipad on one hand as you motioned around different points on the screen with each word you spoke. Mel stood beside you, she helped assist on your auto versus pedestrian case. She was always so sweet, so polite, she didn't mind your racing mouth or your chaotic explanations. 

“There’s a pretty substantial cranial fracture right here,” you pointed at the results from the head CT and X-ray you ordered. Your eyes sometimes wandered as you waited a few seconds for whoever it was you were on a case with to match your racing mind. Your eyes ultimately found your boyfriend sitting at his workstation, glasses sitting on his nose as he typed. Thank the lord you could multitask as well as you could. “I also saw some rib fractures on the left side, we should keep an eye out for pneumothorax and possible hemothorax.” 

Robby always noticed when you entered a room, he wasn't sure what it was, but he always knew where to look for you in a crowd. When he looked up from his computer, he saw you with Mel. You made brief eye contact as you spoke to Mel. it wasn't fully conscious, not entirely malicious, but it did work in his favor, perhaps. 

“What do we look for if there’s a possible pneumothorax?” You knew that she knew perfectly, but Robby always encouraged active teaching. You were listening, you truly were, until your eyes wandered again and you caught a glimpse of Robby stretching. Nothing strange about that, other than the fact that you caught in perfect view the way his scrubs rid up his stomach. You don't think anyone else cared nor noticed, but you went absolutely mental. Catching a glimpse of his thick happy trail was definitely the last straw holding your sanity together.

“Doctor…?” You heard Mel—sweet soul—say your name with a bit of concern. You swallowed a bit, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks and the racing of your stupid heart. You felt like a horny teenager. Is this what it has come to? Getting horny at the sight of your boyfriend's happy trail? Or was it the way he held his arms behind his head, further testing the strength of those scrubs? Fuck. You looked at her and gave her a strained smile. 

“Yeah, perfect. I have to go check on a patient, I’ll come get you in a bit to check on our patient, ‘kay? ‘Kay.”

An hour hadn't gone by when you realized you couldn’t take it anymore. You were hot and bothered, face flushed and warm to the touch. You were thanking the Gods that it seemed to have slowed down for now, nobody was grabbing you to assist on bleeding patients. You were waiting on some lab results. Which gave you even more time to think about how horny you were, as juvenile as it was. You were praying he would have mercy on you. You caught him walking out of a patient’s room, unbothered, blissfully unaware of your torment. Or maybe it was entirely conscious. You didn't know, or frankly, cared. You aggressively typed into your phone. He was pretty quick about answering, he almost never answered immediately.

Come. Here. 

Robby looked up from his phone, searching around the crowds of patients and staff, until his eyes landed on you. He tilted his head at you, curiosity in his eyes. He had the tiniest grin on his lips as he met you in the middle. He read your face with curiosity, amusement, even. Wide-eyes, fluttering eyelashes, bottom lip pulled between your teeth, god you looked a mess and he hadn't even touched you.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He tilted his head at you, leaning down a bit to your level. The pet name was definitely adding insult to injury. He never addressed you by anything other than your name at work. He truly wanted to drive you mad. And he had the audacity to even ask. You oughta beat him up just for that. 

“Shut up, just come.” You spoke in a hush, tone sharp and laced with frustration. You grabbed his wrist without saying another word, making sure that nobody was actually paying attention to what was happening. Robby said nothing as he allowed you to drag him, realizing where you were going where you turned the corner next to the lockers. 

You dragged him inside the empty on-call room. You let out the loudest, most exasperated sigh as soon as he shut the door behind him.

“Do you have any fucking idea the day I’ve had? I just—“ You stopped in the middle of the room, a short breath leaving your heavy chest, your eyes all but pleading. “I just want you, please?”

“Honey,” his voice was low, steady, almost like a warning, with a head tilt as you heard the soft click of the lock. “You know we don’t do that.” Quickies were absolutely not Robby’s thing. A quickie in the ER? Recipe for disaster.

“I know!—” You gritted your teeth at your volume, immediately biting down on your lip. God, you felt so pathetic. Robby met you in the middle, crowding your space, and for a second your brain short circuited at the way he looked down at you. “I know, I just need you right now. I need you inside me and I don’t think I can wait another six hours.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girlfriend anything when she asked so nicely?

“Hmm, yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raspy and baritone in your ear. You were this close to fainting. You felt dizzy, flustered and bothered, all at once. “You’re just needy today, hm?” You completely lost it when he grabbed your jaw, long fingers sprawled across your neck as he forced your head back to meet his lips. The moan that left your throat was so pathetic as he made you back up against the closest wall. 

His mouth just felt so good against yours, almost as good as his free hand finally touching your flushed skin. He didn’t waste any time, much to his dismay, but he had you at home anyway. This was about pure and raw release. He could make love to you in the warm embrace of your own bed, right now, he was okay with just fucking you. 

“You really want it, right here?” He spoke with the slightest bit of amusement laced with anticipation, he knew the answer, but he just wanted to hear it out of your pretty lips. Anticipation sat heavy on your chest, your breath heavy as he slipped his hand into your scrubs.

“Yes, yes, I want you to take me right here, please, please,” shame? You didn't know her. You would do and say anything to get what you so desperately needed. Robby was always so calculated, observant, with everything he did. He watched for your microexpressions, your little sighs and whimpers. They were always so gratifying to him. He took in the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his long fingers brushed your sensitive clit and easily slipped inside you.

“Fuck, you are so wet. Have you been like this all day?” There was a bit of humor in his tone, teasing as he fucked you with his fingers. You bit down on your lip, keeping your noises to a minimum as you bunched up the front of his scrubs around your hand. 

“Michael, please.” Words left you in a halt, breathless as your head fell forward against his chest. You wanted to hide how pathetic you looked, jaw hanging wide open, face flushed and glowing with a thin layer of sweat. But Robby loved looking at you, he loved memorizing the ruined fucking mess he made of you. His free hand found the back of your hair to force you to meet his eyes.

“Look at me just like that,” he wanted to focus you, ground you, remind you that it was him making you feel this way. His fingers left you empty, pulsing and throbbing. 

Out of breath, you watched as he dragged your scrubs down until they pooled by your feet, you unconsciously stepped out of one leg, but your panties were still on. You held your breath in your chest as he slowly pulled the soaked fabric to the side and a groan rumbled in his chest at the sight of your swollen clit and glistening thighs. Oh, that was all for him, and he was going to make good on that. He pulled his throbbing cock out of his scrubs fast, and while still keeping eye contact, you braced for what was about to come your way. Without a word, and still holding your panties to the side, he slides into you in one thrust that has you sliding up the wall. There was no, take it slow, or adjust to it. It was so sudden you gasped so loud you swore whoever walked by heard it.

“Uh-uh, quiet. I need you quiet, baby.” His hand was on your mouth, stifling your sweet little sounds as he drove into you. His other hand found your thigh and he was lifting your knee as high as it could go until only your heel was touching his shoulder. You wanted to fucking scream. “You wanted this, so now you take it, but you take it quietly.” 

His weight was pinning you against the wall as he drilled into you, his hand still covering your mouth. He could hear your little gasps, your high pitched moans each time his cock brushed up that one spot inside your walls that made your thighs shudder. His small sighs of exhaustion were right in your ear, a reminder that he, too, was trying desperately to hold himself together, and was failing by the second. 

“You were just so desperate for it. Wanted this so bad? Hm?” His conceding words were in your ear, raspy and out of breath. Your brain has completely turned off, there wasn't a single thought in that head of yours other than the feeling of his cock filling you exactly how you wanted. Deep strokes that have completely ruined you, broken your mind. Just how he liked it. His hand left your mouth just to make you answer him. “You can use your words.”

“Yes, god, yes, I couldn’t think about anything else.” Your voice was broken, desperate, completely overwhelmed with how good he was making you feel. This was the one thing in this world you didn't have to think about, he thought for you, he could take over and make you forget about the world around you and that drove you mental.

“You just wanted to be fucked like you deserved, trust me I know.” His words were sharp, like the way he drove into you. It wasn’t fast, but it was deep, intense and with purpose. He had no need to run in circles, he knew what he needed to do, and like with everything else he was infuriatingly good at, he did it with purpose. You, fucked. That was it. “I want you to feel me for the rest of your fucking shift. Remember what it feels to be just mine.” 

Just mine, he repeated, like a mantra. A reminder that he had to share you with everyone else in this fucking place. But when it was just the two of you? He could take over every little intricate part of your mind, of your body, all of it was just for him. And you let him. You begged him to. And for that? He would fuck you stupid every single time.

It felt like an eternity, it truly did. Every agonizing minute one closer to being caught or heard. Though you had to admit that only added to your purely animalistic arousal. Your trembling hands grabbed and pulled at whatever you could. You dug your nails into his torso under scrubs with one, holding him each time he rutted his hips against yours. Your forehead was leaning on his collarbone, and he didn't even bother to redirect you this time. You clutched his shoulder like vice and you were sobbing into his scrubs as your orgasm hit you way too soon for your liking. It was absolutely delirious, left you sputtering and absolutely wrecked. You were hoping your sounds didn't pass the door.

“Just like that, breathe through it.” His words only added to your delirium. His voice, his rough hands, his authoritative presence, it fucking wrecked you and you were afraid you would never be able to come back from it. You were ruined and only he could have you now. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me. You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

His words grounded you. His voice. His hands cradling the back of your head as he fucked you through it. And he didn’t stop until he filled you, and when he did, it was with a breathy moan that got lost in your hair. He held you there until he felt your body collapse over his chest. Without saying a word he carried you to the makeshift bed everyone slept on when they were on call. He sat you down, amusement circling in his pretty brown eyes at the sight of you so cock-drunk. You half assed lifted your scrubs up your thighs but stopped when Robby grabbed your hand.

“Let me clean you first at least.” He chuckled quietly, to which you replied with a quiet oh. The neat braid your hair had stayed in for the past six hours was completely fucked, hairs sticking out everywhere. It was a lost cause. He was always so gentle when he cleaned you, so delicate and tender, a true juxtaposition of the predicament that led you here. “Next time? Wait until the end of our shift.” He wasn’t scolding you. It was more of a, we did something we weren't supposed to, tone.

“I know.. I’m sorry, I don’t know what was wrong with me today.” You were a bit sheepish, shifting and grimacing each time he touched you. As your eyes were down, you caught a glimpse of the angry red marks forming just underneath his scrubs. Wide-eyed, you reached to lift his scrubs and winced at the red nail marks that covered his side and stomach. “Ohhh, wow, my nails aren't that long, are they?”

“Uh, yes, yes they are hun.” He replied, mostly unbothered. You should see the ones you left on his back when he didn't have a shirt, he thought. “I hope no one asks.” He finished his thought with an awkward smile and raised eyebrows. “Oh, and by the way, maybe get yourself together before going back out? You looked like you got fucked.”

The next six hours of your life were going to be the longest of your fucking life, for sure.

[musingsofheaven]

SO, ASL? p1

summary: You logged on for fun. Maybe a dumb convo because you fantasized sleep. Definitely not to let some stranger talk you to get wet. But here you are. Logged in. It’s fine. You’re fine. Just casually rubbing one out over a guy you don’t know while whispering “fuck me” into your own hand. But you are just a girl!

pairings: rafe cameron x afab!reader

warnings: 3.6k words. mature themes. sexting format. masturbation (f solo, m implied). orgasm denial/control. explicit sexual language. intense dirty talk. exhibitionism-adjacent. anonymous chat. overstimulation. voice kink (implied). read responsibly.

notes: so this was supposed to be a tiny thing… like a silly idea that maybe stayed under 1k?? like just a little blurb to get out of my system. and then i started writing. and um. yeah. 😵‍💫 i wrote this while ovulating. which explains a lot. like… a lot a lot. and i know it’s kinda cringe (okay like really cringe) but listen… i literally couldn’t stop thinking about touching yourself to someone you’ve never even seen??? like??? that’s so unhinged. and so hot. and so girlcore™. 🥵🫣 anyway this is disgusting and i should be locked in a box but i hope u enjoy 🫶😻

You don’t usually do this.

Maybe you do that when you’re so fucked up, meaning too bored, too awake, too alone, or yeah. P.S. You’re not even really into anonymous chat stuff. But it’s 2:21 a.m., and you’ve been rolling around your bed, taking some melatonin, and even listening to asmr bullshit. Your bed feels shit right now, and your phone is useless because it’s not helping you to fall asleep. Your brain is spinning in that useless, itchy way when you’re overtired but still too wired to sleep.

You have also been scrolling for too long now. Friends are asleep. You don’t have someone to annoy while you’re awake. You’re not ready to read, watch, or do things. Now that you’re on the home page, type in one of those chat sites.

There’s a video chat option, but you chose the anonymous chat instead. Because... why not? Text only. No usernames. No cameras. Just with the thrill of matching with a stranger. Either you’ll match with someone good, or it’ll be mediocre, so skip it. Hit or pass, really.

You’ve just welcomed the typical page stating that you must be 18 or older, etc., rules that people won’t follow. Ultimately, a start button will be available, allowing you to click it.

Connecting you to someone…

You wait for it to load.

Then... there’s this classic: “You are now chatting with a random stranger.”

Stranger is typing...

Stranger: Hey, stupid question but

Stranger: If you have a flavor, what would it be

You blink. Yeah, it’s a fucking stupid question.

Then smiles.

You: That’s what you say to the conversation?

You: Not some typical age and gender?

Stranger: Yeah. But don’t say vanilla. I’ll block u

You: Wow, okay.

You: Hm... mine’s probably like matcha and cherry chapstick

Stranger: Okay slut

You snort. That will likely offend you greatly if you come here in a bad mood or with a bad attitude. But fine, since you’re bored, you’ll try to entertain yourself with this.

You: U?

Stranger: Probably Coke and whiskey

That makes perfect sense because Coke and whiskey are a good combination. It’s not Coke-like drugs, but Coca-Cola.

You: You mean the drink, right...?

Stranger: Right, right.

The conversation flows smoothly and unfolds quickly. It’s really funny and chaotic, honestly.

You talked about random things, mostly stupid things. We even had a fake fight about which pasta was the best. Your answer is carbonara. His is spaghetti. He admits to getting banned from Tinder for making his bio say, “just here to fuck and psychoanalysis how you after sex,” and people thought he was a poser or catfish too. Probably implying to you he looks good. It’s messy, stupid, and weirdly comfortable for two people who don’t know each other’s names.

You check the time. 3:37 a.m.

You: Damn, how are u still here?

Stranger: Insomnia. Boredom. Maybe because you make the conversation interesting

You: Wow. Smooth.

Stranger: I try

Stranger: Can I say something?

You: What something?

You: Do I wanna know?

Stranger: Depends on how lonely you are tonight

Your breath catches. Confused about what he meant. Ah, yes, you also exchanged information, but not in a too-personal manner. There’s a pause. You stare at the message. Like it knows something you don’t.

You: …say it

Stranger: I keep wondering what you taste like when you’re half-asleep and lazy about it

You freeze. It’s not some overreacting freeze; it’s more like staring dumbly at your screen.

You: Wow

Stranger: Too far?

You: A little bit

Stranger: If you wanna end the chat, it’s okay

You stare at the message. Like, really stare at it.

You could close the tab or end it intentionally. Perhaps you can thank me for the weird conversation and return to the part where you try (and fail) to sleep. You could reason out that you’ll do something. Or shut off your phone so you won’t get disconnected. You don’t even know what this guy looks like. You’ve never heard his voice. He could be a serial killer or what.

But you don’t close it.

You type instead.

You: Nah

You: Didn’t expect that ...://

Stranger: What did u expect

Stranger: U typed cherry chapstick like u weren’t tryna start shit earlier

You: Hey, I am genuine with that one

You: And maybe I was bored

Stranger: And now?

You: Still bored. just… warmer

Your heart skips a little after sending it. You don’t know why you admitted that. You know it’s true. You’re not really uncomfortable in the conversation. Honestly, you want to explore it more.

Stranger: Mmm

Stranger: Good

Stranger: Bored and warm’s a nice combo

Stranger: Makes people honest

You type and delete it. On his end, it keeps showing the stranger is typing. You don’t respond right away. You’re biting your lip. Tugging at your shirt. Your thighs press together without meaning to.

Stranger: Hey, cherry chopsticks

Stranger: Still there?

You: Yeah

Stranger: Wanna do something stupid with me?

God. You swallow. Okay, okay, that’s where you will draw the line! You will end it now. You swear. But it’s anonymous. It’s nothing. You’re never gonna meet this guy. You’re just killing time until sleep comes to you.

That’s all it is.

You: Okay

You: How stupid

Stranger: Tell me what you’re wearing

You stare at that message like it’s a trap. If you answer it, something irreversible will happen.

Because you could lie. Maybe lies about some information about what he’s asking. It’s not like he’s going to know. Say you’re wearing something sexy or perhaps lingerie. Just go thirst him more.

You could close the tab.

But you don’t.

You: Ugh

You: Shirt

Stranger: And?

You: Just a shirt and shorts, okay

Stranger: Nothing underneath?

You bite the inside of your cheek. You hate that he guessed that. Maybe it’s too obvious. Most women don’t prefer not to sleep with a bra on.

You: I didn’t plan on chatting with strangers tonight, lol

Stranger: I didn’t plan on jerking off with strangers tonight either, but here we are

You feel your stomach flip. Not in a gross way. Not in a warning way. Just… dizzy. It feels buzzing and hot, that kind.

You: You’re really doing that? haha

Stranger: My hand’s been in my sweats for like 10 mins now

Stranger: You’re hot

Stranger: Even without a face

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s unhinged. It’s... fuck, you never get to that point before when you’re on this site. When they start saying things like this, you’ll end the chat. No one’s ever said it like that. Maybe there is. But not precisely, you encountered it.

You: You’re crazy

Stranger: A little

Stranger: Wanna help me?

You feel your legs shift again, shut them close, rubbing them together a little more. Feel your skin heated. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t be doing this.

But god, you’re so bored. And tired. And warm. And trembling already.

You: Okay

Stranger: Yeah?

You: Yeah

You: Tell me what to do

Stranger: Take the shirt off

You: What if I’m cold lol

Stranger: Bet your nipples are already hard anyway, so it doesn’t matter

Stranger: I wanna picture it

You: You’re fucked up

You: That’s... ugh

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: So, take it off

You do. Fuck. You could just say in the chat that you did it even though you didn’t. But your fingers shake a little. You followed what he said and threw your shirt somewhere in your bed. Your screen lights your bare skin faintly, shadows moving across your chest when you shift. You know he can’t see you. That’s what makes it worse. Or better.

You: Okay, it’s off

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: You are touching yet?

You: No

You: I was waiting for you to say it

Stranger: Good girl

Stranger: Put your fingers in your mouth first

You: ?

Stranger: Wanna imagine how wet you are before you even touch

Stranger: And bet your mouth’s drooling just thinking about it

Your thighs press together again, just trying to get pressure from the tiny movement. You don’t even realize you’re doing it until you read that again and go still.

You: I hate you

Stranger: Do it

You: Did

You: Uhm, fingers...

You: Wet

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: Now rub

You insert your hand underneath your shorts and panties. You did what he instructed you, slowly and lazily, as if your body was being controlled by him. Just barely tracing your clit. It’s not even good yet. You’re just testing the water at this point.

You: Mmm

Stranger: Yeah?

Stranger: Fuck yourself a little

You: 2 fingers

You: Ugh

Stranger: Bet it’s tight

Stranger: Fuck, I wanna ruin you

Stranger: Throat, pussy, whatever you’ll give me

Stranger: I wanna keep you fucked out and dumb all night

Stranger: Ruin you till you forget your own name

Your breath stutters. You press your palm down and try not to moan even though there’s no one around to hear.

You: Say more

You: Pls

You’re hardly able to type. You’re already breathless, hand sliding wetly between your thighs again, screen dimmed just enough to feel this is wrong, like a secret, like you’re not totally exposed. Your pulse jumps as his typing bubble appears.

Stranger: Wanna pin you down

Stranger: Make you gag on my cock while you finger yourself

Stranger: Fuck your throat till you cry

Stranger: And then stuff your cunt so full you can’t even think

Stranger: Going to fuck you raw

Stranger: I’d spit on you and make you say thank you

Stranger: I’d keep going even when you say you can’t

You just stare at his multiple messages as if he knows it’s turning you on reading them. You are probably imagining it already with some faceless man in your head. Your stomach flips. Your legs are already shaking, two fingers deep and dripping. You whimper as you type, back arching off the bed.

You: Fuuuck

Stranger: Yeah?

Stranger: How deep are your fingers right now

Stranger: Tell me

Your eyes move from the phone to your hand as your knuckles and palms glisten. Your inner thighs are sticky, messy, and flushed.

You: Knuckles

You: Palm, maybe

You: I’m fucking wet

You: Pls

You: It’s so messy rn

Your hand’s already so soaked. Your fingers are curled tight inside you, clenching each time you thrust it smoothly and to your liking. You’re making a mess of the sheets, thighs sticky, flushed everywhere. You don’t even want to look down because it’s humiliating how wet you are. How much you need him to keep talking. Humiliating because you're being spoken to in such a manner by a stranger.

Stranger: God, I’d bury my face in it

Stranger: Tongue all over your clit

Stranger: Going to suck your clit and kiss your slit

Stranger: Fuck you with it until you scream

Stranger: Eat you til you sob for it

Stranger: Like it’s the last meal I’ll ever have

You whine, thighs closing together. Trapping your hand between it. You’re already beating and twitching around your fingers just from reading it. You imagine it.  His mouth is hot and open against you, messy and greedy, his grip bruising your hips as he eats you while you’re grinding into his mouth.

Your legs are trembling. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for touch.

And your fingers are still knuckle deep inside your cunt and still thrusting lazily, just enough to get pleasure. So yeah, you’re completely fucked because words shouldn’t do this to you, but you’re so horny, and he needs to scratch the itch.

You: You’re disgusting

Stranger: You like it tho

Stranger: Your pussy’s dripping all over your fingers, rn.

You: No

You: Shut up

You: You’re not even real

You don’t know why you said that. That he’s not real. Maybe because you know after this, you’ll end the chat. Forget him. That this is just one wild bored moment, and you just got horny. But he is. He’s real in your phone and the cause of the slick between your legs. He’s real in how you’re grinding into your hand and trying to get off.

Stranger: I’m hard as fuck rn

Stranger: Stroking slow

Stranger: Rubbing the pre to the tip

Stranger: Thinking about your cunt choking my fingers

Your breath hitch. You’re clenching down around nothing now because you pull out your fingers before sliding wetly back in with your wrist trembling, whole body hot, and legs shaking a little.

You want him here in your bed so bad it fucking makes you almost type if he wants to meet up right now. You don’t even know if you’re in the same state or even the same country. You want his fingers inside you instead. You know it’s longer, thicker, and rougher. You want his knuckles brushing against your clit as he thrusts it in, fuck, how will he sound when he whispers in your ear? His hand is holding your wrist down when you twitch, from how much it’s all too much.

You: I can’t stop

You: It’s so warm

Stranger: Rub your clit

Stranger: Just one finger

Stranger: Go slow

One finger on your clit. Just like he said.

You do. You listen and switch from fingers inside to rubbing your clit. That stupid little part of you that never listens to men like this fuck, you never liked to be told what to do, never talks to men like this. That part of you? She’s gone. She drowned in slick, in the low beating of your own pulse pounding between your thighs.

You whimper, actually whimper out loud while you follow him, legs twitching. Your soaked fingers are still on your clit, and when you circle it over and over, your eyes roll. Your back arches just a little. You’re so far gone, and it’s actually embarrassing and disgusting. Thighs jerking every time his messages pop up. He’s just words on a screen, but fuck... making you get off. It’s so dumb how good it feels. How this stranger, this faceless, nameless boy, has you folding like this.

You’re soaked. You’re dripping. And you’re still not close to done.

Stranger: Still holding it?

Stranger: Be good for me

Shit. Be good for him? Why he’s talking like that. Why he’s praising you. You don’t even answer. You are nod like he can see you. You know he didn’t. You know he’s not here. You bite the edge of your blanket and rub tighter circles, trying to keep your hips from lifting and grinding at it.

You type with one hand, fingers almost slipping, and the phone nearly falling to your face. You can’t even type properly

You: Mmm i cant take jt

You: Pleaseplease csn i cum

You: So vlose

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: Okay

Stranger: Cum for me, baby

Fuck. Then after his permission you come. So hard you choke on it. A sob in your throat, your body folding, shuddering. Your legs are kicking out under the blanket. Hitting it left to right. You can’t even manage to stay still. Your toes are curling, too.

You: Fucfkkk

Your hand’s still between your legs. You’re soaked, your thighs, your fingers still twitching like they still want something. Your chest is panting a little while your eyes are closed and open; you don’t know what to do.

Stranger: That was so hot

Stranger: You still there?

You didn’t reply for a moment and let yourself catch your breath. Thank fuck for your good connection because you’re not disconnecting from this chat while you’re not replying. Your hand’s still gone, but you haven’t moved it yet. There’s heat trapped everywhere, in your neck, in your hips, curling lazy and slick between your thighs like you’re still trembling from it.

Your legs are like a bent spring. Your chest’s rising too fast. The screen’s glowing beside you, still waiting.

You: Did u cum too ...?

You typed out. I didn’t know why you were even concerned about it. For fuck all you know, he’s not really doing anything. But you can’t help but get curious. You imagine him leaning back, spent, his lips parted just a tiny bit, probably still holding his phone in one hand while the other one is sticky, especially in his pal.

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: It got on my screen, lol

You cover your cheek with your blanket, feeling embarrassed by his message. Maybe you’re blushing, not that you notice it. You’ll just disguise it as your body’s reaction to your orgasm.

You: Gross

But you’re smiling, biting the corner of your bottom lip. It’s that dumb smile, even though your fingers are damp and you haven’t moved an inch. There’s something about the fact that he came, too. Perhaps you feel reassured knowing that he enjoyed it too. Somehow. Like, wow, you really did that. From just chatting with him, or probably he’s already too horny, so it’s inevitable. Not that you care much about it.

You: You’re disgusting

Stranger: You liked it

Stranger: Admit it

You: Maybe

You: Shut up

Your thighs flutter again. You roll onto your side, toes tracing the sheets as if they’ll do anything to cool you down.

Stranger: Can’t stop picturing you

Stranger: Bet you looked so fucking pretty cumming

You take a deep breath. You let your fingers away from your cunt and from the slick of your inner thighs. There’s a burning in your ears like it depends on how he messages you, and it’s not even yours anymore. It’s him, somehow. It depends on every line he types and how he describes it.

Fuck. That was disgusting. Do you literally think about that? Boredom will lead you to do things you will not return for. Like this one. Particularly this one, yeah.

You: You’re actually gross

Stranger: And you still didn’t skip

Stranger: An hour ago, you said you were bored

Stranger: Still bored?

You: No lol

You: Kinda feel like I need sleep now

You: Maybe I need to touch myself to fall asleep

He doesn’t reply. Well, at least not quickly, as he always does throughout your conversation. You almost think he left, that it’s over, that he got what he wanted, he cummed, got dirty, and satisfied his horniness like most guys on here do. However, the bubble then pops back up.

Stranger: Hey

Stranger: This is gonna sound dumb, but

Stranger: Wanna exchange socials?

Oh. You blink. Once. Twice. Then again. You just stared at it for a while. Your body’s still high from earlier, flushed and naked under the sheets, and now your heart and stomach are doing that stupid flip thing. Nervous. Overthinking. Fuck.

Stranger: You don’t have to btw

Stranger: But I liked talking to you

Stranger: Not just the… yk

You are still not replying; you are just still biting your lip. Shit. You should end the chat now. You swear that this was it. That’s it. Yeah. Never exchange social media with them, as you always do. The part swears it’s just for fun, just for the night, that gets off and signs out. She’s quiet now. Real quiet. Like she’s mute.

You: Maybe

You: Depends on what ur profile looks like

You: If we’re ugly, I’m blocking u on everything

Stranger: Bold of you to assume I’m not hot

Stranger: I’ll send mine first

You: …fine

You: But if you catfish me, I’m calling the FBI

Stranger: Deal

Stranger: Here’s my IG

Stranger: @rafe.cameron

He drops the username without hesitation. He’s so sure of himself that women will enjoy what they see. They will het flutter if they talk to a stranger who looks like that.

You stare at it. Just wondering if it’s really his or if he just randomly drops someone’s handle. Your fingers hover. You haven’t even typed yours yet.

You: Oh

You: You are so unserious

Stranger: Dead serious, actually

Stranger: Go look

Stranger: I’ll wait

Curiosity wins.

It always does.

Curiosity kills the cat, they say.

You can quickly switch tabs and open Instagram from there. Your brain is still dumb and high off him, of how he talked to you like you were his, like your noises were made for him.

Paste his handle in the search, wait for it to load, and then view his profile. And then...

“Oh fuck,” you whisper to yourself like anyone’s here to hear it. Like anyone could possibly believe this shit. Like you are talking to him.

Jesus. Is this really him?

Like, him him. Tan lines and dark hair. A jaw looks too good, which makes you want to lick it. One too many shirtless mirror pics in his highlights and a follower count that makes your stomach drop.

Rafe Cameron.

You: What the fuck

You: What the actual fuck

You: Ur famous

You: You have many followers

That is him. Right? But you still doubt it, kinda. The guy who made you cum with just his chat. Who called you baby. Who told you how pretty you sounded when you begged.

You scroll. Just once. To check the preview of what his feed will look like. Just enough to feel your thighs press tighter together before you go back to the site to check his profile.

Stranger: Follow me

Stranger: I’ll follow back

Stranger: Don’t act shy now

Stranger: You literally came just talking to me

Stranger: And now you’re embarrassed?

Your cheeks heated. You move under the covers as if it will do shit, like you’re not already wet again, just reading his tone.

You: I didn’t think you were real

You: Like a normal person

You: Not some…

You stop. Don’t even finish the thought. He’s enough to ruin you. Smug enough to know it.

You: I hate you

Stranger: No, you don’t

Stranger: I’ll be in your head for days

He already is. And this shit makes you want to actually talk to him. Maybe you’re more attracted to him now.

You pause. Hesitant for a moment. Then you follow him.

Three seconds later:

@rafe.cameron followed you back

Oh. That’s really him. Shit. That’s really him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  Your stomach flips. Your skin crawls on your body.

Stranger: There we go

Stranger: Night baby

You: Fuck off

You managed to say that before “Stranger has disconnected” shows the screen. You left the site and went to Instagram to stalk him again. You’re smiling. Well, not really. You’re more likely grinning. You’re still heated and wet. Your panties are soaked around one ankle like some whorey medal you are showing. You’re too busy staring at his name.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

It sounded too sexy. His name will probably sound more sexy when you moan it. Your pussy spasms like it remembers every second since his words slid into your head, every word typed out by some cocky stranger that was too full of himself.

You open his profile again.

It’s worse the second time. This time. The tagged photos, the stories, every new picture sends a fresh jolt to your cunt like you’re putting it on an electric socket. Thirst traps on yachts. It’s a beach pic with his hand in some girl’s waist, but it’s just a back photo. Jesus fuck, that mirror selfie. He’s in the bathroom. The towel is so low that it’s showing his v line. Fuck... The body is well-defined but not excessively muscular. Just enough to catch women’s attention.The caption?

@rafe.cameron: Just showered. Missed a spot?

You choke on your spit in your mouth. Literally choke. Your pussy flutters like it knows he meant you.

Your finger twitches, and you tap through the highlights like it’s some boudoir folder, and every image makes your pussy clench harder. His jawline. That golden skin. His hands hang low near his hips like he knows exactly where you want them.

God. You hate him. Hate that he made you come to chat. Hate that he’s so attractive. Hate him. That is concerning to feminists because you want him to fuck you like some whore. Hate that your cunt’s still greedy, still wanting for more, that your hand is already creeping back to your tits as it belongs there.

But it doesn’t stay long there; your hand moves lower in a slow, familiar feeling taking over. Your fingers dip between your legs, tracing the mess he left behind. You’re so wet it’s embarrassing. It’s slippery, soaked, and obscene.

Your thumb circles your clit once. You shiver, and you press harder before rubbing faster. Then, because you’re disgusting and already past the part where you will pretend you’re not sexually attracted,, and horny again, your fingers slide inside like they’ve been waiting forever.

You moan. Soft, shaky, breathless right into the empty room. The stretch around your pussy is perfect, especially since you haven’t touched yourself recently. It feels like you’ve been aching for it. You imagine it’s him. His fingers, long and rough and thick, whispering... Already dripping? Jesus, baby. What’d I do to you?

You grind up into your own hand like a bitch in heat. From the first grind, it’s already slick and more filthier. Your fingers work in the push and pull, in and out, while your thumb rubs your clit just enough, maybe just some flicks. Your phone still glows in your other hand, his face watching you fall apart from that one Instagram post. Smiling, all sun-bleached confidence and a hot body.

It’s like you’re stalking him because of something. Maybe the idea of his picture staring at you excites you. Want him to see this. It is to know how fast you get worked up. That he made you finger yourself with just one sentence and a username.

Your legs start shaking. You’re so fucking close.

That made you zoom in on his pictures. Zooming is the area where you get turned on the most. And shit, every new image makes your pussy clench harder. Made you pump your fingers harder, faster. Made you panting quietly and try to stay quiet.

And when you come? It’s something. Sloppy. A wet rush that makes your fingers slip, and your hips shake and thrust forward repeatedly. You moan into the pillow, biting it, praying no one hears. It’s loud. Ugly. The kind of orgasm that leaves you twitching, gasping, some post-nut clarity.

When you finally stop, you’re limp. A little. Your thighs managed to get tired this time. And your wrist, too. You lie there, still flushed and soaked, panties bunched around your ankle like a trophy. Tits out. Hair matted to your forehead.  Your body slacks with leftover heat. Your fingers are still slick and sticky. Your phone is still open to his account, a disgusting mess of slick thighs and a shameful self.

You don’t chat with him like he expected you to. Well, it’s not that you are expecting him to think that. No. Well, maybe a little.

If you close the app like that, it will help you erase what happened. Like whoever god there didn’t already see you finger yourself hard over some pictures of a stranger you met from that shitty site.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What was that?

Seriously. What the actual fuck was that.

And you stare at the ceiling, half sleepy, flushed, pussy still quivering like it’s got a mind of its own. Chest rising like you just got hit by a truck full of shame.

Your clit’s still throbbing.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, like maybe God’s taking calls tonight.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 1

pt. 2, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: for clarification, reader is 20 years old while sevika is her canon age in this (38-40)

you can check out the fic playlist here.

sevika wasn’t the buddy-buddy type when it came to her neighbors.

as someone who mostly kept to herself, she preferred to be left to her own devices, granted she wasn’t necessarily unapproachable. if you’d knock on her door to borrow some tools, she’d likely lend you hers. have some problems with your plumbing? on a good day, she’d offer to fix it herself.

she’d even attend the annual neighborhood barbecue sometimes, but she wasn’t the type to knock on doors and welcome the new people who had just moved in with freshly baked cookies. that’s something she left vander to do.

so when the vacant house adjacent to hers finally got some new occupants after the previous tenant moved out 3 months ago (a friendly old woman named babette who she would never admit to missing, she and her homemade lasagna she’d offer sevika for dinner) she didn’t think much of it.

but she was curious, so she peeked through her blinds to get a good look at the new tenants, trying to assess what she had to deal with.

when she looked, she was simply greeted by a man who looked to be in his 50s hauling out boxes - slouched posture, flannel button-up, and leather boots. he had the tiredness in his eyes that indicated he was just an everyday samaritan. she was happy about that because she liked her peace.

but before she was about to close her blinds again, a new figure caught her eye. this one younger, miles younger, who sported beaten up doc martens, ripped black shorts that ridden up too high around the rear area that sevika was quick to avert her gaze when she stared too long, and a loose fitted top that was sliced around one shoulder, leaving it exposed.

with painted black nails and eyelids adorned with dark eye shadow, sevika watched as you got out of the front seat of the moving truck and inspected the house in front of you with an intense gaze. before a small smirk made its way to your face, the kind she knew only meant trouble.

“looks great, dad!”

sevika couldn’t believe this.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

it’s not that sevika wasn’t fond of people younger than her.

she was just too old to handle any of their shit. not that being forty-one was geriatric by any means, but she liked her peace, and she couldn’t necessarily have that if she had someone twice younger than her living just down the block. the possibility of house parties being thrown already sending shivers down her spine.

she already had vander’s daughters out of her hair, and even then she heard from him they’re coming back home for their semester break this week so that’s another problem to deal with. you couldn’t be too far from their age range either, probably closer to vander’s eldest, violet. which relieved her in a way.

she hasn’t even spoken to you yet but she dreads the day she’ll ever need to. but it seems as though your father heard her prayers because it didn’t take long after the moving truck drove off when a sudden knock came from her front door, making her raise her eyebrow.

she opened it and just her luck she was greeted by your father, a soft smile on his face as he gave her a gentle wave “hi there, me and my daughter just moved in and I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

sevika gave him a curt nod “I noticed. welcome to the neighborhood.”

again, she wasn’t the type to knock on people’s doors and give them a formal introduction to the whole damn block. the only way she ever got to know people was when word got around about her being the town’s mechanic. she was mostly acquainted with the fathers and uncles, meanwhile the women her age she preferred to sleep with. occasional flings here and there, nothing serious.

the only people she’d consider her friends were vander and silco, and perhaps some of her co-workers back at the mechanic’s shop but they lived elsewhere.

it was hard for her to truly get along with someone, albeit she isn’t opposed to making friends, it’s just something that takes time. she’s a tough cookie.

your father, on the other hand, seemed civil enough. sevika didn’t even notice the container he carried with him until he lifted it “well, my daughter baked some brownies and I thought maybe I’d give you some. wouldn’t hurt to befriend a few folks on the first day, and well, you do live next door.”

she eyed the container while she debated whether to return the gesture or not, and as she thought long and hard about it, she didn’t want to appear like an asshole.

“care for a cup of coffee, then?”

and that’s how she found herself sitting across from your father at her kitchen table, with him sipping his coffee while she chugged her third can of beer of the day.

despite herself, your father was pretty pleasant. thirty minutes of mundane chatting and she’s already gotten to know quite a bit about him - widowed and left to take care of his only daughter, your mother dying while you were only eleven years old. breast cancer. she offered a bit of sympathy which he appreciated.

“never got remarried?” she couldn’t help but ask.

your father laughed softly, shaking his head “no, can’t. when she died a part of me died with her, and I don’t think anybody can truly fill that void. plus I don’t think my daughter would be on board. not that she wouldn’t let me, she never cared but I know she still thinks about her mom a lot.”

sevika let out a hum “I get it. my mom died when I was young too. it never got easier.”

“it doesn’t.” he replied “she’s twenty now. a sophomore in college but sometimes I do feel like she’s clinging onto that part of herself when her mom was still alive. she became a bit rebellious after that. threw herself to drinking at sixteen, I tried to stop her which worked when she finally became eighteen, but her habits still kick in.”

sevika would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for the old man. she didn’t have any kids and quite frankly, has no intention of having any in the near future, but she can only imagine how difficult it’d be to see your child spiral like that and have it be out of your control.

“she’s doing a lot better now?” she asked.

your father nodded, although it seemed a bit uncertain “I think so. she’s on her mid-semester break and will be back by the end of the month.”

sevika sighed internally at that, at least she won’t have to worry about you potentially becoming a problem for too long.

her and your dad conversed a bit more after that - about how he decided to move here because he a got new job in town, and how your college was located two hours away, making him think that your visits would be limited given how you don’t like traveling for long hours (again, another win for her) he also asked her about her prosthetic arm ‘bad car crash. got stuck and had to get it amputated’ she explained and he gave a sympathetic look in return.

soon, she led him up to her front door. it was nearing the evening anyway, but she surprisingly appreciated the company.

“sorry if I took up much of your time, sevika.” your father apologized and she smiled. a genuine one.

“it’s no bother. if you ever need help don’t be afraid to ask.” sevika said and she meant it.

your father offered a grateful nod, walking down her driveway and next door to his house. when sevika looked, there you were waiting for him.

you decided to change into something more comfortable since you arrived. a tight-fitted black tank top with thin straps and grey cotton shorts that exposed your legs to the cold air. you didn’t seem to be wearing a bra either and given the weather, she could notice your nipples poking through the fabric even from where she stood.

sevika shook her head. goddammit . she just made friends with your old man and here she was ogling at his daughter. she wasn’t even supposed to like you.

as your father walked up to your front door he sent her one last wave goodbye, which made you finally look at her.

for that brief moment, your eyes locked. she couldn’t decipher that look on your face when you studied her, arms crossed as you cocked your head to side while your father spoke “she’s our next door neighbor, sweetheart. sevika, meet my daughter!” she only smiled awkwardly while you continued staring at her.

suddenly, that same smirk made its way to your face again, opening your mouth to respond “hi sevika,” you said, your voice sultry and sickeningly sweet. sevika hated that it did something to her.

you didn’t give her time to acknowledge your greeting before you turned on your heel and went back inside, and she didn’t even realize her chest tightened the entire time you two made eye contact until you were finally out of sight, making her breathe normally again.

[v6quewrlds]

NEVER TOO MUCH, CHARLES LECLERC.

pairing⠀⁎⠀charles leclerc x reader. word count⠀⁎⠀4.1k.

summary⠀⁎⠀being apart from charles is difficult enough. being apart from Charles while he's miserable on the other side of the world is worse.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by @xolilyxo! used this as an excuse to practice my french pls don't be mean if it's incorrect lmao <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀none, just grumpy charles & fluff!

Charles was absolutely miserable. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his body felt like it had been wrung out and hung up to dry. The relentless humidity of Singapore had made it impossible for him to get comfortable in his racing suit, and the constant up and down of the weekend was weighing on him. With Ferrari's recent momentum over the last few races, he came into Singapore hoping for a podium, maybe even a win. But so far, everything had gone wrong.

The car was not responding as expected, and he was lagging behind the other drivers. Each corner was a battle, each straight a struggle. His mind raced faster than his car, thinking of what he could've done differently, what setup changes could be made, and how he would explain his performance to the press that was inevitably eager to rip him to shreds.

To make matters worse, you, his girlfriend, weren't there to offer her usual comfort and support. He'd been looking forward to seeing your smiling face in the stands, cheering him on, but your work commitments had held you back. The two of you had talked briefly over FaceTime, your gentle voice a balm to his frayed nerves, but it wasn't the same as having you there, your hand in his, your belief in him, carrying him through the toughest moments. Even as everything seemed to fall apart, you remained steadfast with your encouragement, reminding him of his strengths, and assuring him that you knew he could turn it around.

He was aware his team wasn't having a good time in Singapore either; mostly due to his mood. The mechanics worked tirelessly, sweat dripping from their faces as they tried to figure out the issues with the car. His engineers were equally as stressed, poring over data, trying to find that elusive solution. Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, though he couldn't find it in himself to care. He knew he was being a nightmare to deal with, but he couldn't help it. The pressure was crushing him, and he didn't have access to the valve to relieve it.

You cursed under your breath, your eyes glued to your phone screen, propped up by a stack of binders and papers. You had previously promised yourself you'd just watch a few moments of Free Practice 2, just enough to get an idea of how Charles was doing, then you'd get right back to work, but you hadn't been able to tear yourself away. You saw him fighting the car, the frustration in his voice echoing through your headphones whenever the broadcast allowed a snippet of his comms. The crash was sudden, jolting you out of your chair. Your heart plummeted as the screen showed the wreckage of the #16 Ferrari. You felt cold despite the warmth of your cardigan.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw Charles climb out, visibly fuming but uninjured. You released a sigh of relief, your hand flying to your chest as if to keep your racing heart in place. That's when the idea struck you, a wild, slightly mad idea, but it grew roots in your mind. You had to go to him, you had to be there. If you could get all your work done tonight, maybe you'd be able to make it to Singapore in time for qualifying. Without a second thought, you began typing away on your laptop. You could sleep on the plane, you'd do anything to be by his side.

Your fingers flew over the keys, sending emails, finishing up reports, and delegating tasks to your colleagues. The office grew quiet as the hours ticked by, and the last few lights started to dim as your coworkers called it a night. But not you. You were fueled by adrenaline and love, your eyes never leaving your screen except for brief glances at the clock. The minutes turned to hours, and the glow of your laptop cast the only light in the otherwise darkened room.

Finally, with a click of the send button, you leaned back in your chair, the tension draining from your body. You had done it. Now, you had to pack. You created a checklist in your mind as you made the drive to your apartment. Quickly, you showered and changed into comfortable travel clothes. You packed your luggage, selecting only the most important items, knowing you'd need to be efficient with your carry-on.

At the airport, you checked your phone for any updates from Charles. There were two new messages.

Today was shit. But thank you for asking. Two days left in this nightmare.

I can't wait to be home, mon amour. Your voice notes are the only thing keeping me from going crazy.

The text from Charles was heart-wrenching, his misery clear even through the screen, and it was all the motivation you needed to keep moving. You checked in your luggage, boarded your flight, and hoped for the best. The hours passed slowly, a mix of movies, snacks, and the occasional nod off into fitful sleep. You dreamed of his arms around you, of whispered encouragements, and, oddly, the smell of burning rubber and gasoline that always lingered around him after a day on the track.

When the plane finally touched down in Singapore, the early morning light was already harsh. You made your way through the airport, adrenaline pushing back the weariness that threatened to consume you. The threat of being photographed at the track was your only incentive to change into a more presentable dress. The open-back maxi-length burgundy material of your summer dress clung to your torso, its square neck making room for the delicately stacked necklaces you had chosen before flowing into a loose skirt with crisscrossing detail across your back. Your hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, your makeup minimal but just enough to hide the dark circles under your eyes.

You grabbed your phone, checking the time again. You had to hurry. The hospitality suite was your first destination, the secret mission making your heart race. The walk to the track from the hotel was a blur of excitement and nerves. The buzz of activity grew louder as you approached the paddock, the sound of engines revving in the background like a symphony of power. You spotted Mia, Charles' press officer, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Ah, you! Charles said you couldn't make it!" exclaimed Mia when she saw you, her eyes lighting up with surprise and relief. You exchanged kisses to the cheeks, a familiar greeting, and Mia's smile grew wider as she took in the sight of the woman who singularly had the power to turn their weekend around.

"I wasn't supposed to. He doesn't know I'm here," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with excitement. You watched as Mia's expression shifted from surprise to pure glee. "But I had to come. Every time I've spoken to him, he's sounded so… miserable. How is he today? Did he manage to get some rest last night?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "He's been a nightmare. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't snapped anyone's head off yet," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, he needs you. He's been so hard on himself, and his mood has been affecting everyone." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "I'll make sure to keep your secret until he can see you. He should be in the private area until it comes time to prepare quali strategy."

With a nod of thanks, you made your way through the bustling paddock, your sandals clicking on the pavement as you tried to stay calm. You felt like a spy on a mission, your heart racing every time you heard someone speak French in passing. Finally, you reached the Ferrari hospitality suite and slipped in unnoticed. You caught your reflection in a mirror and took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress and running your fingers over your hair to make sure everything was in place. This was it.

He stood in Ferrari merch, the muscles in his back tense as his voice carried through the suite. He was speaking in rapid French, his gestures animated. You knew that tone in his voice, knew that he was venting his frustration. You took a moment to appreciate him from afar, the way his rosso corsa polo clung to his broad shoulders and the way his thick, messy brown hair stuck up in all directions as a result of the humidity. His back was turned to you, and you took a step closer, your heels clicking softly on the tiles.

Fred stood in front of his driver, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded solemnly, listening to Charles' concerns. As you approached, you could just make out the dark circles under Fred's eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights they had all endured. The scent of engine oil and rubber filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of espresso that seemed to follow the team wherever they went.

The Frenchman's eyebrows rose as he took in the sight of you approaching his driver quietly. You lifted your index finger to your lips, signaling him to keep the surprise. He nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips, and backed away slightly to give you a moment of privacy.

Charles continued ranting, oblivious to the soft footsteps approaching from behind. The heat and stress had painted a picture of a man on the edge, his body language shouting his dissatisfaction. Finally, you were close enough. You reached out, your hand pressing gently against his back, between his shoulder blades.

"Cha, tu as besoin d'un verre d'eau?" you asked sweetly, the French words leaving your glossed lips imperfectly but with enough charm to melt through Charles' frustration.

"Non, merci, je suis bon," Charles responded without looking up from his conversation with Fred, his voice clipped and frustrated.

He opened his mouth to continue speaking but was cut off as the realization of who had just spoken to him hit him. His body stiffened and he spun around, his eyes widening when he saw you standing there. For a brief moment, the chaos of the garage, the weight of his performance woes, and the oppressive heat of Singapore all faded away. He was simply stunned.

He exclaimed your name, his voice cracking with a mix of surprise and relief. He stepped toward you, and you met him halfway, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him softly. His arms tightened around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground, and the tension drained from his body as he returned the kiss with desperate passion.

You laughed as he finally set you down, the sound music to his ears. "You really weren't expecting me?" you said, your eyes sparkling.

"I had no idea," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "But you were right, I could use some water." He cupped your face in his hands, giving you one last kiss before breaking away. "Je suis tellement content que tu sois ici," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek as he voiced his appreciation for your surprise.

Fred clapped his hands together, joy erupting from his eyes. "Well, it looks like you will be busy until the strategy meeting," he said with a knowing smile before giving you a nod of approval. "Deux heures, Charles," he reminded him of the time left until the team's pre-qualifying meeting as he walked away, leaving you and Charles in the quiet corner of the hospitality suite.

"How did you manage this?" Charles asked, still in disbelief, pulling you into a hug that felt like home.

You chuckled against his chest. "An all-nighter and a very early flight," you replied, your voice muffled by the fabric of his Ferrari polo. You stepped back, your hands sliding over his shoulders as his hands found your waist. "But it was worth it to see your face."

"I can't believe you're here," Charles said, his eyes searching yours. He leaned in for another kiss, the kind that made your toes curl, and you responded with all the love you’d been saving up over your week apart.

"I missed you," you murmured, your cheek against his. "I know this weekend has been hell for you. I had to come be with you."

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. "Merci, mon cœur. It means the world to me." He pulled back to look into your eyes, his verdant gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and love. "Would you like my room key? I can take you to the suite; you can rest a bit."

"I'm fine," you assured him, your smile genuine and soothing. "I've had plenty of coffee. I'd rather spend every minute with you before you go out there."

You sat together in the suite, the air-conditioning bringing relief from the sticky, heavy Singaporean heat outside. The TV screens around you were muted, displaying the endless loops of yesterday's spins and today's qualifying preparations. Charles pulled your legs into his lap, his strong hands rubbing the tension from your calves as he talked about the car, his voice revealing a mix of frustration and dedication. You listened intently, nodding here and there, your fingers playing with the brown locks at the nape of his neck. You peppered kisses between sentences, the tension in his shoulders dissipating like fog in the morning sun.

"I've been so hard on myself," he said, his voice dropping. "I'm trying to remain positive, but it's tough when everything feels like it's going wrong."

You leaned in, your hand reaching to cradle his cheek. "You're going to be okay," you whispered. "You always find a way to learn from the tough moments. This is just another chance to show everyone how strong you are."

Your words seemed to have a calming effect on him, his breaths evening out as he nodded slowly. "Merci, mon amour," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for being here, for believing in me."

The time for the strategy meeting grew closer, and the air in the suite grew tenser. Charles checked his watch for the umpteenth time. "I should go," he said reluctantly, his thumb stroking your hand. "But I'll see you after qualifying?"

"Of course, my love," you replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be watching from the garage."

You watched as Charles reluctantly pulled away, shifting into the right mindset as he walked toward his team. A warmth spread through your chest, knowing that you'd managed to brighten his day, if only for a brief moment. The garage was a hive of activity as you made your way there. The Ferrari mechanics and engineers moved with a fluid grace, each one a master of their craft, working tirelessly to ensure the cars were ready for the battle that was qualifying. You were greeted by surprised and grateful nods from the team members as you took your place in the garage, a headset handed to you to listen in on the conversations between Charles and his engineers.

The air grew thick with tension as qualifying approached, the hum of the engines increasing in volume and intensity. The lights above the pit lane switched to green, and one by one, the cars began to roll out onto the track. Through the headset, you heard Charles' calm voice as he communicated with his team, the words in Italian and English a reassuring presence in your ears. Each lap was a dance between man and machine, a dance you had become all too familiar with but that never ceased to amaze you. Your heart was in your throat as you watched the screens, your eyes flicking between the timing boards and the live feed of the cars streaking around the floodlit circuit.

As the minutes ticked away, you could feel the pressure building in the garage. The air was electric with anticipation and nerves. The engineers called out to each other in hushed tones, making last-minute adjustments to the car. The tire changers stood at the ready, poised like sprinters waiting for the gun. The sound of the cars grew louder, and you knew that meant Charles was approaching for his flying lap. The garage went quiet, all eyes glued to the screens.

The first set of qualifying rounds went by in a blur. Each time Charles managed to pull off a clean lap, the garage erupted into cheers and sighs of relief. The tension grew tauter as the final round approached, with the top ten drivers fighting for the pole position. Your eyes never left the screens, your nails digging into her palms as you watched your love push the car to its limits. Your lips parted in a whispered prayer, hoping that the mechanical gremlins that had plagued him all weekend would finally leave him alone.

The final minutes of qualifying were upon them, and the air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and anticipation. The Ferrari engines screamed as the drivers took their final laps. Your heart raced in time with the cars, your eyes flicking between the clock and the positioning of Charles' car. Each time he flew past the pit lane, the mechanics held their breath, waiting for the next set of times to flash across the screens.

And then it was his final chance. The tension in the garage was palpable as Charles roared out of the pit and onto the track. His tires squealed in protest as he pushed the car through the first few turns. His voice remained calm, almost serene, as he communicated with his engineer over the radio. The headset pressed against your ears, you heard every gear change, every sigh of the engine, as if you were in the car with him.

Your eyes darted from screen to screen, tracking his progress. The car looked stable, the lines he took precise and aggressive. Your heart thumped in your chest, each beat echoing the rhythm of his tires on the asphalt. The seconds ticked away, the air in the garage thick with hope and anticipation. The crowd's roar grew louder as the cars approached the final sector.

"Come on, baby," you murmured under your breath, willing him to find that extra tenth of a second. The screens tracked his car as it approached the line, and the garage held their collective breath. The time flashed up: P3. Third on the grid.

Your heart soared, and you let out a cheer of victory that was echoed around the garage. The tension broke like a dam, and the team erupted into cheers and applause. Charles thanked Bryan, his engineer, over the radio, his voice tight with relief. He had done it. He had pushed through the pressure and the exhaustion to give them a fighting chance for the race tomorrow.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to find Mia grinning at you. "Looks like your surprise was the good luck charm we needed," she said with a wink as she reciprocated the hug. "He's been a different man since you arrived."

The qualifying session concluded with a flurry of activity. Drivers were debriefing, cars were being serviced, and the garage was buzzing with the aftermath of adrenaline. Through the chaos, Charles seemed lighter in the press pen and during the top qualifiers press conference. His smile was more genuine, his words less clipped and frustrated. When he finally returned to the garage, his eyes searched for yours and held them for a beat longer than usual. The connection was a silent acknowledgment that your presence had made a difference.

"A domani," Charles called out, his smile reaching his eyes for the first time in days as he waved to the Ferrari hospitality staff. His left hand found the handle of your suitcase, his other arm around your shoulders, his fingers tangling with yours. The short walk to the Ritz Carlton was filled with chatter about the qualifying session, his voice animated with excitement and relief. The tension of the day had melted away, and in its place was the man you knew and loved.

The hotel room was cool and serene, polar opposite to the temperature of the track. You watched him as he tossed his phone and wallet onto the dresser. He stepped closer, his hand reaching for your face, his thumb brushing away the hint of sweat on your cheek. His eyes searched yours, a silent question of how you were feeling. You gave him a tired smile, the kind that said you had missed him more than words could convey. You stood there for a moment, just breathing each other in, before he pulled you closer and kissed you deeply, the stress of the day dissipating in the warmth of your mouth.

You softly urged him to shower while you handled the ordering of room service. As the water ran in the bathroom, you called down to the hotel's restaurant. You ordered your favorites, a mix of Italian and local dishes you had discovered during previous trips to the city-state. While waiting for the food, you slipped into the adjoining bathroom, your eyes scanning over his open suitcase, the disarray of his clothes mirroring the chaos of his weekend so far.

The water stopped, and you could hear the rustling of the shower curtain as he stepped out. You took a deep breath, the anticipation building as you listened to the patter of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. He emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked at you, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Tu m'as manqué, ma belle," he murmured, pulling you into his arms and kissing you as if he hadn't seen you in months.

Your cheeks flushed as his hands roamed over your body, his touch setting your skin alight. You melted into his embrace, his warmth seeping into your bones, chasing away the fatigue from your surprise trip. His kisses grew more insistent, trailing down your neck and across your collarbone.

"Cha," you laughed. "I've missed you too. But it's getting late, and you need to eat before you crash." You playfully pushed him away and gestured toward the bed where the room service tray had been set.

You left him to change as you slipped into the bathroom for your own shower. The cool spray washed away the grime of the flight and the stickiness of the track, and you felt rejuvenated as you stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself. When you emerged, the room was filled with the mouthwatering aromas of your dinner.

You sat side by side on the bed, your plates balanced on your laps, as you picked at your food, sharing bites and stories from your week apart. You talked about everything and nothing, the mundane and the monumental, filling in the gaps of your time together. Each bite of food brought a new smile to Charles' face, his appetite returning with the comfort of your company.

He continued to ramble as his head found your chest, the sound of his voice a comforting background to the quiet symphony of the city outside your hotel window. His words grew slower as he drifted off to sleep, and you listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the weight of his head against you.

"I still can't believe you're here," Charles murmured against your skin, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through your very soul. "It means so much to me."

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. "I was so worried about you," you whispered. "I had to be here."

"Apparently, you being here is the best thing that's happened to me all weekend," Charles laughed, his eyes fluttering open briefly to look at you before closing again. "Et demain, on gagne," he declared his desire for victory with a yawn, his accent thick and sleepy.

You smiled, your fingers scratching his jaw gently. "Demain, on gagne," you echoed, your voice filled with the belief that together you could conquer the world.

"I wish it wasn't so hard," Charles mumbled into your chest, his eyes still closed. "The distance, the schedule. It's killing me."

Your heart squeezed. "I know, my love. But all the sacrifice, all the flights, all the time apart, all of it is worth it for moments like these." You kissed his forehead, feeling his warmth, his closeness. "I'm so proud of you for pushing through. You're gonna kick some McLaren ass tomorrow."

He chuckled sleepily, the sound reverberating against your chest. "I'll do my best."

[awrkive]

Idk I must have some problems I need to talk about with my therapist, but I NEED the #3 lmao

summary: jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.

w/c: 3.5k

note: aurkayyyy general consensus says write # 3 and that post got 40 likes idk so here it is ig.. unedited cos its 3am but also i tried my very best awrkive nation 😞💔 under the cut cos its long asf for a drabble crying

People always gravitate to you. You have this sort of unbreakable and contagious energy around you that just pulls people right into your orb – your classmates in middle school through college, your cousins, even the cashiers at the cafes you like visiting downtown every here and there. 

And it is why Jeon Jungkook from your Environmental Science class baffles you. Because while everybody in the lecture hall – even prof Nam – likes to give you a smile or even just a nod of acknowledgement when you walk in, he does the total opposite and will just do about anything to avoid you. 

It had been during the first week of the term when you realized this fact. When Jungkook seemed to have abhorred the idea of sitting next to you because somebody had “stolen” his seat. 

Of course he knew the fact that you technically could not “steal” a seat in college – there are no such things as assigned seats in college, after all – so you had kindly offered the empty chair beside you, then, but he just looked at you with his knitted brows, like he couldn’t believe you had asked him that in the first place. 

In the end, he chose the free seat at the back of the hall – even though as far as you know him, he’s the type to like sitting in the front rows to engage with the class better. 

However, that did not deter you from trying to befriend him. In fact, it just made you want to get closer to him more. 

You like Jeon Jungkook. Not romantically, of course! You just like the fact that he is extremely smart and listen, he seems nice. The girls always have something good to say about him, and he’s friends with one of your closest friends, Namjoon – whose judgment you trust most of all. He’s acquainted with most of the people you know and you’ve seen him interact with others – he’s charming and doesn’t exactly look broody and uninterested when he’s with them. 

So when Prof Nam partnered you both in a presentation for your final requirement for the term, you were over the moon to have been given the opportunity. 

“__,” Jungkook calls, but you’re way too busy admiring the strands of his hair that had now been dyed to gold – a contrast to his previously dark brown locks. It’s mostly hidden from the beanie he’s wearing. Something you’ve noticed he’s been wearing a lot these days even though it’s not that cold. 

You think it’s because he’s not too keen on getting attention for his newly dyed hair.

Jungkook calls your name one more time, and this time it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Hm?” You look up, blinking at him – only to be met with his knitted brows again. At that all too familiar look by now, you frown slightly, knowing the tell-tale signs of his annoyance. 

“I’ve been asking you about biofuels for the past two minutes.” 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen for a bit, quickly looking at your iPad. “Uhm… it’s here…” you slide your device over to his direction and he’s quick to read over your work. With him seated beside you, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and you don’t even think it’s cologne in the first place. It just seems like his natural smell – like fresh laundry. Downy or something. 

Ever since you started working on the project, you’ve been going to cafes and the library to work on it – for at least an hour – and you’re starting to get accustomed to everything Jeon Jungkook. He’s smart – and that’s a given – but he also smells really good; that’s what you noted specifically.

But most importantly, he’s dyed his mid-length hair blonde. And he looks different but somehow… really handsome. With his prescription glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, you just can’t help but to look. 

“Where is your citation for this?” He says, pointing to a certain part of your work. 

At that, you grow anxious. Jungkook’s really serious about his academics. And even though he looks distracting with his blonde hair right now, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. 

You’re not dumb or something! You’ve survived three years of college just fine – you’re just not the likes of him, or Namjoon, for that matter. But you do well for yourself. 

But Jungkook, reading over your work with furrowed brows, you can’t help but second-guess yourself.

Especially when the next thing you can say is just, “Oh, uhm… I thought citations would only be after every four sentences?” 

“Did you not read the instructions?” Jungkook says. It’s not harsh but there’s a certain lilt to it. A bit pointed that you visibly recoil. As if noticing you do that, Jungkook clears his throat and looks right back to your iPad. With a tone that considerably sounds gentler to you this time, he says, “You should put a citation every three sentences.” 

“Okay…” You say. You look at Jungkook and you give him a tight-lipped smile when he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

His gaze lasts longer than necessary – he almost always doesn’t really look at you but this time he does, and just when you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he peels his eyes away from you and turns to his computer, not saying anything. 

You sulk in your seat, revising your paper while Jungkook acts like a stranger beside you again. 

“Kook…” you say after awhile. You watch as Jungkook visibly stills at the nickname. Nonetheless, he hums, but he doesn’t stray his eyes from his laptop. “I really like your hair.” 

Nothing. 

“Kookie…” This time, you poke at the material of his purple hoodie. “I said I like your hair.” 

He doesn’t budge. 

When you make a move to poke him again, he finally says, “I heard that.” 

You turn back to your google doc with a pout. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting from him. A thank you, maybe? But that would be unlikely for him to say to you. He’s just always so quiet around you. Annoyed, irritated—

“Thank you.” 

At first you don’t quite catch it, but you kind of got the gist. Unbelieving, you turn to him with a confused look. “What?” 

“Isaidthankyou.” 

But it was spoken so fast that you just grew more puzzled. 

“What…?” 

“Nevermind.” He says, hacking away on his laptop again. 

You pout the whole time writing your paper. 

———

You’re just about to approach Jungkook to talk about your recent development for your project when somebody beats you to it first. 

It’s Han Hyorin from the same class. You made friends with her from another minor you’ve had in the previous semester and she was a really nice woman – sort of similar to you. A big ball of sunshine, all smiles and cheerful and full of energy. It’s why you clicked instantly a few months ago. 

But that’s also why it surprises you when you see her talking animatedly with Jungkook and him listening to her attentively – smiling and laughing. 

Certainly not his vibe when you’re the one in conversation with him. 

Listen, you’ve been so accustomed to his behavior to you all this time that you just don’t mind it now. But for the record, you just thought that maybe – he just can’t quite level up to your energy. You’re too bubbly and he’s too… calm. And you get that! You certainly don’t hold it against him. 

But as he catches a glimpse of you his mood turns completely different, no longer smiling ear to ear. It makes Hyorin stop speaking, turning her body to look at your direction as well. 

“Oh, hi __!” She greets, grinning. “I was just talking to Jungkook here.” 

“Hi, Hyorin.” You wave at her, mirroring her smile. You walk towards them, hugging your iPad tight to your chest. “Hi, Jungkook.” 

He just sends you a timid smile. 

Weirdly enough, it makes your heart twinge. 

“Anyway, are you two gonna work on your project? Sorry for keeping him up, if that’s the case. I’ll be off then.” Hyorin says as she picks up her bag. She looks at Jungkook once again, saying, “I’ll send the link to you later, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook only nods before Hyorin walks out of the lecture hall.

You watch her disappearing back before you turn to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.” 

He shrugs. “We talk sometimes.” 

“Ah.” You nod. 

“Anyway, you got my text, right? Hoseok said it’s too crowded at 556 right now. And my laptop’s dead so I can’t use it either. Left my charger at my place,” he says, starting to put his stuff in his backpack. 

“Yeah, I got it,” you say, stepping out a bit to let him out of his row. You follow beside him when he begins to walk. “Well, where should we do the project?” 

You see Jungkook wince. “I have no choice but do you mind if I just suggest my place? I have a roommate but he’s not around this time. Or we can just call it off for today and resched.” 

You blink at him. “Your place?” 

He arches a brow. “Yeah. Is it okay? Do you have something else in mind?” 

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s just a three minute walk from the campus. Do you mind?” 

“Nope.” 

“Alright, then.” 

——— 

Jungkook thinks you’re strange today. 

You’re usually so full of stories. Never ran out of things to say. His silence never deterred you from sharing something and even though Jungkook would deny it to you and to all his friends – he actually secretly enjoys your blabbering. Finds most of them funny.

But right now, you’re all quiet on your iPad and notes, focused on doing your work. The last thing he’s heard you say something was when you commented earlier, “This is a nice place,” when you stepped inside the threshold of his and Taehyung’s apartment.

No comment about his hair. Or his hoodie. Or the stupid occasional, “You look handsome today.” that makes his heart perform backflips against his ribcage and makes him all nervous that he can’t really look straight into your eyes for the rest of your interaction.

He finds it strange that he finds you strange today. He should be… happy about this right? He always tells his friends that you’re too… loud when they ask why he doesn’t seem to like you. For the record, he does not not like you. Jungkook just thinks you’re too much. 

Or that you make him feel too much it drives him insane.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the ice after a few minutes. He couldn’t help it. This isn’t like you at all. At this point, you should have already told him twenty different stories that includes your breakfast and the bird that keeps knocking on your window every 5am. By this time, you should have already asked him if he likes your outfit or some stupid shit like if he likes your nails. 

For the record, he likes all of them. Your blush pink nails and your pink skirt that stops above your thigh, exposing your smooth thighs that Jungkook always berates himself not to look at. You always wear skirts. He hates them. 

He hates that he doesn't really hate them. At all. 

“Huh?” You turn to look at him, blinking. Meek and pouty and puzzled. You look so cute it confuses the hell out of him. 

“I asked if you’re okay.” Jungkook says, leveling his voice. Lest he gives himself away. What would he give away, though? That he’s weirdly worried about your silence? That he’s starting to think maybe you’re getting fed up with his constant avoidance of you and you’re starting to realize he’s a shit person and he doesn’t deserve any of your time? 

That he’s putting way too much meaning into this? 

And what for? 

“Oh,” you utter. A bit taken aback. You nibble on your bottom lip and Jungkook tries hard not to focus too much on the way your gloss makes them look so plump. You had pretty lips. Jungkook’s not that prideful to admit that. Just to himself, though. “Yeah. I am fine. Why do you ask?” 

He clears his throat. “Nothing.” 

You look at him with furrowed brows but don’t really say anything further. “Okay.” 

When you go back to working in silence simultaneously again, Jungkook finds himself not being able to focus on the words of the journal article he’s reading. There’s a sentence to it he’s been going right over and over again. Everytime he reads it, it’s like the point just crosses right over his head and his efficacy in the language degrades every single time he repeats it internally.

All the while, you’re still quiet. 

And Jungkook’s had enough. 

Why weren't you saying anything? 

“__.” 

“Hm?” When you tilt your head to look at him, Jungkook nearly falls over his bed. You’re across the room on his computer desk while he’s on the mattress. 

God, you are so unbelievably beautiful without trying it makes his head ache. 

“Are you –uh. What’s with you today?” He finally asks. He watches as your face contorts into an expression of confusion once again, which he can’t really blame you for feeling the way. 

“What’s with me today?” 

“You’re just…” he tries to find the right words. “Quiet.” 

You don’t say anything for a while that Jungkook was about to take his words back. 

“Oh… I’m just not feeling well today, I think.” 

His brows furrowed. You looked perfectly fine today. You were your usual sunshine shelf when you stepped in class – all big grins and pretty laugh Seo Jihyun as usual was trying too hard to get your attention beside you all day. 

“Really?” He asks. “Do you need something?” 

It takes you by surprise. But you recover fast. “No, it’s fine.” 

“We don’t have to do this today if you’re feeling under the weather.” 

You laugh. And Jungkook thinks that’s a win. He thought he wasn’t getting any of that for today. 

“It’s fine, thank you, Jeon.”

Jeon?! Jeon, like his surname? 

He chooses to ignore that. But then a few minutes passed and he spoke again. God, he couldn’t stand any of this.

“How’s the bird?” 

“The bird?” You parrot back. 

“The bird at your window.” 

“Oh!” A flash of recognition goes through your face. “That. Well – as usual it knocked on my window again.” you giggle and it’s the first time Jungkook feels a little light ever since you entered his place. 

Good. This is good. 

“I didn’t know you’d remember that.” You say, giving him a small smile. 

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning so he had to look away. “You tell me about it everyday.” 

There’s a pout he can feel you’re sporting when you say, “But I thought you don’t care.” 

Jungkook frowns at that. 

But he realizes… he gets it. He doesn’t exactly show the opposite.

When he looks at you, your eyes are solemn and your downturned lips look so sad that it makes him feel like shit. 

See. This is why he’s always confused when he’s with you. You make him feel so much all at once and he can’t quite put it. 

“You tell me a lot of stuff everyday.” Is what he settles with. 

“Fair.” You say after awhile. “But uhm…” 

“Yes?” Jungkook immediately says, intrigued. You’re about to speak when his phone rings. You both look at the small device lying on his bed. When Jungkook picks it up, the caller ID says Han Hyorin. “Sorry, I’ll just pick this up.” 

Pressing on the green icon, he hears Hyorin’s voice at the end of the line. 

“Hey, Kook,” 

“Hi, Hyorin. What is it?” 

“What was your student email again? I can’t really find it on the roster.”

Jungkook recites it and then that’s the end of the conversation. He finds it strange because she could’ve just texted him but anyway, he turns to you again after the call ends. 

“Who was that?” You ask curiously. 

“Hyorin.” 

You still in your seat. Then nod. 

You don’t say anything again. 

And that stretches into another few minutes that Jungkook is once again confused. When he looks right over to you, you’re all up in your device. 

He stands up from the bed, leaves his laptop on the mattress, and then walks right over to your direction to stand behind the chair you’re seated on. Ducking down a bit, he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. 

“You’re almost done?” 

When you turn back, your faces are so close to each other that his swivel chair creaks a little when you get taken aback. Jungkook steps back. 

“Yeah. I think so. You?” You say, looking up at him. 

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, inserting his hand on his pockets as he looks straight ahead on your screen. 

“I’ll finish up later.” 

You nod then turn back to your iPad. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows meet once again and he sighs. 

“__,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

You turn to him so quickly. “What?” 

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks because he can’t take any of this anymore. You’re so… distant. And it makes him feel like he’s on edge. “You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I want to apologize if I did something wrong. But even if I didn’t, then I’m still sorry.”

Jungkook watches as your lips part, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s not the one to shy away from apologies – if he’s done something wrong, then he makes sure to take accountability. 

It’s different when it’s with you, though. He knows he isn’t exactly his nicest and his best to you… but it’s his complicated feelings that get in the way. He doesn’t know how to handle them. He doesn’t know how to handle you. 

“N-no!” You say. “You didn’t do anything.” 

He sends an arched brow your way. 

You shake your head vigorously. “It’s just… uhm… I thought…” 

“You thought…?” 

You look away, and it’s the first time Jungkook sees you seemingly shy. 

“I thought you’d like my company more if I didn’t talk much.” 

Now Jungkook’s just perplexed. 

You. ibble on your bottom lip before you say your next words. “I know you don’t exactly like me that much – that you’re just putting up with me because of this project and all that, but I really like you. Uhm. As a friend. I’d like to be your friend but I’m realizing now that I’m probably just annoying you with all of my blabbering and it’s unfair to you that I just keep on imposing myself on you even though you make it very clear that you’re not keen on befriend—” 

“__?” 

“— hm?” 

“Stop that.” Jungkook says because he can’t bear to hear you say things that aren’t the least bit true at all. “It’s not true.” 

“Which part?” you pout.

Jungkook would like to wipe that off your face with something. Like his lips. And that thought sends him into overdrive. He needs to get a grip of himself, seriously. 

“Everything.” 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to just frown. 

“You’re a liar.” 

“What?” 

You burst. “Well, for one– you always avoid me! You don’t even greet me in the hallways. And even in the same class you don’t smile at me or anything and the only time you ever acknowledge me is when we do this stupid project and okay I get it, you only like bubbly girls when they’re Han Hyorin, but why not me?”

Jungkook, puzzled, asks, “How’d Hyorin get into this?” 

Your shoulders deflate. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you—” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. He closes his eyes before opening them back again. “Can you listen to me?” 

You plop back down on the chair with an indignant huff. Jungkook lets out a low chuckles but you only glare at him. 

So goddarn cute, he thinks to himself. 

“You’re just… you’re just too much okay?” He sees the way your face falls and he nearly punches himself for how he worded it. “Wait no– that’s not right. I meant, you’re just – you make me feel a lot of things, __.” 

“Things?” 

“Yeah. You confuse me.” 

“Why?” You look so confused it melts Jungkook. 

“I don’t know how to explain it either. Just that… you need to know I don’t not like you. I like your little blabbering. I look forward to your breakfast stories. I like your nails. I like your skirt. And I like your new apple pencil case.” 

Jungkook watches as your face turns soft. And suddenly, you have that million dollar grin again on your face. 

“Really?” 

“Hm.” 

You squeal and the next thing he knows you’re onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, locking him into a hug. 

“We’re friends now?” 

Jungkook takes the opportunity to encircle your waist around his arms, noting the size difference. And how easy it was for him to snuggle his nose subtly into your hair to smell your sweet shampoo and perfume in that position. 

You always smell so good. 

“Friends.” 

Jungkook doesn’t really think he can take both of you as just being friends, though.

[bcmbiquinn]

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson Headcanons

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d always make mixtapes/playlists for you for any occasion, “songs that remind me of us” “we should make out to this rhythm” type of thing.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’d drag you to every underground metal concert he can find but he would also go to any concert you want.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Following the above, he would do anything to get you tickets for your favourite artist, like anything! Camping the night before to be early in line -modern Eddie would have a laptop, 3 phones and a tablet to get you tickets-

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Late night drives with your boy, yup! Blasting music, windows down and taking random turns until you end up in a secluded spot and make out for hours. (Maybe more)

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie is definitely a total romantic, he would write you cheesy love notes on scraps of paper, make poems for you, showing up late at night outside your window with a flower he stole from your neighbour yard.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would try on making breakfast for you, but it’s mostly just burnt toast and half cooked scrambled eggs, he tried tho!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Touchy touchy, this man can’t take his hands off of you, pinching your cheeks, hand on your lower back, on your knees, caressing your arm, kisses on your forehead and neck and so on.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Eddie definitely needs a lot of reassurance, deep inside he always feels like people would eventually leave him, he desperately wants you to reassure him but struggles to ask for it, but once you do it and tell him there’s no one else you’d rather be, he melts instantly!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s really into matching tattoos and would love to get one with you but if you’re hesitant about, he’d just draw one on you with a sharpie.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ ridiculously overprotective, you stub your toe, he’s like “Who did this to you?” Then proceeds to flip of the chair or hit the couch with his foot and ends up hurting himself too!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He’s sooo dramatic when he gets a cold, acts like he’s dying, all tucked acting like he’s on his deathbed holding your hand dramatically “my love…i don’t think I’d make it this time”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He can’t lie and definitely can’t keep secrets from you, if he has planned a surprise for you, he’s going to mess up immediately “Okay but when we get to the… I mean the totally normal thing we're doing! Forget what i said that!”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He would stole your snacks and leftovers, his logic? “What’s yours is mine, love. That’s how love works”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He takes fake offence to everything, if you say you don’t like a band he loves he would act as if you just stabbed him.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He’s genuinely protective of you, if someone upset you he goes full beast mode, “do I need to kick someone’s ass?” He doesn’t play about you or your safety.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ if he’s ever mad at you, he would never be mean, he may cross his arms and grumble but the moment you give him puppy eyes he melts “you’re so lucky I love you, you little gremlin”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ Our boy is a crybaby but he never had someone to rely on until he found you, he would try to hold his tears but the moment you hug him and whisper “I got you, Eds” it’s over, he buries his face on your shoulder shaking as he sobs.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ He loves making gifts for you, he thinks it’s way more romantic, he would spent hours making the perfect necklace, ring for you, love letters, a scrapbook with all the memories you’ve made together, concert tickets, Polaroids.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He totally loves your quirks, if you’re into collecting rocks, you better believe he would get you the prettiest rocks!

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He would give you one of his rings and if it doesn’t fit on your finger because it’s too big he would turn it into a necklace.

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧he would give the most out of place birthday cards “congratulations on your promotion” “yaaaaaaaaay”

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧He gives you his stuff to you for no reason, his jacket? Take it, his favourite band pin? Take it. If you ever mention liking something he has, straight right into your hands “No, really take it, I don’t even need it” he probably does need it.

We’re close to valetine’s day baddies!

Divider: @adornedwithlight

[levandright]

i want to request a riki fluff drabble! soulmate au but it's the reincarnation type where they receive or dream memories of their past when they reach a certain age.

-⭐ anon

Eternal Bond

pairing : riki x fem reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : fluff, enemies/rivals to lovers, past lovers, soulmate au, riki calls you his sweet dove, highschool au ୨ৎ word count : 842 ・ archive

synopsis. in a world where everyone has soulmates and gets memories of their past lives when they turn seventeen, you’re completely shocked to find out that riki—your biggest rival since elementary school—was actually your soulmate in your past life. back then, you were his kind, devoted fiancée, a noblewoman engaged to a rebellious prince, and the two of you were totally in love. but in this life, all you and riki do is compete, pushing each other harder every year. ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : thank you for requesting this ⭐ anon <3 i had a lot of fun making this! hopefully you like it. my requests are very much open so feel free to send one <3

you had braced yourself for it since your birthday months ago, but nothing could have prepared you for the shock of remembering your past-life memories. the truth that your past self had been engaged to him, to riki, was something you could barely wrap your head around. he, the rebellious fourth prince, and you, the kind and loyal fiancée. it seemed unreal—especially since, in this life, riki was your biggest rival, the person you’d been trading snide remarks with since elementary school, and someone you were constantly trying to outdo.

but the memories didn’t lie. he was your soulmate. that fact settled into your mind, slowly softening the sharp edges of your rivalry with him. it was confusing, but no one else understood why you’d suddenly started holding back in arguments or why you’d bite your tongue when he’d tease you in class. it felt silly at times, but the warmth from your past-life connection began to weave into your present self, and no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t hide the change.

riki wasn’t an idiot. of course he'd noticed. you could feel his gaze on you more often, watching you closely whenever your paths crossed. there was a spark of suspicion behind his gaze, as if he was waiting for you to slip up. as much as you feared he’d figure it out, there was also a secret thrilling hope that he would. so when december 9th rolled around—his seventeenth birthday—you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d remember his past-life connection as quickly as you had.

the day came, and you tried your best to avoid him, slipping through the halls and sneaking into class a few minutes late. for the morning, it worked. but you knew that wouldn’t last.

lunchtime came, and you slipped aawy from class into the library, hoping to find a quiet spot where you could just be alone for a while. you settled into a corner near the back, buried in a book, trying to ignore the anxiety stirring inside you. but then you heard footsteps, and when you looked up, there he was. riki.

he stood by the table, arms crossed, a glint of determination in his eyes. you froze. “you can’t hide in here,” he said, his voice casual, but you could tell something was off. he wasn’t leaving.

riki walked toward you, and with each step, your heart raced. before you could react, he slid into the chair across from you, leaning in slightly.

“care to explain yourself?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

you blinked, feigning innocence. “explain what?”

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze intense. “you know exactly what i mean. we’re soulmates,” he whispered, low and filled with frustration. “and i find out now of all times? you could’ve told me earlier.”

your heart hammered as you nervously glanced around the library, thankful it was mostly empty. “i didn’t know how you’d react,” you said quietly, looking down at your hands.

riki let out a frustrated sigh, the tension rising. his eyes were no longer playful. “so you thought you’d just pretend nothing had changed? watch me get all confused about why you’ve been acting… different lately?” his voice dropped, and his gaze softened for just a moment. “what, you thought i wouldn’t notice?”

the silence between you both was thick, charged with so much unspoken emotion. you avoided his gaze, biting your lip. “i didn’t want to make things weird… especially with how we’ve been.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes studying you carefully. and then—bam!

he leaned in suddenly, placing a hand on your wrist, his touch sparking a reaction deep inside you. you jolted slightly, memories flooding back in waves, overwhelming you.

he tilted his head with a teasing grin. “you talk too much, you know that?”

before you could protest, riki closed the gap between you, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss, almost hesitant but filled with all the weight of your shared past. it was as though time had folded in on itself, and for a second it was like the two of you had never been apart.

when he pulled back, his smile was faint yet triumphant. “my sweet dove. you’re still as stubborn as ever huh?”

you stared at him wide-eyed, your heart racing. his words, that pet name—it felt so familiar, so right and yet so foreign in this life. “you… remember everything?”

riki nodded, a smirk tugging at his lips, though it was softer than usual. “every last bit.” he leaned back, crossing his arms. “now that we’ve got that sorted, what are we going to do about this little rivalry of ours?”

you blinked, a laugh comes out of you unexpectedly. “maybe we can take a break from it… just this once.”

he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “i’ll consider it… for my dove.”

and for the first time in this life, you felt something stronger than rivalry, something that bridged the gap between your past and present—a feeling that maybe, just maybe, love could make its way through everything.

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©levandright