#well i did kinda sleep. for like 2 and a half hours

[andrasaurus]

sunshine & apple pies

ch. 2 ( prev )

pairings: tommy x reader, joel x reader | pre outbreak

warnings: (chapter specific) MDNI, 18+, fingering, yearning, joel being deadly, tommy can’t take it, teasing, dirty talk, emotional turmoil, SMUT (finally), age gap

summary: (chap specific) tommy doesn’t wanna cross that line, you’re the first girl he’s ever really wanted to keep around. and he fucks everything up when he sleeps with someone. but joel? joel can’t make any promises. not when you look at him like that. or when you show up wearing his new favorite piece of clothing. or when you talk to him like he doesnt intimidate you.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: finally… something dirty… i have such a hard time writing smut so hopefully i did it some justice??? i can’t choose between the brothers, yall should know this soooo yeah, finally gonna open the joel can of worms. baby boy tommy is just too soft for us right now, he’ll get his turn. i PROMISE.

Chapter Two: Denim & Booze

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It had been five weeks and a half since Tommy Miller waltzed into your half-unpacked life and stayed there like he belonged. You’d see him nearly every day — him stopping by with iced tea or bringing over borrowed tools he insisted you’d “need eventually,” even if you clearly didn’t.

The flirting hadn’t stopped.

Not once.

Not when he found you trying to fix your stubborn window and offered to “get his hands dirty if you got your knees dirty first,” earning a cushion thrown square at his chest. Not when he offered you a ride to the hardware store, and leaned across the console to buckle your seatbelt — slow, deliberate, warm breath grazing your cheek. Not when he lingered in your kitchen late one night after helping fix a leaky faucet, the two of you laughing over cheap wine, legs touching beneath the table, a pause in the conversation that nearly turned into a kiss.

Nearly.

But Tommy had pulled back. Every time. Subtle, but deliberate. Always with that crooked, apologetic smile, and a look in his eyes like he wanted to cross that line more than anything — but liked you too damn much to mess it up.

So, when he showed up this afternoon, knocking with two fingers against your doorframe and with that damn smile of his, you grinned instantly.

“Got somethin’ to tell me I don’t know about,” you ask, moving aside to let him in.

He stepped in with a shrug. “Sorta. But depends if you want your mood to go to shit.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

Tommy’s smile stretched, nervous and warm. “Figured it’s about time you met Joel.”

That made you blink. “Your brother?”

“The one and only.”

You’d seen Joel around town, when you’d get some pizza, pass by the hardware store window, glancing in to see his tall brooding figure, brows knitted, too focused on nails to notice you staring. Would smile at him when Tommy would spot you and run over to you and wave that he’s with his brother.

You leaned back against the counter, trying to play it cool. “Big deal, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “A little. He’s… important to me. And you’re—well—you’re kinda stuck with me now.”

You looked at him for a beat. Something soft passed between you. “Alright,” you said finally. “I’ll meet your big scary brother.”

He grinned, something proud flickering behind his eyes. “He ain’t that scary. Just grumpy.”

Hours pass, as you’re getting dressed you start to feel unnervingly nervous. Joel was so intimidating each time you’d catch a glimpse of him while you both were leaving home at the same time. And now you’re gonna be face to face with him? You round the corner into Joel’s backyard, six-pack swinging at your side, sun kissing your bare legs. Your shirt clings thin and soft to your skin, and you’ve got that innocent-accidental-sexy thing going — not on purpose, but Tommy feels it like a sucker punch to the chest.

He sees you and damn near drops his beer.

“Goddamn,” he mutters to himself.

You grin, rolling your shoulders back a little at the unintentional added confidence, “That for me or the beer?”

He tosses you a look, all mischief and smiles. “Guess you’ll never know.” He steps forward, already reaching for the six-pack with a smirk. “You even old enough to buy this?”

You shove a hand right into his chest — not hard, but enough to make him stumble half a step, grinning like he lives for your sass. “I’m twenty-three, not sixteen, Tommy.”

“Might wanna let your wardrobe know,” he teases, eyes flicking down to the denim hugging your thighs. “Looks like that skirt is a little too small for you.”

You swat at him again, laughing. “You’re such an ass.”

“And you,” he says, cracking open a beer, “are gonna give my poor brother a heart attack walkin’ in lookin’ like that. Poor old bastards not gonna know what him ‘em.”

You glance toward Joel, who’s watching from the grill with quiet interest. That unreadable Miller stare.

“Me?,” you ask. “Just tryna make a good first impression, Tommy.”

Tommy shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he follows you across the lawn, but you hear it anyway:

“Lord help me, you’re gonna ruin us both.”

Tommy had been restless all evening.

You caught him looking one too many times. At your legs draped over the arm of the patio chair. At the way your skirt had hiked up just a bit too high when you reached for another beer. At the way your laughter rolled soft and slow under the pink haze of sunset.

By the time his phone buzzed — screen lighting up with some name he didn’t bother to hide — he stood too quickly.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, brushing his palms on his jeans like he needed a reason to leave. “That’s my cue.”

Joel looked up from where he was stoking the fire pit, eyebrows raised. “Leavin’ so soon.”

Tommy shrugged, doing his best to look casual. “Old friend in town. Gonna catch up. Nothin’ major.”

You just smiled into your drink. You weren’t blind. You knew what “catching up” meant. And the look Tommy gave you before walking out — jaw clenched, eyes low, not quite meeting yours — said everything he wouldn’t say. Tommy didn’t want you, that was loud and clear. And did you even want him? No, right? You were just his best friend, the girl he can confide in. The girl who sat here waiting to hear all about how good his lay was. And you were absolutely fine with that, except on some nights where you wanted just a little bit more. Maybe it’s cause he was just always there, available. Only guy you’d talk to since moving here.

But you couldn’t be so far off from the truth. Not with Tommy.

He couldn’t handle it tonight.

Couldn’t handle you tonight.

Once the gate clinked shut behind him, the silence settled like a warm pressure in the air. The sun dipped lower. Joel tossed the last of the paper plates into the trash.

He stood a few feet away now, nursing the final beer, watching you without watching you. Joel was handling tonight so well, despite wanting to rip off that small fucking shirt and short skirt. He can’t lie, every time he’d see you in town- acting like you weren’t even there, it would fucking kill him. He couldn’t help but watch you while you talked to his brother across the street from the hardware store. Couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on your body, watch you from his rear view mirror in his driveway as you climb into your truck, all legs and soft hair he wants to pull so badly.

“Well…” he muttered, gaze lingering on the empty cooler, “ain’t no more beer left. Ate all the food. Gettin’ late.”

It was an out. A polite escape.

But you weren’t ready to take it.

You tilted your head, lips curling as you uncrossed your legs and stood — slowly, letting the movement stretch, letting the moment breathe.

“Can always get another six pack,” you said, brushing your hands on your skirt, smoothing the denim. “Gas station’s just down the street, right?” You said in that sweet voice of yours.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and you saw it. That flicker. That shift. The tight nod he gave wasn’t casual. It was calculated.

You grabbed your bag off the patio chair, already walking toward the gate. “You comin’, old man?”

Joel didn’t move at first. He just watched you — watched the way your hips swayed, watched the way you didn’t wait for him, the way you knew he’d follow.

And when you reached the sidewalk and looked back over your shoulder, the corner of your mouth lifting into that devilish little smirk?

He was already grabbing his keys.

The walk to his truck is quiet, save for the sound of your boots clicking against the sidewalk and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat in your ears.

The sun’s dipped low enough now that the streetlights are flickering to life. Fireflies blink lazily near the fence line. It’s that in-between time—where anything could happen, and you wouldn’t be able to say whether it was night or day that made you do it.

Joel walks beside you, hands in his pockets, stealing glances when he thinks you aren’t noticing. You are.

When you reach his truck, he rounds the front ahead of you, and without a word, he opens the passenger door.

It surprises you, just a little.

You blink up at him, fingers brushing his as you grab the door frame to climb in. “Well damn,” you murmur, settling into the seat. “Didn’t peg you for the gentleman type.”

Joel lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, but there’s something playful in his eyes. Something warm. “Don’t mean I’m not.”

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him as he closes the door. And when he circles around to the driver’s side and slides in beside you, you swear there’s something new hanging in the air.

“Was that a smile?” you tease, your voice light, just this side of dangerous.

Joel starts the engine, his hand gripping the wheel, jaw ticking like he’s trying not to give you anything more.

But then… he glances over. Briefly. And damn if that isn’t a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. That same mouth you’d seen so tight all evening. Pressed and unreadable.

“I don’t smile,” he mutters.

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs slowly, knowing damn well what you’re doing.

“Could’ve fooled me, old man.”

Joel shakes his head once and pulls onto the street. “You’re trouble,” he says.

You grin out the window, letting the wind kiss your cheek. “And you’re drivin’ me to more beer. So what does that make you?”

He doesn’t answer. Just lets the silence stretch, but it’s not empty—it’s full. Charged. Like a wire pulled tight between you both, humming and hot and dangerous.

At the red light, his hand drops from the wheel and lands—heavy, casual—on the center console. Close. Real close to your bare thigh.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

The truck rumbles to a stop under the harsh glow of the corner store lights. The gas station is quiet—just one other car parked out front, some country ballad playing low from the speakers overhead. Inside, it’s all stale air, neon buzz, and the faint scent of motor oil and bubblegum.

Joel cuts the engine and doesn’t move right away. His hand stays on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead like he needs one more second to gather himself.

You don’t wait.

You push open the door and step out into the heat that’s clinging to the pavement, that little denim skirt hugging your hips like it was sewn on, and when he hears the door close shut, he finally follows.

Inside, it’s cooler. Too quiet.

You walk straight for the coolers in the back, hips swaying with intention—not too much. Just enough to let him feel it. You hear the door shut behind him and the jingle of the little bell overhead, but you don’t turn around. He watches you smile at a stranger, looking so innocent that, God, no man knows how to handle that. No man knows how to not fall into that honey soaked bear trap.

You crouch, pretending to examine the shelves. “What’s the move, Miller? More Lone Star?”

Joel’s voice is lower now, rougher. “Whatever you’re in the mood for.”

You hum as you open the fridge door, reaching in for a six-pack. And that’s when you feel him.

Standing behind you.

Close.

So close his chest almost brushes your back when you straighten. So close you feel his breath at the nape of your neck as he leans in just enough to speak low into your ear.

“You always dress like that for beer runs?” he asks, voice gravel and warmth, soaked in something else now.

You don’t look at him. Not yet. Just close the fridge and turn slowly, the six-pack balanced in your hands between you.

“I didn’t dress for beer,” you say, voice soft, eyes up at him.

Joel’s gaze drops to your mouth. Then lower.

You can see the war playing out behind his eyes. The way his jaw tightens. The way his hand flexes at his side like he’s picturing it—gripping the back of your neck, pulling you in, pressing you up against the freezer door and kissing the attitude right out of your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets out a breath like it hurts.You’re Tommy’s friend. Tommy’s girl.

“You’re trouble,” he says again. And this time, it’s not playful.

It’s a warning.

A plea.

And still—he doesn’t back up.

You tilt your head, standing your ground. “And yet here you are.”

He looks at you for a long, stretched second. Then takes the six-pack from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. Hot. Firm.

“I’ll get this,” he says roughly, voice not quite steady. “Go wait in the truck.”

You hesitate—just a second longer, enough to keep the air thick between you—and then you turn, the sway of your walk leaving a trail of tension behind you all the way back to the parking lot.

You slide into the passenger seat, heart pounding, the ghost of his breath still on your skin.

And when Joel walks out with that bag in one hand, jaw tight, eyes unreadable?

You know.

He felt it too.

The ride back is quiet.

Not awkward—just… coiled.

Like something held in the fist of the night, waiting to snap.

Joel’s hand is back on the wheel, knuckles pale. His other rests on the center console, fingers drumming slow and tight against the leather.

You sit beside him, legs crossed toward the window, skirt riding higher than it ever should, your head tilted just enough that your perfume keeps drifting over. Sweet. Soft. Dangerous.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

Because Joel’s thoughts are loud. Louder than the road. Louder than the cicadas humming in the summer heat.

He’s thinking about how you looked crouched in front of that cooler. How close you were. How easy it would’ve been to give in. And he’s thinking about your mouth—your voice—how everything about you says innocent until those damn eyes meet his and there’s something else under the surface.

You don’t even know what you’re doing to him.

And that might be the worst part.

He pulls up in front of his house, engine rumbling low as the porch light flickers on—soft and yellow, catching the edges of your face like a painting.

You go to open the passenger door, but his voice stops you.

“We don’t gotta keep the night goin’.. if you’re tired,” Joel says. Another out. Another notch in the belt coming loose.

“But you went through all that trouble to grab a six pack. I’m game if you are,” you say. That sly look on your face, giving him that look that says come on, old man. you want me.

He huffs. He’s still and so fucking quiet.

That pulls a laugh from you. Soft. Breathless.

And your eyes—those eyes—look right into him, steady and warm and wild, and he feels it.

Feels himself slipping.

“Joel,” you murmur, one hand on the door, “you’re starin’.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Yeah. I am.”

Your pulse jumps. “Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just leans back in his seat, gaze flicking over you, jaw tight like he’s choking on the truth. Then he admits..,

“I think if I got any closer, I won’t be able to stop myself from doin-.”

You swallow.

The air is thick now. Sticky with something unsaid. You blink at him, lips parted, a thousand thoughts catching in your throat.

“I wouldn’t stop you,” you admit in a whisper, cutting him off.

Joel groans under his breath, leans forward like he’s gonna grip the steering wheel tighter or punch the dash or pull you into his lap—you don’t know which.

He turns his face. Looks out the windshield. Breathing heavy.

The bottles sweating at the bottom where you let Joel put them between your feet.

The sun is low, orange spilling over his hands on the wheel. Your skirt rides higher than it did when you left— your legs are bare, crossed, smooth, the kind of sight that makes his jaw clench.

He hasn’t looked at you much since you got in the truck. Not really. Not until now.

He clears his throat. Quiet. Then, gruff:

“Goddamn, you in that skirt.”

Your brows lift, playful. “Hm?”

Joel glances at you, “you always show that much skin?”

You tilt your head. Voice like sugar.

“What? This little thing?”

You run your hand up your thigh, slow. He watches every inch of it like it’s a threat. “Would it be better if I change into something a little more modest?”

He doesn’t speak. Just stares. His eyes are dark, jaw set. Then a slow, tight shake of his head.

“Prefer less.”

You shift toward him, the leather seat creaking. You hold his gaze, your voice quieter this time—sincere, but soaked in intent..

“You can touch me if you want.”

Joel stills. That old heartbeat of his stumbling once, twice.

He doesn’t answer with words.

His hand reaches out, slow, like he’s in a dream. Like this isn’t real. Like it can’t be. But when his calloused palm cups your thigh, he breathes a quiet, near-pained sound. His thumb rubs a lazy circle against the inside, and he mutters:

“Fuckin’ soft.”

Your breath hitches.

His hand slides higher. The hem of your skirt moves with him. His knuckles brush lace and his eyes flash. That muscle in his jaw ticks again.

“You ‘n my brother..” His fingers toy at the edge of your underwear. “Ain’t no way you and Tommy aren’t a thing.”

“We’re not,” you whisper, “just friends. I mean it.”

Joel’s eyes search yours. Something raw. Need. Guilt. Hunger.

And then—

His fingers slide under the lace.

One slow, reverent stroke through your folds.

“Shit, baby.”

Another.

“So wet already. That f’me?”

You whimper. Nod. Don’t even try to hide it.

“Tell me,” he grits. His voice is low, nearly so fucking ruined. “Tell me this ain’t just me wantin’ this.”

You grab his wrist. Push his hand deeper into you.

“I miss when you didn’t talk so much,” you tease. He breathlessly exhales, almost a sort of laugh.

“Gonna wish you didn’t say that, baby girl.”

And then he gives it to you.

One finger. Then another. Thick and curling just right. Your hips buck into him and he groans—actually groans—like it physically hurts to touch you this good. To watch your brows furrow together in pure ecstasy. To watch you bite back a moan.

“Jesus Christ, this sweet little cunt,” he mutters. “Bet you taste like heaven. Been thinking about this every night since I saw you. Thinkin’ about it since you walked through those gates, wearing this little fucking skirt. Like you want it.”

Your skirt’s around your hips now, your back pressed against the window, his fingers fucking you in slow, desperate pumps. His mouth is against your ear, hot, ragged.

“Tommy don’t know what he’s missin’.”

“He doesn’t want me,” you say through short breaths.

“Fuckin’ tool. Always been. But always had the prettiest little things ‘round him.”

You cry out as he presses deeper, thumb circling your clit.

You’re trembling.

Not from cold.

Not from fear.

But from the feel of him. From the way Joel’s fingers curve so perfectly, fucking up into you slow and steady, like he’s trying to memorize every ridge inside you. Like he wants to ruin you gently.

Your thighs are spread wide across the bench seat. His other hand keeps your knee held open, firm grip, thumb brushing tender circles as he watches you.

And god, he watches you.

Eyes glued to your face, to the way your breath stutters, to the way your head tips back and your lips part around his name—

“J-Joel..”

He hushes you softly, leaning in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I know darlin’. I know. Feels good, don’t it?”

Your hips buck and he smirks—slow and sinful—fingers still stroking inside you, his thumb now working slow, relentless circles against your clit. Wet sounds filling the truck. His eyes dark. You’re so fucking wet. Too wet.

“You been holdin’ this in, huh?” he murmurs, mouth trailing kisses along your jaw, voice low and thick with heat. “Walkin’ ‘round town in your little skirts, those tight jeans. You wear those for me?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

So his fingers fuck it out of you.

Harder now. Deeper. Curling just right, right there—

“Tell me,” he growls. “You wear those for me, sweet girl? Just for this old man?”

You whimper, nod frantically, hand clutching at his arm. His muscles flex under your touch—strong, rough, real.

He bites at your neck, not hard, just enough.

“Fuckin’ knew it. Got my brother walkin’ on cloud 9. Tellin’ me how sweet you are, but you aren’t. Are you? Only thing sweet about you is this pussy, huh?”

You moan again, writhing on his fingers. A breathless fuck escaping your mouth.

“Told myself to stay away from you. That you’re Tommy’s, but now? Look at you…”

You sigh, throwing your head back, “‘m not Tommy’s. Just. Friends.”

His voice drops. Filthy. Reverent. Worshipping, gawking.

“Letting’ me touch this sweet little pussy… lettin’ me fuck you with my fingers like you’re already mine.”

You pant, back arching as your orgasm creeps higher—closer.

And Joel knows it. He feels it. Smirks again, low and breathless.

“That’s it,” he mutters, lips pressed against your cheek, fingers fucking that soft spot inside you that feels so damn good, “c’mon baby girl. Wanna feel you cum all over my fuckin’ hand.”

“Show me how bad you need me,” he continues. His words tugging at your insides. You swear you could probably cum from his words alone.

And you do.

You cry out his name—over and overs—tightening around his fingers, body jerking as your orgasm rips through you like wildfire.

He groans, low and deep, like the sound hurts.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

You ride it out on his fingers, hips stuttering as you fall forward into him, whimpering and gasping, flushed and wrecked.

Joel strokes your thigh, still buried in you, not pulling away yet. His nose brushes your temple, a kiss placed so sweet, it contradicts every filthy thing he just did.

And then he finally pulls his fingers from you—slow, deliberate. You watch him.

He brings them to his mouth.

Sucks them clean.

And moans. “So fuckin’ sweet. Like honey.”

You’re still panting. Still trembling. Eyes glazed.

“Joel-,” you start to say.

“Don’t say my name like that,” his voice low, barely above a whisper, raspy, rough. He shifts back in his seat, fingers still glistening. “Ain’t got the strength to not fuck you stupid if you do.”

Then you see it. His cock so fucking hard, so taut in his jeans, it probably hurts. Wanting so badly to be buried inside you.

You laugh. Breathless. Bashful. But his eyes darken again.

“I mean it,” voice rough. “I’ll throw that little skirt to the backseat and keep you here all night. Make you cum so many times you forget how to stand.”

Your thighs clench.

And he notices.

Smirks again.

Then—like it never happened—he grabs the six-pack from the passenger seat floor and opens his door.

“Go inside, sweetheart,” he says. Quiet. Shaky. “While you still can.”

You hesitate—heart aching to stay—but then you nod. Slip out of the truck and let the night swallow you.

He watches you walk all the way to the gate you had came out of earlier. Watches your legs slightly shake, your hair catching the patio light, the soft swing of your hips like a curse.

His keys jingle as he unlocks the back door, and when you step inside, it’s warmer than you expected. Lived-in. Smelling like old books and cedar and a hint of cologne you want to press into your skin.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, voice thick and a little too soft, a little too far gone.

He drops the beer on the counter, already opening one, already grinning when he leans his hip against the counter beside you, handing you one too. He watches you. Always watching.

Two beers later, you’re both sitting out back again—on his porch steps now, closer than before. Shoulders brushing. The kind of distance that only exists so you can feel it burn.

You’re giggling over some story from your teenage years, legs bare and stretched across the wooden step below, toes pointed, fingers curled around the neck of your bottle. Joel’s laughing too—really laughing. That warm, gruff, genuine kind that seems like it hasn’t had reason to come out in years. Like he wasn’t just growling filthy things in your ear an hour ago.

“You were a little menace,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You look over, all sweetness and sin. “Still am.”

He hums, eyes flicking to your mouth and then away again.

You lean in just a touch. Just enough that your thigh brushes his jeans. You knew what you were doing. His eyes follow yours, something like miss me already behind them. “Bet you were somethin’ else back then, too. I can picture it. All broody and cocky. Bet you broke hearts.”

Joel scoffs, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. “I wasn’t exactly… smooth.”

You tilt your head, lashes fluttering. “You’re kinda smooth now.”

That earns a chuckle—low and a little breathless. He tips his beer toward you in mock salute. “Must be the alcohol talkin’.”

You reach over and fix the collar of his flannel, slow and unhurried, fingers brushing the skin at his neck. “Or maybe I like the way you look when you’re soft.”

He stills.

Everything stills.

His eyes search yours—so close now you could count every crease, every scar. The stark contrast from how ruined you two were in his truck to now makes your head spin. You could reach out and trace the edge of that dark beard, feel how rough it was against your skin. Your breath catches, and his jaw clenches, and for one terrifying, beautiful second—

He leans in.

Almost.

And then—

Keys jingle. Door creaks.

“Dad?”

You both jerk back like struck matches. Joel scrubs a hand over his face, muttering something you don’t catch as he stands just a little too fast, beer bottle forgotten beside his chair.

Sarah steps onto the back porch, backpack slung over one shoulder, frozen mid-step when she sees you.

You recover quicker than Joel. “Hi,” you say, smile warm. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to invade. Your dad was just feeding me beer and embarrassing himself.”

Sarah raises a brow. “Sounds like him.”

Joel clears his throat. “This is ..uh.. she’s the one Tommy’s been helpin’ move in. Across the street.”

“Ah. The one Tommy can’t shut up about.” Sarah nods slowly. Her eyes flick to her dad, then back to you. “Nice to meet you. Heard you make a mean banana muffin.”

You laugh, standing to brush your hands on your skirt. “Guilty.”

Joel avoids your gaze completely.

You know that look. That pull back. Like the moment cracked something open in him and he’s now desperate to shove it shut. The look his brother gives you every day. Only it stings more from Joel because his fingers were just inside you.

“Well it was nice to meet you, Sarah. Gonna let this old man catch some z’s.” You start to walk back towards the gate.

“I’ll walk you home,” Joel says.

He walks you to the sidewalk anyway.

Silent for a while. Hands in his pockets. Breathing tight.

At your gate, he finally speaks.

“You’re good company,” he says, eyes fixed on the horizon. “It was… a nice change of scenery. Havin’ you next to me.”

You smile, gentle. “Felt nice. Being there. Your fingers felt nice too.”

His eyes meet yours then. Dark. Lust filled. And something lingers in the space between you—sweet and heavy, wanting and wrong, right and too much.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Night, Joel.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

You step inside your house, and he doesn’t move until your porch light flicks on.

And back in his kitchen, when Sarah asks what that was all about?

Joel just shakes his head, pours a glass of water, and says, “…trouble.”

“She seems nice. Definitely Uncle Tommy’s type.”

Joel purses his lips, “everybody’s your uncles type.”

Sarah mumbles a ‘true’ and then says, “so are they like a thing? She’s hangin’ out with you now, tryna work you up so you can tell her all Tommy’s secrets huh.”

“Nah, said they’re just friends,” Joel says as he begins to turn off all the lights in the kitchen.

“Uncle Tommy know that,” Sarah ask. Shrugging then walking away leaving Joel in the dark. And he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what it is. You said you’re just friends, Tommy never mentioned you in a romantic sense… why the hell does Joel feel so damn guilty?

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[razzafrazzle]

I wanted to edit her further but now blender crashes anytime I select anything so I Guess She's Done

[image description: an animal crossing: city folk-styled 3d model of an original character named cas. cas is a yellow axolotl with reddish gills and tired pink eyes behind rectangular glasses, and is wearing a red and pink sweater over a white button-up. end id]

[kenmaspuddinghair]

Honorably discharged disabled Simon part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3

 The time was exactly 11:59 PM, in less than 60 seconds your phone would go off and you would find Simon still wide awake. You didn't want to bother Simon so you were sleeping in his chair rather than in his bed with him, and Simon couldn't find the nerve to ask you. You were waking up every hour to make sure Simon was sleeping and not in pain but so far he's been awake every time.

It was a soft vibration yet you still woke up and quietly walked over to Simon “why are you still awake? Simon if you're in pain you need to tell me” “I promise ‘m not in pain, ‘m trying to sleep”  you just sighed, this is the response you got the last two times as well  “is there anything I can do for you to fall asleep?" Then Simon got an idea, it was now or never, he knew he wasn't gonna get any sleep knowing you were right there in reach, so he made do. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into the bed next to him “S-simon what are you doing? You have to be careful” Simon just hummed as he fixed the blankets around you “this ‘ill help me sleep” and just like that you were tucked under the covers perfectly into his side and Simon was already drifting to sleep so what kind of nurse would you be if you got up. 

You woke up to your normal morning alarm but it turned off before you even moved, once you fully woke up, you looked around to find Simon right next to you just staring at you, your face flushed as you got out of the bed “i'm gonna go make breakfast” and you scurried away before Simon could reply. Maybe what he did last night was too much? 

You and Simon ate in silence for the first time in a week, once you finished he started walking outside but you stopped him “exactly where are you going” gosh Simon thought you were so pretty with your hands on your hips questioning him “i'm going do a few laps around the base, my normal workout” “and how many laps are ‘a few’ and how long is that going to be, you can't do as much as you used to Simon” he sighed, he knew you were right but he also wanted to show you he could do more than you thought, that's when he made the decision 

Simon grabbed you some shoes and a light jacket as it was still early spring, he didn't ask you to join him he just decided you were, he said it was so you could monitor him and see he was doing fine, but he had a slightly different plan. This was the third hill you and Simon were going across and you were panting so heavily, while Simon kept his breath steady and showed no signs of weakness. Simon had been quiet the entire trip “okay okay Simon, you've made your point, I get it. You're still capable and I don't need to hover so much, can we please go back now?” You were so out of breath Simon kinda felt bad for bringing you up here but you were so close he couldn't turn back now.

“Actually brought ya up ‘ere for a different reason, just a little longer can ya do that?” Simon paused before looking over your whole figure “i'll even carry ya up” you let out a small laugh at that “Simon I can't keep going but I also can't let you carry me, that'll be way too much for you” Simon wasn't taking no for an answer, he just wordless picked you up bridal style before continuing up, after a moment he added “ya weigh like half o’ what I do regularly, this is nothin baby” you just accepted defeat and leaned into the strong man carrying you. 

Simon placed you gently on a bench that was placed at the top of the hill facing the rising sun. After a bit of silence, Simon decided this was his only chance to ask you out but he still wasn't sure how so he just started rambling. “Ya know this bench means ‘lot to me, Price made me lieutenant here, he also brought me up ‘ere to tell me I was honorably discharged…” he felt your hand on his biceps comfortably rubbing circles on him, he took a deep breath before he continued.

He had a whole speech about how much he liked you, how you've been the only person he felt comfortable around, and how he cant stop thinking about you, really he did, he kept rehearsing on the walk here but that's not what came out of his mouth.

“Will ya let me be yer husband?” you were startled you whipped your head to look at him, I mean you knew he would have trouble asking you out but what was this “Simon-” “no I mean like yer future husband, it doesn't have to be now, but I don't wanna wait long, but i'll wait however long ya need-” he was rambling so you cut him off, with a kiss of course, once you pulled back his mouth stayed slightly agape as you smiled at him “I think you were trying to ask me to be your girlfriend, right?” he just nodded still shocked by your bold move, you giggled at his face “of course i'll be yer future wife” you replied teasingly. This didn't go as planned but it was still a win, and Simon would take that, he just needed to make sure he could be the perfect husband for you, his perfect wife, well future wife.

part 5

tags- @piconico17 @just-lilita @madsdawson @silversfavfics @enfppuff @solazoro @sirbonesly @roastyyytoastyyy @the-disaster-in-waiting @lonjitas @squishytap @gays6968 @sunndust @dreamland08 @sweetpeakarolinaaa @marcysbear @alfiestreacle @bxm-2121@goldyghoul  @itsanemu0101 @wolverineswaifu @crempuffie @ohdrey89 @cucurucho-amargo @avalkyrieofparis @castellomargot @cmbghost @strawberrygato @blueladys-world @goodsoup19 @pinkylouise @creepzeyecandy @tessakate @identity2212 (if I added you to the tag list and you don't want to be, just let me go ill remove you)

[yoonlyhan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ in which itoshi sae lets u sleep on his shoulder

it had been an hour riding the bus with sae. you were feeling bored and sleepy while sae is—

you glances at sae.

...still asleep with his eye mask on.

you sighed. you were kinda sulking since you thought you and sae would be talking a lot during the ride but as soon as the wheels of the bus moves, he immediately wore the eye mask and slept.

and it had been an hour since.

you yawned and stretched for a bit to release the tension in your body. then glances at sae again.

you thought it was amazing to be so still while sleeping on a bus. it might've been uncomfortable for sae to sleep while sitting. and you had no idea how he kept it for an hour. you couldn't even last half an hour sleeping in the same position while sitting.

but then again you felt tired as well. and sleepy.

you thought it'll help you sleep comfortable with your head on sae's shoulder. and you did lean your head on his shoulder. you just hoped it would not give sae shoulder cramps with you planning to sleep on him.

you closed your eyes and wait for sleep to get you.

it wasn't even 3 minutes that had passed since you lay on his shoulder when you felt him getting closer and shifting his position to angle his shoulder for your head. sae was not saying a word and neither did you.

when sae felt it was comfortable for the both of you, he leaned his head on the top of your head.

“mh.” you heard him hum.

when you felt his hand sliding up to yours, you moved to grab it and intertwined your fingers with his. you open your sleepy eyes to look at it.

“rest.” you heard him say.

“mhm...” and slowly you were drifted to sleep. and just like you knew you were sleeping soundly for 2 hours while sae holds the position still.

when you woke up, you felt fresh and energetic again. you moved your head away from sae to look at him properly, thinking he was still asleep from how still he was.

nope. sae was wide awake.

you didn't know how long he was awake while you were sleeping but you were guessing it had been a while since sae was not wearing his sleep mask anymore.

sae tilts his head to stretch. all while looking at you.

“you... okay?”

he was still quietly staring at you for 5 seconds before looking away to the window pane.

you blinked when you heard him tsked. you raised your eyebrow at it.

“what?"

“you slept like a baby.”

“you good though?” you looks over to his shoulder.

he looks back at you. “my shoulder's hurt." he kept raising it and lowering it for a stretch. “you were even snoring in my ears.” he scoffed.

“i do not snore. also you could've woken me up the moment you were feeling sore.”

“i didn't want to.”

you stared at him. he stared at back.

you snickered. “yeah you won't, because you love me.”

you poke at his side which he only responds by rolling his eyes. you were practically grinning right now while teasing sae.

oh how you hope he was a bit more honest with his feelings... but it's fine. you always somehow knew that sae loves you more than you think.

i miss sae sm i'm going insane ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ also dedicated this one to @itoshirinnie ♡ u made me laughed sm to ur comment on this fic lol

masterlist ♡

© all written works are created and owned by @yoonlyhan. do not plagiarise or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances. u will be blocked :x

credits to @strangergraphics for the wonderful divider ♡

[ceeaann]

Arcane Highschool!AU 2

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 6.1k words, part 1 here, established relationships except for vi's, Star athlete!vi x band!reader, Childhoodbestfriend!caitlyn, New kid!jinx x Class president!reader, Troublemaker!sevika x Tutor!reader, Artist!ekko x Muse!reader, Bestfriend!jayce, and Enemies to lovers!viktor

A/N - lmaoo.. sorry yall for not posting for like a really long time ;-; studied my azz off last week which was def worth it cuz i did so feaking well on that exam hehe. this was lowk rushed bcuz i rlly wanted to post. hope yall enjoy queens (> 3 <)

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

The weeks following that unexpected late-night moment between you two felt different—charged with something new, something unspoken but lingering in the air. It wasn’t just the occasional brush of hands when walking side by side, or the way she’d glance at you across the cafeteria before looking away just a little too fast. It was the warmth in her voice when she teased you, the way she stuck around after practice just to sit beside you while you tuned your instrument.

She never said why she stayed. You never asked.

But you both knew.

It started with one call—past midnight, your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

“I can’t sleep,” she said when you answered, her voice rough with exhaustion.

You could hear the faint sound of cars passing outside, the rustle of her shifting under the covers.

“You’re calling me because you can’t sleep?” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded at the thought of her thinking about you this late.

“Yeah,” she admitted. A pause. “Your voice is kinda nice.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh.”

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

You smiled, rolling onto your side.

From that night on, the calls became routine. Sometimes she ranted about her coach pushing her too hard. Sometimes you talked about your music, your fingers unconsciously tracing the melodies you’d played that day. Other times, you simply listened to each other breathe, neither willing to hang up first.

one day, she told you about a celebration party her teammates where hosting

She invited you.

“It won’t be the worst thing ever,” she had said, arms crossed as she leaned against your locker. “Just show up for a little bit.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you want me at parties?”

Her lips had twitched, almost like she was fighting back a smirk. “Since I realized you never leave that damn band room. It’s tragic, really.”

So here you were, awkwardly lingering near the kitchen, nursing a half-empty cup of soda while bodies moved and music pulsed around you.

And she? She was in the center of it all—laughing, drinking, surrounded by teammates who treated her like some kind of legend. She belonged here, in the chaos and the noise.

You? Not so much.

You should have left an hour ago, but something held you in place. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing at you between conversations, like she was making sure you were still there. Or maybe it was the warmth in her eyes whenever your gazes met.

Either way, you weren’t leaving just yet.

You had just decided to step outside for some air when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned, blinking up at her. She was closer than expected, her usual cocky smirk in place—but there was something else in her expression, something tense.

“Just getting some air,” you replied. “It’s suffocating in here.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Come on.”

Before you could respond, she was leading you out the back door, weaving through the crowd with ease. The cool night air hit you instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat of the party.

You leaned against the railing of the back porch, inhaling deeply. “Finally.”

She chuckled beside you, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shot her a look. “You asked me to.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out into the night. Then, in a voice softer than you’d ever heard from her, she said, “Yeah. I did.”

Something about the way she said it sent your heartbeat into a sprint.

You shifted, watching her carefully. “Why?”

She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I wanted you here.”

Your breath caught.

She turned to face you fully now, her expression serious—no teasing smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect. Just raw honesty.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around,” she started, voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I’m stubborn, I’m hot-headed, and I probably piss you off at least twice a day.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “At least.”

Her lips quirked up slightly before she continued. “But you… you’re different. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my crap, and somehow, you still—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure she could hear it.

“I keep catching myself looking for you in a crowd,” she admitted, shifting her weight like she was forcing herself to stay still. “I wait outside your rehearsals, even when I could’ve left. I call you at night because your voice is the only thing that makes me feel like the world isn’t spinning too fast.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I like you.”

The words hung between you, thick with weight, with meaning.

“I don’t just like you, actually,” she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I—I think I’m falling for you.”

You stared at her, stunned, unable to form words.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was bracing for rejection. “If that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, just—”

You stepped forward before she could finish, reaching for her hand.

She froze as your fingers slid between hers, as you squeezed lightly.

“You idiot,” you murmured, your chest aching with something overwhelming. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t fully considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat, she huffed out a laugh. “God, we’re dumb.”

You grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked nervous. “Can I—?”

You didn’t let her finish. Instead, you pulled her down into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—she was clumsy, caught off guard, but warm and sure the moment she realized what was happening. One of her hands came up to cup your face, rough and calloused but impossibly gentle.

When you finally pulled away, she was breathless, eyes flickering between yours.

“So,” she murmured, voice lower now. “Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned, lacing your fingers together. “Good.”

And as she pulled you back inside—back into the noise and the chaos of the party—it didn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

Not when she was right beside you.

Not when she was yours.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

The days that followed felt like something out of a dream. The kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from.

She had been true to her word—she didn’t want to let you go again. Every morning, you’d wake up to a good morning text, and by the afternoon, she’d have already made plans for the two of you, whether it was a quiet café visit, a stroll through the city, or simply lounging in her estate’s massive library, reminiscing about the past between pages of old books.

She had slipped back into your life as if she had never left it.

And yet, there was something new about this—something deeper, sweeter

Like the way she’d always find an excuse to touch you, whether it was resting her head on your shoulder when she was tired, bumping her knee against yours under the table, or absentmindedly playing with your fingers when you sat next to each other.

Or the way she would wait for you. Even when she was drowning in responsibilities, she would insist on having lunch together, texting you just to tell you something random about her day.

Or the way she’d steal your snacks.

Without fail, if you had food, she would somehow find a way to take at least a bite. “Sharing is caring,” she’d say, plucking a fry from your plate before you could react. And if you tried to call her out on it? She’d just smirk, pop whatever she took into her mouth, and say, “You love me, so it doesn’t count as stealing.”

(And you couldn’t even argue. Because she was right.)

Then there were the nights.

Those were your favorite.

She was always busiest during the day, but at night? That was when she really let herself be soft with you.

Like when you’d both curl up on the couch, watching movies that neither of you paid attention to because she was too busy tracing lazy patterns against your arm, or playing with your fingers, or resting her head in your lap with the most peaceful look on her face.

Or the nights when she’d show up at your door unannounced, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still full of warmth as she mumbled, “Just needed to see you.”

You’d let her in without question, and she’d collapse onto your bed with a tired sigh, reaching for you without hesitation. “Come here,” she’d murmur, voice softer than usual, more vulnerable. And when you settled next to her, she’d just hold you, burying her face against your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her steady.

Or—your personal favorite—the way she looked at you.

Soft. Fond. Like you were the most precious thing she had ever laid eyes on.

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch in her study, she nudged you with her foot. “Hey.”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cupcakes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want cupcakes,” she repeated matter-of-factly, already standing up and stretching. “And I want to make them with you.”

You laughed, setting your book aside. “Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, offering a hand to pull you up. “But I’m a fast learner. Come on.”

You sighed but let her drag you to the kitchen. What followed was absolute chaos.

Flour on the counter, sugar accidentally spilled on the floor, a mess of ingredients neither of you fully measured properly. She kept getting distracted, flicking flour at you, grinning mischievously every time you yelped in protest.

At some point, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you mixed the batter. “I think we make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I’m doing all the work.”

She hummed, tightening her hold on you slightly. “And you do it so well.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Okay, okay, let’s get these in the oven before I distract you too much.”

Too late, you thought, but you didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, you watched as she carefully placed the tray in the oven, a proud gleam in her eyes despite the fact that neither of you had any idea if the cookies would even taste good.

It didn’t really matter.

Because moments like this—messy, chaotic, ridiculous moments with her—were worth more than any perfect, scripted day.

And when the cupcakes came out horribly burnt, she just laughed, tossed one to you, and said, “Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

Loving her was like standing in the eye of a storm—unpredictable, consuming, and just a little dangerous.

But you never wanted to be anywhere else.

She was everything you weren’t. But in the same way that she crashed into your life like a hurricane, she had also settled into it, leaving pieces of herself in all the places she had touched.

And now, she was everywhere.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere between her dragging you into trouble and worming her way into your perfectly structured life, she had become a permanent fixture.

No, more than that.

She had become yours.

Your mornings were different now.

Instead of waking up to your alarm and immediately drowning in responsibilities, you woke up to her texts.

chaos incarnate: WAKE UP chaos incarnate: pres, you better not be ignoring me chaos incarnate: hello?? chaos incarnate: fine. i’m calling you.

And then, not even a second later, your phone would start ringing.

You groaned, answering it without opening your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

You sighed, rolling over. “It’s four a.m.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

You hated how easily she did that.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“And? That was a whole eight hours ago.”

You groaned again, but this time, you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your lips.

The entire school knew about you two.

Not because you told anyone, but because she made it impossible not to know.

She’d sling an arm over your shoulder in the halls, leaning in obnoxiously close just to see you flustered.

She’d steal your lunch, even if she had her own, just to make you roll your eyes and huff at her—because, according to her, you looked cute when you were annoyed.

She’d sit in on student council meetings—uninvited—kicking her feet up on the table like she belonged there, just to watch you glare at her.

And if anyone so much as looked at you for too long?

She’d pull you closer, smirking as she draped herself over you and drawled, “Mine.”

You pretended to be exasperated by it all.

You weren’t.

One second, she was smirking at you from across the room, her gaze sharp, teasing, full of something wild you could never quite pin down. The next, she was leaning against your desk, spinning a pen between her fingers as she sighed dramatically about how boring the student council meetings were, just to get a reaction out of you.

And sometimes—when no one else was around—she’d be quiet. Soft. Like a storm that had momentarily calmed, if only for you.

It was confusing. It was frustrating.

But it was also thrilling.

You never knew what she’d do next, but somehow, you always ended up right there with her.

“We’re skipping.”

You blinked up at her from your pile of papers. “What?”

She grinned, already grabbing your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. “I said, we’re skipping. Come on.”

You pulled back instinctively. “I can’t. I have to finish—”

“Boring,” she cut in, rolling her eyes. “You work too much. If you spend one more hour staring at those papers, you’ll turn into one.”

You crossed your arms. “And you get into trouble too much.”

She smirked. “Yeah? And yet, here you are, still standing next to me.”

You sighed, but the fight was already slipping out of you. With her, it always did.

She took advantage of your hesitation, intertwining her fingers with yours, and your heart definitely didn’t just stutter in your chest.

“Come on,” she murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “Just for a little while?”

And just like that, you were done for.

The two of you ended up on the rooftop, the one place where no one ever checked.

She sat on the ledge, legs swinging slightly, looking up at the sky like she had never seen it before.

For a moment, she was quiet. Contemplative.

Then, without looking at you, she spoke.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever stuck around.”

The words were soft, but something about them hit harder than anything she had ever said before.

You swallowed, watching her carefully. “You don’t make it easy.”

She laughed, a little breathless. “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way you never expected.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against hers where they rested on the ledge.

She went completely still.

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but she caught your hand before you could.

Her grip was tight—like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“You drive me crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, and you worry too much, and you never break the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

She huffed, exasperated, before turning to face you fully.

And then—before you could react—she leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuited.

She pulled back, smirking at your stunned expression, but there was something warm in her eyes, something real.

“You’re mine now,” she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You opened your mouth—probably to protest, maybe to demand an explanation—but she just squeezed your hand again, tilting her head at you.

“…Unless you don’t want to be.”

You swallowed, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

And then, slowly, you laced your fingers through hers properly, squeezing back.

“…I think I do.”

Her smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“Good,” she murmured.

— Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t sure when this became normal.

When tutoring sessions turned into something more—into lingering glances across textbooks, into stolen moments between classes, into a relationship that neither of you ever really talked about, but both of you knew was real.

It had started with her grumbling about the stupid school system, about how she didn’t need to study when she had “better things to do.” But now? Now, she was here—on time, every time, sitting across from you with a scowl like she hadn’t just walked across campus grinning at you like an idiot when she thought no one was looking.

She had changed.

Or maybe she hadn’t, and you were just seeing her differently now.

Either way, she was yours.

And that was enough.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, realizing that, yes, you were staring, and, yes, she was very much aware of it.

“I’m not,” you lied.

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you flipped the page in five minutes?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

Damn it.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t take you for the distracted type, tutor.”

You sighed, closing the book. “Maybe if you actually studied, I wouldn’t have to get distracted.”

She scoffed, leaning back. “I do study.”

You gave her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I study when you make me.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching you in that way that always made your stomach do something weird.

“Why do you even put up with me?” she asked.

The question caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because she sounded genuinely curious.

Like she didn’t understand why you were still here.

Like she didn’t realize how easy it was to love her.

You frowned. “Because I want to.”

She stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then, suddenly, she reached across the table, grabbing your hand.

It wasn’t gentle.

It never was with her.

But her grip was warm, steady, real.

“…Good,” she muttered, squeezing your fingers once before pulling away. “You’re stuck with me, anyway.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dating her meant learning to navigate her world.

The world of bruised knuckles and reckless grins, of sharp words and sharper instincts, of someone who had spent so long fighting that she didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t mind.

She never hurt you—not really.

But sometimes, she’d show up to your study sessions with a fresh cut on her cheek, or a bandage wrapped around her hand, or a bruise blooming on her jaw, and every time, you’d sigh, pulling out your first aid kit without saying a word.

She hated it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

She huffed but didn’t pull away, letting you press a cotton pad to her cheek, wincing when the antiseptic stung.

“Idiot,” you muttered, brushing your thumb over her skin after you were done.

She smirked. “You love me.”

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured side of her face.

She tensed for half a second before melting into it, her fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place like she never wanted you to leave.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

There were other parts of her world, too.

Parts that had nothing to do with fights or scraped knuckles.

Like how she always walked you home, no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to.

Or how she’d steal your pens just to hear you complain about it, only to return them later with a smug grin.

Or how she’d grumble about studying, but when you fell asleep next to her, she’d pull a blanket over you without saying a word.

Or how she’d stay, even when she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the best with words.

But she didn’t need to be.

Not when she loved you like this.

“Hey,” she called one day, leaning against your locker.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted, suddenly looking a little… awkward.

Which was weird, because she was never awkward.

You frowned. “Are you—”

“I got you something,” she blurted out.

You blinked. “You what?”

She huffed, shoving something into your hands.

It was… a necklace. Simple, understated. Something you would actually wear.

You stared at it, then at her.

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Because I wanted to.”

You looked down at it again, running your fingers over the chain.

It was nice.

And it was from her.

Your heart did that weird thing again.

“…Put it on me?” you asked softly, handing it back.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that, before scoffing. “You really like making me do things, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

She muttered something under her breath but moved behind you, fastening the clasp.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered.

“…There,” she murmured.

You turned back to her, letting her see the way you were smiling. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, but her ears were red.

You grinned.

Then, impulsively, you reached up, cupping her face in your hands before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She froze.

“…You absolute menace,” she muttered after a second, her voice half-choked.

You laughed. “You love me.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way she grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as she pulled you down the hall?

That told a very different story.

— Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

The world felt different when he painted you.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened as they traced your features, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly in that absentminded, faraway smile. Or maybe it was the way he became so completely immersed in the moment, like nothing else existed except you, him, and the quiet hum of creation between you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—when you had become his muse, when his hands had memorized the slopes and curves of your expression more intimately than you ever could. But at some point, it became normal to sit in his studio, to let him paint you while the sun spilled golden light across the room.

At some point, it became home.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

You huffed but obeyed, shifting just slightly to get comfortable. “You know, I’m starting to think you just tell me that so I don’t walk away.”

He smirked without looking up. “Would it work?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a fresh stroke of color. "Then I don’t see the problem."

You watched him work, watched the way his fingers moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowing in deep focus.

It was so like him—to get completely lost in his art, in the way he captured emotions in strokes of paint. You weren’t even sure he realized how much he gave away when he worked. The quiet admiration, the unwavering patience, the unspoken tenderness in the way he committed you to canvas.

The thought made warmth curl in your chest.

He loved you.

Even in the moments when he didn’t say it outright, you felt it.

“…You’re staring,” he noted after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

You smirked. "So?"

"So," he mused, dabbing a final stroke onto the canvas before finally looking at you, "stay still."

You scoffed but didn’t argue.

His gaze lingered, studying you like he was committing every detail to memory.

Then, suddenly, he set the brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing up and making his way toward you.

Your brows furrowed. "Are we done?"

He hummed, stopping right in front of you. "Almost."

Before you could question him, he reached out, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek.

You blinked.

“…Did you just wipe paint on me?”

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

Your jaw dropped. "You menace—"

He laughed, grabbing your hands before you could retaliate. "It’s barely anything!"

"You smudged me!"

"You’ll live."

You gasped dramatically. “I can feel it on my face—”

"Would you like me to fix it?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How?"

He smiled. "Like this."

And then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, right where the paint had been.

You froze.

Your heart stumbled over itself, warmth blooming beneath your skin.

"...That doesn’t count as fixing it," you mumbled, embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, fond.

"I disagree."

Loving him meant understanding the way he saw the world.

The way his hands itched to create, to turn fleeting emotions into something tangible.

The way he’d go silent for long stretches, caught up in his own thoughts, before suddenly dragging you into his latest project with that spark of inspiration in his eyes.

The way he loved you—not just with words, but in the way he painted you, over and over again, like he was trying to keep you forever.

And maybe, in his own way, he was.

One night, long after the city had gone quiet, you found yourself back in his studio, curled up on the couch while he worked.

You weren’t posing this time.

You were just there, watching as he sketched in his notebook, his focus unwavering even as the hours slipped by.

“…Do you ever get tired of painting me?” you asked suddenly.

He paused, looking up at you.

Then, without hesitation—"Never."

You stared at him. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

"It is obvious," he said simply, setting his notebook aside as he moved toward you.

You let him sit beside you, watching as he reached for your hand, tracing absentminded patterns along your fingers.

“…There are infinite things in the world to paint,” he murmured, his touch feather-light, reverent. “Landscapes, emotions, stories… But you?” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. "You are my favorite."

Your breath caught.

You weren’t used to this—to his quiet, devastating sincerity.

He didn’t always say how he felt outright. He spoke in colors, in soft touches, in lingering glances over paint-stained canvases.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling your face grow warm.

He smirked. “And you love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Instead, you tugged him closer, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just existed—wrapped in warmth, in paint-stained fingertips and whispered affections between the silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

— Bestfriend!jayce

There were moments where you still couldn’t believe this was real.

That after years of laughter, inside jokes, stolen hoodies, and whispered dreams of the future, you had ended up here—curled up next to him, his arm lazily draped around you, as if this had been inevitable from the very start.

In a way, maybe it was.

Loving him never felt like a sudden thing, never like some grand revelation that struck you out of nowhere. It had crept in slowly, weaving itself between every late-night conversation, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted just a little longer than it needed to.

And now? Now it was second nature.

He was yours.

And you were his.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

He smirked without looking up from his book. “The thing where you stare at me like I put the stars in the sky.”

You scoffed, shoving him playfully. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention toward you. “Not denying it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or judging you.”

“Doubt it.”

You sighed, dramatic. “God, dating you is exhausting.”

“Right?” he teased. “Can’t believe you fell for me.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Can’t believe I did, either.”

His expression softened at that, his teasing smile melting into something fonder.

Then, suddenly, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before letting his fingers trail down, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“…Lucky me,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just sat there, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, your heart stumbling over itself at the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something rare.

Like he had been waiting his whole life for you.

“…You’re such a sap,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. “Only for you.”

The thing about dating your best friend was that nothing really changed.

Not in the way you expected, at least.

There were still late-night fast food runs, still study sessions that turned into existential conversations, still a constant presence at your side whenever you needed him (and even when you didn’t).

But there were differences, too.

Like how he held your hand without hesitation now, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Or how he hugged you longer, pressing his face into your shoulder like he needed to be close to you.

Or how he kissed your forehead absentmindedly whenever you did something that made him proud, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Or how he whispered, "Love you," so casually, like he had always been saying it.

Like he always would.

“Okay, real talk,” he said one night, sprawled across your bed like he owned it.

You hummed, flipping a page in your book. “Mm?”

“If we weren’t dating, would you still have a crush on me?”

You blinked, giving him an unimpressed look. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.”

You sighed, setting your book down. “We are dating.”

“But if we weren’t,” he pressed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would you still be into me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

Then, with a smirk, you shrugged. “Dunno. You’re kinda annoying.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“But,” you continued, reaching over to poke his cheek, “I’d probably be in love with you anyway.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hopelessly in love.”

You groaned. “Why do I even like you?”

He laughed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“…Because we were always meant to end up here.”

Your breath hitched.

The words were simple, said so casually, but they settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through your entire being.

Because he was right.

Every moment, every choice, every little thing that led to this—it had always been leading you here.

To him.

To this.

To something more than forever.

— Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

It still surprised you sometimes—how things had changed.

How the cold rivalry that once existed between you had melted into something warm, something constant, something that made your chest tighten in the best way whenever you so much as thought about it.

About him.

Once upon a time, you and him had been at odds with each other, a battle of sharp words and stubborn ideals. He was relentless, fiercely determined, a mind constantly working ten steps ahead. And you—well, you were the opposite. Passionate, chaotic, diving headfirst into the unknown with little concern for anything but discovery.

But now?

Now he was yours.

And God, you loved him.

“Stop working,” you whined, dramatically flopping onto his desk.

He barely spared you a glance, eyes still locked onto the notebook in front of him. “Can’t.”

“You always say that,” you huffed, watching as he furiously jotted down another equation, his pen moving like it had a will of its own.

“Because it’s always true,” he shot back, voice carrying that familiar unwavering certainty.

You rolled your eyes. “Five-minute break.”

“No.”

“Two minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, tilting your head at him. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t take two minutes to—” You peered at his notes and blinked. “Wait. Is this…” You trailed off, recognizing the layout of a physics equation, the bold scrawl of hypotheses scattered between calculations.

He finally glanced at you, the sharp glint of his focus not dulled in the slightest. “I had a thought earlier and needed to get it down.”

You stared at him. “You had a thought so urgent that you couldn’t even pause for two seconds?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re crazy”

“And you’re distracting.”

“You love me, though.”

A flicker of something softened his expression. He didn’t answer immediately, just studied you with those impossibly sharp eyes, the ones that always seemed to be unraveling the mysteries of the universe—except, in that moment, they were solely on you.

“Yeah,” he murmured eventually, the intensity of it making your breath catch. “I do.”

It was rare, hearing it outright like that. He wasn’t one for grand proclamations, but when he did speak—when he let himself be honest—it always hit you like a tidal wave.

You swallowed, warmth pooling in your chest. “Then take a break.”

He sighed, exasperated but amused. Then, to your utter delight, he set his pen down.

“Two minutes,” he relented.

You grinned, holding out your arms. “Hug me.”

He stared. “…Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, like he was analyzing the request for its deeper meaning. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pulled you against him.

You melted instantly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms were strong, steady—the kind of embrace that felt unshakable, like he would hold the entire world together if it meant keeping you safe.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded against him. “Much.”

His fingers lingered at your back, just the faintest trace of hesitation before he fully gave in, relaxing into the embrace.

And neither of you let go.

Dating him had been an adjustment.

He wasn’t the kind to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was driven, always looking forward, always chasing after the next big thing. His brain never stopped, his heart never wavered, his ambition burning like an unstoppable fire.

Which meant he showed affection in his own way.

Like the way he never actually said I love you, but instead muttered things like, don’t forget to eat or stay inside, it’s cold.

Like the way he pretended to be annoyed when you interrupted his work, only to immediately pull you back when you tried to leave.

Like the way he sighed every time you teased him, only to let you lace your fingers with his under desks, his grip never faltering.

And the thing was?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One evening, you were in the library together, him completely immersed in his research while you doodled aimlessly in your notebook.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that had become second nature between you.

Then, suddenly—

“…You make me reckless.”

You blinked. “Uh. Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You make me reckless,” he repeated, almost contemplative. “It’s irritating.”

You squinted at him. “Are you… saying you love me?”

He hummed. “Statistically, it would be hard to deny.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. “Oh my God.”

He finally looked up, arching a brow. “What?”

“You just confessed your love for me like it was a scientific fact.”

“…And?”

You let out a laugh, completely endeared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed. If anything, there was something fond in the way he regarded you, something soft in the way he reached out, tapping his fingers against your wrist.

“…You already knew,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

Because of course you knew.

You had known for a long time now.

But hearing it—even in his own, methodical way—still sent warmth flooding through your entire being.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I did.”

And if he squeezed your hand just a little tighter?

Well.

You didn’t mention it.

[sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame]

*Angrily looks around* ok so we're not writing more werewolf Valeria???? Fucking fine I'll do it myself

En Sus Marcus Part 1/?

Part 2

Summary: Valeria hunts you through the woods, fucks the shit out of you. Congratulations you won and you're her pet housewife now <3

2nd person omniscient, black reader, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, no actual smut in this chapter but still sexy as fuck, kinda dubcon, but reader's DEF into it, bimbo reader, reader's dumb as shit y'all. That being said I could see myself doing similar, dom Valeria, sub reader, predator/prey dynamic, fucky and inaccurate Spanish (corrections greatly appreciated)

This is self indulgent trash and I the humble outdoor cat feasting on the week old chicken wings inside it.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

It was stupid to be out in the forest this late, you knew how stupid it was to be in the forest this late.

You were exhausted. Your boss had worked you to the bone for the last three fucking years and still had the nerve to complain when you used your pto for a single week off to enjoy Halloween—your least busy week of the year—by yourself in a cozy little cabin in the woods.

But you were also stupid. So stupid. And so scared. Your first day in you nearly gave yourself carbon monoxide poisoning when you forgot to open the fireplace hatch. Your second day, you'd left the gas on for an hour and set the smoke alarm off for the second time in three days, and now, your third day in, you saw what looked like a limping dog outside, in the pitch black darkness and your dumbass decided to follow it?

You were cursing yourself out the entire time. Horror movie rule number one was without fail, the black guy dies first. And here you were waltzing into the woods after a random animal that you full well could've hallucinated.

But you didn't. You know you didn't. And while that dog was huge, if it was willing to come that close to the house it had to have been someone's pet. Even if it was a wolf dog or something it was obvious it had been abandoned. You weren't a vet, but it seemed way too alert and aware of how you stood by the door. You'd seen YouTube videos of how animals with rabies acted. They were haunting, but the dog didn't move like that. Aside from a slight limp its head still darted in your direction when it spotted you peeking out the giant glass door into the backyard. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth when it heard you call after it for godsake.

You couldn't explain why or how, and you hoped it wouldn't attack you because explaining why you left the house to medical professionals would make you feel like the biggest wet noodle known to man, but it looked like it wanted you to come closer. So you did.

You walked towards it slowly, making sure to avoid eye contact and making yourself look too big or too small, trying to remember the "if it's black fight back, if it's brown get down" rule and whether or not that only applied to bears. You managed to close enough distance between the two of you that you could shine your phone's weak flashlight on the creature to check if there was any blood on it.

Thankfully there wasn't, not so thankfully it got up, and calmly walked further into the woods, turning its head back every few steps to stare at you pathetically.

At this point, maybe if you hadn't finished half a bottle of pink moscato, you would've recognized that it was probably just politely asking you to back off. In the way an animal does when it does not want to fight. But sadly, you had. And the wolf wasn't staring at you like it was trying to avoid a fight, It was staring at you like how dogs stare at people in those probably faked rescue videos where they lead the cameraman to a den full of newborn puppies.

You didn't know what was wrong with this animal but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep at night if you didn't make sure. And you didn't know that there were multiple hotlines in the area you could call instead of risking both of your lives.

It kept looking back at you, tail flat between its legs, ears pinned back, what could only be considered a giant dopey looking smile on its face as you trailed behind it for long enough that your feet started to hurt despite the hiking boots you'd thrown on before leaving the house.

You were freezing sadly because it was the sole practical element of your outfit.

You were in a lacy pink silk nightie that stopped just at your thigh. Thick brown thighs jiggling a little with each step. If you'd bent over, the wolf could've gotten a nice and pleasant view of your pussy peaking out from underneath the fabric cause you never went to bed with panties on. You could've run to pick some up but you didn't want to chance that the animal would be gone by the time you got back with no proof of if it even existed.

Your phone battery was low. Not dangerously so, but enough that it made you really stupid for going out without your little pink portable charger.

But it was such a stupid spontaneous decision. One you'd spend the rest of your life paying for.

You froze when the wolf darted out of sight suddenly. So fast you didn't have time to point your light towards the direction it ran, it was gone before your eyes had caught up to your ears and processed the rustling of leaves trailing off into the distance.

And now you were painfully aware of the fact that you were alone in the woods. And you had no idea how far you'd gone off the path. And that even if it had stayed, the injured animal probably couldn't offer you much help against a bear, or worse, a man with a gun.

You started shivering, the crisp fall air was delightful in the early mornings, but the sun set at 5pm that day and it was in the high forties now. You weren't even wearing a little sweater to keep your arms warm.

Valeria noticed.

She hadn't actually been injured. She wasn't even limping believe it or not, you just weren't wearing your glasses and couldn't tell that she was walking normally. Let alone that she was much much bigger than a wolf dog.

You smelled divine with your pumpkin spice body oil and the cheap wine clinging to your lips.

Valeria was here for fun too. She owned these woods. And everything in them. She was stunned that you hadn't noticed how deadly silent your romantic evening walk had been. There were so many signs this was a trap.

It wasn't at first, of course. She rented the cabin out. She liked to see who stayed in her home away from home when she wasn't there. What they smelled like. Tasted like. If they looked fun to hunt. But then there you were. Standing outside in your pretty pink dress, her favorite color glowing against your skin and making you look like a goddess underneath the light of the moon. Normally she'd have left you alone. She'd always had a soft spot for pretty girls. But you looked and smelled so divine she just had to get closer. And closer. And closer.

She realized you'd spotted her the moment she realized you were her mate.

She could've shat herself she was so scared. The elation from finding her mate and complete dread at the fact that you were so gullible consumed her with every step you took further into the forest.

She'd have to teach you a lesson.

With all the spoiling she was gonna do to you, you'd probably get bratty. She'd have to teach you many more. She wasn't complaining.

But for now, you needed to learn why you don't follow strange animals into the woods.

And you needed to learn that you were hers. Quickly.

You looked around erratically. On the verge of tears. She could hear your little heartbeat racing.

That's when she decided to shift back.

"Excuse me, are you alright?" She nearly convinced herself she meant it.

You jolted around and immediately started bawling. She wrapped her arms around you, pressing you to her bare chest.

"Hey, it's alright. Can you tell me what happened, princesa?

You nodded, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've just been so stressed at work and there was this dog—I think it was a wolf dog, and she's hurt and she's definitely someone's pet and she looked like she was leading me to her puppies and I got worried cause if she was willing to lead me there, that means she'd be willing to lead someone dangerous there, so I followed her and we went too deep into the woods and I'm on vacation, I don't know these woods, I'm from L.A.!"

She nodded along, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Pobrecita. You just need someone to protect you, huh?"

You froze. Suddenly and painfully aware of the fact that your head was pressed directly into the bare tits of another woman. You were far from displeased and it wasn't the first time, but still, why in the flying fuck would there be a woman in the woods even more naked than you were?

"Um, ma'am, why are you naked?"

She tossed her head back laughing.

"Ay, que rico, la niña que no lleva nada más que su lencería quiere saber por qué estoy desnuda."

You were kicking yourself mentally at the fact that you hadn't been more serious about learning Spanish all these years. That little green owl was going to kill you if this weird ass woman didn't do the job for him.

"I'm sorry?" Was all you said instead, trying to make your way out of her embrace.

It didn't work. She did let you wiggle around enough that you could crane your neck to look up at her, however, and by god were you grateful. Big pretty brown eyes, hair the perfect length to tug on while she ate you out, an aquiline nose. And the most beautiful, wolfish smile you could ever imagine.

She was the kind of woman that'd make you leave a room just to avoid embarrassing yourself in front of her.

You immediately felt guilty for sexualizing her despite the fact that she was naked and had pressed your face into her tits two seconds ago.

"Shit, you're not doing so hot either, huh? Do you wanna go back to where I'm staying and get some hot chocolate, maybe a shower? Alone! Of course! I can call anyone if you need help too! Oh wait I forgot I had my phone! I can just call the sheriff or something—" she grabbed your phone out of your hands and threw it off into the woods.

You were silent for an embarrassingly long time.

"What the fuck dude." You said it so quietly and calmly Valeria couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't worry. I'll remember where it went in the morning."

You tried with a lot more fervor to put yourself far out of arms reach from the woman, failing every time. She didn't even have to exert a large amount of strength to pin you to her. You didn't let it stop you, but you knew, you wouldn't be moving unless she let you.

She let her long, sharp—sharper than they should be, you had a fresh set of stilettos, they were not that sharp—nails graze your skin just slightly. A warning. You weren't dumb enough to miss that.

"Stop. Moving." Something was wrong. She growled at you. You'd been growled at before in bed by exes, they didn't sound like that. She sounded like she was barely able to form the words. Like she was twisting her vocal cords around to make sense of the random sounds and syncopations that just so happened to make your little pussy drool.

"Here's what's going to happen, princesa. I'm going to give you..." she leaned in to sniff at your bonnet, shivering and pressing her mouth to your forehead, letting out a moan as her hand snaked down your waist to rub at your ass, just above where your nightgown had already ridden up more than dangerously high. "Ten seconds."

"...Ten seconds to what?"

You could feel her grin grow unnaturally wide against you.

"To run."

This time you shivered. This poor woman was crazy and in need of help and here you were getting off to her delusions. What a creep.

"And then when I catch you, I'm going to breed that wet little pussy. I'm going to take you home. And I'm going to fill you up some more, sólo para asegurarme de que funciona."

You were having a hard time breathing. Her voice was so low and even. Her fingers danced at the hem of your dress and as awful as it was you didn't even want to run. You wanted her to snake her fingers just a bit lower and breed you here. You needed her fingers, her cock, her mouth, whatever she'd give you. You could feel your own cum pooling down your thighs which had literally never happened to you before. She was causing chemical reactions in your body you weren't sure had been previously seen within the human race.

She huffed, smiling a bit.

"Oh! Someone's excited."

You whimpered a bit, at the sensation of her claws digging into the fat of your ass.

"Let's get something straight, princesa. If you don't run properly," she pressed you even closer to her, "if you don't make the chase fun," she trailed her nose down the side of your face, pressing you impossibly close. Her grip so tight it was starting to actually hurt, "then I'll kill you."

You laughed a little bit, or tried to. Wheezed would be more accurate.

"Oh, I'm not kidding. Tengo que demostrar que serás una buena compañera, nena. Que te aseguraras de que tus hijas sean fuertes."

Valeria was of course, lying. But you didn't know that. You didn't know that she'd make sure your kids would grow up nice and strong and much much smarter than their ditsy mother was the day they first met.

"You ready, coñejita?" Her grip loosened slightly, and you immediately took your chance to bite her on the neck. Hard. Hoping she'd let go completely and you'd be able to run back to your cabin and use the ancient house phone before she cut the lines or something.

She didn't though, she just frowned. But you could see the edges of her lips fighting to twitch up into her normal Cheshire grin.

"I didn't say it was time to start running, coñejita."

She grabbed your jaw and tilted your head to the side, trailing her sharp teeth down your neck. You felt like they were cutting skin but her hot breath soothed the ache the second it started.

"En su marca."

She grabbed your ass so hard you could feel the chill night air on your dripping cunt.

"Lista."

She pressed a kiss to your neck with a gentleness you wouldn't have guessed she'd be capable of.

"Fuera."

You knew what it meant but she still didn't let go. She wanted you to feel it through your body when the chase had really begun.

She whispered into you ear, teasingly. Joyfully. An excited impatience emanating from her voice.

"Run."

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

I am OBSESSED with mean!Jason Todd. I just imagine him saving you from doing something he thinks is really stupid, like walking alone in Gotham after dark and then just being downright mean about it after he takes you home. Unf. Obsessed.

EJEUGDAKAM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH OVER THIS OMG♥️♥️♥️ tysm for the request!

Mean! Jason Todd (Part 2)

Sensitive Subjects: Smut, anal (kinda blurring the lines of noncon...?), a probably toxic situationship

Mean! Jason Todd who has some weird situationship with you. After you hooked up the first time, it just kinda kept going. Do you love him? You aren't sure. Does he love you? Probably not, but he gets possessive as hell regardless.

"What was that shit about?" He took you to a bar before coming back to his apartment once before it became a regular occurance. His face was twisted into that usual scowl and broad arms crossed over his chest. But, oh, how that look gave you some butterflies.

"Him?" You glance over at the guy you'd previously been chatting with a few moments ago through the loud, crowded bar. "He's just a friend." Of course you were telling the truth: the sex with Jason was just too good to pass up by sleeping with somebody else or getting into a serious relationship.

"My ass." An immediate scoff was his biggest reaction. And, to be fair, that's probably the least jealous thing you could've gotten out of him: the guy could've ended up beaten to a pulp on the sidewalk if Jason saw fit. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Mean! Jason Todd who didn't know you worked the late shift at said bar and thought you were just blowing him off for some other guy when you said you were busy. So, when he saw you walking home from your shift down the shady alleys of Gotham nearing 2 AM, he was pissed.

A quick, forceful grab is all you could feel as a broad, muscled figure approached from behind. There wasn't much you could even do other than thrash and claw at his biceps. "Quit your fucking squirming!" Wait, Jason?

Your head was barely able to turn and place him into view, but, surprisingly, you weren't being kidnapped and it was just your situationship. "What the hell are you doing?" His grip loosens slightly after a moment, allowing you to push yourself away from his chest and arms and back down to your feet.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you know what could happen walking out here this late?" Jason is practically screaming at this point, the sound reverberating off the brick walls of shady Gotham apartments. "Or are you trying to get yourself kidnapped?"

Mean! Jason Todd who practically drags you back to his apartment after, absolutely seething with anger and... Worry? No. You wouldn't dare call it that. Not yet, anyway... Maybe something closer to a jealousy. Maybe he was just still jealous of some hypothetical guy you didn't even have plans with.

"What the actual hell did you think you were doing? Do you know how unsafe it is to be walking near Crime Alley at night?" The door is immediately slammed behind him when he takes you back to his apartment. "Look, if you're blowing me off for some other guy, that's fine. But if you're seriously dumb enough to think that I would be okay with you out by yourself regardless, you need to think again."

"Jay, I was just coming home from-" You start, putting down your work bag on his crappy coffee table like you usually do.

"No, don't give me that shit. You were coming home from a little boy toy's place, weren't you?" He's already on his way to grab the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet next to his fridge. "Should've known you'd be just as much of a slut as she was. Hell, a dumb one at that."

Mean! Jason Todd who doesn't even feel bad as he sees you get a little misty eyed. Or maybe he does... It ws really hard to tell when you could barely see through the tears welling up in your beautiful eyes.

Mean! Jason Todd who really ends up getting on your nerves after the first half hour of arguing. There was nowhere to back away to when he came up and towered over you in his dingy, quiet apartment. And so, you did what you could.

"Oh yeah? Well maybe if that greedy little cunt of yours wasn't begging for attention-" Jason wasn't even yelling anymore. In fact, he'd resorted to slut shaming you only ten minutes into the fight.

And then, a loud slap. Your hand stung. A lot. So did his face, probably. And before you could even think about how to apologize or get yourself out of the situation, Jason is picking you up, hauling you over his shoulder, and carrying you to his bedroom.

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely tortures you as soon as you're in his bedroom. Sure, you'd both had some pretty rough sex before, but he's never been quite as unhinged as he is right now.

"Look at this cunt..." A light slap to your bare clit as he kneels between your legs. "So fucking wet... You're already dripping." Jason cant help but let out a light scoff. In all honesty, it was probably closer to a sadistic laugh. "Is this all for me, or is it just some other guy's leftovers?"

Mean! Jason Todd who knows for a fact that you're not a huge fan of anal. So, even if you did sleep with somebody else (which he's starting to realize wasn't the case), then at least that tight little hole would be unused.

You couldn't help but shiver slightly as you felt him rub the cold lube on your tight, unused hole. At least he had the 'kindness' to get you all wet before trying to bully his thick, long cock into you. "Jay, I can't-"

"Really? You 'can't'?" He actually laughs at you this time as he slides his thick, dripping tip between your cheeks. "Maybe you should've thought of that before going to get some other guy's dick wet."

Mean! Jason Todd who decides to make you forget every other guy you could possibly think of by pulling as many orgasms out of you as possible. You literally have to beg him to stop by the end of it. Your clit feels like its on fire and you can barely move your legs, but, God, that was probably the best sex you'd ever have.

Mean! Jason Todd who, despite how upset he wants to be with you, is absolutely smothering you with aftercare. He's always made sure that you're alright after hooking up, but this time was just a little more... Passionate?

Your thighs burned. Your hips burned. Even the core of your abdomen felt like it was on fire. But when that cool, damp cloth made contact with your sticky, sweat-sheened skin, it felt like heaven.

"Quit moving..." He mutters as he gently wipes away both of your sticky arousal from between your thighs. "I have you. You're alright... Just let me clean you up and we can sleep or get food, alright? Whatever you want, sweetheart."

Mean! Jason Todd who, by the end of the night, realizes that you didn't sleep with anybody else and just feels so much more at peace. It doesn't matter that you two are simply hooking up and non-exclusive. It doesn't matter that this all started because one of your friends cheated on him. What mattered was that your pretty little cunt and ass were all his for as long as possible (totally not that you were safe and he didn't have to worry about being replaced).

Masterlist

[undisclosedproxy]

Possessive, obsessive, aggressive T.R T.N M.R

Summary: This will be a continued little series i will be writing. It’s an au on how Y/N has moved into a house with Theodore, Mattheo and Tom after they finished their schooling at hogwarts.(p.s this is kinda just an intro so give me suggestion on scenarios i should do!!) (My inspo is from this girl who made an Au called “new girl” or smth, if u see this girl ilysm) These three boys are all madly in love with her and they aren’t afraid to show it in all ways necessary, and Y/N? well she doesn’t mind being shared.

The soft wind of the morning sunrise blew through Y/N’s open window, causing her to slowly open her eyes with a soft groan at the change in temperature. One minute she had been cozy and warm, the next she was freezing. There had been a massive party last night at their usual homely manor; she could barely remember anything except dancing, sex, and drinking. Her head throbbed with pain as she slowly sat up, her body aching and her mind spinning. Her tired eyes scanned the room, feeling relieved when everything was clean, as usual. She sighed as she tried to run her fingers through her hair, only to meet large, painful knots. She couldn’t be bothered to deal with this yet; the sun hadn’t even risen, so she didn’t have to either. Y/N fell back onto her soft bed with a thump.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard loud pots and pans clattering downstairs. She knew instantly who it was—Tom. Why is this guy always so nonchalant, doing the most random things? She forced her tired body out of bed and practically dragged herself and her rats nest of hair to the kitchen, where he was currently attempting to clean the basically trashed manor.

”You’re awake.” he said dryly, his face as still and emotionless as usual.

Y/N’s brows furrowed in annoyance as she watched him clean up cups and trash from their sleek counters. He was dressed in his usual day attire—neither too casual nor too formal. Y/N always wondered how he was always so put together and organized. It was one of the reasons she adored him so much. He had been there for her when she felt like her life was falling apart, helping her piece it back together.

”You’re loud.” Y/N responded back with the same dry tone in her voice.

“Well I do sincerely apologise I have cleaning to do. You imbeciles trashed the manor.” Tom said in his monotone voice as he stood up straight to look Y/N in the eyes.

“Please just be quieter..” Y/N murmured as she flopped onto the large couch, Tom watched her from behind the counter, times like this is when he really enjoys the open concept of the manor, he can watch her do everything.

”I. am. sorry.” He said in a forced voice, Tom doesn’t apologise, he’s never apologised to anyone, expect Y/N. He has a special place for her in his heart, they all do, hence they all moved in together.

”mph” she murmured back already half asleep on the couch.

Tom walked over to the cupboard with long strides and grabbed a lancet from the top shelf and draped it over Y/N and kissed her forehead and let her rest.

2 and a half hours later

”Are you serious? you’re kicking me out?” An annoying loud female voice screeched from upstairs as her loud thumping stomps could be heard throughout the whole home.

”Not even a good morning? or making me breakfast?” she yelled angrily, obviously still pretty under the influence of the copious amounts of alcohol and drugs she did last night.

“Morni-” Mattheo started with a yawn as he came downstairs to a sleeping Y/N and a grumpy Tom.

”Shut up.” Tom huffed cutting him off.

”Why so angry dearest brother? You didn’t get any pussy last night?” Mattheo asked obviously just trying to get under Toms skin as much as he can.

”I do not indulge in those ludicrous activities you and Nott get into.” Tom said shoving a paper plate of a food that was unrecognisable into the trash bag he was holding, a grim look plastered onto his face.

”Speaking of those ludicrous activities, what is that god awful screeching emitting from Theodores quarters.” Tom said looking around in disgust as he assessed the progress of cleaning he had done.

”I have no idea what you just said.” Mattheo said standing in the middle of the open kitchen and living room awkwardly as he stared blankly at his brother.

”What? Are you-? Forget it. Go tell them to close their mouths, they’ll wake up Y/N.” Tom said glancing over Y/Ns sleeping figure that somehow hasn’t awakened from the squealing. Mattheo’s gaze softened at the sight, he was about to go upstairs but was interrupted.

“FUCK YOU THEODORE NOTT!” The girl screamed, finally shes revealed herself, she ran down the stairs wearing just a skimpy red thong as she bundled up her dark blue dress to her chest to cover her and use the last bit of decency she was holding on to.

Tom and Mattheo watched as the girl ran out of the manor angrily, still muttering rude words directed to Theodore. Theodore’s foot steps got louder as he came down the stairs quickly, he was wearing just boxers obviously he had an eventful night. He opened the door forcefully and threw her heels at her accidentally hitting her straight in the head.

”OUCH!” She screeched from outside.

Theodore sighed as he locked the door with a quick motion. He turned to everyone else, an amused and tired Mattheo, a grumpy Tom and a just woken up, confused Y/N.

”What?” Theodore asked confused as he stared blankly back at everyone.

[slytherinsimp12]

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱 , 𝓹𝓽-2 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: The day after you and James share a kiss, he invited you to watch him play quidditch. You get jealous seeing him with another girl. You meet his friend group. Things don’t end well.

Warnings: Lily is mentioned as James’ friend for the sake of reader x james,( I love jily), Cursing , Rude Sirius, Angst towards the end.

Author’s note: Hi cuties xx. I hope you enjoy pt.2. I’ll be posting pt.3 soon. Feel free to leave comments or send requests if you have any suggestions/improvements/ ideas for this pt and pt-3. Follow me to keep up the updates. <3.

Part 3 (finale) uploaded!

Part 1 and Part 3

————————————X————————————

You woke up to the sound of your dorm mates bubbling over today’s quidditch match. Your head was throbbing with pain; you barely got any sleep last night. Then it all came crashing back to you, the late night stroll that lead to your kiss with James Potter. Bloody hell. Did it really happen? Or was it just an extremely vivid dream. Dubious about the accuracy of your memory, you got up and quickly got dressed , and headed to breakfast.

The great hall was filled with the chatter of excited students; they were all raving about today’s match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Well that explains the dung bombs last night.

Your palms were sweating with nerves, you were so not ready to see him yet.

Right on cue, you spotted James sitting with his friends, and stuffing his face with food.

“I’ve got to fuel up for the match. D’you think having this amazing body was easy?” James gloated coyly.

Your stomach filled with butterflies, how pathetic. There James was, an arrogant git, attacking his food like there was no tomorrow. Yet, you couldn’t help let out a small smile.

“Y/n!” James shouted across the hall.

Your face flushed red out of embarrassment. You tried looking away , but it was too late. James jogged over to you.

“Hey pretty.” He smirked.

“Hi.” You said plainly.

“So, today is the quidditch match. You coming to see me play?” He grinned.

“Uh… I don’t know. I’m not really a sports kinda person.” You told.

“Oh come on, just come to see the legendary James Potter in action, love.” He pleaded.

Merlin, how could someone be so obnoxious yet so charming.

“Tone it down a notch, ‘prongs’. “ You teased, making air quotes.

“I’ll see if I can come, i’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on.” You continued, walking away before he could reply.

The encounter left your stomach rumbling. Thanks to that idiot James, you couldn’t even think about keeping down any food right now.

You hated how James left you feeling. You didn’t like anticipating your face in a red flush, you didn’t like seeing double vision in a rose blush, and most of all, you didn’t like feeling vulnerable by the mere presence of someone, let alone a boy. A boy that half the school is in love with.

Going to the quidditch match was a bad idea, letting James in was a bad idea, it went against everything you told yourself from your very start of Hogwarts. Yet, you found yourself doing exactly that.

You decided you could spare a few minutes to watch the quidditch match. You gaslit yourself into believing you were going for the sake of ‘enjoying and learning the sport’, and not for James. You made your way into the Y/H stands, trying your best not to be noticed by the messy haired Gryffindor chaser. Although, you hardly doubted he would notice you from 50 feet above.

The match dragged on for 3 whole hours, and you were appalled by the fact that you stayed the whole duration. You watched a handful of matches your whole life, but this one, this one was different. It had something to do with the fact that, James was so effortlessly good at what he did.

Gryffindor won even though Slytherin’s seeker caught the snitch. They were leading by a 100 points, and James had thrown the quaffle into the hoop more than 20 times. Even you knew that the victory was mostly his doing. The Gryffindor team jumped off their brooms, and started jumping with excitement, adrenaline pumping through their veins. You wanted to congratulate James, it was the decent thing to do, right?

As you were walking up to the ground, a red headed girl beat you to him. She hugged him rather intimately, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Your stomach churned. Maybe it was the nausea from not eating or maybe it was seeing that girl being so close to James, you didn’t care. What were you doing? Coming to a quidditch match for the captain of the Gryffindor team? You didn’t expect him to notice you, then why were you so offended when he didn’t? Without thinking, you ran out the filed, wanting nothing more than to forget about the stupid match, the stupid kiss and stupid James fucking potter.

The following night in the library ,you were drowning in a pile of books, struggling to finish all your assignments.

“We need to stop running into each other like this.” A voice whispered into your ear from behind.

“Although, you seem to be more interested in running away from me than into me.” James continued. Well you’d be damned. He did in-fact notice you at the match.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you mumbled, refusing to turn around and look at him.

“C’mon, love. Don’t be coy. Why did you run away like that? Still flustered after last night are we?” He pressed.

“Piss off, Potter.” You spat, trying to walk away.

“Wait! Don’t be like that. Do you want to talk about what happened last night, is that it?” He asked, gripping your wrist, stopping you from walking away.

“No. Clearly you’d rather talk to that red headed girl you were being so ‘friendly’ with earlier. I get it, the kiss was no big deal. It’s cool” You lied.

“No big deal? Ouch.” He said, removing a fake arrow from his heart.

“That red head earlier was Lily Evans. She’s my good mate. Trust me, you do NOT need to worry about Lily, plus I’m certain she’s got a thing for Snivellus.” James explained.

“Snivellus?” You questioned. What is up with him and these stupid nicknames?

“Long story. Anyway, why don’t you join me and the lads in the Gryffindor common room tonight. We’re celebrating the win.” Was James asking you to meet his friends tonight? No way. There was only one person you found more insufferable than James, Sirius freaking Black. He was obviously going to be there.

“Um- I- I have uh… errands-“ you tried to come up with an excuse but James cut you off.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He said, as he winked and disappeared into the dark.

A few hours after dinner, you reluctantly made your way into the Gryffindor common room. Everyone seemed to be asleep. The room was dimly lit, with cosy sofas arranged next to a roaring fire. You spotted James , Sirius, Remus , Peter, Lily and Marlene sprawled in front of the fire place.

You cleared your throat, making your presence aware.

“Y/n! You came!” James greeted, pulling you into a side hug.

After introducing you to the group, James insisted you sat right next to him on the sofa. At some point during the night, his hands found their way to the small of your back, tracing gentle circles on it. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to enjoy yourself. But that didn’t last long.

Sirius insisted on playing a game of Truth or Dare, where he mostly targeted you. You managed to dodge most of the questions, which really pissed Sirius off.

“Ok. Fine. If you’re not going to answer any of the questions, Y/n, why is it that you have no friends? Why do you walk around alone and eat alone all the time like some depressed loser.” Sirius said bluntly.

Heat spread from your ears to your neck. Your face burned with embarrassment. That did it.

“Fuck off , Black.” You flipped him off , as you stormed out of the common room.

“What the hell, mate?” You heard James say.

You were walking so fast it could be considered running.

“Y/n, wait!” James called after you.

You tried to ignore him, but he caught up with you in the corridor because the stupid stair cases decided to move, again.

“Y/n…I’m so sorry. Ignore Sirius. He can be a real dick.” James said.

“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your head up to meet his eyes. They were filled with regret. He probably regretted calling you tonight. What was he thinking? Did he expect his friends to like you? In what world would that be true? You saw how they picked on people like you. How they bullied those different from them. Why did you expect anything else?

“What are you thinking?” James asked, brushing his thumb against your cheek. He was standing extremely close to you again. Practically hovering. Before you could answer, he pulls you in, locking his lips with yours. A sudden warmth spreads through your body. You close your eyes, the subtle pressure of his hands on your waist sending jolts of electricity down your spine. This was wrong. Stop. Pull away. You thought to yourself, but your body wouldn’t comply. You kissed him back with more aggression than you anticipated, running your fingers through his hair. After what felt like an eternity of pure heavenly bliss, James pulled away.

“Should we head back?” He asked.

Then you came back to your senses. Reality was a harsh slap in the face. Deal with it now, so you’re not left wretched later.

“I can’t ,James. I can’t do this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought I could handle your friends, the crowds and the constant attention your around. But, truth be told, I really can’t. It’s all too much for me. You’re too much for me…you’ll probably be fine, maybe even better off without me. This was a big mistake.” You said, gesturing between the two of you.

For the first time in history, James Potter was left speechless. His face was engulfed with hurt. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it was better him than you.

(All rights reserved, ©)

Tag list 💞:

@colouredbyd , @d1lf-loverrr , @dollysh

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 6

// This might be one of my favorite chapters I’ve written so far! I tried to blend some fun with a bit of seriousness, so I really hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s kinda SPICY at some point, hehehe. I know it takes me a while to post new chapters, but I promise I haven’t forgotten about this fanfic, sometimes I just don’t have enough time. T-T

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

— Ayato opens the door —

Ayato: Haa… What happened?

Chief: Come with me! It’s about Subaru-san!

Ayato: Subaru?

Yui: ( Eh? That’s Ayato-san’s co-worker, right? I hope it’s nothing bad…! )

Place: Reception

Manager: Unfortunately, the cooking contest, as well as the filming, will be stopped for today.

Subaru-san picked a dish to make with one of the girls here, but he didn’t know it had garlic in it. After tasting it, he started feeling sick—bad enough that he had to throw up.

Ayato: Damn it…

Yui: ( Come to think of it... he’s in a group with a vampire concept and he has garlic intolerance. I can’t help but find this a bit ironic. )

( Still, poor Subaru-san... get well soon. )

Ayato: I’m going to check——

Manager: Don’t. Subaru-san is most likely resting now. He needs sleep more than anything after what happened.

Ayato: Tch… fine. But let me know when he wakes up!

Manager: Once he wakes up, I'll ask him to contact you. In the meantime, since you two share a room, I’d appreciate it if Ayato-san could spend his time elsewhere in the hotel.

Ayato: ( Did I indirectly get kicked out—? )

Well, whatever. But where exactly am I supposed to go?

Chief: Actually, now that the contest's cancelled and the other team is not present anymore, the onsen is completely free for you!

Ayato: Heh, is that so?

Chief: Y-Yes, but... since you, mister, are a celebrity, I’ll need to look for a private key first.

Can’t have fans fainting in the hallway if they see you half-dressed, right?

Ayato: Pfft, true… wouldn’t want to cause a stampede in a towel. But hurry up then. The sooner I’m in the hot water, the better~!

— Chief nods and starts searching —

Yui: ( I feel like I’m just a third wheel at this point, so it might be better if I quietly leave too. )

( Besides, my job is supposed to be done for today… and Ayato-san probably wants some space anyway.)

Chief: Wait! I almost forgot about Komori-san!

Yui: Hm? What’s with me?

Chief: Since you were Ayato-san’s cooking partner, the original deal included you getting a chance to use the onsen too, no?

I’ll find a key for you too, in case you want privacy! Just give me a sec——

Yui: …!

( Eh—!? Me? In the onsen? With Ayato-san still around? That’s…! )

Chief: Here they are~!

— hands them the keys —

But I should also mention... because the onsen is a relatively new feature of the hotel, we only have one single room so far. So, uhm... it would be great if you two wouldn’t go at the same time.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: ( Just one onsen... but what if we truly run into each other? )

Ayato: Alright, I’ll go there right now. You can go after I’m done, ‘kay?

I’m not exactly in the mood to wait around, so I’ll make it quick, no worries.

Yui: S-Sure, take your time.

Ayato: Will do~

— takes key and leaves —

*timeskip*

Yui: ( I wonder if he’s done by now… it’s already been three hours. )

— looks at clock —

( Yeah… I suppose he must be. I should start getting my things ready. )

— walks over to her bag and gets her towel —

( I hope the water helped him relax. He did seem tense after all… )

— leaves room —

Place: Onsen Entrance

Yui: ( It’s so quiet... he definitely left, didn’t he? )

( A-Anyway, I should knock or say something, just in case. )

*Knock Knock*

Uhm… Ayato-san? Are you still there?

*Knock Knock*

( No answer once again… )

— tries the handle —

( It’s locked? )

( Ah, he most likely locked it after he left, right? Yeah… that must be it. There’s no way he’d still be inside after all this time. )

— opens door with key and gets inside —

( Just as I thought, nobody’s here! )

— locks door —

( Hehe, time to finally relax! )

— starts unbuttoning her clothes —

( This indoor onsen is way bigger than I thought… The ceiling’s high, the walls are lined with smooth stone, and the pool is so huge that it almost covers the whole room! )

( No wonder the second one isn’t finished yet. This must’ve taken forever to build. The attention to detail alone is amazing! )

— slowly gets into water —

Ah~ so warm…!

( And to think they let me use this… I guess being partnered with Ayato-san really came with some unexpected perks, fufu. )

— stretches —

( So good… I feel like I could instantly fall as—— )

* Ring Ring *

( Eh!? Someone’s calling? )

— her eyes snap open—

( Wait! That’s... that’s not my ringtone? )

( Don’t tell me—! )

Ayato: “Haa... What is it this time?”

Yui: ...!

( That voice… it’s coming from the other side of the divider! )

( No… no, it can’t be— )

Ayato: “Yeah, it’s just me, why? Heh, so he finally woke up? Damn, can’t blame him though, since I had a pretty long nap too. So how is he feeling?”

“Oh, understandable. You took mine too? Mhm, it’s better this way.”

Yui: ( He… He’s been here the entire time…! )

( If he finds out I’m in the same onsen while he’s still inside, I’ll surely get in troubles! )

( What if he thinks I planned this!? )

Ayato: ( Ugh, my phone's dying.)

"I'll call you again, just need to find an outlet for my charger, 'kay?"

Yui: ( Ah, he's coming this way...! )

— gets underwater —

Ayato: ( Now where are the outlets supposed to be? Can’t see any at all. )

Yui: ( Did he leave? I don’t know how much longer I can hold my breath… )

( The water is so hot too…! )

Ayato: ( Whatever. I’ll just leave it like this for now. )

( More importantly… what is that? )

— gets closer —

Yui: ( Uuh… this pressure…! )

( I… I can’t… brea—— )

*SPLASH*

Ayato: Care to explain what the hell you’re doing here?

Yui: Aya…——

— faints —

Ayato: Fuck…!

— pulls her out of water —

*timeskip*

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: Ngh... ah... I-I'm alive!

( But wait… why can’t I move? )

— eyes widen —

( No way! I'm tied to a bamboo stick!? )

Ayato: Finally awake, huh.

Yui: A-Ayato-san!

— face turns red —

( I-I can’t even cover myself...! This is beyond embarrassing! )

( To think that he really went as far as to tie me up… that’s completely unreasonable! )

Yui: D-Don’t look at me like that!

Ayato: Tch. You're in no position to tell me what to do.

Besides, you should be grateful I didn’t report you. Most people would’ve called the cops by now, don’t you think?

Yui: I-It’s not like I did it on purpose! I merely assumed you left! The door was locked, and… and I had a the key too, so… it’s just a misunderstanding, I swear!

Ayato: A misunderstanding, huh?

Tell me then, did you even bother checking the whole room before stripping down? If you had, you would've definitely noticed I was still here.

Yui: That’s… I can’t argue with that. But I truly didn’t have any bad intentions, I was just careless!

Ayato: And why should I believe you’re not just some stalker?

You know I’m famous. You’ve listened to my music and watched my MVs—based on what you said in the kitchen. And then there's the fact that, when we first met, you acted like you didn’t recognize me at all. Even though you're working at Yume no Mori, the very hotel that’s known for hosting events for idols.

And now, after everything, you somehow end up in the onsen at the exact same time as me?

Wherever I go, you just happen to show up too. So tell me, how do you think that looks from my perspective?

Yui: I-I think you must be mixing me up with someone else. When did I even pretend not to recognize you, Ayato-san?

Ayato: Haa… When you handed me that bottle of water outside the club, you moron!

Yui: Eh?

( What is he talking a— wait a second! The bottle of water…? )

…!

— eyes widen in shock —

( No way! Ayato-san… he was the boy I met on my very first night in Tokyo!? )

( The one who had a chest ache… who paid for my taxi… That was him! )

Ayato: Now quit playing dumb, it’s crystal clear you coming here was not an accident.

So what’s the deal with you? Are you really that desperate to get a glimpse of my body? Or is this just part of some sick little obsession you’ve got going on? Either way, it’s disgusting!

Yui: N-No! You got it wrong! I didn’t even know it was you that night!

I just saw someone who looked like they needed help, so I offered some water… that’s all!

And as for me being here... I didn’t come chasing after you or doing anything weird! I got this job through a work exchange program. It was all just a coincidence, not some plan to follow you around!

Ayato: Tch, when will you stop lying?

Yui: But I’m not!

Ayato: ( She’s not only dumb, but also got a damn big mouth. )

Fine, I’ll believe you.

Yui: ( Phew, thanks goodness… I really thought I got him mad. )

Ayato: But don’t start celebrating just yet. I’ve got a condition.

Yui: ( That tone… It’s never good when someone says "but there’s a condition" like that. )

Uuh… what kind of condition?

Ayato: Simple. You don’t tell anyone that you saw me at a private club that night. Not your friends, not your family, not your coworkers, not even your boss—no one.

— gets closer —

Actually, I want you to forget the whole thing. Erase it from your memory. You didn’t see me alone in Tokyo, and you sure as hell didn’t hand me a bottle of water in some alleyway.

Yui: ( That’s it? )

Yes, I promise.

Ayato: You better keep that promise, because if word gets out that I was in such a place, especially unguarded, it’ll stir up more trouble than you can imagine. One stupid rumor, and my entire career could take a hit. You get that, don’t you?

Yui: I-I do.

Ayato: Good. Then zip it and stop following me around. Or next time I won’t be this generous.

( I already took pictures of her in here. If she ever decides to snitch on me, I’ll make sure she goes down too. )

— unties her —

Yui: …!

Than——

Ayato: Don’t thank me. Just go put some clothes on. Then leave the onsen immediately.

— Yui nods —

Yui: ( He's scary when he's like this… But I guess I can't really blame him, can I?)

( It was stupid of me to come in without checking properly... so, I suppose it was indeed my fault. )

( To think he’s the boy I met that night after I first arrived in Tokyo... that truly caught me off guard. )

( Just what kind of person are you really, Ayato-san? )

I-I’m done!

Ayato: And why are you telling me this? You expecting an award or something?

Just unlock the damn door and leave already.

— Yui starts searching key —

Yui: ( Now where did I put it? I know I had the key when I came in… maybe it slipped into the towel?)

— checks towel —

( Oh no… it's not here either? Don’t tell me I dropped it somewhere in the changing area? Or worse… in the water!? )

Hey… Ayato-san? I… I can’t really seem to find my key, so could you maybe lend me yours…? J-Just for a second! I promise I’ll give it back right away!

Ayato: ( Seriously!? First she breaks in, then she nearly drowns, and now this? )

You're telling me you managed to lose a single key in a closed room in less than two hours?

Yui: Uhh… I must’ve dropped it somewhere without noticing...

Ayato: Haa…

— pulls out his key —

I guess if you beg nicely, I might give it to you.

Yui: B-Beg!?

Ayato: …Or do you wanna stay locked in here all night and explain yourself to the hotel staff tomorrow?

Yui: No, no!

Ayato: Good, then be a good dog and do as I tell you.

Yui: ( A dog, huh…? If that’s what you really want… )

— sits on all fours and looks at him —

Ayato: …!?

Yui: P-Please, give me the——

Ayato: You… you obscene bitch!

Yui: Eh?

( Wait what? )

Ayato: ( What the hell is wrong with her!? To sit on all fours in front of a man who’s only wearing a towel… did she want to suck me off!? )

Leave me alone already!!!

Yui: But I—

Ayato: I-I said leave me alone!

— shoves her out then shuts the door —

Yui: Ayato-san…

Yui’s monologue

So many things happened today… It’s almost overwhelming trying to piece them all together.

From carrying the luggage, to cooking with Ayato-san… and then—

The onsen. That whole incident. My heart still hasn’t stopped racing…

I came to Tokyo with simple intentions: to work, to learn, and to make new friends.

And yet…

The boy I met on my first night here and the one I couldn't stop thinking about…

He turned out to be Ayato. Ayato, the frontman of SAKAMAKIS. A name everyone knows. A face on billboards.

Someone so far removed from my world, it's really laughable to think we’d ever cross paths again—

Yet we did.

But instead of a reunion, it felt like rejection.

I made a mistake… and now he sees me as nothing more than a nuisance. Maybe even worse.

I keep telling myself that it shouldn’t matter. That it’s impossible for an ordinary person to get closer to an idol.

But then…

Why am I crying now?

[koiiiji]

sorry honey, im ovulating

tw ; minors, ageless, empty blogs DNI OR ILL BLOCK YOU!! nsfw, porn w/o plot straight under the line, kinda m!sub

Gun never ever thought that sex might be different.

he never suspect that it actually can be way different than he used to do with his one night stands. how can sex in a serious relationship differ from the sex he paid for, or with those who just clung to his shoulders in some random club? that's right, no difference! or so Gun thought before he started dating you.

many would have identified Gun as a masochist, but in bed he still preferred to keep a dominant role. although you don't seem to care much about that right now. all you were worried about right now, was another orgasm while you were jumping up and down on your boyfriend's dick.

what was the time in a row? 4? 5? you both have already lost count. blankets and pillows are scattered on the bed, and lying somewhere at the foot or at the floor, the sheets are all wet with sweat, saliva, and a mixture of his sperm and your juices.

any other time, Gun would have finished as soon as he cum, but it was different with you. of course, usually you two went through 2, in rare cases, through 3 rounds and then exhausted (lol only you) went to sleep, but that night for the first time Gun felt that he was not fucking, but being fucked. he already had you in all positions, was rough, was gentle, but you still didn't calm down. after the last orgasm, you were still caressing like a kitten, giggling, biting your lower lip and nuzzling his neck, sucking and biting the skin, whispering in his ear that you still want more. you were purring with pleasure, and Gun was getting nervous. did he lack the strength to cope with your libido? is he tired? after sex? nonsense, he would have thought, but you have already straddled his hips from above, and his cock has already showed deep into your tight, hot pussy. after so many hours of sex, you were still clutching him tightly, and then Gun thought… you are fucking him now, not him, as it usually happens. and if his eyes were pitch black, then he could have sworn that your eyes were almost glowing in the darkness of your bedroom right now. just like the succub.

it's not that he sees you as a rival now, but your smug smile, half-closed eyes in which he could almost see little hearts when his dick pounded into your sweet, sensitive spot. his hands found your hips, and squeezed with such force, that there will definitely be bruises in the morning. you just gasped in surprise, too deeply immersed in the euphoria of your own pleasure…

when you finally finished, it was Gun who was lying exhausted, arms outstretched and staring at the ceiling with an empty (as well as his balls) gaze. rising up on your elbows, you giggled, and lightly kissed him on the cheek, merrily murmuring “sorry honey, i’m ovulating, i just couldn't get enough of you” and easily flew out of bed, grabbing a towel and heading to the shower, leaving Gun alone in bed... thinking…

wait, did you just fucked him?

[starlitrays]

SAFEHOUSE

starring. shouta aizawa x gn!reader

summary. what happens when pro hero eraserhead, also an old flame, shows up on your doorstep, beaten and bruised and a little bloody, telling you he needs your help?

content. use of 'y/n' and 'l/n' for last name, blood descriptions, patch up descriptions bc i have first aid, emt & basic life support training, reader's quirk is 'total immunity' meaning the only way they can die is of old age although idk how relevant it is, reader and aizawa used to be kinda together, 'who did this to you?' but reader says it

a/n. can you tell yet that i'm an oxford comma lover?? | also part 2?? maybe?

navigation – masterpost

You should've gone to sleep hours ago. But you kept telling yourself, one more episode, which had become the rest of the second season of a show you were starting to hyper fixate on. You had the next day off, and whenever you did, you had a tendency to be more lenient with your bedtime, even when you regretted it in the morning with more cups of caffeine than even you deemed healthy.

Blinking hurt a little bit, your eyes dry from having been glued to you laptop screen. Your fingers mindlessly floated over to the trackpad, and you tapped it, pausing the episode. With a heavy sigh, you tilted your neck to either side, effectively popping the bones.

When you felt a dry tickle in the back of your throat, you looked off into the dimly lit space of your bedroom. The only light was from your laptop and a bedside lamp on your nightstand. Without the sound effects and voices of the characters in your new show leaving your laptop speakers, your home felt extremely quiet.

That tickle again came back to irk you again, and you realised you needed water. Setting your laptop aside, you pushed the bunch of blankets that lay over your lap to the side, swinging your legs over and off your bed. You yawned, reaching for your phone on your nightstand.

You blinked a couple times as your eyes tried to adjust to staring into the brightest light source in the room. 2:38 AM. Shaking your head at yourself, you pushed yourself out of your bed.

Using your lockscreen as a flashlight, you opened your bedroom door, shining the light down the hall. It seemed dimmer when you used it like this. Still, you stepped out of your bedroom, venturing into the darkness. It was still your space, and you trusted that you wouldn't be jump scared by anything.

You walked down your hallway, glancing into your bathroom out of habit as you reached the main area. To your right was the entryway and living room, and to your left, the kitchen and dining area. In quick strides you made your way into your kitchen, opening the cupboard just to the left of your sink. You reach for a glass and pull it down, setting it on the counter with your hand still around it while your other hand reaches forward to the faucet handle, turning it to set the water as cold as possible.

As you fill your glass, you start to feel that something is off. The air is so still, almost to the point you think you can see the dust floating around in the dark. You look around, but end up shaking your head, chalking it up to being up too late. You look down and see the glass just over half full and call it good, bringing it up to your mouth. First, small sips of the cold liquid, and then a gulp of it down your throat.

”Better.” You mumble into the air, staring at the closed sheer curtains that hang over the window over your kitchen sink.

Then there's a knock at your front door. Well, it's not so much a knock and more so a bang-like sound. Several bangs, actually. It made you flinch– jump a little bit where you stood. You set your glass on the counter and just stared at the door, unsure of how to proceed.

You heard words through the door, although you couldn't make out what they were with the distance you had from the entry point. But something persuaded you to go over to your door. You reached for the handle, and then paused when you heard a sound. A groan.

”Who is it?” You asked through the door, your hand hovering just over the lock mechanism.

”It's shit-” The voice is strained, but you recognise it immediately. ”Shouta.” It's your ex. Sort of. There was history, but you didn't end on bad terms. you both just outgrew your relationship at the time. You still cared for him deeply though, and the next bit was a no brainer.

You unlock the door and pull it open, your eyes taking in the entirety of the man before you, who's leaning against the frame of the door with his free hand clutching at his side. You knew he was a hero, Eraserhead, and how he was dressed reflected that he had just been doing something related to hero work. His dark hair fell just past his shoulders, and he looked tired, the scars on his face emphasising the exhaustion. Although bigger than anything, you could see he was bleeding. The hand holding his side had blood all over it.

”Sorry (L/n), I didn't have anywhere else-” He groaned, and your eyes shot up from his injury to his eyes. Shouta took a step forward, and you instinctively reached for him, helping him stay upright. ”to go.” He managed out, and you nodded. You guided the man inside and against the nearest wall, shutting the door behind him.

”Stay here. I promise I'll be right back.” You tell him, letting go of him. Despite the late hour and the shock of it all, you still had a moment of thinking about his blood staining your furniture. Just before you turn down the hall, you pause. ”And Shouta? It's (Y/n), you know that.” He smiles at your words as you disappear down the hallway.

You're quick to walk to the hallway's linen closet, pulling out two bath towels you save for guests and a sheet set that you can easily replace. Gently kicking the closet's door shut with your foot, you make your way back to the main area of your home and start to lay the sheet set over one of your sofas, the towels going down shortly after.

Then you stand upright and guide Shouta, one arm around his upper back, over to the sofa to lay down. ”I got you.” You repeat to him a few times when he resists letting go of you as you try to lay him down. When you feel his body tense and relax and tense and relax as he lets go of you, you sigh.

”Thank you (L/n)- (Y/n).” Shouta corrects himself, short grunts leaving his lips as he tries to readjust to get comfortable.

”Don't thank me yet, you're still bleeding out.” You dry laugh, before looking around the open space. The time you spent with the underground hero years prior had taught you some things. For example, to be aware of your surroundings. You stood up straight and double checked all of the windows were locked, as well as the front door, and you only turned on one lamp in your living room.

You were about to head back down the hall for the bathroom when Shouta spoke again, making you stop in your tracks to listen to him. When you realised he was speaking quietly, probably to himself, you moved on, taking quick strides in your bathroom. Your hands moved quickly to light switch, flicking it on, and then to the cabinet under the sink, reaching for your intensive first aid kit or, you supposed it would be better classified as a basic life support kit. Another thing you'd learned, or adapted from, your time with Shouta in the past. As you got upright again, you looked at yourself in the mirror. All sleep had disappeared from your eyes, your breathing was laboured, and your hands were, surprising stable. You weren't sure when you picked up the ability to make your hands stop shaking but if you had to take a guess? He was in your living room right now.

When you kneeled on the rug beside the sofa Shouta was on, you tried to steady your breathing, although it was a little difficult with how worrying the entire situation was.

”What happened?” You asked as you began to open the medical kit, your eyes moving to his for just second.

Shouta chuckled, and as strained as it was, it was comforting. After all, at least he wasn't dead.

”Was the hero get-up not enough of an indicator?” He asks as you begin to remove his hands from his injury, instead opting to press some of the dressing from your medical kit to his wound. From the times you'd patched both Shouta and some of his associates up before, you'd worked as a well oiled machine together. This time was no different. Right as you lifted one hand from the dressing, he took over, using his own hand to press the dressing.

”You're gonna give me a better explanation in the morning.” You tell him sternly. A man, an old flame nonetheless, shows up your doorstep bloody and about to croak and you're supposed to not want to know what happened?

Shouta's eyes fell to you. You looked worried. Worried about him. ”Of course.” He mutters, moving slowly as he tries to help you by raising his body to help him get his shirt and scarf off him. He still keeps his mouth mostly closed, his teeth grit together as he breathes out between them.

You begin to pack the dressing with more once you see that he's starting to bleed through the first set, and you start to notice that you aren't crying. You aren't tearing up like you used to on the occasion Shouta got injured. Of course, you could feel the warmth of tears behind your eyes, threatening to attempt a fall, but you were focused. The only indication of possible tears was how you sniffled every couple of minutes.

Reaching into the medical supplies, you pick up and move around various items until you find it. The needle and sterilised sutures. With those ready to go, you got up again, running to your kitchen for any kind of alcohol you had on hand. The first bottle you found was of an older scotch. A good one. Regardless, you didn't think twice before bringing it back to the rug you sat on.

Shouta's eyes followed you around as you moved. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the pain the scotch would cause him.

”This is gonna hurt.” Shouta can only nod along with your words, shutting his eyes momentarily. He purses his lips together as he releases the dressing and you begin to pour the alcohol around and over his wound.

As you tilt the bottle upright, you go to set it back down but hesitate.

”You want a sip?” You ask, and Shouta's eyes open. ”This next part is gonna hurt too.” You gesture over to the stitching equipment you have.

He smiles. ”Sure.”

You smile back at him for just a moment, and then you bring the bottle up to his face and tilt it over, only pulling it back and setting it aside when he used his hand to push at your hand.

Your hands go for the needle and sutures, and you shake your head. A mental way of making sure you weren't sleepy anymore.

When you cut the end of the stitch, you and Shouta both sighed simultaneously, and then you took a sip of the scotch yourself.

Next was the bandages. You had several types, but ended up with two kinds in hand. The first was easy to press on, it was just a large sheet of gauze with something tape-like around it. The other kind started with a sticky end so it could be applied directly on the skin.

”Alright.” You mumble, partially to yourself, partially to nobody, and partially to Shouta as you stick one end of the second bandage to his bare torso and you start to pull it around him. Shouta again lifts his body to help you, and you wrap it around him twice, cutting it with some freedom to tuck and tie the ends until you were sure it would stay in place.

You sit back on the floor with your legs tucked to the side, leaning against your coffee table at the same time Shouta lets himself relax back into the sheet and towel covered cushions of your sofa.

Through your heavy breathing, with your eyes on Shotua, you find it in you somewhere to laugh a little bit.

”Did you want a shirt now?” You ask, already about to stand up.

Shouta looks at you a little bit confused. ”Not be rude (Y/n), but I don't think your shirts are gonna fit me.”

”No, Shouta of course not. But you never came back for your stuff.”

”You still have it?” He's a little... confused? Baffled maybe? It's been years, why would you still have his clothes? Whatever the emotion is, it shows on his face.

”Have you ever known me to get rid of anything comfortable?”

Of course. He chuckles, sucking in air through his teeth at the end, his hand instinctively coming to rest just over his injury.

”In that case, would you also grab me a pair of my sweats?” He asked, smiling up at you. You only nod before you disappear from his peripheral vision. Why did you guys stop seeing each other again?

”Are you alright?” You asked when you returned to him, shirt and pants folded neatly over each other in a pile. To most, that question in this context seemed odd. But in the moment, it made sense. Shouta blinks a few times in the dimly lit room.

”I will be. Do you have eyedr-” He stops speaking when his eyes flick to you and you're already holding the familiar bottle of eyedrops out to him. It's the brand he'd told you forever ago that he preferred, and it'd sat in your mini surgery kit ever since then.

”Come to my room after you change?” You mean it more as a direction, and Shouta nods a yes to you. ”If you need help, call.” You tell him before scurrying back off to your bedroom.

Your eyes scanned the room up and down, from left to right, picking up the little messes scattered about the space. First a couple of socks that were strewn about, moved to a hamper. Then your laptop, you shut it down and put it on its charger. Third, you went to your linen closet and grabbed a couple of extra pillows for the other side of your bed.

”(Y/n)?” Shouta called out, and you turned to the hallway, getting back to him quickly.

Without exchanging many words, you helped Shouta sit and stand up, looping your arm around his middle and his arm around your shoulder. The walk back to your room felt slower, but you were still considerate as you could be.

When you get into your room Shouta stopped walking for a moment, so you do too. He looks around the bedroom, and you look at him. He's not judging it, just observing it. After all, it's your private space, your territory. Just as soon as the man picked up his feet again, you moved with him, walking him over to the side of the bed you don't sleep on.

He starts to let go of you, sitting down on the mattress. Carefully, you let him lie down on his own, still standing just beside him, just in case.

”You should consider being a nurse.” Shouta tells you with a smile.

You half-smile at him, a small laugh escaping you. ”I've got my hands full enough with you, Eraserhead.” You emphasise his hero name, which makes the both of you chuckle. ”Especially if these visits are going to become a thing.”

Shouta almost rolled his eyes, instead opting to wave away your words with his hand. ”I'll try not to make them a habit.”

”Good.” You respond, with a smile on your face as you help him get comfortable with the blankets and comforter on your bed. ”You good?” He nods and you retire to your usual side of your bed.

”Shouta?” He's always liked the way his name sounds coming from you.

”Hm?”

”I was serious about that explanation in the morning.” You remind him, and he smiles, although you can't see it with how you're turned towards your nightstand at the moment.

”I'll make sure to leave a note.”

You turn your head to face him with a frown. ”A note? Absolutely not. Even if I didn't want the explanation I have to replace your bandages.” You scoff.

At first he doesn't say anything, he just smiles. ”I'm glad you were awake. I missed you.” He says, and you just look at him for a moment, a little stunned.

You wanted to say more, but instead only hummed in acknowledgment. There was so much to say, to talk about, but the adrenaline was wearing off, and you were getting increasingly more tired as the late night turned early morning wore on.

You watched Shouta turn over. ”Thank you again, (Y/n).” His voice is quieter, and you smile before turning off your bedside lamp and trying to get some sleep yourself.

@ STARLITRAYS : please do not translate or repost my works without my expressed consent and permission. please do not copy any of my works.

[prosypepper]

deadbeat, pt.2 - toji fushiguro

pt. 1

synopsis: still too stupid and selfish for anything good to happen.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: more angst, sort of comfort from the last part, more fighting, one (1) paragraph describing sex, toji breaks into your house, megumi is your baby, unneeded plot twist at the end, really bad writing again. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i really had not a clue for what to do as a part 2, so i stuck with canon events (kinda). i hope u like it :) please go read part 1 before reading this! it's at the top of the post! much love!!

masterlist

“megumi, stop running away from me!”

 footsteps patter against the grass as your 1-and-a-half-year-old son tries to escape you. you laugh and chase him for a little while before scooping him up in your arms. he babbles and whines, now unable to run freely, but you tell him you need to cook dinner.

a year and some months have passed since toji kicked you out. you haven’t looked back since. you’d bought a house after getting a new job, it has a beautiful back yard and enough space for you and megumi to grow freely.

the only traces of toji left in your life was the dingy wedding ring he bought – that now laid somewhere in your jewelry box – and your son, who looked just like his father. toji’s genes absolutely outshined yours in the boy. however, you were able to look at megumi with more love than anything else in this world, despite what his deadbeat father did to you.

at the end of each day, after megumi goes to sleep, you enjoy spending a few hours to yourself, watching whatever tv drama or reading a book. after you put megumi down for bed, you stay in the room for a few minutes to make sure he falls asleep, safe and sound. and when you make your way back to the living area, a scene is in front of you that stops you in your tracks.

toji.

toji’s sitting on your couch, somehow broken into your house, and he’s looking right into your eyes. you can’t move. you can’t speak. you can only stare at toji as the uncomfortable silence fills the air more and more.

“wh-,” you stutter, anything other than the small noise unable to come from your lips, and you begin to back away slowly.

something had changed with you. since you’d left toji, a certain fear grew in the back of your mind, because toji was a dangerous person, after all. you had prayed things would be left alone, because you and megumi were just fine by yourselves, and toji is the one that told you to get out. the once fearless person you were was no longer there.

and the person that scared you the most was sitting in your living room.

“hey,” toji says, cutting the anticipation in the air, “don’t back away from me.” his words stop you once more.

“toji,” you mutter, saying his name again, something toji had longed for, “why…are you here?” you ask him, shoulders beginning to relax.

“i wanted to see my wife.”

toji’s nerve immediately angers you. you weren’t his wife anymore when he kicked you and his own son out of his house. you weren’t his wife when he cheated on you that night, either. you haven’t been his wife for well over a year. the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, and you soon know why, when your eyes trail down to the coffee table and see the neat stack of papers you had sent toji months ago.  

“i’m…i’m not your wife anymore, toji,” you sternly tell him, crossing your arms over your chest. the fear you once had quickly fades, now replaced with nothing but anger – the same anger you’ve had for toji since you left his apartment.

“i haven’t signed the papers yet,” toji retorts, “and i won’t.”

rage boils up in your chest at his words. and the audacity he has to break into your house and declare you as his wife pisses you off even more.

“get the hell out of my house, toji,” you demand, pointing a finger towards the door – just as he did to you.

toji only crosses his arms in return. he doesn’t budge.

you stomp over to toji, leaning down and grabbing the collar of his shirt in your fist, “you’re the one that left me, you bastard,” a new strength makes its way into your arm as you tug on his shirt, forcing him to stand up, dragging him towards the entrance of your home, “get the hell out of my house!” you try and throw toji towards the door, and he stumbles over his feet for a second before regaining his balance.

too many emotions are running through you for you to act rationally. tears sting your eyes as you watch toji stand there, looking at the ground, a cold expression across his features. one of his fists is balled up. veins pop out of his arm. you lean against the wall in the walkway leading to your door, slowly sliding down until you’re on the floor. you bring your knees to your chest. tears slide down your cheeks.

toji takes a step toward you and crouches down so he’s on the same level. he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, it’s the softest he’s touched you in a long time. you want to cower away from his touch, but all the feelings you tried so hard to push deep down — all the anger, all the sorrow, all the hurt, all the love — come rushing back into you at lightning speed.

toji’s dark pupils dilate as you look into them. he gives you once small look of vulnerability, something he hadn’t even done when you were married to him. he takes a thumb to wipe away one of the tears.

he’s sorry.

the words dare not come out of his mouth, but you can see, toji is sorry.

you break.

a small whimper leaves your lips, and you throw yourself into toji, wrapping your arms around his neck. his strong arms engulf you again.

“you…asshole,” you cry into his shoulder, tears coating the fabric of the shirt you almost ripped off of him. there are no smart remarks or retorts from the man, he knows, he just knows how much he hurt you.

the pain he put you through was inevitable.

as you continue your sobbing, a different cry comes out from down the hallway. toji’s head perks up at the wailing. it’s as if your baby knows exactly what is happening.

“it’s megumi,” you sigh into toji’s chest, quickly pushing the man off you. he stands up and helps you stand along with him. toji trails behind you as you enter megumi’s room.

there’s a look of unease on his face as he watches you pick your son up and hush him, whispering sweet words to him and combing his hair with your fingers. toji can see the resemblance to himself, how his child has the same eyes, same nose, same hair, even the same tiny eyebrows. he watches you bounce megumi on your hip, slowly settling the baby’s emotions, making him tired again in the process. as you cradle the almost asleep baby in your arms, you notice toji’s uncomfortable gawking.

“do you want to hold him?” you ask toji, voice still a little uneven when you talk to him. he hesitantly nods his head. you hold the slumbering baby out, coaching toji on the most adequate way to hold the boy.

it’s a sight to see, toji holding his mini-me, bolstering the baby in his arms. toji gives you a proud look, like, “i’m actually doing it!” but of course, his emotions go no further than the look on his face. he is content holding his son in his arms, he could stay that way forever, he thinks. his scarred lips curl into a frown when you tell him he needs to put megumi back down to sleep, but begrudgingly, he hands the boy back to you to settle him in his crib.

you and toji make your way into the kitchen, a much bigger space than what was in his apartment. the conversation you tried to outrun by crying and being angry is no longer able to be looked over. toji is left in the room with you, just you. toji sits in one of the chairs at the small dining table, you lean against the counter, across the room from him. awkward silence takes up the space between you.

“why are you here, toji?” you ask the man, stirring a spoon around in a mug of whichever tea you like best.

toji rests his elbows on the back of the chair, looking everywhere but at you, “i…just wanted to see you and the baby,” he weakly admits, although, you aren’t sure if you can trust his words. inside your heart, you so desperately want him to be telling you the truth, but he hasn’t earned your trust, he hasn’t done anything to do so.

you focus your attention on the cup of tea, still furiously stirring away, as toji gets up from the chair and slowly steps towards you. it feels like hours pass as he walks over, but eventually, he’s close and trapping you against the counter. an unsteady hand sets the mug down behind you, careful not to spill the hot substance on the either of you, and you stare toji right in the eyes, seeing a tiny look of lust.

after all the time that had passed, toji could no longer peel away the emotions he felt for you. he could no longer cover them up, remain cold, and stay mean. he needed you like this. he needed that person that took a chance on him, and he knows that no one else ever will be as courageous as you were when you asked him for his number that day.

toji leans in, and presses his lips to yours, giving you a light kiss that you hadn’t had in so, so long. you close your eyelids at the contact. once again, you wrap your arms around his neck, fully embracing the contact with him – god, you missed him. you missed your husband.

his hands find their way to your waist, he’s feeling you up and down, taking his time to touch all the crevices he remembers so well. intimacy. toji couldn’t find that with anyone else but you. it doesn’t take long for things to lead up, and toji’s carrying you to the bedroom, softly laying you down on the bed as you two rip each other’s clothes off.

toji makes love to you that night. it’s not fucking, or just sex, it’s a deep connection this time, so close, so cherished. more sentimental than all the months he spent with you beforehand. his hands are all over you, his eyes never leave your face, he makes sure it feels the best for you and him. hours and hours pass by, and the whole encounter feels like a moment, a dream, something so unreal that toji thought he could never have.

you fall asleep nestled in toji’s arms, the both of you naked and sweaty, and loved. a satisfying conclusion to the night. he waits for you to doze off first, and he watches the rise and fall of your chest as you so easily fall into a slumber, next to him.

maybe it wouldn’t be a good thing later down the line, maybe allowing him back into your life will end up being a mistake again. you aren’t sure if he will even be there by the time the sun rises. toji isn’t sure this will stay permanent, his thoughts of running away cloud his brain as he watches his wife sleep next to him, so peacefully. he doesn’t know how long he will stay.

but, neither one of you really care.

toji’s eyes shoot open at the familiar sobbing of a baby. he sits straight up, covered in sweat, as if a nightmare had just ensued.

the bed is empty, he’s alone…and he remembers he’s been alone. you’ve been gone, for many months now, gone in a way you’re unable to return from.

it wasn’t a nightmare, no.

it was all a dream.

[diabolicalevil]

How would Primarchs react to falling asleep or cuddling with love interest by accident?

Primarchs reactions to falling asleep with you

gn!reader

honestlyy this is perfect timing cause I've been a lot more sleepy than normal. its probably the summer heat and all those books I pretend to read

Lion El'johnson: Sleep isn't something that comes easily to him, it means complete vulnerability so it's never accidental. He demands that you sleep in his quarters with him watching over you. If you ask him to join you, he'll usually scoff but this once he did concede. It wasn't his best sleep, he was awake almost all of it. Lion told himself he was just keeping you safe but really he was entranced to see a peaceful side of you that he hadn't seen up close before.

Fulgrim: fulgrim loves 2 party!!!! When you left the event with Fulgrim most, including you both, expected things to get frisky. But as soon as you were half out of your formal wear and tumbling into bed you were out cold immediately. Fulgrim had woken first, all smiles as he cradled you. While he lamented missing out on getting to have you he had to admit seeing you content and asleep in his arms was just as thrilling.

Perturabo: If it were anyone else he'd call them pathetic to their face. What a sight it was, you had waited for him so long you'd slipped into sleep. He dare not touch or wake you, and he certainly wouldn't have his sons move you. So he left you uncomfortably tucked into a chair. A small joy to look at as he worked.

Jaghatai Khan: No amount of pleading or bargaining could get this man to rest. you grew to accept this but you, being a baseline, still had to. Getting in a midday cat nap was far easier with Jaghatai gone, presumably racing like hell. Waking up you found yourself curled up at his side, attempting or maybe just pretending to sleep. "I don't see why you like this so much." He remarked, already preparing to leave. While he certainly didn't get it, it was nice that he tried to understand you.

Leman Russ: Despite being the father to thousands of wolf sons he seemingly never tired. Key word seemingly. In the quiet of your shared bedroom it would take at most an hour for him to doze off. Often you would too, being completely surrounded by a massive, searing hot body would do that. Waking up with him after a nap was the closest he'd get to being tender.

Rogal Dorn: Can sleep anywhere surprisingly. Transport ship, on his work table, upright in his armour, whatever works in the moment. He never usually considered his work tedious but even having you chatting to him couldn't make it interesting today. The tedium got to you as well and it wasn't long until you were asleep. Dorn knew he should continue working, but there was no one there to judge him as he scooped you up in his lap and fell asleep with you. he wore the pain glove for the next 56 hours as punishment

Konrad Curze: sleeps upside down and is very upset stupid shit like "blood flow" prevents you from joining him.

Sanguinius: You spend most of your time together in his gardens, marvelling at his plants or, in this case, sleeping in the sun. There is nothing he loves more than cradling you in his wings. He wakes up long before you but not once does leaving even cross his mind. You're the only thing he truly has and he will relish it in this moment.

Ferrus Manus: Unsurprisingly it is hard and annoying to cuddle a man with metal arms. He's usually freezing to the touch and rather than wait until it warms up you sleep on his chest and he lays starfish. He claims it's just a necessity you must tolerate but he does think it's kinda funny.

Angron: The nails are far too loud for him to achieve sleep unless he is completely spent. He does however watch you sleep. Often. He'll hold your hand against his head like a cold cloth to a fever. His voice is too loud to speak aloud and he dare not wake you so he merely kneels by you and thinks. Thanks, apologies, confessions, whatever comes to mind in the moment. The nails punish him for it, but when else would he get a moment to let those thoughts form?

Roboute Guilliman: You were already in his lap while he was working. Just having you next to him is enough to make the work more bearable. When you fall asleep he takes his first break in hours, leaning down to kiss your hair and whisper his thoughts and frustrations to you. All things he tried to keep to himself as to not worry you.

Mortarion: worlds most annoying bastard refuses to cuddle. Shocker. Most you'll get is using his thigh as a pillow. Once he's sure, like 100% sure that you're asleep, he'll start petting you.

Magnus: Surprisingly nice to fall asleep around, he acts as a human dream catcher. He is a little annoyed you clocked out while with him, he had something to say. (Then again when does he not) but quickly finds that watching you lounging in his absurdly large furniture is very amusing.

Horus Lupercal: pillows 🤤 He's got one of the most "strong man" builds of the primarchs, that is to say kinda pudgy. Not to mention his boobing breasts. He was made to take naps on and he knows it. Often suggests it and when you do fall asleep he won't move for anything or anyone.

Lorgar Aurelian: Usually doesn't lay with you, something something holy purity. Instesd he'll sit on or next to the bed and speak with you until and even after you fall asleep. Big fan of reading you scripture.

Vulkan: He's like a furnace so any naps or cuddling won't last long, much to your chagrin of course but he enjoys what time he does get. Likes to cuddle most when you're in his room, far far away from noise or harm. Watching you rest never fails to remind him of what he fights to protect in humanity.

Corvus Corax: Doesn't sleep often but is very easily woken, even by primarch standards. Utterly fascinated by your ability to sleep soundly, vows to have anyone who disturbs your rest sentenced to death by ravens. Alfred Hitchcock Style.

Alpharius/Omegon: sandwich 🤤 For the "this is the other half of my soul" guys they sure know how to bicker. Always arguing one has more of you despite laying in between them. They never fall asleep but they pretend to as you doze off. Instead, they watch you. Intently. Recording every slight twitch or breath and slotting it away in the deepest parts of their memory.

ok thank u 4 the ask anon nap time for meee

[lynnie-s3all]

Either chance or two time and my life is yours 🙏🙏

If i take both to become a whole trio ship, what would i think of that honestly? eh.. I'm going for chance.

(im so tired i did not sleep the whole hour.)

Chance x Support reader headcanons

Being a gambler eh? Must be a tough luck each time.

Remember that small imagine heads up for Chance i made? If i add that here, i think i can finish up the whole oneshot about that so far. But anyway let's start from how he REALLY. met you.

This one probably took place where you all are trying to survive from that John Doe killer. Yeah you heard me right.

He was almost dying low on health and you we're the survivor, or at least i should say the support survivor. You're basically like elliot but a special one. But still killable anyway.

Well how did he find you, BEHIND A WALL OFC (im joking you know almost all maps have a wall to hide from them yk.)

Well you're good on being on at least 80 percent of your health before you start rapidly dying if you get hit by one of his spikes.

Yeah. So chance came up to you and ask if you have any medkit, and of course you do have one but you didn't plan on using it anyway.

He kinda told you that while he was outrunning from the dude with a spiky arm on his left arm, his luck apparently got worsen cause it gave him weakness for half a second. You of course. Well what can you do?

You made a deal with him that if he can distract John Doe and let him attack Shedletsky and Guest, they would take care of the whole thing while he can basically just stun him out after.

He agreed to that deal. WELL WHAT'S YOUR SKILL THOUGH? You basically removed his weakness passive skill and replace it with speed (2). Ok but like, that's pretty unnecessary Zyran.

Well did he do something? Yeah. He decided to bride carry you to a safe zone where not any killer can find you, i really have no idea where he can find that place..

You stayed there for a while, and throughout the whole run, he was energized like he took 5 cans of energy drink straight up in his mouth. Anddd he did shoot John Doe to stun him too. How nice.

Hey, at least you're okay. I mean, in less than a few minutes you'll be fine. The round is almost over.

He went back to the same spot where he had placed you, and you just greet him with a casual "hi again" and act like nothing just happened.

Surprise surprise, he wasn't that amused a lot. But his heart definitely can tell he HAD FEELINGS?

(Wow what a bad story romance you got there zyran.)

Yeah possibly, HE DOES HAVE FEELINGS, but at the same time, why did i write a whole story headcanon about what happened instead of thinking about THE WHOLE LOVE STORY?

Top it off the notch, you two met each other at the bar once again from what happened like a few weeks ago since you two just wnated a break from that whole survivor killer thing...

and there. that's where the whole entire imagine heads up Chance started.

Do i need to tell more? Oh yea I WOULD.

(You might ask, Zyrannnnn, isn't this already a perfect one made by you so far? )

(Uh I'm gonna be honest with you, that whole entire writing thing wasn't really a satire stuff i do mostly because i saw other people write a whole oneshot about forsaken and i really wanted to get back into writing because my motivation is deep down shit. And back like in 2022, i used to write a whole onshot fanfiction that's based from a fnf mod. Yeah my old 14 year old self was proud into making one of those.)

(sorry for the ramble, i just want people to know that.)

[thebestsetter]

Karasu was a coward. It was as simple as that.

He looked for the weaker enemies. He thought he was mediocre, so he never went for the stronger people. Always the weakest, the ones underneath him. The ones he knew for sure he could beat.

And, being a coward, he also never admitted his feelings for you out loud. After all, being your one and only academic rival was way better. The look of what could only be described as pure loathing when he got 1% more than you on a random exam, the look of pride and smug smile on your face when you beat him, the sneaky and sarcastic remarks... it was all so... exciting. He didn't need your relationship to change. You were both clearly "comfortable" with it (if going at each other's throats is deemed "comfortable," that is.) That's why he kept quiet, firing smart and cleverly hidden flirtatious lines every now and then. It was all fine.

Until it wasn't. Until he couldn't keep his feeling hidden anymore.

It was during a random chemistry class. Being the top 2 students of the advanced class (the top 1 was always changing, yet it always showed the same result: either you or him), the teacher assigned you both to do a project together, wanting to see "what kind of amazing project will come out of the smartest students she ever had", and that also meant sitting together during classes.

Neither of you was really happy with this, but decided to treat it as a challenge: whoever managed to stay the longer without outright verbally attacking the other would win. And you both were not the kind of people who backed down from a challenge.

That day, you had spent hours working on that project during late hours. So, you were just so sleepy you couldn't help but lay down your head and rest for a bit, trying to get a well-deserved close eye.

"A bit" turned into half of the period.

"Psst, smartie pants" Karasu nudged you with the tip of his pencil "The teacher's looking funny at you. I mean, he always looks funny, but it's even worse right now."

At your lack of response, Karasu nudged you a little bit harder

"Hey, I'm being serious. Open your eyes or else we'll be in trouble." He then rested his head on his hands with a sigh, admiring your sleeping face. A small smile appeared on his face "You know, you're kinda cute when you're not being a total nerd. Or glaring at me. Or laughing at my 97 when you got a 98"

He gently removed a hair that fell on your face, putting it behind your ear. "I wish I had the courage to tell you this." He whispered "I like you. A lot, actually. Way more than I should."

He doesn't know why, but he waited for a response. He waited for you to suddenly get up, point at him and laugh at what he said. Because no way you'd ever like someone so... mediocre as him.

"You're really sleeping?" He nudged you once more, obtaining yet again no response. His smile widened, and he couldn't help but continue to stare at you, completely zoning out for the rest of the lesson.

He wishes he could say this was the only time this happened, but it wasn't. Everytime you slept during chemistry class, Karasu quietly declared his feeling for you. Saying what he liked about you, what he wanted to tell you when you were awake, talking about which dates he wanted to go with you.

It became a routine, honestly. But he'd never admit everything to you out loud.

And he actually didn't even need to.

Because little did he know, the only time you really slept was during the first one. And little did he know, the project wasn't the only thing you were working on. February 14th was getting close, after all.

Well, his sleeping confessions really reassured you, at the very least.

Based on this request!!

Not proofread!