#I might’ve talked about this before but it still bothers me

[radicalfemimist]

It’s always extremely telling when people talk about female characters negatively, but one I’ve been seeing unfortunately often is Princess Anneliese, from Barbie: Princess and the Pauper.

Why is it that people seem to think Anneliese being a Princess negates her having problems, when she is literally being sold to marry a man she has never met. Criticizing Anneliese for not being just positively thrilled about her position just because she was born into a family with money is insane, and saying Anneliese can’t compare herself to Erika— which she doesn’t, by the way, Erika does— is missing the entire point of the movie phenomenally.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two] [Part Three]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

~

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Dick, and Jason reacting to his gn crush asking him as they're so worried (as his hero persona) if he has seen him & described him while not knowing his secret identity?

Jason wanted nothing more than to tell you to go home, that it was not safe for you to be out this late at night and worried half out of your mind.

He just wanted you somewhere he’d knew you would be safe or could get to in quick timing should something ever happen, which was why when you tried calling his -red hood’s- name, he tried to ignore you but found himself unable to hear you cry out in desperation any longer and looked at you silently as you got closer to him.

‘I’m sorry to bother you but Have- have you seen my friend Jason?’ You ask with tears in your eyes.

‘There’s a lot of Jason’s in Gotham sweetheart, you’re going to be more specific.’ He replied and curses himself for how harsh he might’ve came across. He’ll punch himself later for being a dick to you later.

You dig a hand into your pocket and drew out a picture of yourself and him the night before -unknown to you- he was told about tonight’s patrol. Jason has no clue why you had that moment photographed, nothing special happened other then you two hanging out like you usually did, but knew he was one to talk when he had photos of you and him saved on his phone when he was feeling the need to see your face.

‘He’s six two, male, dark hair with a patch of white in the front, beautiful eyes that have specks of a mystical looking green, almost like their glowing half the time- I’m getting off track sorry. It’s- It’s just I’m worried about him as he promised to text me when he got home, but he never did and I’m scared that something has happened to him.’ You reply to the intimidating vigilante who looked as still as a statue.

‘I can’t loose him.’ You continue as tears streak down your face as your mind poisoned itself into thinking that Jason was dead or slowly dying in an alleyway or an abandoned warehouse and you couldn’t get to him and it killed your in ways you couldn’t describe. ‘Please, I know you’ve probably got better things then to search for a mission person but-‘ you pause to catch your breath when you felt as though your chest was being crushed slowly- ‘I don’t know who else to go to for help.’ You finished, biting down on your wobbling lower lip to prevent another sob from escaping as your eyes blur with tears.

Jason, feeling his heart break the second he saw tears, remembered where he was and who he was in that moment and brought a hand out towards you to place awkwardly on your shoulder, giving it a tight reassuring squeeze as he struggled to not admit to everything then and there if it meant soothing your heart. ‘I shall try my best to help you find your friend, until then you should get off the streets and head home, the nightlife of Gotham isn’t for everyone.’

‘What about you?’ You asked him, wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.

‘I do it so no one else has to.’ Jason or Red Hood replies softly and to wasn’t until now that you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante, but waves it off as some sort of projection you were putting on him in place of Jason. Why? Maybe you’d were in need of reassurance from your friend but couldn’t get that when you were unsure as to where he was without feeeing the worse.

So you look for the next best thing who happened to be a vigilante strapped to the nines with artillery, built like a brick shit house, wears a ruby red helmet and most likely six two, pushing six three with his boots.

‘That’s…’

‘Sad? Pathetic? I’ve heard it all-‘

‘Brave.’ You said interrupting him as Jason felt his heart pick up at your appraisal. Your kind words often took him off guard more often than not but it was something he loved about you more than anything. ‘Admirable even but you should look after yourself.’ You added, struggling to form a smile and Jason wanted nothing more then to hold you in his arms and tell you he was okay, but knew that he’d be putting you in more trouble than not if he did such a thing.

‘Can’t promise anything in this line of work I’m afraid,’ Jason said, ‘but I promise to try and find your friend, no matter what.’ He adds and finds himself smiling behind his mask when you gave him the first genuine smile of the night.

‘Thank you red hood, thank you.’ You cried as you lunged towards him and hugged him tightly, a sense of relief flooding your system almost immediately when you were in his arms. Jason on the other hand just wanted the night to end so that he could get out of his attire and sneak over to your apartment, just to show you that he was okay.

‘Don’t sweat it.’ He mutters under his breath, sometimes hating the life he lives if it meant worrying you half to death.

Dick:

‘Nightwing!’

Dick’s head moved fast at the sound of your voice, something he has just noticed himself doing recently, and felt the need to drop everything just to make sure you were okay.

‘That’s my name, hey are you okay? You know you shouldn’t be out here at night. It’s not safe.’ He tells you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

‘I know that but I was looking for my friend.’ You said to him.

‘And who’s your friend, maybe I can help.’ Dick replies, wanting to do anything he could in his power to keep you out of danger however he could. He didn’t want you to do something reckless and end up getting yourself hurt or even killed over it and he wasn’t anywhere near to prevent it from happening.

‘Dick. Dick Grayson.’ You told him and Dick felt his stomach drop. Him, you were looking for him? Why? ‘He hasn’t answered my calls or texts recently and I’ve gotten worried that something might’ve happened.’ You added as you showed him -nightwing- a picture of himself and Hayley from a couple of days ago. He didn’t know you had taken the photo but the way you did made it look like something taken by a professional photographer.

‘And so your best course of action was to take to the streets of a dangerous city filled with criminals and gangs alike in hopes of finding him?’ Dick asked rhetorically.

You shrugged, never having gave your plan any deeper thought since making it to realise how dangerous it might’ve been to wander Gotham at the dead of night, where crime was most likeliest to be committed. ‘That was the idea.’

Dick sighs. ‘No. What you’re going to do now is go home and leave to finding your devilishly handsome friend to me.’

‘But thi-‘ dick placed his hands on your shoulders and flashed you a reassuring smile. ‘I promise to give your friend a right good scolding for ignoring your texts and calls and to not worry you so often…just let me take it from here, okay?’

You look at nightwing and found yourself trusting this man more than you’d ever have trusted anyone else in your life and sighing. ‘Okay…I just didn’t want to bother you-‘

‘And you’re not bothering me, not at all.’ Dick reassured as he rubs your shoulders in a way that felt weirdly intimate between strangers whom have never met before. ‘I know Gotham like the back of my hand. So I’ll be able to narrow down the places where your friend might be and have him at your doorstep by morning. I promise.’ He finishes lowly as he stares you deeply in your eyes.

‘Okay. I shall leave it to you.’ You told him and dick felt relief in knowing that you were going to be safe and away from all harm. He hated that he was the reason you’d risk doing something such as searching Gotham for him at the dead of night, but he’d rather have you safe then do something risky.

[pupkashi]

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

a/n: hi friends! i hope you enjoy this :] im not sure if i like it very much but I’ll let u guys pick it apart and decide if i should be run off the app or not :P please let me know what u guys think !!

wordcount: 1,376

masterlist

you’re hesitant to knock on the door you’re facing, one arm squeezing your middle and the other holding you up against the wall. you’re sure you looked like we’re about to die, but still you could help but feel like death was a better option than knocking on gojo satoru’s door at 2 in the morning.

the stinging in your side leaves you no choice, lifting your hand and knocking three times. every passing second seems eternal and you almost want to just walk away and head to campus, hoping you make it until morning.

the door swings open, satoru looks at you with wide eyes and messy hair. he looks so normal, you think, taking in his appearance of sweatpants and a t shirt he must’ve thrown on seconds before.

“what the fuck happened to you?” he breathes out, not hesitating to pick you up, carrying you to his restroom and flicking the light on. if you were any more lucid you might’ve caught the genuine concern in his voice and the pounding heart in his chest.

“think the higher ups hate me” you manage to chuckle out, sucking in a sharp breathe when you try to sit up on your own.

satoru is quick to help you up, large hands gently handling you. his brows are furrowed as he looks at the state you’re in.

“why didn’t you call up shoko or go to campus or- literally anything else?!” he scold you, his voice is a higher pitch than you’re used to, he’s running his hands through his hair, tugging slightly before sighing deeply and calming himself down.

“didn’t wanna bother ‘em” you say, voice small. gojo knows in his mind you of all people could never be a bother, especially when shoko absolutely loves you.

“can i take this off?” he asks softly, tugging at your uniform top. you nod weakly, letting him work the fabric off you gently, sucking his teeth when he sees the gash on your side.

“that bad huh?” you laugh, there’s a beat of silence that you find unbearable. your eyes are heavy and the only way you can muster staying awake is by talking, words leaving your mouth without even thinking, “not gonna tell me ‘I’ve had worse’ or ‘this is nothing’ ?”

satoru only brings himself to snicker, “you’re about to pass out and you still wanna bicker with me.”

“to be fair it’s always you starting shit” you chuckle, hissing when he starts cleaning your wound. satoru mumbles a small ‘sorry’ before continuing.

you weren’t completely wrong, satoru always loved seeing you riled up. he loved watching the way the fire ignited behind your eyes when you shot something back at satoru, he loved watching your nose scrunch up when he said something stupid, he loved how you’d fight back smiles when he disrespected some asshole higher up.

“yeah, yeah, you're always saying that” he smiles, finishing up whatever he could on your side before moving to the cuts on your face.

you were still as he gently dabbed the wipes on your face, the slight stinging feeling was the last thing on your mind. the smell of his body wash was muddling your thoughts, the way his fingertips brushed against your skin gave you goosebumps.

“who sent you on the mission?” his voice was no longer playful and light. there was an edge to his voice as he spoke, and you couldn’t stop the chills that ran down your spine.

the only thing you could muster was a small shrug of your shoulders.

“it was the higher ups from last time, wasn’t it? the one you stood up to?” his voice is threatening and low, blue eyes boring into you as you tried to avoid eye contact.

“y/n, look at me” the stern tone left no room for protest, looking at him and gulping. you nodded your head, whispering a small ‘yeah.’ satoru mumbled something you couldn’t hear, his jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

“I’m going to kill them” he spat, taking a step back before look at you again, the sight filling him with even more rage.

“didn’t you say that wouldn’t change anything?” you stated, sitting up as best you could, trying your best to hide the pain you felt from the sudden movement.

satoru ignored your words, already making a move to head out of the bathroom door, but your voice stopped him.

“don’t- i don’t wanna be alone” you whispered, eyes watering a bit as the reality of the situation hit you all at once. “i just- nevermind” you laughed dryly, hissing as you pushed yourself off the countertop and stood.

satoru was immediately at your side holding you up, “what are you-” your words cut him off before he could finish.

“I’m gonna go home, don’t wanna bother you more than i have” you smiled, eyes still a bit teary. you’re brain doesn’t process what’s happening fast enough, only realizing what’s happening a couple seconds later when satoru’s arms are wrapped around your body.

“you aren’t going anywhere” he mumbles against the top of your head, squeezing you gently.

the warmth of his body is enough to comfort you, muscles relaxing and letting your tears spill against his chest.

“why?” you whisper, the question causing satoru to tense up against you. “why do you care so much?”

his thoughts stop for a second, the only thing on his mind is you. the way you’re looking at him in a way you never have before, with an emotion he can’t place. he can only think of one thing.

“isn’t it obvious?” he replies, voice soft, his cheeks heating up and ears burning. he’s trying to hide the slight tremble of his hands as he caressed your cheek softly, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“only obvious thing about you is your ego” you smile, laughing a bit between sniffles as satoru gasps at you.

“and you say i start things?” he giggles, picking you up softly before leading you to his bedroom. the two of you in a comfortable silence as he looks through his drawers, handing you one of his shirts and shorts for you to change into.

“you can drop me off at home-” you begin but satoru is quick to speak over you.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, there’s some toothbrushes in the top drawer under the sink,” he says, continuing to list off any other items you’d need and where to find them.

it’s ten minutes later and you’re laying in the large bed, staring at the ceiling when you find the energy to walk into the hallway, peeking around the corner and into the living room.

satoru smiled at you, the bright tv lights illuminating his figure, “cant sleep?” he asks. you nod your head, slowly making your way towards him. “c’mere” he says softly, gently moving you when you sit on the couch, letting you cuddle into his side until you were comfortable.

between the exhaustion and the comfort of satoru’s fingers running along your arm you were sound asleep in a matter of minutes (10, satoru was counting). he placed a feathery kiss to the top of you head, shifting to pick you up, carrying you to his bed and tucking you in, slipping besides you before facing the opposite direction.

you stirred a bit, mumbling something and causing satoru to turn, “y/n?” he whispered. you seemed to gravitate towards him, one of your arms finding him and tugging his shirt, making him come closer to you. still asleep, you nuzzled yourself against him, sighing softly before stilling again.

satoru draped his arm around you, keeping you close before letting his eyes shut. for tonight, he won’t think about the thing he’ll say and do to the higher ups who sent you on that mission as punishment.

instead he’ll hold you close, keeping you safe and making sure you’re well enough to argue on any and every thing possible. he’ll make you breakfast tomorrow and ask if you feel the same for him. he’ll rush you to shoko so he can kiss you with as much passion and fervor as he’s imagined since the time you almost beat him in an argument.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @luna0713hunter @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags

[agi-ppangx]

love song (bang chan x gn!reader)

angst with a fluffy ending, both chan and reader are producers/songwriters, chan is kinda an asshole for a while but he quickly apologises, not proofread; 1,3k words

author's note: a little fic requested by a lovely anon !! i kinda wrote it in one go and didnt have time to properly correct the mistakes so i apologise for typos and any other stuff >< please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

“time for a break,” you announced with a smile as you entered your little homemade studio holding two bags. “i got us some food and coffee.”

chan looked up at you from his laptop and mirrored your smile, taking both bags from you with a soft thank you. you sat down on the couch with a loud huff and chan handed you your food. 

“you wanna listen to the song? i made a few touch ups to that part we were struggling with,” he asked, sipping on his americano and you nodded, mouth full of the pasta. 

as soon as chan played the song you closed your eyes, letting yourself be completely engulfed by the music. 

it was a rather upbeat melody, but when you were writing the lyrics a while ago you tried to make it really emotional and, what’s most important, true. some might think it’s cliché to constantly write songs about your lover, but it comes naturally to you. the emotions you pour into the lyrics, the memories and wishes, everything is about you and chan. and even as you sell your songs to various artists, you always know exactly who it’s about when they sing it. 

you snapped your eyes open around the middle of the song as one fragment of a few seconds did not sound as it should. 

“wait, let me listen to it again” you said with a frown and he wordlessly rewinded the song for a few seconds. “why does it sound so weird?” you mumbled to yourself as that one part was just not right. you took a sip of coffee from your cup, trying to understand what changed about the song. you two were talking about that part a few days before and…

“channie, did you change the melody?” you asked in disbelief. he turned around to look at you, but your irritated expression didn’t make any impression on him. 

“yeah, it sounds better now, right?” you huffed loudly, getting up from your place on the couch to walk your anger away. 

“i told you i want this part to sound specifically as it did before! why would you change it? we talked about it,” you let out, your voice getting louder with each word spoken. 

“relax, baby, it’s not a big deal,” he explained calmly, trying to reach for your hand, but you were quicker, taking it away and putting it in the pocket of his hoodie that you were wearing. 

“no, it’s the fact that it’s the first time we finally work together and you already don’t listen to my advice.” 

it was chan’s turn to huff, he was visibly getting annoyed by your words. “this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t make one of it.” 

“this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t ignore my opinion.”

“alright, yn, let’s just stop this. i’m getting tired of this conversation,” he said, turning around and putting his headphones on, pretending to work on some other track just so you wouldn’t bother him anymore.

you stood in the room for a while longer, staring at chan in pure shock. he may have pretended to be busy, but as you finally decided to leave the studio he noticed how you wiped your face and he sure heard the loud thud the door made as you slammed them. you went straight to your bedroom, wrapping yourself in the blanket and trying to stifle your sobs. 

hours passed as you finally sat up, grabbing your notebook to write some ideas for new songs. your eyes were still puffy as you scribbled down random words and rhymes, desperately trying to take off your mind from the argument, but no matter how hard you tried the situation came back to you like a boomerang. you weren’t sure if chan did it purposely or if he simply forgot about your conversation - you knew he was busy, so it might’ve slipped out of his mind. but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt you. 

both of you dreamed of working together for a long time - someone might think that you two could easily just write some songs for each other in your home studio. isn’t that enough? people say, but you always say that it’s different to play around on a saturday evening with a glass of wine and to write and produce tracks for other artists. it is a big deal to you - the fact that the song you both worked on will be featured on another artist’s album, heard by thousands, if not millions of people, and they all will hear about your love for chan and only you will know who it’s about.

a soft knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. you put down the notebook, keeping a firm look on chan as he quietly closed the door behind him. he was already in his pyjamas, ready to sleep, and you fought the urge to send him to sleep on the couch.  

“you still mad?” he asked with hesitation dripping down his voice. you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to say something other than the obvious. “listen, i feel really bad.”

“as you should.”

he sighed, scratching the back of his head. “i know. but i don’t wanna go to sleep without talking.” he said desperately, taking a few steps onward and carefully sitting on the other side of the bed. 

you exhaled loudly. you also didn’t want to leave it like this. “it really hurt me, y’know?” you started, feeling as the tears started to well up in your eyes. “we literally talked about the song a few days ago and i told you how i want that particular fragment to sound like and you agreed. then why-” your voice broke a little as a few tears ran down your cheeks. chan was quick to wipe them off and this time you didn’t stray from his touch. “-why would you change it now? i just don’t understand.”

chan took a moment to think before he spoke again. “i have nothing to say in my defence,” he started quietly. “i was just bored yesterday when i couldn’t sleep and decided to change a few things about the song and i just forgot to leave that part be. i’m so sorry, baby, i know i shouldn’t have behaved like that earlier, i don’t know what had gotten into myself,” he confessed, his cheeks now cherry red as shame filled his body. he didn’t look at you, he couldn’t, because he knew he fucked up.

“let that be your first warning,” you said firmly after what felt like eternity to chan. “i’m not that experienced as you when it comes to producing songs, but i would really appreciate you actually listening to my ideas. just talk to me whenever you want to make changes like that, okay?” chan nodded quickly. 

“i will. i’m really sorry, my baby.”

“i know you are.”

“are we okay now?” he asked hesitantly. 

“yeah, we are.” you smiled softly as chan’s body visibly relaxed at your words. “but i’m still hurt though.” 

“will a kiss make it better?” he proposed, a bit bolder now as the atmosphere around you wasn’t so tense anymore. you didn’t respond, leaning over to place a peck on his lips with a smile. 

“maybe a little bit,” you giggled. chan captured your face in his hands, looking you deeply in the eyes. 

“by the way i changed that part,” he confessed. “it sounds exactly how you wanted it to.”

you grinned, whispering a soft thank you, and chan finally kissed you, making the world around you disappear. you didn’t know how long it was before you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily.

that night you held him in your arms, letting him rest his head on your chest so he could hear your heartbeat and to his surprise it was his favourite love song that you ever created.

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

[disneyprincemuke]

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

[lovebugism]

hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins. 

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask. 

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces. 

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side. 

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van. 

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness. 

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival. 

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry. 

Eddie’s already nodding. 

You smile and continue. 

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth. 

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

[ageofstarkey]

yes, really ✰ m. riddle

prompt: “i knew you’d be here”

summary: you’re drawing in the astronomy tower to clear your head & mattheo finds you

pairing/dynamic: best friend!mattheo x reader, mutual pining but they don’t really talk about it???? just two oblivious besties in love w each other

warnings: mentions of smoking (cigarettes), very very mild innuendo?? not even??? idk i think that’s pretty much it

note: i’m actually very happy with this one (i think) so i hope y’all enjoy :) i’m still planning on working on some requests, but i just wanted to start w something cute n fun while i had the inspo

masterlist

comments & reblogs are so appreciated!! <3

✰ ✰ ✰

“can’t sleep?”

in other circumstances, you might’ve been startled - but you recognize the voice in a second.

mattheo stands just inches away from you - the scuffed toes of his black chucks nearly touching your own.

with a soft little sigh, you set aside your sketchbook. “no. what about you?”

mattheo shrugs, before moving to sit beside you. “haven’t even bothered to try yet.” he slides down the wall, letting his long legs sprawl in front of him. then - with his thigh pressed up against your own, he begins fishing around in his jacket pocket. you watch him curiously, lips quirking upwards in understanding when he produces a familiar gold zippo and a pack of smokes.

even though it’s a miserably cold night, the heat of mattheo’s leg against your own is enough to make you dizzy. in a vain attempt to calm your quickly beating heart, you draw your legs up against your chest, before wrapping your arms around them. you watch as mattheo slots a cigarette between his lips, letting your cheek fall against your knees. “you know those are bad for you, right?”

he offers you a familiar little grin, cigarette bobbing between his lips as he responds. “i had no idea.”

you roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his. “you should quit.”

“maybe you should pick it up.”

a quiet little giggle slips past your lips. “could you imagine me smoking?”

mattheo laughs softly as he exhales, and you pretend not to notice how he blows the smoke away from you. “not really.” he takes another slow drag, and you watch distractedly as the cherry illuminates his handsome features. “it’d be hot though.” he says the words casually, through a mouthful of smoke, and your cheeks suddenly feel like they’re on fire.

“mattheo!”

he shrugs with his lips tugged upwards in an infuriating smirk. “what?”

you roll your eyes fondly, suddenly unable to look at anything but your shoes. “you are such an arse.”

for a few moments, the two of you slip into a comfortable silence. while mattheo finishes his half-smoked cigarette, you gaze distractedly up at the stars. eventually, you grow tired of the quiet - opting to ask the question you’d been mulling over since he turned up in front of you. “why’d you come up here, anyways?”

mattheo’s quiet for a second and your mind races anxiously in wait. then, he stubs out the end of his cigarette with a shrug. “i knew you’d be here.”

your heart aches fondly in your chest. “really?”

another shrug, and then he’s turning to you with this soft little smile that seems to be reserved for you and you alone. “yes, really.”

he says it as if it’s obvious - maybe it is - and you can hardly contain your stupid little giggle. “oh.”

“oh?” mattheo’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, but his knowing-grin never wavers.

it’s your turn to shrug - you’re not sure if you can bring yourself to do anything more at this point.

he bumps his shoulder against yours, leaning in to look at you. “is it a good “oh” at least?”

he’s being awful on purpose and you pretend to hate it. with a meek little nod, you finally meet his eyes. “it’s a good “oh””

mattheo grins, dropping his arm across your shoulders. “good.”

[unheavenlyvision]

SLEEP OVER PT.2

ʚ⁺˖⤷ part one

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 4.8k

summary: the night carries on but you can't forget what toji promised... you're hoping he plans on following through tonight, you just need to try and not make a fool of yourself first

a/n; i finished it... sorry it took me so long to upload it, i'm completely read up on the manga now and i want to end it all but we carry on i guess

warnings: 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, dirty talk, cunnilingus, dacryphilia, light pussy slapping, tease!toji, possessive!toji, fingering, cum play, big dick!toji, p in v sex, cockwarming but not really, afab!reader, no use of y/n or pronouns, nicknames used: doll, honey

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

The shower water runs down your body, cleaning you of the mess made, relaxing your muscles. As you wash yourself, you can’t help but wonder when ‘later’ is, what did he mean by it? Did he mean later tonight? Or later as in… a later date? You wish he had been more specific, though he was kind of preoccupied at the time so you can understand the lack of details on his part.

Before you had gotten up to shower, Toji had offered his help but you felt embarrassed accepting the offer and had told him you’d be fine on your own. Now, you kind of regret it, imagining his hard body pressed up against yours has your body getting hot, the thoughts less than innocent.

Hopping out the shower and drying yourself off, you tug on the fresh clothes, mainly the bottoms needed replacing, you feel bad for ruining his clothes and then borrowing more but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, based on his reaction to you in his clothes, you have a feeling he prefers it this way.

Walking back out into the main area you announce to Toji, “The shower’s free.”

“Ah, good, I feel gross,” his face scrunches slightly.

Smiling to yourself, you hum, “Take your time.”

He shuffles off down the hall to the bathroom, wanting to be in fresh clothes as soon as possible… maybe you should’ve let him go first… or at least let him shower with you. You feel a little bad now, in hindsight, he might’ve needed the shower more.

Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you continue your journey into the kitchen. The brownies were too hot before so you let them cool a bit, you’re looking forward to them. It’s been a while since you made some, that’s still kind of true though, since Toji mostly made them.

You can’t help but snicker at the crispy edges, they’re honestly not that burnt. While Toji is in the shower, you cut them up and stack them onto a plate. Obviously, you have one, leaning against the bench and indulging, still yummy. Maybe you’d be a little more bothered by the toughness of them but knowing Toji made them just because of a light-hearted comment from you makes them even better.

Off in the clouds, you think about how much you adore him and his kindness to you, as well as his patience. Eyes slipping closed for a moment, you find yourself thinking about him, under you, moaning, how he spoke to you, how he gave you one of the best orgasms of your life through your clothes. It was honestly quite impressive of him.

Breath against your neck, he asks, “What you thinking about?”

His sudden closeness and low voice makes you jump and gasp, “Toji! Jesus… you scared me…”

He smiles at you, amused, “So?”

“So?” You repeat, not sure what he’s asking and getting even more lost when you notice that he’s only in a towel. It sits low on his hips, water trailing down his abs and beneath the towel. He’s completely distracting, is he talking? He might be talking…

One of his hands grabs your face, your cheeks squishing slightly with how he’s holding you and bringing your eyeline back up to look him in the eyes, “You back?”

You nod wordlessly at him.

“I asked what you were thinking about,” he asks his previous question again.

“Uhmm…” you’re feeling warm, how are you meant to tell him you were thinking about him moaning while you humped against him, “I was thinking about the brownies… they turned out good…”

His eyes watch you in a way that tells you he knows you’re lying… and poorly at that, “Are you sure?”

You try cementing your answer, sticking to your lie, but it sadly comes out more like a question, “Yes?”

Humming, he teases, “You sure you’re not having perverted thoughts ‘bout me?”

Oh god, you might pass out, “I would never… I mean I would… obviously but not just… now…”

As you stumble stupidly, he only lights up more, enjoying your obvious struggle, “You sure? You’re looking awful guilty right now, doll.” His hand lets go of your face but he’s moved in closer, eyes glinting with mischief as he watches you.

Trying to change the subject, you reach for the small bit of brownie you had left, “Try this.” You say, shoving it into his mouth.

He eats the brownie, his brows pulled up in a way that tells you he’s trying not to laugh at how flustered he got you, “You’re cute.”

“And you’re persistent,” you grumble, moving your finger to your mouth, going to lick the rest of the brownie off.

Toji’s hand reaches for you wrist stopping you, before you can process what he’s doing, he’s leaning down and sucking your fingers into his mouth. Tongue licking lightly at you, his eyes dark but playful as he watches how you turn into a sputtering mess in front of him.

He pulls back and comments, “It was good.”

“You are an unbearable–”

“–But you know, it occurs to me…” His body moves closer to yours and his hands reach for either side of your head, “…There is something else I would much rather taste right now.”

Opening your mouth, you go to call his name, tell him he’s an unbearable tease, that he embarrasses you so easily but it’s all lost on you when his mouth is crashing down onto yours. His tongue in your mouth immediately, his lips insistent, fervent, hot. He kisses you dirty and wet, it’s dizzying, he kisses you like you’re a whore and it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

His body crowds you in against the bench, leaning into you, your only choice to grab at his shoulders and try and kiss him back as passionately as he’s kissing you. He gives you a minor reprieve, his lips pulling back, both of you breathing heavy into each other’s mouths. You feel dizzy and stupid, thinking about how large and firm he is pressed up against you.

Breathlessly, you ask, “Is it later yet?”

And fuck, how can Toji possibly say no when you’re looking at him with those big, wet eyes. His kiss pulling you apart like this just makes him want to see how much more he could possibly ruin you. He curses as he tugs you down the hall after him, he’s going to give you what you both need.

In his room, he grabs the pants and boxers of his you’re wearing and tugs them off in one swift motion, “Toji!” You gasp, not expecting his speed.

“Sorry, doll but I need to hurry this along or I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” he pushes you back until you fall onto his bed, bouncing lightly with the force. Body in the centre of his large bed, you hold your knees together as you jostle. He’s crawling onto the bed after you and resting on his knees, his hands on yours.

Any response you want to or could give dies on your tongue because he’s pulling your legs apart, putting you on obscene display. Eyes staring shamelessly at your wet pussy, you feel red hot and extremely embarrassed. Your hands reach for your shirt and pull it down, covering yourself, trying to retain some of your decency.

Toji growls at you, not approving of your choice, one of his own hands moving off your knees to pull your hand away, “Come on…” he groans, not moving your hand by force even though he definitely could, “Your boyfriend wants to see your pretty, little cunt.”

You whinge, “Toji… it’s embarrassing…”

“No, the fuck it isn’t…it’s fuckin hot,” he sounds pained, desperate, “Please doll…”

Slipping your hand away, you let him do as he pleases. Other hand coming off your knee, he uses both of them to bunch your shirt up your torso. His palms move along your skin, raising goose bumps in their wake, he slowly trails them back to your knees. Then he’s pulling your legs apart again, biting his lower lip as he watches your pussy, eyes stuck on you, on how your cunt twitches for him, how your arousal drools from your cunt.

“I’m putting my mouth on you,” his voice is deep, so effected by you, pussy whipped and he’s not even had you yet.

God, you feel so timid, he makes you feel inexperienced, “…Okay.”

He’s quick to lean down at your acknowledgement, he’s wet, sloppy, licking at you with no particular rhythm. He’s just desperate to taste you, he’s got you arching your back and gasping, fingers digging into the mattress. You’re biting your lip to hold back, not wanting to bother his neighbours but it’s hard when he’s making out with your cunt in such a diabolical way, almost like he’s attempting to get you to scream.

His lips wrap around your clit and suck, a gasped whine resulting from the pressure, a sound that Toji deeply appreciates, the groan he releases at the needy sound sending delicious vibrations through you. Your hips twitch, your thighs going to lock around his head, his hands hold you open. They hold you so open that if he hadn’t just switched from sucking on your clit to fucking his tongue inside your cunt, you might have cared about how lewd the display was.  

Vaguely, you’re aware of the mess he’s making, his saliva and your pussy leaking onto his bed in an absolutely debauched display, “Toji– ah– it’s messy,” you manage to force out.

He grunts into you, his nose rubbing against your clit, he’s not at all concerned with the mess, in fact, he’s fucking in love with it. Pulling back for a moment, he nips your thigh, “Mhmm let’s see just how fuckin messy you can get, doll.”

His words make your insides twist in such a filthy way, his words have an effect on you that you wish you didn’t find so delicious but unfortunately your body is a traitor and you can’t help the way your hole clenches around nothing. Something that Toji takes note of because of fucking course he does, he doesn’t say anything but he hums thoughtfully.

Grabbing higher on your thighs, he puts his mouth back on you, drinking down your slick, relishing in the taste of you. Fuck the goddamn brownies he thinks, this is what a real good sleepover needs.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, the feeling has you buzzing, your hips jerking against his face. Unaware of how you’re desperately rutting into him, seeking more friction, movements needy and so unrestrained. Pleasure addled brain not feeling shame, only Toji’s mouth, his tongue.

The sloppy sounds of him making out with your cunt filling the room, a sound that burns through you, sounding so wet, so ruined, how are you meant to make it out alive when he’s licking at you like a man on the brink of death seeking salvation. Small moans and grunts leaving him at the way you twitch and gush into his mouth, his own pleasure from this immense.

He forces your legs up and apart even wider, something you didn’t think possible, you don’t even know how you’re bending like this. Your fingers are tugging at his bed sheets, your brain fuzzy, your feet feel hot as your orgasm approaches. Gasping out to Toji as your high starts in the tips of your toes and travels up.

Your undoing is the way Toji shakes his head between your legs, his nose rubbing against your clit. Your pussy seizing around his tongue, as he realises you’re cumming, he’s pulling his tongue out of you and latching his mouth onto you instead, drinking you down as you cum into his mouth.

The moan you let out is pornographic and a sound you don’t even really register as something you’re able to do. The way he’s ruined you with his mouth delights him, feeling like he’s on cloud nine at the way you sound so pathetic for him, fucked out from just this much.

He fears he’s going to want to push you so much farther, just how do you look after he’s given you so many orgasms you cry? But fuck as he looks at you in the eyes now, he thinks it wouldn’t take much to make you cry for him at all, your eyes already so so wet for him.

Suddenly he’s struck with the memory of how placid and dazed you looked after he kissed you, he’ll have to remember this for the future too. Now having plans for kissing you until you cry for him, he thinks it might be possible…yeah, looking in your eyes, he definitely feels it possible.

Leaning down over you, he kisses you deeply, just so you can taste yourself on him. Your hazy brain reciprocates, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down into you, wanting his weight on you. Kissing him makes your heart soar, never sick of his lips, never sick of him.

Trailing kisses from your mouth to your cheek and down your jaw, he speaks into your ear, “Still want it? Or was this enough for you?”

“Never enough, Toji… always want more of you,” the words are murmured back to him, still slightly absent, floating after your orgasm.

“Greedy huh?” He teases, though he has a feeling you might actually be a needy little thing, not that he minds.

Your head tucks into his chest, “Don’t be mean…”

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

You shake your head against him, telling him no, you don’t like it.

He knows it’s a lie though, “You sure? You could’ve had me fooled…” He pulls up and back, looking down at you, his fingers sliding through your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it all over your cunt, “…Making an awful big mess for this mean man.”

Your hips wiggle against him, “Hah– Toji~”

He’s still playing with your pussy, never touching you exactly how you need him to, his fingers just grazing your clit before circling your hole and then back up, “Hmm? Need something?”

You’re reluctant but you don’t have the strength to fight him, choosing instead to give in quickly and hope he shows mercy, “You…please…”

“Me? But I’m so mean to you…” he’s smiling, frankly, too large, enjoying teasing you like this.

“That’s –hah–  true…” your words are spoken through choked gasps, Toji’s still teasing you evilly, “S-should I find ah– someone nicerrr?”

“Oh?” oh, he did not like that, “Should you find someone nicer?”

You don’t know how to reply, “I… uhm…”

“Maybe you should…” his hand slaps against your cunt lightly, the sound of your wet pussy loud in the otherwise quiet room, “But would they make you this fuckin wet? Doll, you really should be more honest with yourself.”

Through your immense embarrassment, you mutter out, “I’m sorry.”

His fingers switch to stroking at you, fingers circling your pussy hole, “I know you are, now say how horny your boyfriend makes you…”

You start off strong, “Toji, you make me…”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch it all,” one of his fingers probes at you, pushing in slightly, he seems to have gotten distracted, “Look at the way your pussy sucks my finger in, needy fuckin thing.”

Forcing yourself, you rush out, “You make ah– mehorny, Toji~”

“Don’t I fuckin know it,” he laughs wistfully, eyes on your cunt and how his finger is gently fucking into you.

You’re getting frustrated, you want to feel full, you want him inside you, you want him to do something more. You want him to show mercy or pity or something, anything that will have him shoving his cock inside you.

“I want–”

He cuts you off, voice curt, “–Why should I care what you want? I’m mean, remember?

“No nononono, you’re so –ah nice to me, Toji. Always treating me so nicely, make me so happy,” you’re desperate but you’re also not lying.

“That so?”

Nodding your head, you add, “Mhm, yeah, make me feel so cared for.”

He sounds amused, “Changed your mind pretty quick there, doll.”

“I want you inside me,” you all but sob out.

He coos at you, “I am inside you.” His finger pumps, curling upwards, stroking your inner walls in a way that makes your stomach seize with pleasure.

Shaking your head, you whinge, “Want your –mmph.”

He’s smiling too large for someone who’s feigning ignorance, “Want my what?”

“Please fuck me, Toji,” you look at him with wet eyes, pleading with him, “please pleasepleaseplease.”

The sight of you begging for him to fuck you has him folding embarrassingly quickly but you look like you could cry and he’s suddenly not got the strength to tease you anymore. “Alright, doll,” he hushes you; you’re still pleading quietly with him.

He eases his finger out of you, his hands tugging your shirt off quickly before pulling his towel off. Leaning down, he presses soft kisses to your head, trying to make up for how worked up he got you, maybe he should’ve been nicer to you for your first official time together.

“I’m okay… I’m fine.”

He moves back to look you in the eye, “You sure?”

Nodding, “Mhm, yeah, promise,” you smile up at him and he thinks you look beautiful right now.

“Alright… Remember to breathe through it.”

And at the time that comment had seemed incredibly egotistical of him but as he’s pressing the tip of his cock into you, you understand his advice a little bit more. It wasn’t his ego talking, it was his experience and concern and you find your lungs stuttering as you struggle to intake breath as he stretches you open.

“Breathe, doll, relax,” he reminds, his thumb circling your clit, trying to get you to relax for him.

You’re practically choking his dick, your cunt fluttering around him, he can’t move the tiniest bit forward without the grip you have on him increasing. Your small moans and gasps making it difficult for him to maintain focus, he’s trying to be so careful, he knows how big he is and as much as he jokes about being mean, the absolute last thing he’d want to do is hurt you.

“Honey, you need to relax,” he’s trying to keep his tone even and soothing but he sounds strained, his focus continually drawing back to your pussy and how you’re trying so hard to take him, “Taking me so well, just breathe for me.”

His voice praising you and being so kind makes your heart ache, his free hand strokes up and down your thigh, calming. Finally, you ease up slightly and he slips deeper, the sounds you both let out are ones of relieved pleasure, the pain ebbing away. You want him deeper; your legs wrap around his waist and you tug him down into you.

You don’t get to pull him in that far, his hand moving to your pelvis and holding himself back, “Doll,” it comes out through gritted teeth, his restraint wavering, “I know it feels good –holy fuck– I know but you’re going to hurt yourself if you force it.”

You sigh out, “Wan it.”

“You think I don’t?” He snipes back.

“Wanna feel full, Toji.”

His eyes look dark, full of promise, “You will.”

It’s a process, taking all of him, he pulls his hips back and fucks you carefully on just about half his cock, taking it slow. He’s already getting lost in pleasure, it runs up his spine and into his limbs. Slowly but surely, he opens you up on his dick, eventually fucking you full of him.

The moment he bottoms out and can fully press up against you has you keening into him, your nails on his back and your legs hugging him close. Before he picks a pace, he holds steady for a moment, enjoying your skin on his, the feeling of your snug cunt wrapped around him sinfully tight. Quite frankly, he can’t move too soon, he might blow his load deep inside you before he can manage to get you to cream on his cock and that would be an awful shame.

You don’t know what he’s waiting on, he’s so fucking big inside you, tip kissing your cervix, he’s pressing up against all the most perfect spots but he’s just laying on top of you. He’s kissing your cheek and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. He’s being so tender with you and if you weren’t so desperate and dazed, you’d find it more endearing but right about now, you just want him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Sick of the wait, you rut up into him, grinding pitifully against him, “Move…” you huff out before tacking on a pretty “please,” for good measure.

“Just a moment more, honey,” he hums, nosing at the side of your face, “Be patient.”

He’s twitching inside you and he feels so fucking hot and heavy and you’re not able to think straight. You want it so bad and he’s not giving it to you, he’s been so mean. You’re gushing around him so obscenely, your cunt drooling on him and the bed, the mess you’re making getting worse by the second but all you can think about is how good just the weight of him inside you is and if he doesn’t move you’re going to fucking cry.

Regretfully, you choke on a small sob, “I’ve been so patient though.”

Oh, and the sound of you so pathetic makes Toji nearly dump all his cum inside your tight cunt in that same second and when he pulls back to look at you the sight is no better. You’ve actually begun shedding a couple tears over him not fucking you and if he were a better man he would be ashamed over just how turned on he gets from it. But he’s not a better man, and he’s mean.

“Aw honey,” he coos at you, cruelly, “Crying over my dick?”

“Please, be nice to me?”

He kisses you hotly, tongue in your mouth, his kiss devouring and full. He nips you a little as he pulls back, “And how do I do that?”

You frown at him, somewhat exasperated and on the brink of sobbing, “Fuck. Me.”

“Anything for you, doll,” he smiles at you in an unkind way.

He says that but he’s been such a bastard and a tease tonight, you want to say something in reply about how he’s not made it feel like that but the heavy drag of his cock pulling from you and slamming back in very suddenly has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, choked moans forcing themselves from you.

The pace he sets is brutal and the sight of you going so stupid so soon has a dark chuckle leaving him, extremely pleased with himself and the state of you. Your cunt seems to love him a lot, sucking him right back in the second he leaves, he wasn’t lying earlier, you really do take him so well.

So responsive and so fucking wet, walls soft and gooey and soaked. A part of him thinks he may have died and gone to heaven because there’s no way a feeling like this exists on the awful planet he’s currently living on but then he looks down at you and hears the way you sigh and moan for him and he remembers that you are very real and he is very much alive.

Every time he pulls his dick from you and shoves it back inside, more of your slick gushes from you and onto the bed and of course he’s going to tease you for it, “Got such ah– messy pussy, doll.”

You whinge at him, not enjoying his observation but that also makes him chuckle because he didn’t mean it in a bad way. There isn’t anything about fucking you that is bad to him, you’re divine, thighs twitching and cunt fluttering on him deliciously. He’d say he could die a happy man right now but he thinks before that can happen he needs to have the sinful sight of you creaming on his cock burned into his memory.

His pace is dizzying, are you even still present? He’s in so deep it almost hurts, your head moves to the side, tears slipping from your eyes again but for completely different reasons. The pleasure you’re feeling overwhelming in more ways than just one. Is sex meant to feel like this? If it is, you’ve been doing it wrong.

Toji’s hand pulls your face back to him, “Keep your –hnng– eyes on me.”

“I ha– can’t, it’s toooo much,” you whimper to him, the sound of it making his dick twitch.

He shakes his head at you, “Be good and just do as I say.”

You’ll try, you will but keeping your eyes from rolling back is so hard and his eye contact is so intense and you’re already so fucking close to cumming like this. You see the moment Toji realises this, his eyes lighting up and his pace quickening.

“Fuck,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, it slows his pace slightly, making it harder for him to fuck you through it, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

“Toji, I hah–”

“I know,” he grunts, “Go on, doll, soak me.”

God he sounds wrecked, his words send you over the edge and you cum all over his dick, your cunt seizing on him. Slick coating his cock, white, creamy ring forming at the base of him. His eyes lock onto the sight, enjoying the obscene display, relishing in it. It was everything he fucking wanted and more. He could make you cum on his dick for hours, just to see how sticky and messy you could make him.

The pitiful little whimpers of his name that you let out and the tears staining your cheeks have him almost cumming inside you. At the last second he pulls out and furiously jacks himself off, his dick twitching as he releases all over your pussy, aiming at your lower stomach and cunt, next time he’s going to remember to ask if he can cum inside because that’s the only thing that could’ve made this better for him. Distantly, he thinks it might not be too late to ask.

“Hey, honey…” you hum out at him and he continues, “You on birth control?”

It takes you a second, like your brain is buffering, “Mhm.”

At your answer, he begins scooping his cum up with two fingers and gently pushing it inside your perfect pussy. His attention completely and fully on the way you twitch and try to push out what he stuffs inside you. It makes you whine; you’re feeling incredibly sensitive, your legs try to close but he keeps them open, not done watching yet.

“So fuckin messy,” he comments.

You sulk out at him, “Stop.”

He laughs at your objection, “Sorry, doll.” He leans down and kisses your cheek softly; a stark contrast to how he fucks.

You’re not completely present still, fighting the urge to sleep, Toji’s bed is soft but you notice that his warmth isn’t nearby and you try to push yourself up, only half succeeding. Toji walks back into the room, sweats low on his hips and a cup of water in his hand. He helps you into a full sitting position.

“Drink this,” he hands you the cup and you take it with two hands, feeling weak and shaky. He’s smiling so fondly at you.

Quickly, he goes to the bathroom to find and dampen a washcloth. Once he’s back in the room, he cleans you up carefully, first he wipes your tear-stained cheeks, trying so hard to be gentle. Then he moves to wipe your skin of his and your own cum.

You’re still holding the now empty cup as you sit and sway slightly. He plucks it from your grasp and places it on the nightstand before discarding the washcloth. On his way back to you he finds the shirt of his you had on previously, slipping it back on you. You’re completely pliant like this, eyes barely open, he gets into bed behind you, his front to your back.

“Did such a good job,” he whispers into your ear, kissing you there.

“I think…” you lean back into him more, snuggling in, “You nearly killed me.”

“I went easy on you,” he murmurs back. It’d be funny if you thought he was joking but you have a nagging feeling that he is not.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[heartsforseo]

Straw hats with a member/ S/o who still sleeps with plushies.

A/n: so I’ve been gone for almost 2 months but shhh I got some motivation now😼😼. PLUS I got this inspo from reading something somewhere. SO TY FOR GIVING ME THE THINGY TO WRITE AGAIN. request=open requested: <yes> <no> wc:970 ft: the straw hats (excluding chopper) warning: ??

⭑Luffy honestly wouldn’t care. If he ever crashes into your room (girls' room) and sleeps on your bed, he’d even shove the stuff toys away.

⭑When he sees your pouting/sad face he’d be clueless and continue whining for you to hop on the bed with him.

⭑When you finally told him why you were mad, he just tilted his head and let out a LONG sigh

⭑Would use his gum-gum abilities and get all your stuffy back in the bed (while groaning. He does NOT want to share)

⭑Speaking of sharing, why coddle a plushie when you have Luffy? Would def get jealous and maybe even tear one of them.

⭑P.s. He did…

⭑Zoro, just like Luffy, couldn’t be bothered. He’d probably think of it as a design at first. I mean, a pirate sleeping with plushies??? That’s rare

⭑But as the creator said, everyone in the crew is a weird person. So, here you are—in your room. Shock and in awe.

⭑Believe it or not, Zoro was sleeping with one of your plushies (that looked like a reindeer…)

⭑He had always denied sleeping next/with them. (Only if you convinced him enough, he’d let out a groan but still follow)

⭑You’d have to tease him about it now. I mean, Zoro sleeping before you??? Shocking with that 3 hrs sleep schedule.

⭑And a certain chef might’ve heard what you’ve said and used it against a certain swordsman…

⭑Nami, would even tax the poor plushies:~((

⭑Jokes aside, she’ll think of it as cute and nice decorations. They’re cuddly, colorful, and good for distress.

⭑But sometimes there’s a limit. She couldn’t even sleep on her OWN bed cuz of how many you got.

⭑Would roll her eyes when she saw you pout and give you a 35% discount.

⭑To help you get “rid” (as she says) of plushies, she’ll take a mini tangerine and place it on her work desk.

⭑Now she talks to it after dinner, drawing the map of the world.

⭑Ussop I’d say would make a story about how he once traveled to a stuffed toy island.

⭑Everything there was colorful, soft, and cuddly! He’d even point at one of your plushies and say he met them on the island!

⭑Your plushie would just stare and stare and stare… Until Ussop had to let out a fake cough and do his other stuff.

⭑He’d ask for your permission to get one of your plushies for support. (You said yes ofc).

⭑Now, whenever he has to modify Nami’s weapon/ whenever he’s alone from the group—he’ll hold the small plushie tightly and hug it, waiting for ideas to pop up.

⭑Sanji the beigest of them all. I could see Sanji:

⭑1) getting jealous about it. You have a whole husband in front of you. And you’re picking the plushie to cuddle…THAN HIM?!

⭑Would give the plushie dirty stares (especially if it was given by someone not him/by his crew)

⭑When you’re doing something else, he’d wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your neck.

⭑He’d give the plushie a smirk and laugh a bit. (Nurse gising na po sya)

⭑OR

⭑2) Sanji would write that down in his “All about Y/n!” Notebook and put hearts all over it.

⭑He would give you plushies, and on every island you visit, he insists on getting you at least one stuffed animal.

⭑Would even sculpt one of his foods as your plushie.

⭑Plus he’d get all giddy iddy when he sees you coddling the plushie he bought. It’s really satisfying to see when the person you love appreciates what they give you.

⭑Robin would let out a smile and maybe even tease you (when she's feeling it)

⭑Might get jealous when you're spending more of your time with them. She's your crew member and s/o, you should focus on her!

⭑She once woke up with your back in front of her, and you were cuddling your plushie.

⭑Sad to say you couldn't find your stuffies for a week… :(

⭑But Robin was there for you!

⭑In the end, it was a win-win situation!

⭑FRANKY FOUND IT CUTE CUTE CUTE.

⭑While you were worrying about how he'll react (unknowingly to you, he already found out and named one of them cola jr.) Franky already made a small plushie (robot) that does the SUPEERRRRRRR with him.

⭑When he saw you sad that one of your plushies got teared up, he'd secretly take it and repatch it (w/h metal scraps)

⭑Would sweat when you confronted him about it, and even DENY IT.

⭑"Franky you're the only one I know that'd use metal scraps for repair…"

⭑"Oh."

⭑Brook is a cutie patootie.

⭑He already knows what you like, from the panties you wear to the plushies you like!

⭑Would make one of those and have some delightful little tea parties. If you're too occupied to join in, why not let your mini-version take part instead?

⭑Anyways, if you'd ever show him a soul king merch/plushie. HE'D FLY OVER THE MOONN.

⭑He didn't know they were selling those! Especially when the cane he has can be removed and shown as a knife.

⭑Our good boy Jinbe.

⭑While on his trip, he saw a lot of them. But of course wouldn't bother to buy one.

⭑I mean, you're on a business trip for sake. And a pirate should always be ready and need no time for aesthetics.

⭑Well, that's what he thought BEFORE he met you. When he saw your room he was SHOOK

⭑How did you have time for all of this? How were you gonna sleep? How will you keep them clean?

⭑Many thoughts were roaming in his head. But when he saw your adoring smile, he made up his mind and would do anything to make you happy.

⭑Even keeping your plushies clean.

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed it. nd sorry for the almost 2-month break.

[beenbaanbuun]

Hey!! I just read your most recent Addams!MATZ fic and the angst is DELICIOUS. Your talent for writing is incredible and your creativity really shines through with each and every fic. The fluff, angst, and even the smut are so wonderfully well done, you're one of my favorite ATEEZ writers.

If you're up to it, and feel free to ignore this, but I'd love to see a part two to the angst Addams!MATZ where seonghwa talks to hongjoong and hongjoong comes to apologize. If that's not something you see yourself continuing, I completely understand!

Make sure to keep yourself healthy and hydrated and get plenty of rest.

thank you for the compliments!!! they mean the world to me. i’m glad that my passion for writing and my love for these boys shines through in my work. here is a continuation <333

——————————————————————————

seonghwa doesn’t even bother to knock before barging into his husbands office. yes, he thinks anger is an ugly emotion, but that doesn’t mean he is immune to it. in fact, it’s the only thing running through him as he steps through the doorway and slams the heavy slab of oak behind him. hongjoong hasn’t shown you the courtesy of being polite; why should seonghwa show his husband the same.

upon hearing the bang of the door, the overworked businessman turns around, pen still in hand and glasses low on his nose. he was half expecting to see your feisty little self again, but instead he’s met with the sight of his husband. if it weren’t for the sneer that twisted up his husbands pretty face, he might’ve explained the same thing he’d tried explaining to you. something tells him that seonghwa wouldn’t have appreciated being told ‘i’m busy, i’ll come and talk to you when i’m finished designing these pieces.’

“what’s wr—” hongjoong doesn’t even get to finish before seonghwa cuts him off with a scoff and a petty roll of the eyes. it’s hardly like him to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and yet hongjoong can see each one of them clear as day. hurt, anger, disappointment; emotions that he never wants anyone he cares about to feel. his heart sinks just a touch as he realises who those emotions are aimed towards.

“you are a piece of work, hongjoong,” seonghwa spits, sounding beautiful even with venom laced through his voice. hongjoong knows that’s the last thing he should be thinking right now, but he can hardly help admiring his husband, even when he is seething. it takes the man a second or two to knock himself free of the love-induced haze and allow the words to sink in. “do you think you’re in the right for yelling at our darling? do you think that just because you’re overworking yourself it gives you the right to make her cry?”

hongjoong’s world comes to a standstill. the clock on the wall stops ticking, the heart in his chest stops beating, and most importantly, for the first time in weeks, the brain in his head stops thinking. finally, finally, it’s no longer filled with a myriad of complex ideas, each one overlapping yet individual in its own right. finally he just has one singular thought. it’s just a shame it isn’t a good one.

he made you cry…

hongjoong made you cry…

it repeats in his head, over and over like a mantra. it taunts him, the idea that he’d upset you so much feeling like nails on a chalkboard. his hairs stand on end and his breath catches in his throat. lord below, what has he done.

“where is she?” his voice is weak, pathetic, nothing like he usually sounds. seonghwa has to admit that his resolve takes a hit when he hears it leave his loves mouth. he reminds himself to remain strong; your pain is his priority right now. “seonghwa, please—”

“take a guess, hongjoong,” seonghwa replies, once again cutting his husband off. this time it wasn’t out of anger but of fear that he might cave if he has to listen to hongjoong’s heartbroken pleas for much longer. the pained look on his face is enough to send seonghwa’s heart into overdrive; he doesn’t need any more distractions from the real reason he’s here. “where might you usually find her when she isn’t with one of us?”

the rug in front of the fire—jongho.

hongjoong almost feels ashamed that he even had to ask; he should’ve realised the second you silently left his office that you’d gone to seek comfort in your favourite onikuma. realistically, though, he should’ve realised a lot of things. it hurts him to know that he was too focused on work to do so.

he stands, and he’s grateful when seonghwa shifts to the side to allow him past, even going as far as to re-open the heavy door for him. hongjoong isn’t quite sure he deserves the soft hand that’s placed against his back as he walks through the doorway, but he appreciates it nonetheless. now isn’t the time to be wondering how he ended up with such a beautiful individual as a soulmate, but he finds himself lingering on that thought as the two of them begin their journey to the living room. it’s hard not to when the warmth of seonghwa’s touch never once leaves him.

in fact, it’s only when the two of them step through the archway that seonghwa gives a small shove to the bottom of hongjoong’s spine before going to reclaim his spot on the couch. with a single nod in your direction, seonghwa redirects his husband’s attention and hongjoong lets his gaze flicker to the floor.

the first thing he’s met with is a glare from the mutt he’d been so reluctant to allow into his abode. normally, the beast would be scolded for being so bold as to openly disrespect his master, but he let it slide this time. he can hardly tell him not to give him the attitude he so clearly deserves. in fact, this is light compared to what he would’ve expected from the overprotective creature.

at least hongjoong knows he’ll make a wonderful guard dog…

“dove,” hongjoong coos softly as he dips down to your level. he can’t remember the last time he’d sat on the floor, but this feels necessary. the closeness is something that he finds himself craving, wanting nothing more than to have you next to him again. he won’t lie and claim that the sole purpose of this is to comfort you; he needs it too, to stave off the guilt that has begun to eat him alive. “can you look at me?”

there’s a certain element of pain in his voice that tells you he’s being sincere. that he truly does feel remorse for how he treated you. whether or not it’s seonghwa that forced it upon him, you don’t particularly care. all you want is to feel hongjoong’s warmth again, so you listen. you turn your head until your watery eyes meet his.

“there she is,” he gives you a humourless chuckle, a sad smile twisting the corners of his mouth up and the corners of his eyebrows down. the warmth of his hand as he places it on your cheek is comforting; more so than any words he could say. you just need him close. he seems to realise that as he turns to the werewolf, dangerously aware of the way his ears twitch angrily above his head. “may i take her, yeosang? i promise i’ll be gentle with her.”

“you weren’t gentle with her earlier,” yeosang growls, behaving more akin to what hongjoong expects from him. it almost has hongjoong flinching back in fear of yet another bite-shaped bruise on his hand.

“that’s true, but i would like i make it up to her,” hongjoong is soft as he speaks, less so for the sake of the angry mutt, and more for the sake of you. he doesn’t want you to see any more anger from him. “besides i really think it should be my little dove’s decision as to whether i get to hold her, don’t you?” yeosang snarls, huffing in dismay as he unravels his arms from you and lets hongjoong swoop you into his. manipulation never really has been the man’s style, but he has to admit that it works wonders with the mutt. use you as leverage, and yeosang will behave like a fully trained lapdog. he’s just like them in that respect; so desperate to make you happy that they’d risk everything, dignity included.

it’s not hard for you to let yourself be passed around like some kind of teddy bear as a pose to a real, living human. you’re tired from crying, not to mention desperate for the confirmation that you’re still hongjoong’s good girl. in fact, as hongjoong tugs you into his grasp like a rag doll, you find yourself leaning into his grasp. it’s so soft compared to his sharp words and cutting tone earlier, and his familiar scent of spices fills your nostrils. it dizzies you, but hongjoong is there to catch you…

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear as he pulls you up to straddle his crossed legs, “my darling dove, will you forgive me?”

you don’t answer. you don’t find it necessary to. the way you see it there’s nothing to forgive; you annoyed him, he yelled at you. it’s give and take, and despite your emotions getting the better of you, you refuse to place the blame on hongjoong. not all of it, at least.

“only if you forgive me too,” is the answer you finally settle on, mumbling it into his neck. he squirms a little at the tickling sensation, and in your own mind, you find yourself thinking he’s cute.

“you have nothing to forgive, my dove,” he answers, “but if it will make you forgive me, then yes; i forgive you…”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I don’t know if you have this but please can i request headcandons of the spiderverse Boys with their lover reader wearing their (spider boys) clothing like a hoodie or a t shirt?

Miles thought he had stopped breathing when he saw you wear the jacket he has been searching high and low for the past fifteen minutes.

He had been wanting to see you in his clothes but the poor boy didn’t know how to say it without tripping and stumbling awkwardly over his words like a new born baby deer.

‘Hey, have you seen my jacket-‘ his words faltered and then later died on his lips when he raised his eyes as he entered his room, only to see you wearing the very jacket he had been searching high and low for. ‘You’re wearing it.’ His voice cracked and out of embarrassment Miles cleared his throat and tried again. ‘You’re- You’re wearing it.’

You smiled at him, finding his attempts in keeping his cool amusing, especially when it was doing something small like wearing his clothes but you couldn’t help yourself! The jacket was still somewhat warm from previous use and smelt like him, which brought you comfort for the days where he couldn’t always be with you as it felt as though you had a part of him always with you. Though it doesn’t compare to actually having Miles with you, it still brought you a sense of relief and security that you always get when with the young lad.

‘Did you want it back?’ You asked, about to take it off when Miles exclaimed ‘no!’ Making you both jump with how loud it came out but made you both laugh none the less. ‘I mean, no, keep it on as long as you want. You look great in it.’ Miles admits, running the back of his neck, highly aware of the heat radiating within of every part of his body, from the tips of his ears to his chest and even to his feet, as though it was going to burn him from the inside out.

‘Just great?’ You teased, brows raised.

‘Did I say great? I meant you look beautiful, handsome, pretty, beautiful, cosy, comfy.’ Miles rambled and you knew you had to intervene before he hurts himself, which lead you to walk towards him and hold his face in your hands, internally melting when his beautiful doe brown eyes looked into yours as though they’re the only thing grounding him right now. ‘Relax, I’m only teasing babe.’ You reassured him, thumbs stroking his cheeks as means of calming him down. ‘Now are you comfortable with me wearing your stuff because I can stop if you want.’

Just when you were about to pulls your hands away from his face so you could remove and hand back his jacket, Miles placed his hands over yours, keeping them glued to his face as he looked at you adoringly. ‘It doesn’t bother me at all.’ He tells you. ‘In fact it makes me really happy just seeing you in my stuff,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘I swear it feels as though I’m still dreaming sometimes.’ He finishes.

Miles loves it when you wear his clothes as it means that even when you were apart, you’re thinking about him, always and wishing for his safe return. He feels loved, extremely loved.

Pavitr’s day is immediately made a thousand times better when he notices that you’ve been wearing his clothes. He fucking adores it so much to the point that he’s already making plans on just letting you use his wardrobe at your disposal.

It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad day because seeing you in his clothes even on days where he’s mentally, emotionally and physically okay, he’s automatically made even more chipper and happy to the point he will not shut up about his rant on how cute and adorable you look in his shirt.

He’s talking about a mile a minute that you were starting to get concerned when you saw he wasn’t stopping for breath. When he does remember to breath, you were able to realise the breath that you didn’t know that you had been withholding yourself.

Probably has a multitude of pictures of you wearing his clothes and might’ve made one his lock/Home Screen or maybe both, so that when he was doing his spider-man stuff, he’d be reminded that you were waiting for you Pav to come back safe and sound.

He will shamelessly scream it from the rooftops that you were wearing his clothes and say loud enough for all those within the radius to hear. He’s not ashamed in the slightest and will brag about it until he can’t no more. His friends, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Margo were often subjected to these bragging sessions more so then anyone else.

To the point where Hobie and Miles dog pile him in getting him to shut up about you wearing his clothes for a second. Yes they get it, it’s really cut that your wearing his clothes and how when you return them to him they smell like you’ve never left.

They get it, Pavitr is an absolute sucker for you in his shirts and whilst they found it cute themselves, pav didn’t need to get all dramatic with his long winded speech about how his clothes on you looked as though they were tailored to fit you like the did him, nor how he believes that was a sign for him that you two were meant to be together forever.

Overall Pavitr gets overwhelmingly affectionate when you wear his stuff to the point where your being smothered alive by his constrictive hugs and flurries of kisses raining down on your face. He loves, loves, loves seeing you in his clothes. It makes him happier then he’s ever been.

Hobie is the definition of ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.’

So let’s say you find his vest with the pins spanning across the lapels and the spikes that traversed across the shoulders, draped over the door and decided to wear it for a while until Hobie notices it’s absence.

Jokes on you though because Hobie never left anything of his without it being purely intentional and Hobie left his vest over at yours with the intention that you’d pick it up and wear it out of your own fruition, rather then having him telling you to wear it.

Outwardly his reaction upon seeing you wearing his vest is relatively neutral but that’s only to those on the outside but you could see the smile etching it’s way across his face along with the mischievous, all knowing glint within his eyes that told you all that you had willingly fallen right into his trap, just as he expected.

You’ve been had but you couldn’t be mad because it meant that Hobie had this in mind for a while and played the waiting game to execute his little plan. He wanted to see you in his clothes that he was willing to leave his beloved vest in your hands.

Hobie isn’t territorial but just seeing you in his clothes makes him feel all sorts of things but he just chalks it down to being a spider attribute he got from the bite and nothing else.

All this cheeky fuck would say to seeing you in his vest is; ‘guess I was right, it suits you.’ Which might as well have been his way of telling you that you were more then welcome to steal his clothes but just don’t be surprised when you start seeing some of your own stuff disappearing now and then.

Can’t find your crop top?

Hobie’s wearing it the next time you see him.

Needless to say Hobie loves it when you wear his stuff, so he’s going to do the exact same but with your clothes because he loves the expressions he gets when you ultimately realises who had been stealing your clothes for the past few days.

Miguel may act cool, calm and collected with a smidge of feral his heart isn’t immune from melting at the sight of you wearing his clothing.

It doesn’t even matter how long you’ve been doing it as it always made this secret softy feel as though it was the first time all over again.

Miguel is so occupied with his work to unhealthy extent that he doesn’t realise your wearing one of his shirts, and even when he does; it takes him a minute due to the lack of sleep affecting his ability to comprehend his reality before he’s doing a double take upon realising that yes, that was his shirt your wearing.

It’s cute watching his eyes nearly pop out of his head upon realisation.

‘Is that my shirt?’ He’d ask, although already knowing the answer. He’s not against it, he’s just surprised that you’d even want to wear anything of his. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such a gesture but it touches his heart nonetheless.

‘I missed you.’ You replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. ‘You’re so busy with work that I don’t often get alone time with you anymore. So whenever your away and I’m missing you, I go through your closet and pick a shirt out, and wear it for the rest of the day because it makes me feel as though your here with me.’ You finished with a shrug.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel his heart hurt upon your admittance of missing him. He knows how often he prioritises his work that he was completely blindsided by how it affect you, so much so to the extent that you sought out comfort from his clothes because he was nowhere to be found.

‘You look at home in my clothes.’ He tells you as he decided then and there to cut out some time of his day just for you and be there for you like a lover should be. ‘And I’m sorry that I haven’t been here as much as I should but I promise that’ll change.’ Miguel practically pleads to you as he holds you against his muscular chest, his hands rubbing your back, secretly loving how his shirt looked on you more so then anything.

Seeing you wear his clothes became Miguel’s favourite sight to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He takes pride out of it but the reasoning behind it will always make him upset at himself at his failings of being a partner.

It’s something he’s improved on ever since and you couldn’t help but get giddy when you felt him walk up behind you in the mornings, burying his head into your neck, greeting it with kisses, as his arms enclose on your waist, speaking to you in his low raspy morning voice about how beautiful/ handsome/cute/pretty/stunning you looked to the point where you wanted nothing then to bury yourself into his chest so he couldn’t see the dopey, lovesick smile beaming across your face.

Miguel isn’t immune to seeing you wearing his clothes and he never will be because it’s a declaration of love in its own unique way.

Peter B would find you wearing his clothes unbearably adorable.

He just wanted to squeeze you tightly but knew that probably wasn’t the smartest idea considering with his strength but that never stopped him from taking photos of you doing mundane things in his shirt or sweatpants that you had to tie up by the drawstrings.

Peter has taken too many pictures that he might as well have dedicated an entire album to you wearing his sweats, shirts or even his pink bathrobe and doing mundane things such as making breakfast, watching your favourite shows on tv, playing with Mayday and the like.

So don’t be surprised when he starts showing anyone that would listen over at the spider society pictures of his lover looking absolutely gorgeous/handsome/pretty/beautiful/adorable in his clothes 24/7. Miguel especially but Jess, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie and Margo were also some that got pestered by Peter.

Peter B is also very vocal and would smother you praise of how good you look in his clothes because what he says is 100% genuine.

For example;

‘Look at you! You look amazing!’

‘You’re so cute in my clothes, please don’t stop wearing them.’

‘How could my lover look even better when they’re wearing my clothes. It shouldn’t be possible but here you are, proving me wrong.’

This corny bastard would teasingly call you a mini version of him since you want to wear his stuff so badly.

You’ve defiantly caught him admiring you from afar when you wear his clothes. His eyes are soft and half lidded as he rests his face against his hand, he wasn’t aware that he was leaning so much to the point that before long he was on the floor. It’s so cartoonish and goofy but it’s just so Peter that you can’t help but let out a little chuckle before going over to help your lover off of the floor.

[diejager]

begging for more monster 141🙏🙏🙏

hear me out- reader is a host to venom but has it hidden and they find out maybe…?

(i got hyper fixated on blue’s au and SCOURING the internet💀)

What if… Hunter was Venom?

Pairing: Monster Task Force 141 + König & Horangi x venom reader

Cw: blood and gore, canon typical violence, head eating, gaslighting by Hunter, injury, fighting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.4k

Only Human masterlist

Sometimes, they’d find you mumbling to yourself, voice so low that, unless they were a hybrid or had impeccable hearing, they wouldn’t be able to hear it. It was a ne’er silent whisper of harsh words or soft coos towards a being they couldn’t see. Were you talking to someone on your headset? Were you wearing EarPods to talk to someone? Or had you lost some screws in your mind after working with them for so long? None of them truly knew, but they wouldn’t bother you with it when you never bothered them with pesky questions that sounded insulting to them. After all, why would they bother their adorably useful and resourceful medic? You were the beating heart of the Task Force, you made it whole and functioning. Yet, they couldn’t stop the curiosity that festered in their mind, the need to know what made you talk to yourself, mumbling and cursing when you were alone. 

Nothing seemed out of order, you were still strong-headed and scolding them like you did the day before, mumbling about Soap’s recklessness and Gaz’s impending fate of falling out of airborne vehicles. About Price’s habit of working too hard, pushing his already pained body to work. Pulling Ghost by the - bloody and soiled - sleeve to your infirmary with a deep frown and eyes glinting with the promise of retribution for the hybrid that hid whatever ailed him from you; you were the medic for Pete’s sake! It was your duty to watch over them. Hounding Alejandro for his medical check after a deployment because, as handsome and dependable as he was, he liked hiding his wounds. Running after Rudy for his checkups while he was limping or trying to avoid you. Calling after Horanji for his share of the affection, needle, scalpel, bandage and all, he needed and deserved all the others received. Or sitting beside König, reminiscing about your early days, where taking care of your patients was as easy as taking care of König was, grateful and pliant, showering you with love and adoration before, during and after the procedures. 

You had your plate full with them, so it’d be unheard of if you had time to care for others. You might’ve been a medic on base, but your priorities and loyalties lay with them, with Task Force 141 and its allies. However being a - their - medic, didn’t mean you were free from any pain, fear or quirkiness as they were. You were as weird and as awful as every single one of them was, wearing it pridefully on your chest when you stood with them; even if you were wholly human - or you were supposed to.

Ghost caught fleeting moments where a dark mass would move around you, a glistening blob of marble-like texture with silver rivers running across it. It was near impossible to see it when it would disappear once it felt - even the slightest indication - the presence of another living being, like an illusion of trick of the light. That’s what you told them, it was simply a trick of the light or something because you didn’t know anything about an ugly blob. It was told slowly and persuasively with a wince once the words “ugly blob” left your mouth, a pained grimace as if something was grating your ears or claws were digging into your mind. When he brought it up with Gaz - who had impeccable eye-sight, the harpy would agree, spewing words about it having a menacing face with wide, pointed eyes and a mouth full of teeth. Big and sharp teeth that seemed alien-like. It couldn’t have been the trick of the light, especially since both of them saw the same thing. They asked you once more, together this time, but you’d reassured them that they were both tired when they’d seen this blob. You were tired and sometimes saw moving forms from the corner of your eyes too, so it might’ve been hysteria - collective hysteria.

Soap, if he tried hard enough, would sometimes hear a deep voice echo around you. It wasn’t something disturbingly deep, or annoyingly alien, it was pleasingly deep with a smooth undertone to its growls. It would send chills up his spine when he heard it, but he would always catch your voice talking back to it. He’d hear hisses and curses, some more unusual and others more normal: “I can’t eat my teammates!”, “I told you no!”, “Stop eating heads! People will catch on!” or “Can you shut up?” and “I can’t concentrate with you screaming my head off!” Soap, knowing how good Alejandro’s hearing was, asked if the Mexican had heard you speak with an unknown voice, specifically a male voice. A few muffled conversations between you and an unknown man and sometimes one-sided, but, simply put, Alejandro had witnessed the same occasions as the Scot had. It wasn’t unusual to talk to yourself, would it? Soap liked to boost his own morale with confident words and flattering compliments to himself. Alejandro wasn’t a stranger to mumbling to himself either, cursing his choice in life and how he ended up with his - lovable - problem-causing band of vagabonds.

If you weren’t careful or unintentionally careless, there would be a distinct odour clinging to your skin. It would be strong and pungent, the smell fresh and metallic-like. König knew it well, he craved as much as he wanted to bathe in it, the sweet smell of blood. How could he not recognize the faintest whiff of blood when it often drove him mad with bloodlust and the uncontrollable need to fall into a daze of primal hunger? It stuck to you like a second layer of skin, thin and always present. It sewed into the fundamentals of your scent, the tinge of iron mixed into the sweet, syrupy musk. It drove him mad with need, thirsting for the thing that made you smell so delicious. It clung to you as if you bathed in blood, drinking and devouring it, yet your skin was clean, with no speck of red under your nails, on your skin or between your teeth. In a worry, he went to Price, The Captain had the most knowledge about you and König could trust him to take good care of him, being a dragon. He expected the Brit to know something, even the slightest change, but Price hadn’t caught anything odd about you. Perhaps it clung to you because of your closeness to him, Percht hybrids - although rare - were ferociously unpredictable and ravenously bloodthirsty.

Rudy was the more human of them, so he caught on to the changes in behaviours and habits of others easily. You’d act odd at times, shoulders slightly tense and back slumped inward, body tired but unable to relax. He wanted to help, he proposed, but you’d turned him down, telling him you were fine, that you were just restless from being off duty for so long or for being worked to the bone. He would also catch you subtly avoiding them without ringing any bells, seeming occupied with other things while whispering under your breath; your slower reactions to their banter and the darker bags under your eyes, wearing that dazed and blank look in them while you sat with them; or the strong growl of your stomach and the slight rubbing of your stomach, soothing an ache that rooted so deeply in your abdomen. He worried, often, if he was honest. Even Horangi, a man oblivious to most cues and behaviours in humans, saw the subtle change in your behaviour when you acted odd. He pointed out the rings under your eyes, your fatigued and distracted mind, and your lip-gnawing hunger. For a hybrid that had so much difficulty grasping and understanding humans, he caught on to your change abnormally quickly, even with the excessive chocolate consumption.

They were all suspicious and you, their sweet and convincing medic, had them doubting what they saw, your gaslighting working on them as easily as a child bribed with candy. It didn’t make you feel less guilty or disappointed in yourself, but you weren’t sure how they’d react to him, not being human or a monster. He was a creature out of the pages of a sci-fi novel, a creation of the human mind and imagination. Venom was an alien, something from outer space. You were convincing until you couldn’t anymore.

Let me take over, the soothing voice uttered to you, calling out your name in a concerned tone. Let me protect you.

You were compromised, the enemy had tapped into your line, listening in on your conversations and movements. That’s how they were able to separate most of you, to turn the squad of nine operators down to four smaller teams, all on the run and trying to stick to the shadows without calling to the others through the comms. You were crouched over Gaz, whispering sweet nothings to the hissing man. You soothed his ache, hand and mind strained on the bleeding wound on his forearm, his beautiful, bronze skin stained with crimson in the hot and humid air of Columbia. 

Blood rolled down his tense arm, over his round muscle and sweaty skin, it was a clean graze, the blunt head of the bullet grazing his arm deep enough for it to bleed but shallow enough for it not to leave him incapacitated with blood loss. It was a ray of light in your dreadful situation. You had his wound cleaned and wrapped up, congratulating him for pushing through and helping him up. You cursed the enemy, wondering how the low-stake in-and-out ops suddenly turned out to be an extremely high-stake one with minimal possibility of reaching the evacuation point. 

“C’mon Gaz, we need to move,” you whispered to him, holding your rifle closely to your chest while you walked around the shadows of Guaitarilla’s back alley and dark corners. “We need to regroup at the evacuation point.”

“Yeah, good plan,” he nodded, following your lead even though he was higher-ranked than you, but in such situations, survival was the priority. 

You stuck to alleys, using the shadows to hide from the patrolling cartel that had the town surrounded, it nearly baffled you with the speed of their defences and counter-attack if you hadn’t heard of Las Almas’ attack from El Sin Nombre and The Shadows from you teammates. Although you couldn’t admire them, you could respect their skills and ability, you only wished it was for you rather than against you. 

While you watched ahead, Gaz had your back, peering around the corner before giving him the green to move. It was a rotation between who went first and who looked back, but you made it work with only you both. You were so careful, yet it somehow wasn’t enough, someone had noticed you and it sent you and Gaz rushing for cover, to escape the group of dispatched cartel members. It was stupid, running without looking where you were heading towards. It was stupid to let the enemy tap into your comms. It was stupid, the situation you got yourself into. 

You were backed into a corner, Gaz standing before you like a protective shield between you and the enemy, his rifle pointed toward the quickly advancing group. You wanted to protest about him using his wings to cover you, his wide, brown feathers expanded to hide you from those men. He was already hurt from pulling you away from harm, but he was now standing protectively before you. You couldn’t let him get hurt because of you, not anymore. 

Little One, his voice rang once more in your head, the reassuring pressure of his presence in your body calming you down by an inch. Let me take over.

If you let him take control of your body, it would ensure your and Gaz’s safety, then you could reach the others that you’d lost in the chaos of the battle. While you wore the combat medic’s patch proudly, your prior training before taking up your 16 weeks of medical training wasn't lost to you. You remembered how to aim and shoot, how to snipe an enemy from afar and protect your teammates from whatever danger you faced. None were lost to you, and you’d use every bit of training you had to protect them, whether it was as yourself or with Venom’s help. Venom’s help was undoubtedly useful, and right now, you needed him.

“Please, Venom,” you spoke aloud, your soft voice carrying through the blocked alley. 

“Who-” Gaz asked, confusion laced his tone, the question left unspoken as Venom’s deep, rattling voice boomed across the tight space.

“We are Venom, flesh bag,” he growled, body crouching down, not dissimilar to a feline laying prone while it waited for the right moment to attack, and pounced at the men.

Don’t call Gaz flesh bag, Venom, you whined, your voice echoing in your shared subspace of your mind.

“If that is what you wish.”

His heavy mass landed on a man, pushing him to the ground with a loud crack. You imagined that Venom either broke his back or a few of the Colombian’s ribs, it was sickeningly delightful, the sadistic pleasure from Venom sent you reading with mirth. His hands stretched to abnormal lengths to swing at the enemies with practised ease and familiarity. Whether they’d die from blunt force trauma from Venom’s strength or live with a concussion, none mattered to him, hunger raked his being, the throb aching in the back of his mind. It was a moment where he was let loose, where you wouldn’t need to gorge on an extreme amount of chocolate to keep him fed. This would keep him satisfied for a few weeks. 

Venom pulled the first two in, his jaw widening to clamp down on their neck. Gaz saw the dangerous gleam of Venom’s teeth, rows of pristine and immaculate teeth the size of a finger bled the man’s head red in a single bite. He shivered at the decapitated body that fell from your monster’s hand as he went for the second and third Colombian. He made a show of viciousness and raw, unadulterated bloodthirst with his eating. Fortunately, apart from the bloody mess and dead bodies, Venom was a relatively neat eater, licking his teeth clean from the red stains with a long, slimy tongue. Gaz couldn’t shake how your monster made him apprehensive, his body flinching and trembling at the greater being.

“Let’s go, The Little One wants to rescue the others,” Venom’s grating voice shook Gaz out of his stupor.

“Hu-Hunter’s there?”

Venom nodded, his mass retreating into your body, the mass melting into you like a second skin. It was as if Venom was never there, as if it was all his delusional imagination. Gaz rushed to you, his hands grabbing hold of you as he shook you in his grasp, he cursed in worry, concern lacing every word he spewed in a tornado of fear, curiosity and confusion. His soft feathered wings cradled you, casting a protective shadow over you as you hid in the darkness of the alley. 

“Gaz, we have to go,” you murmured to him, your voice soft and reassuring, trying to help him walk off the edge you were pushed to. You both were safe for now, the cartel that had followed you all laid dead without their heads in a thick puddle of their viscera. “We have to find the others.”

He let out a shaky sign, his head nodding in affirmation at your comforting words. He loved that about you, that ability to heal and mend their ache and anguish with a smile and sweet words. Then, pairing your softness with your stubborn viciousness made you a gem within the military, a one-in-a-million for them. Yet, all that clouded his mind were questions, about your safety, about that monster that melted into you, about what kind or what it was. Gaz had so many questions that he’d push back for the greater good of rescuing the rest of the Task Force, he’d hound you for answers later when everyone was back together. 

When Venom resurfaced, retaking control of your shared body, he’d reassured you that he knew where they were, his body being hyper-aware of the things that made you smile and laugh. You were his host and his joy. It was an easier job than the two of you - you and Gaz - had expected, Venom’s claws digging into the buildings as he scaled the walls to reach the roof. From then, he pulled nothing back, rushing forward with the same enthusiasm as König had when he led first, and leaped, the muscles of his legs pushing him high across the buildings with Gaz flying beside him. 

Venom had made quick work of the situation, his body invulnerable to anything but loud sounds and fire, which none had since it was a rainy night. You found Horangi and Alejandro first, Venom doing what he knew best: protecting you, in relation, what you loved too, and feeding on human heads, the chemicals in the human brains nurturing him. Alejandro and Horangi were naturally confused and distrustful of Venom, but you had Gaz to smooth things over, and knowing that Venom’s way of speaking was curt and up-to-point - annoyingly blunt - it made your body soar with relief. They, albeit confused and curious, followed you from the ground as Venom cleared a path to the next ones.

Price, Rudy and Soap were the biggest team from your unexpected separation. They jumped at Venom’s appearance, Soap throwing threats at him when he took a step towards them. That was expected, Venom - even being the symbiote you were hosting - was a stranger to them and Soap reacted according to his instincts. That blaring, red light that signalled his brain to send his body on complete guard about the danger, Venom couldn’t escape a werewolf’s keen situational awareness. You’d taken the initiative to calm them down, seeing as everyone was already down,  the enemy loaded with bullets and dying in a pool of their blood. You kept the explanation short and simple, giving them the important points before promising to tell Price everything he wanted to know after you found Ghost and König.

Those two were harder to find, forcing Venom to extend himself to sense the slightest presence of either man. It couldn't be easier that Ghost was a wraith, being able to disappear and appear at will and that König knew very well how to hide, perhaps as well as Ghost could. When Venom found them, Ghost shot first, “shoot first, questions later” seemed to lead his decisions with König not far behind him. He brought his arms forward to protect himself and you, hidden within his mass. Venom growled but didn’t attack them, hissing the words you spoke to him to them. It was a simple quote that you’d shared with them in situations where they needed to find you between the hostages or under disguise. 

Like calls to like.

It was simple, but telling. They stopped the moment Venom uttered them, knowing well you were inside Venom, Gaz landing before him and the others steadily arriving behind the two. Task Force 141 was finally complete, from the most humane to the most chaotic hybrid, some were hurt, grazed, protrusions, and stabbed, but all were alive. You were glad, you were really, really happy that everyone was safe and alive.

Seated in the Razor, the silence and tension were thick within the cargo hold, Horangi and Gaz framing your sides with Price taking the seat across from you. You could see the stress and tension rolling off his shoulder after treating everyone, his brows furrowed and a frown curled his lips under his beard. Beside him was Alejandro and Ghost, both - like everyone else - wearing a confused and disgruntled expression on their face, their eyes gleaming with questions left unsaid. You’d left them wondering if their minds were playing tricks on them, if they were seeing things, if they were imagining things and if they were losing their minds. You understood the anger, but you had your reasons to hide Venom’s existence.  

Price crossed his arms, legs spread wide as he leaned back, his head tipped back with an inquisitively serious look. He raised a brow at you, waiting to see if you could prove your case or if you had anything to add before he started. With nothing to say, you bit your bottom lip, your shoulders screwed with anxiety and fear. You didn’t know what to expect now that your well-kept secret was out. 

“We have a lot to talk about, Hunter.”

“I know, Captain.”

Better sooner than later, leaving it to fester and grow would be bad for the TF’s morale and relations. 

Taglist:  @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness

[kooktrash]

make a wish | jeon jungkook [ birthday drabble ]

DRABBLE FOR: ROMANTIC DREAMS but you don’t have to read it, this drabble can stand alone

summary: hours before his birthday, his friends force him to come out for a night of drinks only for him to be mad the entire time that you’re ignoring him. he comes home early worried you might’ve left but what he saw instead made his birthday all the better when the clock strikes midnight.

warnings: smut. birthday sex. jk is at the club but misses oc lol. 3.8k words

The feeling he got anytime he came out for drinks with his friends never changed. It always felt suffocating to him from the crowds of drunk people all against each other to the overly loud music he couldn’t even pay attention to. It was overwhelming, to say the least.He hated the looks he got and the way people tried to talk to him. He hated how loud his friends were and how they felt the need to bring him up to complete strangers like any of it matter. It’s his birthday weekend, you wanted him to celebrate with all of his friends and yet he couldn’t care less about any of that. He was more interested in finding out why you weren’t here tonight and why you weren’t answering your phone.

“Come on man, just one drink and then you’re free to crawl back to Y/n,” Jin joked as he patted the guy on the back, “But we want to hang out with you for your birthday at least once.”

“Y/n’s not answering the phone,” Jungkook warned as he was led to the bar, “So I’m probably just gonna head out.”

“Dude, Y/n’s not a kid, you don’t have to watch her every five seconds,” Namjoon asked, “Don’t get me wrong, wanting to spend time with your girlfriend is the bare minimum but don’t you think you go overboard sometimes? It would not kill you to be away from her for one night.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything, his gaze hardened as he eyed his friend closely. Namjoon just shrugged despite how blunt he sounded and that only seemed to annoy Jungkook more. Who was he to say that?

Jungkook does not go overboard, alright?

He trusts you… of course he does… but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still think about you leaving him. Something in his gut tells him that if you ever try to break up with him you won’t tell him, you’ll just leave and he’ll have no clue where you went.

He thinks you’ve finally grown to love him almost as much as he loves you but he just can’t get over the amount of times you told him you were done. The amount of times he’s had to remind you you’re not going anywhere and neither is he.

He’s gotten better too, he no longer has cameras set up and maybe that’s why he always feels so anxious when you don’t answer. All he’s got is your location so he knows you’re at home, so why won’t you answer his texts?

“Kook?” Namjoon called out to him as he stood at the bar as if he hadn’t just yelled at him, “What do you want to drink?”

“Jungkook?”

He yelled at his friend to get him anything, hearing the call of his name but not bothering to turn and acknowledge it. A small poke on his arm made him take a deep breath and turn to whoever was trying to catch his attention.

“It is you,” She said softly, “Oh my god, it’s been so long. W-y-you just stopped talking to me.”

“Do I know you?” Jungkook looked down unimportant. He actually did have a small recollection of her. They met over a year ago and hooked up a couple times but that was it. He was horny and she was easy.

She looked taken back, “Yeah. You do, asshole.”

He didn’t respond to her, simply glanced down at her angry expression and scoffed as he looked to his friends. They were all busy buying drinks and Jungkook did not care about any of that. He’s been with them since he got off work. They didn’t even let him go home to see you and tell you to go out for drinks. They showed up at the shop, hurried him to close and dragged him to the closest bar. He’s tired of it all. His birthday is tonight and the person he wants to spend it with isn’t answering their damn phone and he’s just starting to get pissed off.

“Okay, here’s yo—“

“I’m leaving,” Jungkook told Namjoon, handing him back the drink, “I’m tired and we’ve been out for hours already. I want to go home.”

Namjoon checked the time biting his lip, he was supposed to stall Jungkook from getting home per your orders and it’s been difficult all night to keep him from running to you. He’s never seen his friend so… in love [?], is that the right word for it? His need to know where you are, why you aren’t talking to him, who you’re with, was intense. Namjoon just knows Jungkook is at his limit with you ignoring him. All he could do was nod his head and give up, “Alright, can you drive?”

Jungkook only had one drink and even then he didn’t finish it before they tried getting him another so he felt fine. He was just bothered that you’ve yet to reach out to him.

He made an attempt to call you, one last time, as he got in his car but like before you didn’t answer and he can feel his patience running extremely thin. Why weren’t you answering him?

The first thing Jungkook noticed when he got back to your shared apartment was how dark it was. Usually [especially now that he’s made the place his own now], the apartment had a dark aura to it. It probably had to do with the mixed decor the two of you had up like his black sketches of skulls and serpents next to your framed photographs of Baby’s Breath and lavender. He’s used to it by now but right now… it’s too quiet…

“Y/n?” Jungkook called out and you could hear the growing annoyed panic in his voice. He dropped his things from work down to the ground without any care. He hasn’t seen you since before he went to the tattoo shop in the morning and now it’s almost midnight and you’re nowhere to be seen.

As Jungkook turned down the hallway, he seemed to freeze. Just below his feet where he hadn’t noticed them before, laid a trail of black rose petals. He followed them with his gaze seeing them disappear under the closed bedroom door where he could see a hue of red lighting inside. With a curious tilt of his head, he walked along the petals, twisting the knob on the door and immediately feeling his heart race.

Your bedroom which had become a concoction of gothic knickknacks and floral patterns, was a deep shade of red. His vinyl played one of his favorite Deftones songs, Mascara, and there you were.

He stopped at the door, eyes taking in the sight around him but all he could do was look down at you surrounded by candles littered across the room and music playing softly to set the mood and suddenly he wasn’t angry anymore. You had been ignoring him all night and that drew him insane but seeing you laying in bed wearing nothing but a black lace lingerie set made him forget all about that anger.

“So this is why you weren’t answering my calls?” Jungkook asked despite feeling giddy inside from all of this. Your lingerie was thin and fitted, it hugged you in all the right places and you looked so inviting with your legs slightly spread open for him, laying in a petal of black roses. You didn’t say anything, only lifted a single finger toward him and motioned for him to move closer.

Your boyfriend was never much for the theatrics, he liked doing it too much to wait, so you weren’t surprised at all when he reached for the back of his black shirt and yanked off over his head exposing his muscles, torso and nipple piercings. His tattooed hands unzipped the front of his black jeans and kicked them off immediately before walking toward the bed with a dark look in his eyes.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you said sitting up a little when he brought a hand to the back of your neck after crawling over your body to kiss you, “But you’re always so impatient.”

“You were ignoring me,” Jungkook whispered against your lips as he sighed softly into the kiss, “I don’t like when you ignore me.”

“So you’re not happy with the surprise?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Jungkook has only just now gotten undressed and you can already see the growing bulge in his Calvin Klein’s. Jungkook looked down at your pliant body laying pretty underneath him, unable to help himself from dragging his index finger over the tip of your nipples that peaked through the sheer fabric, “I love it, just dlike nt ignore my texts again, okay?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes even as he kissed along your neck lovingly, his teeth softly nipped at the skin until his tongue was running over the marks soothingly. He was already on top of you trying to control the situation and you put a hand on his chest to move him off. His brows furrowed as you began to say up forcing him to do the same, “Why don’t you lay down and let me take the lead for once, yeah?”

“Bab—“ his words died down when your finger tugged at one the bar piercing on his nipple. He looked down watching your finger circle around it teasingly scratching against him and he was folding. Now that Jungkook had relaxed a little, you took the chance to move him to lie on his back, straddling hips as his hands found your waist to hold you there. He set you down directly over his hardening length, letting you slide against it for a moment’s worth of friction. Jungkook always got so easily turned on when it came to you. He could be at work doing a tattoo on someone and suddenly he’ll remember what the two of you did the night before, how he fucked you on the kitchen counter or ate your pushy in the bathtub. Sometimes it didn’t even have to be about sex. He would think about seeing you fresh out the shower or wearing a shirt of his and nothing underneath.

“Y/n,” Jungkook sighed once he felt you lean down for a kiss. It was an open mouth kiss with your tongue pushing into his sloppily the way he liked it, your hands scratching down his ribbed sides feeling every muscle in their path. When you pulled your lips away from his, a line of drool connected your mouths and dribbled down to his chin when you kissed along his jaw. Jungkook’s hands couldn’t sit still, they needed to feel all of you. Your lingerie bottoms were nothing but a lacy thin thong that left little to the imagination but looked good nevertheless. He slid his hands over your butt, big hands pinching and helping any part of you that he could, occasionally making your covered cored grind against his dick. A low moan left his lips when you sucked on his neck leaving a trail of love bites in your wake, moving down to his collarbone and chest.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” you said teasingly as you lucked over his abused nipple that you had been tugging on. Jungkook’s breath hitched when you circled it with your tongue, sucking softly and nipping at the metal with your teeth.

“Always,” Jungkook sighed, squirming a bit as you kissed between his abs down toward his navel, fingers already sinking into the hem of his briefs, “You always make me feel good.”

“Mhm,” you hummed in content, sliding yourself off his lap until you sat perfectly between his spread, muscular thighs, “You always make me feel good too, baby.”

It’s true too. He’s your boyfriend for fucks sake, even if you used to resent him for being the way he was then; there’s no point in still feeling that way when you really do love him—whether it be healthy or not is still up for debate.

Jungkook tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, playing with his lip ring as you yanked his briefs down with a bit of force that had him groaning at the toughness. He’s not used to you taking the initiative, maybe you’ve done it once or twice but never dressed like this in a red and black room made for sex.

You looked down at his length, not surprised at all by the sight of it. Jungkook was hard, his dick was thick and flat against his navel, throbbing under your stare. It twitched like it wanted to point upward but he wasn’t there yet. He needed a little more attention still.

You placed your hands on his thighs for support as you leaned forward to be face to face with his cock, pursing your lips like you were gonna kiss it before blowing air. Jungkook had to rest on his elbows to be able to sit up enough to see what you were doing, just barely catching the sight of you reaching further down and flattening your tongue against his balls teasingly until you licked the underside of his cock too. Immediately his arms gave way and he was laying back down on the bed, eyes squeezed shut.

You wrapped a hand around his base, angling his cock to point upward before running your tongue along the side once more like he was a melting ice pop. You could see his lip pulled between his teeth and his eyes screwed shut in anticipation making you smirk. Jungkook always knew how to make you feel good and it was a boost to your ego to know that you too knew what made your boyfriend feel good. As his cock stood straight now, you licked along his tip, circling around the head and feeling him throb in your first when you sucked softly against his slit that produced precum.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned as he let his head fall back against rhe pillows with his hands tucked under his neck, hips raising with need to meet your mouth and make you take his cock down your throat. You grinned at the disheveled sight of your boyfriend that was caused by a little teasing and lowered your head starting back down over his balls where you knew he liked to feel your tongue first. Jungkook liked things sloppy, a bit rough and nasty. He loved having his balls played with, feeling your tongue swipe along them, sucking one into your mouth and tugging while fisting his cock. It’s exactly what you did tonight, you paid extra attention to his balls feeling his thighs tighten around you when you began to stroke his dick.

Jungkook was in ecstasy, his cock no longer needed your hand to make him stand straight, he was hard enough to do it on its own and you dug your nails into his thighs when you finally began to take him all into your mouth. A loud moan left his lips at the warm sensation of your spit coating his member, making it easier to slide him into your mouth. He could feel you try and relax your throat all around him and although the wanted to let you take your time, he was so fucking horny. He couldn’t help but buck his hips up, forcing you to take more and more of him at a quicker pace.

You shook your head no, cock in your mouth and a hand flat against his pelvis to hold him down, “Just relax, baby, I got this.”

He huffed impatiently, nodding his head as he tried to calm down, lips parting in surprise when you took him all in one go. If your mouth wasn’t full with his dick, you would’ve been smiling at the way he so easily turned to mush underneath you. You wasted no time in teasing him anymore, bobbing your head up and down while your fist strokes whatever didn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand was fondling his balls avain, squeezing them, massaging them, rubbing them against each other as you made obscene noises with your throat as you fucked him into your mouth. Jungkook’s hands closed in tight fists over the bed sheets, body caving in with how good your mouth felt on him and he was so damn close, “Fucking hell, baby, fuck.”

You could tell he was close by the way he became restless, thighs clenching and unclenching, chest rising and lowering with jagged and fast paced breath, lips drawn apart with moan after moan and it only made you double your efforts. You got rougher, faster, sloppier.

It got to the point where Jungkook had a closed fist over his eyes trying not to overwhelm himself with how good you were making him feel but it had become too much. He couldn’t take it anymore, “Okay, Y/n, there, I’m gonna cum. Come on, need to feel you—oh fuck, baby.”

His head fall back with a loud moan, spurts of thick cum coating the inside of your mouth so suddenly even you were surprised by the amount. Jungkook’s body writhed on the bed, large muscular body twitching with pleasure as he came down your throat. You gagged at the intensity, pulling your mouth away and watching it coat his own dick in it, still softly jerking him off through his orgasm.

“You okay?” You asked lovingly, stroking him as you looked down at the mess you’ve made of him. Jungkook’s eyes were a deep red that made his gaze look darker under the LED lights. His lips looked swollen and cum was all over his pelvis but he was still rock hard.

“Y/n,” his voice grew hoarse, “Need you to sit on dick, right now.”

You smiled, laughing softly as you looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. 11:59pm.

“Birthday boy wants to cum in my pussy?” You asked surprisingly. The two of you rarely had sex without a condom but you were on birth control and it was his birthday… your boyfriend deserved this. As crazy as he was, he loved you and you… well, you loved him too or else why would you have stuck around? And right now, you were too turned on to care about the consequences.

Jungkook didn’t have to say anything to have you lining his cock work your wet pussy as you slid the lingerie to the side so it wasn’t in the way. As much as Jungkook loved the way it looked on you, he needed it completely off of you.

His rough fingers tugged at the seams, easily tearing it apart as you pressed his thick head between your folds. You gasped in surprise at how easily he tore threw the fabric, yanking roughly until it was in his hands and on the floor, “Baby… I’m trying to be sexy here.”

“You’re always sexy,” Jungkook said not caring about the lingerie as his hands found your hips, lowering you down his length himself, “But I like you better with nothing on.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgement, a small moan leaving your lips as this thick head finally made it past your broken hymen making the slide of the rest of his cock that much easier. Your hands fell flat against his chest for support as your feet pushed against the bed to help you raise your hips, his hands guiding you to bring them back down. It started off slowly, you began riding him teasingly only lifting yourself up a little, grinding your hips against his and doing it all over again.

Jungkook was fine with the pace as he took in the sight of your pretty tits in his face and he couldn’t help but move his hands to grope them, thumbs brushing over your nipples as his hips began to thrust up into yours making the slow ducking a little rougher.

“Jungkook,” you moaned softly as his thick length hit that special spot at the top, rubbing against your open folds and pleasuring you so well you almost forgot this was for him and not for you. He was at the point where he didn’t care about who was supposed to be making who feel good. Anything you did to him felt good and without a care in the world he pulled you down to lay on his chest, your face against his neck as he dug his feet into the mattress and began to fuck you from below. Your body bounced against his and with an arm tight around your lower waist and the other groping your ass, he was fully taking control to bring you to your first orgasm of the night.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked in a low whisper into your ear, cock working in and out of your tight pussy. You nodded your head, kissing his neck between moans as your cunt tightened around him, “So good.”

Jungkook took the lead with ease, grinding you against his aching member, so close to release once more. The clock had strikes midnight time ago and his phone was being flooded with birthday messages but he was too busy to care. All he had wanted for his birthday was to spend it with you and his patience had paid off.

He came home to you dressed so fucking sexy for him and with a promise that he could cum inside and that alone was bringing him closer and closer to his second orgasm, not worried about finishing too soon when he knew this wouldn’t be the last round.

Your teeth nipped are his neck, nails scratching along his nipples as you tightened around him once more, “Jun—babe, I can’t… fuck, please.”

“Cum for me, do it baby,” Jungkook urged you on, lifting a hand only to bring it back down hard on your ass hearing you squeal at the slight sting but your walls tightened all the same. His cock was reaching deep into your count every time you took him all in and all it took was one final spank, for your orgasm to hit. You released a loud moan into his ear, hearing him grunt as you clenched around and finally you felt the warmth of his release flood your insides for the first time ever.

He was left breathless, cock coated in both your arousals as you pulled yourself off of him and you both watch his release mixed with yours dribble down your legs, immediately turning him on once more. You looked up at him, smile on your face from how good your boyfriend looked after sex. You checked the time once more, hearing his phone buzz and you ran a soothing hand over his thigh and pulling some stray black petals off of him, “I’m gonna get a bath going, how does that sound, birthday boy?”

Jungkook smirked, “Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll be back, why don’t you start responding to everyone,” you told him with a wink. When you left and he looked down at his phone, a small laugh left his lips.

joon:i hope whatever surprise y/n did for u was good bc u were a bitch to keep distracted

joon: happy birthday

joon: don’t have too much fun with your girl

::.

ugh everytime I tell myself I’m tired of romantic dreams Jungkook I just come back 😭anyways little bday drabble on KooK’s bday 🥺HAPPY 26TH BIRTHDAY

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt t @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura a @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

[tsumuus]

The night was supposed to be a celebration. Another milestone for one of your friends, another chance to gather and reminisce about how far you all had come since those grueling days at U.A. But something about tonight felt different, off even. Despite the loud music, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses, a sense of unease lingered at the back of your mind, refusing to be shaken off. It didn’t help that Bakugou was acting strange- stranger than usual. He had been avoiding you all night, keeping his distance like he was afraid of something.

You couldn’t quite place why this bothered you so much. After all, it wasn’t like the two of you had been close in years. Since that conversation in your final year of U.A., things had never been the same. You’d both moved on- at least, you thought you had. But that didn’t explain why seeing him downing drink after drink like he was trying to drown something unsettled you so much.

As the designated driver, you’d kept a watchful eye on the group, making sure no one got too out of control. But Bakugou? He was already long past his limit, far gone into a drunken stupor. That wasn’t like him. He usually knew how to pace himself, how to keep his wits about him, even when the rest of you were too far gone to notice.

You’d finally had enough when he ordered yet another round, his eyes unfocused and his words slurred. It was time to go, even if the others protested.

The ride back was awkward, to say the least. The others had quickly passed out in the backseat, leaving only you and Bakugou in the front. He was silent, eyes closed, head leaned back against the seat. You couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just lost in his own thoughts, but either way, the tension was palpable.

The silence that had once been comforting now felt suffocating, pressing down on you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. It was a reminder of what used to be- what you’d lost. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, memories of old conversations and shared dreams flashing through your mind.

When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, almost hesitant. “You good to be home alone? Looks like you had a rough night.”

He grumbled something under his breath, too low for you to catch, but you thought it sounded like “I’m fine.”

More silence. The kind that ate away at you, made you question every decision that had led you to this moment. You tried again, desperate to break the tension. “Heard about your last mission. Heard it was a tough one. How’d it go?”

Nothing. You glanced over, thinking he might’ve fallen asleep, but then his voice cut through the quiet, sharper than before. “Fuck off.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the harshness in his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t look at you, but you could see his jaw clenching, the muscles in his neck tensing. “You don’t get to say shit like that to me,” he muttered. “Not when you don’t mean it.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I mean it. We’re friends, right?”

That seemed to snap something in him. He groaned, louder this time, as if your words were physically painful to hear. “Friends? You really think we’re still friends?”

You didn’t know what to say, too stunned to respond. What was he getting at? Why was he acting like this?

He let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “You ended things because you said you needed something I couldn’t give you. Said you needed a life I couldn’t provide. And look at you now. All alone, can’t keep a relationship going for more than a couple of months, pretending like we never happened, like that conversation never happened, like there was never anything between us.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t just drunk. He was angry, hurt- hurt in a way you hadn’t realized until now.

“I loved you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I loved you so much. I wanted to give you the world, and for the longest time, I thought that meant us. But it hurt, knowing I couldn’t give you what you needed. Hurt that you couldn’t give it to me either. And it hurt even more when you didn’t fight for us. You just… walked away.”

You felt tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, trying to focus on the road, on anything but the pain in his voice.

“I know I could’ve fought too,” he continued, his tone softer now, more vulnerable. “But in that moment, I couldn’t think. I just… I thought that if you really believed we were better off apart, then maybe you were right. But it was a mistake. Letting you walk away was the biggest mistake of my life.”

He was crying now, and you could feel your own resolve crumbling, your heart breaking all over again. “Suki, I—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say you miss me. You’re just breaking my heart even more.”

It was only then that you realized you’d reached his apartment. He was already unbuckling his seatbelt, fumbling with the door handle. You wanted to say something, anything to make this right, but the words wouldn’t come. You were frozen, unable to move, to speak, to do anything but watch as he climbed out of the car, his shoulders slumped, head hanging low.

He didn’t look back as he walked to his building, and you didn’t call out to him. You couldn’t. Not when you knew that he was right. You’d both made mistakes, both let fear and doubt tear you apart. And now… now it felt like it was too late to fix any of it.

By the time you finally found the strength to move, to drive away, he was already inside. The door had closed behind him, and with it, the last chance you might’ve had to make things right.

You didn’t cry, though you felt like you should. You just drove in silence, the weight of his words heavy on your heart, knowing that no matter what happened from here on out, things would never be the same. Not for you. Not for him. Not for the love that had once been everything you’d ever wanted.

The morning after the heart-wrenching conversation with Bakugou, you find yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. His words replay in your mind, heavy with emotion and regret. You reach for your phone, your thumb hesitating over the keyboard before typing out a message:

"Hey, Suki. Just wanted to make sure you're okay this morning. You got pretty wasted last night. Drink lots of water and take some painkillers for your headache when you wake up. Also, if you're down, maybe we could hang out soon? Catch up?"

You read it over a few times before finally hitting send. It’s nothing too direct, nothing that digs into the rawness of what was said last night. But it’s enough.

A few hours later, your phone buzzes. It’s him.

"Thanks. I'm free today if you want to meet up."

His response is quick, dry, but the offer to meet is there. You hesitate for a moment, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him so soon after everything that was said. But you need this. You need to figure out where things stand.

You agree on a small coffee shop on the outskirts of town, a place that’s familiar yet tucked away enough for some privacy. You arrive early, your mind whirring with thoughts, playing out a thousand different scenarios of how this conversation could go. You order drinks- something simple, something comforting- and take a seat, trying to mentally prepare yourself.

When Bakugou finally arrives, you see the hesitation in his eyes as he approaches. The usual confidence in his stride is slightly muted, like he’s carrying the weight of last night’s confession with him.

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you. His voice is quiet, almost tentative.

“Hey,” you reply, handing him his drink. The conversation starts off awkwardly, small talk about work and life. It’s painfully dry, the kind of talk you’d have with an acquaintance rather than someone who once meant the world to you. You both seem to be dancing around the elephant in the room.

After a lull in the conversation, you decide to break the ice. “You know, you really went all out last night. I’ve never seen you drink like that. What was up with that?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light, teasing.

He scoffs, brushing it off. “Rough day at work, that’s all.”

“Riiiight,” you draw out the word, not buying his excuse for a second. Then, you take a deep breath, your heart pounding as you tread into deeper waters. “Well… what you said last night got me thinking.”

Bakugou’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean? What did I say?”

You clear your throat, feeling the tension build between you two. “You, uh… you said a lot, Suki. About how you’ve been feeling… about me, about us.”

His eyes widen slightly, shock crossing his features. He stays silent, so you continue, recounting the basics of what he said last night- his regret, his sadness, how much he’d been hurting. When you finish, he just looks at you, expression unreadable.

“Oh… well, sorry you had to hear all that and deal with drunk me,” he says, his voice flat.

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you. “Is that really all you’re going to say?”

“What else is there to say? Just forget it happened. It doesn’t matter,” he replies, his tone clipped, defensive.

You stare at him, a mix of frustration and sadness swirling in your chest. “For a second there, I really believed what drunk you was saying…”

“Stop,” he cuts you off sharply, his eyes locking onto yours. “I did mean it. Everything I said, I meant it. But just because I haven’t gotten over my feelings doesn’t mean I’m not over us. I’ve come to terms with the fact that we’re done. And you don’t get to poke fun at me or hang it over my head for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you say, your voice softer, the edge of frustration dulling as the weight of his words settles over you.

“Then what did you mean?” he snaps, though there’s a vulnerability in his voice, a crack in his usually stoic demeanor.

You take a deep breath, feeling the moment stretching out, the tension thick in the air. “I miss you, Katsuki. I really do. That day when I broke things off… it was just as much a day filled with regret for me as it was for you.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you see the conflict in his eyes, the push and pull of emotions he’s struggling to keep under control. You press on, feeling the urgency to get it all out.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, for both of us. But I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped wondering if we could’ve made it work if we’d just tried harder… If I had just tried harder.”

He falls silent, his gaze dropping to his cup, fingers wrapped tightly around it as if it’s the only thing grounding him. The words hang between you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid over the years.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice low, almost hesitant. “What does this mean for us now?”

You exhale a shaky breath, feeling the tension ease slightly, but the uncertainty is still there, lingering. “I don’t know if we can go back to how things were right away… but I want to try again, Katsuki. I want to give us another shot, no matter how long it takes. If you’re willing to, that is.”

He looks up at you, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes- hope, maybe? Or just a cautious optimism, too afraid to fully embrace it.

He nods slowly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah… yeah, I think I’d like that.”

It’s not a grand declaration, not a sweeping romantic gesture, but it’s enough. It’s a start. And for now, that’s all you need.

masterlist

part 2 of this fic

[literaila]

ALSO I feel like Megumi has been on this engagement ring secret for a long time. Gojo took him to buy the ring under the guise of “father & son bonding time” and had to DRAGGG Megumi from the house. But once Megs was told what was going on, he took it a lot more seriously, and Satoru couldn’t help but be a little bit more serious, too.

“hey, megumi,” satoru pockets his wallet, getting his glasses off the entryway table. “c’mon, we’re leaving.”

megumi, who is sitting on the couch, flipping through some dumb book, frowns. “for what?”

“a mission.”

“but i thought you said—“

“where are you guys going?” you ask satoru, turning down the hallway. you’re fixing a bracelet and walking over to him to readjust his buttons (he did it wrong on purpose).

“a mission.”

you raise a brow, lips pursed. “i thought we were saving those for weekends.”

“i don’t control the curses, sweetheart,” satoru grins. “you’re so pretty.”

“i’m immune to your sweet talking.”

“impossible.”

megumi is slipping on his boots, frowning at the two of you. “you said nothing until sunday last week.”

satoru kisses your head, stepping passed you to throw his arm around megumi’s shoulder. “this is a special trip,” he says easily.

megumi rolls his eyes, pushing him off. but he walks towards the door anyway, not bothering to argue.

“don’t be too hard on him,” you tell satoru, giving him a look only he knows.

and you really are pretty—with your hair a bit messy and your eyes crinkled. the little lines by your lips as you attempt to refrain a smile.

satoru ruffles your hair, walking with his back turned out the door. “whatever you say, dear.”

“be safe!” you call to megumi, waving to him.

“bye, mom.”

but as soon as the door is shut megumi turns. “where are we actually going?”

“what do you mean?”

“i know there’s no mission,” he say, flatly.

“and how would you know that?”

“because it’s down season and you’re a terrible liar. and you would’ve told me already because mom likes to know before we go.”

gojo hums, considering it. “that’s… true. and i’m not a terrible liar.”

“uh-huh.”

“i need your help with something.”

megumi makes a face. “really?”

“yes, really. will you stop making that face?”

“what face?”

“your ‘i know better than you,’ face.”

“well, i do.”

gojo smirks, clasping his hands together as he walks. “exactly why i need your help!”

megumi groans, shaking his head, but he follows satoru—because, really, what else is he supposed to do?

and he lets gojo talk the whole way there. about mostly nothing, with a few details about jujutsu that megumi makes a mental note of. it’s only when gojo turns to open the door of a small shop that he finally stops talking.

megumi looks up, then winces. “you’re not buying tsumiki more earrings, are you? i was the one that had to deal with her crying last time. for an hour.”

“pfft,” gojo holds the door open for him. “i’m saving that for sixteen.”

megumi sighs but walks into the jewelry store, immediately hit with the smell of plastic and burning metal. “what are you getting, then?”

“what are we getting,” gojo corrects, suddenly looking a bit giddy. “i need a ring.”

“a ring?”

“mm-hmm.”

megumi scoffs. “for what?”

“your mom.”

megumi frowns, looking over to gojo—to where he’s perched over a glass case, carefully inspecting an array of cut diamond rings. “like—like an engagement ring?”

gojo only hums.

megumi blinks. he’s known that the two of you were together since he was at least eight—even if you wouldn’t admit it then—so he shouldn’t be shocked. he’s watched you roll your eyes at gojo fondly every time he refers to you as his wife… and still.

tsumiki would be on the ground if she found out, he thinks. no way she could ever keep this secret.

though megumi sees how much gojo loves you. he might’ve been young, but he’s watched the two of you mend together like steel. watched your lives combine and your hearts attach.

he couldn’t imagine anyone else quite suited for you.

and, though he’ll deny it, in the pit of his heart there’s a yearning for the type of love that you and gojo have. the understanding and complete confidence in each other. you’ve made him witness to your story, and it’s not something the boy will ever easily forget.

but he doesn’t tell gojo that. only takes a step towards the case, grunting. “took you long enough,” he mutters, and says nothing else.

they look for a long time. megumi doesn’t know a lot about rings—and neither does gojo. but they both know you, and very well.

they argue over the difference between a pear and oval cut, debating how big the rock should be. megumi thinks it should be more intricate, and gojo only wants the most expensive, eye catching ones.

he frowns at the boy. “my wife needs the best, fushiguro.”

“she’s not even your wife yet.”

gojo tries to get megumi to try some on, and when megumi refuses he pouts for about three minutes.

“but you have such dainty fingers,” he whines, “they’re probably the same size as hers.”

megumi almost hits him for that one.

but in the end, gojo is tapping his fingers against the glass counter with both excitement and anxiety, unable to keep still.

megumi might be staring a little bit. but it’s amusing to watch a grown man absolutely fall apart over a ring smaller than his palm.

“do you think she’ll like it?” gojo asks, eventually, after he’s grown too tired of the silence.

megumi smirks, so small that it’s barely noticeable. “maybe.”