#SORRY FOR YELLING I JUST REMEMBERED AND I GOT EXCITED

[colossrat]

The good will follow!

superman 2025 spoilers and references

Just imagine. Billy Batson, a seven-year-old boy living on the streets, an angry kid who just ran away from his last foster home after his foster father got drunk, too drunk for his liking…

Sometimes he remembered what his father taught him, "do good and good will follow" or something like that. But after so many events, he started to think that doing good wasn't good for him… He gave those adults a chance and was disappointed again. And with a new bruise on his cheek.

He's starving through the streets of Metropolis, trying to figure out how to get back to Fawcett, to his friends, Freddy, Miss Bambi, Tawny… And then, BOOM, screams of horror and fear. Billy knows he shouldn't, because it's a terrible survival instinctive response, but he runs in the direction of the screams. Only to find Superman and the Justice Gang fighting a massive, fire-breathing big-ass-ugly lizard.

"Holy moly..."

Billy should have been terrified, but he wasn't. He was vibrating with excitement!

You see, it sucked for him to be taken away from Fawcett because this new foster family was from Metropolis, but deep down, he was kinda happy just thinking that it increased his chances of meeting his favorite superhero!

And didn't he actually get to see his hero?! His eyes were shining. He reacted as if he were on a TV show. gasping, letting out "ooohs" and "aaahs" But he realized it wasn't a TV show when that huge lizard tail started moving wildly. He wasn't that close, he wasn't in that tail's danger zone. But it was better to be safe than sorry. So, he was going to move a little further away, and that's when he saw another child, close to his age group.

The child was as excited as he had been moments before, mesmerized by the heroes' awesome fight. Billy should leave. He's spent enough time alone on the streets to understand that when you can, you should run! Don't get left behind by being distracted by saturated colors and cool aliens punches. Something the other child certainly didn't know, since he seemed to be taking small steps to get even closer to the monster and the heroes.

"Run!" Billy yelled, but the boy paid him no attention.

The tail was racing past two buildings, geting closer.

Billy blinked, and he was running. He grabbed the boy's wrist and began pulling him to safety.

The boy wasn't cooperating, yelling, "Superman! Superman!"

Billy had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something like, "Superman's dealing with the big monster! You're just giving him more trouble by getting so close!!"

But his attention was drawn to the tail, tearing up the asphalt toward them as the monster lost its balance. Billy closed his eyes, instinctively hugging the boy, trying futilely to protect him from the impact. But then there was no impact, no pain, no light at the end of the tunnel.

He opened his eyes and saw briefly that he and the other boy had been caught in Superman's arms. They were whisked away in seconds and placed on the ground.

"You did a great job taking care of your brother, champ. But now I need you two to take yourselves to the police station to find your parents, okay? Can you do that?" Superman said, crouching in front of them and offering a gentle, soft smile as he pointed to the police station across the street.

This wasn't Billy's brother, but he couldn't seem to deny it. Superman had praised him for trying to protect the boy… he'd also given him a task!

"Y-yes, Superman, sir. Mr. Superman, sir. I'll find them, thank you!" Billy said with a smile that revealed how much he was living a dream at that moment.

Superman gives one last reassuring smile before flying off again.

Billy is then taken from his fangirling moment to the feeling of his hands being gently squeezed.

"Will you help me find my parents?" The boy, maybe an year or two younger.

Billy knew that if he went into that police station, he'd end up back in the system, but…

"Well… hm…" he thought for a moment and sighed heavily. "Yeah, buddy. Let's go find your mama…" Billy reassured him, mimicking Superman's soft smile;

He smiles genuinely when the boy's sad eyes turn to relief. Maybe it would be okay to go back to the system. It's not like he can't escape one more time.

He tried to help the boy and ended up meeting Superman, being praised and all! He did good, and good followed… His father was right, and Superman just reminded him of that.

[sweetstrawberryys]

"Booby Trap"

Summary: You got into an argument. Youre trying to make a point. He's not listening. Then you lifted your shirt.

Rating: Mild nudity, suggestive humor, Tf141 being helpless

Masterlist

---

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK:

Kyle’s pacing.

Hand gestures. Raised eyebrows. Voice getting all high-pitched in the way it does when he thinks he’s making a solid point.

“You always do this, babe! You say ‘I’ll clean it up in a minute’ and then it’s a week later and the broom is still in the fookin’ shower! I nearly slipped and died tryin’ to have a rinse!”

You try to explain. “Okay but that wasn’t—”

“No, no. Don’t ‘babe’ me. This is a pattern. A toxic pattern. If we were on a talk show, I’d be the man cryin’ on the couch, sayin’ I deserve better!”

You sigh.

Then you lift your shirt.

Two seconds of silence. Maybe three.

Then—

“…I forgive you.”

You blink. “What?”

Kyle’s eyes are fixed. He’s doing that thing where he’s not blinking, not breathing, not processing.

“I don’t remember what I was mad about. That information is gone now. Like a hard drive after Ghost hits it with a crowbar.”

You start laughing. “I don’t think that’s how—”

“Shh.” He waves a hand. Still staring. “We don’t need logic here. We need peace. Love. And boobs.”

You smirk. “You’re so easy.”

“Yeah?” he says with a grin, already pulling you into his arms. “Well maybe if you weaponized your chaos a little less effectively, I’d win more arguments.”

You kiss his cheek and pull your shirt back down.

Kyle whines.

“But I was enjoyin’ the view! That was the best part of my day!”

---

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY:

Simon’s arms are crossed, foot tapping. He looks like a pissed-off gargoyle in tactical gear.

“You left without tellin’ anyone,” he says, voice low and flat. “That’s twice now. We had no eyes, no backup, and you came back with a limp.”

“It was a short recon. I was fine—”

He steps in closer. Not yelling. That’s not his style. But you can feel the tension in him, all knotted in his shoulders and jaw.

“Doesn’t matter if you were fine. You could’ve not been. And I—” He stops himself. Breathes through his nose.

And you know that look. That haunted edge he tries to cover with gruff discipline.

So… you do what any emotionally intelligent, loving, supportive partner would do in this moment.

You flash him.

His breath catches audibly. Like someone punched him.

His mask twitches.

And then—he full-body jerks back a step like he’s seen a flashbang.

“My God, love—!”

You smile sweetly. “Still mad?”

He presses both hands to the top of his head like he’s trying to physically keep his brain inside his skull. “That is so unfair. That’s criminal behavior.”

“You gonna arrest me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he grumbles, ears flaming red above the mask. “Bloody hell. You can’t just—present yourself like that while I’m mid-sentence.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m trying to discipline you and now I can’t remember what words are.” He turns away like he needs to recalibrate. “Fuckin’ tits out like it’s Mardi Gras…”

You come up behind him, arms around his middle. “I’m sorry, Ghostie.”

His voice drops into a mumble, soft, stunned. “…Still can’t believe you’d show me, of all people…”

You press a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

“You’ve seen all of me before.”

“Yeah, but I never recover.”

---

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE:

Price has his “Captain Voice” on.

Which means he’s calm. Stern. Too composed for his own good.

You’re sitting on the edge of the armory bench like a scolded schoolkid, and he’s pacing in front of you with his sleeves rolled and disappointment radiating like a heatwave.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” he says, pausing to look at you. “Took an unvetted route through a hostile zone, and worse—told Soap it was fine.”

“He said he wanted excitement,” you mutter.

“He’s not a golden retriever, sweetheart, he’s a trained soldier—he’ll chase a shiny thing if you wave it the right way.”

You smirk. “That’s on him.”

He stops pacing. Leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t like being ignored. I don’t like being lied to. And I especially don’t like being flirted with to avoid accountability.”

“…Is that a challenge?”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

You lift your shirt.

He doesn’t move.

But something in his eyes flickers. Like the last grip on his self-control just wobbled.

A slow breath escapes him. His jaw tightens. “Darlin’…”

“Yes, Captain?”

“We were having a conversation.”

“Mmhm.”

His gaze is very deliberately locked on your face. Not once does he let it drop, though you can feel the effort behind it. He’s mentally filing away every inch for later—probably in 4K.

“You think flashing me’s gonna get you out of trouble?”

You hum. “Is it working?”

His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.

There’s a pause.

Then:

“You are in trouble. Deep trouble. And now I’ve got somethin’ else to punish you for.”

He pushes off the wall and walks right past you, but not before murmuring, “Put that away before I forget what century we’re in.”

You hear him mutter down the hallway:

“…fuckin’ menace…”

---

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH:

You’re not even arguing about something serious.

Just who left the fridge open and let Ghost’s protein shakes turn into swamp water.

But Johnny’s committed to the bit. He’s pacing the kitchen, shirt half-buttoned, waving around a spoon like it’s a gavel.

“You think this is a game, bonnie? Do you know what Ghost is like when his protein goes off? Do you?! The man’s already emotionally fragile! You’re gonna send him over the fuckin’ edge! Next thing we know, he’s knittin’ socks in the murder room and mutterin’ about betrayal!”

“Johnny, relax,” you laugh, arms folded. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m bein’ reasonable! Look at the data!” He gestures to the fridge. “Smells like a corpse and regret!”

You wait for him to turn around.

And then—flash.

He turns back mid-rant, spoon raised—

—and drops it instantly.

Eyes go wide. Neck jerks back. He actually stumbles.

“Wha— You can’t just—I was making a POINT!”

“You’re not mad anymore, are you?”

“No, I am—I’m—fuck—” He runs both hands down his face, like he’s buffering. “That’s dirty pool. That’s against the Geneva Booby Convention or whatever!”

You grin. “Would you rather I took more off?”

He pauses. Thinks.

Then, with zero hesitation, he yanks down his pants.

“Right. If this is how we fight now, I’m bringin’ my best weapons.”

You shriek, laughing. “Johnny!”

He poses proudly, pants puddled around his ankles. “I’d argue more if we’re just gettin’ naked every time! This is the best relationship dynamic ever.”

Bonus:

From the doorway, Price’s voice cuts in, deadpan.

“MacTavish, for the love of God, put your pants back on.”

Ghost mutters behind him. “Every bloody time.”

Kyle pops his head around the corner. “Hey, are we flashing again? I didn’t realize we were flashing again—wait up!”

[midnghtprentiss]

the favorite - jack abbot x f!attending!reader

pairing: jack abbot x f!attending!reader

a/n: this is my first jack story and i'm really excited. as a former healthcare worker (nurse!) the pitt changed a lot of things for me and it's my favorite show so far. hope you all like this idea of mine. sorry for any spelling mistakes. english is not my first language.

summary: all the times you were everyone's favorite person and one time you were jack’s person. 

one. 

you're a ray of sunshine. 

that's your thing.

you’re nice, intelligent, competent, kind and still the best part of the day for some people. and you’re smart as hell. she loves it. 

your calm energy it’s the reason why you work at the emergency department. people need your calmness around to work. which means you’re the favorite doctor beneath the staff, especially the nurses and med students - you’re their golden girl. 

dana loved you for different reasons. your sense of humour, your energy, the way you pay attention to the details. and most because you stay out of trouble. 

she never had a problem with you, actually, she was glad they put someone sane and kind to work in that shithole. every shift you showed up with something for the team. 

maybe homemade cookies, a cake and even a bread if you feel inspired baking for your people to show how grateful you are for them and to keep the spirits up. thank god it worked every time. perla and princess waited for you in the parking lot a few times just to make sure you got something good. 

what they admired the most about you was your strength to defend the nurses from the crazy patients. it doesn’t matter the shift, if someone is fighting with them, you’re the first one to show up and say some things. perla remembered how you got beaten up to defend princess from a perv that was touching her and how you ended up laughing about it with blood all over your nose (jack almost died when he saw you covered in blood - your blood). 

“it’s nothing, dana. he was touching her and i don’t appreciate it when men do that. she asked him to stop and he didn’t.” you shrugged and smiled at her. “don’t worry, alright? i would've done it for any of you.”

“kiddo, one of these days you’re going to kill me.”

“no i won’t.” you bolwed her a kiss and she laughed. a relieved laugh. “it’s not my fault i would take a bullet for you guys.” 

no one ever questioned your loyalty with the team, everybody knows exactly where’s the limit between respect and bullshit with you. from this day on, she put you under her wing and swore to herself anything that could ever happen to you during a shift was her full responsibility. some days the funniest part of her shift was explaining to abbot how you almost went home with a broken arm to defend them.

two. 

robby was his own person and you knew that. he loved the space, the warmth of his own heart and the loneliness. of course you were worried a lot of times. 

but for him you were like a breath of fresh air. the way you cracked jokes when you noticed he was this close to snap, when you distracted him for a few minutes with some picture of your cat, even taking him to the morgue just to swear bad words, or when you brought him coffee and chocolate. even when you covered for him for a few minutes so he could cry in peace. 

and he loved you a lot for that (and a lot of other reasons, but let’s focus on the main ones).

you never said a word about any of the things he never asked you to do and you've done it either way. he could count on you any moment of the shift just for glancing different at your direction. sometimes you have conversations with your eyes, sometimes you just cursed him under your breath and that was it. 

you even scared him a little. 

“i don’t want to see you for at least twenty minutes, robinavich. don’t make me yell at you.” you don’t even gleaned at him from the computer. “i got this. go grab something to eat while you cry, i don’t know. call your boyfriend, go watch some babies at peds i want you gone. the kids are my responsibility now.” 

“i need to be grown up now, i am literally their boss.” he tried to argue but one look from you was enough.

“if you don’t disappear in the next thirty seconds i’ll call jack and things will be worse.” you got up crossing your arms like a mother. 

“jezz, fine. please don’t ground call papa” he rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away from you, disappearing from your sight. 

“that’s how you teach grown men to be normal.” you winked at dana who was watching everything mesmerized cause she begged robby to take a break and he didn’t listen. 

robby was gone for thirty minutes and no one noticed his absence. when he returned to the nursing station he saw you teaching the med students how to do a proper examination on a normal patient, listening and answering all of the questions they had like a pro. 

you got everything covered and he felt good to have someone to help without needing to ask. 

that’s why you were his favorite. 

three. 

the med students loved you. the absolutely worship the ground you walked on. they loved your patience, your mind and especially how you treated them like people. in your mind they were there to learn, which means they'll make some mistakes and that's partially fine as long as they don’t kill anybody. 

“she has a masters and a doctorate, guys!” javadi once exclaimed like she found gold at the ED. 

at some point you became their confident. you knew every little detail about their life. how withaker was living with santos, how javadi was crushing mateo really bad even how santos struggled with the loss of her friend. mel learned how to open up about her sister's situation and mohan was navigating through the loss of her father even after all this time. you even helped mckay with the legal proceedings for her to have her son back. 

you knew everything. 

during your shifts you did your best to rotate between them. each day you choose one to watch from close and teach what you know and everyday they fight to decide who stays with you but after dr santos and whitaker dared to start a fist fight robby and dana choose for them. 

robby and jack were a little jealous of you, especially because you’re a smooth talker and you charmed everyone who listened. 

“it’s unfair how they follow you around like some sort of queen bee.” robby almost cried with his words. 

“i heard they have a groupchat with you, is it true?” jack nearly jumps from his seat. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you sipped your coffee. 

“oh you know exactly what i’m saying.” he shots back and you laughed hard. 

“are you jealous of them? from what i’ve known you don’t even like interns, abbot.” 

“yeah, but i like to know what they say about my girl.” 

“they call her mama bear, brother.” robby looked at his hands trying to hold a chuckle. 

they’re definitely jealous. 

you use your time to teach them some valuable lessons. you help them navigate in the transition of becoming a doctor. smoothly and nice, just like you learned. 

“you know, santos, i’ll be honest, you need to review your way of talking with people.” you were beside her with crossing arms, watching her stitch a patient. 

your voice was hard and soft at the same time. 

“i’m only rude to the jerks.” you hold your laugh. 

“at one moment you’ll start to see all of them as jerks and this can’t happen.” you warned her softly. “imagined if you’re the one in their position. would you like to be treated like that?” 

she stared at you and nodded gently, sighing at your words. 

“what if i can’t do that?” 

“you will call me and we’ll try a different approach.” you touch her shoulder and squeeze. “i don’t want you to be cold and indifferent. the medicine needs to make you feel something. you’re doing a good thing for someone you like or not.”

they listen to you and they care. if you say something immediately they’ll do it and will make it like their life depends on it. 

at your birthday, for example, they made you a cake from scratch and even decorated it with pink frost and a glitter candle. you burst out laughing just for them to do that for you. no one else got a cake, just you. 

they even wrote you a small letter. 

“thank you for being the best teacher for us. we loved you, mama bear.  lots of love and hugs from your students.”

you were really grateful for those kids and they were grateful you’re their teacher. 

four. 

langdon was a problematic guy. it was no secret. he knew it, you knew it. but he was an exceptional doctor. no discussions about that. it was a fact. 

when he first started struggling with his addiction he came to you. something was happening to him and you got it in your heart that in the right moment he would talk. 

and he did.

he always talked about his problems with you. he came to talk about his marriage and how scared he was to broke things off with abby, how scared he was of being a shitty father. he viewed you more like an older sister, a protector of him. he liked how you never judged his fears, he liked the way you listened and tried to put some sense into his mind to do the right things. 

but this time it was different. it was worse. eating him alive. 

you were working a double shift when he found you in the stairs eating a burger in peace. you offered him some and he denied it. the air around him was thick, heavy and sad. he was a broken man and the sight almost broke your heart. 

“talk to me, frank.” 

“i fucked up.” you nodded, putting your food away to hold his hand.

“heard about it.” he sighed and you could see how embarrassed he was. “you need to get some help. i can’t see you struggling and acting like nothing's wrong. i like you too much to close my eyes and pretend.”

“i’m going to rehab. eleven months.” you smile. “robby is pretty pissed at me.” you both laughed. 

“good for you, frank.” your hand find his shoulder “you’re gonna get better. i’ll be there to help you whenever you need someone to talk, to eat burgers or talk shit about our job.the world is pretty fucked and i’m pretty sure you need a chance to make things right from your mistakes, you hear me?”

he nodded feeling a little less lost knowing you’ll be there to help. he wasn’t alone anymore and when he understood he had you by his side, the journey was smoother. 

five. 

jack abbot was a man of darkness. he worked so much better at night. it was his comfort zone. 

until you showed up years ago and messed up this whole dark theme he had planned for himself. 

working doubles wasn’t strange to you. you have bills to pay and things to accomplish and no time to waste. you two get along pretty well. more than well, actually. you were unstoppable together and everybody knew that. even walsh recognize you were good. she liked you (a miracle in jack’s view) a lot. 

you knew better than to date another doctor. you did this once and ended up in a pretty bad divorce. and with jack? you didn’t care anymore. 

he also knew better than to date another doctor. to date anyone actually. but no one was you. no one had a contagious laughter like yours. no one had a brain like yours. 

he was pretty sure god, or whatever divine figure, sent you just for him. 

the whole ‘soulmate’ story was a lie to him, until it wasn’t. you definitely was his soulmate. his favorite person.

his person. 

from the quiet drive home after a shift. from the warmth of your body curled around him. even your cold feet touching his feet in the middle of the night. 

falling for you was so easy if you like to observe things from a closer perspective. he noticed how you always have something red when you work the night shift and how you have something green at the day shift. he noticed you liked your coffee sweet for normal shifts and how you drink your coffee black at night.

he observes how you treat everyone, how you greet them with a bright smile and the coziest hugs even on your worst day. he could spend hours watching you talk (he does that everytime you pick an online class to teach) or breathe (he watched your sleep like a crazy psycho). 

you’re his person when you grab him coffee without him asking, when you sneak a sweet in the pocket of his scrubs. when you catch his gaze from across the room. when you start rambling about some gossip you heard through dana. when you talk to yourself trying to remember the article you just published.

to be loved is to be seen and he sees you. 

 you’re his person when he knows you’re his. 

he knows you are his girl when you’re sitting in his bed with his shirt and his socks, messy bun, glasses, computer on your lap, cup of tea in the nightstand and his dog laying at your feet waiting for you to move. the comfortable silence. the white noise of the television playing something he lost track of what it was. it’s when he looks at you like you’re his salvation from the darkness. it’s the words that come through his mind when he writes you a letter or a note. 

“i think i’m going crazy.” you whisper looking at him for a second.

“where is this coming from?” he chuckled. 

‘just checking if you agree or not.” you winked and he laughed hard. 

“pretty funny until you start accusing me of madness.” 

“i could never! it was one time, c’mon.” he took your glasses and held your face. 

“you’re the most gorgeous thing i’ve ever seen.” love. that was love from him. 

he doesn’t feel bad showing you who he really is. you’ve seen him, really seen him. you love him for who he is, good baggage or bad. you love his mean remarks, his type of affection. you love how he is quiet. you love how he balances his life going to therapy, talking to someone. you find it funny how he tries to hide a smile when you compliment him. how he flustered when you kiss him in public. how he loves when you bake cookies for him. 

“i loved your brownies. did you put some coffee this time? best one so far. love you. -j”

to be loved is to be seen and you see him. 

it’s the hope of a future he know it’s worth fighting for because you’re his person. you’re his present.

the kind of love that doesn't need words to be there (but he has a ring in his drawer waiting for the right moment). 

[shawtuzi]

STRETCH YOU OUT

pairing: ex boyfriend! toji x reader/// cw include: porn with plot, toji is pathetic but in a hot way, a little angst, oral f receiving, good ole make up sex, really really soft sex that eventually gets rough, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie obvi, a smidge of aftercare, rushed but happy ending!! edit: i finally proofread this i didn’t realize there were so many mistakes so sorry bout that!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“y/nnnn! baby please talk to me! i see you looking at through the curtain!” you jumped back, closing the curtain with quickness. you rubbed your temples, letting out a deep sigh.

toji was back trying to win your forgiveness. again. for the third time that week.

after a very heated argument that involved him calling you a bitch you sent that man packing, not even looking back as you slammed the door in his face.

toji could be a good boyfriend when he felt like it, which was a problem for you. you wanted stability, someone you could depend on, have children with—but you just weren’t sure toji wanted the same thing. his promises felt empty, like he was only saying it to make you happy and that’s what pissed you off more than anything. him calling you a bitch was just the icing on top of the worlds shittiest cake

you could still remember the look of shock on his face as you told him to get the fuck on and never come back.

yet here he was for the third night in a row—sitting outside your apartment blasting ‘fallin’ by alicia keys from his car with the most beat up looking bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen in his arms.

you suddenly heard a loud knock at your door, making you jump. you looked through the peephole, sighing when you saw your neighbor suguru, a very agitated look on his face.

“can i help you?” you asked cracking the door open, already knowing he was about to give you an earful about toji.

“this is the third time that guy has shown up here blasting that loud ass music, and he keeps yelling your name. you gonna do something about?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. you kissed your teeth, opening the door wider, “i don’t know what the hell you expect me to do? he’s a grown ass man—”

“a grown ass man that has ties to you! fix it y/n or i won’t be so nice asking next time—” geto was cut off by you slamming the door in his face, letting out a sound of surprise. “bitch…” he muttered, walking back to his apartment.

you sighed once more, letting your forehead fall against the door. “fucking toji,” you growled, pushing off the door, walking over the window where you were watching toji. you yanked open the curtains, met once again with sight of toji belting out whatever r&b song was playing in his car.

you opened the window, sticking your head out the slightest bit. “y/n, baby! you came back!” he let out a sound of relief. you shook your head in annoyance, “turn that shit off and go home toji,” you hissed, making him frown and shake his head. you narrowed your eyes at the man, giving him the best death glare you could manage.

although you did put a little fear in his body, toji stood his ground, taking it a step further by turning up the stereo in his car. “i’m not leaving till we talk and baby you know i got time,” he glared right back at you, smirking because he knew that you knew he was indeed right. your nostrils flared in anger, your fist closing up ready to straight up punch this man in his jaw.

“ugh fine just turn that shit off before anyone complains,” you slammed your window shut, irritation radiating off every inch of your body. wow did this man had a lot of fucking nerve, but it’s okay you were ready to let him have it the second he stepped into your apartment.

it didn’t take long for toji to make it to your apartment, breathless and jittery but nonetheless excited to finally be in your presence again. you slowly opened the door, a frown etched onto your pretty, plump lips.

“hi baby….can i come in?” you didn’t say anything, instead you just stepped aside allowing him into the warmth of your apartment. the smell of caramel and honey hit his nose, relaxing him the tiniest bit.

it was silent for a few moments, no one saying anything until toji finally broke the silence. “before you go off on me just hear me out okay? sit. please,” toji ushered you over to the couch, his heart tightening when you shook his touch off.

“you know i don’t think you’re no bitch right? i’m sorry i even said it i hope we can move past it…” you looked at him, your brows furrowing, waiting for him to continue with his “apology”. when nothing else was said you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh.

“toji…you think i kicked you out all because you called me a bitch….nothing else?” you were laughing but nothing was funny and that’s what was freaking toji the fuck out. he didn’t say anything which was just pissing you off even more.

“i kicked your ass out because i don’t even know what we’re doing anymore toji! you come and go as you please, you don’t talk to me and i mean really talk to me about shit like our future or if you even see a future with me. this relationship feels one sided whether you believe it and i’m sick of it—i don’t even believe you anymore whenever you say you love me. you haven’t touched me in god knows how long— *hiccup*

you hadn’t even realized you started crying till you felt little salty droplets fall on your thighs. you squeezed your eyes shut, bowing your head down as you tried to control your breathing.

“an—and now you got me fucking c-crying and shit—i hate you, i hate you so much,” you wiped your tears with the back of your hand but they just kept falling. toji’s eyes were wide as he watched you cry—over him of all fucking people. his chest felt impossibly tight, his throat feeling as if it would close up any minute.

you suddenly jumped up, “are you even gonna say anything?!” the volume of your voice took him by surprise, making him flinch. toji quickly stood up, resting his hands on your shoulders but you only pushed him away. toji took a deep breath, muttering out a small ‘sorry’ before pulling you into his arms.

“let go of me toji, jus’ leave,” but toji only shushed your cries, hugging you to his chest tighter—not tight enough to hurt you of course. he pressed multiple kisses to the crown of your head, rocking the two of you side to side while you silently cried into his shirt.

he cracked the tiniest smile when he finally felt you clutch onto his shirt, your nose nuzzling more into his chest. “just breathe and listen to me okay?” toji waited for you to verbally answer before speaking once more.

“i do love you y/n, there is no one else for me but you. it’s just—whenever you talk about that stuff i get scared shitless. i never pictured myself as the husband type or the dad type until just recently and even then i feel like id be shit at it. then you’d eventually realize you could do better n’ leave me,” he said the last part so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. panic washed over toji’s face when you began to cry harder.

“that’s why you need to talk to me, if i would’ve known it spooked you i wouldn’t have kept pushing the idea,” you were so annoyed at him, but you definitely couldn’t ignore the way your heart swelled at his words. toji rested his cheek on the crown of your head, shutting his eyes, “i’m a fucking idiot. the biggest fucking idiot there ever were.”

“yeah you are,” you let out a tiny laugh, lifting your head up to get a good look at toji. his eyes were sad and cloudy, something you’ve never seen before, it made you wanna start bawling your eyes out all over again.

“i’m sorry baby, forgive me. please.” he pressed his forehead against yours, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “why won’t you look at me? look at me please y/n.” still nothing.

you let out a noise of surprise when toji suddenly fell on his knees, his big hands clutching onto the soft fabric of your his pajama pants. you finally made eye contact with him, your eyes already brimming with hot tears once more.

“forgive me. i’ll do anything—anything you ask of me. just let me come back and love you the right way—the way i should’ve been doing all this time,” he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in softness of your tummy. you ran your fingers through his hair, little hums of content leaving toji’s lips.

“fine. i forgive you toji.”

toji tilted his head up, his lips curling into a sad smile. you smiled back at him, giving his forehead three kisses before pushing him back. “now get your ass up you have a lot of making up to do,” you made your way to your bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way.

toji’s mouth was dropped in awe, his dick already twitching at the thought of finally being inside you again. he stood up on shaky legs, his eyes immediately locking on your discarded panties. he snatched them up and shamelessly took a look sniff, his eyes closing in utter bliss.

“what a fucking woman.”

“toji! bring your ass.”

“coming!”

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“a-ah! tojiii,” you mewled, yanking on toji’s jet black locks as he tongue fucked your pussy with everything he had in him. he had your knees pushed to your chest, securing them both with his large hands.

toji moaned into your pussy, swaying his head back and forth as he slurped up every drop you had to offer him. “s’fuckin’ good,” he slurred into your pussy, his dick jumping in his pants when he felt a gush of your wetness his his tongue.

he pushed his tongue into your clenching hole once more, his nose bumping into your clit each time his head moved. your toes curled in ecstasy as your second orgasm washed over you. “goddamn baby you tryna baptize me?” toji chuckled, giving your pussy three quick slaps.

“fuck you,” you mewled in overstimulation when you felt toji shove two fingers in your pussy, curling them just right. toji kissed his way up your body, stopping to give you a sloppy kiss.

“i intend to but i gotta stretch you out first if i wanna fit all the way in,” toji hummed, adding a third finger, his thumb quickly finding your clit to ease the stretch. you wrapped your arms around his neck, your whines and whimpers sounding like a symphony in his ears.

“feels so good toji,” you sighed dreamily, pressing your manicured toes against his hard on. toji hissed, his teeth catching onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “s’about to feel even better honey, open your legs,” toji swiftly removed his fingers from your cunt, a deep groan rumbling in his chest watching the way you clenched around nothing.

he pulled his sweats low enough for his dick to spring out but that wasn’t enough for you. “everything. take it all off, w’nna feel you against me,” your voice was so sweet and gentle compared to how it was earlier. it brought his heart so much peace knowing your words towards him were no longer full of anger and annoyance.

toji obeyed your wishes and removed everything. he pulled your body to the edge of the bed, pushing your knees to your chest once more. he tapped his dick against your pussy, fighting the urge to bust already just from how fucking wet your pussy sounded.

“ready for me baby?” his tone was soft as he slowly pushed the tip in. you nodded, your breath hitching when he pushed more in. it stayed like that for a moment—toji softly praising you as he slowly pushed all eight and a half inches of him inside you.

there we go—hah!” you both gasped in unison when he pushed himself in to the hilt. you feet knocked against his back, your body squirming at the feeling of being completely stuffed. “too big toji! it’s too much!” you tried to control you breathing you really did, but the way you could feel the thick veins on him throbbing against your walls had your mind already scrambled.

toji took in a long breath, attempting to get his thoughts together. this was about you not him. he was determined to make you see stars.

“you can take it baby—i know you can take it. gonna take me like a good girl like all those other times yeah? you wanna make me proud don’t you?” his thumbs caressed at your cheeks as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. he finally felt your pussy ease up, allowing him to draw his hips back, then forward.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, mouth dropping open as toji fucked you with every ounce of love he had to offer. “fell s’good around me baby, kept this pussy nice and tight for me. you knew i’d be back didn’t you?” both his strong arms caged your head, blocking you from seeing anything in the room but him. toji drew his hips back all the way before slamming back in, hissing when he felt your manicured fingers dig into his biceps.

“a-answer me y/n, answer me right now or m’gonna fucking pull out,” it was an empty threat, you both knew that, but that didn’t stop you from scrambling to find the words to answer him. “yessss yes i knew you’d be back! i— ah my god! i w-was waiting for an excuse to let you come in and i’m so hap—happy it happened!” even though your brain told itself multiple times to not let this man back into your life you heart was saying a whole nother thing. of course love always triumphs which is why toji’s got you folded like a damn pretzel, fucking into you so hard your body was sliding up the bed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ

“thas’ right baby take that fucking dick, take my cum so i can make you a pretty mommy,” toji growled pushing your face further into your pillows, drool and tears falling freely onto the soft cotton.

you’d lost track of how many rounds you’ve gone, your brain sounding like nothing but static. your hands that were once pushing against toji’s pelvis to slow his movements were now pinned to your back. you were filled with so much cum you almost felt bloated, but you didn’t care—not when toji was making the sweetest promises about making you a mother.

each time he came inside you he pushed any excess back into your spent pussy, and each time his dick got hard causing him to beg you for yet another round that you simply couldn’t refuse. this time around though you could tell he was tired, the way his thrusts went from sloppy to straight up grinding, the way he wasn’t even trying to contain his moans anymore—my mans was tired okay.

“i’m—i’m gonna cum again daddy, feels like a lot,” you clutched onto your pillow for dear life, your knees feeling like they were about to give out any second. one particular roll of his hips finally triggered your orgasm, making your eyes cross and your legs finally give out from beneath you.

that didn’t stop toji in fact it even encouraged him to be rougher, his thighs clapping against the backs of yours they were turning a light shade of pink. “f-fuck are you still fucking cumming? you’re soaking me doll,” he grunted, mesmerized by the way waves of cum leaked from your pussy each time he pulled out.

with one last thrust toji finished inside you with a deep groan, his chest rumbling against your back. toji sat back on his knees, whistling at the way his cum flooded out of your swollen pussy, staining your sheets even more. he kissed his way up your back, stopping at your neck to litter it with wet kisses.

“you okay mama?” he laid next you, pulling your limp body into his arms. you couldn’t respond—like actually you were entirely too fucking tired, so you settled on a loving pat on his chest along with a kiss to his jaw. toji chuckled, tilting his head to give your forehead three kisses.

as you dozed off to sleep in his arms toji took this time to admire you in your relaxed state. that furrow between your brows was no longer there, along with that oh so cute pout you were sporting when he first came inside your apartment.

“i’m gonna do right by you i promise y/n, i promise.”

[call-memissbrightside]

All I can think about is Katsuki dating someone with a baby—

His friends think it’s a bit odd since he’s in his early thirties and could still mess around before settling down but he’s not having it

You’re a bit nervous to tell him that you had a kid after a few dates, and you think he’s never going to hit you up again when he doesn’t really respond when you tell him, he just drops you off at your place with a emotionless look on his face.

You cry to yourself that night as you put your little girl to bed, and the two year old knows something’s wrong because she’s fussy through the whole night routine. You really liked Bakugou, he made you laugh and respect you but if he can’t accept your daughter than it's not going to work out.

Then the next morning he texts you that he got tickets for three to the local aquarium for the day. You call him, confused.

“That way we can take your daughter?” He’s confused by your question. “Why? Is she too little for the aquarium?”

You’re nervous as hell for him meeting Mai for the first time, but Katsuki is taken back at how your daughter looks just like you. She's adorable, and his stomach flipped taking in how you looked so beautiful in your jeans and simple shirt.

"Hi Mai, I'm Katsuki," He kneels down to the four year old's height but he's so big and the little girl immedietly burst into tears and hides behind your legs.

"Oh honey, it's okay," You coo at her, picking her up. Mai isn't convinced and hides away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry, she'll warm up," You explain, but you weren't too sure. Mai had a shy personality, and was very attatched to you. You just hoped that Bakugou would be patient with her.

Mai started shedding her shy personality once you arrived at the aquarium.

"Mom, fish!" She yelled in excitement, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster. Katsuki stands back and just watches you interact with your daughter. He knew he liked you, but seeing you be a mom did something to him and he imagined this being his life forever.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked when you noticed Katsuki seemed distracted.

He opens his mouth to answer but Mai interupts him when she squeals, "Mommy penguins!"

Katsuki was closer to her, and the little girl grabs his hand and drags him through to the penguin exhibit. Bakugou is taken aback, but quickly pushes back his fear of scaring her and kneels down to look at the penguins swimming as Mai squeals in excitement. She can’t pronounce his name correctly, so Mai just addresses him as ‘Suki which warms his heart.

It’s like a switch got flipped and Mai wouldn’t let go of Katsuki’s hand for the remainder of the tour through the aquarium. You stand back, smiling and snapping pictures, just watching as Bakugou showed a much softer side to him.

The day ended with Katsuki buying Mai the biggest stuffed penguin the aquarium store had, and the little girl could barely hold onto it as she fell asleep in her stroller.

“You didn’t have to get her that,” You said, feeling overwhelmed by his gesture.

Bakugou feels a string of anxiety pull in his stomach, wondering now if his actions were seemed as inappropriate.

“I-,” He tries to be truthful, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Mai just seemed so happy and I wanted to get her something to remember me by.”

That melts your heart, and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so sweet to my baby.”

Katsuki is blushing so hard, his ears are ringing as he helps you by packing down the stroller and putting it in the trunk while you tuck Mai into her car seat. The little girl was out, but still hugging her penguin.

Katsuki keeps the radio low as to not wake Mai as he drives you two home, holding your hand and already planning the next outing.

[formulaonecrumbs]

hi!! i’ve just like binge read all of your stuff and it’s so beautifully written

do you think you could do a charles fic with the co-parenting to lovers trope? like their kid helps them get together or like he flys out to see their kid and realizes that life is so much better with them? i have a whole like plot im sorry 😭

stay a little longer 🕯️

Charles Leclerc x ex(?)!reader

summary: co-parenting finally turns into something more when their daughter decides it’s time for a date.

warnings: co-parenting to lovers, kid matchmaker, suggestive content, kissing, car makeout, implied smut, love confessions, second chances

A/N: thank u anon for the requuessttt!!! i feel like i still don’t write charles very well 😭 like yes i believe the guy is romantic but i think i made that his whole personality in this WHOOPS. random but i love when drivers have girlfriends cuz now i got sm material for the mood-boards. i hope u enjoy it and as always love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

you never expected him to show up.

not like this, not without warning, not with that soft look in his eyes and a suitcase in his hand.

it’s been almost six months since you saw charles leclerc in person. six months since he kissed your cheek at the airport and promised he’d try to visit more. six months of facetime calls with your daughter holding your phone too close to her face, grinning with her tiny teeth and telling him she lost another one. six months of you pretending that you were completely fine raising her mostly alone while he chased podiums around the world.

but now he’s standing on your porch like it’s nothing. like he’s not the father of your child and also the person who once broke your heart in the softest, most unintentional way.

“hi,” he says.

you blink. “charles? what—what are you doing here?”

he looks down at his shoes. he’s wearing sneakers that used to live in your hallway. the ones your daughter would trip over every time she tried to run to the door. “i had a week off. i wanted to see her.”

you let him in because you always do. because she misses him even when she doesn’t say it, and because you’ve never been able to fully close the door on him.

your daughter screams ‘daddy!’ the second she hears him. he drops his bag and catches her mid-run, spinning her around in the tiny living room you’ve made your home. you watch from the kitchen, hands still on the mug you were making, heart doing something stupid and warm and dangerous in your chest.

“you’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she asks him, small hands on his cheeks.

he shakes his head. “not tonight. not for a few days, actually.”

and you swear, you see her little face light up with something more than excitement. something like hope.

it’s not supposed to be easy, but it is.

charles fits back into your space like he never left. he sleeps on the couch and does the dishes after dinner. he drives her to school in the mornings and makes up silly songs about brushing her teeth. he folds laundry while you’re at work and lets her paint his nails on the weekends.

and you keep waiting for it to feel like a mistake. to feel like a tease, like you’re slipping back into something that already ended.

but instead, it feels like healing.

like late nights where he sits across from you, whispering stories about races she’s too young to hear. like laughing over wine after she’s gone to bed, both of you tipsy on nostalgia and something heavier. something that tastes like maybe.

he doesn’t flirt. not really. but sometimes, he looks at you like he remembers every moment you ever shared. and sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he stares at you like you hung the stars.

it happens on a tuesday.

you’re rushing to get out the door for work. your daughter can’t find her other shoe and you’ve already yelled twice, which always makes you feel like a terrible mother. charles is standing in the kitchen, packing her lunch like he’s done it every morning for the past year instead of the last five days.

and then she says it.

“daddy, are you staying forever now?”

you freeze. so does he.

“because i think you should,” she continues, completely unaware of the tension she’s stirred up. “you make mommy laugh again. and you’re really good at pancakes.”

charles doesn’t look at you. he kneels down and kisses her forehead. “i love you, chérie,” he says quietly.

you don’t talk about it.

not until later, when she’s asleep and you’re both sitting on the back steps with a blanket around your shoulders and the sky full of stars.

“she wants us to be a family,” you whisper.

charles’s voice is soft. “i do too.”

your chest tightens. “charles…”

“i know,” he says. “i know i left. i know i haven’t been here like i should have. and i’m not trying to ask you to just forget it. but i want to be here now. not just for her. for you, too.”

you stare at your hands. your heart. the little cracks that never quite healed after he left.

“why now?” you ask.

he takes a breath. “because every time i see her smile, i see you. and every time i talk to her, i wish you were beside me. and because… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. letting you live your life without the mess of mine. but i’ve never been more wrong.”

you look at him. really look. and he looks scared. vulnerable in a way he never is behind the wheel. and you realize, in this quiet moment under the stars, that maybe you’ve been scared too.

you don’t say anything. you just reach out, take his hand, and let your fingers intertwine like they never stopped knowing how to.

he moves in slowly.

a toothbrush at first. then a drawer. then he’s picking her up from school without you asking, buying groceries like he knows the list by heart. you fall back into love like it’s muscle memory. slow, steady, familiar. this time, without the fear.

your daughter starts calling you her “mommy and daddy house.” she draws pictures of the three of you holding hands, all smiling with the sun in the corner.

one night, she asks if you and daddy are married again.

charles chuckles. “not yet, chérie.”

you shoot him a look. “not funny.”

he leans in, his voice low against your ear. “it could be.”

and you feel it again—that dangerous, stupid hope that maybe this time, it’s real.

because he came back. because he stayed. because your little girl believed in love enough to put it back together. and because this time, you’re ready to believe in it too.

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

she catches you holding his hand in the kitchen.

it’s not a big deal, really. just fingers brushing as you pass him the milk. but charles catches your pinky with his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and you smile in that way you only ever do with him.

your daughter sees it all from her seat at the table, eating cereal like it’s the most important meal of her life.

“are you guys in love again?” she asks, spoon halfway to her mouth.

charles pauses, milk almost spilling over the edge of his glass. “what?”

“you heard me,” she says, chewing dramatically.

you shoot charles a look. he shrugs, trying not to laugh.

“i think you are,” she continues, totally unfazed. “you look at each other like the people in mommy’s movies. and you sleep on the couch together sometimes. and daddy made you pancakes in a heart shape.”

you can’t even deny that one. he really did.

“okay,” she says, pushing her bowl away. “it’s time.”

“time for what?” you ask, even though you already know.

“you’re going on a date.”

charles raises an eyebrow. “we are?”

she nods. “yes. i’ll stay with mamie. and you two can go somewhere fancy. with candles and music. and then you’ll kiss.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “what is it with you and kissing lately?”

she grins. “uncle pierre says it’s how people fall in love.”

charles makes a face. “i’m going to block his number.”

you get ready while she helps charles pick out a shirt. you hear her scolding him for choosing the boring grey one and insisting he wears the one with the tiny flowers because “mommy likes when you look like a soft boy.”

you come out in a dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and charles just stands there, looking like he forgot how to breathe.

“wow,” he says softly. “you look…”

you raise a brow. “like a soft girl?”

he laughs. “like the girl i’ve been in love with since before i even knew it.”

you blink.

he smiles, nervous and sweet and very charles. “too much?”

“no,” you say, cheeks warm. “just enough.”

you drive to a little italian restaurant tucked away in the quieter part of town. it’s dimly lit, with fairy lights above the patio and old music playing inside. it’s romantic in a kind of unintentional way. the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to.

charles pulls your chair out for you and keeps glancing across the table like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

“this feels weird,” you say, sipping your wine. “in a good way. but weird.”

he nods. “like we’re pretending we’re not already a family.”

you smile. “yeah.”

“but i want this too,” he adds, eyes soft. “the dating part. the butterflies.”

you meet his gaze. “you still get butterflies?”

he reaches across the table, lacing your fingers with his. “every time you look at me like this.”

and god, you feel it too. that flutter. that full-body warmth that only ever comes when you’re really, really falling.

after dinner, he takes your hand and suggests a walk. it’s chilly but not cold, and the stars are out like someone painted them just for tonight.

“this is the part where we kiss under the moonlight,” you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

charles stops walking.

“what?” you ask, turning.

he steps closer. “i was waiting for the right moment.”

your breath catches. “is this it?”

he nods, eyes flicking to your mouth. “yeah. i think it is.”

and when he kisses you, it’s slow and soft and everything you’ve been missing for years. it’s full of promises and apologies and second chances. it tastes like wine and laughter and home.

you stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the streetlamp, kissing like you’re twenty and just discovering how good it feels to be wanted.

when you get home, the lights are low and the house is quiet. your daughter is asleep, curled up in her bed with her stuffed giraffe and the nightlight glowing faintly beside her.

charles shuts the door gently behind you.

you turn to him, heart racing, still a little breathless from the night.

“so…” you whisper.

he walks toward you, slow, eyes locked on yours. “so.”

“was this the part where we’re supposed to kiss again?”

he nods, grinning. “definitely.”

he backs you into the couch and kisses you until you’re both laughing and gasping and tangled in each other. his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, the world spinning just slightly off its axis in the best way.

“we probably shouldn’t wake her,” you mumble against his mouth.

“then we’ll be quiet,” he whispers back, kissing down your neck.

you end up in the car—because it’s late and you can’t quite make it upstairs, and also because there’s something wildly thrilling about being wrapped around each other in the dark leather seats, trying not to fog up the windows too much.

his hands on your thighs, your lips tracing every freckle on his collarbone, his voice low and hoarse as he says your name like a prayer.

after, you sit in the front seat, legs curled into his lap, his hand resting gently on your bare knee.

“we should do this again,” you say, grinning against his shoulder.

charles kisses your temple. “i plan on it.”

and you believe him. completely.

because this time, he’s not just here for the night. this time, he’s here to stay.

THE END :>

[moldycheezeit]

Prologue

Before You read I'm letting you know again this is the first time I've ever written fan fiction so if it sucks I'm sorry. :(  This does have swearing and mentions of death and blood. Also I think I'm just going to make batsis just a mix of Nami and Uraraka b/c idk how to incorporate Mitsuri into her. And if you watch mha or one piece I'm sorry if I don't make batsis accurate to both characters, even though I've watched both shows I feel like I'll mess it up somehow.

By the time you were born Bruce Wayne and his wife, your mother, had adopted Richard Grayson also known as the first robin or Dick. Your mother was heavily pregnant at the time and about to pop. But when the birth happened about a month later something went wrong, she lost too much blood and did make it. Overcome with grief Bruce nor Dick could look at you, because they couldn’t see a daughter/sister all they would see was the thing that killed somebody whom they loved. 

This caused Alfred to be the one who had named you because no one else would, so Alfred picked the name (y/n). He can remember how much your mom loved the name. But let's interrupt the sadness if you had to talk about your run in with your so called “family” it would be like this…

Dick would talk to you but it’s not like he enjoyed or wanted to so he made excuse after excuse to get out of talking with you. Like how he’d said “ I’m sorry (y/n) but Damian asked me to help him study you know how it is.” you knew he really meant training with Damian. another lie he'd say was “oh I’m busy at the moment i'll catch you next time.” which was never.

Jason was a great brother. keyword was, when he first joined he loved to hang out with you even if you couldn’t do much because you were a toddler. When he died no one told you well Alfred tried to explain that Jason would never come back but all it did was confuse you and made you start looking all around the manor for him hoping he would appear. When he did return you were 10 and wow was he an ass. When you tried to talk or bond with him like you used to he’d yell things like “go the fuck away” or “stop being such a whiny princess” God that man got irritated easily.

Tim, well you didn’t really talk to him. I mean you tried to, he seemed to like similar things to you, like building and inventing gadgets. But all he did when you tried to talk to him was just look at you with disgust in his eyes. Well screw him too. 

Now Damian what to say about this demon you're related to. The first time you met him was when you were 16, you were 2 years older than him. And kinda excited to meet someone other than Bruce you're related to by blood. God how blind you were. Damian had walked into the library while trying to find his way around the Wayne manor.

“Oh hello I’m (y/n) you must be Damian, Alfred had said you were to arrive some time today.” you had happily said to him. But he took one look at you and had the impression of who you were. “Tch.” Was all that was said but you knew instantly he thought you were some weak defenseless bimbo.

Bruce, god how you hate being related to this man. As you could tell he practically seemed to blame you for your mothers death. Like how is it your fault, you couldn't control if she was going to live or die. Anyways the man seemed to not care for what you do and where you are. The media doesn't even know about you so why bother acting like he cares. But why do you care about what he thinks you can practically have done everything on your own. Some father he is.

Lastly Alfred. He's the man that practically raised you. He was there for you when you were younger but the older you got the more you pulled away from him. You love him but anytime you bad mouth any of you “family” he instantly defends them.  You also have to remember he serves the whole family, not just you.

YIPPIE I FINALLY FINISHED IT (≧∇≦) hopefully you guys liked it. Well thats it for rn buy :)

Taglist: @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz

[obsesssedblerd]

oh, the idea of satoru attempting to get his hands on you numerous times throughout the day but keeps getting interrupted (bc y’know, he’s a busy sorcerer) and then finally snapping because he’s so pent up that he can’t think about anything other than fucking you makes me giggle. 

smut under the cut. MDNI. also, barely proof-read so sorry for mistakes lol.

----

You squeal with excitement when you hear the door to the apartment unlock. Satoru was home. Finally, he was back after spending two weeks away on business. The moment you see just a glimpse of his white hair, you rush towards him and wrap him in a tight hug, him lowering his Infinity just in time to scoop you off of your feet. You're hit with the scent of his cologne, the feel of his soft hair underneath your fingers, and you sigh in relief. Finally.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets with his usual smirk as your legs wrap around his waist. “Miss me?” 

He kisses you before you can respond, so you settle for humming into his mouth. He walks you both over to the living room, gently setting you on the couch before climbing on top of you. Your hands fumble with his jacket, and he helps you out by taking it off. He breaks away from your mouth to start doting messy kisses down your neck and collarbone. “Mmm, fuck. Missed you too,” he says, his voice deep with lust. “Been wanting this for so long, baby.” 

His phone vibrates, and he ignores it, deciding to focus on pulling your shirt up instead. When it continuously vibrates with multiple calls, he sighs irritatedly and pulls it from his pocket to see Yaga’s name on the screen.  

You giggle from underneath him, pulling your shirt back down and sitting up. “I think you should get that.” 

“This isn’t over,” he promises. He gets up and answers the phone, holding it up to his ear. “This better be important. …Huh?! I just got back from a mission, what the hell do you mean the higher-ups want to talk?!” 

— — — — 

“Alright, you all. That’s it for today,” you conclude your lesson with a clap, and the second years begin to gather their things. “Geto will meet you all in the field so you can have a lesson that’s a bit more active. Have fun!” 

They all express their excitement, then make their way outside of the classroom. They pass Satoru on the way out, who had just arrived only a few minutes before the end of your lesson. “Yeah, yeah, what she said. Hey, Okkotsu!” 

“Yes?” Yuta calls back. 

“Remember to—” 

“Work on that cursed energy control. Yeah, I got it,” the boy groans. 

You shake your head with a tiny laugh as Satoru shuts the door to the classroom. “I swear, Yuta is trying his best. He’s— Whoa!” 

Your back suddenly hits the wall, and Satoru is in front of you. His blindfold is raised, and you see the utter hunger pooling in his blue eyes before he’s kissing you, similar to the way he did that morning. You moan into his mouth, and your arms come up to wrap around his neck. “Mmm, fuck. T-Toru, we’re—” 

“Shhhhh,” he hushes against your lips. “Didn’t I tell you that this wasn’t over?” His hand begins to trail further down your body, eager fingers hurriedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Just try to be as quiet as possible, baby. I’ll be quick. Gonna make you feel so good—” 

He’s cut off with a knock at the door. “Gojo, are you in here?” 

Nanami.

“Busy!” He yells, a bit on the harsher side. 

“You’re with [Y/L/N] right now. Her lesson with the second years just ended. You do know that around this time, you’re supposed to be training the first years, right?” 

Satoru looks at the clock at the wall, then winces. It’s true, but still, he desperately needed you, otherwise he thought that he’d explode. “Just tell them I’m—” 

“Can’t. They’re right here with me,” Kento says flatly. “They’ve been waiting for at least half an hour.”

You hear Yuuji’s excited voice next. “Hey, Gojo-sensei! How was your mission?!” 

“Itadori, no need to shout. Seriously, we’re all right here,” Megumi grumbles.

“I’m with Fushiguro on this one,” Nobara comments. 

Satoru groans into your shoulder, and his fist hits the wall. Unable to take his strength, it caves, leaving a nice-sized hole next to the chalkboard. You stifle a laugh. Thank goodness that this wasn’t your classroom and you were only borrowing it.

He inhales sharply, then masks his annoyance and sexual frustration with a smile. “Alright! Be out in a second!” He calls out to them.

He sees you laughing into your hand, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “Just wait ‘till later.”

— — — — 

‘Later’ was far later than Satoru had hoped. After training the first years, Yaga talked to him about the next exchange event and how they were behind on planning, and then he had to shadow the second years on a mission that lasted what felt like forever.

You’re back in the apartment, humming as you finish tidying up the living room. You grab the basket of laundry, sit down, and begin folding towels. It was close to eight in the evening. You’re about to grab your phone to check on Satoru when you hear the door opening. 

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that I’d have to come and help out,” you say without looking up. “I mean, yeah, the curse was lower-ranked, but sometimes the second years—” You cut yourself off with a surprised scream as Satoru effortlessly hoists you with one arm, puts you over his shoulder and walks in the direction of your bedroom. Once you’re in there, he lightly tosses you on the bed, then yanks off his blindfold. His eyes are dark with a mixture of the hunger you saw earlier, and frustration.

“No more bullshit,” he says as he climbs over you, gathering your wrists and pinning them above your head. “If someone else interrupts, I might just hollow purple them.” When he kisses you, it’s far more intense than he’s ever kissed you today. His tongue explores your mouth, and you moan from the dizzying, yet pleasurable sensation. It’s not long before you’re both panting. His hands grip your shirt, and the sound of fabric tearing fills your ears. You gasp, your mouth falling open in shock when the scraps of your shirt as well as your bra are tossed aside. 

Satoru is breathing hard above you, nearly drooling as he stares at your upper body, his white hair beautifully framing his face. He dives in and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back arches off of the bed when you feel his tongue swirl around the sensitive bud, and you whine his name needily. He moans, alternating between using his teeth to leave gentle love bites on your tits and using his tongue on your nipples. It’s messy, greedy, and you don’t ever want it to stop.

Finally, he kisses further down your stomach, pulling down your leggings along with your panties and tossing them to the bedroom floor. He spreads your thighs, then licks a long stripe up your pussy, a loud, shameless groan of relief escaping him when he finally tastes you. “Oh, fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby,” he sighs, and he smiles devilishly up at you as he readjusts his hold on your thighs. “Think this pussy missed me just as much, if not more. She’s fucking soaked.” 

He only gives you a split second to take a breath to prepare yourself, then he’s devouring you as if he were poisoned and the antidote was inside of your pussy. His tongue swipes expertly across your folds, then it flicks against your clit. You bury your hands into your hair as pleasure zips through your body, the rest of the world fading away until all that’s left is you and Satoru. “Toru- Ohhhhh shit, baby. Fuck-” You gasp desperately when he gently sucks your clit into his mouth. He’s moaning loudly, drunk off of the taste of your pussy and from the feeling of you pulling his hair. 

You grind your hips against his face when you feel a knot beginning to form in your lower stomach, your breath stuttering as it tightens. You knew that this orgasm was going to blow any orgasm you gave yourself during the last two weeks while he was away on business completely out of the water. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you manage to tell him in between pants. “Oh, god, Toru, right there, right there, right there-” You feel your body begin to clench, ready to release. 

But then, Satoru stops. 

You whine frustratedly as your orgasm fades away before you could reach it, looking down at your boyfriend in between your thighs, who’s smiling deviously. “That was for laughing at me earlier,” he says after licking the rest of your juices off of his lips. “Not so funny now, is it?””

On a normal day, you’d be stubborn and attempt to piss him off, but today was different. Your head rests on the pillow, and your chest rises and falls with every pant, groaning in defeat. “Satoru, please,” you beg, keeping your voice as low as possible so he doesn’t hear the utter desperation. 

Satoru feigns confusion, and you see the pure delight in his eyes. Little shit. “Sorry, baby, what was that?” he asks. 

“Please,” you repeat louder. “Make me cum.” 

He hums as he pulls off his shirt. “I’ll think about it.” He stands up, and you sit up to help him with his pants, eager to taste him and take his cock down your throat. You pull his underwear down, and he stops you when he catches onto what you’re doing. “Another time, baby. Right now, I just really need to fuck you.” He kisses you once, and you moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. “It’s been too long. Lay back.” 

You lie back on the mattress, and he grabs your legs to gently pull you towards the edge of the bed, then places them on his shoulders. He slides his cock in, and the both of you moan in relief. Satoru doesn’t waste any time and starts fucking you fast, which you two needed. Being separated for two weeks on top of the usual stress of missions and teaching was horrible for you both. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Satoru moans loudly, not caring if anyone else heard, his eyes practically rolling into his head from the pleasure. “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good.” 

He slows the speed of his thrusts, but intensifies them by going harder, the salacious sounds of his hips meeting yours filling the room. Satoru looks down at you, taking in the o-shape of your mouth, your closed eyes and the way you're gripping the bedsheets as you whimper his name. He has to bite the inside of his mouth so he doesn’t cum too quickly. 

“Sat- Satoru,” you moan out deliriously as you open your eyes, gasping when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- Ah- so deep.” Tears blur your vision, and your boyfriend chuckles as he leans down closer to you, his thrusts relentless. Satoru kisses your cheek, then uses a thumb to wipe away a tear. 

“Aw,” he coos condescendingly into your ear. “You cryin’?” 

Your nails drag down his back, and he reaches in between where your bodies are connected to rub gentle circles on your clit. You feel that knot begin to form again, far more intense than before since you were edged earlier. “F-Fuck, Toru, I-” You’re cut off when his mouth meets yours for another messy kiss. He continues rubbing your clit, and you whimper behind his lips. He groans when your pussy begins to tighten around his cock. You grip his shoulders to steady yourself as your breathing begins to come out in short bursts. 

“Let go, baby, it’s okay,” Satoru purrs into your ear. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.” 

Your legs tense, your toes curl, and stars fill your vision as your orgasm takes you by force. You’re screaming his name as your body trembles, and Satoru murmurs encouragement into your ear as he fucks you through it. “Thaaaat’s it, pretty girl,” you hear, then he groans, also so close to finishing, his thrusts growing sloppy. “Fuck, baby...”

Though you’re dizzy from your orgasm, you muster enough focus to kiss him. You stroke his face, lovingly run a hand through his hair, then wrap your legs around his waist to bring him in even closer, encouraging him to give everything to you. You wanted him to cum—needed him to. The kiss and the faint pulsing of your pussy pushes him over the edge, and Satoru moans loudly into your mouth as he stills, spilling his thick load deep within you and coating your walls. He cums hard, his grip on you tightening as he breathes heavily. Finally, he collapses, but is careful not to crush you with his weight. 

Both of you are silent for a moment, remaining with each other as you mellow in the aftershocks of your orgasms. “Shit,” Satoru breathes out with a small laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. I thought I blacked out for a second.” 

You laugh with him, then press a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.” 

“Happy to be back. Missed you like crazy. Can’t believe I had to wait all day for that.” 

“Missed you too, and same here, but you gotta admit, it was funny.” 

Satoru tenderly smiles down at you, and your heart stutters at the sight of it. You were always weak for that specific smile. “It was, but, uh… you wanna know something else that might be funny?” 

“Hm?” 

“We broke the bed.” 

“....What?”

----

a/n: I just had to add "the" line lol. I couldn't resist.

[sleepymarimo]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥!

read cw! summary: how the straw hat pirates treat you, a free use member of the crew pairing: straw hat crew x afab!reader, appropriate characters only ofc! cw: mdni, free use, multiple partners, vaginal sex, oral (m! and f! recieving), creampies, fingering, handjobs, groping, sex machines, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, bondage an: this shit rated... porn. yes im sorry this is posted so late pls forgive me guys i love y'all wc: 2.8k+ for kinktober '23!

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘, as hyper and excitable as he is, doesn't fuck you as often as you thought he would. no, the captain can't say that he's particularly interested in sex.

however, what he loves to do, nearly everyday, is grope you. his hands always scramble to squeeze at your tits or ass, your tummy or thighs, and he'll do it at almost any time of day. when it came to this whole arrangement between you and the crew, he appeared to be the most shameless.

his rubber limbs seemed to sneak up on you at the most random times of day, his head poking out from around a corner and giving you a cheeky smile.

when he does use you for more than a grope or touch, it's always fun- a mutual experience that, more often than not, leaves you both laughing.

is willing to share! if he sees you busy with someone else, he'll interrupt without thought, be it with a smack to your ass or squeeze of your breasts

sometimes he'll let you wear the hat, usually if he's in a particularly good mood

sweet, fun and spontaneous. doesn't really mark you up, intentionally anyway, nor is he ever too rough. he'll make jokes, stretch in odd ways and makes sure you always have a smile on your face

an unintentional exhibitionist. he'll grope and fuck you anywhere, thinking it's funny watching people catch you. he's been yelled at by nami for it, though

finishes everywhere and anywhere, usually getting too caught up in the moment to really care. he's messy, not thinking twice about cumming on your face, in your mouth or on your breasts

likes overstimulating you, pushing you to your limits for the sake of fun

foreplay is not the best. sometimes he just gets too excited and uses his saliva to prep you. aftercare is a lot better! he'll get cuddly and bring snacks, becoming quite clingy with you

at first, 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 doesn't really take advantage of the free use arrangement. he's rather indifferent about it, perhaps not seeing the appeal.

that all changes after a battle that was much too close, his adrenaline running high. he throws you over his shoulder, harshly tossing you onto the bed and working to get his clothes off while growling at you to get on all fours.

he briefly remembers overhearing you talk to the girls about your times with sanji, and he makes it a mission to outdo the cook in any way he can.

you never know when he'll strike, but when you're standing on the deck and suddenly feel goosebumps rising on your skin, you know just to bend over

acknowledges that you're up for free use, but he's selfish. if he gets the urge and you happen to be with someone else, he'll most likely huff out an 'oi, move over' and get to it. usually though, he prefers to have you to himself, with your attention only on him

after a session with zoro, you'll likely be leaving with bites and bruises. he knows sanji's 'schedule' with you and intentionally fucks you beforehand, wanting to piss off the cook by leaving marks on you

had to be educated on foreplay! the others got mad at him when he put you out of commission for a few days, since he didn't prep you enough. could also use some work with aftercare, since he usually falls asleep

more than okay with taking advantage of the agreement in the sense that he allows himself to be a little bossy, as if it were a transaction (which it kind of is...)

lots of orders and quick commands. a deal is a deal, and he doesn't really build some sort of special attachment with you (like a certain cook will)

finishes in you or on your ass without fail. is pretty smug about it, mostly because he knows that the cook is going to be licking it up from you later

difficult to predict when he'll need you. could be a few times a day or twice a week or once a month. more likely to engage if he's drunk, just had a battle or if he knows sanji is near

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 has a pretty regular schedule when it comes to using you. with what she has to deal with on the ship, she wants nothing more than to plop onto bed, spread her legs and have you eat her out.

she doesn't hesitate to give you orders, somehow doing it in a way that's so sweet that you forget she's simply using you to get off. like luffy, shes also pretty big on groping, or at least, more than you'd expect.

a lot of 'innocent' touches. soft and curious pokes to your ass as you walk by. maybe a squeeze of your tits while the two of you hugged.

she's a touchy woman, up for cuddling and keeping you in the girl's cabin. nami knows the effect she has on you, using it to her advantage. when her cunning hands, she'll feel you up and give you compliments in that sultry tone of hers- the one she uses to get what she wants.

not a fan of sharing, especially with the guys. she is, however, more than willing to share with robin. with the three of you in the girl's quarters, things get pretty intense

very much a tease! she gets you worked up with the lightest of touches until you're begging her for more. nami makes you work for it

the navigator doesn't mind getting messy. she'll finger you, coax you into sucking them dry, then do it all over again. she likes spreading your wetness around, making a point to tease you about how excited you are

'better than all those dirty boys, right?'

head pusher and hair puller. when you're giving her oral, she isn't shy about letting you know what she wants

she likes being treated like a queen, obviously. nami feels high and mighty when you eat her out two or three times in a row, but when she sees how desperate you are for release, she starts coddling you and is quick to return the favor

is the first one to make you squirt, putting the guys to shame

nami is a busy woman. she mostly has you eat her out when she's stressed during the day, cuddles for a bit, then gets back to it. better with foreplay than she is with aftercare, but its fantastic all around

always seeming to hesitate would be 𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏, who thinks that for some reason, you'll say no to his advances. even after weeks of the arrangement being in place, he'll always ask if what he does is okay.

he’s so so sweet! he touches you like it’s the first time, every time. the sniper is prone to getting heavy bouts of confidence though! with shaky breaths, he’d ask you if he made you feel better than your captain. hell, he loves it when you call him captain.

when he does find it in him to be brave, he always manages to surprise you. he creates all sorts of contraptions, with sex being lighthearted and fun as you go through his projects together.

loves to restrain you, to feel like he has control of you. you help him grow more comfortable and confident, which he appreciates. plus, he gets to let out that pervy side of him that he usually tucks away.

reluctant to share, mostly because he doesn't want to be outdone. however, he and luffy sometimes team up to give you quite the fun experience. lots of jokes and just a hint of playful competitiveness, all of which leave you nothing short of satiated

uses you on a weekly basis, but cozies up to you nearly everyday. he makes jokes about what he has in store for you, making promises of pleasure that leave your stomach in knots

an unintentional marker. might spank you too hard or leave a bruise, which makes him wheeze in embarrassment before he feels a swell of pride. a sort of 'i did that?!' to 'oh… i did that'

ties you up in all sorts of ways

he really does get off on your whines and moans. likes when you're loud

loves when you give him head. the control he has, combined with your sole focus on him, drives him crazy

the sound of you gagging on his cock turns him on more than he'd ever admit. he'll get a confidence burst and start to be more rough

loves finishing down your throat. he feels so confident and cocky, but as soon as he cums he's nervously asking if you're okay

good with foreplay and even better with aftercare… worries about your well-being and shows his gratitude toward you and your willingness to participate. tells you stories after you're all done, lulling you to sleep

when the arrangement was finalized, 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 was one of the first to take advantage of it. nearly every day he indulges in the sweetness you offer. eating you out is a must! even though sanji is aware that this is just an agreement of sorts, it doesn't stop him from growing a little more attached to you.

sex with him is all encompassing and intense in the softest way possible. he does a good job of making you feel prioritized and wanted, beyond the scope of the free use deal. he's more attentive to your desires and how you want to get fucked on any given day.

truthfully, he's just happy to be able to serve you. funny enough, he tries to be respectful when it comes to groping you around the ship or in public. while luffy might be shameless in how he touches you, sanji does not want to make you uncomfortable or taint the 'lady-like' image he has of you.

he sees you as a meal which must be savored, after all.

sanji prefers more intimate sex, even if it's just an agreement. for this reason, he's not huge on sharing.

sometimes though, while he's getting hot and heavy with you, zoro will just barge in and remind the cook that you're free use, before just… joining

gets pissed off when he spreads your legs and sees zoro's cum leaking out of you. it doesn't stop him from lapping up each drop though, since nothing could keep him from that pussy of yours

sanji uses you on the daily. the cook's appetite is insatiable, but he always makes sure to prioritize your comfort and pleasure

such a sweet talker, swirling his tongue over your clit and insisting that you're the most precious person on the ship

likes leaving subtle marks on your body, on more intimate areas that you'll forget about until you're alone.

the spot below your ear, the insides of your thighs, the delicate skin of your wrist… he thinks that smaller bites and marks have their own charm. big ol' bruises on your collarbone or neck just seem so brutish!

finishes wherever you want him to. there are moments where he'll beg to cum inside your cunt, though. you gladly let him do so.

aftercare king. any food you want is yours. he'll draw a bath for you and eat you out one last time for good measure. gets irritated when he sees the others being too rough with you

miss 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 is a force to be reckoned with. it takes her a few days before she has her first session with you, not because she was hesitant, but because she was waiting. watching.

she can play the long game, reading your cues and how you behave after having sex with other members of the crew. once she's sure she can break you down, she takes you. sex with robin is always a dizzying experience, almost unreal. between the many hands caressing you all over, and that cat-like gaze of hers, it's hard not to lose yourself.

very much a dominant lover, though whether she's soft or mean depends on her mood. regardless, she takes pleasure in watching you writhe and come undone.

it's a power play, a control she isn't fond of relinquishing.

only shares you with nami, franky and occasionally jinbei (if he's up for it), mostly because they can read the mood and follow her lead

weekly user, perhaps thrice a week if she's feeling up for it. most of the time, she's content to get you worked up for her and her only.

you can try to run off to someone else, but she knows she brings a certain element to the bedroom that no one can match

robin is slow and steady, curling her fingers just right and pulling away when you're about to burst. she's the second member to get you to squirt

she's nice to you in the meanest way possible. a lot of 'my, you're quite excited today' and 'such a sweet little thing'

hands on you and your most sensitive areas at all times. rubbing your clit, twisting your nipples and stroking every inch of skin. it's a full body experience.

does not particularly care for marking you up, physically at least. she leaves her own prints on you, something more soul-binding that goes beyond bruises and bitemarks that are bound to fade

takes care of you well before and after sex. she doesn't really indulge in quickies, only having sex when she knows the two of you will have an extended period of time to really enjoy it

on a more serious note, robin is also the one to explain to chopper what is going on between you and the crew. it does seem odd to the little reindeer, but he makes sure to be ready with contraceptives or pelvic exams when you need them.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐘 always has something special whipped up for you. within the first few days of you agreeing to this free use agreement, he indulged in you.

his dirty mind runs free with you and he doesn't hesitate to try out some new toys. thrusting sex machines and vibrating saddles… he has so many prototypes that he loves watching you squirm on.

he's also been able to give himself…upgrades that make things even more interesting. his favorite would be his detachable dick. he'll attach it to machines, watching and feeling as it effortlessly works into you.

he's not shy about such matters, not at all. sex with him is fun and he does a wonderful job of making you feel high-spirited and confident. your enthusiasm feeds into his pervy side.

down to share with anyone, honestly. this cyborg is up for most anything, given that you are, too

has you on the daily, but you never know when. sometimes it's in the morning, other times while you're getting ready for bed. if he's just restocked his cola though, you can expect a round or two

gives you his detachable dick and lets you use it as a dildo, so he can feel your cunt around him even when he's working in the shop

he eats you out and makes it messy. he spits and slurps as if your cunt was cola-flavored

likes getting head the same way. the sight of you with drool lining your lips and chin, mouth stuffed with his dick... he might let out an 'ow!' right then and there

doesn't mark you up intentionally. he just does his thing and makes sure you feel good. if he happens to leave some marks, he doesn't think too much of it

gets a little pissed off when zoro or luffy mark you up too much. he thinks they don't have to be that rough...

enjoys cumming on your chest and breasts. he's a simple man with simple pleasures

big on foreplay, but could work on his aftercare. he likes getting you worked up, likes to see you eager, but afterwards he's just so out of it. usually falls asleep and maybe hooks an arm around you

resident pervert 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 does not hesitate. once the agreement was set into motion, your panties were quick to be snatched up.

the skeleton is a voyeur, preferring to watch as opposed to actively participating. even when you know he's spying on you, you pretend not to notice. whether it's you masturbating or having sex with another member of the crew, you can bet that he's peeping in.

brook is also very much into groping, never missing the opportunity to squeeze your plump flesh when you walk by.

truthfully, he just revels in being a pervert, especially when he knows there aren't any consequences.

up for sharing in the sense that he likes to watch. some members are more okay with it than others

he's scared the living daylights out of usopp, has been threatened by zoro and gotten encouragement from franky. he just laughs though, finding a thrill in getting caught

his eye (sockets?) are on you pretty frequently. at the end of everyday, he'll ask for your panties and pockets them with gusto

it's common for brook to ask for your panties after you're done having sex with someone else. he just thinks it's so naughty!

he'll walk by you and ask you to flash him, losing his mind every time you lift your shirt and show him your breasts

his groping is never hard enough to leave marks. he likes the squishy skin, since he's all bone, so he just has a hand on you and absentmindedly squeezes your breasts like you're a walking stress ball

like he always asks for your panties, he always asks for permission to touch and grope you

one of the most respectful would be 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐄𝐈. it takes him a while to settle into the whole arrangement. a part of him did see it as taboo, especially considering that he's a fishman.

however, he realizes that what he asks of you doesn't have to be inherently sexual. that's why, jinbei enjoys having you do mundane tasks for him, all while completely nude. his eyes are never lewd or hungry, but thoughtful as he watches you fold his clothes or make his bunk.

ever the respectful man, he doesn't want to leer at you as if you were an object. things build slowly and intimately between the two of you.

it starts as you wandering around without clothes, then it's mutual masturbation, then eventually he's fucking you.

this fishman prefers to have you to himself. he wants sex to happen in a comfortable atmosphere. it's a calming, almost therapeutic environment that he prefers to navigate you through, without the presence of others

would not mind if robin joined in, seeing as she's mature and would enjoy the vibes

he prefers not to have sex when he knows he's in a bad mood. he doesn't want to let such trivial, emotional matters guide him, but sometimes it's not avoidable, so…

marks come in the form of spanks, red patches on your ass that he's quick to soothe with a rough palm. it's a way for him to get his anger and frustration out, though the next day, once he's calmed down, he's quick to apologize

cumming inside you seems so taboo that he finds himself doing it more than he should. it's a guilty pleasure that he denies himself less and less as time goes on

sex is weekly, sometimes less. he has a fairly good handle on himself and makes it a point not to lose himself in pure lust.

he also very much takes into consideration that you're busy with others, so he doesn't want to overwhelm you

once this little arrangement is finalized, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 never worry about being alone or untended to. they know better than to leave their little free use doll unsatisfied.

when you're sick or unwell, it's everyone's problem. though you're the one being used, you're so protected and well cared for, like their secret treasure.

even if some don't explicitly express their gratitude, anyone can acknowledge that this agreement takes a toll on you in one way or another.

luffy lends you his hat, zoro shares his sake, nami loans you money, usopp makes you trinkets, sanji lets you get first pick on dessert, robin teaches you how to read poneglyphs, franky designs machines for you, brook plays you special tunes and jinbei lets you ride on all the whale sharks you want.

overall, it's a pretty sweet deal!

taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @flower-hua, @iwannachokeontojifushiguroscock (thank y'all for being patient 🫶)

[urhoneycombwitch]

mean mouth

sub!Eddie Munson x Reader Eddie likes when you talk a lil' mean to him. game over once you figure it out.

foreword: n e ways. just a little exploration of that boy's early-day sub tendencies. I generally write Eddie as older but since this takes place in some nebulous time before s4 u can think whatever u want +18. ‘unnamed freak’ is Jacob. punk band name was not thought of by me but isn’t it great <3

cw: gn!reader w/breasts + V, oral (R receiving), unprotected PiV, soft!dom(ish) R, Eddie subbing from the top 😎, gotta-be-quiet-when-we-fuck trope my beloved

wc: 3.7k

____

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Eddie’s a blur of motion in the little trailer kitchen, knocking against your knees where you’re propped up on the counter (not entirely helpful but, in his words, ‘much-needed eye candy for the chef’), closing cupboards with a bang and talking animatedly over the hiss of onions cooking.

Your boy is loud, always has been, and tonight is no different- he’s crowing and cackling, recounting a particularly genius foible that he’d orchestrated during last night’s campaign, wooden spoon dipping in and out of heated pots over the stove like some crazed frizzy-haired potions master. 

“And then.” He punctuates with a jab of the spoon towards you, a long drip of spaghetti sauce narrowly missing your leg- you flinch and squeak in alarm, but Eddie just grins wildly, eager to get to the punchline. “Red rolls a natural. Fucking. Twenty.” 

“Holy shit!” Your smile is wide, natural and easy for him- Eddie’s excitement is infectious. 

“I know!” Eddie spins back to the stove, plunking the wooden spoon back into the simmering sauce before opening the oven. Heat from the broiler rises in a mouth-watering cloud of herby smell, and Eddie reaches for the metal sheet of garlic bread, still talking. “Couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. And then I- shit!”

You don’t put the pieces together until Eddie’s spinning away from the open oven, whole body moving with the force of his hand being shaken in the air- he’d touched the roiling-hot metal with his bare hand.

“Oh, shit, babe-” Sliding from the counter, you nudge the oven door closed with a foot, reaching out to assess the damage- but Eddie’s a whirlwind, jumping up and down, swinging his injured hand around in jerky movements, howling in pain.

It’s kind of freaking you out, ‘cuz you can’t tell if he’s playing up or if he’s actually got a third-degree burn. The voice that comes out of you is commanding, one that you rarely use, firm and louder than his hollering. 

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake- stand up and let me see it.”

That seems to do the trick. Eddie’s eyes snap to you, pausing mid-hop, and you take advantage of his semi-stillness to snatch his wrist and drag him towards the sink. The water runs cool and you turn his palm over in both of yours, breathing a sigh of relief when the pink welt across the bridge of his hand doesn’t have any blisters.

“Under the water,” you instruct, pushing at his silver-link braceleted wrist until he gets the memo, letting the flow from the tap ease the burn.

Eddie hisses through his teeth, and then goes quiet for the first time in ages.

There’s a few moments of this strained silence as you watch his hand carefully, color leaching back into his palm until you notice Eddie’s looking at you sideways.

Your shoulders hunch in a bit, arms crossed over your chest as you take a step back, misinterpreting his look as wounded. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just-”

“Hey, whoa, no-” Eddie’s hand automatically reaches for you, dripping water on the floor until he remembers his injury with a wince and plunges it back under the tap. “You don’t have to apologize for that. At all. Um.”

His left hand, the uninjured one, braces against the linoleum, ringed knuckles creaking as he shifts his stance. He sounds uncomfortable, and you’re about to start apologizing again until he lifts his head, eyes twinkling- “You were so bossy. It was totally hot.”

A shocked laugh burbles out of you, unsure if he’s joking or not- when he shifts his weight again, your gaze flickers down to the zipper of his dark jeans- he’s fully hard. 

“Oh my god.” Split between amusement and mortification, adrenaline from seeing him get hurt fizzing through your veins, you laugh again- this time, sardonic, into your hands, shaking your head. “Jesus christ, Eddie.”

“Can’t help it.” He’s close to whining, hips pressing flush into the cabinet, partly to relieve the ache in his groin and partly to toy with you. “Goddamn. Sound so sexy when you tell me what to do-”

There’s a teatowel hanging from a nearby rack; you snatch it up and whip it at Eddie’s shoulder, playful and irritated as you snap, “Shut up.”

“Oh, yeah, just like that, baby-” Eddie’s fake sultry voice earns him another towel-whip, this time at his neck- he squawks, ducking to avoid another blow while still keeping his hand under the water.

“Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous,” you announce with finality, slinging the towel over your shoulder and turning on your heel. “I’m gonna get the burn cream. Try not to cum or die while I’m gone.”

His bright laughter follows you all the way down the hall.

___

The next time it happens, it’s sort-of on purpose.

Eddie’s glowing with a post-show rush- a local business convention meant Corroded Coffin got to play for a nearly-packed room. Nevermind the fact that their Bruce Springsteen cover was the one bringing in the most applause; Eddie’s always been able to feed off the energy of a crowd, and tonight was a riotous success.

The Hideout is loud but your boy is louder, as per usual. There’s sweat curling the baby hairs at his temples, bright spots of flushed pink in his cheeks from the round of whiskey you’d bought the band as a congrats. 

He’s making a toast to his laughing bandmates, to beautiful you, to any nearby drunk who will listen, proclaiming his lust for life with one boot on the well-worn table in noble pose.

“And to Bev, the best of us-” Eddie tips his half-empty glass towards the nearby bar, shouting over the din of the jukebox and lively chatter, “-may your sharp-tongued wit live on!”

Bev pauses service to flip him off, and Eddie collapses back into the comfort of your arm over the booth’s top, grinning when the band trio of Jeff, Gareth, and Jacob nearly fall out of their chairs with laughter.

It’s always hot to see Eddie in his element, and tonight’s not an exception. He turns to lean into you, looking down the slope of his pretty nose like he knows why you’re staring.

A charming wink precedes, “Come here often?” but his flirting is interrupted when Jeff gets up for another round and bumps the table- whiskey sloshes over the side of Eddie’s cup and coats his hand in stickiness. 

He swears viciously, yanking out his bandanna to wipe at the mess while you laugh over the rim of your own glass at him. “Real smooth, babe. Good thing you killed it on stage, otherwise I might not take you home.”

Eddie’s eyes light up, inhaling for another cheesy line to wow you with when his gaze flicks past you and his face falls. 

Across the table, Jacob mutters, “Oh, shit,” and Gareth glowers.

Following their eyelines, you look over your shoulder to see Nico Hawley, frontrunner of Hawkin’s own punk band (the Scumshots), enter through the front door in a cloud of cigarette smoke.

When you turn back to Eddie, he’s already twisting the damp bandanna around his rings. The usual softness of his doe-brown eyes are now flint-sharp, and with a rush of panic, you remember the last time Eddie and Nico ran into each other; the night had ended with you back at the trailer, holding a cold pack to Eddie’s split lip, which he’d received from engaging in what he referred to as “friendly fisticuffs”.

There was nothing friendly about the way Eddie stood, then, to his full height, dark and imposing with his big mane of hair and leather jacket. The other Corroded boys won’t start any shit themselves, but will absolutely back Eddie up (fearless leader, resident shit-starter, instigator extraordinaire). 

Time’s running out for you to get a handle on the situation, Eddie already moving to slide past you out of the booth when you snag his left jacket sleeve in a tight grip.

The first yank you give stops him in his tracks; the second, more intentional tug gets his face level with yours, Eddie’s hardened stare giving way to confusion as you pull him into your space. 

In that same authoritative tone, you pin Eddie in place with a fistful of leather and command, low, right in his ear to be heard above the bar noise, “Don’t. Sit down and be good.”

At first, you’re not sure it worked, because Eddie’s just staring at you- slightly slack-jawed, pretty pink o mouth as his gaze flickers to your lips, back up to lock in your gaze again.

And then, by some miracle, Eddie obeys. Like a well-trained, marvelously-behaved dog. He’s back in his seat with a jolt to the booth, hand curling around his whiskey again. 

Curls spill and shift around jacketed shoulders as he shoots the rest of the glass, adam’s apple bobbing, other hand slipping to cup your thigh hidden from view. “It’s not worth it,” he announces to the rest of the group, sounding strained, staring at the bottom of his empty glass, knuckles white with force.

Jake sighs, relieved, but Gareth scoffs, tipping the neck of his beer across the table to point, goading Eddie with  “Since when have you been the one to take orders?”

“Shut up,” Eddie shoots back, blood returning and redistributing enough from where it had all rushed south, enough to defend you and himself against his drunk bandmate. “We’re already on Hop’s shit list, asshole, can’t be catching any more charges for stupid fuckin’ bar fights.”

Nico had disappeared into the throng of people at the bar while your group has been arguing- probably for the best that he’s out of eyesight. Unperturbed by Gareth’s comment (he likes you fine, he’s just grumpy from the alcohol and itching for a fight), you sip your drink and give him a shameless wink. 

Underneath the tabletop, Eddie’s palm flattens over your jeans, fingers dipping to toy with the denim seam hugging the fatty plush part of your inner thigh. You shift your hips, subtly, feeling flush with heat and power. Just a couple of words and you have him eating out of your goddamn hand. 

Jeff returns, setting a handful of beers in the middle of the table. “Saw that shitstain Hawley at the bar. What’d I miss here?”

Gareth swoops in with accusatory explanation, seizing another bottle out of Jeff’s hands. “What you missed is Eddie’s balls on a leash-”

“Jealous you don’t have someone at home to tie you up, Emerson?” Eddie’s dig comes swiftly, lips quirked in a smile around the rim of his drink. 

There’s a raucous burst of laughter, Gareth’s curly mop of hair gets ruffled playfully, and everyone eases back into celebration, all while Eddie’s thumb edges closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

___

The next time, though? Totally on purpose.

There’s a sliver of gold from the hallway light spilling under Eddie’s closed door, left on in case Jeff or Gareth needed to use the bathroom during the night. 

And despite the fact that two of his bandmates are passed out on the couch and floor just a short walk away, Eddie’s hands are exploring the length of your body under the sheets like he’s got plans to map you with his tongue. 

“We- ah- can’t.” Your whispering scold is interrupted with a sharp gasp when Eddie nips at your neck. “No fooling around. Not when we have guests.”

His left hand drips over the swell of your breast, squeezing and kneading, your nipples perking to attention (traitors) underneath the bra you haven’t yet had the chance to take off.

Eddie adopts your quiet tone as he speaks between kisses that trail further down your body, not outright ignoring your weak protests but not doing much to combat them, either. “Mmm. Got me so worked up. Been driving me crazy since the bar, y’know that? ‘S cruel, baby, can’t just talk mean and expect me not to act on it.”

“Wasn’t mean,” you counter, hands shifting automatically to wind through the soft locks of hair tickling at your stomach as Eddie continues his path downwards. “Didn’t wanna have to patch up a split lip. Had to make you behave somehow.”

The vibrating groan Eddie gives against the soft skin of your stomach tickles; when you squirm, shushing him again, his hands slide to your hips, pinning you in place. 

Nose to your navel, warm breath fanning across the strip of skin just above the band of your panties, Eddie sounds strung-out already, close to begging. “Please, baby. I’ll be good. Make it so good for you. I’ll be quiet-”

His head snaps up at your sudden gasping laugh, chin perched on your tummy as he scoffs. “What, you don’t think I can keep quiet?”

“Eddie Munson, you couldn’t be quiet to save your life.” Your hands migrate to his cheeks, squishing them together fondly as he grins around your touch, his thumbs working circles at your bare hips. 

“Ye of little faith.” In the dim light of the room, Eddie’s teeth are a flash of white before his mouth dips to press against the wet patch at your underwear.

“Fucking… shit-!” The expletives fly out harshly, only because you weren’t expecting the wet stripe of his tongue against your clothed folds. Head dropping back to the comfort of your pillow, you get one hand in Eddie’s hair again, the other finding its way to twist at the sheets.

You can feel his smile, equal parts smug and sympathetic as he coos saccharine to your inner thigh- “Now, now, angel. Gotta be quiet.”

Not willing to lose the fight, you focus on clamping your mouth shut, eyes closed in concentration- even as Eddie slides your underwear down and off, a quick flash of blue fabric before it’s swallowed by the floor’s darkness. Even as he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard like he’s been deprived of your taste for too long.

When his tongue breaches your entrance, a soft gasp escapes, one that has your head turning sideways to grab some pillow with your teeth. 

Eddie brings the wetness from your entrance up again, spreading it over your pulsing clit, nerve endings fizzing bright and hot in your stomach from the attention.

On instinct, your right leg kicks out, jolting with the spasm of pleasure- Eddie’s quick, though, taking advantage of the movement to find a new hold at the back of your thigh; rings biting cold, he pushes until you bend for him, your knee now pressed towards your chest.

“Gonna make it so good for you.” Eddie’s mumbling pussy-drunk rambles into your cunt that’s now on display, dragging his nose through the slick that weeps out of you, all for him- “So wet for me, angel. Fuck’s sake. This all for me?”

As if he doesn’t know. The hand that isn’t busy holding you open trails up your thigh, middle finger teasing at your entrance before slipping inside, no resistance thanks to the river of slick that rushes to greet it.

There’s a soft squelching noise as Eddie adds a second, curling them up, stroking against that tender gummy spot that always skyrockets your pulse. 

The noise is almost enough to give you pause; feeling wild and flush with heat, your hand tightens in the crown of Eddie’s hair, eyes popping open as you prop yourself up on an elbow to give a strangled hiss of warning through your teeth.

Eddie senses your unease, pulls his fingers and mouth out and off (a travesty), softening the blow by giving a placating kiss to the top of your mound. “Shhh, sweetheart. S’okay. You hear that?”

Past the noise of nighttime crickets from the nearby cracked window, past the hum of the kitchen, you hear it as Eddie crawls back up- distant, tandem snores from the boys in the living room.

“They sleep like the dead. Like rocks,” Eddie promises, settling his weight into his hands planted on either side of your head, hair creating a curtain around your faces as he leans in. “So we can get our rocks off.”

“That was awful.” You kiss him anyways. He tastes like you, earthy and warm and wet, saliva mixed with your arousal as the kiss turns sloppy.

Eddie rocks his hips forwards, the friction from the fabric of his boxers making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. He’s achingly hard, cock leaking and smearing precum through the cotton; there’s a hurried, manic shift as you both work to strip the last pieces of clothing from yourselves, his boxers and your bra following your underwear from earlier into the dark of the room.

And then Eddie is sliding his cock through the folds of your pussy, slicking up the sizable length as much as he can before the tip nudges at your entrance; Eddie’s arms tremble with effort as yours wrap around his shoulders, soothing with a kiss to his cheek- “Lotta talk about keeping quiet, Munson. That’s all it was? Just talk?”

Now that his mouth isn’t intent on making you fall apart anymore, you’ve got some breathing room to tease. To be the one to work him up. Tucking a curly lock of hair behind his ear, your fingers trace adoringly over his temple before sliding to grip the back of his neck. “Gonna prove me wrong, hotshot?”

With this new proximity, you can see Eddie’s eyes- fixed intently on yours, black pupils nearly eclipsing the soft amber of his irises. He looks slightly feral, sweat sticking his bangs in place, lips parted, spots of pink staining his cheeks. 

As if he doesn’t trust himself to speak, Eddie’s near-silent as he slides himself in to the hilt, jaw dropping as the warmth from your walls encompasses him completely.

The chained guitar pick around his neck tickles between the valley of your breasts. He pants, chest heaving, not daring to move yet; your breath stutters. You can feel him in your throat.

“So big,” you murmur, an honest reaction but one that has Eddie’s brows drawing together, a little whine escaping as his hips jerk forward, reflexive to your words.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.” 

Eddie’s voice, strained though it may be, is on its way to regular volume. At the back of his neck, your hand flexes, a warning as he begins to rock steadily into your tight heat. 

“Gotta be good.” Biting back your own groan, you sling your leg over his waist. At this angle, you can press your heel to the dip of his lower back. “Be good and quiet for me and I’ll let you come in my p-”

His hips snap forward, audibly, subsequent wet noise obscene, filling the room. Eddie moans into the curve of your neck before your sentence is even fully formed- “Jesus, baby. Oh my god. Can’t say stuff like that, gonna come too quick-”

His cock fits along the contours of your cunt like you were made for him, ridged tip dragging against that same sensitive spot of your front wall with each pull and thrust.

Eddie’s forehead thunks into yours as he rolls it back and forth, mindlessly. All the tease has melted out of his voice: it’s been replaced with a lust-filled rasp, rock-salt and deep. 

Your voice, however, is all tease, still hushed but laced with mischief despite your mounting pleasure. “Yeah? Gonna come in my pussy?”

It’s almost not fair and you almost feel bad, seeing the way Eddie fights to make his gasp silent as the channels of your cunt clench in answer to his fucked-out expression. With his next thrust, Eddie loses the battle- a hoarse, blissful moan much too loud spills over and out into the quiet room. 

Moving quick, your hand slips from the back of Eddie’s neck to his mouth, palm flat over the plush of his lips.. The commanding tone comes easy this time (with practice, you’ll surely be a natural).

“Eddie. Be. Quiet.”

Usually, Eddie’s got stamina enough to prioritize your pleasure, making sure you’re taken care of at least twice before he even thinks of himself. Tonight, though, he’s already been straining in his jeans for hours, unbearably turned on from your earlier sharp words, pushing the limits of desperation.

Your words, once again, do the trick. Eddie’s cock pulses, and he comes hard, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your hand, chorus of whimpers successfully dampened. His dark brows knit together, eyes pinched shut, nostrils flaring with each stilted breath.

He’s so fucking hot when he comes, hair a riot around stormcloud eyes that open to take you in. Even prettier when he’s coming down, leaning into your hand for support before you take it away, guiding and encouraging him to lay down.

Eddie collapses, carefully enough that it doesn’t jostle you, but still with his full weight. The crown of his head radiates heat against your chin. 

His arms wrap solidly around your middle as he whispers (he’s learning) in croaky fragments, “Jesus fucking H. I think you just broke my brain. Smashed it into a million little pieces. Never come so hard in my life. I’m in love with you.”

The laugh you give him is quiet but golden, the rise and fall of your chest causing his head to bounce a bit (but Eddie could die happy between your breasts so he doesn’t mind). “See? It’s worth it to listen to me, sometimes.”

“You’re so smart. Gonna do whatever you say, forever and ever. Cart-blank.” And then he’s pushing up onto his elbows, keeping his face level with your left breast so he can suck your nipple into his mouth, gently worrying his teeth over the peaked bud.

Previously tangled in the sheets, your hand flies up to grab his shoulder, nails digging in. “Fuck. Fuck, Eddie. That’s good. And- ah- it’s ‘carte blanche’.” 

He leaves the comfort of your breast with a sigh. “Whatever you say, princess. Gonna let me fuck you some more? Your turn to be the loud one.”

[billiesgirlsworld]

this is me trying

billie’s been on tour and her fans are nothing but ruthless toward you. you decide to take matters into your own hands; tw: disordered eating

word count: 2k

You stared in the mirror, your shirt littering the floor. You stared at your ribs poking through your skin. Your cheeks were sunken in. Billie had been gone on tour for three months and she was finally back in LA. Your hands were shaking and you didn’t know how you were going to explain the dramatic drop in size to her. But you just couldn’t take it anymore.

Her fans were ruthless. They picked everything about you apart. Your hair color, your eye color, the clothes you wore. But the one thing that killed you the most was your weight. Every paparazzi photo that leaked. Every photo you would post. They would always point it out. The extra skin on your stomach. The small amount of fat on your thighs. It broke your heart every single time. But you never told Billie. She didn't need to know about it. She had finally been able to ignore the mean words that were always spread about her and you didn’t want to burden her with yours. You were a big girl and you could handle it on your own.

The sound of your phone ringing made you jump. You quickly put your shirt back on, racing over to your phone. It was Billie. You quickly answered it, taking a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby! Ugh I’m so happy to hear your voice. You still coming to the show tonight?” Billie’s voice was full of excitement and a hint of nervousness. 

You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course I’m still coming to the show. I have to support my girl.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” Billie said. You could hear the smile on her face.

You smiled softly. “I can’t wait to see you either.”

You could hear Billie yelling at someone. Her words were muffled so you couldn't quite make out what she was saying. “I’m sorry, babe, I have to get back to rehearsal but I’ll see you before the show, okay?”

You silently breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, love. I’ll see you later.”

“I love you,” Billie said seriously.

“I love you too,” you said before hanging up.

You let out a sigh, laying down on your bed and staring up at the ceiling. Your stomach rumbles but you ignore it. You don’t remember the last time you had an actual meal that wasn’t just a couple random fruits or vegetables. You pick your phone back up, looking at the time. You curse to yourself, knowing that you need to get ready. You do your makeup first, throwing on your usual day-to-day look. You straighten your hair, hoping that it will cover some of the sunkenness of your cheeks. You walk into the closet, staring at the clothes. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You shake your head, pulling on your black jeans and one of Billie’s oversized hoodies. You pull on your black Converse, tying them tightly. You slip on your rings and bracelets, fidgeting with them until they’re all in the right places. You grab your bag, taking a deep breath before you walk out the door to your car.

You climb into your car, shutting the door behind you. You buckle yourself up, trying to ignore the gnawing in your stomach. Your anxiety is through the roof and you’re doing your best to ignore it. You plug your phone in, turning on Sabrina Carpenter’s album, Short ‘n Sweet. The familiar songs comfort you but it doesn’t make the anxiety dissipate. As you sit at almost every red light in town, you can’t help but fidget with your hands. It was a nervous tic you picked up when you were a kid and it just never went away. Billie would always scold you for it, telling you that your hands were too pretty to be picked at. The dread in your stomach kept growing as you got closer to the venue and your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

You pulled up to the venue, your stomach churning. You handed the security guard your ID and in exchange received your All Access badge. You parked your car next to Billie’s, the feeling of finality in the air. You knew she would notice. There was no way for you to hide this anymore. You feel tears well up in your eyes and you quickly wipe them away with the sleeve of Billie’s hoodie. You take a deep breath, grabbing your bag and getting out of the car. You shut the door behind you, locking it as well. You hear screaming above you. You look up, seeing a bunch of Billie’s fans pointing and taking pictures. You put a fake smile on your face, waving to some of them and practically running inside. By the time you’re indoors, your phone is blowing up. Pictures of you heading into the venue are flying across social media and some are pointing out your dramatic weight loss. You said a silent prayer that Billie hadn’t seen anything yet.

You head down the long concrete hall, fidgeting with your hands and taking deep breaths. You spot Maggie outside of Billie’s dressing room. She sends you a wave and you smile, practically running into her arms.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Maggie says, holding you tightly.

“Hi, Maggie,” you sigh, feeling comforted by her familiar arms. You already know that she can feel how small you are, but she doesn’t bring it up.

She pulls away, holding you by your shoulders. “Did you get here okay?”

You nod. “Yeah it was fine. Traffic wasn’t too bad.”

Maggie smiles, “Well I won’t keep you out here. She’s been practically climbing the walls all day waiting for you to get here.”

“Seriously?” You laugh.

Maggie nods, opening the door for you.

Billie’s dressing room is large and she has music playing. She’s doing her makeup, not hearing the door open. You smile, your eyes welling up with tears. You haven’t seen her in months and you missed her so much. But you were so scared that she was going to freak out when she saw you. You sneak up next to her, thankful that she doesn’t notice you. You tap her lightly on the shoulder, your hands covered by the sleeve of her hoodie. She jumps, confused as to who’s touching her. She looks up, seeing you. She lets out a scream, pulling you down on to her lap and holding you close. You bury your face in her neck, a few tears escaping your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re here, baby. I’ve missed you so fucking much,” Billie mumbles, her arms not letting go of you.

“I missed you too,” you sniffle. You feel Billie tense up under you, and you curse to yourself.

Billie pulls away, looking at you. Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. Your hands are shaking as she cups your face in her hands, observing you. She stares at your sunken cheeks. She slides her hands down your sides, feeling your ribs poke her as she touches you. She looks up at you, her eyes wide. “Baby.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “What?”

“What the hell happened to you?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

It’s no use trying to deny it. She can see you and feel you. You shake your head, trying to ignore her questioning.

“You cannot lie to me right now,” she says, her tone harsh.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes.

Billie pulls you close, holding you tightly. “Baby, what happened? I need you to talk to me.”

Her gentle words cause the dam to burst. You bury your face in her chest, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Billie. But they’re just so fucking mean to me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I know I’m not enough for you and that I’m nothing compared to you. But they pick me apart in every way that they can and it hurts. I thought that if I just stopped eating it would change but it won’t. They just won’t stop.”

“Baby, you need to slow down. Who’s hurting you?” Billie asks, stroking your hair.

You don’t say anything, just pulling out your phone and opening Twitter. She scrolls through the countless tweets, her eyes filling with anger. You wipe away your tears, fidgeting with your hands. After a few minutes, Billie sighs, shutting your phone off and putting it on the table.

“Baby, I need you to look at me,” Billie says, pulling your hands into hers. “They’re wrong. They’re just jealous that I would never pick them. You’re my everything. You’re perfect to me. You do not need to change anything about yourself for me. I want you just the way you are.”

You sniffle, trying to keep yourself calm. Her words break your heart. Your hands shake in hers. “Billie, I’m sorry. I should have just talked to you. But I didn’t want to burden you with this. I thought I could handle it.”

Billie shakes her head, pulling you close again. “You don’t need to apologize. But you’re right, you should have just talked to me. I love you so much and I don’t want anything about you to change because of what some nobody says.”

You nod, fidgeting with your hands again. Billie pulls your hands away, holding them tightly. Your stomach rumbles and you both can’t help but laugh. Billie shakes her head, holding you closely. Maggie knocks on the door, opening it slowly.

“Mom, we’re both clothed, you can come in,” Billie laughs.

Maggie rolls her eyes, opening the door fully. “I’m going to run and get some food. Do you girls want anything?”

You look down at Billie, a small glint of fear in your eyes. “Actually, yes. Can you get us some Caesar Salad Wraps?” Billie asks, running her thumb across the top of your hand.

“You got it. I’ll be back in a little bit,” Maggie says, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey. I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right here with you. You can take it slow, okay?” Billie says, holding your hand in hers.

You nod, taking a deep breath. Billie smiles up at you. She cups your face in her hands, brushing her thumb against your cheek. Your eyes flick between her lips and her eyes, causing Billie to laugh. She shakes her head, slowly leaning in and pressing her lips against yours. You let out a soft sigh, relaxing into her kiss. You feel Billie smile against your lips, causing you to giggle.

After a little while, Maggie comes back with food. You and Billie share a glance as she places a wrap down in front of you. Billie gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and you take a bite. It’s the first real meal you’ve had in months, and you let out a soft sigh as you chew. You eat slowly, making sure you don’t make yourself sick. Slowly but surely, you eat the entire wrap, earning a proud smile from Billie. Time flies by quickly, and soon enough you’re helping Billie rush to finish her makeup. She presses a final kiss to your lips, smiling. “I’ll see you after the show, okay?”

You smile, nodding. You follow Maggie out into the pit, standing in the back. You smile while you watch Billie perform, knowing she’s going harder for you. She steals glances at you during every song, making some fans look over at you and whisper. You shake your head, finally ignoring their words and comments about you. You and Maggie sing along, watching Billie throughout the entire night. Every time Billie looks over at you, you’re smiling. She’s so happy to see that you’re so happy and carefree.

After the show, you drive home with Billie, letting Maggie take your car. Billie drives, holding your hand the entire time. She rubs her thumb along your skin, sending shivers down your spine. When you finally arrive at the house, Billie flops down on the bed, causing you to giggle. You curl up next to her, relaxing into her embrace.

Billie looks down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.”

You smile, looking up at her. “I love you too.”

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏*

Pairing: Chan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Fluff/Smut (Short Oneshot)

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, mentions of getting pregnant, Oral (Both), mostly just a fluffy story with fluffy sex lol. Sorry for any mistakes or missed tags

Find The Request(s) Here

-🖤

You loved going on tour with your boyfriend getting to spend time with him and seeing all the different places. Getting to see him perform and everything it was just so exciting. Yesterday you landed in Australia which Chan was ecstatic to show you around. He brought you to see his parents which you’d already met a few times. His dad made some dinner while everyone talked and had a good time.

“Babe wanna go see my favorite spot?” He asked with a smile.

“Of course” you said smiling back.

As everyone finished dinner Chan asked if you were ready. He drove you to a beautiful spot, it was lit by the moon light. The ocean crashing against the shore, the sky just as stunning. Chan interlocked your fingers as you sat on a small bench just staring out into the vastness of the ocean. He kissed you lovingly, you couldnt help but notice him staring at you. He had a habit of this, just taking in your beauty. He studied your face memorizing every little inch like he would forget it if he looked away.

“I don’t know what’s more beautiful, you or the ocean” he said with a fond smile.

“I can’t compete with the beauty of your first love” you say with a teasing sigh.

He couldn’t help but chuckle kissing your cheek “you both are my loves” he teased.

You both sat there contently in silence enjoying the sounds of the waves and small birds still chirping. “Can I ask you something?” He said softly.

“Of course silly” you said smiling.

“You love me right?” He said.

You were taken back a small bit but chuckled “yeah most days” you teased.

He let out breath before kissing you lovingly. His hands came up to cup your cheek, he looked into your eyes. You could see how much he loved you. How his eyes almost formed hearts as he stared into yours.

“I have another question for you then” he said voice stuttering a bit.

You tilted your head looking at him “and what’s that?”

“Well first you gotta close your eyes.” He said with a nervous smile.

He could feel his heart racing, his hands were getting clammy. He knew you wouldn’t say no however he still was a bit nervous. He wanted everything to be perfect, he wanted it to be special. He got up getting down on his knee In front of you. He pulled the ring out, Funny enough it was a ring you picked out before. You had joked about how if he was ever gonna propose this was the ring. He saved it. That was almost 2 years ago and he still remembered.

“O-ok open” he said. As he watched your eyes open going wide as you realized what was happening.

“My beautiful, my love. Will you- will you make me the happiest man alive by being my wife? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Growing old together.” He said his words coming out fast.

“Chan” you started to sob happy tears of course. You flung yourself on him wrapping your arms around him. “Yes, yes a million times yes. I wanna be with you till we are old and grey yelling at kids to get off our lawn” you giggled through your tears.

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into him trying not to cry himself. A few small tears falling despite his best efforts. When he pulled away he cupped your face whipping the tears from your cheek. “Y/n I love you with every fiber of my being.” He said kissing you passionately. “May I put the ring on?” He asked pulling away.

“Oh yeah!” You said making you both chuckle.

He slipped the ring on kissing you once more.

“Christopher! No fucking way!” You almost screamed. “You remembered the ring?” You said not being able to believe your eyes.

“Of course I remembered silly” he said.

He sat back down beside you, wrapping his arm around your side. He pulled you into him, into a warm cuddle. You both sat there for a few hours just talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

When you got back home his mom was smiling ear to ear. “I assume it went well” she said before pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m so happy he has you” she said. Here came to tears again.

All the boys who had been outside came in smiling at you. They all looked so happy. “Wait y/n you said yes? Really? To this old man?” Seungmin teased.

“Yep, my old man” you said making him roll his eyes.

The next morning the boys were off to the concert, it went flawless as always. Chan had a special glow to him though. He just couldn’t stop smiling. Before ending the show for the night Chan stood there that smile still plastered to his face “Stay!” He yelled out. “I proposed to y/n!” He yelled louder. The whole crowed erupted. Quickly it became trending on twitter and everywhere else. Surprisingly everyone was supportive, everyone was excited to see your wedding. They were all happy to just see bangchan so happy.

——

The wedding planning started right away. You both brain stormed wanting to make sure it was both of you combining ideas. Although things had gotten stressful at points you had so many people that helped and supported you.

When the day had come it went so perfectly. Only small hiccups like almost falling over when you got into the dress. Which honestly made you and everyone else just laugh. Another hiccup that was also funny was Felix coming into your room to help with something and almost seeing you in your tits. He freaked out so much he ran into the wall. Not once. But 3 times before leaving the room. He couldn’t help but laugh, like you were hysterically laughing.

When the time came to walk down the aisle though as soon as you both saw each other neither of you could stop the tears. You both were crying, his mom was crying, a few of the boys and brides maids were crying. It was just a stream of tears. And it only got worse when you exchanged vows. Chans being so beautiful written of course.

Driving off after to head to the hall after for the party you were excited. Chan and you having a small make out session in the car. When you got there Chan had you sit down because he had something planned. You sat there as you watched all the boys come out and get into position. This mother fucker, wrote a whole song for you, got them to choreograph a small dance and had planned this out for months. The song was heartwarming and the small dance was just perfect. Just as it ended all the boys rushed you giving you a big group hug.

Chan and you both danced swaying back and forth as he kept repeating how beautiful you were. “Y/n you really look stunning, god I can’t believe we’re married. I can’t believe you said yes” he said making you laugh.

“Babe, I said yes how long ago” you teased.

“I know but I just- I’m just so fucking happy” he said kissing you lovingly.

You could hear the fake gags coming from a member or two making you laugh. “I’m really married to a man with 7 children aren’t I” you said.

He was laughing now “yeah sorry about that” he said.

The night went by watching as the boys, your family and friends all just having fun. You couldn’t help but laugh while you watched the boys twerking. Minho came up beside you chuckling as he watched them “you really married into this” he said.

“Yep I sure did” you said.

“You can still back out” he joked.

“I’ve already been stuck with you guys for how many years. What’s the rest of my life?” You said smiling fondly.

“True, I guess the boys do need a mother” he joked.

“Yeah gonna ground them all for twerking so badly” you both chuckled.

It was time to throw the bouquet, when you did Hannah, Chans sister was the one who caught it. The person who caught the garter was Hyunjin. If you know anything about weddings the person who catches the garter is supposed to put it on the leg of the person who caught the flowers. However Chan looked like he’d kill him if he did.

Hyunjin walked over placing it on Hannah arm like a bracelet. “Don’t wanna die tonight” he said loudly as he did Making everyone laugh.

As the night wounded down and everyone left Chan and you headed back to the house. You were excited for morning though, Chan had booked a honeymoon and wouldn’t tell you where it was. You were leaving in the morning bags already packed. Chan cuddled up to you all night both super tired from everything.

——

When you landed you were greeted by beautiful scenery, a vast blue ocean the looked like it never ended. The place he had booked had the perfect view, there was a huge jacuzzi tub and roses all over the bed. It was stunning it smelled like citrus and candy. As you plopped your bags down and also plopped yourself down on the bed. Stretching out after being cooped up in the plane for so long. The bed was comfortable, honestly felt like a cloud.

Chan smiled looking at you before climbing on top of you. He nuzzled his face into your neck making you giggle. Hearing you giggle he started tickling you, you busted out laughing squirming under him. You could feel him smiling against your skin. “My beautiful wife” he said as he pulled away. He looked down at you with love in his eyes, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

His hand cupped your face as he depended the kiss, tongue poking at your lips. You happily parted them as your tongues battled for dominance. His other hand roamed downwards, playing with your breast. He played with your nipples rolling them in his fingers pinching them ever so slightly. A soft moan was swallowed by him before you knew it he had your shirt off. Sucking gently at your skin leaving pretty purply red marks all over it.

He kissed down your body before swiftly pulling the rest of your clothes off. You gasped at the fast motion only to be met with his lips against your thigh. He kissed his way down them, kissing around your core before diving head first. His soft plump lips attached to your nub, nibbling it ever so perfectly. He licked a long stip up and down your folds before pushing his tongue into you. His hands gripped at your thighs holding them apart as his tongue fucked you. His pretty nose brushing against your nub every so often.

You were squirming, moaning loudly hands interlocking into his hair. You gripped it tightly making him groan into you. He loved when you pulled his hair especially while eating you out. “Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He moaned out. Before you could even respond though he was pushing his fingers into you. Pumping them fast as he curled them. His lips started to suck harshly at you clit all the while keeping eye contact with you.

“Ch-Chan fuck- please- don’t stop!” You moaned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” he said with a smirk.

His fingers were moving perfectly and his tongue working overtime. What drove you over the edge was a slight bite he left to your clit. Your body ached off the bed orgasm crashing over you. Chan road out your high pulling away with a long string of salvia. His lips were wet from salvia and your juice.

He fumbled to get his pants off, too pussy drunk to think straight. “Let me help you” you said breathily undoing his belt before pulling them down. His cock springing out, he was so unbelievably hard it almost looked painful. You couldn’t help but wrap your lips around it taking him slowly into your mouth. You were quite literally drooling over him. You took him back your throat the whole way as you started to bob your head. His head thrown back as you did he moved your hair from your face. Looking down at you he couldn’t help but moan the sight making him wanna cum.

“F-fuck baby- s’good” he said.

He let you go at your own pace watching you take him all in. “That’s it baby- fuck just like that. M’good girl. My pretty wifey” he mumbles out. As you swirled your tongue around the tip he almost gasped. “Shit- wait” he said pulling out from your mouth. You looked up at him a little confused “sorry love- i wanna cum in that pretty little cunt of yours” he said with a groan.

“Come here” he said pulling you up lips crashing into yours, he moved you back laying you down on the bed. He aligned himself to your core before pushing into you fully. Both of you letting out a heavenly moan at the feeling. Chan gripped your hips as he moved in and out of you. His cock filled you so perfectly his head hitting the your cervix. He pulled away from the kiss moving to look down at you. “My beautiful wife, fuck taking me so good” he groaned.

You felt his cock already twitching inside you, he wasn’t gonna last long at this rate but neither were you. “S’good- always feel so good-“ you moaned out.

Chan watched as his cock reappeared and disappeared inside of you. Your walls were clenching around him, sucking him into you. “Made for me, for me only my pretty wife. Gonna- fuck- gonna cum so deep in you you’ll get pregnant” he mumbled out. “Gonna fuck a baby into yeah? Fuck gonna be my pretty pregnant wife- shit” his movements were turning sloppy. Hands slinking up to yours. He interlocked your fingers together as he fucked into you. “Y/n I love you fuck I love you so much” he moaned.

You gripped his hands tightly feeling your high about to wash over you. Chans head rested in the crook of your neck moaning into your ear as he sucked/bit at your neck. “Chan! I love you to! My- my handsome husband!” You almost screamed your orgasm crashing over you. As he heard those words fall from your lips you calling him your husband his mind just short circuited. His body stuttered on top of you as he pushed one last time cumming deep inside of you.

He let go of your hands wrapping his arms around you holding you tightly to him as your highs washed over you both. Panting Chan pulled away to look at you “y/n I love you, I love you I love you I love you” he repeated.

“I love you to my handsome husband” you said smiling. He kissed you lovingly before slowly pulling away.

“Wanna get in the big tub together?” He asked smiling.

“Is that even a question” you teased.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[minyoongisnewthing]

Han river lullaby chapter seven | myg

Chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exs to lovers, eventual smut, idol!au, co parents, second chance romance

Chapter warnings: Blonde Yoongi being a menace in a flash back you have been warned, mild sexual content NSFW.

Word count: 9.7 approximately

Authors notes: I am sorry in advance for the long chapter but yoongi being a menace to society and MCs heart just possessed me I’m also trying something new with how I’m formatting these chapters as i get more used to tumblr so please feel free to let me know what you think about it in the comments and ill adjust the past chapters to be the same flashbacks will be in italics and let me know what you think of this chapter in the comments!

The morning of your departure for Daegu dawned clear and bright, but your stomach was a knotted mess of nerves.

While Han buzzed with uncontainable excitement, darting around the apartment like a tiny tornado, you were fighting the urge to unpack everything you’d just packed. Twice.

“Is that Appa?” Han asked for what had to be the tenth time, standing on tiptoes to peer out through the slats of the blinds as another car passed by.

“Not yet, bub,” you said gently, watching as Han spun on his heel and wheeled his little red Lightning McQueen suitcase in a quick circle before parking it by the front door again like a little guard.

You’d dressed him in a soft cotton hoodie, jeans and his favorite black sneakers, his curls neatly combed for all of three seconds before his fingers had ruffled them again. His cheeks were already flushed with excitement.

The sound of tires on gravel made Han jump, eyes wide as he whipped around to look at you. “That’s him! Right?!”

You didn’t have time to answer before he was yanking open the door and bounding onto the front step, his whole face lighting up.

“Appa!” he yelled, the word high and bright in the morning air. “I packed all by myself!”

Yoongi stepped out of the car wearing a bomber jacket over a white shirt with jeans and a black beanie, his smile blooming the second he saw Han. He walked up the path as Han rushed to meet him, crouching down with open arms.

“You did?” Yoongi said, glancing at the tiny suitcase with dramatic curiosity.

Han nodded enthusiastically, puffing out his chest. “I even remembered my toothbrush.”

Yoongi laughed, eyes flicking up to you as you hovered in the doorway. You offered a small smile, but your hands were tight on your own suitcase handle.

As Yoongi stood and hoisted Han’s bag into the trunk, he called over his shoulder, teasing, “What about Eomma? Is she ready?”

“Barely,” you muttered, dragging your suitcase toward the car. You’d redone your eyeliner twice and still felt like a mess. Your heart had been pounding since you’d woken up, and the closer you got to leaving, the worse it got. It wasn’t the drive. It wasn’t even seeing Yoongi’s childhood home again.

It was everything else—the unspoken weight of history, the unknown reception, the what-ifs.

Once Han was strapped into his car seat, happily flipping through a picture book, Yoongi rounded the car and came to stand beside you. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his voice pitched low so only you could hear.

“Breathe,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to shit your pants.”

Your eyes flew open wide as a startled laugh burst from you. “Oh my God,” you groaned, swatting his arm. “You have such a way with words.”

Yoongi grinned unrepentantly. “What can I say? Poetry is in my blood.”

He was quiet for a moment, then his smile softened. His fingers brushed briefly, casually, against your elbow—an anchor more than a touch.

“Seriously,” he said, voice gentle now. “It’ll be okay.”

You searched his eyes. There wasn’t a trace of uncertainty in them. No teasing, no tension. Just quiet, steady confidence. That easy calm that always made him feel unshakable, even when you were both falling apart.

The knot in your chest loosened just a little.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Yoongi opened the passenger door for you with a flourish, and you rolled your eyes as you slid in. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered.

“I know,” he replied as he closed the door. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

From the back seat, Han leaned forward as far as his seatbelt would let him. “Are we going now?”

Yoongi climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to glance at him through the mirror. “Sure are, are you ready?”

“Yay!!” Han squealed, kicking his feet happily.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you looked out the window and tried to quiet the rapid thrum of nerves still fluttering in your chest.

You weren’t sure what the next few days would bring. But as Yoongi’s fingers reached over and brushed lightly against yours on the center console—just once, just enough to let you know he was there—you found yourself thinking he was right, it would be okay.

The four-hour drive to Daegu was filled with bursts of laughter, the hum of Hans playlist on repeat, and a steady stream of questions from the back seat—most of which began with “Appa, what’s…”

Yoongi fielded each one patiently, one hand on the steering wheel, the other occasionally tapping to the beat of the music or reaching out to adjust the mirror so he could better see Han’s face.

At one point, during a lull between songs and snacks, Han leaned forward as far as his car seat would allow, wide-eyed and curious.

“Appa, what’s Halmeoni like?”

Yoongi’s mouth quirked into a fond smile as he glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. “She’s kind,” he said, his voice warming with memory. “She likes to pretend she’s strict, but she always sneaks me extra food whenever I visit. Even when I say I’m not hungry.”

Han gasped like this was the greatest revelation in the world. “Extra food?”

Yoongi nodded solemnly, clearly playing along. “The best kind. Kimchi jjigae, galbi, japchae—she’s a really good cook.”

From the passenger seat, you smiled to yourself. The tension that had wound itself tightly around your chest that morning had started to loosen, bit by bit. Maybe it was the rhythm of the road, or the way Han’s joy smoothed the edges of your nerves. Or maybe it was Yoongi—unfazed, present, and so effortlessly at ease in this moment.

“What about Harabeoji?” Han asked, his voice softer now.

Yoongi hummed. “He’s quieter. A little gruff. But he’s funny when he wants to be. He tells great stories—long ones, the kind that make you laugh till your cheeks hurt.”

Han nodded slowly, absorbing every word. Then, after a pause, he asked, “Do you think they’ll… like me?”

Your heart clenched at the uncertainty in his voice, the way it wavered just enough to show the vulnerability he rarely let peek through. Before you could turn to reassure him, Yoongi answered without hesitation.

“They’re going to love you, Han,” he said, glancing at his son through the mirror, his tone calm and sure. “You’re their grandson. Their grandbaby boy.”

Han beamed, tension melting from his face as quickly as it had come. “Okay,” he said, satisfied, and launched into another round of questions about the rest of the family: aunts, cousins, dogs.

You watched them as they talked—Yoongi answering every question, no matter how bizarre or specific, with a kind of quiet affection that pulled at something deep in your chest. It had always been one of his strongest qualities: the way he made people feel heard. Known.

This trip wasn’t just about Han meeting Yoongi’s parents. Maybe it was the start of something else. A slow reckoning. A quiet invitation to return, not just to Daegu, but to something you hadn’t let yourself believe in for a long time—a future. A family. This family.

For the first time since Yoongi had asked you to come, you found yourself believing, just a little, that everything might actually be okay.

——————————————————————————————————

Pulling into the once familiar neighborhood felt like stepping back into a photograph—warm with memory and slightly blurred with time. The houses were close-knit, tucked into quiet streets lined with trees just beginning to bud. Yoongi’s childhood home stood nestled at the end of the block, modest but lovingly kept, with a front gate you remembered creaking on its hinges from years ago and the same potted plants his mother had always tended with care.

You barely had time to take it in before Yoongi turned off the engine and opened his door. He was in motion instantly, efficient and focused—unbuckling Han, lifting him out of the car with ease, and smoothing down his tousled hair as he set him on the ground.

“Alright, buddy,” he murmured, crouching beside him. “Remember, Halmeoni and Harabeoji are really excited to meet you. Don’t worry, they’re gonna love you.”

But Han didn’t move. His small fingers wrapped tightly around the fabric of Yoongi’s jeans, eyes wide as he stared up at the front door like it was something both magical and terrifying.

You stepped out more slowly, nerves crawling back up your spine as the door creaked open.

Yoongi’s parents stood there, framed in the doorway. His mother’s eyes lit up the moment she saw her son and grandson, her face breaking into a smile so warm it nearly melted you. His father stood beside her, more reserved, arms crossed, his expression unreadable—but there was no mistaking the curiosity in his gaze.

You paused, instinctively hanging back, letting Yoongi take the lead. This was his moment—with Han, with the parents he hadn’t seen in far too long.

Yoongi straightened and gently guided Han forward, one hand resting protectively on his back.

“Eomma, Appa,” he said, his voice calm but grounded with meaning. “This is Han.”

For a second, silence stretched between them. Then his mother let out a soft, delighted laugh and stepped forward, crouching down to Han’s eye level.

“Oh, my,” she breathed, eyes glimmering. “Just like his appa.”

You blinked, momentarily confused—until she added, “When Yoongi was little, he did the same thing. Always hiding behind his father, or clinging to me like a little koala when we had visitors.”

Yoongi scoffed and looked away, cheeks faintly pink. “Eomma… hajima.”

But it worked. Han peeked out from behind his father’s leg, cautiously studying the woman in front of him.

“You look just like your appa,” she said gently, “but I bet you have your eomma’s heart.”

And with that, something unspooled. Han let go of Yoongi’s leg, inching forward, the suspicion in his eyes giving way to wonder.

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head.

She nodded. “Really.”

She extended her hand, and after a small pause, Han reached for it. His tiny fingers curled into hers, and her face lit up as though she’d just been handed the entire world.

“Come say hello, dear,” she called over her shoulder.

Yoongi’s father finally stepped forward. His steps were slower, measured. He crouched slightly, meeting Han’s gaze.

“I see your arms healed well, Han,” he said, voice deep and gentle.

Han blinked, then nodded. “Yes. I did my exercises.”

His grandfather offered the faintest smile. “Good. Strong boy.”

Han turned instinctively toward Yoongi, who gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Yoongi’s mother stood, brushing a hand across her cheek as she looked between her son and grandson like she could hardly believe it was real.

Then her gaze flicked to you.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” she said, her expression unreadable—gentle, but cautious.

Your heart jumped in your throat. You forced a smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”

There was a beat of silence. Not cold, just… suspended. And then she nodded once and stepped aside.

“Come in, all of you. You must be tired.”

As you stepped into the house—crossing a threshold that held so much memory—you released the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This wasn’t just about introductions.

It was about all of you—testing the waters, feeling the shape of something unspoken, trying to see if it could be rebuilt. Not perfectly. Not exactly the same, but stronger this time.

After lunch, the house had quieted. You tucked Han in for a nap in Yoongi’s old room, the blanket pulled gently up to his chest. His breaths had evened out, lashes soft against his cheeks, and his tiny hand clutched the frayed ear of his stuffed bunny. You ran your fingers lightly through his hair, the way he liked, and felt the familiar warmth swell in your chest.

The room smelled faintly of cedar and mint. You glanced around, the nostalgia settling into your bones. The walls were still lined with posters—mostly basketball players Yoongi admired, one or two of old hip-hop legends—and a cracked sticker of the Daegu Samsung Thunders still clung to the corner of the closet door. On the shelf above the desk sat a neat row of trophies: a silver one for a piano recital, a gold one for a middle school writing competition, a small but proud bronze for reading the most books in his class one year.

You smiled, the memory surfacing like it had only just happened.

“Wait, wait, this one? For reading?” you teased eyebrow raised, an affectionate smile tugging at your lips , pointing at the smallest trophy.

Yoongi had scowled, pulling it out of your reach. “Yeah, and I earned it, thank you very much.”

You’d laughed, leaning against the doorframe of his room. “You nerd.”

“Says the woman who voluntarily did two extra classes at med school, to qualify for even more school in a foreign country.” he’d shot back, rolling his eyes, but grinning all the same.

The sound of Han’s soft breathing pulled you back to the present.

“Sleep well, baby,” you whispered, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

As you closed the door behind you, the comfort of the moment gave way to nerves. You hadn’t seen Yoongi’s mother in so long. You didn’t know what she thought of you anymore—especially after everything. She’d welcomed Han like he belonged, but you weren’t sure that same warmth extended to you.

You didn’t get far before nearly running into her in the hallway.

“Y/N,” she said calmly, her tone unreadable.

You straightened instinctively. “Oh—sorry, I was just—”

She studied you, her expression steady, neither cold nor fully warm. There was something in her eyes—searching, weighing.

“I understand the courage it took for you to come here,” she said.

You blinked, caught off guard. You hadn’t expected… grace.

“I—” You swallowed. “I didn’t come to stir anything up. I just… Han deserves to know this side of his family. And Yoongi…said”

She raised a hand gently, stopping your ramble. “I know my son,” she said softly. “I know how deeply he feels—even when he doesn’t show it. When you left each other, it broke something in him.”

A small familiar wave of guilt rose up and settled in your chest like stone.

“I never meant to hurt him,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Least of all like that.”

She nodded slowly, like she’d been waiting to hear you say that. “I believe you.”

The simplicity of it hit you harder than you expected.

“And knowing him,” she continued, voice softer now. “If he asked you here, if he let you back in—even a little—it means he still sees something worth holding on to.” She paused. “Do you?”

The question made you still. You didn’t have to think about it. Of course you did.

But before you could say it aloud, a familiar voice called from the other room.

“Eomma, where’s Y/N?”

Yoongi.

She gave you a look that said she already knew the answer anyway and stepped aside. “Go on.”

You nodded and made your way toward the stairs, her words still echoing in your head.

Do you?

Yes. You did. With your whole heart.

You found Yoongi at the bottom of the stairs, looking up as you approached. His eyes softened when they landed on you, like the sight of you anchored him.

“Han’s asleep,” you said quietly.

He nodded and reached for your hand without hesitation. “Come outside for a minute.”

You followed him through the back door into the yard. The air was cool, dusk painting everything in soft lavender and amber tones. The yard wasn’t big, but it had character—patches of worn grass, a crooked stepping stone path, and the wooden swing swaying gently in the breeze. You could almost imagine a younger Yoongi sitting on it, earbuds in, head down, dreaming of lyrics he didn’t yet know would change his life.

“I used to sit there for hours,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Just listening to music. Writing. Trying to figure out how to get out of here without losing myself.”

You squeezed his hand. “You didn’t lose yourself.”

Yoongi gave a small smile. “Some days I wonder if I almost did.”

A moment of quiet stretched between you, filled only by the rustle of wind through the trees and the distant bark of a neighbor’s dog.

Then he turned to you more fully, his hand still warm in yours. “Thank you. For coming here. I know it’s… not easy.”

You let out a breath, huffing a small laugh. “I’m absolutely terrified of your mom, I won’t lie?”

That earned a full chuckle from him. “She likes you more than you think.”

You raised a brow. “Are you sure?”

“She used the good cups when she made coffee earlier. That’s her version of rolling out a red carpet.”

You laughed, the tension easing from your shoulders.

Then, his expression shifted, softening. He reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I’ve been thinking… a lot. About this. About us.”

Your breath caught, the air suddenly thick between you.

“I really want to try again,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “If you do. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t matter when Han leaves with you. I’m tired of pretending I don’t still love you.”

Your chest tightened.

He exhaled shakily. “I know we can’t erase what happened. And I know we’ve both changed. But I don’t want to keep living like it’s too late.”

Your hand found his, cradling it against your face. Your voice came out thick, trembling with everything you hadn’t let yourself feel for so long.

“I want to try too,” you whispered. “I never stopped wanting to, never stopped loving you”

A breath passed between you both—like the moment before a wave crashes—and then he leaned in. Forehead to forehead, his nose brushing yours, breath mingling.

“Good,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow—tender—filled with all the things you hadn’t said and the ones you couldn’t bear to lose. His fingers slipped into your hair as his lips moved over yours, steady and reverent. You kissed him back with your whole heart, your hands gripping the front of his jacket like it could tether you to this moment forever.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes lingered on each other. His lips were pink, and cheeks flushed, and his thumb still caressed your jaw.

“Guess we’re really doing this,” you murmured, breathless.

Yoongi smiled, eyes soft. “Yeah. We are.”

And this time, neither of you would let go.

——————————————————————————————————

As night settled over the house, the backyard glowed in the soft flicker of firelight. The small stone pit crackled with orange embers, casting gentle shadows that danced across the faces gathered around it. The scent of burning wood drifted lazily on the crisp breeze. It was the kind of night that wrapped itself around you. Lazy, quiet, sacred, and unspoken.

Han sat cross-legged on the blanket beside his grandfather, his cheeks pink from the cold and excitement, clutching his beloved bunny in one arm and holding up a bright red toy car in the other.

“This one is Lightning McQueen, Harabeoji,” he said, turning the car so the decals caught the light. “He’s super fast. Like, zoom zoom!” He demonstrated driving through the air.

Yoongi’s father leaned forward, eyes twinkling as he inspected the car with a mock-serious nod. “Ah… super fast, huh? Faster than Appa?”

He cast a teasing glance at Yoongi, who lounged beside you on the porch steps, one arm casually resting behind your back. Yoongi’s smirk was instant, boyish and knowing.

“Depends,” he drawled. “Is Lightning carrying a toddler and two bags of groceries?”

That earned a laugh from Yoongi’s older brother, who leaned against the fence sipping from a warm mug. “What motionless Min here means,” he said, gesturing at Yoongi, “is no, he’s not faster. I’ve seen your Appa trying to race a bedtime routine. No chance Han, my man, no chance.”

Han giggled so hard he nearly toppled over, clutching Bunny to his chest. “No one is faster than Appa,” he declared with great pride, the kind of reverent certainty only a child could have.

Your heart clenched at the sight—Yoongi’s soft smile as he looked at his son, the way Han beamed with affection so natural and pure. Moments like this—quiet and ordinary—felt like something rare and precious.

As the evening wore on, Han’s boundless energy began to dim. His eyelids grew heavier, and he started leaning sideways, his small frame tipping gently against Yoongi’s arm. Without hesitation, Yoongi adjusted, pulling him closer into his lap with practiced ease.

“Appa…” Han mumbled, voice syrupy and low, “I’m tired.”

Yoongi bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his son’s head. “Okay, bubba. Time for bed. Go give Eomma a kiss goodnight.”

Han stirred, blinking slowly before shuffling over to you on socked feet. He pressed a warm, sticky kiss to your cheek and wrapped his arms loosely around your neck.

“Goodnight, Eomma,” he whispered against your skin, bunny dangling from one hand.

You kissed his temple, lingering a moment as your fingers brushed through his hair. “Goodnight, my baby boy. Sweet dreams.”

He gave you a sleepy smile—barely there, more warmth than motion—then turned and reached for Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Yoongi rose with him in his arms, murmuring something soft as he carried Han inside.

Silence settled around the fire again, broken only by the soothing crackle of burning wood. The stars above had emerged fully now, glittering faintly beyond the reach of city light.

You glanced over and caught the look on Yoongi’s father’s face. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the retreating silhouettes of his son and grandson. There was pride there, but also a shimmer of something deeper—something almost disbelieving.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he said at last, voice quiet with emotion. “My baby boy… with a baby boy of his own.”

You smiled gently, watching the screen door swing shut behind Yoongi. “He’s a good father,” you murmured. “Han adores him.”

“He’s better than I was,” the older man said softly. “I can admit that now.”

At that, Yoongi’s mother reached over and gave his knee a firm squeeze. “You did your best,” she said firmly. “And you raised a son who does the same. That’s what matters.”

Your eyes stung unexpectedly. You blinked up at the night sky, letting the silence hold your gratitude.

A few moments passed before she turned her gaze to you. “He still looks at you the same way he used to, you know,” she said quietly. “But, like he’s not afraid of what might happen anymore. Like he’s… choosing something for himself.”

You didn’t know what to say to that—how to explain that your heart had never stopped choosing him, even in the silence, even in the years apart. That coming here had terrified you. That seeing Han this loved, this accepted, had undone something in you.

“I would choose him, everytime,” you finally said, voice thick. “The way he deserves.” 

She gave a slow nod with a smile

——————————————————————————————————

The next morning bloomed with quiet excitement. The house stirred gently awake, voices filtered through from the kitchen—Yoongi’s father humming tunelessly, and his mother calling out instructions with warm authority.

Today, you were going to Otgol Village—an open-air hanok village where Yoongi’s mother had planned a family outing, complete with traditional photos. “Just a few keepsakes,” she’d said, but you knew there was more to it than that. She wanted to capture this here and now, and Who were you to deny her?.

You turned at the sound of footsteps and caught sight of Han running in, already dressed and positively glowing.

“Eomma, look!” he squealed, twirling in his deep blue hanbok. The golden embroidery shimmered like sunlight on water, and the long sleeves flared like wings as he spun in happy, clumsy circles.

You clasped your hands together with a soft gasp. “Han, you look so handsome, my baby boy.”

He stopped spinning and struck a pose, hands on his hips and chin lifted. “More handsome than Appa?” he asked, voice bubbling with mischief and challenge.

You leaned in, lowering your voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t tell him I said so… but definitely.”

Han giggled, a bright, joyous sound that filled the room with warmth.

“Hey,” came a voice from the doorway, low and amused. “I heard that.”

You turned to find Yoongi leaning against the frame, arms folded casually across his chest, a lopsided smirk pulling at his mouth. He looked unfairly good—his hanbok was understated but striking, a cool slate gray layered with navy, a subtle contrast of textures and tradition. The way it fit him made your breath hitch—elegant, dignified, and so him. There was something deeply grounding about seeing him like this, back in his element, with home stitched into his skin.

Han gave a final twirl, clearly showing off for his father before darting past him, probably off to find his grandparents, or uncle.

Yoongi stepped further into the room, his eyes still warm from watching Han. “He’s right,” he said softly. “He does look good.”

“Hey he’s your twin,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

Yoongi’s mouth twitched, but before he could say anything, his mother appeared in the doorway, holding something cradled carefully in her arms.

It was a hanbok—soft peach silk with white and rose-pink accents, the embroidery fine and delicate, a garden stitched in thread across the chest and sleeves. She held it out to you with both hands, her expression was purposeful and left no room for argument.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—I—this is… beautiful. But you should take the photos without me! I’ll just—”

Her hand settled on your arm, gentle but firm. “Nonsense,” she said, eyes kind but resolute. “You’re Han’s mother. Don’t be silly. Come on.”

You followed her wordlessly down the hall, heart fluttering in your chest. She led you into a quiet room where the light slanted in through the blinds, painting soft gold stripes across the floor. It smelled faintly of cedar and old silk. Everything felt hushed, reverent, like stepping into memory.

She helped you dress with the ease of a woman who had done this many times—tying, tucking, wrapping layer upon layer of meaning around your frame. Her touch was graceful and practiced, yet there was something personal in it too—something deeply maternal. You felt the fabric mold to you, not just physically but emotionally, like being enveloped in a legacy.

When she tightened the waistband, she finally spoke.

“I saw you and Yoongi yesterday, on the porch,” she said plainly, her voice like the rustle of wind through a tree-lined path.

You stilled, your heart skipping a beat. Did she mean the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching? The way his hand hovered near yours all afternoon? The laughter you shared while guiding Han through the garden, or the kiss you had both leaned into?

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Worry pricked at you. Was she upset or disappointed? Did she think you were overstepping?

But she didn’t let you spiral.

“That little boy should have a family,” she continued, smoothing the silk over your shoulder. “Han is very lucky.”

A quiet breath escaped you, shaky with relief. She wasn’t scolding you. She was blessing you.

She moved to stand in front of you, her hands stilling on your collar as she looked directly into your eyes.

“Do you know what a mother’s greatest fear is, Y/N?”

You shook your head slowly, breath caught in your throat.

she took a grounding breath and said. “It’s wondering, after we’re gone, if they’ll still have someone who loves them as deeply as we did. Who will carry their heart like we carried it.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver.

You felt your eyes begin to sting. You didn’t mean for the tears to come, but they welled a fraction anyway. “I love your son,” you whispered. “Very much.”

She smiled gently, as if she already knew. “And he loves you,” she said, her voice thick with certainty. “Deeply.”

Your chest tightened, hope blooming in slow, steady pulses. “I hope so. With all my heart.”

She reached for a carved wooden comb, lifting it reverently before gently sliding it into the braid woven into your hair. The gesture was tender, almost ritualistic—like sealing a promise only the two of you would ever understand.

Then, her voice came again, low but strong. “Never forget—you’re a strong woman. A strong mother.”

She met your eyes in the mirror. “I am trusting you, Y/N. With their hearts. To love them fiercely. To protect them when I no longer can.”

A lump swelled in your throat. You blinked against it and nodded. “I will,” you whispered. “I promise.”

She let her hands rest on your shoulders for one long, steady moment, grounding you both.

The silence between you spoke of a shared devotion—two women connected not by blood, but by love for the same two souls: one man and one little boy. The man she had raised. The boy you were raising.

When you finally stepped out of the room, adjusting the sleeves of your hanbok, the soft rustle of silk accompanied each step. The cool fabric hugged your form delicately, the pale peach and pink tones glowing under the morning light that filtered in through the slated windows.

You looked up to find Yoongi standing there, leaning slightly against the wooden frame of the hallway, as if he hadn’t meant to linger—but clearly hadn’t been able to leave. The moment his eyes landed on you, he froze.

His gaze swept over you slowly, reverently, like he was seeing something sacred. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Just a breath—a small, awed exhale.

You raised an eyebrow, biting back the shy smile tugging at your lips. “What?”

Yoongi blinked, like he was waking from a dream, and rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “You look…” he began, but his voice caught. He laughed quietly under his breath, still visibly taken aback. “You look beautiful,” he said finally. “Really. Wow.”

Your heart fluttered, your cheeks warming at the rare glimpse of him so openly enamored.

Before you could tease him or close the space between you, the moment was interrupted by the thunder of little feet.

“Eomma!” Han came barreling into the hallway like a whirlwind, his tiny hands clasped to his cheeks in exaggerated awe. “You look like a princess! A real one!”

You laughed, crouching down to his level and smoothing your hand over his hair, which was slightly mussed from all his excitement. “A princess, huh? That’s high praise.”

Han nodded solemnly, turning to Yoongi with wide eyes full of certainty. “Right, Appa?”

Yoongi, still recovering from the double punch of emotion, looked at you again—this time through Han’s eyes. His expression softened into something even more tender. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now, thick with something deeper. “She really does.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the way he was looking at you—like you weren’t just the mother of his child, but something luminous. Something his heart had never stopped reaching for.

The three of you stood there for a moment, an unspoken warmth weaving between you like a thread.

——————————————————————————————————

The drive to the village was full of gentle energy. Han sat in the back seat between you and Yoongi, humming happily as the scenery changed. The farther you drove from the city, the more the landscape opened up—rolling hills and wide sky giving way to the quaint charm of traditional rooftops and quiet, winding paths.

“Okay, baby,” you said, twisting slightly in your seat to face him. “Remember, we’re going to see lots of beautiful things, but you have to look with your eyes, not your hands.”

Han nodded solemnly, holding up his pinky. “I pinky promise, Eomma. I’ll be really, really good.”

Yoongi reached over with a grin and locked pinkies with him too. “We believe you, little man. Just stay close.”

When you arrived at the village, the cool air smelled of pine, old wood, and roasted barley tea drifting from the small cafe nearby. Han’s eyes grew wide as he took in the sweeping tiled roofs, the stone walls, and the decorative latticed windows. He walked between you and Yoongi, gripping each of your hands tightly, eyes scanning every detail like he was trying to memorize it all.

Yoongi explained the history of hanok houses in his gentle, low voice—the way the wooden beams were joined without nails, the significance of the courtyard layouts, and how the warm floors kept families cozy through the winter.

Han listened with rare silence, his face full of wonder. “People really used to live here?” he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the memories in the walls.

“They did,” Yoongi said, ruffling his son’s hair. “This village is 400 years old”

 Han’s eyes lit up with wonder.

Yoongi’s mother took photo after photo, gently arranging the three of you like a proud director. Han posed like a seasoned pro—chin up, feet apart, hands on his belly like he’d seen in old portraits. He even insisted on taking a photo with just you and Yoongi, pushing you two together with all the might of his tiny hands before dashing into his grandmother’s arms to watch.

You stood beside Yoongi, shoulder to shoulder, the silence between you filled with unspoken things. He looked down at you as the camera clicked, and his fingers brushed lightly against yours—just for a second. Just long enough to make you wonder if he felt the same pull you did.

After the photos, you stopped at the cafe near the entrance. The interior was small and cozy, filled with the scent of soy, sesame oil, and stone-grilled meats. Han devoured his rice and bulgogi, cheeks full, chopsticks clumsily managed but determined.

Returning home, the house was full of laughter and light. The scent of dinner still lingered in the air, mingling with the soft chatter of relatives and the occasional burst of Han’s delighted squeals. You moved through the warm blur of clinking dishes and old stories, smiling and nodding where needed, but something inside you tugged toward quiet.

You slipped away when no one was looking, stepping out the back door and onto the veranda. The night air greeted you like a sigh, crisp and clean, brushing cool fingers over your skin. Overhead, a strand of fairy lights cast a soft, amber glow across the porch—gentle and golden. The stars blinked faintly above, and the trees rustled low in the distance.

A few moments passed before you heard the creak of the door behind you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

Yoongi stepped out, the screen door clicking softly shut behind him. He didn’t say anything at first, just moved to lean against the railing beside you, his shoulder almost brushing yours. He wore a soft charcoal sweater and jeans, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes on the dark sky.

You didn’t need words. His presence was enough.

But after a beat, his voice came—low, a little rough like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Thanks,” he murmured, almost shyly. “For humouring Eomma with everything today.”

You turned your head to look at him, raising a brow. “Don’t go all shy on me now, Min,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Seeing the man who boasts about his tongue technology getting tongue-tied over a girl in a hanbok? That was worth the whole day.”

Yoongi huffed a laugh, his mouth twitching into a grin. “What would the famous D-boy Agust D think?” you added, eyes gleaming.

His laugh broke free then—deep, rich, and real. The sound rumbled through you, warm and familiar, and for a second, you felt like no time had passed at all.

Then he turned toward you slightly, stepping closer. The fairy lights painted his skin in soft gold, and the way he looked at you made your breath catch.

“I’m sure that Agust D would remind you,” he said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, “that he still remembers the way you sound when you beg for that tongue, Y/N.”

The words hit like lightning, arcing down your spine and pooling heat low in your belly. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide, heart suddenly galloping in your chest.

“Yoongi,” you warned, but it came out soft. Weak. Not even remotely convincing.

His smirk deepened, all slow burn and dangerous charm. He leaned in just a little, fingers ghosting over your wrist. “Such a sweet taste, too,” he murmured, each word a tease, laced with memory.

You let out a disbelieving breath, swatting lightly at his chest. “Stop,” you said, but your skin was already tingling, your mind playing traitor with images you thought you’d buried.

His laughter came again, husky and honey-smooth, warm enough to melt bone. Then, without ceremony, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He rested his forehead gently against yours, your noses brushing, breaths mingling in the quiet space between.

“Now who’s tongue-tied?” he whispered, smiling smug satisfaction written all over his face. “You always were so cute when you’re flustered.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but your hands betrayed you—fisting in the soft fabric of his shirt, clinging. You didn’t want to let go. You weren’t sure you could.

His smile softened, that cocky edge giving way to something quieter, more vulnerable. His fingers moved in lazy, slow circles against your lower back, grounding you.

“I missed this,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I did too,” you admitted, the words catching slightly as they left your lips. “So much more than I let myself feel.”

He exhaled, the tension in his body visibly dissolving. Then he pressed a kiss—tender and brief—to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into it, into him, into the weight and warmth of the moment.

And for a beat, it was just the two of you. No past. No future. Just now.

But then—

Tap tap tap tap.

The unmistakable sound of little feet against the wooden floorboards broke the silence.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh, no.”

Yoongi chuckled, already hearing it too.

“Unless you want Han to know now, we should—” you began, moving to step back.

But he didn’t let you.

In one smooth motion, he caught your chin with gentle fingers and tilted your face up. His eyes searched yours—not for permission, but for something deeper. Something you both already knew.

And then he kissed you.

Firm. Sure. No rush, no hesitation. Just truth, pressed warm and steady against your lips.

His kiss told you everything: that he was still here. That this wasn’t just memory. That he wasn’t going to let you go again.

“Eomma! Appa!”

You broke apart just in time.

Han’s little voice rang out, and a second later, he tumbled through the door and onto the veranda, running full-speed into Yoongi’s leg.

Yoongi barely blinked. “Hey, bud,” he said, crouching down smoothly. “What’s up?”

Han blinked up at both of you, suspicion written across his face. “What were you doing?” he asked, squinting.

Yoongi glanced up at you, fighting a grin. “Nothing,” he said innocently, ruffling Han’s hair. “Just talking.”

Han didn’t look convinced. But before he could press further, his eyes lit up. “Halmeoni said I can have another cookie!” he announced proudly. “But only if you come with me so I don’t take all of them.”

You laughed, reaching down to smooth a stray curl off his forehead. “Did she now?”

He nodded with wild enthusiasm. “Come on! Before she changes her mind!”

Yoongi stood up slowly, casting one last glance your way. His fingers brushed over yours in passing—just a whisper of touch, a fleeting warmth—but the promise in it echoed loud and clear.

I’m not going anywhere.

Then Han was tugging him inside, and Yoongi let himself be led, hand in hand with his son.

You stood there a moment longer, heart still racing, a smile curving your lips without permission.

The night air wrapped around you again, but you weren’t cold. Not anymore.

As you tuck Han into bed that night, the warmth of Yoongi’s childhood home wraps around you like a soft, familiar quilt. There’s something grounding about the creak of the old floorboards beneath your feet and the faint scent of simmering broth still lingering in the air—a comforting blend of soy, garlic, and memories. The walls of the guest room have been hastily dressed with an array of little space and airplane decals that Yoongi's mother had found in a storage box from Yoongi’s own childhood. It was imperfect, but it spoke volumes. And Han, in his astronaut pajamas, nestled into a borrowed blanket, looked perfectly content.

The soft hallway light spills through the cracked door, casting long, lazy shadows that stretch across the room like gentle arms. Outside, the muffled hum of conversation and bursts of laughter echo faintly from downstairs—Yoongi’s family still gathered, full of food and joy. But here in the low hush of bedtime, it’s just you and your son, wrapped in your own quiet world.

Han clutches his frayed, well-loved plush bunny against his chest, the tips of his small fingers curling into the worn fabric. His cheeks are pink from warmth and the day’s adventures, and his round, dark eyes—so unmistakably Yoongi’s—watch you with a curious intensity far too deep for a child his age.

“Eomma?” he asks in a soft, uncertain voice.

You pause, pulling the blanket higher over his chest, your hand smoothing it down like muscle memory. “Yes, bubba?”

Han furrows his brow, clearly grappling with something important in his little mind. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a serious whisper.

“Because you and Appa kissed… does that mean I’m gonna be a big brother now?”

Your heart trips over itself.

For a second, you’re stunned into silence, blinking at his tiny face lit by the gentle spill of light. You open your mouth—then close it again—trying to form a coherent, age-appropriate answer while your brain short-circuits.

“Well, baby… no. Kisses are special, yes, but…” You trail off helplessly, waving your hands for a moment like the answer might float out of the air if you just reach for it. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

Han nods slowly, like he’s considering this, then gives a little huff of finality. “Good. I don’t wanna be a big brother yet. Appa’s brother is loud. He talks a lot.”

You nearly choke on your laughter.

From the doorway, there’s a faint rustling, and you glance up just in time to see Yoongi leaning lazily against the frame. He’s fighting a grin, but it’s a losing battle. His hand is half-covering his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter, his eyes crinkled into perfect crescent moons.

You narrow your eyes and glare at him, exasperated. “You wanna step in and help me here?” you whisper harshly.

Yoongi pushes off the frame and walks in, his socked feet whispering against the floor as he approaches the bed. “Nah,” he murmurs, teasing. “You’re doing great. Very educational.” He mirrors your earlier hand movements.

He then crouches next to the bed, reaching out to gently ruffle Han’s already messy hair. “And you’re not wrong,” he says with a grin. “Appa’s brother is very loud.”

Han nods as if that settles it, yawning wide and snuggling deeper into his bed. You take the opportunity to pull the blanket snug around him and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, your hand brushing gently through his hair.

“Sleep well, sweet boy,” you whisper. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, remember? More Daegu exploring with me and Appa.”

Han hums, eyelids fluttering shut, but he still manages a tiny nod. “’kay, Eomma… ‘night.”

Yoongi stays crouched, his expression softening as he watches Han drift closer to sleep. He leans in, brushing a kiss to his forehead. “Love you, bubs,” he whispers. “Always.”

Han mumbles something that sounds like “love you too,” his little hands clutching his bunny even tighter, and then he’s out—his breath evening out in quiet rhythm.

You and Yoongi exchange a look, one that lingers longer than necessary, full of awe and affection. It’s the kind of look that says everything you’re too full to speak aloud.

You both slip out of the room quietly, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear if Han calls out in the night. In the hallway, the light is dim and golden, casting a warm glow across the faded family photos on the walls.

You lean your back against the wall and let out a long, slow sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. “That kid is going to be the death of me,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

Yoongi laughs softly beside you, close enough that his arm brushes yours. “He’s definitely got a lot of opinions,” he agrees, voice low and warm. “Wonder who he gets that from.”

You scoff, nudging him with your elbow. “You, obviously.”

“Mm,” he hums, unconvinced. Then, quieter, “He’s amazing, you know. You’ve done such a good job with him.”

Your breath catches. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that—but somehow, here in this house, with the scent of old wood and childhood surrounding you, it hits different.

You glance at him. “It wasn’t just me, Yoongi.”

He meets your gaze, something soft and vulnerable glinting in his eyes. “I want it to be us again. Not just in memories.”

The air thickens between you. Gone is the teasing now. He steps in closer, his fingers brushing yours. “I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I want to try again. I want to be a real family. Not just for Han, but for us.”

You stare at him, your heart stuttering painfully against your ribs. The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, familiar and overwhelming. You used to dream of hearing those words again. And now they’re here, and real, and spoken in the home where he first learned what love looked like.

Tears prick your eyes, but you smile through them, stepping close enough that your chest brushes his. “I want that too, Yoongi,” you whisper.

He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for years. Then, with aching tenderness, he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles—slow, reverent. A vow.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice husky. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

And in the quiet hallway, beneath the soft echo of distant laughter and the hush of your son’s breathing behind the door, you let yourself believe in a new beginning.

One born from all the love you never stopped carrying for each other.

——————————————————————————————————

The house gradually quieted as night settled in, the soft murmur of voices downstairs fading into comfortable silence. You helped Yoongi's mother with the last of the dishes, exchanging gentle smiles and quiet words about the adventures that day. As his father headed to bed with a warm "goodnight," and his brother left for his own home, the familiar comfort of the day began to shift into something more intimate.

Yoongi caught your eye across the kitchen, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his gaze. He tilted his head slightly toward the stairs, a silent question in his expression that made your heart skip.

"Want to sit and watch the stars?" he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "The view from the roof is still amazing."

You smiled, remembering countless nights spent exactly there, back when you were both younger and the world felt simpler. "Lead the way."

Following him up the familiar path to the rooftop felt like stepping back in time. The wooden stairs still creaked in the same places, and the cool night air still carried that distinct Daegu scent - a mix of night blooming flowers and distant street food. 

The quiet hum of the city at night buzzes around you, a low, familiar melody of distant cars, cicadas, and muffled voices from neighboring houses. Above you, the stars are scattered like shattered glass across the sky, but the only thing you can focus on is the slow, steady rhythm of Yoongi’s heartbeat against your back, as you sit nestled comfortably with his legs either side of you.

Then, with that signature lazy smirk that always makes your pulse race, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Hey… remember the last time we were alone upstairs here before today?”

Your entire body tenses as heat floods your cheeks. You know exactly what he’s referring to. And judging by the mischievous glint in his dark eyes, that was the entire point—to watch you squirm, to see you fall apart for him the way you always have.

Before you can even open your mouth to answer, the memory crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and dragging you under.

You’re back in his old bedroom. The wallpaper is peeling in the corners, and the posters of old rappers and basketball players still cling stubbornly to the walls. There’s a fan humming quietly in the corner, doing little to cool the heavy, sultry air. But none of that matters.

Because you’re bare. Spread open beneath him on his mattress, your back arched and thighs trembling. His hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding them wide, thumbs stroking slow, teasing circles against your skin.

And his mouth—God, his mouth—is working you like he’s starving.

Yoongi’s tongue moves in slow, devastating sweeps, licking through your folds with maddening precision before circling your clit in wet, flicking motions that send your hips jerking. He groans against you, the sound low and guttural, and the vibration of it punches straight through your core.

“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, one hand tangled in the sheets and the other buried in his soft blonde hair, holding him there like a lifeline.

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he gets hungrier. Bolder.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, gentle at first, then with firmer pressure, dragging a strangled moan from your throat. His fingers join the assault—two of them, thick and sure, slipping inside you with practiced ease, curling forward to press just right.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. “Please—please don’t stop—”

He hums again, deep and satisfied with how he’s unraveling you. The heat coils tight in your belly, your body wound like a spring, every nerve lit up and buzzing.

Then—

The front door creaks open downstairs.

And his mother���s familiar voice echoes up the stairwell.

“Yoongi, Y/N, we’re back!”

You freeze. Everything in you seizes up, panic flashing white-hot through your chest. You tug at his hair, frantically trying to get his attention. But Yoongi just looks up at you, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal, eyes glinting with mischief and something wicked.

He doesn’t stop. He grins.

“Better hurry up and cum, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, hot against your soaked skin. “Can’t leave them waiting downstairs, can we?”

You want to curse him. You want to yell at him. But you can’t do anything except writhe helplessly as he presses his fingers deeper, his tongue flattening over your clit and stroking slow, languid circles. He’s too good. Too confident. And your body betrays you instantly, tightening like a bowstring, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You bite down hard on your own fist, the scream muffled as your orgasm tears through you—violent, shuddering, impossible to fight. Your thighs clamp around his head, and still, he doesn’t stop. He licks you through every pulse, every twitch, every helpless sob.

When you finally go limp, chest heaving, he pulls back and licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the aftertaste. Then he crawls up the bed and gathers you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your temple like he didn’t just ruin you moments before dinner with his parents.

You blink back to the present, your face burning with the force of the memory. Yoongi is watching you closely, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I do remember,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “You were such a little shit for that, I blame the blonde hair made you to cocky. I still can’t believe you had me sit at the dinner table afterward, pretending I wasn’t still shaking, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye!.”

Yoongi laughs, the sound low and deliciously raspy, and you can’t help the way it melts something inside you. You shove his shoulder lightly, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrays you.

He grins and leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet.

“What can I say? You’ve always been irresistible.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is hammering in your chest when he cups your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone.

He leans back on his hands, his gaze twinkling with more mischief.

“And to be fair,” he adds with a cocky tilt of his head, “that wasn’t the first time we almost got caught.”

You gape at him. “Wait… what? When?!”

He chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“After your third semester. I brought you back here on break to show you where I grew up, remember?, I Thought we had a few hours at least before they got home.”

The memory tugs at the edge of your mind, slow and vivid, and your jaw drops as it all comes flooding back.

“Min Yoongi, you sly dirty motherfucker,” you accuse, pointing a finger at him. “Tell me you did not, strategically plan a fuck?!”

He just shrugs, completely unapologetic.

“What! I hadn’t seen you in weeks. I was a man with a plan, honestly what else was I supposed to do?”

You shake your head in mock disbelief, voice faux sweet.

“What would the eommas of the world think if they knew the sweet son of Daegu was corrupting an innocent university exchange student in his bedroom?”

His eyes darken, the mischief in them sharpening into something molten. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a low, sinful rasp that he knows good and well, sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“Probably the same thing they’d think if they knew I had you bouncing on my dick so good, you didn’t even hear my parents come home. Had to cover your mouth so they didn’t hear us, sweetheart, and the way you took me, innocent my ass.”

Burying your flaming face in your hands as your shoulders shook with laughter, Yoongi laughing openly now, utterly delighted by the effect he still has on you.

“I hate you,” you mutter from behind your hands.

He gently pries them away, his smile softening as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“No, you don’t. Not even close”

You sigh, leaning into him helplessly, your smile betraying you.

“True. Not even close.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his voice a low, tender rumble that vibrates through your chest.

“Because I don’t hate you either.”

And just like that, wrapped in Yoongi’s arms under the Daegu night sky, everything else fades away.

The night air is cool against your skin as you sit on the rooftop, the soft glow of the city lights stretching out beneath you. It feels familiar, almost nostalgic, being up here with him again. This place holds so many memories—quiet moments shared between classes, stolen kisses when the world felt too big, and promises whispered under the stars.

Your heart flutters as you glance at Yoongi. He looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in years, the faintest smile playing on his lips as he gazes out at the city he once called home.

“It’s been a while since we sat up here,” you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence.

Yoongi nods. “Yeah… feels like a lifetime ago.”

It does. But somehow, being here again feels right—like this is exactly where you were meant to be.

After a while, Yoongi stands and offers you his hand. Without hesitation, you take it, letting him help you down from the ledge and back inside. But he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs you closer, your bodies almost touching as he looks at you with that soft, vulnerable expression that always made your knees weak.

“Stay with me tonight,” he says quietly, almost shyly. “No funny business. Just… sleeping.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

This… this is something new. Something real. A step forward in whatever this is between you two.

You search his eyes for a moment, seeing nothing but sincerity and the quiet longing that mirrors your own. A slow smile tugs at your lips as you tease, “What? Not a man with a plan tonight?”

Yoongi chuckles softly, shaking his head. “No… not tonight.”

Your heart swells as you squeeze his hand and nod. “Okay. I’d like that.”

You follow him, up to his old bedroom that somehow still smells faintly of mint and something uniquely Yoongi. The room is dimly lit, warm and familiar, filled with pieces of his past.

As you slip under the covers beside him, Yoongi wraps an arm around you, pulling you close until your head rests against his chest. His heartbeat is steady, calming, and for the first time in years, you feel truly safe. Truly home.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile against his shirt, feeling the happiest you’ve felt in years.

“Goodnight, Yoon.”

And just like that, with your bodies tangled together and your hearts slowly finding their rhythm again, you both drift off to sleep.

taglist: @busanbby-jjk @jajabro @kam9404 @yoongiiuu93 @julseka07 @tea4sykes @marihoneywk @maryhopemei @sanarin @misschelliejeon @boraluv @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @hyuninslutbbgirl @Granataepfelchen @mar-lo-pap @enfppuff @senaqsstuff @vainkiss @rinkud @lanyia @alessioayla @watchingover-hypegirl @muchwita @elliott-calls

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

featuring - Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader, Buggy x F!Reader, Shanks x F!Reader, Brook x F!Reader, Chopper x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - my first time writing for ALL of these characters, so i'm sorry if i get their characters wrong! im only 416 episodes into the anime. i tried my best!

a/n - this was requested by @faioula16, i hope you like it!

MIHAWK

This could honestly go either way. This guy is unpredictable and even you never know what his next move will be. But you're his faithful and loving girlfriend, so there are some exceptions when it comes to you. Like when some deranged devil fruit user turns you into a baby, and Mihawk could have had someone else take care of you, but he wanted to do it himself. He was curious, now that it was you who was an infant.

But that may also be because a witness to the scene had expressed fear for infant you, saying that Mihawk was too cold and ruthless to take care of a baby. He didn't need to prove otherwise, and he didn't want to, but something just gnawed at him. Protectiveness, maybe. You were in such a vulnerable state right now, only he could protect you and care for you.

It had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that you looked so adorable staring at him with your big (eye colour) eyes, reaching out to tap his because the strange colour fascinated you. No, it had nothing to do with how cute your excited squeal was every time he picked you up or looked at you. He was absolutely not entranced by your cute little smile or how you clung to him with little hands that could barely hold his one finger. Absolutely not.

Mihawk is actually a pretty good babysitter. But only for you. He will sit and read to you with you on his lap, trying not to smile when you giggle and smack the book, always catching you when you lunged forward excitedly and almost fell off his lap. He will never finish the story, but he reads to you anyway because you seem to like it...for a little while.

"(Name), no!"

He almost had a heart attack when he set you down for one second to put the book away, and you almost fell off the table because you were trying to crawl to him. Your eyes filled with tears when he yelled, even if he hadn't meant to sound angry. His gaze softened, and he picked up and cradled you against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. You're fine, little one."

And then you really are fine, your little body comforted by his actions and words. They lull you into sleep, and soon you rest on his shoulder and fall into a deep sleep, gripping his shirt collar tightly in your tiny fist.

"Sleep well, (Name)."

When you awake, in your usual adult form, you're too nervous to suggest it, but thankfully Mihawk is thinking the same thing.

"I think I'd like a little you or me to keep me company."

BUGGY

Buggy is horrible with children. I mean he's not great with people, but he is absolutely, terrifyingly not good with kids at all. So when you were somehow turned into a tiny human being who could barely stand on two legs, he was shocked. And slightly scared, though he would never admit it. You were the only person he genuinely liked, so he tried not to be too...rough, with your little form. Picking you up was as far as he got, but even then he held you out awkwardly like a football.

And then you squealed and happily reached for his nose, the bright red circular appendage attracting your attention instantly. Now, Buggy was sensitive about his nose, but he let you touch it. A testament to how much he liked you. And, if he were being honest, you were actually kind of cute squeezing his nose like that until he couldn't breath-

Exhale out the mouth.

When he remembered he could use his mouth to breathe, he smiled a little at how much you were enjoying yourself playing with his nose. You even touched his makeup and all his markings, out of curiosity. Your eyes were bright with confusion but also fascination, and it did something weird to Buggy. Made him feel...warm inside?

Then he decided to, experimentally, see what your reaction to his devil fruit would be in this tiny form. He set you down on the floor again, and then detached his hand. Your eyes went wide and you instantly covered your eyes with your small hands, your bottom lip trembling. He panicked, tripping over himself and falling into a tangled heap in front of you. You peeked between your fingers to see this, then burst out into cute laughter. Buggy almost glared at you, but then remembered you were just a baby and instead picked himself up and smiled - or rather tried his best not to smile like a maniac - at you.

Then you saw his floating hand, and grabbed it.

"No no, (Name), that's not-"

You stuck his fingers in your mouth, and he groaned. You just giggled innocently, and only then did he realise his devil fruit could be a source of entertainment for you. He detached multiple limbs and floated them around, watching as you squealed in glee and crawled around trying to catch them.

Were you actually having fun because of him?

When he finally put his body back together again, you pouted but crawled up to his leg and hugged it, gurgling happily as if to thank him. He was stunned. He slowly picked you up and you offered him a toothless smile, before yawning. Still unsure, he laid you on his shoulder and awkwardly patted your back, but that seemed to work because you slowly fell asleep.

When you woke up again, finally an adult, you grinned at him, "Shall we make you a father?"

SHANKS

It was his fault, really. He picked the fight, contrary to his usual behaviour. But that guy had said something about you, and he couldn't ignore it, so of course he acted. And now here you were, a tiny baby fisting his shirt in your tiny hand and looking up at him with big, curious (eye colour) eyes. He had experience with children, of course, having spent some time with Luffy. But you were so small, so delicate.

"Captain, what-"

He ignored the confused questions from his crew as he brought you back on board the ship, immediately taking you to his quarters. It shouldn't last long, he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty. Though that quickly disappeared when you giggled and crawled around his quarters, knocking things over and hiding with a loud giggle when he caught you.

"Oi, (Name)!" He tried to sound stern, he really did, but his laugh have his mood away. You stuck your head out from under his bed and stuck your tiny tongue out at him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, you're cute, sweetheart."

He lifted you up again and you squealed excitedly and reached for his hair, the bright colour attracting your attention. He grinned and put you on his head, keeping his hands on your small waist, and soon felt you tug on his red strands. You were giggling and pulling and kicking your legs happily, so he endured the pain just for your sake. It was very cute how you thought his hair was a toy, and by the time you got tired of it, it was a mess. Strands were everywhere, out of place, sticking out...but it didn't matter to him.

Because now you were looking at him with your big, innocent eyes and suckling on your hand as he cradled you against his chest. He gently rubbed your back and pressed a soft kiss to your tiny tuft of (hair colour) hair.

"You're so pretty even as a baby, (Name)."

You rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, making him laugh. He sat on his bed with you still in his arms, watching as you grew tired and offered him the cutest sight - the tiniest of yawns.

"Sleep, little one."

He gently rocked you to sleep, reassuringly and soothingly patting your small back as you drifted off on his shoulder. He felt warm inside, as if a small fire had been lit inside him. He knew what it was.

And when you woke up in adult form, he grinned at you, "Let me give you a baby, sweetheart."

BROOK

Brook has experience with babies. Maybe not human babies, but babies nonetheless. He knows a human baby is very different to a whale baby, but he figures that there can be similarities too. Such as entertainment, which is his area of expertise. So when he looks down at his feet to see baby you tugging on his pants, he is somewhat prepared. He has no idea how you were turned into a baby, of course, but he's not complaining because you are so, so adorable.

"What happened to (Name)?" Franky asked the skeleton, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing important!" Was Brook's gleeful reply, followed by a laugh when you somehow crawled on top of his afro and knocked his hat off so you could take its place.

"Nothing imp-" Franky sighed. "Do you even know how to look after a baby?" Franky's eyes worriedly drifted to where you sat upon the skeleton's head, tugging on his afro and squealing with delight. You wobbled precariously.

"No, but it can't be any different to a baby whale!"

Franky would have commented on that, if you hadn't slipped off Brook's head. The cyborg easily caught you, before holding you out to Brook, "Don't let her sit on your head."

"Noted."

For the rest of the day, Brook occupied you by sitting you down on his bed and playing music for you, telling you stories about Laboon and his crew, and about his experiences in the Grand Line before you guys found him. He sang all sorts of songs, played all sorts of melodies, while you giggled and clapped your hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. Brook smiled, the sight warming heart - oh, but he doesn't have a heart. He hardly ever got tired, but you prompted him to play for hours on end, until he really was exhausted. So he picked you up, settled on his bed, and lay you on his lap before humming a tune. You slowly drifted off to sleep, and Brook smiled.

He hoped he could play for one of the crew's babies one day.

CHOPPER

Another island, another mishap, another adventure. No trip is ever boring with the Straw Hats, and this was again proven when an unfortunate encounter with a devil fruit user who could change people's ages led to you being turned into an infant. And that's how you found yourself cradled in Sanji's arms, with Chopper trying to get a good look at you all throughout the walk back to the Sunny.

"Chopper, she's fine," the cook tried to assure the doctor, but Chopper was having none of it.

He was so worried, because no one was equipped to take care of a baby, and he cared about you so much that now you were a baby, he was becoming overprotective. As soon as Sanji set you down somewhere safe for Chopper to examine you, he was grabbing his bag and bringing out all his different tools. He checked all your vitals and made sure you were first and foremost healthy, before he could consider anything else.

Then you touched his blue nose and widened your eyes in fascination, gurgling softly, and Chopper blushed brightly. He smiled and poked your nose back, and you let out the cutest giggle that melted the reindeer's little heart. He shifted to his humanoid form and gently lifted you up into his arms, cradling you as he gazed down at you with the utmost love, adoration and fascination he could manage. You were so tiny, even more so than him, and so so cute. Then you sneezed, looking stunned for a moment before giggling loudly. And Chopper thought there was nothing more joy-inducing than holding and watching baby you.

"Chopper, where's-oh." Nami stopped when she saw Chopper standing there just holding you, one of his fingers in your tiny hand as he cooed at you and made you giggle. She smiled softly and left the room, deciding you were in safe hands.

"You're the cutest baby in the world, (Name)," Chopper told you. You just smiled brightly, exposing your gums cause you had no teeth, and waved your small arms around happily.

Chopper was really good with you. He monitored you throughout the 24 hours, making sure you ate properly, got enough sleep and were bathed properly. He is probably the best caretaker out of all the men on this list, not only because he's doctor but he's naturally caring and nurturing. It comes like second nature to him. Besides, you were such a calm and quiet baby - except for the giggling - that you made it easy for him. He was almost sad when you fell asleep, knowing you'd be grown up again when you woke up.

But maybe one day the crew would be able to fawn over a baby everyday. Maybe one day.

[0kurakura0]

In da clurb we all fam

--->tf 141 x (platonic) reader (American)

This is a stupid headcanon if the reader was part of tf 141 and had a chaotic platonic relationship with all of them (might make this into a series if more popular because I love these little brain rot imagine. Comment on what readers call sign should be lol!!!

Reader would be on the younger side, close to Soap's age but maybe a year or two younger.

I feel like it would def be Soap, Gaz, and Reader being the troublemaker trio of the base, and would pull pranks all the time.

You, Gaz, and Soap had the amazing idea of taking Ghost's masks and wearing them around like it was a normal day. In the common room, y'all are wearing the masks just chatting about. Till yall hear a loud slamming noise and certain cranky pants yell, "WERE ARE THOSE SHITS." "Guys, if we stick together, he can't take us all, LIBERTY OR DEATH," you say to the other 2. "FREEDOM," Soap yells along with you. "wankers..." Gaz says, watching the 2. You turn your head around to see Ghost staring down at you with a death glare. "hand it over," he says in a threatening tone. "hehe, LT, be prepared for your day of defeat has finally arrived. Come on, guy, let-" your voice dies out as you turn your head to see the now vacant seats where your teammates once stood. "Those bitches..." you say as Ghost grabs your back collar and drags you away for an extra brutal training session.

Read would be the person on base to try and take over the base's speaker system to play music any chance they got.

"I hope they play Fien" "what the bloody hell are you talking about we are in the middle of training," Gaz says Fien starts blasting throughout the base as you start jamming out

Definitely have tried to get Nikolai to let you fly the helicopter. But everyone has come to a silent agreement that they don't know if you can fly one well, and they don't ever want to find out if you can or not

Constantly makes Price question his life choices of recruiting you.

"Remember Farah, you always can call if you need us." "yeah in da clurb we all fam" "... what" "in da clurb, we all-" "bloody hell Sergent shut up"

During the 4th of July, you take advantage of the holiday to rub it into the faces of all the Brits on base. Saop loves to join in and helps decorate the whole base in American flags and also takes advantage of having an excuse to make homemade fireworks.

Ghost, Price, and Gaz just stand in total annoyance as they watch the 2 idiots in front of them who are dancing around dressed in American flagged style clothes as they since the national anthem. "NOW SOAP TO THE BATHTUB AS WE REENACT THE BOSTON TEA PARTY" you yell in in excitement. "Touch that tea and I break your bloody fingers"

If there are grammar errors, sorry did this while in class

also hope yall like this little imagine<3

[em-harlsnow]

“jesus!” lip screeches, making mickey jump.

he spins at the sink, turning to face lip who’s hovering in the bathroom door.

“what the fuck is your problem?” mickey gargles around his toothbrush. ian’s toothbrush. he hasn’t had a chance to get his own yet, only been out of prison for half a day.

“what happened to you?” lip shouts, eyes wide and appalled.

mickey didn’t think the scrapes on his face were too bad. ian cleaned them up a bit, so they aren’t bleeding anymore. maybe lip is more of a pussy than he thought, getting so freaked out by a couple of scabs.

“i jumped out of a bus.” mickey says, frowning.

lip’s eyebrows furrow deep into his forehead. “did the bus choke you out?” he asks, incredulous.

it’s mickey’s turn to be confused. “what are you talking about?”

“your neck! that huge fucking bruise! how does that even happen?” lip asks, pointing to the base of mickey’s neck.

batting lip’s hand away, mickey turns back to the sink to look at the side of his neck that lip’s pointing to. there’s a deep purple bruise there, a couple splotches of pinkish red beneath it. it’s huge, and it really does look like someone’s aggressive fingers have been trying to cut off his air circulation.

for a second, mickey’s confused. he doesn’t remember anyone choking him. definitely not enough to leave him with deep and vivid bruises like he has.

“what the fuck?” he mutters. when he touches the bruises, his skin sort of tingles but it doesn’t hurt in the same way a bruise would.

“what is that?” lip asks. “do you seriously not remember getting strangled half to death?”

mickey shakes his head, pulling his shirt down a little to see how deep the damage goes. he finds a bite mark, and suddenly it all comes back to him. no one strangled him. this was all ian’s destructive mouth, getting too excited about mickey coming home and being free. mickey was excited too, but the worst he did was leave ian with some red scratches. nothing like this.

“jesus.” mickey mutters. he remembers ian getting fixated on his neck, but he doesn’t remember anything that would have caused this sort of damage.

“how do you not remember-“

“Gallagher!” Mickey yells, ignoring lip’s hovering.

“What?” Ian shouts back up the stairs.

“Get the fuck up here!” Mickey tells him, covering the deep splotch with his hand. it’s as wide and as long as two fingers. mickey didn’t even know that was possible to do with just a mouth.

he hears ian’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and ignores lip’s confusion.

“what?” ian sighs, looking out-out and exasperated.

“look at this shit!” mickey exclaims, removing his hand from his neck to display the deep and obvious bruising.

ian’s eyes turn concerned and he touches the skin around the hickey delicately.

“jesus, what happened? who did that?” ian asks, as worried as he is perplexed.

“you did, you fucking idiot.” mickey tells him. “how the fuck did you even do that?”

“no i didn’t!” ian snaps.

lip’s still watching, stunned by the whole conversation.

“yes, you did! it’s a fucking hickey, what’s wrong with you? how old are you? giving me this shit at the big age of fucking twenty-five? look, you bit me too.” mickey tells him, pulling down the hem of his shirt to show the teeth indents in his shoulder. ian’s thumb follows the damage, face tilting into surprise.

“oh, shit.” ian mutters, shocked at himself.

“you did that?” lip asks his brother. “how do you even- that’s huge! your mouth isn’t that big.”

“exactly.” mickey huffs, reluctantly agreeing with lip.

“i don’t even remember- oh, wait. yeah, okay. jesus, sorry, i didn’t know it was that bad.” ian says.

lip breaks into barking laughter, holding himself up on the wall. “that’s so stupid. you’re a grown man, ian, leaving hickeys like a high schooler.” he cackles, panting for breath.

ian glares at him. “it’s not my fault. i got caught up in the moment. besides, you didnt have any complaints at the time.” he grumbles, sending a knowing look to mickey.

“yeah, well, i gotta meet my PO tomorrow and this shit isn’t going anywhere.” mickey groans.

lip’s still laughing himself into a fit.

“sorry.” ian says. “debbie has some concealer you can borrow, i bet. i saw this thing where you put a whisk on it and it can fade.”

“you’re fucking crazy ian.” lip laughs, wheezing with it. “that’s crazy. i thought someone tried to kill him.”

“go away.” ian mutters, shoving lip’s shoulder.

“so stupid. look at his neck! christ, ian, i didn’t want to see that shit.” lip says, practically dying with panting chuckles.

“go away, lip.” ian whines, and mickey rolls his eyes. ian sounds like an annoyed little brother and mickey just wants lip to stop laughing his ass off.

“this is fucked.” mickey mutters, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“it’s kind of hot.” ian murmurs, getting a pissed-off stare from mickey.

“ew, gross, ian!” lip shouts.

“oh, just get out.” ian says, shoving lip down the hall and shutting him and mickey away in the bathroom.

“you’re an animal.” mickey tuts, trying to think of any way to hide it.

“i’m sorry, i really didn’t realise i was doing that.” ian says, examining it himself. mickey lets him look at it and press on the purpling skin.

mickey huffs. “it’s fine, i didn’t realise either.”

“y’know my back’s torn to shreds.” ian adds.

“well, no one can see your back. everyone can see this.” mickey points out.

“Mm.” ian agrees. “we’ll get rid of it, don’t worry. or i’ll find you a turtleneck.”

“great, i get to wear a turtleneck in the middle of summer.” mickey scoffs.

“i’m sorry.” ian mumbles.

mickey sighs. “it’s fine. it is kind of hot, but next time do it somewhere people can’t fucking see it.”

“oooo, next time.” ian grins, smacking a kiss on mickey’s cheek. “i’ll find some concealer and a whisk.” he says, backing out of the bathroom.

“good, do it quick before any more of your siblings see.”