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wonryllis · 2 days

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✶ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝒟𝐎𝐋𝐋? RICH BOY ENHYPEN PINNING AFTER YOU.

目录──────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝓉𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗘 ⋅ enhypen showing that you're not just one of the girls. wordcount total 2882 (approx 0.4k each) ⭑ CONTAINS— female!reader, fluff, suggestive, lots of swearing. % strongly recommend listening to ›› the respective songs while reading! jungwon's is inspired by ␥ kavin and kaning. ( THE ARCHIVE? ) PLS REBLOG ><

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. HELLGIRL BY ARI ABDUL

"shit. you gotta wear this one, angel," heeseung groans in satisfaction, ignorant and indifferent to the fact that all the store employees could hear him, someone who never brings over girls to places like these, going insane over one. and the fact that you were unable to wrap your head around this situation just yet.

it was surreal and it was nerve wrecking. but heeseung was adamant that he needed you.

needed you to dress so fucking gorgeous and stand by his side as his date for the night while he paraded around greeting his parents' guests. showing them that he is capable of being committed by bringing along a partner for the first time ever. that's what he tells you—

"is this really fine?" you ask again, hands dusting over the sleek satin hugging your skin in a way that it tickled. heeseung stands up and strides overs to where you stand, arms sliding around your waist to pull you against him. "it's more than fine, absolutely stunning," leaning into your neck to leave kisses, "and so hot," right infront of everyone, no one daring to say a word to him, except you.

you who has been an exception to all his rules, you who has made him want to do things he has never wanted to before. you who has swept him off his feet.

you push against his chest in an attempt to stop him,"we'll be late, should go now," he hums in a low growl, lips nipping right against your ear before he pulls away with much exasperation almost unsated. clicking his tongue in annoyance for the staff to hurry the billing once he's done admiring you. unable to stand that anyone beside him see you dressed so pretty.

"just smile and follow my lead," heeseung tells you once you arrive at the venue. giving you an encouraging look as he instructs the valet to wait until you seem calm enough to step out. that's what he tells you— heart eyes and odd actions speaking for themselves. his hands find your waist when you finally walk up the stairs, breath shaky as you pass the entrance.

"relax angel, 'm right here, we can leave whenever you want," he kisses the side of your head, lips lightly touching your styled hair. never caring about who's looking and who's thinking what. if only you knew it too.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STAY BY ARI ABDUL

"look behind you, princess," the voice incoming from your phone suddenly sounds too loud, paired with faint footsteps coming to a halt. jay's lips break into a wide smile when you turn around in an instant to look at him. your eyes following his hands holding an enormous bouquet of red roses, before you notice anything else.

before you notice the want in his eyes. the want for you.

"jay? i thought you were in— " you speak into the phone, eyes locked with his, but before you can finish he hangs up the call. approaching you with quick steps and immediately pulling you into a kiss. one that's short but deep enough to convey his feelings. "berlin? yeah, but i flew back for you," he breathes out against your lips.

"why?" "you know why love," his fingers twirl the hair falling into face, tucking them away and cupping your cheek as he gives you a smile before stepping away.

he waits for you to say something, to address his feelings but like always you avoid it and like always jay lets you. alas there will come a time when you would no longer be able to deny his love, so until then he will continue to show you all ways you own his heart in. his forever princess."what about that conference you were going to attend with your dad?" you ask, accepting his bouquet.

watching him with a soft giggle as he struggles to pull out a single rose and place it behind your ear. "don't worry about it," in a reassuring tone he leads you to his car. teasing you of a surprise each time you question where you are headed.

asking you to have your eyes closed while he leads you to the rooftop of a high-rise building owned by his family, illuminated by pretty lights and flowery wreaths, and a firework show worth a million.

all just for you.

to pose a smile on your face and to be the one to put it. to be the reason of your happiness and to be the person beside you in your best memories,"happy new year, princess," jay whispers into you ear as you open your eyes to see all of it. "jay this—" you gasp in a trance, gaze hooked on the sky while his is fixated in the way the fireworks shine against your pretty orbs and the gloss on your lips,"it's all for you,"

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. MEDDLE ABOUT BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"you owe me. you can't keep avoiding me forever, doll," jake chuckles, noticing how you turn the other way after catching a glimpse of him. finding it adorable how you do everything you can to not cross paths with him.

leaving him no choice but to wait for you outside your university, leaning against his black lykan hypersport; attracting unwanted attention while his eyes only look for your cute panicked figure amidst the crowd.

"i told you it was a mistake—" you refute, throwing a glare at his smug face as he drives right beside you, following your every step, nonchalant about all the stares you both get as long as you agree to him taking you out. "get in the car," or the other way round, he's fine with both. frustrated and knowing you'd never be able to escape him, you decide to give in.

"you owe me lunch," jake grins as his eyes watch you get into the passenger seat just like the passenger princess you are.

his passenger princess. first and last in his beloved car.

"jake this— isn't this too—" your heart skips beats at the sight of the dock and the luxury cruise restaurant closing in, scared and nervous about how much you'd have to spend but jake just shushes you. getting out the car first and coming over to open the door for you; one hand holding yours and the other cushioning your head as you step out.

"just let me have your time and i'll let you off of staining my prada with coffee," he begs, afraid you'd walk out of here if he were to tell you the real reason. if he were to tell you that you have his heart and no matter what you do his feelings are not changing. if he were to tell you he wanted to take you out to all these places and spoil you rotten and occupy your mind like you occupy his.

if he were to tell you it was indeed not your fault for he bumped into you on purpose to find an excuse to talk to you.

"but—" jake shushes you again, fingers rubbing against your lips as he shakes his head before pulling out the chair for you and helping you sit properly,"don't think too much doll, just do as i say, please?" planning to keep you busy until the sun goes down so he can take you to for a ride on his yacht.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. BABYDOLL BY ARI ABDUL

"fuck baby, don't cry like that," sunghoon panics, his fingers grazing under your eyes to gently wipe the tears. afraid if he's not careful enough, he'll break you. "as much as i love the way you look so pretty like this, tears are not for someone like you," he has no idea how to soothe your frantically crying figure, slouched in the passenger seat against the expensive leather of his aston martin.

his hands fumble around in an attempt to think of ways he could just make you feel better and smile for him. those adorable crinkle of your eyes that have him whipped.

fuming each time he thinks of the moron who took that opportunity away from him by making you sad. he swears if he finds him, he'll beat the living daylights out of him. remind him not to linger anywhere around his girl.

sunghoon softly cups your cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss you, lips moving slow and sensual, "forget him, let me make you happy," he whispers into your mouth once he pulls away, foreheads touching and hands caressing your face lovingly. he makes sure your belt is secured before driving off to one of the luxury malls in the city, ones where you need to be of a certain level to enter.

a place you probably could never have the chance to enter if it weren't for him.

"my princess gotta shop her sadness out, hmm?" sunghoon coos as he stops outside the building, watching you gape in surprise, surprised himself that you are yet to realize just how much you mean to him.

"come on, i'll buy you whatever you lay your eyes on," he insists before you have the chance to deny him.

his hands rest at the back of your waist, leading you inside after handing his keys to the valet. dropping a soft kiss on your temple when you watch his vip card being inspected with a nervous breath of how elite this place has to be.

and knowing how new you must feel to all this, sunghoon pulls you closer with the intention of making it known that this is how it's gonna be from now, "get used to it, baby," you're not his yet but he's gonna treat you like you are. after all it's only a matter of time before it happens.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

ぃ ⏤ now playing. GOOD GIRL BY THOMAS LAROSA

"good girl, you did a great job," sunoo pats your head teasingly amused at the confusion adorning your features. "sunoo, what were you doing there! you don't even have marketing?" the way you close in, demanding an explanation assures him that you indeed were affect by his presence, by the eye contact he held with you the entire time you were giving your presentation.

walking into the lecture hall in the middle of it as if he owned the place and taking a seat at a spot that directly put him in your line of sight. smirking, raising his brows and pushing his tongue against his cheeks to distract and annoy you.

"would you believe me if i said i came to see you?" his hands took ahold of your wrists playing with your fingers as he waited for you to answer.

"liar," you whisper, suddenly conscious of the implication behind his words and it makes him chuckle, of course what did he expect? you're hard to get, and perhaps that's the reason he feels so attracted, almost crazy over you.

like something he has to have, someone he has to have.

he takes a step closer, his varsity hat poking against the top of your head as his eyes bore into yours just the way they did inside earlier,"see? what do you want me to say then?" he whispers back, tone suddenly changing into a serious one. "you can't just enter any class like that," your innocent claim goes through him from one ear and falls through the other. how naive you are.

"i can if it's my dad's university," he can't help but chuckle at the expression on your face when you put the pieces together and realize it. all those times you came across him in places with strict attendance, it all made sense now.

"as adorably as you scold me, you're gonna see me everywhere you go," sunoo warns, leaning in impossibly close, lips hovering over yours,"you should stop fooling yourself baby,"

his hands move from your wrists to rest against the wall behind, voice dropping an octave,"and you should stop fooling around just because you can," you bite back, pressing your palm into his chest to push him back. "i'm fooling around because i want you, and i will have you," "you—" "we have a party this weekend at our summer villa, come with me?"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. SINNERS BY ARI ABDUL AND THOMAS LAROSA

"jungwon? what are you doing here? are you okay?" it makes jungwon happy to see you worrying about him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pant as he watches you walk around the counter to his figure by the door. finding his cerulean blue chevrolet corvette 2lz parked in his usual spot, and him still dressed in the armani and hermès set you saw him in an hour ago when he dropped you off at your uncle's flower shop.

"mhm, just wanted to see my pretty girl again," he grins cockily once you realize there's nothing wrong and he's just trying playing around like always.

albeit to jungwon, it's never been a play and you have never been a toy.

this has been his way of showing you that you're not just another girl he's chasing after; because yang jungwon has never chased as opposed to what you think. and to harbour such deep and honest feelings that compel him to do what he has never done, that should have given you the hint by now. perhaps he'll just have to try a tad bit harder.

"how do you wear this?" he struts inside, passing by you to the space behind the counter you previously stood at, dangling a lone apron by his pinky and raising his brows at you, waiting. "your clothes will get dirty!" your attempts to curb him fall through for jungwon's persistence to stay with you holds like a strong wall, incapable of budging.

"i don't really care," jungwon's hands loop around the strings in a way that has the apron falling off making you giggle as you give in and just step in to help him,"idiot, that's not how you do it," you mumble.

and all he can think of is how he wants to be your idiot.

"how does this look? i think it looks so pretty on you," he says, putting a messy wreath on your head. to jungwon there's always flowers blooming everywhere you go, sweet scent overtaking all his scenes believing that's how you intoxicated him.

you slap away his hands in a shy chuckle that he doesn't understand, did he say something wrong? not aware and quite literally clueless of his own effect. by the time the sun sets down, you're asleep with your head down on the counter, facing him. and jungwon admires the way you looks so pretty, prettier than any flower.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STUCKINMYBRAIN BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"riki?" oh. you're here? riki looks up at the sound of your footsteps getting closer, halting a metre away from him, like you always do, not too close, not too far and it drives him crazy. "what are you doing here?" you ask, confused to find him waiting outside your mundane apartment building with his out of place red ferrari sf90.

"uh, you left this in the car last time," he fumbles out a dior liquid blush, clearly brand new and a shade you have never used before.

"that's not mine," giggling, you walk over to the other side, opening the passenger seat door to fish out the gloss you actually did leave and waving it in the air to show him,"this is mine richboy," the soft sounds of laughter, your teasing voice.

his favorite thing in the world as of late.

you who has him smitten with infatuation, unable to get you off his mind no matter how much he tries. you who never gives him the answer he wants but never pushes him away either. you who makes him feel like a pathetic loser, you who makes him want to try as many times as he can to win your heart.

"it's a gift," he quickly improvises, wanting you to accept it, of getting a chance to give you something. "you're gifting me a blush?" you question and it throws him off, blush?,"wait, it's not a lipgloss— i, i had no idea, i have never—" riki swears, he really had no clue,"bought makeup?" he nods and it makes you burst into a fit of laughter again. it warms his heart, leaning against his car and watching you with eyes that speak volumes of his feelings.

feelings that anyone could notice, anyone but you.

he lets you revel in his silly naivety, content to know you are not longer sad as you were a few days ago.

"now this suits you pretty little face," he says once you seem to calm down, bewildered at his sudden compliment while he walks over to you.

cupping your face and caressing your cheeks,"so pretty," mumbling under his breath, loud enought to reach your ears,"it's boring when you cry, baby," his lips hover over your own as both of your heartbeats pick up in sync, breath getting caught up at the shift in the atmosphere. "let's go on a drive, we'll get you a bunch of pretty glosses to wear for me,"

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @snoopypupp @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun

#enhypen imagines #k-labels #SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME GET INSIDE HEESEUNG'S SCENARIO #the way i changed riki's part like five times ㅠㅠ #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen niki imagines #divider by saradika graphics

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bunnys-kisses · 2 days

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thing just ain't fittin'

captain john price

cw: pwp/smut, younger!reader (legal aged), size kink, shy!reader, female reader, finger-fucking, brief oral sex (reader receiving), multiple orgasms, breeding kink

bunny: *leaves this and goes running for the hills*

a sight to behold.

lips touched lips.

price was a maniac for your affection. and how much he wanted to cram every last inch into your sweet cunt. he wondered if it would fit, at almost eight inches he knew that it was hard to stuff it all in his pants. so to get it to fit into your tight heat was going to be another challenge.

so price had you on your back, you clung to a pillow on your chest as you moaned into it. you hid your face because you were just so shy. his lips were up against your neck as he finger-fucked you.

his facial hair brushed against your skin that felt like a live wire was being run across it. he could feel your quick pulse under his lips as he continued to attempt to loosen your cunt for his heavy cock.

when he got undressed and revealed his hard on to you, your eyes went wide and you gulped. you thought you knew what "almost eight inches" looked like, until it was pressed up against your face, your nose dipped into his dark pubic hair.

it wasn't fittin'.

so he laid you back on the bed and played with your sweet sex until you were soaked. he wanted to make sure that when he sank into your pussy, it felt good.

"that's my good girl." he purred, his cock stood at full attention.

"john." you croaked.

he chuckled, "don't worry, love. let me take care of ya. my sweet girl." he kissed at the shell of your ear, "so good for me. you like when i play with you like this." he tugged on it a little with his teeth, "tell me, love. how much do you like it?"

you clung to the pillow tighter and whimpered, it felt like you were being taken apart piece by piece. your wetness clung to your inner thighs. you replied, "it feels so good, john."

he calloused thumb grazed your clit and you jolted up. but he was quickly and kept your pinned to the bed by his forearm against your chest, "down girl." he chuckled.

the sounds of your wetness paired with your sweet moans filled your bedroom. your toes curled and you hole fluttered around his digits. you didn't even need to say in words how good it all felt. your brain was currently being melted by his touches.

and it wasn't even the main event yet.

"please, john. I think i'm ready!" you whined.

your older boyfriend chuckled, "i'm not takin' ya to the hospital because i was too big for my so much smaller girl." he pulled away to look at you. to monitor your expressions as he moved his fingers faster.

you tensed up as you hid your face once more. but he wasn't letting you hide for much longer. he pulled your head away from the pillow and held you hair as he examined your face. his pace was brutal.

"john! ah! fuck!" you whined.

he kissed your flushed cheek and said, "good girl. come around my fingers. i want to make sure you're as wet as you can get, love. i want to fit like a glove in you."

you replied, "maybe if you weren't so big we wouldn't have this problem."

he grabbed you by the face and turned you to face him. his expression seemed hard for a moment as he said, "you won't be complainin' once it's buried in ya."

his dominating demeanor was enough to make you orgasm. you clutched onto the pillow and came around his thick fingers. you swore you saw stars as you hit your peak.

price was pleased with himself as he pulled his fingers out of you, they glistened in the soft light of your bedroom. curiosity got the best of him as he licked your wetness off of his fingers. the sight of it in your heightened euphoria made your cheeks burn.

"only the best." he purred he licked his top lip before he got himself between your legs. his movements were slow but precise, like he had been practicing in his mind how to get himself to fit in you. he grabbed you by the thighs and had his face between your legs.

he shuddered when he got to taste you wet pussy. the slick clung to your lips as he gave them a gentle lick. his cock was painfully hard, if he didn't get into you soon he was going to finish all over the sheets.

and why would he do that? not when he has the most perfect, soaked pussy to fill up.

he panted as he took small breaks to catch his breathing. your wetness is in his facial hair. those blue eyes looked up from where he was before he dove back in.

"please, ah! john!" you whined.

he was certain you were overwhelmed with pleasure. he gave the top of your pussy a kiss, right over you cervix. he smiled as he kissed your soft skin. kisses mark the spot.

the spot he was going to finish on.

he wiped his mouth, he knew he'd have to wash his face afterwards. the taste of you lingered on him as he got between your legs and rested on his heels. his cock stood proud.

your brain was to riddled with pleasure that his cock looked a little less intimidating.

a big cock for a big man in charge.

while he didn't make you feel small in a bad way, sometimes the sheer size him had you feeling like a little delicate creature. it didn't help that almost an hour since you entered the bedroom, he was only now fucking you.

he grabbed the pillow from you and put it under your hips for leverage. he admired your sweaty body as his cock pushed into your pussy. the feeling of your tight cunt almost knocked the wind out of him.

you covered your face as you moaned. you felt so embarrassed by how good it felt. you couldn't believe it was all fitting in there.

"holy shit, love." he groaned. it came from the depths of his soul. he felt the sparks go off in his head as he managed to get inch after inch into you. eventually his heavy fuzzy balls were rubbing against you.

he had fit it all in you.

he placed a hand on your middle and rubbed it. his wishful thinking had him wondering if he could feel it in you. the heavy weight of his cock inside of his sweet girl's even sweeter pussy.

your cheeks burned, the room felt hot. but most of all you felt full. you were thankful that he was close to eight inches and not close to nine. you weren't certain there was enough space.

but you also knew that price would make it fit.

your older, more physically imposing boyfriend started to move his hips. your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the nudge of his length against where your pussy ended. it felt like it was past your uterus and was now just in your stomach.

"so small." he chuckled, his cheeks were stained pink, "but still you are such a good girl for me. i thought i was only gettin' the tip in. but i now know that your sweet little cunny can fit all of me."

you whimpered. while the pace wasn't particularly fast, every movements made shivers run through your body. you could feel it from your toes to the tip of your nose.

price admired you though. he watched as you squirmed to accommodate his movements. a thrill of possessiveness ran up his spine at the thought of how his cock could fit in you.

not that co-worker he hated, or the guy who bagged your groceries. or even the guy who cashed your pay stubs. only him, john price.

his pace began to pick up as he felt the pleasure cross up his spine. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned in to kiss you. he planted both hands on either side of your head as he thrusted into you.

your body moved against the bed and you held onto the covers under you. you moaned and whimpered against his kiss. it was music to his ears and it made him ache for more.

his good girl, who made him all fit inside of her. weren't you just the most perfect girl he could ever ask for. he only parted the kiss for a moment before he went in for another.

his cock felt so heavy. your hole fluttered around it, it was euphoria as he continued to move. the pleasure was filling both of your heads with heavy heat. his chest was soon pressed against yours as he held your thighs up to get as deep as he could get.

you panted heavily between moans. you tried to meet his pace without thinking. your eyes were hazy. the pleasure was intense, you let you boyfriend take control however he saw fit.

"my girl."

"yes."

you were the first to climax. the pleasure built up in your gut once more and you clenched around him as you let out a high pitched noise from the intensity of the climax.

price held you legs open further as he continued to thrust into you. your wetness costed all the way to his balls by the time he was giving his last few thrusts.

"good girl." he groaned, "lettin' me fill her up." then held onto your thighs as he finished in you.

for a moment you wondered if you took your birth control today. but in all honesty, it was a little too late for that. price was certainly not firing blanks.

his cock didn't grow soft after he finished. instead it fueled a new fire in him. now that he knew he could fit inside of you, how many loads would it take to fill you to the brim.

your brain was blank as he moved you to the next position.

by the end of the night, you were covered in sweat and your middle was a little firmer from the amount of captain john price's seed was inside of you.

even if you tried to get plan b in the morning, there wasn't enough of it in the world to protect you from the sheer amount of cum there was inside of you.

oops. <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #cod price #john price #captain john price #captain john price smut #john price smut #captain price #price cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #price call of duty #captain price smut #price x reader #price smut

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vbecker10 · 1 day

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Can you do one where reader and Loki have a really bad day and get into an arguement over the phone before they get home then someone attacks reader and she is stuck in an alleyway. Loki starts getting worried because she wasn't home for dinner so Loki goes to look for her and asks his brother and the avengers if they have seen her. He later finds her in an alley right outside unconscious? Ends in fluff?? Or something like that?

Running into Trouble

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You and Loki have recently started dating and get into a fight after you have both had a long, stressful day. You go out for a run to clear your head and end up being attacked, which is Loki's worst fear.

Warnings: arguing, very protective Loki, getting mugged / attacked (not shown), minor injuries, feeling weak, but not to worry there is a fluffy ending as requested

A/N: I love this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it. Also, I think running is evil but I'm this way about going for walks after work so that's kinda where the idea came from. Thanks so much for sending this! I hope you like it! 💚

Thanks @soubi001 for the title and letting me bounce ideas for the end off you! 🙂

"Come in," Loki answers when you knock on his office door. He looks up from the papers on his desk and smiles when he sees you. "Hello darling," he says happily as he gets up to meet you.

"I missed you," you tell him, putting your arms around him.

He chuckles, "I saw you half an hour ago."

"And yet, I still miss you," you smile up at him.

One of his hands rests on your lower back and he leans down, bringing his lips to yours. Your fingers gripping the fabric of his black dress shirt, you may have seen him a few times today but this is the first time you've kissed him since you left his room this morning.

"I should have you reassigned as my case agent," Loki offers with a smirk. "Then you will be stuck with me."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you ask, raising your eyebrow.

"A bit of both I imagine," he jokes. "I need to finish up a few things and then we can get dinner," he says, letting go of you to walk back towards his desk.

"Take your time, I'm gonna go for a short run," you say, adjusting your backpack to hint that your running clothes are inside.

"I wish you wouldn't," his playful tone vanishing instantly as he faces you again.

"I'll be fine," you wave off his concern like you always do. "The park is only a few blocks from here and it's not even dark yet."

"It will be dark by the time you are finished. Why can't you use the incredibly large, state of the art gym Stark is constantly raving about? It seems to be good enough for the super soldiers," he tries harder than usual to sell you the idea of the gym.

"You know I hate running inside. Treadmills are so boring, I feel like a hamster," you try not to whine but you're tired of having this conversation.

He chuckles at your reference and shakes his head. "They do have a track," he suggests even though he knows you dislike that too.

"Loki, it's sweet that you worry about me but you don't need to. I'll make it short, just half an hour," you walk slowly towards him but he seems unconvinced. "Then a quick shower and I'll be all yours," you put your arms around his neck and look up at him.

"All mine?" he asks, his smirk returning as his hands settle on your waist, pulling you close to him.

You giggle and hold eye contact with Loki, "Yep, all yours."

He leans down to kiss you, his hands keeping your body flush to his as his lips move against yours. When you break the kiss he touches your cheek lightly and says, "I will always worry about you, love. Please be safe and enjoy your run."

You check your watch for the third time and although it's already 5:45, it seems as if this meeting will never come to an end. It's your seventh and thankfully final meeting of the day but you aren't sure how much longer you can sit here for. Another hour later, Steve finally dismisses everyone and you head straight to the locker rooms in the gym. All you can think about is going outside, listening to music and running as hard as you can to let go of the stress that has built up throughout the day.

You get changed quickly then call Loki on speaker phone while putting on your sneakers. "Hello darling," he answers, the usual excitement you hear is missing from his voice.

"Hi Loki," you reply and take him off speaker as you get up from the bench. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry it's just been a very long day," he replies.

"Same," you tell him, checking that your keys and wallet are in your bag before putting it into the locker. "Do you want to get dinner when I'm back from my run?"

"You're going for a run now?" he asks. "It's almost 7."

You turn back suddenly and open the locker again to retrieve the gift Loki gave you last week, slipping it into your hoodie's pocket as you leave the room. "I know it's late but that last meeting went way over. Steve asked if anyone had questions and Scott had a ton, most of which were completely off topic of course," you complain, rolling your eyes. "It'll be short I promise. I just need to be outside for a bit."

"Y/N, just skip it tonight," he insists, sounding more annoyed than worried. "It's already dark."

"The park has lights," you reply quickly. You walk to the elevators and zip up your thin hoodie.

"I'm tired of you fighting me on this. Just run in the gym," his tone is stern, making it sound like an order not a suggestion.

"I don't like to run inside. You know that so stop telling me to do it," you feel aggravated by the conversation and his attitude towards you. When the elevator arrives you get in and tell him, "I'll be back in an hour, you can eat without me if you don't want to wait."

"I don't care about what time we eat, I care about you listening to me," he says firmly.

"I am listening to you but you aren't listening to me," you counter, your voice raising to match his. "You don't get it. I spend all day sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen, the window in my office doesn't even open. I need to go outside. I want to feel the breeze and see the sky so I can unwind."

"You are being ridiculous," he says, you can tell he is not going to give up his side of the argument any time soon.

"Seriously, I'm the one being ridiculous?" you ask as you reach the ground floor.

"Yes. What would you prefer? That I not worry about you?" he asks.

"Ugh! No, of course not but you can't just force me to stay inside," you try not to scream as you enter the lobby. "Why are you making this so difficult tonight?"

"Fine, I will make it easy for you. You want to run, go run," he says and you stop walking, shocked by his words and harsh tone. "You repeatedly ignore my concerns and dismiss my suggestions without a moment of consideration so why should I continue to voice my thoughts to you? Do whatever you want Y/N, you always do."

Before you can respond, Loki ends the call.

You look down at your phone, gripping it tightly. Your first instinct is to call Loki back and yell at him for hanging up on you, instead you take a deep breath and set your phone to do not disturb. Putting on your headphones, you select one of your favorite playlists and hit shuffle as you step out onto the sidewalk. You feel the cool fall breeze on your face and turn south towards the park.

Jogging slowly, you gradually make the music louder and louder to drown out your racing thoughts and Loki's harsh words. Your headphones beep when you adjust them again to alert you that they have reached their maximum volume. You sigh, leaving them as is for the first time in months, typically you made sure you limited the volume so you could still hear your surroundings but you want to block everything out tonight.

You enter the park from the same entrance as always and when your feet hit the loose gravel you pick up speed. The route you take through the park varies daily, picking random turns and directions based on how crowded it is or which path seems to call to you at the moment. You force away the meetings that filled your day, the piles of paperwork waiting for you in the morning and your fight with Loki. Your mind drifts, focusing on the music blasting through your headphones, the ground under your feet and how hard you are breathing in the brisk air.

Unfortunately, what you are not focused on is the three men who have been following you since your last turn.

Loki gets up from his couch and paces back and forth with his phone in his hand. You have only been gone for ten minutes but he knew the second he hung up that he had made a terrible mistake. He sighs, running his fingers through his hair then he texts you.

<I'm so sorry I spoke to you like that and I never should have hung up on you. I did not mean to start a fight. Can we talk when you get back? Please be safe.>

He hits send and stares at the screen waiting for you to reply. He knows your headphones can read you text messages and you always responded back using the voice to text function. It never failed to make him laugh, the texts you replied with were usually just a bit off since your phone could never quite understand you while you were running.

Another ten minutes pass without a reply from you so he tries again.

There was another reason he grew to like the voice to text function, you always responded immediately. You know how much he worries about you, so being able to quickly tell him where you were or when you were coming back put him at ease.

He sits heavily on his couch and after only two minutes pass, he stands up and calls you. Pacing again, he listens to it ring once then go directly to voicemail. His stomach drops instantly, you had either declined his call the second it rang or your phone was off.

He shakes his head, knowing your phone would never be off, you always listened to music when you ran. He calls you a second time but again it goes straight to voicemail. He doesn't bother to leave you a message, instead he leaves his room and heads down the hall as he tries for a third time to reach you.

"Thor, I need your help," Loki says with a touch of panic in his voice when he reaches the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" Thor asks, turning from his snack on the island.

"Y/N went for a run and she's not answering me," he tells his brother.

"Did you do something stupid?" Tony jokes as he closes the fridge.

"Yes, but that is not the point," Loki snaps, turning towards him. Tony's smile fades when he sees how serious Loki is. "She always answers, always. Something is wrong, I know it."

"Alright, just calm down," Tony says, trying to hide his growing concern. "She's probably just mad at you for whatever it is you did. Let me call her." Loki nods, hoping Tony is right but after only a few seconds, he looks at his phone and shakes his head. "She didn't answer," he confirms Loki's fear.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he wakes up the computer system in the Tower, "Get me a location for Y/N's phone now."

"Searching," it responds, Loki holds his breath nervously as it works. A moment later it answers, "The last known location for Y/N's phone is from 10 minutes ago. I cannot find a current location. The device has been switched off."

"No, she wouldn't do that," Loki insists, looking at his brother. "We need to find her."

"We will," Thor assures him, resting a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., get the team down here. We have an emergency," Tony tells the computer system. "Bring up a map of the park and Y/N's last known location. Overlay that with the route she takes when she runs." A large holographic map of the park appears in the air in front of Tony as he talks to the program.

"She takes a different route each time," Loki interrupts Tony and he nods.

"Ok, use the data from her phone's history to show the last three weeks on the map," he corrects himself. "Maybe we can see a pattern in where she runs, it would help us find her quicker than searching the whole damn park."

The team enters the park from the same entrance you use every day and then they quickly make their way towards your last known location. Thor and Loki turn south while Steve and Tony head north, calling your name as they move down each path. Clint, Scott and Natasha take the trail that leads east. SHIELD agents spilt off to show your picture to people in the park in the hopes that someone saw you.

"Loki, look," Thor stops suddenly and points to a thin trail of blood droplets.

"Y/N!" Loki calls again as they both pick up their pace, following the blood trail deeper into the park. The blood drops continue across the gravel and Loki's heart begins to pound wildly in his chest as they approach one of the stone tunnels. Just before the entrance to the underground pathway is a small pool of blood and Loki nearly trips at the sight of it under one of the street lights.

The two brothers slow their pace cautiously and Loki calls for you once more as they enter the tunnel. "Gods, she's here!" Loki tells Thor who immediately radios everyone your location and tells them they need to send the medical team.

Loki kneels next to your unconscious body, terrified that the blood they had followed is yours. He checks you carefully for injuries but you don't appear to be bleeding.

He breaths a small sigh of relief when you blink your eyes open and mumble, "Loki."

"I'm here," he whispers to you, your eyes briefly focus on him. "You're safe now, we're going to take you home." You try to nod but slowly slip back into unconsciousness. His hand moves to hold yours and he sees the small dagger he had given you still clutched tightly in your hand. The tip is covered in blood, but not yours and Loki is thankful for that.

You open your eyes slowly, unsure of where you are for a moment, the room seems so bright. You blink a few times until the room comes into focus, you realize your in the infirmary back at the Tower. Someone squeezes your hand gently and turn your head to see Loki sitting on a chair next to the bed.

"Hello darling," he says quietly. He smiles but you can see his eyes are full of worry. "How are you feeling?" You try to sit up and he puts his hand carefully on your shoulder to help. "Slowly," he tells you and you nod which causes the room to spin momentarily. "You don't have a concussion but Strange said you may be dizzy still from being knocked unconscious," he tells you when you close your eyes.

"What happened?" you open your eyes and ask instead of answering his initial question. Your memory of the night is filled with holes, fuzzy images and disconnected voices. The last thing you remember clearly was Loki hanging up on you in anger.

You watch nervously as his jaw tightens before he answers, "You were attacked in the park." You look away from him, feeling a wave of mixed emotions hit you at once. "There were three of them, we think. They stole your phone. J.A.R.V.I.S. is still sifting through the security footage from around the park, there were no cameras in the section where I found you," he says.

You don't respond to the knowledge that you had been attacked in the one place you felt most relaxed in the city. Slowly, you pull your hand free from Loki's as your thoughts begin to race. He had been right, you realize.

"Y/N, look at me, please," he says, trying to get your attention.

"Why?" you ask, looking up, your memory of his last words to you blend with your own negative thoughts. "So you can tell me that I should have listened to you? Fine, you were right. I'm just some weak human and I can't protect myself. Are you happy now?"

He touches your arm and you fight the urge to pull away again. "Y/N, how could you possibly think this would make me happy? I never wished for you to be hurt. This isn't a game and it is not some sort of win for me," he tells you and you can hear the hurt in his voice.

"You did win though, cause now I'll never run there again. I'll use the stupid gym like you always tell me to," you inform him, crossing your arms against your chest. You uncross them and look at your hands for the first time since you woke up, seeing a few small bruises forming along your knuckles. You raise your hand to lightly touch where your cheek is the most painful and Loki stops you, taking your hand carefully in his.

"You have quite a substantial bruise there, it will take a few weeks to heal," he tells you. "You didn't need any stitches though," he adds. "Your ribs and back have bruises as well, so it may hurt to sit up or lay down for the time being. Thankfully you don't have any severe injuries, Strange assured me that you only need rest and you will feel better in a few days."

While he describes your injuries, you let him continue to hold your hand but you avoid his eyes. "That's good," you mumble in response.

"You will be running again in no time," he says encouragingly.

"Loki, just stop it. I'm tired. Please, just say you told me so and get it over with so I can rest," you tell him.

He sighs, "No." You slowly lift your head then he continues, "I cannot describe the sheer panic I felt when I couldn't reach you. My worst fear is that something might happen to you while you are away from me and then it did and..." his voice trails off and he takes a deep breath.

"I was not right about anything," he tells you.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"We both know you will be unhappy running inside," he says and you nod in agreement.

"I didn't realize how much running through the park means to you, especially after such a long day. I know you need it to unwind and calm you, I shouldn't have kept trying to change that part of you. The last thing I want is for you to give up something you love because of me," he tells you. "Or because of those pathetic mortals who hurt you."

"At least I would be safe running in the gym," you feel like giving up.

"So what am I supposed to do?" you ask him.

Loki is quiet for a few moments then he smiles and offers, "How about I run with you?"

"You hate running," you laugh and it makes your side ache.

"I do," he quickly agrees, "But I like you."

You pretend to be surprised, "You like me?"

"Very, very much," he clarifies and kisses your forehead.

"I appreciate the offer but it will be no fun if you're miserable," you say, squeezing his hand. "And stop making me laugh, it hurts."

You laugh again, holding your side in pain and smack his arm lightly. "Are you kidding? Do you know how fast they jog? At a full sprint I wouldn't be able to keep up."

"Sorry," he kisses the back of your hand. "How about you take a super soldier with you? They seem to enjoy it."

"You already gave me one of these," you remind him.

"Fair point," he says then he is quiet again and you can almost see his mind working to come up with a solution. "How about this?" He holds out his hand and a small dagger with a black leather handle appears in a flash of green light.

"Yes and from what we can tell so far, you used it exceptionally well," he praises you, making you blush.

"I think I did okay for having no idea what I was doing," you respond.

"Which is why I want to train you on how to use it properly. And I need you to promise that you will always answer me when you are running."

"I can do that," you smile and he smiles in return. "Now I need you to do one thing for me."

"Anything, darling," he promises.

"Can you hold me?" you ask. "I really am very tired."

"Of course," he answers. He carefully climbs onto the bed next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes. "I'm so glad you are okay," he says then he waves his hand to turn off the brightest of the over head lights. He pulls the sheet up to cover you better and you snuggle against him as best you can without hurting your side.

You listen to Loki's slow, steady breathing and feel yourself drifting off quickly. His fingers run slowly through your hair and for the first time in your relationship, he whispers, "I love you."

You smile against his shoulder and whisper back, "I love you, too."

The next afternoon Loki leaves the Tower and begins the twenty minute walk south, following the directions he received from J.A.R.V.I.S. He enters the apartment building and climbs the five flights with his fists clenched. Checking the address again, he turns left down the hall, looking around at the peeling paint and worn carpet. He pauses in front of the door at the end of the hall, listening to the raised voices inside.

"Here's your cut," a man with deep voice says. "I know it's not much but that's all I could get for the phone."

"This is bullshit," someone else responds. "All those tourists and we jump the only person who didn't even have a wallet."

A third voice complains, "I still think I should get more than you two idiots. That bitch stabbed me and I'm only gonna get fifty freaking bucks."

Loki's dark green dress shirt and black pants are replaced by his leather armor and gold horned crown in a cloud of green smoke. The man tries to slam the door shut but Loki catches it easily with one hand. Your attacker backs into the apartment and Loki follows slowly.

A smile slowly spreads across Loki's lips, knowing that he is in the right place. He knocks on the door and waits. A tall, thin man opens it, his attention focused on the other men inside still talking. "Shut up," the one at the door says then he turns to Loki and he goes still in an instant.

Once inside, he slams the door shut with a wave of his hand as the other two men get up. "What the fu-" one of them starts to ask but Loki shakes his head and silences him.

"You three hurt someone I care for very deeply, and that simply won't do," he says. The green glow from his magic seeps out from under the door and out into the hallway.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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venusblakes · 6 hours

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— ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝓳ust want you ◞ rafe cameron !

◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ ꒱ after a big argument, rafe comes to win you back.￨female reader x rafe cameron . longer version + part two to this blurb , mild language , mentions of; abandonment issues, insecurity issues, and jealousy !

authors note, the ending kinda sucks bc i didn’t know what to do with it, but i hope that this is good for the people that wanted a part two! <3

you’ve been home in bed all day, head pounding and your eyes sore from how much you’ve cried, you felt absolutely miserable.

you hadn’t slept a wink the night prior, and all you could do was sit there and sob as his words replayed over and over again like a broken record in your mind.

how could he say that to you? did he really think of you as just some ‘dirty pogue’ as he called it? and how could he possibly of thought you would step out on him, you, the girl that defended him time and time again, loved and accepted every part of him, i mean hell, you of all people?

how could he?

and thank god, your family was out of town for the weekend, because not only did you feel absolutely horrible, but you looked it too, and you didn’t feel like having to explain yourself.

you hadn’t charged your phone either, almost immediately after leaving rafe’s place it died and you saw no reason to plug it in, because knowing rafe, you’d have hundreds if not thousands of messages from him.

you didn’t even know what you were with him anymore, if you were together, if you’re now single, if you’re on a break, you didn’t know and quite frankly you didn’t want to find out

but giving him back the promise ring he gave you definitely meant something big, something that you would have to face eventually, even if right now you didn’t know exactly what that was,

after what felt like another hour or so you finally decided to get up to get some medicine, since your headache was only getting worse

throwing your comforter off of you, you stood up and walked lazily out of your bedroom and downstairs, and rounding the corner to the kitchen, you’re quick to open the cupboard and grab the bottle of ibuprofen, twisting the cap and shaking the bottle until two of the pills popped out and landed in your hand

throwing your head back you toss the pills back and twist the cap back on the bottle, setting it down on the counter, knowing you’ll need it again

you make your way to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bottle of water, cracking it open and taking a few gulps to swallow the medicine, and just as you’re finished, you hear the front door slam open, which causes you to flinch and nearly drop the bottled water

within seconds, rafe’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen, you stood still, taking in his disheveled look, huge bags under his glossy eyes, tear stained cheeks flushed, and still wearing the same clothes from the night before

he sighes in relief upon seeing you, opening his mouth to speak but quickly shutting as he sees your eyes weld up with tears

slamming the bottle of water down on the counter you quickly make your way out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your sobs as you attempted to run back upstairs, but you were too slow as rafe caught up to you, his hand on your arm pulling you back,

“hold on,” he sighed, “let me explain,”

still turned away from him you shake your head, sighing deeply, “no, get out.”

“baby,” he whispers, as his voice was strained from all the screaming the night before

“just, leave me alone.” you sigh, you feel as his grip on your arm loosens and you quickly tear it away and make your way upstairs

rafe stands at the end of the staircase, lowering his head as he silently curses to himself, he hears as your bedroom door slams shut and he sighes

once you’re back in the serenity of your bedroom you finally allow yourself to break down, sobbing harshly as you collapse on your bed, your pained cries now muffled by your soft bedsheets

half of you is hoping, no, begging that he just gives up and leaves, and never comes around again but the other half just wants him to come upstairs, open your bedroom door and crawl up into bed with you and hold you as you cried

all you wanted was for things to be okay again, but you couldn’t even begin to think of where to start

after awhile, you’ve stopped sobbing and just resulted to laying down, staring blankly out at the birds sitting on the tree brand outside of your bedroom window,

eventually you heard the creaking sound of your bedroom door which made you roll your eyes and cuddle your face deeper in the pillow,

“please talk to me.”

rafe stood awkwardly at your doorway, awaiting your answer but soon realized he wasn’t going to get one, which made him sigh

“fine, i’ll talk.” he says, stepping into your bedroom and taking a seat on the edge of your bed, letting out a deep breath

“i didn’t mean what i said, i was just-”

he pauses, “i didn’t mean it, okay?”

“i was just upset, and-and i took it out on you.”

you’re surprised to hear him open up and attempt to talk through this with you, since in all the years you’ve been together he’s never been one to want to talk through the problems first, it’s always been you, with him following after you, but you still didn’t turn around, your gaze on the window

“why are you here,” the question was stated more rudely than you had anticipated, but you didn’t bother to correct yourself

“i needed to tell you i was sorry.”

you scoffed, “sorry for calling me a dirty pogue?”

hearing you repeat his own words back to him made him cringe, he’s said those words plenty of times about the pogues before but hearing it this time felt like a knife to the chest,

“i didn’t mean you,” he says, “i was talking-”

“you were talking about my friends.” you said, cutting him off “saying that we can’t trust people like them,” you added, turning to look at him

your vision became blurry as you continued to speak, “you make pogues seem like animals, rafe.”

“and don’t try to sit here and say that i’m different, because we both know that i’m just as much of a pogue as the the rest of them.”

rafe sighed, bending down and placing his head in his hands, “i know.” he muttered “i know that,”

“i didn’t mean it, i was upset, and angry.” he added, “i know that they’re your friends, and that they’re a big part of your life.”

“and i know that i need to learn to live with that and i need to start accepting every aspect of you and your life.”

finally, you turn to look at him, “what about the cheating thing,” you asked, “how could you ever think that i would do that to you?”

rafe sits up, turning to face you, “i-i don’t.”

“i know you would never do that,” he sighes, “i just-when i saw jj with his arms wrapped around you like that, i lost it.”

“i guess,” he pauses, “i guess i was just worried you’d choose him over me.”

by now he had tears streaming down his face and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him, and against your better judgement you sit up, opening your arms and motioning for him to come closer

rafe almost jumps at the opportunity, quickly kicking off his shoes and climbing up towards you

as soon as your arms wrap around his shoulders and his face hits your chest, he lets out the biggest sigh of relief, moving his arms up under you and squeezing you, “i’m so sorry.”

“i can’t lose you.” he mumbles, turning his head to press a soft and gentle kiss to your neck, you sigh, “i’m sorry too.”

“i’m sorry for walking out on you.” you add, your hand running over his head, your nails scratching his scalp softly,

he lifts his head from your chest and leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, moaning softly at the taste of you, and as always you’re melting against him, you wrap your arms back around his shoulders and hold him close as your lips moved against his, but eventually he pulls away, and presses his forehead against yours, the both of you breathing heavily

he pulls his hand out from under you and reaches into his pocket and pulls out your promise ring

“let me make another promise to you?” he asks, and you smile softly, “yeah.” you whisper

#( ⟢. venusblakes )#. 𓂃ෆ kaela writes.#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #drew starkey

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gardenofnoah · 3 days

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note: for my dearly beloved @bunnions now that it’s been read and we are Emotionally Processing. Bunny I LOVE you and I am so grateful that you wanted to read more of my silly little words. <3

wc: 8.2k tags: Bakugou x Bunny (bakubun supremacy), childhood friends to strangers to lovers, SOME angst (happy ending), minor injury (is just a little scrape on the playground, it’s okay), light smut, redemption/making amends

-Today-

Bakugou Katuski was born to fight. Blessed with his mother’s quick tongue and quicker anger, it was never in his nature to shy away from what writhed, violent and hard, inside of him–to brandish it like a weapon, no matter the target. As an adult, Katuski finds he’s turned the weapon on himself and it’s different. This fight is one that does not seem to have an end, and while it’s not in his nature to quit–he’s sure as hell thought about it.

On the precipice of 30, just about everything is a fight if he’s honest with himself. But with that also comes some pride–he is a kicked dog reformed, and he hasn’t lost yet. That’s what he tells himself every morning, when the sunlight cuts through the window and pulls him from somewhere else–somewhere softer and a little kinder. When he opens his eyes despite the sting, it is another reminder of his own grit–of the ways he has fought to win another groggy morning.

There is a mechanical efficiency to this ritual that he’s gotten down to a science by now–the way he pulls himself from his sheets, the four minute shower that tells his brain it’s time to wake up, the coffee that he’s never liked (but now it’s either a bitter taste in his mouth or a splitting headache–the former feels like the easier route, and he feels he’s owed at least one of those), the 10 minutes of stretching before the 30 minute jog through familiar neighborhoods. Sometimes he’ll stall and make it an hour, doubling back to over the same sidewalks with a new perspective. Or at least he tries to–to him, it’s the same damn street any way you look at it.

He does all of these things with a commitment he’d expected to earn back by now–like there would be some karmic gift to taking care of himself that would magically fix him. And truthfully he has benefitted from consistency, but there is still an empty space somewhere inside him. To be meticulous in planning his days has not fulfilled him the way he wanted it to–he makes his breakfast and he pushes his body to its limit and he calls his mother as often as he can manage and he still thinks of you.

Katsuki has stability, and that is a new and welcome thing. Hard won and much deserved, he’s worked for it– and the people around him evidently agree, if Kirishima’s heavy arm around his shoulders and weepy compliments of how far he’s come anytime they’re out for drinks is an indication of that. Katsuki can see it, too–the fact that he only thinks about knocking Eijiro out a little bit when the big moron is yowling in his ear like that is progress in and of itself. That Katuski now has a whole horde of friends that regularly and willingly gather around with and for him is more than he ever imagined he’d have, and he’s grateful for it.

It was effort, of course–the years it took for him to make those long-overdue amends weigh heavily on him still, and it took even longer for that burden to feel anything but crushing. To let anyone near his underbelly was uncomfortable at best, but to be alone was worse, and Katsuki has never been a quitter. Except for when it comes to you.

Katsuki can’t admit to himself that he has given up, but he also can’t get himself to do anything about this silence that trails after him like a ghost. It’s infuriating because it’s just you, and he knows that that's exactly the reason he’s stuck in this constant game of will-he-or-won’t-he with himself, though he already knows the outcome. It’s just not one he can accept, so he tortures himself instead– he sees the concern on his friends’ faces over the way he tears himself apart and takes it as a personal failing, because it’s just you, and all he has to do is tell you he’s sorry.

Except he can’t do that. Because if he told you he was sorry, he’d have to tell you why–and then he’d have to tell you everything. Katsuki has never been a liar and knows that it might be the truth of it all that still holds him together (if there was ever a lamer excuse for holding out for something as silly as hope like this, he’s not aware of it). But his fingers bled with all of that stitching himself back together. It feels counterintuitive at best to unravel himself all over again for you.

You’d been the needle, and the thread. Another truth he could never bear to tell you.

-Six-

Katsuki doesn’t know what to do when he finds you curled in on yourself inside the fluorescent orange tunnel. The echoes of palms and knees moving through the plastic above his head reverberate through his body, but he can’t focus on any of it–his eyes are glued instead to the injury you’re crouched over–a scraped elbow, red and angry.

“Bunny?”

You sniff, and it raises goosebumps on his arms. “Pushed m–me.”

Your voice is tinny and distorted inside the tunnel. He’s suddenly filled with more anger than his six year old brain can wrap itself around. He puffs up his cheeks and turns from you, stomping his way out of the plastic that he’s not even tall enough to touch the top of.

He finds them easily enough–two of them, older than him by at least three years, targeting some other poor little kid. They’re circled around him like sharks. Katsuki only sees the shorter one step forward–arms extended, grinning as if his cruelty is a game–and then he blinks, and everything is different.

He blinks, and their target is gone–the two older ones are at his feet, the taller one barely holding back tears as he crouches over a bloody knee.

“Katsuki Bakugou–what the hell are you doing?”

He’s already fighting his mother before she has a full grip on his elbow, dragging him off the playground. He’s not listening–he just wants to go see if you’re okay.

“Oi–stop, you can’t just throw people down like that–”

“They pushed her!”

It’s nearly a screech and the first words he’s said since he parted from you. Startled, his mother lets him go–he doesn’t spare her a second glance, off like a shot toward your tunnel. He feels the heat of the sun-baked plastic, too hot on his palms, but it barely registers as he crawls in next to you.

“S’okay,” he says quietly, trying to coax you out of the pretzel you've contorted yourself into. He reaches the pocket of his superhero shorts and fishes out a singular bandaid, crinkled up and a little dirty and too small for the wound on your arm. He waits for you to peer up at him before he unwraps it, and presses it to your scrape. You wince.

“I’ll fix it,” he says, tongue poking out of the gap between his teeth as he smooths the bandage over your skin, “s’okay.”

-Today-

Katsuki isn’t necessarily a glutton for punishment–it just feels like the most effective form of conditioning.

His lungs burn–breath hitching with every stride he takes down the sidewalk. He pushes himself to go a little longer, to run a little faster, and the exhilaration that comes with the way his body listens to him thrills him enough to keep him moving.

Later his joints will be sore–when he stays at the gym far too long and strains himself to fatigue, his body will revolt in the ways that are familiar to him. A natural consequence to crossing a boundary. But for now it’ll hold out–it’ll hold up to the beating he forces it to take, all for his own improvement. For something else, too.

Physical strength is something he understands. He gets back what he puts into it–he lifts a heavy thing to lift something heavier. He feels the feverish drum of his heart as he pushes himself through another mile and knows that he will be stronger for it. There is the promise of longevity there–a clear reason to continue to work hard.

Emotional stuff is not in Katuski’s wheelhouse. He runs through every action he’s ever taken ad nauseam and nothing changes–he still feels as stagnant and frustrated as he ever did, and he’s no closer to reaching out to you than he was years ago. He can tell himself to just do it but there is no amount of repetition or discipline that will train his brain into allowing himself to pick up the phone and dial the number he still knows by heart. He doesn’t know what else to do, and he hates that, so he defaults to what he knows–to push his body further, with the hope that his brain may one day follow suit.

On autopilot, he rounds the corner across from the bodega with the Spanish rice that Sero won’t stop talking about, and nearly takes an elderly woman off her feet. He skids to a stop, out of breath as he asks nearly a hundred times if she’s alright.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says with a chuckle, swatting him playfully with a gloved hand, “You just gave an old girl a fright, is all.”

“Y’sure?” he says, pointedly eyeing the cane that shakes under her fingers.

She tuts, rolling her eyes like he’s being ridiculous. “Yes, yes. Don’t let me keep you!”

Katuski nods, helping her back inside the shop she’d been walking toward. He knows her, he realizes. Not in any significant way, but he's certain he's blown past her cotton white mass of hair on his jogs down the sidewalk. “Sorry about that, granny.”

She waves him off and this time he lets her, thinking a little too hard about how easy it might be to take him off his feet when he reaches that age. He picks up the jog at an albeit slower pace. He gets a good five strides ahead before he’s stopped again in his tracks.

This time, by you.

He feels like he’s seeing a ghost, and probably looks like it too, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk like this. There’s no force on earth that could get him to move–not away from you, and certainly not toward you.

So he’s stuck where he is, watching you cross the street–the damn sun personified, smiling to every stranger that breezes past you–with a heavy moving box in your arms. Hair tied back at the nape of your neck, there’s nothing obstructing his view from the way each grin stretches into your cheeks and suddenly he feels a little sick. You pass in front of him, carrying too much and unaware of his lingering, 20 feet to your right. Then you’re inside and out of his view.

Someone brushes past him, startling the breath back into his lungs. It’s a gasping thing, and he can only focus on the expansion of his lungs in his chest to get him back on this plane of existence. He feels outside of himself–like seeing you has drop kicked him out of his body. He has no control of his feet that carry him toward the building you slipped into, despite all the screaming his mind subjects him to. There’s a war inside him and yet, he walks the half step to the door and pushes it open.

“Welcome in–oh.”

And then you’re looking at him with eyes that haven’t changed and he feels very sick–so much so that he can’t say anything. He just stands there, sweating and out of breath and damn terrified of the other half of his heart, staring back at him for the first time in years.

“Katsuki?”

And god, does he wish he’d turned around when he had the chance, because how unfair it is to have to hear you say his name like that. To see you look at him with only mild confusion and none of the disdain that he would’ve expected. Elbows propped on the counter in front of you, you show none of the tension he so palpably feels in every muscle of his body.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, and it’s painful. It’s all he can do to move his mouth around the words.

“Hey, Bunny.”

You give him the same splitting grin that you always did and it nearly knocks him on his ass. “What are you doing here?”

That’s a great question–he’s not looked around until now, and he has no idea where he is. There are framed art prints all over the dark walls, and dried flowers take up the spaces between them. There are some books, some knick knack looking things–his brain can’t process any of it.

“Uh–” trying to get his bearings, trying to come up with an answer that’s not I followed you in here after watching you on the street–

“You want a tour?” you ask him with a knowing smile, and he can only nod. You round the counter and then you’re next to him, and he feels your proximity like you hold a match to his skin. He has to fight to focus on your words–he wishes he would’ve clicked on any one of those “train your brain with this one trick” ads as he hears every third word and fights to connect the dots. Gallery, book vendors, display window. Something about a delivery schedule.

“These are all by a local artist,” you say, gesturing to a fourth of the wall in front of you, “I try to cycle them out as much as I can.”

He clings on to the last bit. “This is your place?”

Your eyes shift back to him, and you smile. It’s one of pride. “It is.”

He puts a pin in that–wholly interested in whatever could’ve led you here, but the latter part of that is a blinking neon sign in his brain.

“That mean you live around here?” He hates himself for sounding so hopeful–because what right does he have to that?

“Yeah, actually, I live down on our old street.” You say it like it doesn’t tilt his whole world on its axis. Like he can picture anything but running down a snow covered, lamp lit side street with your gloved hand in his. “You know that building next to the Thai place?”

He nods, and it’s all he can do. Of course he does. He remembers the old woman that lived in the first floor apartment–she’d yell down the street at the two of you to take some of the cookies she’d made to your mothers. He wonders if you keep plants in that front window, too.

You hum, choosing to move on–turning on your heel and pointing out the built-in shelves that curve over the arch of the front door.

He has the sudden and overwhelming urge to get the hell out of here.

“I, uh–” he says, clearing his throat a little too loud, “got something to do.”

“Oh,” you say, your smile faltering only a little. He wants to punch himself square in the face. “Of course. It was nice to see you, Katsuki.”

The nod is terse and automatic–all his brain power dedicated to timing his steps so that he doesn’t sprint out of your shop.

He walks–straight past the gym, where he meant to go–and doesn’t stop until his feet carry him through the threshold of his apartment. He ends up flat on his back in his tiny living room, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the way your canine tooth still pokes at your bottom lip the way it did when you were smaller and learning to ride a bike. He drags a hand down his face–some vain attempt of scrubbing the memory from his brain.

If nothing else, he knows what parts of the city to avoid now.

-Thirteen-

Katsuki feels weird. It’s not a new feeling–but it’s wholly unwelcome and an inconvenience at best. His body feels weird, too–he finds hair in places it wasn’t before and his voice does that god awful thing that embarrasses the hell out of him and he’s also been…having dreams.

You tend to be the star of them–which isn’t atypical, but usually in his dreams, he’s building a snow fort with you or reliving that time you accidentally swallowed a bug when you were 5. But now, his dreams make him acutely and uncomfortably aware of the changes in your body–the way your hips curve where they hadn’t before, the new swell of your chest, the way you smell a little different than you did before, how you’re often a full body, deep shade of red around him now–

He wakes up sticky and embarrassed more often than not.

It makes him want to avoid you–really, he'd do anything to stop the dreams and the feeling under his skin when you’re too close to him (or not close enough)–but he can’t. Not fully, anyway. He’s drawn to you like a magnet. He feels frustrated, and the only way he knows how to cope with that frustration right now is to get angry about it.

He takes out his anger on the younger and weaker–by now he’s forgotten the way those boys looked when they pushed you down at the park. The meaner he gets, the more revered he is by his peers, and that feels good. He doesn’t remember the way your tears beaded fat and fell down your cheeks in the way that the targets of his bullying shed them now. He slams a locker that someone has just opened and earns hoots and hollers from the boys around him, and to Katsuki, any praise is good praise.

He starts picking fights with his mother and antagonizing his teachers. He spends most afternoons in the principal’s office and he gets tired of the disapproval–of the disappointment that so palpably radiates from everyone around him. He does things he wouldn’t have considered before–skipping class and staying out past curfew (even if it’s just to loiter on the sidewalk of the next block over). He feeds off the energy of the group around him–someone makes a poor decision, and the rest follow. It feels good, to not feel any sense of inhibition. Everything else is fucked up and weird, but this is what he can control.

His one hang up is you.

Other students begin to avoid him in the halls-especially when he is flanked by one or two others. It feeds into his own sense of superiority–makes him puff out his chest and carry his head high on his shoulders. So high that he walks right past you.

“Hey!”

Your shout startles him out of his bravado. He turns and instantly deflates–one of his friends leers above you, holding your bookbag above your head, out of your reach.

He’s immediately filled with an anger that feels so familiar but he can’t place it. His vision dulls around the peripheral–focused in on you and the furrow of your eyebrows. Feeling, for the first time in a long while, some sense of injustice for what is happening around him.

Before he knows it, his fist connects with the soft remnant of baby fat that still exists under his friend’s ribcage. He drops, and so does your bookbag–Katsuki reaches over his writhing body to grab it and hand it back to you. He looks at you then–and is startled by what he sees on your face.

It’s a mix of shock and fear, and something else. Something like sadness, or what he'd later come to know as grief.

“Thanks, Katsuki.”

You sound quieter than he’s used to, and you don’t look at him when you take your bag from him. You sling it over your shoulder and turn on your heel, not bothering to say goodbye to him. He watches you go.

“Dude,” a cough from below him, “what the fuck–”

Katsuki looks down at the huddle of limbs below him with all of the disdain that he can muster. “Leave her alone,” he says. He walks away too, leaving his friend behind—not for the last time.

-Today-

Despite all of Katsuki’s attempts to avoid you, he sees you everywhere.

Except he can’t even really call them attempts. He supposes it’d be the opposite, because now he’s picked a new jogging route–which happens to be down the street you both grew up on. The one you’ve now made a home on.

He’s also managed to time it at exactly the time you head out to go to work. He nearly comes out of his skin the first time you call out to him. Like he wasn't expecting you to.

“Good morning,” you beam at him, having caught him right as he passed you on the sidewalk. He feels like you’ve trapped him there–which is odd, because he could just turn and continue his jog.

He doesn’t care to think too hard about why can’t physically get himself to do that.

“You want to come up?” you ask him, completely unaware of the agony inside him right now, “I just put on coffee–”

“No.” It’s gruff and too quick, and he sees you startle a bit. “I–uh. Have some shit to do this morning.”

You relax–and appear to be fighting off something like a grin, something a little too knowing for his comfort.

“Next time, then,” you tell him, pulling the door to your building shut behind you. “Have a good day, Katsuki.”

Next time comes very soon.

He did it to himself, really–there could only be so many times he meets you at your stoop at the exact moment you open the door before it stops being excused as a coincidence.

It's embarrassing at the very least and borderline obsessive behavior at its worst, but you don't bring it up–he's grateful for that, but also a little skeptical. You just invite him in again, and this time, he follows you through the door.

He's not sure what he was expecting. Really, it was silly to think that you'd have decorated your space according to your taste when you were seventeen, but he's surprised to find little bits of the person he knew you to be back then, scattered around your apartment. There's no mistaking the way your style has grown with you, though. It shouldn't be shocking to him that your home looks like a fully fleshed out, adult space, but it does. Weird.

"Offer's still there for coffee, if you want any."

You're watching him survey the place, hip leaned up against the entryway to the kitchen. The morning sun streams in through a window behind you, backlighting you in a warm glow.

Right. Why would it not?

Katsuki pulls himself together to nod at you, all the rigidity he'd tried to rid himself of still fully there. You smile and turn on your heel like you hadn't noticed.

Alone for the moment, he keeps looking. It feels a little invasive, but he can't stop. He needs to know about you, about the ways that you changed without him. He finds himself searching for the songs you like, the movies you watch, the hobbies you have. Who were you this whole time?

He walks slowly past a small, wooden shelf holding novels he's never heard of. The top cover is nondescript and gives him no hints as to what it could be about, but the spine is so worn that he knows you've read it more than once. He logs the title for...later. He's not actually sure why he's so fixated on it, but it freaks him out. He moves on.

There are frames all over the walls–art and dried flowers and a napkin with a note on it and in the middle of it all, a picture from a time he remembers. You and your kid sister in your matching pink overalls that used to embarrass you, but mostly because people mistook you for the younger sibling in them the most. Your face is painted like a tiger, and your front tooth is missing. He remembers this exact day, actually, because he's next to you in this picture.

"She never wants to match with me anymore."

He nearly jumps out of his skin. You pay him no mind, smiling softly at the picture. He tries to recover. "How is she–I, uh–"

"Doing? The same. Quiet still. My favorite person in the world."

He feels it in his chest and knows that it's true. He finds himself grateful that you've been loved this whole time. He also finds himself a little too aware of his own loneliness in a way that makes him want to leave. But you stand in his way now, coffee held out to him in your hands. He takes it and feels intensely grateful your fingers don't brush.

"You run every morning?"

The coffee burns his tongue and he fights the flinch, covering it with an affirming grunt.

"That's admirable. I think I'd have a hard time with a routine like that."

You don't mean anything by it. You couldn't mean anything by it, and yet he is reminded of the reason he has this routine. He is reminded of the person he was without this routine. And he needs to go right now.

He makes another excuse of having something he needs to do, and he doesn't look at your face when he leaves.

-Today-

You find yourself back in the old neighborhood bar on a Friday night, with none other than Kirishima Eijiro.

Eijiro has always been kind. When you ran into him on the sidewalk (literally, the wall of a man that he is), it was an easy yes when he'd asked you to catch up. You're not at all surprised to hear about his marriage, nor his baby on the way. It's fitting, you think. He'll be a great father, a great husband.

He asks about you, and you tell him about the gift shop. You tell him about moving away and it not feeling right–about the way it felt to be away from your sister. You tell him about your writing, and about the way your life is quiet and beautiful and your own.

There's just one thing that's bothering you.

“Tell me something,” you whisper lowly to the redhead, who leans in to listen. “What on earth is wrong with Katsuki?”

There’s a flash of something across his face, and then he’s back to feigning nonchalance. “Ah, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

You level him with a look. “Eijiro.”

He sighs, sitting back in his seat. “Alright, alright. I do know what you’re talking about, but it’s not my business to tell.”

You cross your arms across your chest, eyebrow raised. He only laughs.

“Jeez, you’re scary. All I can say is he feels guilty about how he left things between you.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, lady. He’s been holding onto it for a while.”

“Why?”

He only shrugs, taking another sip from the drink in front of him. You think it might be yours, but you don’t have it in you to tell him–whatever gets you an answer. “He’s worked really hard. I’m proud of him. He just,” he gestures into the empty space with the glass like it holds the words he’s looking for, “didn’t know how to reach out, I think.”

“That’s stupid.”

The redhead laughs, warm and open like he always was. It feels nostalgic, in a way. You’d never had much opportunity to spend time with Eijiro, and you feel a little sad about that. He’s good. You were glad that, in the time you’d been absent from his life, Katsuki had been able to find a friend like him.

“As tough as he seems, I think it tears him up to know that someone he cares about is upset with him.”

You gape at him. “He thinks I’m mad at him?”

Eijiro grins at you over the rim of the glass. With the most emphasized discretion and a wink, he slides his phone to you, screen-side up. Katsuki's contact. “Yep. He’s a baby.”

-Seventeen-

At seventeen, Katsuki understands what it means to regret something for the first time. You sit in front of him in tears, and he feels that regret so deeply that he thinks he might be sick.

“You’re so mean, Katsuki.”

Your voice is so uncharacteristically quiet he almost has to strain to hear it. You don’t look at him–and he panics, because he’s never known you to be near him and not looking at him.

“You’re a crybaby,” he says, and he means it lightly–he expects you to laugh, and to make a jab at him back–but the crease between your eyebrows gets deeper and your chin wobbles and suddenly the walls are closing in around him.

“Bunny, I–”

“I have to go.” And then you’re gone.

Your footsteps ricochet off the walls and inside his head until his teeth ache with it. He doesn’t understand what the hell just happened–or why he can’t ever seem to stop his mouth from running out in front of him, just out of his reach.

There’s nothing else to do but go home. For the first time since he’d learned to drive, his passenger seat sits empty.

“Morning!”

You sound chipper when you sit down next to him, which confuses the hell out of him until he looks up at you and sees the way your smile is brief, and strained at best.

The shame crawls up his throat and clamps down on any attempt at reciprocation. It’s all he can do to force out a grunt of acknowledgement. You don’t say anything else.

Class ends, and he doesn’t wait for you. He is up and out of the room before you even stand from your seat.

There is something very cowardly that lives in Katsuki. He hadn’t known about it until now–and now he feels settled into it. Like it’s known him all his life.

He’s ignoring you. That’s what it is, no matter how many other ways his mind tries to spin it. It’s been 3 months since he made you cry and now it feels too late–like any attempt at speaking to you would just be inappropriate–so he doesn’t. He knows he’s a coward and he can see that it hurts you. Your texts start dwindling–where you used to chat with him throughout the day (often to his chagrin), your name comes across his phone once every few weeks, and then not at all. He reads every message, and he replies to none.

But then he gets busy–preparation for graduation and moving out and on and making something of himself–and a year passes. You still say hello to him when you see him. You’re still kind to him, which that in itself he cannot understand. There’s an obvious rift, though. You don’t seek him out anymore. And he can’t blame you.

He knows you’re alright, though, if your social media posts are anything to go by. You’ve made other friends, and every picture of the corners of your mouth drawn back in that familiar grin feels like a wound. He feels guilty about that, too–about the ways in which he grieves a spot in your life that he is no longer entitled to.

-Today-

He doesn’t touch a single step on the way up to your place–he’s not even sure he’s opened the door so much as kicked the fucking thing down just to get to you. You in danger–you hurt and needing him and–

Standing there. Whole and unharmed, fingers stained red only with the strawberry you have halfway to your mouth. Hip propped against the counter, you look relaxed–certainly not in any peril–

His exhale is sharp–forced, as the relief bleeds into irritation. “What the fuck, Bunny–”

“No, you, what the fuck,” you say, hands on your hips. His eyes have no choice but to follow them, and he realizes you have his sweatpants on. “What is wrong with you?”

They’d be floods on him now, but they fit you in a way that would make him believe they were yours if he didn’t know any better. Worn in, like you’d been wearing them this whole time. A relic from some sport he played way back when–where you wearing them felt inconsequential then, it feels monumental now, after how he treated you. He can’t wrap his mind around the way there could still be any possibility of a space carved out for himself in your life.

“Why did y’act like you were fuckin’ dying’?”

“Would you have come otherwise?”

That gives him pause–because he’s not sure what answer you’re looking for. “I–”

“You,” you cut him off with a step closer to him–he takes one back, toward the still open door. “Have been avoiding me. What did I do?”

“It’s not–you didn’t do anything–”

“So what is it?”

It’s quiet, then–and somehow the weight of his absence is more crushing than it’s ever been. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly–trying to slow the locomotive beat of his heart.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, looking down at a spot on the floor. He hates himself for not being able to look at you. He hates that after all of these years, this is the extent of his bravery.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Was shitty to you,” he drags a hand down his face and forces himself to look at you. Forces himself to keep your eyes for at least three seconds before the panic rears up and he has to look away again. “When we were kids.”

But now he’s frustrated–because that can’t be all he has to offer you. Years, and sorry I was an asshole is all he has to say? At this point in his life, after all of the work he has put in, it feels unacceptable to him.

He just can’t think of another thing to say.

But you’re patient. You always have been. You tilt your head and wait.

“I was…mean to you,” he hears your words to him so clearly he has to remind himself that you hadn’t just said them to him, standing here in front of him. “And then I left.”

“You did,” you murmur gently, but there’s no detectable bitterness in your tone. You look at him with all of the fondness you always did.

“Wasn’t right,” he gruffs, throat feeling tight, “‘n I should’ve apologized and then it was too late. And now…”

You hum, an almost sympathetic thing. You take a step closer to him, and he has to fight to stay where he is. A large part of him wants to bolt out the door–another smaller and seemingly insane part wants to be closer to you.

“I missed you, you know.”

His eyes snap to yours then–searching for the punchline. Waiting for you to tell him that you were only fucking with him. It doesn’t come. You seem to hear the question he can’t get himself to ask.

“I was never upset with you, Kat. I only ever missed you.”

“But I–” he can’t think of one good reason to try to argue with you right now, and yet he can’t stop his mouth from moving. “You cried–”

And that makes you laugh. “Katsuki, I was sixteen. Someone could have breathed the wrong way and I’d cry.”

He can’t get his brain to catch up. You take another step toward him–he feels your proximity buzz on his skin.

“I knew you,” you murmur, and it feels like a secret he does not deserve to hear, “and you’re different now. But I’d like to think I know you still.”

He feels your fingers wrap around the wrist that’s glued to his side. He eyes you, not completely confident that he’s not hallucinating right now. He lets the tension bleed from that particular spot of his body–lets you thread your fingers through his. It feels like you’ve set him on fire and he’s acutely aware in this moment that he will never let you go. Not ever again.

“I’m still here,” you tell him, speaking directly to his heart now. You take one more step and wrap your arms around his middle, ear to his heart. If he was anywhere close to his right mind, he’d be embarrassed by how it races in his chest. “I still need you like I did then.”

You’ve rendered him speechless and immobile. It’s another several, long seconds before you break the silence.

“Okay Kat this is going to be really embarrassing if you don’t hug me back–”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, thawed. He wraps both arms around your shoulders, a cage around your head that holds you to him. “Sorry.”

You laugh a little, muffled by his sweatshirt, and he feels warm. It’s quiet then, but not in a way that’s oppressive–not in a way that pins him to the floor or to his grief.

“Stay here tonight,” you tell him–you don’t ask.

He wants to say no–he has no change of clothes and he has his routine that keeps him afloat and he’s not sure what’ll happen if he strays from that–but to be with you like this feels good. It would be stupid to stave that off for even one more night.

Now that he's comfortable enough to really look, there are pieces of you around your apartment that he never thought he’d see again.

In the throw pillows you’ve picked, the way you arrange things (and not just the pictures and frames but other things that he didn't see before, ornate and odd and out of place if anywhere but here. He thinks they're weird and just like you to have) on your walls. He’s no idea when he got so damn sentimental, but he can’t help it (and would rather die than ask you about any of it, so he observes quietly when you’re not looking).

You ask him if he's hungry, and for the first time in a while, he's not nauseous around you and finds that he could eat. No sooner than you start cooking does he bat you away and take over completely. You put up what he knows is a weak attempt at a fight before you take a seat next to him on the counter to watch. It’s all he can do to pay attention to the downswing of his knife on the cutting board, rather than the way his sweatpants hug your hips from this angle.

God, is he fucking thirteen again?

He feels it–knows he’s red in the face the entire time you’re next to him. You seem oblivious–chatting with him about the shop and the book you’re reading and your sister, and everything else he’s missed in the last however long. It sobers him a bit–because there is so much that he has missed.

“Hey,” you swing your leg out to poke him in the gut with your toes. “I’m right here.”

He catches you by the foot and holds you there–fights to keep himself from brushing over the instep of it with his thumb. “Keep y'r gross feet to yourself.”

You hum. “You gonna let go of my gross foot then?”

He releases you immediately, red and grumbling about you being a damn brat when you chuckle. He busies himself with finishing dinner, pointedly choosing not to look at you to protect his own sanity.

He supposes it makes sense–he’d cut off his feelings for you years ago like he’d bent a hose in half. To be around you again has loosened his grip on the thing–and here they are again, flooding his system with far more pressure than before. It’s a heavy thing, the weight of his love and the burden of what he’d done. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t upset with him–he feels the need to atone all the same.

Over dinner, he feels bold enough to let you in, at least a little bit. He keeps his eyes on his plate as he details chronologically–graduating, the loneliness, the need to be connected and to make amends. In not so many words, he tells you about his regret. He wants to tell you of his deepest one–walking away from you–but he stops just short of it.

You’re thoughtful beside him, chewing on each piece of the puzzle as he shares it. After a moment, he starts to sweat.

“Never knew you could be so quiet.”

You huff, mouth pulling up at the corners. “And I never knew you could talk so much.”

Before he can get embarrassed, you reach for him again–fingers wrapping around his forearm. “You’re different now.”

It’s the second time you’ve said it and the wave of insecurity threatens to displace his dinner. The word comes out before he can stop it. “Bad?”

You shake your head, smile growing wider. “No. Not bad.”

He supposes he can live with that. You keep your grip on him, literal and otherwise.

“Don’t remember you bein’ so touchy.” It’s half-hearted at best–he curses himself for looking a gift horse in the mouth, but the confusion somehow beats out the unfettered need to have your attention on him.

He turns his arm over, palm up, and you smooth your thumb over the tendon in his wrist. You smile again, but it’s subdued this time. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes in the way he knows you meant it to. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“M’ sorry, Bunny.”

You shake your head, eyes trained on each freckle on his arm as you smooth over it with your thumb. “You were a child. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

He huffs, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Yeah, well, ’m a grown ass man now and I’m still sorry.”

You snort, weaving your fingers together again. Your smile comes easier.

“I love you,” you murmur, eyes never leaving where you are linked with him.

The silence turns deafening. Katsuki is certain he’s just had a fucking stroke.

“I–you–”

“Oh my god,” you breathe, looking mortified as you snatch your hand away from him–

He snatches it back just as quickly. “Fuckin’–hold on–”

You look like you’re ready to chew his arm off to get out of his grasp–and it makes him laugh. Really laugh, deep in his chest–you look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I’ve been–fuckin’,” he says, still giggly, still giddy if he could ever be that, “dreamin’ of hearing you say that for nearly two damn decades and that’s how you do it?”

He’s still laughing as he watches the gears turn in your head–you relax a little in your seat and he releases you, only when he’s sure you won’t dart off. You suck in a breath, long and controlled.

“Oh,” you exhale, and he watches it click for you. “You–oh.”

He feels bolder than he ever has–every nerve ending in his body on fire and needing you. He's up and next to you before he knows it, and you look up at him with eyes that look right through him. For the first time, he hopes you see it all. He wants you to see everything.

Whatever you see has you up out of your seat, your hands reaching for him and settling on his chest like you'd known the feeling of him beneath your palms all of your life. You tilt your chin, and he follows you down.

Katsuki's got the whole world in his hands; he chooses to handle it–you–with fragility that he wasn’t sure he was capable of until now. He rushes nothing–the soft give of your hips under his hands is nearly dizzying and he can’t stop himself from pulling you closer, if you ever could be. You don’t seem to mind–reaching and grabbing and needing him like you are. To know that the unbridled want he feels is mutual burns him from the inside out–but it’s more than that, and he can feel it down to his bones–he loves you. So deeply and for so long that he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has you in his lap. He only knows, as innately as breathing or the blood flowing through his veins, to pull you closer–fingertips touching at your spine and pulling you closer still, expanding with your ribcage at every breath that grows deeper against his lips.

“Katsuki,” and you whisper it but you may as well have shouted for the way it lights up every synapse in his brain, “want more of you–”

“Let me feel ya a little longer,” he presses a kiss to your jaw and he feels like he’s pleading. He’s not too proud to do it. “Just a little longer, yeah?”

You blink, processing what he’s asked, and a small, sweet smile splits your face as you lean your forehead to his temple, nodding softly. And god, does it feel like a prize, like a gift he’s surely never deserved but you are so good and you care little for how deserving he might be. He’s never known anything like you–never knew he could have something like this. Your body bows toward his like gravity or the universe or a god called you to do it, and there’s no force on earth or otherwise that could keep him from meeting you halfway.

His fingers follow the spaces between your ribs and trail up to the hollow of your throat–he feels the rapid flutter of your heart through the thin skin and the knowledge that you are as affected as he is proves to be too much for his own heart–

“Katsuki–”

You’re pleading now, and when he meets your hooded gaze he understands. His hands fall to your hips again, and press down gently–he can look nowhere but your face that goes slack as you shudder through the pleasure that he feels lick up his spine. He’s as intentional and methodical as he’s ever been, and he knows that if he’d ever been born for anything, it has to be this–to use his body for this–for you–

“Oh,” your arms loop around his neck and pull him back to you, and he chases the soft press of your lips to his–the feeling of your sweet sounds that fill his mouth, “it’s so good. You feel so good.”

Your praise gnaws at the edges of his skull and makes everything fuzzy. He’s mindless as he holds you there–rutting against you slowly, just as animal as anything but only with the goal of keeping you in his arms, kissing him like you are. Every plush glide of your mouth against his pulls him deeper into this thing–

He nearly comes out of his skin when your hand covers where he is hard and aching and squeezes. “I want to feel you,” you say, and he comes back to himself, if only a little bit, to pull your hand into his and bring it to his lips.

“Later”, he murmurs against your wrist, letting his words smear across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He presses a kiss to the inside of your elbow and raises it over his head to join the other. “Need you t’feel good.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s ever said and the weight of it presses you back into your sheets, open and looking up at him like an angel. He knows to treat you gentler still–he resists the urge to bite down–to consume, to bring you into him–and replaces it with the press of his mouth to your jawline, and the wet drag of his tongue across the skin of your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, warm and soft between your hip bones, “Y’re so fucking beautiful–”

He knows he’s never tasted a thing like you when you flood his tongue, and that he will never again–knows that he’ll never hear anything like the cry you let out as you let him have this part of you. The way you say his name, the way you don't seem to know whether to pull him in or push him away–now that he has you, he knows he can never go without.

He loves you. He loves you.

You slip over that edge with the ease of water from a glass and he nearly follows you. He presses his temple into the soft give of your thigh and feels delighted at the feeling of the flutter of your heartbeat. He'd stay there forever if he could, but your grip on his hair pulls him back up to you, and he can't stop the laugh that leaves him.

You kiss him and the arousal knocks around his stomach so hard it makes him dizzy. He pulls away just to ground himself–he leans his temple to yours and relishes in the feeling of your fingertips up his arms, over his shoulders, into his hair.

"Katsuki," you whisper, pulling him closer. He knows it could never be closer enough.

"'m here, Bunny," he kisses every inch of skin he can reach, "I'm here."

#coms <3 #I would say coms are open but this took literal months so like. proceed at your own risk #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou fluff #bakugou hurt comfort #BAKUBUN <3

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television-overload · 1 day

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 26/34 - madeline

[Read on AO3]

Feeding the baby is slow going, but Mulder thinks they ought to cut her a little slack. It is her first day, after all. Eventually, she takes a longer pause and yawns, her tiny mouth opening wide and showing off her gums.

“That’s a big yawn for such a small person,” Mulder says, watching as Scully sets the bottle aside, lifting Madeline to her shoulder to pat her on the back. It isn’t long before she successfully expels a burp, drawing a chuckle out of Mulder. She’s so good with her already. He can’t wait to see his partner grow and change as a mother. Which reminds him: Mother’s Day is coming up. He’ll have to do something to celebrate.

“It really happened,” Scully says, marveling once more at their situation.

“It did,” he says, then thinks. “Should we tell your mom now?”

She laughs, nodding her head in agreement. Yeah, it’s probably safe to share the news now, isn’t it? “She’s gonna be beside herself.”

“She’s not gonna speak to us for months, for keeping this from her,” Mulder says, the joke an attempt to alleviate the tinge of genuine worry he has.

“I don’t know, I think we’ve got a pretty good Get-out-of-Jail-Free card here,” Scully says, looking down at the baby and bouncing her gently. “She won’t be able to stay away from her first granddaughter.”

Just then, Mulder gets a whiff of something not so pleasant, and he chuckles nervously. “Phew, are you sure? Cause this little stinker certainly knows how to clear a room.”

Scully gives him a thinly-veiled look of amusement, but he can tell she’s put off by the smell too, even with her strong forensic pathologist’s stomach. This will take some getting used to.

“Well, I got to be the one to give her her first bottle,” she says. “You want to do the first diaper change?”

“Somehow, I don’t feel like that’s a fair trade,” Mulder says, laughing. Even so, he doesn’t hesitate to lift the baby from Scully’s arms and carry her over to the changing table, which is outfitted with all the supplies they could possibly need.

Scully stands by on the opposite side of the table for moral support, watching him with a funny smile on her face. It takes a second for him to find his rhythm—a real live baby with flailing legs is a bit different than an inanimate baby doll, after all—but he vows that in no time, he’ll be a pro.

“There we go,” he says, tossing the dirty diaper into the trash can from a distance. “A 3-pointer! And the crowd goes wild!”

Scully rolls her eyes, lifting the baby back into her arms and burying her nose in Madeline’s hair.

“How’d I do?” Mulder asks.

Scully smiles up at him from beneath her thick lashes. “Fresh as a daisy,” she says. “I should probably try to get her to sleep. Are you going to call your mom?”

“Yeah,” Mulder says, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ll call her later tonight. She usually plays bridge with some friends Tuesday afternoons. At least, I think she still does.” In truth, he hadn’t talked to her much since her release from the hospital, a fact that he really needs to remedy.

Scully nods.

“Well, could you get my mom on the phone and let her know to come? I’m going to get Maddie cleaned up a little before we have visitors.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Scully,” he says. “When I call her from the hospital, it’s usually not good news.”

Scully gives him an encouraging look before laying the baby in her bassinet for a quick sponge bath. “Well, this is the perfect chance to change that up, don’t you think?”

She’s right, of course. He owes Margaret Scully an awful lot. Let this be the first step toward earning the kindness she has so freely bestowed so many times over the years.

He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, pressing the buttons for speed dial 4. It only rings twice before it connects.

“Hello?” her voice projects.

“Hey, Mrs. Scully.”

“Fox? Is there something wrong?”

He sighs. He can almost see the pinched Scully look of concern on the elder woman’s face. That’s what he gets for constantly being the bearer of bad news, he supposes. He glances at his partner and then back at the boring pastel colored painting of a flower on the wall.

“Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Scully,” he assures her. “Actually, it’s kind of the opposite.”

“I don’t understand—”

“How quickly can you get to the hospital in Annapolis?” he asks. “Bearing in mind that no one’s hurt, there’s been no disaster. For once, it’s good news.”

“The hospital?” she questions, still sounding worried despite his reassurances. “I can leave now, so maybe 45 minutes? You’re sure everything’s alright?”

“Promise,” he says. “Dana would have called you herself, but she’s… busy.”

“If you say so,” Maggie says doubtfully.

Gee, he wonders where Scully got her skepticism from.

“Room 509 when you get here,” he says into the phone, checking his watch for the time. “See you soon?”

He can hear the rustle of a jacket and car keys on the other end of the line. “Yes– yes, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.”

-.-.-

“No, you must have misunderstood me,” Maggie says to the nurse leading the way through the hospital corridors, “I’m looking for Dana Scully in room 509. This is the maternity ward.”

“Yes, ma’am. Room 509.”

“But that can’t be right,” she says, her brows furrowing in confusion.

Maybe Dana is working a case that involves a pregnant woman that required her medical expertise. But why would Fox call her asking her to come?

“You can go on in,” the nurse says as they arrive outside the room.

Thoroughly confused and not knowing what to expect, she pushes open the door. On the far end of the room, Dana sits on a couch, her arm resting against a cart of some kind, while Fox stands, his back to the door, hunched over the same cart. He turns and a smile spreads across his face, and Dana quickly gets to her feet, looking equal parts excited and nervous.

“Mom!” she says.

“Dana? What’s going on?”

She’s not dressed in her doctor garb. She is, however, wearing her usual FBI clothing, though it looks a little rumpled. Her daughter is usually so prim and polished—to gain the respect of her male peers, she supposes—it’s unusual to see her looking anything less than professional on a work day.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she says, walking quickly toward her with only a cursory glance back at Fox. “There was always a chance it wouldn’t work out, but…”

She runs out of words to say, opting instead to grab her mother’s arm and start tugging her to the other side of the room. The beaming smiles on their faces are unlike any Maggie had seen in quite some time.

As they get closer, Maggie sees that the cart she saw earlier is in fact a hospital bassinet, and inside lays a baby, wide awake and blinking as she holds tight to Fox’s finger.

“What– how–?” she begins, stuttering, her hand coming up to clutch her metaphorical pearls. “Dana, is that–?”

“Mom, I’d like you to meet your granddaughter,” Dana says, her voice shaking with emotion. Maggie looks up at her, then back at the baby. Tears pool in Dana’s eyes, and she supports her mother as they step up to the bassinet so she can get a good look.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Dana!” she says, feeling her own eyes begin to water. “But, how? I was with you just a few weeks ago. And, is Fox–?”

“Mulder and I– Well, it’s a long story,” she starts. “Last year, I decided to try in vitro fertilization, and Mulder agreed to… help.”

Maggie looks up at that, and she doesn’t miss the blush as it spreads across the man’s cheeks. He ducks his head, trying to focus only on the baby.

“It didn’t work, which is why I didn’t tell you,” Dana continues. “I didn’t want to… get your hopes up.”

“Oh, Dana,” Maggie says, looking sad. She wishes her daughter would confide in her more. She stores things up for so long, that when it all finally comes out, it’s hard to be of any help. She has so many questions, and she’s not sure Dana will give her all the answers.

“I thought that was my last chance to be a mother. But then, a few months ago, Mulder said that—”

It clearly makes her emotional to think of, now, whatever her daughter’s partner had offered to do.

“He said that if I wanted to try adoption, he’d do it with me.”

Adoption.

“I can’t believe it,” Maggie says, in awe of the tiny baby, and of the man who had made all of it possible. Fox Mulder had changed her daughter’s life forever, and she doesn’t think there’s any way she could possibly repay him.

“I can’t believe it either,” Dana laughs, and she sees Fox nod his agreement. This is a crazy thing that they have done. She'd thought that something was up with the two of them lately, of course, but never in a million years would she have guessed this.

“Would you like to hold her, Mrs. Scully?” the man asks, gently lifting the baby out of her bassinet.

Overwhelmed and caught off guard by the sight of Fox Mulder holding a child, Maggie can only nod as she accepts the tiny bundle into the cradle of her arms. Tears spring to her eyes.

“Oh…” she sighs, unable to keep the tears at bay. “This is such a… a wonderful surprise. What’s her name?”

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” Dana says proudly, glancing up at her partner in some form of unspoken communication.

That grabs her interest.

“Mulder?” she asks curiously. “So you’re…” She gestures between the two of them with her free hand, and catches the glint of a ring on Fox’s left ring finger. Her eyebrows raise.

“We decided we’d raise the baby together. To make the application simpler, we got married,” Dana answers.

Married?!

“When?” she asks, equal parts thrilled and furious that she’d been left out of these plans.

“Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas…” she whispers, thinking back to that day. “That’s why you two had to go rushing off? You were getting married?” she says, aghast.

“Mom—”

“Your entire family was in town, Dana, even Charlie! Don’t you think we would have liked to be there for you on your special day?”

“It isn’t like that,” Dana says, her frustration rising. “It was just a formality. We went to the courthouse. We needed the papers so that we’d be seen as a couple looking to adopt on our applications. Otherwise, we might have been rejected. And you know they’re not the most accepting of single mothers—”

Wait, wait, wait. Back up.

“I don’t understand,” she says, “You’re married but not… together?”

Fox and Dana look at each other, and Maggie knows the answer before they say it. Her stomach sinks.

“No,” Dana says, a little hint of disappointment in her voice. “Not really.”

Glancing between the two of them, Maggie detects disappointment from both sides, not that either of them can probably tell. They’re so blind to what the other is feeling, that it would be funny if it didn’t make Maggie so sad. All the things they’re missing out on, just because they’re both too stubborn to admit the truth.

It’s probably only a matter of time anyway, she decides, no use harping on about it for now. If another month goes by with no sign of progress, she'll say something. That's as far as she'll go.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that?” she says curtly, pressing her lips together. “Frustrating.”

“Now you sound like my mother,” Fox jokes, in that self-deprecating tone of voice she wishes he’d stop using.

Maggie sighs, glancing back down at the gurgling baby in her arms. She sure is awfully cute.

“You’re lucky you gave me a granddaughter for all this nonsense I have to put up with,” she says, though not unkindly. She can say this at least about Fox and Dana: this baby will know a kind of love few people in this world get to experience.

They just have to pull themselves together first.

-.-.-

Maddie falls asleep on Mulder’s chest sometime after Mrs. Scully starts talking about breaking the news to Scully’s brothers, and to be honest, he’s glad for the distraction. It does, however, mean he’s kind of trapped there when Scully decides to go ask a nurse about bringing up some lunch for them from the cafeteria, leaving him alone with her mother and the baby.

They sit in silence for a while, neither really knowing what to say. At a certain point, though, Mulder can’t take the quiet anymore.

“You think Scully’s crazy, don’t you,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

“I’m not sure I know what to think,” Maggie answers. “About Dana.”

Mulder winces. He’d have to stop doing that. “Sorry, habit.”

“Ever since she met you, her life has been upside down and backwards from what I always thought it would be,” she continues.

“I know.”

“I don’t blame you, Fox.” Maggie’s hand settles atop his on the armrest of the couch, almost weightless. “She’s happy with you, otherwise she wouldn’t have stayed this long. I may not know much about my daughter these days, but I do know that.”

“I’m happier with her than I have ever been,” he admits. “And now—” he looks down at Madeline. “I didn’t know this much happiness existed.”

Maggie smiles, a little sadly. He’s used to people looking at him like that, the poor kid with the tragic backstory. He just wishes she wouldn’t.

The room falls silent again. A funny look comes over her face, and he gets the sense that she's holding something back.

“And, where will you live?” she asks, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“We’re going to be looking for a house,” he answers, “but for now I’ve been sleeping in… Dana’s spare bedroom.”

Maggie purses her lips. “No nursery?”

“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head. “We figure she’ll sleep just fine in a bassinet for the first few months.”

“And that will be in Dana’s room?”

“I suppose so.”

“So, will you be helping when she wakes up needing to be fed or changed in the middle of the night?”

What is this, some high-stakes interview for a job? He really hadn’t been prepared for this.

“Of– of course I will,” he answers, perplexed by the fact that she even has to ask. Of course he’ll help take care of the baby, he and Scully are in this together, as they are with everything.

Maggie hums. You could almost hear a pin drop.

“Seems like it would just be easier if you were both in the same room to begin with,” she states, shrugging her shoulders like what she’d said was no big deal. She sips nonchalantly from a styrofoam cup of coffee and doesn’t look at him.

Now, Mulder doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea... “Mrs. Scully—” he starts.

“It’s Maggie, Fox,” she says kindly but firmly, interrupting him. “You’re my son-in-law now, I think you can call me by my first name.”

He sighs, and feels the baby let out a sigh against his chest. You and me both, kid.

“Maggie…” he corrects. “Look, Scully—Dana—is my best friend. And we’ve agreed to be parents and raise Madeline together, but we’re not—”

“Fox,” she interrupts again. “It’s very sweet that you’ve taken on this role as Madeline’s father, but what about Dana? Doesn’t she deserve a real marriage, with a husband who does more than care for her as the co-parent of their child? Don’t you deserve more?”

The very idea that Scully might not be enough for him offends him deeply, and he’s quick to tell her so. “I couldn’t possibly ask for more than your daughter,” he says. “She’s– she’s all I need. Her and Madeline. As for Dana…”

“She needs you, too.”

“No, but–”

“Don’t take what I’m saying the wrong way,” Maggie says seriously, leaning toward him. “Dana deserves a real husband, who loves and cares for her in all the ways a husband should.”

She levels a stare at Mulder, and he waits for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not saying that shouldn’t be you.”

What?

It’s not like he hasn’t thought of this before—he has—but to be talking about it with her mother? Twenty years from now, if Madeline were to have a friend like Mulder, he’d tell her to run away as fast as she possibly could. But—that isn’t what Margaret is saying, is it?

In fact… it seems like she’s saying the exact opposite.

“You care for her, don’t you?” she asks.

“I do, but—”

“You love her?”

Mulder’s jaw hangs open, his automatic reply dying on his lips. His heart pounds in his chest, and he spares a quick thought toward Maddie and hopes it won’t disturb her somehow. He wants to answer her, but he doesn’t know how. His throat closes up almost completely as tears pool in his eyes, and he doesn’t trust his voice to come out right if he tried.

He glances down at Maddie, this precious little life he and Scully have vowed to take care of.

“It doesn’t matter if I do,” he says quietly. “She doesn’t… feel the same way.”

He can’t look at Margaret right now. He’s afraid of what he would see if he did.

“She deserves better than what I can give her,” he finishes, taking comfort in the warmth of his daughter burrowed into his chest.

Maggie is quiet for a moment. Then, she says, “It looks, to me, like you’ve given her quite a lot.”

True or not, there’s still the matter of everything else his presence in her life has done for her. To her.

“It doesn’t compare to how much has been taken...” he says.

“Which you are not responsible for.” Maggie’s stare is unrelenting, he has no choice but to take every word she speaks to heart. “Ask yourself who else in Dana’s life would have been able to make this possible for her. Who else would make such a life-changing decision, just to make her dream come true?”

“Any guy would have to be stupid not to,” Mulder states the obvious.

“You sell yourself too short, Fox,” Maggie says, shaking her head in either annoyance or disappointment. He doesn’t like either of those directed at him—not from Margaret Scully. “There’s no one she trusts more than you,” she says emphatically. “She wouldn’t have done this with anyone else by her side.”

Maggie sits back, apparently finished dressing him down. The baby squirms and then settles in her sleep, still exhausted from the eventful day she’s had. He can’t help but think about what Maggie had said—that Scully would only ever do this with him, no one else. He wants to push back, to say that isn’t true, but he knows in his heart that it is.

The question is: what does that mean for him? What does it mean for them?

Maggie gives a tiny smile, watching as he absentmindedly rubs tiny circles on Maddie’s back, lost in thought.

“Dana has told me some of the more unbelievable things you believe in, Fox…” she says quietly. “Aliens, ghosts, monsters… Given that, I would think it would be easier.”

“That what would be easier?” Mulder asks, the drone of his murmur matching the tone she had set.

Maggie smiles at him fondly, her knowing eyes meeting his.

“For you to believe she loves you.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption #maggie scully #me: *wakes up to post at 7 am on a saturday*#*goes straight back to sleep*

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sequinsmile-x · 3 days

Text

Eros - Part 5

Emily wasn’t surprised that she’d started to sleep with one of her professors, but she was surprised that she’d fallen in love with him.

A Hotchniss AU.

-x-

Hi friends,

Somehow 10 months have gone by since I last updated this fic, and then I got an anon about it. People seemed to really miss this version of them, and I did too, so here we are with another part.

If you'd like me to go back to updating this more regularly please do let me know <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She loved watching him teach.

It did something to her, unfurled a desire that felt deep in her blood as she watched him command a room with nothing more than his deep voice and a simple raise of his eyebrow. It reminded her of when they first started sleeping together, when it was completely forbidden - quick fucks in his office after class. Clandestine and fast as she scratched marks into his desk that she knew were still there. On some level, she missed it. She missed the secrecy, the sneaking around that came with it, how it heightened everything to the point where it would drive her crazy.

She smiles when his eyes meet hers, somehow spotting her in his busy classroom where she is standing at the back, her arms crossed over her chest and her book bag slung over her shoulder.

She missed the secrecy sometimes, but what she had now was infinitely better. He was kind and loving. He listened to her and took care of her in a way no other partner ever had - even the ones who had been older than him. She could see them going the distance, and was planning on finding a job nearby when she finished her masters in a couple of months.

The idea of Europe, of being far away from him, was no longer as appealing as it once had been.

She jumps a little when the bell goes off, the sound louder than it usually was since she was just below it, and she smiles as Aaron dismisses his class. She tightens her shoulders, sees how some of the students look at her and then whisper to each other. Their relationship was no secret on campus, and she was sure people were aware it hadn’t started only when she started the master's programme - something Aaron had nothing to do with.

The staring, and the gossip, made her oddly grateful for her upbringing. She’d been taught how to ignore it before she had even started first grade.

She walks over to him as the last student leaves the room and hums happily as he leans in to stamp a quick kiss against her lips, “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him again before she steps back, making sure to keep some space between them in case someone walks in, “You ready to go?”

He nods and picks up his briefcase before he eases her bookbag from her shoulder, smiling as he purposely ignores the way she rolls her eyes at him but lets the bag go without comment, “My tux is already at yours, right?”

Her mother had invited them both to an event she was hosting, and Emily couldn’t think of one good reason to get out of it. Elizabeth had only met Aaron once, a few months ago, when Emily was in the hospital. She’d very purposely kept Aaron and her mother apart ever since then, but she knew she couldn’t forever.

Not when she was sure her mother now understood the nature of how their relationship would have begun.

“Yes,” she says, grimacing at the thought of their evening plans, “But…” she adds, leaning in towards him, making a point of looking up at him through her long lashes, “We could always just stay at mine,” she says, her smile getting wider as he swallows thickly, his gaze lingering on her lower lip when she wets it with her tongue, “Miss this evening entirely.”

He leans in and kisses her cheek before he pulls back, “Your mother invited us both,” he says, smiling when she groans, “We should go. Then you can have your way with me when we get back to your place.”

She scoffs and walks alongside him as they leave the classroom, “You used to be fun.”

He holds the door open for her and takes the opportunity to lean in close, to press himself against her as she slips out into the hallway, “Later I’ll show you just how fun I can still be.”

___

Aaron looks around the ballroom curiously, his focus shifting between the groups of strangers scattered around.

He was sure there was more money in this one room than he’d ever get to see in his lifetime.

It was strange to think this was Emily’s world, that this was the environment she’d grown up in. She simultaneously fit it, her grace and elegance and poise making her seem like a natural, and seemed out of place too. This wild, beautiful thing of a woman who had never quite been able to be what her mother wanted or expected.

She was what he wanted though, and he’d long gotten over any shame or embarrassment over how they’d met. He knew people had their opinions, that they would continue to do so as they moved forward together, but he didn’t care anymore.

He loved her. Even if he hadn’t told her that yet.

He wanted to, the words on the tip of his tongue at any given moment, but he always held back. A tiny bit of him laced with insecurity that she’d find someone better, that he’d feel like nothing short of a lovesick fool when she did. It was a bad attempt at trying to protect himself, his heart still not quite healed from the divorce that had let him jump into something with Emily in the first place.

“Here you go, honey.”

He smiles as looks up at her and takes the glass of champagne she offers him. He takes the opportunity to look her up and down, to appreciate the dark red dress she is wearing. He’d seen her naked countless times, but there was something about seeing her like this, about the thin straps resting over her collarbone and the split that showed just a little too much of her left thigh that was driving him crazy.

“Thanks, Em,” he says, sipping his drink before he looks around, “This is…something.”

She chuckles and steps closer to him, making sure she’s standing next to him so she has the same view of the party that he does, “I’d give this a solid 5 out of 10 on the scale of parties Mother can throw.”

He raises his eyebrow at her, “Really?”

She hums, “Oh yeah, the ones the President comes to are always much fancier,” she says, laughing when he chokes a little on his drink. She looks over at Elizabeth and groans when she sees her making a beeline for them, determination in her step whilst she carries on talking to the man with her. The man who just so happened to be Emily’s ex-boyfriend, “Oh here we go.”

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest as he kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin as she shivers, turning her head to narrow her eyes at him.

“It will be fine sweetheart,” he assures her, and she hums, taking a large sip of her champagne as Elizabeth continues to make her way from the other side of the large ballroom.

“Says the guy who’s only met her once.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek, making sure his voice is low so only she hears him, “To be fair though, that one time was in the hospital after you cracked your ribs after shower sex. And when she learned you have your nipple pierced.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans and turns to look at him again, her irritation dulled as he kisses her, his lips quickly stamped against hers. Any further conversation is cut off as Elizabeth finally makes it to them, a smile on her face Emily knows is fake.

“Emily, Aaron,” she says, her hands folded in front of her, “Lovely to see you both.”

“You too, Mother,” Emily says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek, “Thank you for inviting us.”

Elizabeth smiles and then turns to face the man next to her, “Mark, you know Emily of course, and this is Aaron.”

Mark smiles and reaches out, shaking Aaron’s hand before he kisses Emily’s cheek. It makes something in Aaron’s chest burn, jealousy bubbling low in his gut as he tightens his hold on Emily, making the space between them even smaller.

“Nice to meet you,” Mark says, clearing his throat as he stands back, “How did the two of you meet?”

Before Emily can answer, Elizabeth speaks over her, “Oh Aaron here is a professor at Emily’s university,” she says, smiling politely at her daughter as she carries on, “Emily was in his class.”

Emily clenches her teeth together, her jaw tight as she swallows down her irritation, knowing Elizabeth wants a reaction from her. In another world, another lifetime, where they had a more typical mother-daughter relationship, she’s sure that on some level she’d understand her mother’s criticism of her relationship with Aaron. She’d appreciate that her mother was worried about her, that the age gap, albeit on the small side given he was a professor, and the power dynamic was a concern. But their relationship wasn’t like that - it never had been - and Emily had long outgrown the need to have her mother’s opinion on something.

“Aaron teaches the undergrads,” Emily says, maintaining eye contact with her mother for a second before she turns to Mark, “I’m in the masters programme.”

They all know she’s leaving out the fact she had been an undergrad when they’d first got together, but none of them says it. They make tense, but polite, conversation for a few minutes before Elizabeth moves on and Mark leaves shortly after, making an excuse that he’d seen his parents and that he wanted to say hi to them.

As soon as they are alone again, Emily sags into his side, grumbling so only he can hear her, “I knew she’d bring it up.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her temple, “We thought she knew - now we know she does,” he runs his hand up and down her side, the rasp of the material of her dress against his fingers something he could focus on, “Who was that Mark guy?”

“Oh, I dated him during my freshman year.”

He frowns as he pulls away, the jealousy back in full swing, the simmer turning to a boil, “What?”

She smiles as she looks at him, “No need to be jealous, Aaron. It was years ago now. And…we mutually broke up. He was…nice.”

“Nice?”

She nods and wraps her arm around his, placing her glass down as she leads him to the dancefloor, “Just nice. Kind of boring. The type of guy my mother would want me to end up with.”

He chuckles, the familiar insecurity building in his chest, his anxiety that he wasn’t enough for her making itself known, “And I’m, what? More than nice?”

She smiles as they make it to the dancefloor, immediately pressing herself closer to him, her arms linked around his neck as she uses the proximity to kiss him, sighing into it when his hands settle on her lower back.

“You’re a lot more than nice,” she says, stamping a kiss to his lips again as they begin to sway, lost in each other, “You’re everything I want.”

He pulls her closer, his hand firm on her lower back as he kisses her, “You’re everything I want too.”

___

He’s all over her the moment they get into her building. She encourages it, leans into the grasping touch, desperation in it she knows is lingering jealousy from their brief conversation with Mark.

She also knows he’s distracting her, that he could sense the tension only her mother could bring out in her all evening, and she’s grateful for it. Grateful for him.

She gasps as she tries to open her front door, her grip tight on her keys as he kisses her cheek and then her jaw, nibbling at the sharp edge of it with his teeth before he licks down her neck. She gets them inside, the door slamming closed behind them, and she turns in his embrace, her hands on his cheeks as she pulls him into a kiss, swallowing down the groan he lets out.

Aaron pushes her against the nearby wall, trapping her between him and it. He runs his hand up her thigh and hooks it around his waist, smirking against her throat when she gasps when his palm presses against her skin.

“Love this dress on you,” he grunts out, “Fucking gorgeous.”

She looks him up and down, her smile slightly wild as she takes him in, “You don’t look bad yourself in that tux.”

He grasps her chin to hold her in place as he leans in to kiss her fiercely, tilting her head as his other hand traces her inner thigh, his fingers ghosting over her underwear groaning when he feels the soft damp material.

“So wet already,” he says as he pulls back, smiling when she chases the kiss, “Bet you’ve been like this all evening.”

She rests her head against the wall, the thump of it echoing around them, as he rubs her clit through her underwear, “Since I came to your classroom.”

He grins as he pushes her underwear to the side, groaning as he feels the heat of her, running his fingers back and forth through her slick, “You like watching me teach?”

He knew that already. Had known it since they first started having sex. She’d come to him after class, desperate and ready for him as she’d kiss him before his office door was even locked. She nods, pushing her hips against his hand as he continues to tease her, ghosting over her clit, his touch too gentle, barely there and infuriating.

“Aaron-” she growls, but she’s cut off as he slips two fingers inside of her, her irritation turning into a moan, “Yes,” she closes her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of him when he starts to pump his fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit the spot deep inside of her that only he’d ever been able to each, “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”

Part of him is tempted to tease her, to use his knowledge of her body to bring her to the edge and then stop, to drive her to that point again and again until she is begging, but he can’t. He wants this - to pull her apart - to remind her that she was his. Not Mark’s. Not anyone else's. His.

He makes quick work of it, pumping his fingers in and out of her, circling his thumb around her clit. It feels like he’s pulling pleasure from her and all she can do is grip his arms, her nails digging into him through his tux jacket. He groans as he feels her tighten around his fingers, and he leans in to kiss her, licking through her mouth as she gets closer to the edge, swallowing down the way she chokes out his name.

When she comes she’s grateful he’s pressing her so tightly against the wall that she can’t fall, the one leg she has on the ground giving way. She rests her forehead against his and lets out a breathless chuckle.

“Fuck you’re good at that,” she says kissing him again as he pushes her dress up over her hips, his hands on her thighs, fingers slippery with her, as he encourages her to jump, her other leg wrapping around his waist, “So good.”

Aaron carries her to her bedroom. He tugs at the zipper running down her back and she pulls at his bowtie, letting it fall open before she turns her attention to the buttons on his shirt. She grumbles in frustration when she can’t undo them, her fingers still shaking from the orgasm still thrumming in her veins, and she pulls at the material, buttons scattering across the floor.

He chuckles, kissing her cheek as he lowers her onto her bed, “This tux is a rental.”

She smirks at him, something settling in her gut when she smooths her hand across his chest, the press of his skin against hers soothing, “I’ll pay the fine.”

They get undressed quickly, clothes and shoes scattering across her bedroom floor before she pulls him on top of her, sighing when he settles into the cradle of her hips, matching groans escaping them as he notches against her. She reaches between them and pumps him up and down, smirking when a punched out groan escapes him, his breath skipping across her face. She guides him into her, her eyes rolling back at the familiar stretch, her hips stuttering against his.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, grasping at her thigh again as he hooks it around his back, “So fucking good.”

“You too,” she gasps out, rolling her hips against his, desperately trying to encourage him to move, every nerve in her body an edge, “Please move, I need you to move.”

He starts to move, his lips against hers before he makes his way down her neck, biting at her collarbone before he rests his forehead against it, getting lost in the feeling of her, of how she was clenching around him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, kissing every bit of skin he can reach, his hands grasping at her thigh and waist and anywhere he can touch, “So perfect, and all mine.”

“All yours,” she breathes out, her hands on his back, scratching at his skin as she tries to get him impossibly closer, “Yours.”

He moves them, pulling out of her and flipping her over, pushing back in before she can even react. She pushes herself up on her elbows, shuddering at the feel of him from this angle. He felt impossibly bigger like this and it overwhelms her, his body draped over hers as he links his fingers through hers. He presses his chin into the top of her head as he grabs her face, tilting it upwards so their eyes meet as he continues to thrust into her, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Aaron…” she says, her entire body shuddering, her eyes fixed on his as he brings her closer to the edge, “I’m so close, I’m so fucking close.”

“I know you are baby,” he soothes, kissing her forehead, “I can feel how tight you are,” he sneaks a hand between them and rolls her clit between his thumb and finger, growling when she clenches around him, “Come for me.”

Her elbows give way when she comes her face pressed against the mattress as she muffles a scream. Her orgasm triggers his, and he comes deep inside of her, grunting her name as he grips her hips so tightly he knows she’ll bruise.

She chuckles as he slips out of her, falling onto the bed next to her. She turns her head to look at him, smiling when he reaches over to brush her hair from her face.

“You okay?”

She hums and nods, shifting closer to him, curling herself around him, “I’m more than okay.”

He kisses the top of her head as he pulls her closer, their skin sticking together with sweat as she settles into his embrace. They lay in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the room their breathing slowly evening out.

“Tonight was…” he starts, drifting off, “Interesting.”

She chuckles and tilts her head to look up at him, “That’s one way of putting it,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry about my mom.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Em.”

She hums and reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, “If our relationship was different, if she was a normal mom, I’d understand her issue with us,” she says, lifting their joint hands to kiss his knuckles, “Fuck, if I have a daughter one day who I found out was seeing one of her professors, I’d have an issue with it.”

He can’t explain why, can’t rationalise it, but all of a sudden he’s picturing a girl half him and half her, all defiance and fire as she argued with them about why it wasn’t okay for her to sleep with a professor when that’s how they’d met. The thought of it makes him smile, makes the love he has for the woman curled up in his arms warm him from the inside out.

“Anyway,” she says, resting her head on her hand as she looks at him, “I don’t want to think about my mother…” she says, stamping her lips against his, smiling when he tightens his hold on her, “I just want to think about you.”

He grabs her, swallowing the yelp she lets out as he settles her on top of him, “All I ever want to think about is you.”

-x-

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bluepixiedream · 19 hours

Text

Okay okay I’m currently writing ‘Good Dogs Only’ chapter 2 BUT I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA I CANT HOLD BACK. I NEED TO VENT IT OUT.

IM VERY EXCITED

OKAY HERE WE GO

Cw: violence, language, blood, cursing, and kidnapping. Kind of a dark fic? Viewer discretion is advised.

Picture it:

Cute, pretty innocent reader who works hard at their job, enjoys their nice home that’s located outside of town, your flower and small vegetable garden that you spend hours on to make it more lively, all sorts of books on your living room shelf (quite obviously doesn’t get many visitors due to the adult nature of some of these books) and occasionally binges Doctor Who. Normal. Peaceful. Nothing out of the ordinary.

After work one day, you head to a small market for some dinner supplies which includes a pot roast, a meat cleaver and a bottle of rum. Unbeknownst to you, a stranger hides in the backseat of the car while you’re inside and you are none the wiser. Throwing the items in the passenger seat, you head on home. Music blaring. A lit joint between your lips and the wind in your air. Friday night and you have a hot date with a few toys and a new book that should have arrived this afternoon. Everything was perfect.

A light pops up on the dash and anxiety slams into you like you can’t imagine. What was wrong now? Could you make it home? How much would this cost? Before, you weren’t high enough and now you were too high. You wanted to curse yourself.

Pulling over as quickly as you could, you decide after a minute to check all the doors and make sure everything was okay. Before you could take off your seat belt, a plastic bag is placed over your head and tightened.

Panic and adrenaline floods you as you struggle to breath. Your hands, that immediately went to your neck to relieve the pressure, release and attempt the poke a hole through the thick, unforgiving plastic. You think that this is it. This is how you die. Pathetic and alone. Murdered of all things.

But thankfully you tear through and air hits your screaming lungs. Without thinking, you wrap a hand around your brand new meat cleaver and begin swinging behind you. Somehow managing to get out of your seatbelt, you continue your brutal assault until you're sure you killed your attacker, or at least, knock them out.

You're breathing hard. Everything is covered in the attackers sticky, cooling blood. You can’t even cry. Completely shocked at what has transpired these last few minutes.

Not knowing what to do, you start driving home again. Music off. Windows up. Fear stinking up the air. The drive home had never been longer, nor quieter.

Pulling to your house, you open the garage door and drive in, refusing to get out until the door shuts completely. You hear the man, their attacker, groan in pain and you kick it in high gear. Grabbing a dinning room chair and some rope you had hoped to use for private time, you use what strength you have to pull him in the chair and tie him like you’ve read over and over again in your BDSM books. You tightened the ropes as much as possible before stopping. The man is trying to wake, but can’t. Blood is drying against his head and bruises are blooming across what you can see.

Leaving your car door open, you grab your groceries and, in a complete and utter daze, turn off the light and head inside.

Once inside, you wash your hands before starting dinner. Halfway through with zero thoughts in your head, the attacker is awake and screaming at you to let him go. That he will kill you. You will suffer greatly for what you’ve done. You don’t do anything until dinner is put in the crockpot and you take a quick shower to get rid of the rest of the blood.

What to do, you think. Do you call the police? Wouldn’t they wonder why you didn’t call immediately? Why take him back to your place? Is that weed they smell in the car?

Would they release the attacker? Would the attacker come back for you to finish the job?

You can’t think. You can’t deal with this. What should you do? No family to turn to. You can’t get their coworkers involved, that’s just wrong. You have nobody.

You remember a bar near the other side of town, near an empty field. It’s normally filled with military people, bikers and gangsters. A “neutral place” so to speak. Nobody fucks with each other and they got booze, music and sometimes ladies who paraded themselves. It was a haven for them.

And a perfect spot for you to go and find a person to help you…deal with this situation.

Changing clothes and almost feeling a bit better, other than the man screaming if you listened hard enough, you decide it’s time. You stop at the garage and realize you can’t take your car, wait for a cab to pick you up a block away. Before you leave, you tell your attacker that you are getting help.

You don’t clarify what help you're getting, or for who. For the attacker, or for the attackee.

The cab drops you off a few blocks away from the bar and happily accepts the cash you hand them. It’s getting dark, the lights from the bar illuminates way and the big man who is watching people come and go waves you in. He thinks it’s definitely not the your scene, but who is he to say otherwise?

People fill the bar. Some are playing poker. Others are sitting at the bar and others are in booths having secretive discussions. You can’t help but feel eyes on you, clocking you, a shark drawn to blood. You try to not look around too much before going up the bar and ordering two shots of vodka to calm your nerves. As soon as they arrive, they’re both immediately knocked back, side by side. You order two more and start to feel comfortable enough to look around.

A few men in leather jackets playing pool glance at you but they go back to playing. A few people covered in tattoos and dark clothes stay to themselves in a booth closest to the door and the other booth holds four men who were obviously military. One man had mutton chops and a beanie. Another was beautiful with dark skin, full lips and a baseball cap. The third had a Mohawk and a lazy smile to whatever mutton chops had said. The last, and the one you figured out was staring a hole into you, was a complete enigma. Built like a tank and scarier than the boogie man, a black mask covered his whole face as a sewed on skull mask covered the top part of his face. His eyes were dark, and latched on to yours immediately.

Hands sweaty and nerves shot, you throw back the two shots once more before gathering the courage to walk up to the big man in a skull mask.

Apart of you rips you to shreds. How stupid you were. You already had one psychotic maniac in your garage and here you are, walking up to another one, possibly.

Nobody at the table was ready for you to walk up, as suddenly the atmosphere changed as all four eyes locked on the new arrival.

The 141 was use to people staring at them, whispering about them, wanting them. It was completely different when someone actually walked up to them. And especially being as…innocent as you were. A cute flower shirt stating “Carrot On My Wayward Son” with blue jeans and sandals didn’t exactly scream “intimidating!”. You had everyone’s attention.

But especially Ghost. Who clocked you as soon as you stepped in and didn’t stop as you drank and took inventory of the crowd.

It was exhilarating.

“Can I get you a drink?” Was the first thing you said and it was directed at Ghost. If you could scream at yourself, you would. No introductions, no “sorry for interrupting” or “I hope you guys are having a good night”. Immediately going for “do you want a drink and take me home?”. This wasn’t you.

Neither was almost beating a man to death, so you were finding out new things about you all the time.

You didn’t pay attention to the rest of the guys, who looked wildly at each other. This was NOT what they had expected but they stayed silent. Many people didn’t approach Ghost but here you were.

He stayed silent as well, taking note of your facial expression and watching as it fell. Taking his silence for rejection. Before you could apologize and turn around, his voice came out from the mask and if you survived this whole ordeal, you would beg him to read a manual so you could masturbate to it later.

“Bourbon. Kentucky.”

A smile laced your lips as you nodded and turned around to order it for him. He decided rather quickly that he liked your smile and wanted to see it more. Ignoring the rest of his team, he got up and silently followed you up the bar. You snagged a place by the wall and waited as the bartender completed your request.

You couldn’t ignore the behemoth of a man standing next to you and you couldn’t stop your face from warming up as you realized how close you two were standing.

“Not y’r usual scene, luv?” His voice vibrated through you. Addicting. You chuckled looking up at him.

“That obvious?”

“Dead give away.” His gloved lightly touched your shirt, but you could swear he just set it on fire. You couldn’t help but also blush at how ridiculous you must look. You laughed at yourself.

“I guess I didn’t see what I put on before getting here.” You tried explaining lamely, suddenly thankful the bartender chose to drop off his drink.

“Put it on my tab. ‘ers too.” The way he said it made your argument die on your tongue. Of course you could pay for it, but how could you say no?

You could see him pull his mask up and you found the bar to be interesting, desperate to give him privacy.

He would be lying if he said that didn’t make his cock hard. Look at you. Being so obedient and so polite. Fuck, it was gonna kill him. After his mask was back on, you turned back to him, losing yourself in his dark eyes.

“Thank you.” In your head, it was confident and stern but in reality, it barely came out a whisper.

“Wha’ do ya need, luv?” Getting straight to the point, and it brought you back to why exactly you were here in the first place.

You weren’t here to flirt with guys in skull masks. You were here because you were in trouble and you needed help. You couldn’t help the broken inhale or the way you chest shuddered. Ghost clocked all of it. Suddenly, his dark thoughts became even darker.

Something was wrong with his little luv and he wanted to fix it. No, he needed to fix it.

“I’m…kind of in a bind. And I don’t know what to do.” He hummed at that. He glanced back to his table before meeting your eyes.

“Your place or mine?”

You explained you didn’t drive here and asked if you should get a cab. He declined, stating he’ll take you both. Giving him directions to your place, you couldn’t help but be surprised at his vehicle of choice: a black Harley. You should have guessed but it still made you stutter. He looked over at you with your wide eyes and eyebrows near your hair line and laughed. Deep and velvety and it grew a flower inside of your chest that you couldn’t explain away.

“Scared, luv?” Ghost chuckled, fixing to put his helmet over your head. “Hang on tight.” Watching him mount his bike should be considered illegal, and you couldn’t help the clench of your thighs as you took in this specimen.

It had been way too long.

He turned on his bike as you got behind him and hanging on to him tightly, he began the ride back to your house. Your prison. You soaked in his warmth and the way his muscles contracted against your chest. He was all muscle and it had been too long since you felt muscle. You wished the drive was longer, so you could pretend that maybe you actually went to the bar looking for fun, and you really did pick up a guy and now you were headed back to your place to see how far you would go. You could actually be normal.

But all dreams end and yours ended rather quickly as he pulled up to your driveway. You waited for him to kill the bike and tell you it’s okay to let go. He does after a moment. He didn’t want you to know how good it felt having you wrapped around him. Like you belonged there. Like you belonged with him.

Tearing the helmet off and shaking your head, you hand it back with a small ‘thanks’. You both stared at each other before his eyes left yours to look over at place. Jogging your place to memory. Now he knew your address, and if you thought he wasn’t coming back, well, you would be sorely mistaken.

“Cute place.” His voice melted you and you couldn’t help but give him genuine smile. You did appreciate his comment, you had worked hard on your yard and house. This was yours. You wanted to make it perfect.

You begin walking to your front door as your heart went into overdrive. You feel like you should turn him away. You should get a rain check. You wanted this guy to come back, not help you with this. You didn’t want to scare him away. Before you knew it, both of you stood in the front door as you dug in your pocket for your house key. Finding it quicker than later, your hands shook as you unlocked the door. Before you could do the logical thing and stop him from coming inside and discovering one of your deepest and darkest secrets, you swing the door open and step inside.

It was quiet, thankfully, as you allowed this hunk of man to walk in after you and close your door.

Ghost didn’t know what to expect. You still haven’t told him what issue you were having and his mind was going wild. Was it a boyfriend issue? Landlord being a prick? Stalker who couldn’t get the message?

Looking over your house, he thought it was too fucking cute. Maybe you had a rat issue and didn’t have a man to help you out. Of course, Ghost would help you out. And you two would be discussing payment later after it was done.

He took in your soft yellow lights filling the room. An older episode of ‘Doctor Who’ playing silently as his eyes took in your posters that covered your walls. Some of them were older movies. A few he recognized, like ‘The Thing’ by John Carpenter and ‘Legally Blonde’ with Elle Woods. He had Johnny to thank for having control over the TV one night in the barracks and he didn’t want to admit that it caught his attention more than not.

Your bookshelf caught his eye next as he took in your collection. A few were a book series that he didn’t know but they looked fantasy in nature, and others were one offs and some horror books scattered around but one that caught his eye and made him turn back to you was: ‘How to tie up your partner properly and 99 other things BDSM related.”

He couldn’t help the smile, even if you couldn’t see it.

“In a bin’, yeah?” Your cheeks violently heated up as you realized he clocked your books and saw one that must have peaked your interest. You crossed your arms and laughed, heading now towards the kitchen to stir the crockpot, to keep yourself busy.

“Sorry about those. I don’t really get much company. They’re just for looks. Like gag gifts.” You tried to explain. Ghost followed you and took in a big whiff of what was one of the best things he's ever smelled before.

Look at you in your perfect little home, not scared to go to a bar filled with bad men, approaching him like it wasn’t a death sentence and respecting his privacy while he drank. And fuck. The food smelled delicious. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

“‘t’s okay, luv. You give me whatever’s cookin and I’ll get you in and out of any bin’ you want.” You thought he was still lightly making fun of you. You couldn’t be further from the truth. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Your heart was thumping thinking that the garage was too quiet. Was the man sleeping or did he escape? Was he waiting for you to check on him before attacking you again? Would this new man actually help?

Did you make the worst mistake of your life?

Deciding no time like the present, you needed advice and sooner the better, you stood by the door, less than a foot away from Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy and took a deep breath in.

“I was hoping you could help me with this. Help me…navigate. I don’t know how to explain it, so I wanted to show you first and then tell you, if that’s alright?” Your voice started off strong but got quieter as time went on. Ghost suddenly became rigid and aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t think of what could possibly be behind that door that you so desperately didn’t want to show him, but had to. You needed help. And you found him.

It didn’t matter what was behind that door. Of course he would help you, sweet thing. And then he would eat dinner with you, then fuck your brains out and while you were sleeping, install some security cameras before asking you out on a proper date.

You had interested the beast when you walked in bar, and his interest has only been growing since.

“Go ahead luv, I got you. I’m ‘ere.” His voice shouldn’t have calmed you as much as it did, but you couldn’t stop the wave crashing over you. You trusted him and that was terrifying.

Unlocking the door, you swung it open.

The smell was the first thing to hit him.

Dried blood and sour piss wafting in and leaking into your home. The darkness was consuming and you couldn’t see a inch in front of you until you flicked on the light and your horror scene could be fully realized by the man in the skull mask.

Other than the small green car that had its back door opened with dried blood covering the seat, a small freezer near the back exit and a shelf full of canned goods, there was a bloody man, tied up with his head off to one side, either dead or passed out.

“I know what it looks like but-“

“Little dove, this is exactly what you think it looks like.” You expected him to sound horrified, or at least disgusted. Not…amused. It startled you but you kept your cool. Maybe this was his initial reaction. He certainly wasn’t expecting this, you assume.

You head to the freezer to grab a bottle of alcohol. Rum. Ghost closes the door with you three in the garage and walks to the tied up man. He takes note of his stained and soiled clothes, multi-day stubble and greasy hair. Ghosts gloves hand reaches out and grips the man by the hair, waking him up and forcing him to look at Ghost with a dazed look before all sleep vanished and what was left was pure rage. Ghost held out his other hand for the bottle, which you did as you were told. He quickly made do with the cap before pushing the man’s head back and pouring some in his mouth.

“How d’ you end up here? Honestly.” His voice dropped lower than you had heard it before. It was terrifying and made you realize how nice he had sounded before. How much you enjoyed that.

The man tried to turn towards you but Ghosts hand wrapped tighter around his hair, refusing to let him move an inch. “Not at her. Me.” He commanded and you realized quickly that this man wasn’t just a soldier but a leader. A commander in his own right. It was terrifying and yet, strangely, horribly turned you on.

It had been way too long, you completely decided.

He had gave you back the bottle which you took gently before standing away from the two, trying to stay out of the attackers eye sight, trying to listen to the man who was clearly in charge now. The attacker sneered, his lips curled back as he gauges the guy that held him.

“This stupid fucking bitch-” before you could put together what happened, the attackers head snapped back and he yowled in pain. Fresh blood spurting out from his nose as now he laid crooked and absolutely broken. Ghost didn’t give him a second before yanking him back to him, anger now littering his voice.

“Wanna try tha’ again without insulting my little dove?” You couldn’t stop the warmth from flooding you. When was the last time someone spoke about you like that? Protected your character like it was your job?

You were definitely going to call him after this, you thought happily to yourself in this middle of the chaos.

“Oh fuck you man. Your girl is a fucking cunt-”

Another hit and after that Ghost began walking away, beckoning you with his fingers, which you obeyed without a care in the world. The man was left to himself screaming and when the door closed on him, his screams were greatly reduced but still there if you listened. And you did. You stayed quiet, gauging what the newcomer thought. Ghost stayed silent, and inched his hand to the bottle that you held which you gave him graciously. He pulled his mask up to drink and you looked away again, but you could hear it pour down his throat and it settled something warm in you. Once he was done, he pulled his mask back down and gave you the bottle and you followed lead. The rum eased some of your anxiety, letting you feel warm as you pulled off your shoes and sat on your couch, waiting for him to join.

Ghost grabbed a chair before dragging it and sitting it directly in front of you, invading your space. You wouldn’t complain. Maybe he wasn’t close enough…

“So, luv. I was expecting some boyfriend issue. Maybe dirty landlord, or a fuckin’ rat. But kidnapping and torture? Well. If you didn’t have my interest before, you definitely got it now.” His accent was deeper and darker but you couldn’t say if he was angry or not. Your eyes dropped from his in shame and landed on his chest before his fingers lightly gripped your chin to lift them back to his. You gulped before you nodded. Fear soaked you through and through. You needed to tell him your story. You needed him to understand.

“Well, I was driving home from after work…”

#cod #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #drabble #THOUGHTS #FEELINGS #THIS IDEA HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR OVER A YEAR #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod men #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #eventual smut #it’s so long I’m so sorry 😭

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all-mirth-no-matter · 6 months

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Ok but where I thought blink-182 failed with their Anthem Part 3 is where AJR very much nailed it with their Turning Out Pt iii.

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tonycries · 28 days

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Give Me Tough Love

Synopsis. What happens when your boyfriend just so happens to be mad at you? Well, your poor pússy might just know the answer.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brat-taming, angry séx, oral (male + female receiving), víbrators (Nanami’s), manhandling, unprotected, spanking (Sukuna’s), thigh-riding, intercrural, mentions of Higuruma and Shiu, cúmplay, bunch of heinous stuff idek, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.2k

A/N. Smh I’m sick, try not to catch my virtual cold.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Dirty mouth? He’ll fix it.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he spits, Toji’s hand tightening around your throat, pathetic little gurgles going straight to his cock. “Because I know you aren’t talking back to me like a lil’ slut unless you want to be treated like one.”

“T-Toji m’sorry- mpfh-” Greedily taking in the way your your mouth drops into a soft little oh! as he grazes his fat tip across your lips, glossing your lips so fucking filthily with his precum, all pretty and dripping down to your chin. Hot and angry, and at perfect eye-level for you.

Hand moving up to pry your swollen mouth open, “You’re only sorry cuz yer gonna get what you’ve been askin’ for, doll.”

You’d been extra mouthy with him today, all sass and snipey comments like you just wanted this to happen. And it only took one offhand remark about how Shiu probably lasts longer in bed before Toji’s pushing you onto your knees, hand at your throat, breath hot against your ear. And, well, that smart mouth can do nothing but beg for mercy now.

Toji scoffs, snapping you out of your daze, “Nothin’ to say now, huh?” edging his hips closer “Open wide f’me now, yeah- jus’ like that- m’gonna clean out this dirty lil’ mouth of yours. Hngh-”

And with that Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A raw little grunt leaving the back of his throat as your lips stretch so sinfully around his thick cock, and if he angled his head just right he could see the way your throat was bulging and full of him. “Shit, doll. Look at you struggling to take me.”

And Toji’s so mean - not even easing you into it before he’s thrusting in harsh, quick little strokes into your heavenly mouth. “Hah- Hard to take me all?” he taunts, loving the way you’re choking and gagging all around him.

Pulling you down on his swollen cock till your nose is pressed against those tufts of black hair at his base. So wet with precum and spit. “Shouldn’t be, no? Ngh- A lil’ slut with such a fucking filthy mouth like you should take me s’easily.”

All he gets in response is a low, wet moan, muffled around his cock. One that goes straight to his twitching balls. Smacking your chin with each thrust, so hard he’s sure it hurts. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, chuckling, “Heh, forgot you can’t speak with m’dick lodged in your throat, huh?”

And oh Toji almost considers going easy on you at the messy state of your mascara, and the way you bat your lashes tearily up at him. It’s only when you flick your tongue so sluttily underneath his sensitive tip in a way you knew would drive him wild that all thoughts of that go out the window. “So you like this, huh?”

Voice so low and dangerous it makes your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? You don’t even know because Toji has his hand wrapped around your throat again, hip stuttering filthily.

And then it’s like something snaps because Toji’s ruining your pretty face. Abs flexing as he drags your head up and down up and down up and- like some toy. God, he thinks, it’s fucking hard to look at you too - so sloppy with the way precum and spit was dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his dick bulging in and out of your throat. In and out in and out in and-

“Might let out a few tears, but I know that slutty lil’ cunt of yours has never been wetter.”

Reaching blindly to feel for his phone, he punches in that familiar contact. Cock twitching inside your plushy mouth at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Sputtering around his dick - but you can’t run away, because Toji has a hand firm on your head, pushing you down. Still fucking your pretty lil’ mouth while the line rings once. Twice.

“Don’t act so suprised, doll. All Shiu and I are gonna do is fuck some manners into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Karma’s a bitch

“Mhm, yes, Higuruma. I’ve told the supervisor to email me the documents. Oh? In the background?”

His darkened eyes sweep your figure - wrists tied, soaking through your panties, swollen lips falling into a little oh! at the bullet vibrator buzzing maddeningly in your dripping cunt. All controlled by the man himself, watching you like a hawk from the corner of the bedroom. “Must be the wind.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“Kento- please, wan’ cum. Ngh-” you whine pathetically. But it all falls on deaf ears, because Nanami only manspreads further on the armchair, a long finger unhurriedly coming up to signal you to be quiet as he continues on his business call.

Intensity setting 1.

Oh you could just cry. How did you even get here?

All you did was send him a few photos in his favorite lingerie while he was at work - who knew that Nanami would end up clocking early, coming straight home to absolutely fucking ruin you for that little stunt that had him sporting a rock-hard boner all through an important meeting.

“A voice? Ah, yes.” and that snaps you out of your little reverie. You blink at the flash of amusement in Nanami’s eyes as he continues the call. “Yes, a little fight as all couples have. Y’know how it is.”

Intensity setting 2.

You jolt at the stimulation, body jerking up for some - any - friction. “Kento~” you choke, tears clinging to your eyes now.

But oh where Nanami was usually gentle touches and sweet, sweet love - he was so fucking mean now. Licking his lips at the slick dribbling down your legs so sloppilly, spreading in such an obscene pool on the sheets below. Frustrated tears cling to your lashes - you just wanted to fucking cum.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say she’s mad at me.”

Intensity setting 3.

No, you were fucking losing your mind.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt- Blinking tearily at Nanami as his thumb draws quick, relentless little circles on the intensity. The vibrator throbbing against your walls in time with your quivering walls, just grazing that one spot. But purposefully avoiding it so that he could see you fall apart and all desperate.

He sighs, “I know, I have to make it up to her, right?”

Intensity setting 4.

“You have any ideas, Higuruma? Flowers?”

“Hngh- Kento- Please, wan’ your cock.” Gritting your teeth so that you won’t just scream or outright demand that Nanami ends the call and makes you cum right now, you settling for low, needy little whimpers of his name. Whiney in just the way you knew he liked. And by the looks of the painfully hard cock straining against his trousers, you knew it was working.

“Or, chocolates?”

Maybe it was working too well because Nanami’s amping up his abuse on your cunt. Devouring the way you’re reacting so sensitively to the way he was turning the vibrations up and down. Swollen cock twitching at the wet gasps leaving your mouth, thighs twitching and squeezing together so sluttily to get yourself off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” you blink away the tears in your eyes to risk a glimpse at the man currently driving you wild. Irritation spiking at the way he was huffing out a laugh, “I could just make her cum hard enough to see stars. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Intensity setting 5.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise - violent and fast. The last thing you see is the cruel little smirk curling Nanami’s lips before he’s setting the phone down with a quick goodbye. And then it’s all stars behind your eyelids as you finally cum, not even caring if whoever’s on the phone hears the strangled yelp of “Ah! Kento, m’cumming m’- hah-”

And it’s all you can do to ride your high out on the vibrations still stimulating your sore cunt. So sensitive and maddening that you almost miss the metallic clinking of a belt.

Ringing in the heady air, the complete opposite of the voice to suddenly very close against your ear, low and hoarse with desire, “Now, think it’s time for me to make it up to you. Hm, sweetheart?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Work for it!

“Get off on m’thigh, or you’re not getting off at all.”

Geto’s had enough of the cold shoulder today before he decides you’re getting one too - even when you’re needy and sat so prettily on his lap. It was only fair, right? Which is why he swats away the hand reaching for his aching cock, angry and throbbing in his fist. Twitching in his hand at the adorable little pout playing on your lips, “Nuh uh, bad girls don’t get what they ask for.”

“But Sugu~” you whine, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. “Already said I was sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it for that attitude you were givin’ me earlier, gorgeous.” he cuts you off, leaning back comfortably on the chair. Smirk only widening at the way your eyes were so deliriously locked on the way his fist starts moving in slow, languid little strokes up and down his swollen cock. “Now, y’gonna fuck that pretty lil’ cunt on my thigh or just watch? S’fine f’me either way.”

You huff at the way he was being so mean - letting a beat of silent staredown pass. One. Two. Cunt so achingly wet and dripping all over where you straddled Geto’s muscular thigh.

“Fine.”

You feel so dirty dragging your pussy all over his thigh like some bitch in heat. Your clit pressing down on his skin hard. “Sugu!” you yelp, hands reaching up to play with your sensitive nipples, still rocking your hips sloppily.

Fuck does he love your little show - and you can see it too. Catching the way his balls squeeze painfully, brows furrowing and locked on the way your folds were spread apart so sluttily.

“All that talk but look at y’now.” he hums. And Geto knows he’s supposed to be punishing you, but he can’t stop the way he starts bouncing his leg to meet your grinds. “What’ve ya gotta say for yourself now, my lil’ slut?”

“M’sorry!” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself as he fucks you on his thigh. So hot and messy. His skin glistening in the dim light with all your sweet sweet juices, trailing down to the cushion below and pooling at his heavy balls. And Geto was such a fucking picture - hair falling over his shoulders, bottom lip bitten, cock so long and mouthwateringly hard, flushed your favorite shade of pink at the tip.

Only bouncing his leg faster at your cute lil’ whines, like he was turning you into his slut - hit stupid lil’ slut. And all you can sputter out are strained little “M’sorry m’sorry jus’ lemme touch you. Wanna touch you-”

He cuts you off with a desperate, desperate kiss. A permission. A surrender. And you taste the sin and the satisfied little grin on his lips as you reach for his heavy cock. Drinking in the low hiss at the back of Geto’s throat as you start stroking him in quick, desperate tugs.

And he lets you.

Hips bucking to chase the feeling of your soft hand wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Faster. Your nails delicately tracing the pulsing veins along the side, swirling under his slit because shit you might act like it’s a punishment but you’ve never been wetter. “Fuck this hand was made f’me, you were made f’me.”

Previous anger forgotten - perhaps in some miraculous act of mercy - Geto couldn’t even care less if it was all sloppy, mindless little tugs and grinds, high off of your desperation. In fact, Geto wasn’t any better with the way he was snaking a hand down to draw steady, lazy little circles on your swollen lips.

Whispering against your lips, “Make us cum within the next five seconds or you’re going back to getting off on my thigh and nothing else.” Oh. Not an act of mercy.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Evil twin

“Sorry-” he’s murmuring into your neck, lifting your leg just a little bit higher to slide his cock messily between your swollen folds. “Ngh- sorry, baby. Fuck.”

Choso can’t even remember why he’s pissed off - or that useless little argument that led to this - but when Choso’s angry, it’s like he flips a switch. Such a silent tease where he’s usually all lingering kisses and everything you could ever want.

Which is why he’s got you splayed out on your side, angry, red tip kissing your entrance in a way that was so filthy.

“Cho, jus’ gimme your cock.” You arch your back, rubbing so deliciously against his abs, flexing with the strain to not just plunge into your pretty lil’ cunt right now. “Jus’ want you inside me. Please?” And shit Choso must be really pissed off because he doesn’t waver even at the way you bat your lashes at him, instead resorting to leaning down and kissing that adorable pout off your lips.

He bites down on your bottom lip, tugging ever-so-slightly as he starts sliding his cock inbetween your pretty thighs. Creating such a sticky mess as he moves in slow, shallow little thrusts - Choso was always so sloppy. And such a fucking tease as he angles his hips to just graze your swollen clit.

You gasp into his open mouth, mewling out a strained lil’ “Ah! W-wait what’re you doi-”

“Fucking getting myself off, what does it look like doll?”

Fuck, he was really mad. But that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck to glare at him - eyes traitorously drinking in his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, stray strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead while he meets your gaze head-on. Unwavering.

“Bit rude to get off by yourself, huh?” you scoff, raising a brow at the slow smirk curling his lips.

“You’d know a lot about being rude, huh?”

You don’t even have the time to react to his sheer audacity because Choso’s snaking down a hand to toy with your swollen clit. Still rocking his hips between your thighs. Loving the way all you can do is buck into his touch and whine so prettily as he rolls the sensitive bud between two long fingers. “But since I’m so fuckin’ nice, you better thank me, baby.”

“Y’like this?” he hums hoarsely, playing with your needy clit. Index circling your hole, just barely dipping in before he’s swiftly moving back to rub delicate patterns on the bud. “Could’ve gotten more if you hadn’t run that pretty lil’ mouth earlier.”

“B-but I want more.” you’re babbling deliriously, trying to meet his relentless little rhythm on your cunt. Just wishing that he would fuck you like you wanted him to. But no - not yet.

“More? You think you deserve more?”

“Yes!” and it sounds like a sob that goes straight to his cock. “Wan’ more please. Was wrong- ah- I was wrong-”

Choso isn’t even sure if you remember what you two were fighting about, but that doesn’t stop him from having such fun bullying you - high off the power and the way your cunt tries to clench around his fingers. And especially your little surrender.

“Exactly what I was waitin’ for.”

It’s like something snapped because Choso’s bullying his fingers in between your folds, curling deftly against that one gummy spot he knows will have you letting out such cute lil’ whines. Hitting that spot over and over as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt. Letting you soak him in all your sweet juices.

And you’re so sensitive and needy that all that spills from your lips are mewls of, “Oh- hngh- Choso Choso- yes, jus’ like that. Faster.”

Maybe for the first time tonight, Choso listens. Movements getting so sloppy and frantic as he chases your high. And occasionally you get such a delicious taste of his throbbing cock as his hips get erratic, fucking himself on your thighs.

You cum with a strangled gasp of Choso’s name, hips bucking wildly. White-hot pleasure running down your spine, and your blood roaring in your ears. It’s all you can do to milk his fingers the way you would with his cock as you ride out your high.

But luckily for you, you feel his weeping tip nudging your quivering hole. So heavy, precum mixing with your slick in such a sinful combination. Breath hot against your ear as he whispers a quiet little, “Actually, m’really fucking not sorry.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Plaything!

“Fuckin’” he kisses his teeth, hand raising up, up, up - coming down swiftly- Smack! “Brat.”

“Oh- Hngh p-please.” you gasp, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Nails digging into his shoulders for some - any - mercy from where you’re sat prettily on his lap, throbbing cock stuffed in your cunt. Hard and aching. Yet still unmoving.

Thumb drawing lazy little circles on your clit, fast enough to have your thighs quivering on his lap, but slow enough to not give you exactly what you want - he’s been teasing you for hours now.

“P-pleeease.” he mocks, voice so dramatically whiny, swatting your ass again. Sukuna doesn’t even know why he’s fucking pissed off, he just likes seeing you all teary and letting out such cute lil’ whines, trying to eagerly to please him. Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make it cock so painfully hard watching you try to grind your pretty pussy down on his cock? Fuck yeah.

Which is why he watches you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, and oh how he loves taking in this heavenly sight. Your cunt spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him.

His messy girl. It almost makes him want to play nice.

Smack! And that has you keening, pressing your sensitive tits harder against his front. “What do you want, brat?”

Your breath hitches, words shaky, “Want your cock, ‘Kuna-”

But the only response you get is a huffed out dark chuckle. Strong arms spreading your legs even further as Sukuna leans leisurely against the headboard. He scoffs, loving the way you were always the cutest when he played mean. “You already have it in your pretty lil’ cunt, want more could you want?”

“W-wan’ you to fuck me,” a hand trailing down to massage his heavy balls, moving your hips in slutty circles to meet his, milking him inside you. “Wan’ you to fill me up with your cum till m’dumb. Till everyone’s gonna know- Ah- ple-”

Oh how he loved all your dirty little tricks. “Hm, ya really were desperate for my cock, huh?” he grits out, jaw clenched and eyes locked on the way your dripping cunt was swallowing him up so deliciously. Like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Ya really that cock-hungry, brat?”

Smack! Speeding up his movements on your clit, your pathetic little sob rings in Sukuna’s ears and goes all the way down to his twitching dick. Massaging your plushy walls just right.

That makes you mewl and buck wildly, slurring out, “Yes! Wan’ed so bad. Wanted to be split a-apart hngh- on yer cock n’ filled to the brim.”

Fuck, Sukuna bites his lower lip, do you even have any idea what you’re saying?

He doubts it - and he doesn’t give a fuck because before you know it, your hands are pinned behind your back, and Sukuna’s fucking up into you in one, harsh thrust.

“Said you wan’ my cock, n’ you’re gonna get it brat.”

Messy and desperate as you’re being split apart by his massive cock, starting to ram into you with wreckless abandon. And you can do nothing but take it because Sukuna’s holding you still, arching you impossibly deeper into him.

“Kuna- mm ngh-”

“So cockdrunk that you can’t even speak, huh?” he’s high off of the way your words are a strangled mess. Such a pity you couldn’t do anything else either - with the way he was holding you still. Like some fucktoy from the depths of his treasury. Grip bruising on your arms, only being able to let out such pathetic lil’ ah! ah! ah! against his ear each time his cock hits your bruised cervix.

“This what my little slut wanted?” His hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. Hungry gaze appreciatively taking in the way your head was lolling against his shoulder, so cock-drunk and delirious already. “Now, don’t act so fucked out, brat. We’re only getting started.”

Well, he didn’t say he was going to be nice. Now, did he?

♡ GOJO SATORU - Candy for a bad day

“Had a bad day.” It’s all that announces Gojo’s arrival.

Startled, you whirl his head to catch that an uncharacteristic little sigh, he’s pulling his blindfold down haphazardly, raising his eyes to meet yours and oh-

Fuck, you weren’t going to make it out alive.

And Gojo wasn’t sure whether he would either with the way he was immediately slamming the front door shut, lips searing on yours as he shoves you against the adjacent wall with a soft thud!

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” you sputter, head spinning because he was here and then kneeling in front of you so fast you think he might’ve teleported there. Hand groping every inch of you he could reach, thumbing over your hardened nipples. Drawing little circles on your hips as he looks at you through heavy, half-lidded eyes.

You try to talk back some semblance of sanity into him, “Satoru, what happ-”

“Shut up. Those annoying old fuckers always fuckin’ piss me off. Dunno why you fuckin’ made me attend that meeting.”

Oh. That’s what happened.

Heaving in a shaky gasp, you let him all but rip off your skirt. Flinging them to God-knows-where with the audacity of a man that would buy you ten new ones to replace it. Gojo’s mouth falls into a soft little oh! at the heavenly sight of your already-soaked panties.

“Swear m’gonna purple hollow them all one day.” he murmurs into your pretty pussy, tongue darting out to draw lazy patterns along your slit. “Gonna have ‘em begging for their lives.”

Words muffled around the flimsy fabric - ones he rips clean off your hips with one hand. Not even letting you flinch at the cool air before Gojo’s pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips. Staring right in your eyes while he pops them into your mouth, sucking them clean and glistening with saliva in the dim light.

“Oh.” Eyes rolling to the back of his at the taste of your sweet lil’ cunt. “You always taste s’fucking perfect f’me. Can’t believe you’ve been fucking holdin’ out on me.”

And maybe Gojo loses his patience - maybe his sanity - because one taste, and he’s hooked. Diving face-first into your clothed cunt, breathing in your scent so fucking lewdly.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you whisper breathlessly, gripping those soft white locks for some stability. The only reply you get is Gojo licking long, languid stripes up your swollen folds. Your slick glossing his ruby lips, trailing down his chin. “It feels s’good.”

And he’s so uncharacteristically messy - making out with your sloppy pussy like it’s his last meal. All pure desperation, lips puckering so prettily around your swollen clit as he sucks on it harshly. Rolling his tongue over and over and-

“Hate that you made me go. They drive me crazy, y’know.” he slurs lowly into your sensitive cunt. Vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. “Makes me wanna wish I could stay home with you, eating this cute lil’ cunt out all day.”

“Wha- what nonsense, Toru.”

“Your cunt is addictive, pretty.”

You barely even notice the way that he’s the one holding you up, throwing a leg over his shoulder, looping and arm around your waist to pull you deeper onto this tongue. Close. So close. “Hngh- Toru-”

“Close?” he murmurs, muffled. “Can feel y’clenching around m’tongue, y’know. How am I supposed to tonguefuck my pretty girl if she’s sucking the soul outta me?”

He was such a little tease. Becoming as frantic and sloppy as you - dripping all over the hardwood floor with a maddening tap! tap! tap!

And despite the way he was devouring you - licking all over your pussy, tongue dipping in and out of your slutty hole - Gojo still finds it in himself to run his mouth. Babbling about how he’s gonna destroy the elders all while you’re in shambles above him.

“Hah- Toru, shit I’m close. M’gonna-”

“Give it to me, my girl. Wanna taste y’on my tongue.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes and Gojo’s tongue fucking you through your high as you grind down on his pretty face. Dragging your dripping cunt all over till it’s so messy that it makes your cheeks burn.

But Gojo doesn’t mind - of course, he doesn’t. In fact, his glossy lips only turn up into a slow, sly smirk as he stands up slowly from the ground.

“C’mon, gotta punish you proper now, princess.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | nanami kento

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader - nipple play - hair pulling - doggy style + deep impact positions - restricted movements (using his tie on your hands) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, love, sweetpea) - clitoral play - orgasm denial.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Oops, I did it again. Nanami being rough with his hands on your body. That's it, that's the tweet. Smthn quick thanks to MAPPA serving good food to the nanami fanatics on this week's ep

We all know Nanami Kento would treat his partner with the utmost care. There is no man you can put your entire faith in when it comes to your body than him. He's always perfect with you. Checking up on you to see if you're okay, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down from a haze, wiping tears on your face whenever he makes you feel so goddamn good. And let's not forget the kiss on the forehead he places so gently as he fucks you lovingly.

In terms of lovemaking and treating your body right, Nanami is undeniably the perfect candidate…

…However, there will occasionally be those moments when you’d want him to be just a tad rough with you. Nothing wrong with the soft, cutesy shit. No, no, you love it! But let’s face it; when you have a man who looks so deliciously alluring to the eye, with his broad shoulders and strong forearms that peek from his dress shirt, you can’t blame your mind for indulging with wilder thoughts. Especially when you express said thoughts to him.

And he listens to your request with his absolute attention. He’ll ask for confirmation before he does anything rash. And when you give him the green flag, your fate is sealed for the rest of the night.

“—Ggaahhh!! Ahaahnn!! Ken–Kentooo, you’re going—OhmyGod, OhmyGoood—“

“Shhh, don’t squirm too much, love.” He’ll whisper to your ear so hotly you nearly fall to your knees had it not been for his leg between yours, essentially making you ride his sturdy thigh. Your back pressed up against his abdomen while his hands roamed your body. One hand in your shirt, slipping your bra up to release your breast from the material, and for his hands to knead and play with your mounds. The other stuffed down your shorts and passed your panties, his fingers intimately close to your hot, wet folds. And you jerk when his ring finger presses down on your clit.

“Ahooo! Kento, stop, stooop!!” You don’t want him to stop — he knows you don’t want him to stop. “I’m gonna cum, it’s gonna happen—Nnnnmm!!!” He tweezes your nipple roughly, evoking an erotic shriek.

“You better come on me,” he demands you. Oh, how he sounds so hot when he does that. “Make my hand filthy like you, baby.”

But that’s only the beginning. Wait until you two move into the bedroom with his pelvis rutting onto the cusp of your ass. Face down to the pillow and ass up for Nanami to station you, and his hand in your hair, lightly tugging it. Sweat shields your body and glistens from the bedroom lights, your hands tied behind your back by his necktie. You’ve left with nothing to stand your ground, forced to take in his cock that churns your inner walls. And, God, it feels so fucking good.

“How’re you feeling there, angel?” Nanami, his pants and tie discarded with his shirt no longer buttoned up. The fingers in your hair massage your scalp. “Hmm? Are you feeling good?”

“…Uhhaaa—Ohohhh!” There’s no way you could give him a proper response in a position like this. Your head is so far gone that all you can think about is the commotion between your legs. The deeper he grinds his cock into your chasm, the deeper you sink into your blissful fog. Your hips begin to move involuntarily at this point; it just feels too exhilarating to stop!

However, attending to your bliss has its faults, especially when you’re not paying attention to the man making you feel this way. Because Nanami pulls your hair, forcing your face upright from the pillows. You cry at the sudden yank, exposing the drool and tears that trickle down your pretty face.

“You know better than that, Y/n.” His serious voice is on, your cunt twitches around his length. “I need your words to let me know how good you’re feeling.”

“Ahck—Mmmm…S’ too good, Kentooo. Y’ make me feel so good. So fucking—Ahannn…good….” did you mean for your words to slur? Who cares. Just don’t stop; please keep it going. Please, please, please—

Nanami chuckles at your words and lets your face fall back to the pillow. “Good.”

But don’t think the fun stops there. Nope. It just keeps getting better.

With your hands still tied, you now lie on your back to the comforter while he pistons his cock into you, one of your legs now on his shoulder to get a better angle to hit your sweet spots accurately. The wails you let out are uncontainable — there’s no point in stopping them from flying out your mouth. Your bottom lip is puffy from how much you’ve bitten it this entire time, and more tears fall to your neck.

Nanami looks at your expressions intently, mocha eyes never leaving your gorgeous face. It’s here that he finally withdraws his shirt and fucks you nude, sharing this intimate heat and passion with you. And, lord, he looks so fucking good right now. His tidy golden hair now with strands sticking to his forehead, sweat shared between your naked bodies, and his beautiful brown orbs taking you in like you’re the greatest treasure in the world.

“Ohhfuck, ohhhfuuckin—Ohhh!!!” Oh, God. With the way the tip of his cock precisely hits and scrapes your tender spots, you can feel your climax coming to get you. “Kento, Ken–Nnmphh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—“

And then it vanishes. It didn’t come. Why? Because Nanami immediately removes his length from your slick-coated slit, the electrifying tingles in your body subside in seconds. Of course, you whine to him with doe, tearful eyes. So cruel. He’s so just cruel, but you love it.

“Mmmm, sorry, sweetpea.” You know he’s not sorry. The tiny mischievous glint in his eyes is telling. “Let me hear you beg for it first, the I’ll give my baby what they want.”

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chuluoyi · 3 months

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:25 P.M 」

tw: pregnancy. overall, just some domestic dad-to-be gojo trying to show how much he loves you even with how your body changes and all <3 based on a request!

a part of gojo's love entries

don’t think that satoru hasn’t noticed how you linger in front of the mirror these days, touching your body all over—particularly your baby bump. seeing your face twist into a sad frown dampens his spirits too.

on the other hand, you understand that it’s a natural process, but you have never gained this much weight before, and despite already having your husband reassure you before, you still feel somewhat meh about yourself.

“how’s my favorite girl and little rascal doing today?” he flopped down on the bed beside you as soon as he returned from school, caressing your belly. “ready to come out yet?”

you throw him an unamused look. “no, satoru. and don’t make it sound so effortless. i’m the one pushing him out.”

“ahh, but i can’t wait though~”

his palpable excitement actually made you smile as you placed your hand over his. but then your smile fell a bit and he was quick to notice it.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked then. “talk to me, hmm?”

“no… it’s nothing.” you looked away, a bit ashamed. if satoru says he’s not bothered by your figure, you really shouldn’t be thinking about this any longer. you didn't want to make him worry… but it really wasn't easy to let it go.

“hmm, my baby mama can’t be sad,” your husband pouted, and suddenly he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “she’s the cutest when she smiles.”

you looked up to him, feeling the security in his arms and yet still a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “am i just cute… to you?”

you wanted to be beautiful too. like how he used to sing you praises during your school days.

satoru grinned. and it’s the kind of toothy grin that makes your heart soar.

“no. you’re also pretty.” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “and you’re smart, kind, nags a lot, gets pouty easily… and you're sweet like a dango, makes me want to gobble you up.”

“so now i’m a dango?” you nestled your head against his broad chest, feeling your face start to heat up, and a smile beginning to curve your lips. stupid satoru. he said all of them so easily it was making you giddy and felt silly for doubting him at all.

“just because our baby is going to be a mochi. and look, you’re so close to carrying him to full-term,” he rubbed your swollen tummy again, this time with a more sincere smile. “i love you the most for it.”

your eyes took a shine, processing his words, and you could’ve sworn that right now, nothing could’ve shaken your feelings for your silly husband.

suddenly your baby kicked you hard as if to reprimand you too for your insecurities, and you winced.

“hurts?” satoru questioned, slightly concerned when you nodded. “wait i’ll tell him off.”

he cleared his throat and began making circular motions on your abdomen, as if to summon him.

“yo, brat. you can’t kick your mama like that too often these days. you’re accumulating karma and she counts it. when you come out, she’ll forbid you from eating our favorite mochis and—”

“satoru!!”

and then the two of you just burst into giggles, and once again, you utterly and thoroughly fell in love with him. for always making you feel safe... and loved.

“you know, satoru...” this time it was you who hugged him, breathing in his scent for comfort. now you were totally worry-free, the softest of smile on your face. “i’m really grateful that... we found each other.”

at your heartfelt confession, satoru felt his chest tighten with warmth and his cheeks flush. he is so blushing and he tries covering it with a chuckle. and the words lingering at the tip of his tongue were—

“heh, aren’t you glad you married me?”

yeah... i’m so glad that it’s you too.

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dad!gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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alastorss · 3 months

Note

I really enjoyed the "touching Alastor's antlers" fic! Good stuff! I was wondering if I could request reader playing with his hair and braiding it maybe? Thanks for being great! Drink water and eat a snack :p

a/n: hello!! thank you for your kind words ^ ^ i hope you enjoy this fluff!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor can't pinpoint when exactly you developed such a strange habit of playing with his hair.

He first noticed it when Angel started giving him funny looks, pointing out the braids in his hair and that they were rather charming. Of course, the Radio Demon was quick to dismiss the star's claims that they suited him.

After that, he began finding little braids in his hair with or without others seeing them first. Like, for example, he would see them when he was dressing in the morning and peering into a mirror. Or other times he would see his reflection in his deep mug of coffee. They were less of a nuisance and more of a mystery than anything.

It had to be your work, surely. No one else would ever think to do something so pointless to him. And if this were some weak attempt to humiliate him in front of his peers, anyone else wouldn't have dared.

However, he never had any real evidence that it was you messing with him.

He should probably do something about it. It would be bad for his reputation if word got out that he kind of liked the delicate work of your fingers.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Once he's had enough of the mystery, Alastor decides to catch you in the act.

He turns his back to you on purpose, hogging the blankets as he always does, and pretends to be asleep. And just as he expected, your hands are in his hair less than ten minutes later.

Glaring at the wall, he lets you finish whatever it is you've done to his locks before he suddenly spins around in the bed to face you.

Satisfaction fills him as you yelp, scooting back in the sheets and sitting upright fast as lightning.

"You were awake?!"

Alastor just stares at you with narrow, unamused eyes.

"So it is you!"

You swallow loudly, nervously fidgeting with the blanket as the demon sits up in bed beside you. He scrutinizes your reaction, how shy you look, and his smile softens.

"It helps me sleep," you admit awkwardly. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

Alastor sighs with an exasperated shake of the head. "You simply could have told me, darling. No need to keep such a silly little thing a secret."

You perk up at his words. "You don't mind?"

He minds less than he'd like to admit, really. It also explains why he's been the little spoon so often lately.

"Not at all."

You breathe a slow sigh of relief before you're dragged into his arms. He lets you mess around with his hair that night, too. And he stays up a bit longer until your hands fall limp against the pillow beside his head.

The next day, Angel is surprised to see that the oh-so-feared Overlord has quite a few braids left in his hair.

He decides they suit him after all.

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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wooahaes · 6 months

Text

skz - forgetting to kiss them

pairing: non-idol!skz x gn!reader

prompt: u forget to kiss them hello when u come home

genre: fluff!! just silly fluff

warnings: food mentions :3 + intentional lowercase & no proofreading.

daisy's notes: couldnt b me. id never stop greeting them w kisses. no one look at how long jisung's is i was particularly delulu when i wrote it

bang chan

chris noticed... almost immediately that was off about you. the embarrassing part was that it was partially due to the fact you didn't greet him with your usual "hi, i'm home" kiss.

it wasn't that chris looked forward to that kiss (he did, but that wasn't the point). he liked to think he was just... attuned to you. that he could feel the general vibe you had whenever you entered a room. he wasn't missing your "i'm home" kiss--he was merely noticing that you weren't feeling great. that something was weighing on your mind. so he called out as he heard you go back to the kitchen to get something to drink, asking about your day.

immediately, he heard you let out a long sigh. "work was awful and then i missed my bus so i had to take a cab."

chris nodded. "ah. gotcha."

you made your way over, sitting down next to him. "... did i do something?" you looked over toward the door, trying to retrace your steps. you hadn't slammed the door, and you hadn't been too late coming home...

"nah!" he looked over, "i mean, you kinda didn't give me a kiss when you came home. figured something was wrong."

you stared at him for a moment. did you really always give him a kiss when you came home? you liked to, because it was your own little way of saying "hi, i missed you," to him with just a quick peck. after a moment, you leaned in, pressing a quick peck against the corner of his lips before planting another on his lips proper.

"there," you giggled. "is that better?"

judging by the way chris giggled back, pulling you in for a third... maybe not. (but it wasn't as if you were going to complain.)

lee minho

usually, minho didn't mind whether you kissed him or not. he'd always enjoy your kisses, and found it endearing that you pressed a quick kiss against his lips whenever you came home, but he never asked nor would he ever force you to do it. sometimes he'd kiss you as a greeting, though, just because he liked to see your smile.

other times, when he was feeling a little more devious... he'd call out to you, just like he did tonight. "you forgot something!"

you came back into the room, shirt half-unbuttoned as you'd been in the middle of changing. you furrowed your brow, pouting a little as you tried to figure out what was wrong.

he just smiled at you. "you did."

a moment later, it hit you. you snorted, and made your way over, pulling him in for a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer than the usual one you usually gave him. your hands fell to his shoulders, and you drew back. "there. is that better?"

"i missed you," he giggled. "is that so wrong?"

you rolled your eyes, and gave him another peck on the tip of his nose. "love you, too, you dork," you said, pulling away from him to go change.

(and the sound of your laugh as you continued away despite the way he lunged to grab at you, just barely missing your ass... all minho could do was smile to himself.)

seo changbin

changbin was a reasonable guy. he waited a reasonable amount of time (ten minutes: you said you weren't going to shower or anything yet) before approaching you in the kitchen. "are you mad?"

you looked up from where you were working on dinner. he was so genuine about the question, and it threw you for a loop. had you done something to imply that you were...? all you did was get started on dinner because it was your night to cook. "what?"

"we always talk about these things," he said with a sigh. he crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, eyes bearing into your own, "did i do something? you can tell me if i did. it's okay."

"binnie, honey, i have no idea what you're talking about."

"really?" he frowned, and gave you this look of disbelief. "you always give me a kiss when you come home, and today, you didn't. do i need to run to the store? did i forget something--"

oh! you almost laughed at how adorable he could be sometimes. "nope," you said, reaching forward to pull him in. "just got distracted when i got home." ever so casually, you kissed him, and planted an extra on the corner of his mouth. "good to know you'd miss my kisses, though."

changbin just pulled you in again with a giggle, content to steal a few more from you before he let you go... for now.

hwang hyunjin

hyunjin didn't notice at first. he'd been curled up on the couch with a book when you came home, carrying a few bags of groceries that you insisted on handling yourself since they were for tonight's dinner. it was your night to cook after all, and--after asking to make sure you didn't want help--he settled back into his spot.

and then it hit him eventually: you... didn't kiss him when you came home. why didn't you kiss him? you always went out of your way to do it, after all. he leaned up, looking over to where he could see you deeply concentrating on the recipe you were reading. then again, you had set down the groceries and lounged around for a little bit first--the two of you had even talked during that. maybe you were mad at him? he knew he'd been petty about things before and denied you kisses as a result. maybe he was the one who was supposed buy groceries...? but you didn't give him a list or text him anything...

"honey?" he called out.

immediately, it caught you attention. 'honey' wasn't really his usual term of endearment for some reason: you were always his love, his baby. "what's wrong?"

his face grew warmer--was it really that concerning? "nothing--" he started, but realized that you only grew more concerned. "you didn't kiss me when you came home."

"oh."

he decided to keep going, "did i do something--"

"if you want it," you cut him off, "then come get it."

he just stared at you. "... what?"

"i was thinking about dinner," you said, turning back to what you were cooking. "but if you want that kiss, you'll have to come get it."

hyunjin found himself smiling, pushing aside his blanket and the book to get up and make his way over to you. he kissed you, smiling into it as well, as his hands fell to rest on your waist.

all better.

han jisung

jisung was not afraid to admit that he was deeply in love with you. and sometimes... that meant he'd overthink the little things. his heart was so full of devotion to you that sometimes he'd get too deep in his own head, trying not to do anything to wrong you. of course, he knew you, and he knew that you'd always accommodate him by telling him things outright. if he hurt you, you pointed it out and asked for space so that the two of you talk things out properly when both of you were ready for it. but today you were sitting at the other end of the couch, a pillow hugged against your chest as the two of you watched TV. or, well, you watched TV. jisung was watching you.

"hey." his foot bumped against your leg. "did something happen today?"

you tore your gaze away from the screen, brows drawing together. "no?" yet you continued to watch him for a moment, eyes scanning his face for anything that would give him away. "are you okay?"

he nodded. even that confused 'no?' was enough to soothe his thoughts. you would be honest with him, after all: that was what the two of you did. he settled into the couch. "i'm fine," he said, hoping it sounded casual enough.

yet you tilted your head, as if trying to get a better look at him. "baby?" you set the pillow onto the floor, moving a little closer. "did i forget something?"

he grew flustered immediately. "it's okay--it's not a big deal--"

"ohh," you lit up, smiling as you already knew. he liked the twinkle in your eyes whenever you knew something. "i know what it was." you crawled over to him, teasing him a little, "my jisungie didn't get his kiss today--"

he found himself unable to fight back a smile. "it's not a big deal, honey--"

"nope!" you giggled, and practically launched yourself at him. he'd end up pinned against the couch, "gotta make up for it with extra kisses for worrying my jisungie."

god, he loved you. you peppered kisses all over his face despite his laughter, slightly pushing back against where your hands were at his wrists to try and re-ground himself better against the couch, yet you didn't let go. sure, maybe you were hamming it up and acting extra cute for him... but he knew what this was. it was a message, loud and clear, that you cared about him wholeheartedly. you knew he could get anxious sometimes, especially when it came to potentially accidentally upsetting you. 'i want to make you happy' was what you told him once. he hoped you could feel the way he smiled into the soft kiss you pressed against his lips. when you drew back, you just stayed there, hovering over him and admiring how the glow of happiness looked on him.

"i'm home," you said.

jisung just brushed a stray strand of hair away. yeah... you are his home.

lee felix

as much as felix wanted to whine at you playfully for forgetting to kiss him when you came home (a staple of your relationship, he'd joke)... he couldn't help but worry. he continued to work at dinner, mentally going over your interactions today. he knew you well enough to know that he hadn't done anything to upset you unless you were having an off day where everything annoyed you (no shame in it, he thought; he had those days, too). it wasn't until after he finished making dinner that he called out to you.

"did something happen today?"

you looked up, brows drawn together, but he could see the fatigue on your face from stressing about something. "no?"

he set aside what he was doing, making his way over to where you were sitting, laptop open in front of you. you changed tabs immediately away from whatever you were doing for work right as felix began to knead at your shoulders.

"this is cheating," you whined, head dipping back so you could see his face.

"and i'd do it again," he said, dipping down to plant a quick peck against your forehead. "you can talk if you need to. i don't mind listening."

with a sigh, you shut your eyes while felix continued to massage your shoulders. sure enough, there was someone you had to deal with at work that had annoyed you enough that you were still running through the conversations hours later. he just stood there, listening and nodding along as he continued to work his magic on your tense muscles.

when you finished, he leaned down to press another quick kiss against your lips. "feeling better?"

"a lot, actually," you sat straighter in your chair, reaching forward to close your laptop. "thank you, lixie."

kim seungmin

seungmin had sat on the couch for too damn long, pretending that everything was fine. yes, you didn't kiss him when you came home, but that didn't mean anything. clearly, it didn't mean anything. except maybe you were mad at him, and you were withholding a stupid kiss because of it instead of talking it out like adults. that was what the two of you agreed on: no going to bed mad. to say that you were mad and needed space. not... whatever this is.

"seungmin?" you had sat down at the other end of the couch. "what's eating you?"

his eyes were a little too sharp when he looked at you, frustration all too evident on his face when he was supposed to be hiding it. "that's what i should be asking you."

and then... genuine, unfiltered confusion. your brows drew together as you watched him, smile falling. oh.

fuck. you weren't mad at him.

"never mind," he says quickly, "it's stupid--"

you moved over so that you could reach out and take one of his hands in your own, "seungminnie, it's not stupid if it's bothering you!"

ah. using cuteness to get what you wanted. unfair. "you didn't kiss me when you came home like you always do, so i thought you were mad. so then i got made because we agreed to always talk things out."

immediately, you giggled. "aw, seungmin... you really like my kisses that much?"

when you leaned forward to kiss him, he immediately shrank away, trying to block your mouth from his own. "no! not now! it's not the same now!"

yet your laugh was enough to make him drop the act. your lips pressed against his, and he smiled into the kiss, happy to have your arms around him... even if you'd never let him live this down.

yang jeongin

jeongin considered himself one of the more mature people in his friend group. sure, he could be silly and goof off sometimes, but he'd heard his other friends with partners complain about the tiniest things that turned out to be nothing. so with you, he felt a little comfortable in assuming that your "i'm home" kiss just slipped your mind. you'd texted him your bus was running late, so he'd decided to make you a cup of tea for when you came in. and when you threw yourself onto the couch, saying nothing to him for a while...

well, jeongin had a pretty strong feeling that you needed someone to listen to you instead. he'd sat down next to you, passing you the mug as he leaned in to press a quick peck against your lips. his own little "welcome home" kiss that he'd try to greet you with sometimes, if given the chance.

"do you want to talk about it?"

he watched as you took a long sip of tea, letting out a sigh once you'd set the mug down. "work sucked."

jeongin nodded. "and your bus was late..."

another heavy sigh. you turned your face to look at him, reaching for his hand. he gave it to you without any teasing, and watched as you pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

"are you sure it's fine for me to unload all of this on you?"

"that's what i'm here for," he hummed, sliding in a little closer so that he could draw you closer. "you listen to me, right?"

the hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, and jeongin watched as you settled in, head resting on his shoulder. "right..."

he just pressed another kiss into your hair as you launched into telling him about your day. no need for you to worry about giving him any 'i'm home' kisses: jeongin would supply you with as many 'welcome home' kisses as you needed to make you smile again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

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lovedazai · 6 months

Text

PLAYING WITH THEIR HAIR

ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, tecchou

p.s.! ₊˚. inspired by this post on my old blog !! blowing u a kiss if u remember it, mwah <3 !!

DAZAI — dazai doesn’t know if he should let himself get used to this.

with freshly changed bandages and a full stomach, he lays his head on your lap, blissed out sighs falling from his lips as your fingers rub his scalp just right, gently tugging the knots out of his hair. he can’t remember the last time someone has made him feel so taken care of.

your nails drag across his temple, tucking his bangs behind his ear. he barely manages to suppress the shiver that makes its way up his spine when you trail your fingers down, tracing along his jawline.

he only opens his eyes when you lean down and kiss his nose, and he swears his heart stops; nobody has ever looked at him so softly before. he wants to spill his heart out, tell you how he’s certain you’re the reason he’s still alive.

he pulls the back of your head down to press a kiss onto your mouth instead, smiling against your lips when you huff. he whines when you pull away far too soon, raising himself on his elbows to follow you.

“you're supposed to be relaxing,” it’s always so hard to feel scolded by youーyou’re just too cute when you’re grumpyーbut it’s especially difficult now, when your smile is so sweet, and the tip of your nose brushes against his from how close you are.

he barely whispers "i am, i swear,” before his lips are on yours again, unable to hold in all of the love he feels; it bubbles up in his chest as he guides your hands back to his head.

the feeling of your mouth on his and your hands brushing through his hair is almost overwhelming, igniting something warm and tingly beneath his skin. he whines when you tug on his locks, soothing it away as your thumb traces the curve of his ear. he parts his lips enough for your tongue to trace inside, but you pull away all too soon again.

your nails trace along his scalp so gently, and you’re looking at him so lovingly, he doesn’t know what else to do besides pull you closer. he needs more.

his heart pounds against his ribcage, racing without his permission; he doesn’t think he can make it slow down, even if he tried.

CHUUYA — when chuuya comes out of the shower, it’s with a towel hanging low on his hips and the sweet scent of his expensive body scrub clinging to his skin.

you watch him sort through his drawer for a pair of underwear, the long section of his hair taunting you with the way it beads water, stray drops dribbling down his toned chest. his bangs fall limply over his nose, and your eyes follow his fingers as he brushes them back.

it doesn’t take long for him to catch your gaze on him, lips rising into a cocky smile as he looks at you over his shoulder.

“like what you see, baby?”

you nod, holding your grabby hands out from where you sit on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to join you. his smile only grows, and he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his waist before he settles in front of you.

the spot where your knees open is the perfect size for him to rest his head in your lap. you brush back all the stray pieces of his bangs, watching them flutter back against his forehead. his hair is like silk, smoothly gliding through the gaps of your fingers. you treat it like something fragile, even if chuuya was anything but.

"i'm starting to think you're only with me for my hair,” he tilts his head back to look at you, but you're quick to push it forward, shushing him. he pinches your thigh, but it doesn’t take long for his grumpy mumbles to fade away as your nails drag against his scalp.

you twirl the longer strands around your fingers, tangling and untangling them. you brush against the crown of his head, watching his shoulders sag. you wish he could have moments like this more often, always so busy protecting the city, protecting you.

you brush his hair to the side, placing a kiss on his neck as his baby hairs rise along his nape. when you peek at his face, his eyes are barely open, and soft, even breaths leave his parted lips.

“chuuya,” you brush your lips against his ear, and he lets out a little grunt in response. “do you want to go to sleep?"

“‘m awake, i swear,” he turns himself to rest his cheek on your thigh, pressing a kiss against the side of your knee. "keep goin’."

FYODOR — you had only come over to his desk out of curiosity, peeking over his shoulder to see what he was working on. before you even realize it, he’s talked you into keeping him company, and you end up in one of his extra chairs with your legs across his lap. the scent of earl grey fills the air from your half drank tea cups, a symphony of soft strings playing against the background of his quiet typing.

his ushanka is put aside, folded neatly on his desk. his bangs rest against his nose, stray pieces falling dangerously close to his pretty eyes. he hums his thanks as you tuck them behind his ear, touch lingering.

you run your fingers through the little pieces framing his face, tracing the way they curl inward towards his cheeks. your fingers catch on knots, and you frown. you don’t even notice that he’s looking at you from the corner of his eye as you comb through his hair, gently detangling it.

“you should take better care of yourself, fedya,” you whisper, twirling the smoothed strands around your finger.

“there’s no need,” he smiles. “you already do such a lovely job.”

it was rare for fyodor to let his emotions present themselves so physically, but in the safety of your gaze, he lets himself visibly relax. you brush your fingertips through his hair diligently, and each time your nails graze a certain spot on his scalp, his eyes fall closed, a little smile growing on his lips. he was just too cute, but you knew better than to tease; it was rare to see him so genuinely at peace. you wonder how many people had the chance to touch him so intimately, if at all.

“you’re quite the distraction today, dear,” he comments, leaning back in his chair, hand leaving his keyboard to settle on your thigh.

"am i?" you gather his bangs between your fingers, brushing them back so you can press your lips to his forehead. you let the dark locks slide through the gaps between your fingers, watching them flutter back down into place against his forehead.

just as your hand leaves his head, cold fingers wrap around your wrist, holding it in place.

"i didn't tell you to stop, did i?”

SIGMA ー when sigma first came into your room, it was with shaky hands and downturned lips, confidence visibly wavering in a way he only let show in front of you. you draw him into your lap, and he rests his head against your thighs with a deep exhale. you pull on his tie, loosening it as he scrunches his eyes shut, trying his best to relax.

“it’s okay,” you whisper. “i got you.”

you rub your thumb across his forehead, soothing his furrowed brows. he’s stiff in your hold, gripping his thighs through his pants, cheeks dusted pink.

you smooth your hand across his head, watching the way it makes his lips twitch. you brush through the purple side of his bangs, each choppy layer fluttering back down into place through your fingers.

you trace along the zig-zag of his part with just enough pressure to melt away the tension in his neck and make him unclench his jaw. both sides of his hair are separated perfectly, and you twirl them around your finger, watching the colors swirl together like soft serve ice cream.

when you look at his face again, he’s finally relaxed, with his pretty lips parted and his long, white lashes resting against his cheeks. you bend down and kiss him, smiling when his eyes open dazedly.

“have i ever told you how pretty you are?”

“yes,” he mumbles, fidgeting beneath your gaze. even quieter, he says, “but you’re the prettiest.”

his face scrunches up into a frown when you coo over him, pinching his cheek as he tries to swat your hand away. he catches it between his own, intertwining your fingers.

“can you…” he draws small hearts with his thumb on your skin. “…keep going?”

“only if you take the rest of the day off and spend it with me instead.”

he raises your hand to his lips, smiling against your knuckles. “consider it done.”

TECCHOU ー tecchou had sought you out as soon as he came home. he’d barely stripped off his uniform before he was crawling on top of you and snuggling his face into your chest, effectively pinning you to your bed. you smooth your hand down the lines of muscles along his back, tracing up and down the dip between his shoulder blades.

you trail your hand up his nape, burying your fingers into his hair. you comb through the mess, endlessly entertained at how it defiantly pops up in all directions no matter how many times you run your fingers through the strands or smooth them down beneath your palm. his expression is neutral as always, eyes closed, lashes resting against his rosy cheeks.

he’s been so still and quiet, you thought you’d lulled him to sleep, until you pulled your hand back and were immediately met with wide, expectant eyes.

you grab one of the longer strands, tickling his cheek with it.

“you stopped,” he says. “keep going, please.”

a giddy smile grows on your face, delighted he's enjoying this as much as you are. you gather his bangs through your fingers, running your nails against his scalp and gently pushing them back. his entire body is lax except for his hands, gripping your shirt, pressing you closer into his firm chest.

his eyes are heavy and lidded, finally falling shut when you scratch against his scalp a little firmer. his head tilts forward, but he straightens it each time, resisting sleep. you press a kiss against the little markings under his eye.

“why don’t you go to sleep?” you whisper, and his eyes crack open.

“but this feels so good,” he drops his cheek back to your chest. “i don’t want you to stop.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you seal it with a kiss against forehead. “your hair is so soft. i could do this forever.”

“okay,” you twirl a section of wayward strands around your finger, tugging gently, and he sighs a content, heavy exhale. “if you promise.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #sigma x reader #tecchou x reader #tetchou x reader #bsd fluff #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd scenarios #dazai fluff #chuuya fluff #fyodor fluff

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