#anyway thank you thank you for this ask!!!!!

[the-shedevil-writes]

Polaroids (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Bob keeps your relationship private, but he doesn't try to hide the dozens of Polaroids of you all over his locker and truck. He has a daily routine of taping his favorite Polaroid of you to his jet's console, but when it goes missing, things get chaotic. Luckily, you're there to make everything better. WORD COUNT: 2.3k WARNINGS: Bob gets angry in this one, folks. Cussing. Fighting. Hangman's an asshole- sorry. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3

Bob didn’t like talking about his relationship. It’s not that he wasn’t proud of her, or that he felt ashamed. But in fact, the opposite. He’d seen these animals, he’d call co-workers, and how they’d treat girls. Granted, the squadron he was with now wasn’t so bad. Rooster, Hangman, and Fanboy were hard flirts, but they had basic decency. He never felt embarrassed by their behavior when they went out to the bars, and they’d try and pick up a girl. If they were successful, they celebrated. If they weren’t, they’d walk away and move on. 

But it was his past experiences with other pilots. Locker room talk always rubbed him the wrong way. He did his best not to judge these guys. He had those thoughts, too, but he had heard too many dehumanizing things said about women he knew and didn’t. So he preferred to keep his gorgeous girlfriend, Y/n, under wraps, even if he did trust his current friends.

They preferred to keep their lives separate anyway. With Bob having his work and friend group, and Y/n having hers. It kept their conversations interesting, as they had their own lives to discuss, not just their shared one. 

The Dagger Squad, of course, would try and pry any information out of him. All they knew was that he had a girlfriend. Half the time, they’d forget what her name was because they had never met her, and Bob preferred not to talk about her, for fear they’d ask to see her. 

He was surprised they didn’t notice the Polaroids. Taking pictures of his girl was his favorite thing to do besides flying. He wasn’t exactly a photographer. But he made good use out of the instant Polaroid camera she got him for Christmas. It was so much better than taking pictures on his phone because he could hold the memory in his hand. The light and the moment were captured and printed instantly just for him. 

They were stuck everywhere. Photos over the years were plastered all over the inside of his locker. In his phone case was a picture of her wearing his glasses. And in the fold-out mirror of his truck was a photo of her taken off guard in the kitchen that she hated, but he loved. The one of her kissing his cheek was usually tucked in the front pocket of his flight suit. They all served as reminders of what he had waiting for him once his shift was over. His best friend and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. 

His favorite was the photo he taped to his control panel every day. It was a little beat up, naturally, but he made sure to keep that one in the best condition it could be. It was his good luck charm- the first Polaroid he had ever taken of her. It was Christmas morning, and she sat next to the lit tree, in his old Lemoore High School shirt that she had stolen for herself. She hugged the frankly huge teddy bear that he had gotten her. While the lights on the tree sparkled in the photo and cast a golden glow on her smiling face. For some reason, when he had it, the missions went better. The days went by more easily when he got to see his girl’s face after a stressful hiccup in flight. 

It had been a long and grueling day flying under the sweltering sun. They had been training for a strike mission, and the dogfighting exercises had left him drenched in sweat, and owing Maverick 200 push-ups. Thanks, Payback, for the BRILLIANT idea. And thanks, Hangman, for doing what he did best- leaving him in the dust and pushing his buttons. 

After an almost embarrassing amount of time, he walked back to the locker room with biceps so sore they screamed. He unzipped his flight suit and took his glasses off, using the white shirt underneath to clean the fog and sweat off them. He couldn’t wait to go home and find his girlfriend in her study, working. And he especially couldn’t wait to bug and distract her from all of it. 

That’s when the sense of dread hit him, and he realized. He quickly checked all his pockets. Yes, the one of her kissing his cheek was there. But his lucky charm wasn’t in any of the other pockets. He rushed to climb out of his flight suit and scrambled to throw on a random shirt and shorts from his duffel. He couldn’t leave it in the jet. Who knew what maintenance would do if they found it? They’d probably just throw it away. 

Throwing on his backpack, he sprinted back down to the hangar. He didn’t even notice the whole squadron standing around talking. He didn’t care. All he wanted was his favorite picture and for this horrible day to be over with. 

The sunset shone on his forehead, exacerbating the glistening stress sweat. He quickly climbed the ladder onto the Super Hornet and looked inside the backseat interior. The only place it could be. And when he looked at the spot between the radar and the comms control, he put his face in his hands. It wasn’t there. The memory of the Christmas lights and the bear was missing. 

“Fuck.” He said to himself. It was hard to get Bob to curse, but this felt like an appropriate occasion.

Then Hangman’s voice rang out behind him. 

“Hey Baby on Board! You sure this isn’t a picture you found on Google?” 

Bob’s head whipped back to find Jake Seresin holding the photo. On one hand, he was just grateful that someone had found it. On the other hand, out of all the pilots, he wished so deeply that it wasn’t Hangman. 

He quickly climbed down the ladder. “Give me it back, please.” He said exasperated, and walked towards him.

Jake held the photo up so that Bob couldn’t get it. Neither of them was short, but Hangman was just slightly taller. 

“I’m not kidding.” He said, trying his best to keep his cool. It took a lot to make Bob angry. He was typically level-headed and able to logically think things through. That’s why he was a WSO Top Gun Graduate, and not necessarily a pilot. But right then, his whole day had been building up inside him, and this was the one thing he didn’t mess around with. 

“I just can’t believe that a babe like this is with a guy like you. Really, you should let me call her up.” He said teasingly with a smile. After leaving Bob and Phoenix stranded, AND doing this, Bob was at the end of his rope.

“Hangman, just give him back the photo,” Phoenix voiced with her arms crossed. She and Rooster watched the whole interaction, which just made him feel worse. This was humiliating. It was like they were boys in a school yard- which Bob would say was an apt description of most of the people he had worked with in the past.

He reached up for the photo and finally got a grip on it, but Hangman didn’t let go. 

“I just think it’s funny! I wanna look at it. I think there’s more in his locker, too.”

“Just let go, Hangman.” His voice was less whiny and more serious now. 

“No!” He grinned.

The two tussled and grabbed at the photo. It felt like a moment that was way too long. Until eventually they each pulled in a different direction, twisting it. It completely bent. Thankfully, it couldn’t rip because of the type of film, but the photo itself was fairly distorted. Bob’s heart beat out of his chest, and it was like his stomach twisted the same way the photo did. 

He suddenly let go of the photo and pushed Hangman so hard he stumbled back, surprised. The photo slapped onto the pavement. 

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE,” Bob said, following after him, ready to beat the shit out of him. Even though at first glance, most people would believe that Hangman would win in a fight between the two. It didn’t quite look it at the moment with the anger in Bob’s eyes and his arms pumped from the earlier push-ups.

Rooster quickly ran over and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. “HEY HEY HEY!” 

Phoenix ran over and did the opposite, pushing her hand against Hangman’s chest, though he didn’t try to move forward. He knew he was in the wrong here, and it was clear by his guilty expression.

“Bob, man, calm down,” Rooster said. They all looked at him, surprised. Timid, awkward Bob was… kinda scary when he was pissed off. His glasses slightly crooked and red in the face. Maybe it was just strange to see him so out of control.

He slowly pushed Rooster off of him and walked over, grabbing the crumpled photo on the ground. After a failed attempt at straightening it out, he put it in his pocket and walked off, steaming. 

That night, when he got home, he slammed the door. He was never the type to do that, but he felt so defeated. His duffel bag dropped to the floor uncaringly. 

“Bob? Is that you?” Y/n called out from the study.

He sighed, a little relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” He said, his voice almost completely flat. That wasn’t normal. He’d usually meet her in the study, but at the sounds of distress, she quickly came out.

She walked out to find him hanging up his sweatshirt with a depressed look on his face. His usual smile was replaced by a small, tense frown, and his shoulders were high and stiff. Something was very wrong.

“Oh, baby.” She said, walking over, “What’s wrong?” Her voice was so gentle.

He sighed and quickly wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I need to shower,” He said, not having gotten the chance to on base. But he still squeezed her, needing the support dearly. 

She shook her head against his chest. “What happened?” She knew he was trying to avoid it. 

He stepped back and pulled the bent photo out of his pocket. “Hangman happened.”

She gasped at the sight of it in his hand. “Oh no… Is this a man or a dog we’re talking about here?” She asked confused, and that made him laugh a little. He was already so grateful to be home. 

“Man. Though he definitely acts like a dog.” He groaned.

She gently took the photo from his hands. “I can try and fix it. Straighten it out. There might be a crease still in it, though.” She tried her best to flatten it out like he did, but to no avail.

He shook his head. “You can try, but I doubt it’ll be okay.”

That answer was so depressing, she looked up and tilted her head. “Hey, we’ll get it back to normal. I’ll look it up. How about you go shower and eat? I made pasta cause I was too lazy to be a real chef tonight.” She tried to lighten the air. “Then you can tell me all about your day.” 

He sighed in relief. “You’re too good to me.” He said softly, pulling her in for a much-needed kiss.

And that’s exactly how they ended up sprawled on the couch, each with bowls of penne and vodka sauce. On the coffee table, the photo lay on a piece of wax paper and was buried under some thick fighter jet manuals Bob had. 

“It was just like the whole day had been building up in me. Payback’s bet. Hangman leaving me and Phoenix dead in the water. The two hundred push-ups. And the photo going missing in the first place drove me crazy. So when he bent it, I just… exploded a little.” He admitted, almost ashamed to have lost control.

She sighed. “That’s okay. It was natural after all of that.” She reassured gently, reaching for his calf and squeezing it. “This Hangman guy sounds like a real douche.”

“Understatement.” He said, but he was feeling better talking through it all with her. “I just hope that the photo is okay. You know it’s my good luck charm, and if it’s not flat, it won’t stick to my console very well.” 

A small smile appeared on her face. “It’s under some of the thickest books I’ve ever seen. If it’s not flattened, then that’s just defying gravity.” She said. 

He exhaled again, relaxing, and it was like the tension in him completely dissipated. “You’re right.” He said gently. 

“Hey, maybe after today he’ll leave you alone.” She suggested.

He scoffed, “Hangman? I give him less than a week before he starts using you against me.” 

She chuckled and set her bowl down so she could lie down against him. “Hmmmm, gotta get you enrolled in anger management classes then.” She teased.

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re funny.” He said sarcastically.

The next morning, he woke up at the crack of dawn per usual. He slowly slipped out of his girlfriend’s grasp, and she whined, half asleep. Their typical routine. He gently leaned down, ran his hand over her hair, and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep.” He whispered, and she subconsciously did so.

He got ready in his khaki uniform and walked out to the living room. On the table were the stacks of manuals. He very carefully took them off one by one and set them on the couch to soften the noise. Checking on the Polaroid, he sighed in relief as it was flat again. A small crease was across the middle, but at the very least, it was flat. He turned it around and saw something new. On the plain white back of the photo was a lipstick kiss mark over the folded line. In the tiniest pen was ‘A kiss to make it better’. 

And the biggest smile grew on his face. This was better than he could’ve asked for. 

Now he didn’t just have a good luck charm, but also a kiss to remember her by. 

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 9k words

✧ SUMMARY: this fic has always been 18+ but now especially I MEAN IT mdni, toji gets horny fr this time (like 2.5k words of just that), masturbation, toji gets turned on by love idk, rut/heat cycles, basically abo/hybrid mating tendencies, idk let me write my porn sigh, misogyny, um stalking, more hybrid mistreatment, talks of murder, the typical blood as a metaphor for love :/

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: lol okay i'm vv sorry for the six month absence.. had to get that degree :33 but hopefully this chapter being 9k words and having horny toji makes up for it.. however pls do heed the warnings! i yap a lot about mating and other abo things so if that's not your thing pls scroll TT.. anyways i'm thanking you all so much for your patience !! hope you enjoy <33

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"pause."

toji's form stops abruptly, and you bite back a chuckle when he turns to glare at you over his shoulder. "what?"

you grin, rocking back on your heels even as the rest of the street continues bustling around you. "i'm hungry."

the street's lights reflect over toji's facial features, and the way his jaw drops looks extra comical. "already? we just had dinner."

you frown, affronted. "that was like an hour ago."

toji snorts, rolling his eyes, though it comes off fonder than you expected it to. "so you want dessert?"

you nod eagerly, and a muted chuckle escapes the wolf as you catch up to his side. his jade eyes scan the lively streets critically, before falling on you again. "well, go crazy."

you immediately grab his wrist and tug him along, peering at different stalls and stores despite his protests. toji ends up just crossing his arms as he waits for you to buy your dessert (ice cream, you've decided. on a cone). he watches you grin as you pay and then hurry over to him, both of your hands full.

"here," you chirp, shoving a cone into his hand. a few melted drops stain his skin, still cold to the touch. "for you!"

he huffs. "kid, i told you i don't like sweets that much."

"that's what you say at first." you point your finger at him as you lick up the dripping sides of your own cone, gaze all too knowing. "but then you try it and realize you can't get enough."

toji rolls his eyes, but still obediently takes a lick. the flavor of chocolates and some other sweet confections burst across his tongue. it's strong, almost unbearably so, but then it settles on his palate and leaves a satisfaction in its wake. he can't help the subtle twitch of his lips, almost pleased, and you give him a smug smile.

(it seems like he will always be doomed when it comes to sweet things.)

you both walk home in relative silence, save for the occasional bit of chatter when you remember something you haven't told him. the streets are still bright and bustling with people trying to enjoy their saturday night, and toji feels a little more comfortable because it's so easy to blend in.

"are you sure you don't want me to hold those?" you ask pointedly, peering at all the shopping bags he's balancing on his arms. "aren't they heavy?"

he gives you a sidelong glance—affronted. "seriously? how weak do you think i am?"

you raise your free hand in surrender, biting back a laugh as you look at him with that same spark of a challenge in your eyes. "don't you sleep with a nightlight?"

toji's glare is boiling when it settles on you. "shut up and eat your ice cream."

you chortle, nudging his side with your elbow, and he groans under his breath. his fingers itch. it would be so fucking easy to just grab your free hand that's swinging listlessly at your side. the lines of his large, rough palm pressed against your smaller, gentle one. his fingers would curl around yours so gratefully, sweet and soft and yet still keeping you attached to him.

(he can't elaborate on how pleased the thought makes him. keeping you at his side, where he can always see you. where you can always see him.)

but all he can do is clench his fist, internally reprimanding himself for taking such liberties with you to begin with—even if it's just in his own head.

when you both make it back home, you hop in the shower quick and then toji takes his turn, so used to the mundane routine. he heads into the bathroom, not before making a sarcastic jab at your choice of pajamas for the night (doughnuts, printed in all shapes and colors), to which you just punch his arm as he cackles.

toji enjoys the feeling of the searing hot water burning into his skin. psychopathic maybe, but it feels comforting. it's not like he was given the luxury of hot water back when he was underground.

(that being said, even once he'd started living with you, it's not like he took hot showers often. in fact, he'd sometimes find himself relying on cold showers. especially when you were around him. a fleeting touch here, a meaningful glance there, and he'd find himself under pelting ice, breathing heavily through his nose until he's finally got himself under control.)

even now he tries not to think too deeply about that, focusing on enjoying his warm shower. he feels a little guilty when he stops to consider that you probably have no idea that his thoughts about you are so fucking depraved.

(poor thing. you don't deserve something so unhinged breathing down your neck.)

and unfortunately that's all he truly is. unhinged. an animal that lacks self control. and you are nothing of the sort. sweetness and good all bundled up into a human being. night and day, dark and light, sun and storm.

good and evil.

toji knows this well. knows that he has no right to let his claws tear into your perfect flesh and rip you to pieces. only monsters ruin perfection after all.

and perfection you were. he knows you don't really see yourself that way, but it's hard for him not to. reminds him of statue deities the old artists left behind to stand in museums under heavy spotlights. for people to flock to, eager and awestruck as they marvel at beauty like they've never seen it before. and he'd bow front of you, knees digging into rough earth, bloody and bruised as he reaches for your marbled fingers. letting stone gently tickle the sharp curve of his jaw, trace the scar cutting over his lips. maybe when he finally looks up at you he'll only remember your smile immortalized into the stone.

but toji is selfish. he doesn't want to worship a statue. he'd rather have you as is, life thrumming through your veins the way blood does. warmth bursting from under your skin and seeping into his own. and there's a part of him that knows you'd touch him so eagerly, ready to please and give him everything that he's ever wanted. you've already been so generous—giving and giving and giving some more. if he asked to let him take you apart, would you dare say no? would you let him sort through sinew and muscle until he's found your very core? would you let him hold your beating heart in his claws no matter how many times they nick the flesh and make you bleed?

you would, with stars in your eyes. in fact, there's a greedy part of him that thinks you'd do the same in return. tear him apart piece by piece with careful fingers until he's nothing but laid bare in front of you. press your flesh against ragged scars and bruised skin, rough with use and danger. if he focuses a little harder, he can feel your touch linger on those scars. your lips will follow, pressing deep against his blood, staining you wine red. but you'll just smile, light bursting behind your silhouette (angelic; awe-inspiring), and he'll once again be speechless in front of you.

(powerless in every sense of the word.)

this is followed by yet another dangerous thought��just how much of an animal would you let him be?

it would be easy to cage you between his arms, close enough that he can count every eyelash and see every shade in your skin. it would be easy to hook his claws around the waistband of the fabric that hid you away, press a searing kiss into the stripe left by the elastic. it would be easy to reduce you to a shaking mess, quiet whimpers escaping into the space only he shares with you.

it's ridiculous, how quickly his obsession bleeds into arousal. a thin line, his toes dancing over it. but he doesn't have it in him to dwell on the shame behind it. it's instantaneous, how heat starts thrumming through his veins at the thought of you, alighting every expanse of flesh and breaking through skin.

toji bristles, tail flexing even under the weight of the water.

you have to know what you're doing. weren't you ever warned about dangers like him? wasn't it common sense not to dangle prey in front of a predator's eyes?

(though, if he's being honest, toji doesn't feel like much of predator. if anything, you're the predator, circling him with attentive eyes that makes his hair stand on end. makes him want to expose his underbelly and let you pounce.)

it doesn't make sense to him, how his mind relates someone as sweet as you to a role so unflinchingly unkind. in reality, the only one who's fucked enough to take on that role is him. the true animal—unhinged, reckless, cruel.

the only one who'd dig his fangs into your flesh and tear you apart with no hesitation. let sweet blood drip from his lips, lapping away until not a drop is left. reverent—because he knows how valuable it is.

the problem is you'd let him.

welcoming, with open arms and a warm smile that makes him want to take even more. more and more until nothing is left.

(would you enjoy it? his claws encircling your fragile wrists and pressing them into sheets. heavy body weighing yours down, scarred muscle meeting soft flesh. fanged teeth digging into the tender meat of your lips. perhaps you'd tell him as much, quietly sighing into his mouth, singing his praises and whispering a sweet combination of toji please, more.)

blood rushes south, his cock hardening so quick it's almost humiliating. this had been an ongoing issue for months now. toji never thought anyone would have the ability to drive him up the walls like this. not that you had gone around deliberately trying to give him a hard time (no pun intended), but it'd become more difficult to ignore. even just noticing little things—like the texture of your fingertips against his skin or the way your scent bleeds into the walls of the house. or the way his height towers over you and forces you to look up at him in a way that is so easy to imagine in certain other scenarios. in between his legs, gentle hands on his knees, eyes peering through lashes, and swollen lips wrapped around his—

fuck.

he's rock hard now. thick and aching in a way that makes him feel almost ashamed because there's no reason he should be acting like a whelpling who's just been thrown into a rut for the first time. no, he'd been an adult for a long time. one that had gotten through a lot worse than this.

(it's seared into his brain, the way the faceless doctor from the underground would hand him suppressant pills a couple weeks before a rut was due to hit, eyeing him to make sure they were swallowed without any issues. his body remembers scratching at the stone ground of a cell as he snarled through the pain of one of his most natural instincts being manipulated through a drug.

it was normal for them. every hybrid there had experienced being put aside for a day or two, labeled "out of commission" for a fake sick period while they rode out their cycles with no help or relief.

what would've normally been a couple weeks of rut was cruelly suppressed into two short days. in that time, toji was confined to a special cell with no outside contact. no fights, no interactions with any other hybrid.

all he had was the time to get increasingly more feral and frustratingly turned on. and no way to deal with it but ruthlessly fucking his own fist until he was exhausted.

exhausted, but never satiated. never satisfied.

after all, the suppressant pills couldn't erase the nature of his instincts. the part of him that craved not for a simple release, but for the experience of sharing a rut with someone. craved forming a connection with another being who could not only provide relief through it, but also take every bit of devotion he had to offer. the pills were effective in dulling down the intensity of ruts and heats, and shortened the length of them tremendously. but even after all that, they were still animals—there was no denying it. no, none of it could be erased; the instinctual craving for a fucking mate.)

all of those years under suppressants had made toji forget what a real rut felt like. but if it's anything close to the way he'd been feeling lately, he was definitely screwed. his mind had become increasingly more creative, able to conjure up the most inappropriate images of his most shameful fantasies. and this issue could only be fixed by jacking off until cum was dripping between his fingers and he felt even more ashamed than he did before.

which is exactly what he's being pushed to right now.

it seems almost instantaneous the way his fist wraps around his cock, throbbing flesh hot and angry. he bites back a hiss at the sensitivity, the hot water doing nothing to help his already searing flesh.

toji knew to start expecting flare ups of arousal. after all it was just a part of his nature, but a headache all the same. unfortunately, when escaping that hellhole he called a home, he didn't think about what would happen to his body now that those bastards weren't pumping his body full of suppressants.

sukuna had once said that it was their way of stripping them of their natural instructs, domesticating hybrids without them even knowing. the thought had pissed both of them off, but the tiger was right. nothing inherently natural about controlling such a significant facet of their bodies.

if he had more time to prepare his escape, he would've broken into the medical wing and stolen a few years' worth of suppressants for himself.

hindsight. instead, now he has to deal with these admittedly intense pangs of carnal desire. he knows why. how long had it been since he'd had a natural rut? definitely not since eighteen, because that's when he'd given up his freedom and they started feeding him suppressants (after all, can't have a feral wolf in rut running free throughout the barracks; bad for business; too dangerous to control). it makes sense that his body is working on overdrive now that it's finally tasted freedom.

(finally tasted a sweet scent and warm smile.)

toji isn't sure what he'll do when his rut really hits. he had thought that maybe he could get away with lying to you, passing it off as some contagious sickness and locking himself in his room for a few days until it passed. but then he got nervous thinking about just how bad this rut might be, and he figured he probably wouldn't be able to keep it from you even with the walls acting as a barrier.

there was also the option of telling you the truth. you'd probably be so accepting about it; after all, you've been nothing but understanding. and it seems like you know more about hybrids than your fellow humans, so he's sure you wouldn't judge him for something he can't really control. and yet despite all that, the thought of telling you feels strangely nerve wracking. some strange implication behind admitting just how vulnerable he'd truly be (and some sick thrill at the unspoken boundary that could end up being crossed).

a boundary line that he had scratched into the floor over and over again. so intent on denying the thought of ever being that close to you.

and yet he can't deny it. can't deny that the idea of trailing his tongue over the swells and divots of your body doesn't make him salivate. like the thought of your lips pressing into the ridges of his neck doesn't make his ribcage jump.

(like the thought of you saying yes to him doesn't make him want to lay the entire galaxy at your feet. because saying yes to him means something more than you'll ever realize. means bonding yourself to him for a lifetime. souls intertwined, the way only a mate can be—)

toji's presses his forehead against the damp tiled wall, exhaling shakily. there's a reddish pink shade crawling up his skin, spreading like liquid gold. his fist feels like nothing special, but it still offers a semblance of relief from that stupid aching feeling. the warmth of the water and the remnants of soap makes it easy for his fist to slide back and forth, and god he's so fucking hard. he's starting off fast, but he doesn't really care. all he knows is that it feels good, and it's utterly humiliating to be jacking off in the shower when you're just across the hall, so he just wants to get it over with.

but his brain? his brain lingers, cruel in its torture.

if he closes his eyes, toji can picture you doing it instead. your hand's a lot smaller, but it's softer than his—not rough with scars and callouses and danger. maybe you'd touch him slower, not as stupidly fast as he is, not with the mission to just get off and be done. no, you'd probably touch him with intention, eager to take him apart. he'd be glad to let you do as you please, so pathetically ready for whatever you want from him.

his fangs dig into the scar cutting over his lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. he thinks about sinking those fangs into the open canvas of your neck, and his dick twitches in response, eager and swollen. he tightens his grip and twists his wrist in the same way he's always done, knowing it'll get him there quick.

toji's head presses harder into the tiled walls, and he blinks the water away from his eyes as he tries to focus. his brain conjures up a strikingly detailed image of you pressing your lips against his dick, and that itself shoots a searing hot flash of arousal up his spine. but that's not all. he imagines that you'd be a lot more generous with your touches than he is. you'd touch him all over, gentle fingers tracing over the curve of his jaw and over the slopes of his cheeks. down over the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. gentle, the way only a lover's caress could be. chills run over his skin, the shiver so pleasurable it makes his breath hitch.

his high creeps up frighteningly fast, tingles shooting up the nerves in his body like he's never touched himself before. the muscles in his arm strain as heat pools in his lower belly, licking at his insides like an uncontrollable flame. the sound of the soapy water each time his hand moves is embarrassingly inappropriate, and he's briefly struck with the filthy thought of the type of sounds he'd be able to pull from your body if you just gave him the chance.

he wonders where to touch you to make you sing. where you'd be the most sensitive. what spots would have your voice catching on a strangled moan or have a breathy whimper escaping your throat. maybe you'd beg him for more, or perhaps you'd demand it from him. maybe you'd give in finally tell him what he's been dying to hear. in that same sweet voice, quietly sighing an earnest toji, i love y—

ropes of cum splatter between his fingers, and he's thankful that his muffled grunts are drowned out by the shower. his hips twitch, instinctual, and his dick pulses with every spurt, pelvic muscles contracting with effort. and throughout all of it, all he can think of is you.

(horrible, he is. so dirty, filthy.)

"ah fuck—" he feels messy, and hypersensitive. he stands there for a minute, catching his breath and doing his best to quell the mess in his head. it takes all but a minute to wash away the evidence of his crimes, but the thoughts of you still linger—infectious and deep.

(he thinks maybe he'll never be rid of you. you've latched onto him the way he has to you—parasitic and flesh deep. some part of him really likes that; a sick and twisted part.)

the wolf huffs out a tired sigh, standing under the pelting water like some kind of mindless idiot. what kind of freak was he? you offer him a place in your home and here he was jerking off in your shower with nothing but filth in his head. he's terrible; a dirty animal.

and yet, he feels good. feels good in the same way he feels when he sees you smile. or when you finally come back home. or when you grin at him from across the dining table as you watch him dig into his food. or when you accidentally fall asleep while watching some stupid movie.

his brain is foggy, and there's still a few aftershocks of pleasure tickling his nerves. but his guilt is smothered by that good feeling, pressed down into the deep recesses of his subconscious as he focuses on how you seem to have such an influence on his emotions.

(powerful, sneaky little thing.)

"hey toji?"

your muffled voice cuts through the pleasant haze in his head, and the panic is instant. he flinches so hard his elbow thuds against the shower wall, eliciting a yelp that he tries hard to recover from.

"y-yeah?!" he winces at the voice crack (trying to pretend he didn't just bust to the thought of you not a minute earlier), and clears his throat.

"i'm running low on period stuff so i'm gonna run down the street and grab some pads."

"i can go grab em if you want?" he replies, scrubbing his skin with a quickening pace, but then you chuckle and wave him off.

"no no it's fine. enjoy your shower. it's like two streets over, i'll be back soon."

"well…" he hesitates, but then nods even though you can't see him. "fine. be careful, y'hear?"

"yeah yeah…" your voice fades away as you head down the hall, and toji's shoulders relax. for a second he thought you might've somehow heard his less than appropriate little session, but instead you're just updating him on something he probably wouldn't have cared about many months ago. but here he is, ultimately caring so deeply.

hot water streams between toji's eyes, and he pushes his wet hair back with a tired huff. his ears fold under his palms, muffling all noises and for a second, the raging thoughts in his head subside.

(if it were up to him, he'd stay in this peaceful bubble for as long as he could. hoping, dreaming, praying that you'd join him in the space with no protests. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.)

****

the streets are a lot more deserted than they were a few hours prior, back when you were dragging toji to eat ice cream. now there's only faint chatter, the occasional squeals of laughter and excitement permeating the sounds of your slippers against pavement. normally you would've dragged toji out with you, especially so late on a saturday night, but since this is barely a 15 minute walk and you've been here countless times before, you decided not to bother him.

after all, you would grant toji as much peace as you could give him (god knows he deserved it and more).

there's some faint song playing over the speakers when you enter the store, instantly fading into muted background noise as you smile at the elderly man behind the counter. he recognizes you, a local frequenter, and smiles back before going back to the paper he was reading. your steps take you to the feminine products quickly, memorized route guiding your feet, and then you're scanning the shelves for familiar colors and brands.

the store is almost completely deserted, save for a few other likeminded individuals who needed a late night run. your fingers drift over boxes until you finally find the brand you like.

"excuse me? can you help me with this?"

the flinch that comes from you is almost embarrassing, but you're genuinely impressed by how quietly this guy seems to have snuck up on you. you glance over your shoulder carefully.

dyed blonde hair, dark roots, narrowed beady eyes. and yet a sheepish, awkward smile that makes your shoulders drop when you notice the box of pads in his head. you tilt your head questioningly, quirking a brow. he raises the box. "my girlfriend sent me out to get supplies but i have no clue what to pick for her…"

the helpless smile that crawls onto your face feels natural. at least he was trying, that in and of itself was a lot to ask for these days. "well do you know if she has a heavy flow or a light one?"

"heavy i think?" his brows furrow thoughtfully. "she says she bleeds a lot…"

"well then this is probably better for her than that." you reach for a different box on the shelf, one that's specifically labeled for handling heavy bleeding. "they're better for heavier flow. and they're longer so that should help her out."

he takes the box from you carefully, before smiling. something shines in his dark eyes. "thank you so much. i'm clueless when it comes to this stuff."

you chuckle, shaking your head. "no it's okay. at least you're trying."

"i would've been lost without your help. i'm naoya by the way." his smile gets a little more pointed, that gleam in his gaze brighter. he sticks his palm out expectantly.

warning bells start ringing in your head, but you don't know why.

"oh uh, nice to meet you…" you trail off, cautiously taking his hand. you're sure he's being polite, but you don't really understand why he's telling you his name. maybe it's paranoia, but you bite your tongue and hold off on giving him yours, something telling you that maybe you shouldn't be sharing that information.

the blonde doesn't comment on your lack of forthcoming, but something feels off. he looks like he knows something, like he's dissecting you on a surgical table. you let go of his hand, and awkwardly smile, before turning back to the shelf. his voice gets a little louder. "naoya zenin."

you freeze. the name washes over you, a brief sense of warmth, before it bleeds into something cold and jarring. you know this name well—heard it murmured from scarred lips a few times (in a voice that was filled with nothing but distaste.)

now if you think back, you can remember the same blonde hair and dark eyes being in the background of pictures you've seen on the internet. random news articles of what the head of one of the biggest companies in the country did that day. you don't know why you couldn't remember it earlier. maybe you just weren't expecting to see naoya zenin at your tiny little store so late at night. but he looks calm, as though it's all intentional, as though you should've expected to bump in to him like this.

the warning bells ring louder.

"so!" the blonde claps his hands together, brightly smiling as though he's catching up with an old friend. "how is he?"

you feel your tongue grow numb. an image of a moody scowl and twitching ears flashes behind your eyes, and you finally realize that warning bells had nothing to do with your own safety.

(too preoccupied with dedicating your care to someone else. someone who's probably patiently waiting for you back home.)

"who?" you're playing dumb, and you're sure he knows it because he just laughs and quirks his brow knowingly.

"you know who." he pins you with a level stare. "toji of course. my precious cousin."

you remain quiet, mind spinning. you're not sure if you should lie or continue playing dumb or just run and hope he isn't fast enough to follow. but naoya just continues on without a care in the world.

"let's stop beating around the bush." the blonde's smile drops, voice going serious in the same way you've seen it go on those television interviews. "i don't know how or why you're connected to him but i'm sure you know what he is by now."

"ah yes the wolf ears and tail really gave it away," you reply sarcastically, not even bothering to keep the bite out of your tone. naoya grins predatorily, making a show of leering at your blatant hostility.

"well yes, the poor beast was unfortunately born that way." naoya waves offhandedly, before his expression sours. "just my luck, he had to be born into my fucking family."

you snort out a scornful laugh, crossing your arms. "well it makes sense. i mean he might be the wolf, but it's pretty clear that dogs run in the family."

naoya pauses, before his smile returns. this time, it is icy, and yet there is spark of malice flickering in his eyes. "hah! you're more interesting than i thought. you look so boring from afar, you know?"

you glare at him irritably.

"but! you're much more entertaining than i expected. maybe that's why toji's hanging around you." naoya glances down at his fingernails with feigned interest, his voice dropping. "it's a shame he didn't teach you any manners though."

his hand drops to his side, and his expression darkens so fast it makes your head spin. "if it were up to me, i'd cut your tongue out and deliver it to him, you know?"

your bravado shatters, blood going cold. naoya seems to catch the change, so he just smiles again with that fake politeness. "but father says we should be nice and talk it out. so that's what i'm doing! i had no clue how i was going to find the time to chat with you, but i'm glad i caught you today."

you swallow, fingers creasing into the sleeves of your sweater.

"you know, when i told father i saw toji with you today, he was surprised. that freak doesn't seem like the type to get help from others, let alone humans like you and me." the blonde hums, amused. "but seems like he liked something about you. that, or you had something pretty valuable to offer."

you almost roll your eyes. clearly this asshole liked to hear himself talk.

"i mean i'm kinda surprised that you got close to that freak. don't you have any survival instincts?" he tuts, exaggeratedly pouting at you like you're nothing but a dumb child. the blood in your veins grows hot with indignation.

"he's not dangerous." your voice is resolute, stating a fact rather than an opinion. naoya observes you with mild interest. he hums thoughtfully, and you shift your weight not knowing what to do.

"you know, i saw you both being all cute on your little shopping trip." naoya's expression turns bored, almost like he's disgusted. he leans against the shelves haphazardly. "it's a shame i lost you both in the crowd as you left though. i would've stopped by at your house otherwise."

the threat is not lost on you. and something churns in your gut when you think about this man being anywhere near your house. near toji.

"i don't understand," you say, raising your head. you have no clue how you manage to keep your voice steady when your heart is beating so fast, but you'd rather not look too deep into that. "what exactly is it that you want from me?"

"you have…influence," naoya grins, peering at you. his expression is mocking. you think you might vomit. "i'm sure you can bat your eyes and convince my dear cousin."

when you swallow, it feels like rocks are sliding down your throat. "convince him to what?"

naoya's grin drops, eyes narrowing dangerously. "to go back to where he belongs."

your words tumble forth before you can even stop them, hot and indignant. "and what if he doesn't want to go back there?"

a burst of laughter escapes his throat, though it is sharp and unamused. "don't you get it? he doesn't have a choice. that's all he was born to do anyway."

you glare at him, teeth digging into your tongue so hard it hurts painfully. naoya's expression turns bright, a very dramatic flare of sick amusement filling his tone. "ohh i finally get it!"

he leans closer to you, smirking. "who would've thought my dear cousin went and found himself a girl!"

the traitor organ sitting in your ribcage gives an eager jump, getting distracted by its original threat. you steel your expression. "what are you even talking about?"

"no need to play coy. i understand!" he raises his arms like he means no harm, a greasy smile still splitting his face. "that just means you really should be able to influence him."

"you don't even know what you're saying." you roll your eyes, turning away from him, though you still keep his figure in your peripheral. "it's not even like that. we're barely even friends. the most i would say is acquaintances."

the lie bleeds through your teeth easily, molten lava. worth it if it means keeping him safe. away from the treacherous vines that seem so intent on chasing him and pinning him down.

"oh sure." the blonde chuckles, looking at you with a sharp mockery in his gaze. it's obvious he doesn't believe you, especially with how quickly his tone turns chilling. "i don't really give a damn who you are to him. let him know what he needs to do, or we're gonna have a problem."

"and if i can't convince him?"

naoya shrugs casually, but then he pins you with a stare that makes you feel like your bone marrow is turning to lead.

"well then, we'll just have to see what happens, won't we?" he says nothing more, but the implication is very clear. the blonde then glances down at the pads in his hands. his expression goes disgusted once more, and he haphazardly chucks the box back onto the shelf. "ew…" he mutters, dusting his hand over his coat. his eyes find you again, and then that same smile appears once more. "anyways, i'll definitely see you around! get home safe!"

your pulse is thudding wildly as you watch him leave, a heavy onset of nausea making your stomach churn like never before. the hidden threats were so carefully placed, but not obscure enough for you to miss, and that scares you even more because it says that this guy is just that confident. you stand in the aisle for another two mins, mind running in a thousand different directions. suddenly you feel strangely exposed, like you've been placed into a glass box for someone to observe your every movement.

(suddenly, you feel completely and utterly alone. scared and vulnerable and in real danger. suddenly, all you can think about is the brooding wolf you've left at home, and how seeing him is the only solution to making these feelings go away.)

you're out the door before you even realize it. your legs carry you back in the direction of your home, but your paranoia leads you to take as many convoluted turns that you can think of (because you can't shake the feeling of those beady brown eyes digging into your shoulder blades).

naoya zenin. you don't know how he shares blood with toji. if you squint hard enough you can maybe find some similarities in features. but still, you cannot understand how someone so outwardly horrible can be related to someone like toji. toji is not warm, not inherently sweet. but he is good, and that much is obvious to you. the same way you know this naoya is bad, with nothing but negative intentions.

when you finally reach your doorstep, you keep your head down and slip inside. your fingers double check every lock, every window. your mouth feels dry and there's too many weaknesses and he's definitely still out there and—

"hey."

the voice makes you jump, and when you look up, toji is staring at you—confused. his brow quirks as he peers at you through his wet hair. "well that was dramatic."

you sigh, quelling the thundering of your heartbeat. sweat beads on the skin of your palms, and you drag them over the fabric of your pants. "you just scared me."

"oh yeah, i'm so fucking terrifying." he sits on the couch, aggressively drying his wet hair with a towel. you snort, grinning as your eyes trail over the way his pointed ears fold under the weight of the fabric.

"shaking in my boots." toji rolls his eyes at your reply, and you pull off your coat with a quiet chuckle.

(honestly a little jarring how easy it is for you to relax in his presence. how easy it is to start smiling again.)

"i thought you went to get supplies?"

you freeze, glancing over your shoulder. "w-what?"

he motions to your empty hands. "you didn't get anything?"

your stomach drops. "oh um…" you clear your throat. "they were closed. so i came back."

it's almost laughable how quick the lie slips from your mouth; sickening, really, because it shouldn't be quite so easy to lie to someone who obviously trusted you. you've felt guilty before, but not like this. this goes past the dull surface ache and settles as a deep stinging, fraying your nerve endings. maybe it's because you know that you have no right to keep this from him; after all, it's his family. but something about the gleam in naoya's eyes makes your hair stand on end. if it were up to you, you'd stand in front of toji with a smile even with knives raining down your back.

the way toji's brow arches tells you that he's a little confused, maybe a little skeptical, but he shrugs and turns back to the tv, turning it on with a flick of his finger. "well okay then. i can grab some tomorrow on my way back home."

you inhale through your nose, forcing a smile. there's really no point stressing. naoya can't do much to you to begin with, not without starting something potentially dangerous with toji. so you just push it to the back of your mind and take a seat next to the grumpy wolf you realize you would do anything for.

(even lie.)

"thank you, toji," you say earnestly. the wolf gives you a sidelong glance, ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and he scoffs.

"whatever. it's not like i haven't done it before. quit bein' dramatic."

you grin, watching him cross his arms and sulk like an overgrown puppy. for some reason, his expression settles the chaos in your chest and you decide that whatever problem it is, you'll do anything it takes to keep it from him.

(perhaps it's silly, thinking that you could easily stand in front of a hybrid capable of tearing you to pieces and expect to be able to protect him. but you know he would do the same for you, and that's why it feels all too natural. easy.)

you think you will always be willing to offer him whatever space you have left. comfort, chaos, and everything in between.

****

toji doesn't consider himself a very intelligent person. not to say that he's dumb. no, he thinks he excels at street smarts. after all, no one survives a life like his without a brain.

but in terms of emotional intelligence.. well he doesn't feel all that confident. yet another area where he feels like you're a lot better than he is.

it scares him a little, how fast you can read him. how you can pick apart his every expression and behavior like it comes naturally to you. and then how you're able to to adapt and give him exactly the response he needs. whether it's sweet comfort or rational courses of action—it's perfect.

(you're perfect.)

but he's not like you. he cannot pick people apart, can't look at them and figure out what they're thinking. cannot read them like an open book the way you can.

but right now, he feels like something is wrong.

it's been almost a week since he's noticed this change in behavior. you've been looking over your shoulder like you're in some kind of horror movie. eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, fingers fiddling with the window locks. even peering outside through the gaps in your curtains.

you're nervous, he realizes. paranoid, like something's chasing you. whatever it is, toji understands that he doesn't like the way worry looks on you. in fact, he hates it. hates the way his ears can pick up your increased heartrate. hates the way he can smell the spikes of anxiousness in your scent.

he's trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. trying not to be nosy and let you deal with your own issues like an adult. but then his mind wonders if there's something really wrong, if someone's giving you a hard time or stressing you out, and then he just gets angry.

(don't you know that he adores you? don't you know that you need only say the word and he'd kill a man for you? don't you know the amount of power you have over him?)

regardless, he's still trying to be a good housemate and respect your boundaries. but it's becoming increasingly more difficult to watch you come home everyday like there's someone chasing after you. even now, he watches you double check the door locks before you hurry over to your windows. double check the locks, tug the curtains shut, peer outside through the gaps.

only when you're done do your shoulders relax, and when you turn around, you jump when you notice him standing there staring at you. the surprise bleeds into a quick, barely there smile. "oh hey! how was your day?"

you don't even wait for his answer before you're turning around to hang your coat up, and that's enough to make him crack.

"alright what the fuck is wrong with you?" toji's voice cuts through the silence like ice, and you internally wince. defensive walls rise quickly, and then you're turning on him with fire in your eyes.

"excuse me?"

toji's bulky arms flex as he crosses them, staring down his nose at you completely unfazed. "you've been hiding something."

"i—"

"—and don't even bother tryin' to deny it. it's written all over your face."

the wolf watches you inhale heavily, and the crease in between your brows makes his fingers twitch (eager to reach out and smooth them down carefully).

you sigh, defeated. "remember last week when i went to the store that one night?"

toji nods.

"i, um, bumped into someone there." your fingers rub over your arms in an attempt to be soothing, and toji's frown deepens in tandem.

"who?"

you glance at him. guilt gnaws its way up your esophagus. "um, naoya zenin."

toji's reaction almost makes you vomit. his ears stand up straight, tail going rigid, and the anger that contorts his expression makes you shiver. "what?!"

his voice has taken on a timbre you haven't heard before, an inherently primal growl ripping through his vocal cords in a way that sounds almost painful. you wince, trying to placate by backtracking.

"i was gonna tell you—"

"what the fuck did he say to you?!—"

"he just—"

"that fucking creep i swear to god—"

"toji." your palms find his forearms in this strangely natural way that makes his stomach churn. steadying, stable, everything that he lacks. "please. can we just relax and sit down?"

his ears droop slightly, but he still maintains his heated glare. not that he's necessarily angry at you. but his palms feel too sweaty and his heartbeat feels too fast and his stomach feels too heavy. still, he forces himself to breathe deep through his nose, quelling the instinctual rise of feral panic that seems to want to burst from his veins. he lets your hands, barely able to fit around the width of his arms, maneuver him to the couch.

when you take a seat next to him, he can smell the nerves.

(spiked; hints of bitterness hiding between layers of sugary sweet.)

more so, you look guilty. it briefly strikes him that perhaps you feel bad about keeping this from him. he's then struck with a similar feeling when he realizes he's kept something from you too. this is all followed by a searing streak of anger when he remembers the reason why you both have been hiding things from one another.

(maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live up to their expectations of him. be the real curse of the zenin bloodline. they always said he was an uncontrollable animal. maybe it would be okay to finally prove them right. have his family's life force dripping red rivulets through his pointed claws. taste its metallic tinge between his sharpened teeth.)

"he came up to me at the store," you start, wiping down your palms on your thighs. "he already knew that i knew you. said he saw us walking around that night shopping."

toji's claws dig into the flesh of his palm painfully. the memory is now tinged with something poisonous. always breathing down his neck.

"he was talking about how his father was surprised that you were even interacting with another human. and then he said it was a shame he lost us in the crowd because otherwise he'd come to our house for a visit."

you watch the wolf next to you clench his fists, and your lips slant.

"what else did he say?" toji tries to keep his voice even, but it comes out strange. your teeth dig into the flesh of your bottom lip painfully.

"he… he said that since i was clearly c-close to you, i should convince you to do something."

"and what's that?"

you pause, before letting the bitter words spill. "convince you that's it's time to go back where they want you to be."

"that fucking asshole!" toji's voice is akin to a roar, and you wince as you watch him stand and snarl like he's been beaten. he pushes his claws into his hair and grits his teeth. "how fucking dare they even—"

another pained growl rips from his throat. the sound makes your stomach coil, and before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to grab his arm. his head whips around at the contact, baring his teeth with a snarl as he ears point upright. but then he sees your expression, sad and tired, and his shoulders drop immediately.

"you know that i don't want you to go, right?" you ask him quietly. toji stares at you, long and hard. his jade eyes are bright with anger, but there's a hint of fear in there that makes you want to cry.

"… you sure?" his voice is so quiet you almost have to strain to hear it. your fingers tighten around his forearm. even with the way he is standing over you, you think he looks smaller. like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"i'm sure." your voice is resolute, like it's always been when it comes to him. his exhales slowly, and you smile at him in this tragic way that makes him want to rip his eyes out.

(you're too good. too trusting. too confident in the fact that he won't lead to your downfall.)

"kid," he calls out, voice strained.

"hm?"

"i gotta tell you somethin' too."

you frown, but then you're pulling him back to the couch (right next to you; close enough that your scent wraps around him once more—warm, blanket-like), and then you're looking at him earnestly. "what is it?"

he tells you all about his run in with naobito zenin. details the angry confrontation in which his stupid uncle had warned him to go back to where he belonged, tired of the wolf's running game. how the old man had been close to calling his men to come get him before toji had resorted to nearly crushing his windpipe in retaliation. how naobito had warned toji that hurting him was a punishable offense that would lead to him being locked up again. and how, at the end of it all, toji had told him that it would be worth it if it meant being rid of the stupid zenins once and for all.

and then he finishes by telling you that his uncle was so convinced toji would end up back there on his own anyway, because he was nothing more than a mindless animal.

(he carefully leaves out the threat naobito made about putting him down. and he also leaves out how none of that scared him more than the idea of his family's clutches ultimately reaching you.)

you sit there and listen with an expression that bleeds horror. the divot in your brow is so deep toji worries it may become permanent, and your eyes shine with a sadness he's never seen before. when he's done speaking, you exhale shakily.

"kid, i'm never gonna be rid of them," he says quietly. "they're always gonna be breathing down my neck. which means they're always gonna be breathing down yours too."

you nod slowly, eyes distant as you stare at the edge of the coffee table like it's got all the answers in the world.

"there's nothing i can really do." he finishes with that final statement.

you chew on your bottom lip quietly. something is working behind your eyes, calculating, evaluating. "you threatened him?"

toji scoffs. "of course i fucking did. threatened to kill him and his brat son."

you turn to him, eyes alight. "would you?"

toji's heart leaps into his throat. he will never deny the amount of times he's thought about it. since the day he was old enough to realize his own brute strength. every day he was thrown into that damn cell. every fight where he would scratch and claw just to live another day. and every day since the old man stopped him in the streets.

the thought has lingered in the back of his mind, poisonous. rotting. because he knows that it is the only way. he knows that they deserve it. he knows that it is the one path that could lead him to peace.

(that could lead to him wiping the worry from your eyes.)

it's always been there. and now you…

"you can't be serious?"

"toji, answer the question. would you do it or not?"

"of course i would!" he fires back quickly, before taking a steadying breath. "you don't get it, kid. i got no love for them. been dreaming about ripping those bastards apart since the day i was smart enough to realize they only saw me as an animal."

you nod slowly, still chewing on your lip. something settles behind your eyes, and the thrill it sends up toji's spine is almost sadistic. your voice is flat when you speak, but it does not waver. "toji… if there was something that came into my life that was threatening me and my loved ones. our livelihood, our safety, our security… i wouldn't really be thinking about morals anymore."

toji stares at you mutely, and you continue. "so… if there's an unwelcome guest showing up at the door, and we've asked them—no, begged them—to leave us alone and they haven't listened… then maybe the only thing left to do is force them to leave."

his mouth runs dry, and simultaneously, his ribcage jumps. you're looking at him with all the conviction in the world, and something in his deep complicated web of feelings for you shifts on its axis.

(you are sweet. you are peace and comfort and good. you are innocent and untouched by the horrors of the world in the best way. you are completely humane and understanding and you give nothing but kindness. you've offered him the world and he's gratefully cradled it in his palms. which is why this deeply root loyalty, this protectiveness, this affection—it has all come so naturally to him.

he would show mercy if you wanted him to. he would rip apart limbs if you wanted him to. he would dig a knife into his own intestines if you wanted him to.

but this. this is something he's wanted; dreamed about for as long as he can remember. cursed himself for thinking about because it makes him evil and wrong and horrible. but here you are—giving him support. telling him that you want it too.

this utterly wrong and animalistic thing that makes him the monster.

maybe you aren't all that pure. maybe he's the one who corrupted you. but then he thinks back to the fire in your eyes, that same resolute determination in your tone. and then he thinks that it couldn't have been him. it had to have come from within you, this desperate and complicated decision.

and then toji realizes that the reason it appeared is because you value him so highly. because on your moral scale, it is worth it to sin if it means keeping him safe. it is worth it to be animalistic if it means having him by your side.

he wants to envelop you in his arms. find your lips and breathe his own soul into you because he knows you'd keep it safe. knows you're willing to do whatever it takes for him.

the same way he is for you.

he loves you, he thinks. it's just that simple.)

and that's all the confirmation he needs.

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[em1i2a3]

If you take requests or suggestions, i believe that you would execute a bob reynolds fic with this plot ✨perfectly✨

I literally LOVE all of your bob fics. They’re my comfort reads before i go to bed at night!

Body Paint

Pairing: Bob.Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: You are trying to find the best smudge proof lipstick for the upcoming gala that the team needs to attend tomorrow, and you have found the perfect test subject for the swatches.

Warnings: Pure and utter fluff, and there’s quite a bit of sexual tension. The reader and Bob both have feelings for each other and they’re both well aware of the mutual interest (secretly of course), she takes this as an opportunity to tease.

Author’s Note: I loved this request so much and I immediately started writing it because I was so excited to give it a go! So So Fun! Thank you for the submission! :) (also credit to the artist who made the drawing too because it’s fantastic)

Word Count: 3,362

You gave every drug store lipstick display a run for its money with the collection you had laid out across the bathroom sink. An entire rainbow of tubes was scattered in a controlled type of chaos–organized first by shade, then grouped meticulously by brand. Reds on the left, mauves and berries in the middle, and neutrals off to the right like a little modest army. You had even gone so far as to lay a folded white towel beneath the lineup like a staging mat, saving yourself from scrubbing stains off the marble countertop. The air smelled faintly of your makeup remover wipes–sweet and sterile–and your forearm was streaked with half-dried swatches, but it just wasn’t good enough.

This was all in the name of finding the lipstick. The one that not only matched the dress you were wearing to the PR gala tomorrow, but one that was also smudge-proof. You didn’t want feathering, or fading, and you certainly didn’t want it transferring onto napkins, glasses or people.

You wanted security.

You knew you should’ve started this task earlier in the week, but between back-to-back recon debriefs, endless intel meetings, and mediating three separate team arguments that nearly ended in Walker and Yelena actually strangling each other, the lipstick trials had fallen to the bottom of your to-do list.

Now there was less than twenty-four hours to go, and you were elbows-deep in swatches and stress.

You capped one more tube with a dissatisfied sigh and reached for the next–

Only to pause at the sound of a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Y-Y/N?” Came Bob’s voice–muffled, hesitant and laced with that familiar nervous warmth. “I-I need to come in and get my brush. I forgot it after my s-shower…” You froze, mid-reach, one hand hovering over a berry toned satin finish tube. Your lips curled into a slow smile.

Perfect timing. For you, anyway. For Bob? That remained to be seen. You crossed the small tiled room in a few barefoot steps and swung the door open with a grin.

“Excellent! You’re just who I need.” Bob blinked at you like a deer caught in LED headlights. His shirt–black, baggy, and soft–was damp around the collar, clinging to his skin and chest in a way that made it impossible not to look. His light brown hair curled at in little waves at the ends, still damp from his shower that was still kissing the walls, and the navy sweatpants sitting low on his hips were hugging him far too well for a man who clearly didn’t see himself in the way you were seeing him in.

”…Wh-What?” He asked, brows furrowed, gaze daring from your eyes to the mess of tubes on the counter.

“Come in,” You said smoothly, reaching out and tugging him gently by the wrist, guiding him over the threshold with ease, “Sit on the toilet lid, and hurry up with the hair brushing…I need a test subject.” He obeyed-but only in the way someone might follow a siren calling them to certain doom. He moved like he wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into a trap or a daydream.

”L-Last time I heard the words ‘test s-subject’ I ended up getting injected with a sun god…” He mumbled, grabbing the brush from the hanging organizer on the shower door. You laughed, warm and low at the comment.

“Relax. I’m not injecting you with anything. You’re perfectly safe with me.” Bob sat down slowly, brush limp in his hand as his gaze swept across the counter again, scanning over the contents that you had lined up with such care.

”S-So what is all of t-this?” You turned slightly towards him, unscrewing a velvet-matte red as you spoke.

“I’m trying to find the perfect lipstick for the gala tomorrow,” You said matter-of-factly, swiping the colour gently across your bottom lip, “It has to match my dress and it has to be smudge-proof.”

Bob tilted his head, watching your quick movements intently, “Smudge-proof?”

“Yes. I don’t want to be constantly running to the bathroom to check for fading or fix transfer stains. I want to actually enjoy the night. Have a drink. Maybe dance. You know…Breathe.” He gave a thoughtful little nod, bringing the brush through his damp hair.

”D-Didn’t really think about that, a-actually…” You turned away from your reflection to look at him, a coy smile peeling onto your lips.

“Most guys don’t.” But Bob wasn’t most guys of course, and as expected, a beat later he added to the conversation again…

”…W-Wait…Why does it have to be completely smudge-proof though? I mean if you’re just–“ You shrugged, letting your gaze flick toward the mirror, while your lips pressed together, transferring the color over to the bare one above.

”You never know,” You said casually, “I might be planning on kissing someone.” Bob froze like someone had yanked all the oxygen out of the room. His cheeks–already pink from the post-shower warmth–turned a deeper, rosier red in seconds. It bloomed across his cheekbones, dusting the tips of his ears, and spread like a sunburn. His mouth opened slightly like he meant to say something, but all he managed to get out was:

”O-Oh…” He choked, swallowing the lump of nerves in his throat. The brush in his hand was still mid-motion through his damp locks, but it had stopped moving entirely. You smiled at him.

”Alright,” You started, twisting the lipstick down and putting the cap back on with a soft click, “First one. You ready?” He nodded slowly, like he couldn’t trust his voice. His eyes tracked you as you stepped forward–deliberate and unhurried–until you were standing directly between his legs.

His brush lowered slightly, and then the wave of your scent hit his nose.

Your perfume was warm, and sweet, with a hint of plum riding off of the tail end of each inhale he took. Beneath the main notes there was something tropical–maybe coconut from your makeup remover, or the vanilla-tinged balms you always wore when your lips were bare.

But now your lips weren’t bare at all. They were red, and bold, and smooth, just like fresh velvet. He looked up slowly, through his lashes, and found you were already staring down at him. You tilted your head, smiling, the curve of your mouth smug in a way that made something tighten in his chest.

You didn’t say anything as you reached forward–fingers brushing gently along the side of his jaw, your thumb just beneath the hinge of it. He let you tilt his head more toward you like he was made of clay and you were the ceramicist.

He dropped the brush into his lap, forgetting about it completely.

Your face hovered near his and he could feel his breath hitch audibly. You leaned in slow enough that he swore he could hear his own heartbeat ringing through the room.

Then your lips pressed to his cheek.

Warm, firm and lingering. It wasn’t a quick peck either. Not an innocent brush. It was a kiss.

You lingered just long enough for him to feel the curve of your mouth, and the faint stick of product with the pressure of intention behind it. He could smell the stain now–berries and heat, sharp pigment and your sweet breath that had a faint scent of strawberries from the gum you chewed on. If he was a sailor and you were the siren…He would be dead at sea.

When you pulled away, he swore the room was spinning a little. You cocked your head to the side and looked at the mark you had left just above the apple of his cheek. A bright, undeniable red, plastered on his pale tone.

“Hmm,” You said thoughtfully, “Definitely transferred.” Bob sat in stunned silence, skin still tingling from where your mouth had been–he didn’t know whether it was because he was allergic to the ingredients or because it was just him buzzing from all the adrenaline, though he would find out in due time. You dabbed at your own lips with a tissue saturated in make-up remover, wiping the colour clean.

“Not a keeper,” You mumbled, “It’s a shame–it was a really good match.” He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find words, nor could he find a way to breathe. He didn’t even know how he was still alive at this point, all he knew was he saw you reach out again.

You selected the next shade carefully.

A sultry plum–deep, and elegant, with just enough bite to stand out. You rolled the colour across your lips in smooth, practiced strokes, then blotted once on a folded tissue before turning back to him.

Bob still hadn’t moved an inch. He was still sitting frozen on the seat, brush limp in his lap, his shimmering blue eyes flickering between your mouth and the floor. The cheek you had kissed was flushed a bit deeper now.

“Test two,” You announced gently, stepping into his space again, until the hem of your t-shirt brushed against his thigh and he had nowhere left to look that wouldn’t betray him in some way. Your hand came up to his jaw again–just two fingers this time, soft and easy, tilting his face the opposite way.

His lashes fluttered under the feeling of your breath brushing over them as you kissed him again. This time it was just below his temple, closer to the hinge of his jaw–closer to where his pulse was throbbing faintly beneath his skin. You pressed a little firmer this time, letting your breath fan against his ear.

Bob inhaled a quiet breath through his nose, attempting to keep himself calm, but in reality he was gripping the fabric of his sweatpants between his fingers like it was the only thing holding him back from collapsing. When you pulled away, you didn’t look at him, you just kept your focus on the mark.

”…Transferred,” You murmured, brushing your thumb lightly over the stain–making sure it was more of a caress than a swipe. You didn’t move back this time, you just grabbed another makeup wipe and removed the color before reaching for another.

It was a dusty rose this time, it was softer, and much more muted than any of the other colors he had seen you in.

Once you had applied it, you leaned in–closer now–and kissed the slope of his cheekbone, just beneath the curve of his eye. Your lips barely grazed the skin there–it was as if you did it to see if he would flinch or move.

Bob’s jaw tensed under your touch, and you were hyper aware of his breath hitting your skin in short, warm bursts, his chest lifting against you. He hadn’t said a word–but his hands had now left his lap and were gripping the edge of the counter, white-knuckled in anticipation.

You reached for the next tube–something far more delicate than the dusty rose before it. A pink so faint it was almost nothing at all. A whisper of colour. You applied it, blotted it, then turned again. Bob had somehow managed to get a handle on his breathing in the moments you were applying the next colour, but it was too controlled. You could practically feel the storm building beneath his skin, golden and humming, and desperate to stay still.

Your thighs brushed the inside of his knees as you tilted his head up to yours again, looking at the way his skin was flushed and warm, beneath the shades of pinks and reds…A gradient of restraint. You leaned in, and this time your kiss landed just beside the corner of his mouth, not touching it, but close enough to tease.

Bob made a sound. It was barely audible. A sof, helpless little nnnnh in the back of his throat–like a gasp that had gotten stuck on the way out. You didn’t say anything. You only bit back a knowing smile, and pretended not to hear it. You just wiped your lips again and moved on to the next shade–a creamy nude gloss, with just a hint of peach.

You came back in and kissed beneath his jaw, where the stubble was soft and patchy and tender. The spot made him twitch, his throat working under the weight of the kiss, like he was trying to swallow air.

His breathing changed then and became heavier and shallower.

And when you came close to him again, in a different shade–this time pressing your lips right onto his Adam’s apple–Bob’s head tipped back instinctively.

Like he was offering himself up to you–surrendering himself completely.

You continued to kiss him, moving progressively lower, marking him up with various shades. Then suddenly you found yourself at the hollow of his throat, just between the lines of his collarbones. His chest was rising faster now, with flush traveling beneath his shirt, like it was echoing the trail your mouth had carved against his skin.

You pulled back slowly, lips hovering about the damp collar of his shirt, bringing your hand up to brush over the fabric.

”Oops…” You murmured softly, putting on a teasing tone beneath your words, “I think I’m running out of room.” Bob looked down at you with eyes that were no longer blue. You hadn’t even noticed he had his eyes closed tightly for the majority of this until now.

There was gold flickering at the edges. Sentry was just barely cresting the surface–quiet, curious, and turned-on by the proximity. He was enamoured by what was happening, and Bob was allowing him to watch through his eyes because he was too focused on trying to keep himself together. The air around Bob was shimmering faintly, vibrating with tension like he was lighting up the room.

The sensation of your lips had done this…You had done this, and you were proud of it.

Your nails dragged gently down the front of his shirt, tracing a circle around the fabric.

”I think you may need to take this off…To give me more space of course.” You whispered, watching as his brain seemed to short-circuit. His eyes were still half-lidded, heavy with heat and something distant and flickering gold. But when they opened fully they met yours with the softest, most terrified kind of care, glancing down at your mouth just as your bottom lip slipped between your teeth…And that’s what did it for him. That was the punch of encouragement to the gut.

He gave you a small nod, then reached for the hem of his shirt. His hands trembled slightly from the kind of overstimulated shyness that lived just under the surface of his flesh, in the space between ‘I want this’ and ‘I don’t know what to do with all of it.’ He peeled the black shirt up slowly, exposing inch after inch of pale skin, dusted with freckles and pure heat. There were a few scars here and there. A mole right near the dip of his sternum. A faint sheen of sweat that bloomed across his chest and shoulders from the heat in the room–or from the heat of your lips…Possibly both.

The fabric came over his head, messing up his semi-brushed hair in the process, and he folded it carefully in his lap like he was going to get up to put it on display or something. You let yourself stare.

At the freckles on his collarbones, the ones on his biceps. The soft stretch marks that feathered under his arms and the little curve of his ribs as they flared gently with each nervous breath he took. You wanted to map everything with your mouth.

So you did.

You leaned in again, with a fresh colour on your lips–deep pink this time, and kissed just beneath his collarbone, then a little to the right, then down the slope of his chest–right over where his heart was pulsating beneath its shield of flesh.

Bob made a quiet sound, something soft and strangled that never made it fully out of his throat. His hands were still in his lap, his thumbs gripping the hem of the shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from grabbing yours. Every part of him was vibrating–his jaw clenched, chest rising, shoulders tense–and still he let you do it, staying perfectly still.

You changed shades, kissing higher, then lower.

A sheer gloss that glimmered under the light as you kissed just below the curve of his pec. A matte brick red as you moved toward the center of his chest. Then you put on something soft again, something nude and barely there, as you pressed your hands against his thighs for a bit of leverage while your lips found the inside slope of his ribcage. You could’ve sworn you felt his knees buckle under your hands.

By the time you reached the underside of his pectoral muscle, you heard the faintest breath catch in his lungs, like he couldn’t even take full breaths anymore. And then you kissed just above it.

One final, perfect kiss.

You pressed your lips down and held them there–longer, slower, firmer–fighting back the urge to mark the skin with something that wasn’t lipstick. You felt the flutter of his pulse beneath it. And when you finally pulled away, you let your lips ghost against him, your eyes trailing down to where you had kissed.

“Ooooh. This one’s good…I think we found it. No transfer!” You announced, looking up at Bob, seeing the ruined look plastered on his face.

His eyes were heavy, shot through with blue and gold. His mouth parted. His skin was flushed a deep red and marked in soft lip stains, all across his chest, neck, jaw, and face. The air shimmered around him like static clinging to the atmosphere, and he was breathless. He let out a sigh.

”P-Perfect,” He whimpered, so dazed his words barely had shape to them. His body shifted, like he was meaning to stand–maybe to retreat, maybe to run cold water over his steaming body, maybe just to breathe–

But you didn’t let him.

Before he could even try to get up, you surged forward and kissed him on the lips. Hungry, wet, and deep. You kissed him like it was the conclusion to a story you had been telling in colour across his skin. Bob let out a muffled, desperate little moan into your mouth, as his hands found your waist, then your back, then your hips–grabbing, pulling, and holding. He crushed you to him, allowing all his restraint to unravel all at once, letting what little control he had slip through his fingers.

You kissed him like you had wanted to from the very start. Like all the kisses around his whole body led to this one final one–this overwhelming, messy, and utterly perfect one.

He kissed you back with awe. With the kind of pressure that said ‘thank you, please don’t stop, I’ve been waiting.’

You pulled back just enough to breathe–barely. Your foreheads bumped, and the air between you was heat, electricity, and trembling silence.

Bob’s lips were swollen now. Kiss-bitten, and wet. But when you looked…

The colour on your lips hadn’t transferred onto his. You smirked, and reached up, gently swiping the faintest trail of spit off his swollen bottom lip with your thumb, tilting your head to the side.

”Fantastic,” You whispered, leaning forward just a bit, “It’s definitely kiss-proof.”

[orimuraa]

• So I’m yours right now - 양정원 ↳ ┊: orange flower (you complete me) - enhypen

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆falling for jungwon, but he falls harder ⨾

۶ৎ idol!jungwon x fem barista!reader┆fluff┆wonnie is downbad, so is reader┆wc 506

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe thank you to the anon who requested this!!! wonnie would totally be the one falling so hard when he’s in love 🤭

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

who wouldn’t fall for yang jungwon’s charm? he was so kind and respectful to each and every one of his staff, it was so hard not to fall for him.

you were just a barista at the coffee shop in hybe, meaning you were basically a nobody. you weren’t the makeup artists that interacted with idols everyday, or the choreographer that worked with them everyday, you weren’t the coffee girl who served mainly the staff. it was very rare for an idol to come up and get coffee from you.

so when you see yang freaking jungwon walking up to the counter, you’re starstruck. you fumble to keep yourself professional and quickly wipe your hands on your apron.

“hi how may i help you?” you say politely, trying to hide your panic.

“oh! hi, what do you recommend?” he asks, his sparkling eyes looking up at you. god damn you were pretty, he thought.

the way your hair was slightly wavy and tied neatly into a ponytail, the green apron matching perfectly with your beige crewneck. god- you were stunning.

meanwhile, you were short-circuiting as you tried to recommend some of your favorite things on the menu. how could you be normal when the guy you collect photocards of is right in front of you!?

“uh- i recommend maybe the strawberry latte? i think it’s also one of the popular items. but you could never go wrong with an iced americano if that’s what you like,” you smile, feelings your knees tremble at the eye contact you were holding with jungwon.

“hmmm…i’ll go with the strawberry latte then! thank you!” jungwon decides, smiling brightly back at you, trying to ignore the butterflies he felt.

“of course! i’ll go prepare that for you,” you say, turning to go make his drink. this had to be your best strawberry latte yet, or else you might cry.

“jungwon?” you call out, setting the drink on the counter. the blonde pops out of nowhere and flashes you the prettiest smile ever.

“you know my name?” he asks, tilting his head. you flush, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“oh- well- yeah…i’m actually an engene, and your my bias,” you mumble, hiding behind your hands. he lets out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling into crescents.

“oh! engene!! i’m very lucky to have such a pretty fan,” he says. oh, your heart just stopped. “anyway, i have to go to practice now. but i will be back! text me~” he slides you a piece of paper before running off the practice.

oh my god you just got yang jungwon’s number, you thought to yourself, letting the moment sink in. and damn he was so gorgeous in person.

as jungwon stepped into the practice room, latte in hand, he felt his heart beat for the first time. it was rapid and intense. why were you so pretty? why is he acting like he has a middle school crush? he had to go back. he had to be yours.

god, he was down bad.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢��𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

[criminalyapping]

due for trouble | the world turned upside down

the pitt masterlist main masterlist

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

a/n: hamilton reference? in my fanfiction? more likely than u think... thank u for reading!!

warnings: age gap (reader is implied mid-20's, jack late 40's early 50's), language, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (not explicit)

<< part 1 < part 2

Jack Abbot is going to be the death of you.

You've been trying, deperately trying, to initiate a very intimidating conversation with him about how you're pregnant with his child, but you haven't been able to. Not the last three times you saw him.

You were, to put it lightly, fucking like rabbits. Between your normal work schedule and his night shifts, there is about an hour that you're both free on a typical day. Now, Jack never makes it feel like he's only interested in you for sex, but just by necessity, it's kind of bing-bang-boom, thank you, I have to go to work when you see him. The night you met him and began your rendezvouz was a fluke, you have found out. A night off for him and a weekend for you.

Luckily (or maybe unluckily) there is another one of these special nights coming up. Jack has been waxing poetic about being able to take his time with you, have you spend the night, make breakfast, all of those things. All while you grin with the knowledge that that night will not go at all like he's expecting before you're gently ushered out the door so he can leave for work.

This lovely Friday night comes a lot faster than you've wanted, and you're in front of his door realizing that maybe you should have come up with a game plan for this conversation, but didn't. You knock on his door anyway.

You can hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to the door, the lock turning and about to open. You get closer and closer to turning around and running down the street.

Jack opens the door with a smile.

"Hey, kid," he greets, opening the door wide enough for you to step in.

"Oh my god, I'm pregnant," you blurt, the words falling out of your mouth before your brain has even realized you've said them.

"Jesus fucking christ," Jack grits out, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into his entry.

He shuts the door loudly behind you.

"What?" he asks, looking stupefied.

You wave your arms around, letting your eyes flicker around the room.

"I don't know another explaination to give you!" you yell.

"Okay." Jack says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, okay, okay okayokay," he mumbles to himself. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his living room, urging you to sit down on the couch. Jack is standing in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"Okay, you're pregnant." he says.

"Yup." you agree. "Also, sit the fuck down. You're not scolding me."

"Yes ma'am." he agrees sarcastically, but still moves to sit next to you on the couch.

"So," he starts, letting out a long, deep breath, "what makes you say that?" he asks.

"Well, I took a pregnancy test, a-" you get cut off.

"How many?" he asks.

"One." you tell him.

"There can be false positives, let's do another." he quickly says, immediately standing up.

"Not to mention," you gripe, pulling him back down to the couch, "that my period is about 3 weeks late, my tits have grown a full cup size and hurt so bad, and my skin is the worst its been since I was 14."

"Other stuff can do that, come on, up, let's go." Jack orders, now pulling you up from the couch.

"Got it, got it," you acquiesce, standing up and returning to the front door.

"When was the positive test?" he asks while pulling on his shoes.

"Hey, can you stop talking like a doctor to me and talk to me like Jack?" you say, raising your voice out of frustration.

Jack takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. His hands find your shoulders, and he slowly leans forward to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Let's go do another one, I'm serious about false positives, and then we can go from there. Okay?" he proposes.

"Fine," you agree.

An hour later, Jack is staring at another positve pregnancy test on his bathroom counter while taking a long sip from his beer. You've been staring at it in silence for 30 whole seconds. Time to diffuse the situation with humor, your favorite passtime.

"Hold on," you mumble opening your phone, "I need to sing Hamilton about this really quick,"

Jack laughs, grabbing your phone away from you and pulling you into a hug.

"No you don't, please," he says through his chuckle.

You giggle against his shoulder and let him rock you back and forth softly.

"The world turned upside down..." you sing softly, pulling another laugh from him.

"Alright, that's enough outta you," Jack says, picking you up and walking back towards his living room, accompanied by the loud, boisterous laughs you're shaking with. Mission accomplished.

"Soooooooooo," you start, looking at Jack. He just raises his eyebrows at you. "What now?" you ask.

He gives you an incredulous look, "I don't know?" he says.

"You're the doctor!" you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk like a doctor?" he asks sarcasically. "Lay down," he orders. You humor him and lay long ways on his couch as he stands up.

"Okay, miss, so you're presenting with a positive pregnancy test, correct?" he asks with faux seriousness.

"Yes," you agree.

"What is the last day of your last period?" he asks.

"Let me check," you murmur, pulling out your phone, "Uh, April 17th," you tell him.

Jack lets out a whistle.

"Okay, that puts you at," he starts, opening the calendar on his phone, "about 8 weeks, then." he says.

"Seeing as I've just opened this in-home clinic," he jokes, "I don't have an ultrasound machine at the ready, nor can I do a blood test. Why don't you tell me about your symptoms?" he prompts.

"Well, I feel about halfway to throwing up all the time," you start, "my boobs hurt, I get really light-headed sometimes, my skin is really bad, and I absolutely cannot stand the smell of a sink or towels anymore."

"Interesting, I haven't heard that last one before," he comments, "what does a sink smell like?" he asks.

"I'm gonna barf thinking about it, move on please," you request.

"Moving on," he agrees, "Now, ma'am, what birth control methods have you been using?" he asks.

"Jack, you know this," you sigh.

"Ma'am I have no idea about your proclivities in the bedroom, I am just a doctor," he retorts.

"Fine," you gripe, "I've been using condoms," you tell him even though he already knows.

"With all of your sexual partners?" he asks. You quiet for a moment, before taking a deep breath. You realize that while this doctor moment may have started silly, perhaps the clinical disconnection is allowing him to ask the questions he needs answered. You would be lying if you said that you weren't expecting a question like this, but it doesn't make it hurt you any less.

"Yes; there's only one." you tell him.

"Only one?" he clarifies.

"Yep." you repeat.

Jack clears his throat. "Okay, well then one of them must have failed. About 8 weeks ago." he says.

"Um," you start, "how does that happen, exactly?" you ask.

"Well, if they're very old, and maybe found at the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink and was used without checking the expiration date, that could have caused it," he reveals with a guilty look.

You chuckle, "I knew it was your fault," you say gently, looking up at him.

He clears his throat again.

"Now, ma'am, would you like to discuss your options for moving forward?" he asks.

"Yes, but I'd like to talk to you about them, Jack, not doctor Jack," you request, tugging lightly at his pants to get his attention."

"Okay," Jack agrees, pulling your head up and sitting down on the couch, your head now in his lap as he looks down at you.

"Sorry, honey," he apologizes, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours, "I should have checked."

"It's okay," you accept, "hindsight is 20/20," you whisper.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so bad," he says genuinely.

"I'll survive," you joke. "What do you want to do, Jack?" you ask him.

"I think it's more about what you want to do," he replies.

"Ooo, that's where you're wrong," you tell him, "I think this has a lot to do with you. I don't want to be a single mom," you express, "but if I had a supportive and present baby daddy, then I think this might be fun." you reveal.

"Fun?" he clarifies, "we're talking about a baby here, not a game of checkers,"

"Old man," you laugh, "okay, maybe fun was the wrong word. But, I think it could be exciting, and wonderful, and maybe exactly what I want, could be." you emphasize. "But I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to." you tell him.

Jack is silent, staring down at you in his lap.

"Okay," you say after a few moments, "how about you think about it? I don't want you to say anything you don't mean and end up regretting your choice." you tell him.

"I'm more worried about you regretting your choice." he argues.

"Well, the only way that would happen is if you say you'll do something and then don't, but I don't think that's the kind of guy you are." you smile.

"You haven't known me that long," he argues.

"Are you priming me so that I'll have your baby and then you'll fuck off and say that I should've known?" you ask him.

"No! Absolutely not!" he says, affronted.

"Then we're fine, Jack." you say, frustrated. "What are you thinking?" you ask him again.

"I'm thinking," he starts, slowly, "that I'll tell you that of course I'll be there, and I will, and then you'll end up regretting tying yourself to me like this." he reveals.

"Not gonna happen," you say, staring up at him earnestly.

"Okay, then." Jack says with a smile.

"Okay," you grin up at him.

[moon-ttokki-x]

Hii!! I absolutely adore your work, especially your 9th member stuff!

I was wondering if there was anyway to write an imagine where the reader is the second oldest hyung (younger than Chan but older than Minho) and acts like a mother figure occasionally. And her and Chan are super close (possibly secretly dating?) and the other members start to catch on during little moments during interviews and stuff like that.

Or even just short blurts/headcannons of something like “Chan and y/n being in love for 5 minutes straight.”

I totally get that this is a lot to ask, so if you want to tweak it that is completely up to you! You don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to. xx 🩵

hi thank you sm <3 this is cute. i liked the idea of doing a short headcanon sort of thing, so here . . .

"hyung, are you in love with y/n?"

pairing: bang chan x fem 9th member!reader

summary: chan can't hide how smitten he is, and skz begins to catch on . . .

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, fem!reader i think, just pure fluff, maybe a little suggestive idk?? there's literally nothing else to write tbh this is just super short and sweet (like chan) who said that omg it wasn't me . . .

a/n: yep

skz masterlist

Smitten!Chan who can't help but stare at you during interviews; his gaze always drifts to you even when you're not the one talking. He tries so hard to pay attention, he really does, but he just can't help it; you look so pretty, with your makeup done and your hair styled so perfectly.

Smitten!Chan who can't stop a little smile from curling the corners of his mouth when you smile just at him; he covers it up with a hand, seemingly brushing something off his lip, but he knows it won't fool anyone. He's all lingering touches, on your lower back, your cheek, your hair when he pats it, your arms when he adjusts your position in the choreo.

Smitten!Chan whose hand stays just a little too long to be innocent or friendly. Has a little chain bracelet with your initial on it tucked down his forearm, unseen and covered by his long sleeves. Never takes it off, and you wear yours around your ankle, the tiny 'CB' almost invisible. You know, unless someone looks a little too close...

Smitten!Chan who steals kisses in the dressing room, fighting not to kiss you too hard, otherwise he'll ruin your perfect makeup. You have to push him off once you hear the members coming down the hallway, but it's a struggle when he wants to keep you in his arms. His hand brushes yours as you both walk down to the backstage area. He can't help but steal glances at you when he's motivating the members with his usual hype speech.

Smitten!Chan who has to fight the urge to kiss you in front of Stay. He wants the whole world to know so badly; but he knows you wouldn't be comfortable with that right now, so he holds back. Expect to be called to his room for a quick 'discussion'. Long story short, Jeongin walked in at the wrong time and saw you both in each other's arms, faces close to each other. Talk about traumatising.

Smitten!Chan who frantically waves his hands, shushing him, and quickly runs to clamp a hand over his mouth. You can't fight the giggles when Chan sits him down on the bed, trying to get him to keep quiet. Jeongin's accusatory glance is enough to make you let out a giggle, and enough for Chan to exasperatedly glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

Smitten!Chan who gives up and lets Jeongin-whisper rant at both of you, making frantic hand-gestures, trying to madly piece together how you both ended up as a couple. It doesn't take him long, but by then you're on the floor, wheezing. A slight smile escapes Chan's mouth and he raises his hands in defeat. He lifts a pinky to make Jeongin promise not to tell the other members, a stern look on his face, though you can tell part of him has given up on keeping you both secret.

Smitten!Chan who gasps and almost jumps out of his skin when the door flies open, the lock giving way, and the members tumble into the room in a heap. Minho stands behind them all with his phone filming, and there's a smirk on his face that clearly communicates 'this was my idea'. Chan slaps a palm over his forehead before the both of you are tackled to the floor by the maknaes.

Smitten!Chan who watches Minho's video later with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, cheeks tinging pink at the way you look, giggling and flushed and pretty. He has to turn the video off before tangling himself in the sheets, a grin spreading his face, the rustling of the bed and several excited squeaks the only sounds as a result of his cuteness-aggression.

Smitten!Chan who finally falls asleep with the video still playing, drifting off into sleep with the faint knowledge that he'll have to confront his members tomorrow. No doubt they'll be as loud and excitable as they were tonight, but at least it'll be easier with you by his side. The faint volume of the video's audio plays in the background, and Felix's excitable, disbelieving voice plays in a faint, muted loop in the stillness of the night.

"Hyung, are you in love with Y/n?"

a/n: chan and the colour red just go so well together 🔥

ttokki's taglist: @emilyywhyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs @stellasays45 @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @luvvchn

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

[erule]

Teenage dream | b.r.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x reader 

Summary: you’re in love with Bob, but he doesn’t know that and this is tearing you apart. Until one day, he tells you to ask him what you’ve been eager to know.

Warnings: angst, fluff, friends to lovers trope, making out (reader and Bob are both 18+ here), Thunderbolts* spoilers ahead

Word count: 1.7K+

A/N: hi guys! I’m back with a ff with Bob Reynolds, because I just loved his so much in the movie (and Lewis too ofc!!). Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! I hope you enjoy it 🌙

Main Masterlist

MCU Masterlist

Somehow, you’ve always known that. Since the first time he entered in the room, you’ve felt something, a sort of an energy or a vibe. Yelena looked at you, because she got it even before you could even comprehend what was happening inside of you. It was like a teenage dream that would come to reality. Bob said hello to everybody and your eyes lingered on his face more than you would do with a stranger. You knew what he did, but you didn’t really care about it. You weren’t scared. After years of working with the Avengers, you knew the risks. 

It was even funnier, when Bucky asked you, door closed behind you, if you were sneaking out with him. You gulped, embarrassed, but also giggled at the thought. You wished you would, but no, that wasn’t you. He was having some kind of affair with somebody else. You shrugged, then you went away in order to go back to your room, but you found Yelena next to your door. 

“He did it, didn’t he?” She asked and you nodded. Yelena sighed, tired. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I told him you weren’t doing anything with Bob, but he wanted to know it directly from you. Did it hurt you?”

“Not quite as when I saw Bob kissing Sarah,” you answered. Sarah was the classic girl next door: simple, cute and nice. You had nothing against her, really, but you weren’t glad to see her with your beloved Bob. Oh, you sounded so riddiculous!

You sighed, while preparing yourself to get into the shower. Yelena gave you a T-shirt for later. 

“I can only imagine,” Yelena said, while sitting on your bed. “If I could do something about it, like smashing his face into the wall or…”

“Unfortunately, you can’t,” you replied with a smile. “Still, I love you for that”.

“No, I don’t like all of these emotions. I’m gonna get out from here. See you at dinner, babe,” she said and you waved at her.

Sometimes, you thought that she was your only friend beside of Bob. How do you really talk to your friend about you being in love with them? You got into the shower in order to go to dinner very fast. You changed your clothes, then you did your hair. You were wearing your shoes, when somebody knocked at the door. 

“Hey,” a sweet voice said and you recognized it immediately.

“Hi,” you replied and your heart began to race.

“I… uhm… know, from Walker, that Bucky wanted to talk to you about something urgent today. Is everything alright?” He asked and you didn’t really know how to answer. You remained silent for a couple of seconds, so he shaked his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to intrude. I was just worried about you. Bucky can be very unpleasant, sometimes”.

“Sometimes?” You joked and he smiled.

“Multiple times”.

“Anyway, thank you for your concern, but it was nothing serious”.

Then, he gulped, nodding, his shoulder on the door jamb and his fingers intertwined. You looked at him, your lips parted as if you were about to ask him a question, but you didn’t. He seemed to as well, though.

“I’ve missed this,” he said. 

“What?”

“This,” he repeated, pointing at him and you with a finger. “Us. Being friends, making jokes. Whatever we were before”.

“Before what?”

“Before I got with Sarah,” he said and you gulped, trying to hide your sense of guilt. Your feelings.

“We’re still friends,” you stated and it was true.

“I know,” he replied, then he walked towards you and you started to feel uncomfortable. 

“Please, don’t,” you said. You couldn’t handle it anymore. 

He stopped.

“I know that there’s something off here, Y/N. Just tell me,” he said and you felt terrible. He was really trying to have his friend back, but you couldn’t even admit that you were in love with him with yourself, let alone with him! You bit your bottom lip. Who knows what Void would have seen, if only he could. Maybe your secret dreams about him or the lowest point of your life, when you followed him to see why he would always go to the cafè in front of the compound. You were ashamed of yourself. He couldn’t touch you, otherwise he would have found out everything.

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” you found the courage to say, but he sighed.

“Y/N, if I did anything to offend you, I’m sorry,” he said. “You know that I wouldn’t hurt a fly, come on”.

You tried to hold back the tears.

“People can’t know anything”.

“True,” he said, while getting slowly closer to you. Your skin began to get hotter very fast, as if his only presence could make you feel warmer. “But they’re not my friends”.

“I don’t want to know your personal life’s secrets”.

“Something’s telling me you do,” he said with the ghost of a smirk on his pale face. You tilted your head. “You could live with the doubt forever or… you could just ask”. You gulped. “Ask me”.

You released the breath you were apparently holding. When you were just a teenager, you used to fantasize about a lot of fictional and real guys as if it was some kind of game, but now, all of this didn’t seem like a game to you anymore. He was real, in front of you, asking you to make him a question. So you did. 

“Why not me?”

You knew why he chose her, it wasn’t a stupid challenge between two people being in love with the same guy. It was about you and him, this time. It was about being the second chance again.

His eyes flickered. For a moment, he wasn’t Bob anymore. He was Void and Void knew how to break into your heart like nobody else. You wondered if you made the right call.

“Because it was easier,” he answered. You were confused. Easier to be with somebody less demanding than you? Easier than breaking a friendship? “Easier to fake that I didn’t care about you as much as I do,” he said, as if he could read your mind. “Everytime I look at you during a mission, I hope that our enemies don’t get how much I love you. Everytime I see you walking into the compound, I ask myself if Bucky or Yelena or anybody else knows that I’m wrapped around your finger. And every damn time that something bad happens, I fear that it happened to you and that I wasn’t there to protect you”.

The tears were rolling on your cheeks at that point.

“It’s unfair”.

“What? That you didn’t tell me that you were in love with me?” He asked.

“That you’d rather sneak around with anybody but me”.

“You’re being mean,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“And you’re breaking my heart”.

He looked at you as if you just broke the ice into his eyes and now he was bleeding on the outside. His eyes were glossy and circled in red.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that you did the same with mine, I guess”.

That was the moment in which your heart shattered into pieces.

***

Yelena was very focused while listening to your argument with Bob, but once you were finished, she rolled on the bed, exhausted. A corner of your lips turned up in half a smile. 

“You’re unbelievable!” You exclaimed, but she threw a pillow at you.

“Am I? You’re the one who fought with the love of her life over a stupid thing!”

The skin of your face started to burn.

“He’s not… He’s not the love of my life”.

“Babe, come on, he is. And he has been for as long as I can remember. Probably, you were dreaming about him when you were still a teenager”.

You sighed. It was like she could read you. That was probably why you felt something already when he just entered into the room and he light it up like it was the easiest thing to do on the planet. At that point, you couldn’t even lie anymore: you were desperately in love with him.

“You think that he was right all along?”

Yelena got up from the bed and shaked your hand.

“Y/N, have you met us? We’re the new Avengers: we go on missions, we try to save the world while we also make stupid jokes about dying in a cool way. Yeah, he’s pretty much right”.

You sat down on the bed.

“I ruined everything, didn’t I?” You asked her, while your hands are on your face.

“Maybe not,” she said and you could feel that she was smiling. 

You get up immediately from the bed, as if you could feel his presence. It’s like a dream coming true. He’s standing again with an arm on the door jamb, hands in the pockets and a curl of his hair on his forehead. He had never looked more beautiful, if that was possible.

Yelena left the room with a smile on her face.

“Hi,” you said, incredibly guilty.

“Hi”, he replied. Even his voice was like drinking cold water during a hot Summer day. It was refreshing for your ears. His face, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air. He really was the man you’ve been looking for you whole life. You even dreamt about him when he was still a character in your head. “What you said the other day… it really hurt me”.

“Bob, I’m so…”

“No,” he interrupted you. “Let me finish. Honestly, I could have handled it in a better way. I also wasn’t fair to Sarah, you were right, so I broke up with her immediately after our argument”.

You were at a loss for words. 

He walked closer to you. His fingertips caressed your cheek and he was looking at you as if you were the sun and he was desperate to warm up. You felt electricity running through your veins, some tiny shots that were jumping from your back to your neck. He used his thumb to part your lips gently. Your eyes were burning because of the tears behind them. Please, let this moment never come to an end, you thought. Then, he placed his lips on yours and you lost every control over your nerves. Your hands felt the urge to tighten around his hair and your lips became hot and swollen after a short time of kissing. It was like the whole world has disappeared into his embrace. Every fantasy you had when you were little had now become a reality. You couldn’t even believe it. Every dream of yours was now there, in front of you. And they were all worth the wait.  

[robbysreaders]

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader  word count: 2.1k notes: Another part to ex!reader and babydaddy!jack thanks to @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange's reply to part 3! Fits between the Prequel and Part 1!

Jack Abbot does not want to be interviewed.

He’s made that clear to everyone — grumbling to Gloria, threatening Robby, muttering under his breath about “puff pieces” and “PR bullshit.” But he shows up anyway. Apparently, losing rock-paper-scissors and the thought of Gloria owing him a favor are enough to get him in the room.

He’s already five minutes late when he walks into the break room at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, barely glancing your way.

“Dr. Abbot?” you ask, voice a little too bright.

He doesn’t answer right away — just finishes pouring his coffee. Then, deadpan: “That’s what the name tag says.”

You blink. Smile tight. Off to a great start.

You introduce yourself, give a quick rundown of the piece — community health spotlight, frontline ER coverage, equity in urban hospital settings.

“Yeah, I read the email,” he says, finally turning. He looks like hell: scrubs wrinkled, hair a mess, a twitching vein in his temple that suggests he’s running purely on caffeine and spite. But his eyes — sharp and unexpectedly curious — hold on you.

“Let’s get started?”

You pull out your notes and recorder, settling into the seat across from him.

“This is for a piece on how ER staff are adapting to systemic constraints in—”

He lifts a hand. “Please don’t say ‘in these trying times.’”

You smirk, hitting record.

Thirty-five minutes later, your recorder is full. Your notes are chaotic. And your opinion of Dr. Jack Abbot… has evolved.

He’s still kind of a dick. But he’s compelling — sharp, honest, surprisingly self-aware. He talks with his hands, voice softening when he mentions residents by name. There’s a story there. Probably a few. But every time you try to dig, he deflects with dry humor and pointed looks that feel more teasing than defensive.

You’re packing up when he clears his throat.

“So,” he says, “you get what you need?”

“Think so,” you reply. “Unless you want to give me a stirring quote about resilience. Maybe something involving a phoenix.”

He leans back, arms folded. “How about: ‘Most days I want to punch a wall, but we’re out of budget for drywall repair.’”

You laugh. “Wow. Poetry.”

“You asked.”

You hesitate. “Honestly, I expected you to be more…”

“Hostile?”

“I was going to say ‘buttoned-up.’ But sure. Hostile works.”

He smirks. “If you wanted polished, you should’ve interviewed Robby. But I lost rock-paper-scissors.”

“Lucky me.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, voice low, “I think I’m the one whose luck is shifting.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, suddenly aware of how close he still is.

“Well… thanks for the time. I know your shift was long.”

“Mm.” He doesn’t commit to gratitude — just watches you.

You hesitate. Then — against instinct — you reach into your bag and pull out a card. “Here’s my email. Just in case anything else comes to mind.”

He takes it, thumb brushing over the raised print. “Of course. Let me show you out.”

Two days later, Jack is in a mood.

“Who pissed in his Wheaties this morning?” a nurse mutters.

“He’s been like that since that hot journalist left,” another chimes in.

“Maybe he got rejected.”

“I didn’t get rejected,” Jack snaps, startling them. “I’m just a sleep-deprived idiot who washed her damn business card with my scrubs.”

“Oh my God,” someone groans. “She’s a journalist. Just look her up and make up a reason to email. Jesus.”

Your inbox pings.

Subject: Quote Clarification From: jack.abbot@ptmh.org I meant “systemic negligence” not “strategic indifference” in that part about state funding. Also, I never said “heroic.” Ever. Want to make that crystal clear. If you want to double-check the phrasing, I know a place with good fries and strong drinks. -Abbot

You stare at it. Then reread. Is he… asking you out?

God help you, you kind of hope he is.

You reply:

Sure. As long as you don’t try to rewrite your quotes mid-pint.

The bar is dim, divey, absolutely his pick — confirmed when the bartender greets him with, “You back already?” and your drinks hit the table before you sit down.

“You have a tab here?” you ask.

“I had a chair with my name on it,” he says. “Until they caught me revising journal drafts on my days off.”

You laugh. “Work-life balance going well, I see.”

“The fries help.”

He’s in jeans and a black T-shirt. Still rumpled, but clearly intentional. Hair pushed back, eyes clear. The difference is subtle. But it’s there.

“So,” he says. “Am I worse in print than in person?”

“Oh, definitely,” you tease. “But very quotable.”

“That a line you use on all your sources?”

“Only the ones who share their fries.”

You both reach for the same one. Fingers brush. His breath hitches.

The air shifts.

You fall into easy rhythm. He tells stories — the worst shift, the weirdest patient, the quiet things that don’t make the cut but still shape the job. You tell him about being locked in a janitor’s closet at a mayoral debate. By the time you finish your drinks, you’re both laughing more than talking.

Your knees knock under the table.

He glances down. Then up. “So… is this part of the fact-checking process?”

You tilt your head. “Would you prefer it was?”

“Depends,” he murmurs. “You gonna quote what I say next?”

You pause. Then: “Not unless it’s good.”

His eyes stay on you. Then he leans in.

“How about this?”

The kiss is quiet at first. Soft. Testing. But deepens fast — hands in your hair, thumb at your jaw, like he’s been thinking about this since the interview and just needed the excuse.

When he trails down your neck, you forget your name.

You’re still catching your breath when he mutters, “Too forward to ask if you want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” you say. “But I like forward.”

He grins, hand low on your back. “Fifteen minutes this way. If you don’t mind walking.”

“Lead the way.”

You wake up slowly — not to an alarm, but to the quiet shift of weight beside you. Sheets tangled, room faintly lit by the early gray of morning. For a moment, you don’t move. Just listen.

Jack’s already awake. You can feel it in the way his breath has steadied, his body warm and solid beside yours, one hand resting lightly at your waist like he forgot to move it.

Your voice is quiet. “You always up this early?”

“I don’t sleep well. Occupational hazard,” he murmurs.

You turn toward him. He’s propped on one elbow, hair a mess, shirtless, gaze already on you. There’s something cautious in it — like he doesn’t want to push too hard, too soon.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“I think so.” A beat. “Little disappointed you didn’t try to sneak out. Would’ve made things easier.”

He smirks. “I thought about it. But then I realized, this is my house and I didn’t have anywhere to sneak off to.”

Your heart drops a bit “Oh shit, I spent the night. I don’t spend the night.” You try to get out of bed but his arm has you lightly locked in.

He watches your expression, then adds, voice lower, “I’m not in a rush. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You search his face. “So what is this then?”

He shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “Something I haven’t stopped thinking about since the break room.”

You huff a laugh. “God. I really thought you hated me.”

“I did,” he says. “For like the first two minutes. And then I realized you were just really fucking good at your job.”

You smile. “You know this is probably a bad idea, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, gaze lingering on your lips. “But not the worst one I’ve ever had.”

There’s a stillness between you. Not awkward. Just quiet.

From then on, you’re basically attached at the hip. Any free moment either of you has is spent together—or texting, though Jack is, hands down, the worst texter you've ever met. Half the time it’s just one-word replies. Sometimes emojis that don’t make sense. Once, a photo of a traffic cone with no context. But you find it weirdly charming.

Two months in, he invites you to grab breakfast after one of his night shifts. “Swing by the hospital,” he says. “We can walk from there. Just let them know you’re here for me, they’ll let you in.”

You’re nervous walking in. You’ve been here before, obviously—it’s how you met Jack—but it feels different now. Like meeting the family. And you haven’t even talked about labels.

But the moment he spots you, his whole face lights up. He cuts across the nurse’s station toward you without hesitation.

“Hi,” he says, giving you a quick kiss. “You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“No, no,” you murmur, caught off guard by the PDA, especially in his workplace. “Just got here.”

“Perfect.” He glances at a chart in his hand. “I just need to hand this off and then we’re good to go. Mind sitting here for a sec?”

He leads you to his desk, and it’s all so… Jack. A photo of him and a few Army buddies, a coffee-stained mug with a jackrabbit on it, a bumper sticker that reads Honk if you love amputees, and—tucked behind his monitor—your article, folded up like something worth saving.

You don’t even get a chance to sit fully before a couple of nurses wander over.

“That article you wrote? Incredible,” one of them says. “You really captured the systemic issues. We appreciate you shining a light on it in such a visible way.”

“Oh—it was an honor to be trusted with the story,” you reply, a little flustered. “You all do the hard work. I just hope it helps spark something.”

You feel Jack behind you before you hear him.

“You two done harassing my girl?” he teases, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You don’t miss the look exchanged between the nurses before they excuse themselves, already whispering as they disappear down the hall.

“Alright,” he says, tilting his head toward the exit. “Ready to go?”

“What, no grand tour? You were so rude the first time I was here—I didn’t get one then.”

He smirks. “Fine, whatever. Let me show you around.”

He takes you on a brisk loop, introducing you to a few of the names you've heard in passing—Santos, Samira, the guy who once threw out his back trying to do a TikTok challenge. Then a voice rings out:

“Abbot, leave. You were off fifteen minutes ago. Get out.”

You turn to see Robby, grinning, arms crossed.

Jack sighs. “Just showing a guest around before heading to the diner.”

“Ohhh,” Robby says, eyes narrowing. 

“This is the Robby?” you ask, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for being so good at rock-paper-scissors. I wouldn't have met this guy without you.”

Robby laughs. “Ah, the journalist. It’s about time. Great article, by the way.”

“Had some great sources,” you reply.

You leave the hospital together, walking a few blocks to a small diner. Once you’re settled in a booth and sipping coffee, you nudge his knee under the table.

“Demoted from ‘your girl’ to ‘a guest’ in a matter of minutes. Think I failed the family meet-and-greet.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, I’ve been panicking about that for the last twenty minutes. I froze. First time felt natural… saying it again, in front of Robby, just felt…presumptuous.”

“I didn’t mind,” you say, voice a little quiet. “We haven’t talked about it, but… I didn’t mind. I’m not seeing anyone else. Just… so you know.”

He looks at you, serious now. “Yeah. Me neither.”

You smile, tentative. “Good to know. I’m not really planning on seeing anyone else.”

“I sure hope not,” he says, then falters. “I, uh… don’t really want to keep doing this unless we’re exclusive. But if that’s not what you’re looking for, I—”

“Jack,” you interrupt, amused. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He groans again. “You don’t have to make it sound like we’re in third grade.”

“Well, you’re kind of acting like it.”

“Okay, yes,” he says, finally meeting your eyes with a grin. “I’m asking. Officially. Want to be my girlfriend?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmmm. Depends. Will you start texting like a normal person?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then yes,” you say. “But only because you’re cute.”

He laughs, reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with yours. “Deal.”

And just like that—without fireworks, without ceremony—you’re his. And he’s yours.

[heartyluv]

Note: I had received two asks that were pretty similar, so I figured merging them together was the best way to go! Also, I just wanted to say how much I really dislike the misconception that losing your virginity is something that is supposed to hurt. It’s absolutely not true…Is it a possibility? Sure. But with the right preparation, care, and patience from the one who is going to be penetrating you (if that is the route of intercourse you choose to take), depending on the person, the most you may feel is slight discomfort from experiencing something you never have before. We have to stop making pain an expectation for individuals with vaginas irl and in the things we consume!!! Anyways, I hope you luvlys enjoy! 😚

Click to read ➜ Ask #1 • Ask #2

Warning: Smut, you and Zayne lose your virginity to each other, kinda slow (Zayne is undoubtedly a man who takes his time, so I hope it taking a little bit to get down to the do is okay), mentions of you having a brother with a heart condition

Rating: Explicit - !!MDNI!!

Word Count: 3.6K (literally didn’t expect this at all)

Summary: You invited your boyfriend over for dinner and as the night progresses, a simple date turns into you two learning and exploring one another in ways you never have before.

Virgin!Zayne/Virgin!Reader

You were trying to keep yourself calm as you began to baste the nearly ready ribeye steak after reading Zayne’s text message.

I’ll be there in five minutes.

You were incredibly nervous, wanting to make sure that you prepared the best meal possible for the man you intended to show your gratitude to. When you met Zayne, it was almost two years ago. He was the saving grace you’d been hoping for, becoming the doctor taking care of your little brother Andrew who has been suffering from a heart condition. It was only getting worse as other treatments and surgeries offered no positive results, so putting all your faith in Zayne required you to surrender your last bit of hope.

You fell in love with Dr. Li the moment your eyes landed on him and even more so when you saw the way he treated your brother. He was so gentle and attentive with him in ways you’ve never seen offered by any of the other medical professionals your family tried to turn to for help.

He had specifically made sure to make time for your family when he had gotten ahold of the paperwork because Zayne has always had a soft spot for helping children in need. It was with zero hesitation on his part that he contacted your parents directly and had them bring in the ten year old little boy who wouldn’t let his condition break him no matter how hard it’s tried.

You knew Zayne was a stupendous doctor, but the rate in which your brother began to improve always brought you to tears no matter how many times you thought about it. Everything he did and continues to do is the reason why you could actually stop worrying as much as you have been and why your family could finally take a breather for the first time since Andrew was born.

Your daily visits to the hospital and conversations led to you and Zayne becoming friends—very much to his surprise—and while you may have been the one to fall first, Zayne fell infinitely harder over time at a pace that was foreign for a man like him. The day he asked you out for what he called a “friendly lunch”, quickly turned into a month and a half of dating before he asked you to be his girlfriend. Obviously you were bouncing off the walls with joy when you told him yes over and over again until your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

And now, even if you’ve only been official for a short amount of time, you wanted to cater to the man you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with as a way of saying thank you despite having had said it so many times already.

At the same time that you cut the stove off, three soft knocks rapt against the front door of your apartment. You quickly washed and dried your hands, running barefoot to answer it, but not before you got a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror beside the entrance. You’re proud of yourself for not getting your cherry red dress dirty, smoothing it out with a small huff.

No matter how long you’ve known Zayne, seeing him always feels like the first time with the way your insides flutter with rampant emotions.

Finally pulling the door open, you smile at your boyfriend who has a bouquet of red peonies in his hand. His eyes soften when they land on you and you’ve always found it so cute when he uses his knuckle to push his glasses up like he does now.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly. You silently fawn over his simple attire of a black dress shirt and slacks that he makes look sexier than what it should be.

Before you speak, you wrap your arms around his neck for a tight hug, to which he gladly reciprocates by encircling one of his own around your waist. You pulled back to press a quick kiss to his slender nose.

“Thank you, babe...These for me?” Your eyebrow raises playfully as he steps inside.

“Of course.” He faces you once you’ve locked the door to look you over again. “What kind of guest would I be to come empty handed?”

“You’re more than just a guest, Zayne.”

“It still applies, nonetheless. Two things can be true.”

You take the bouquet, making a note in your mind to have him trim the stems with you tonight before putting them in one of the vases he’s bought before. He watches with adoration at how you inhale their sweet scent, humming at the calming aroma.

“They’re perfect,” you exclaim, letting your fingers trace the soft petals before putting your attention back on him. “Ready to eat?”

“I am. I must say that whatever you’ve prepared smells quite good. As I assume the taste to be just as impressive, I’ll have a lot more eating to get around to, won’t I?”

You grin as you take his hand, guiding him to your small dining table. “Let’s find out.”

Not only was dinner a success, but the entirety of the night so far has had you on cloud nine. You and Zayne talked about any and everything as he praised you and your cooking. This was the first time you’ve ever prepared a meal for him and with the way he devoured it, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You’ve never been a woman to seek validation but when it came to him, every opinion he had was important because of how much you valued and respected him.

To see how much he enjoyed the steak, crispy potatoes, and broccolini, made you feel a sense of pride because this beautiful man was yours to feed forever—if you were granted such a gift.

He and you slow danced to a classical song you showed him since you knew music like that always calmed him during times where work got a little stressful and his mind needed something to mellow it all out. It was a scene straight out of cheesy romance flick but instead of being the watcher, wishing it was you who got to experience that corniness, you were actually living it and it couldn’t be more surreal.

One song had turned into four, and you can’t stop giggling the whole time as he holds your hand and sways your bodies to the gentle instruments working together to create a lovely symphony.

And to your liking—admittedly with a little bit of hesitation in your gut—Zayne began to get more handsy.

“This night is supposed to be about you,” you whisper as his hand presses you closer to him by your lower back.

“Anywhere you are is all there is to me.”

“Hm…Aren’t you quite the poet?”

He chuckles at that. “You see my truth as poetry?”

“Everything you do is poetic to me,” you shrug. “You’re so effortlessly intense in your emotions, but it’s not in a way that overwhelms. It…surrounds you instead. Protects you.”

“You haven’t had all of me just yet to know how much my intensity can burn.”

That sends shivers down your spine because you know exactly what he means. You can feel how your heartbeat increases.

“Really? And if I wanted to see?”

“You would be the first to and I’d be more than willing to show you.” The way his tone lowers and the suggestiveness of his statement makes every single goosebump possible dot along your skin.

Your eyes slightly widen, too. There’s no way. A man like him? You stop your movement, forcing him to do the same.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What exactly do you assume I’m saying?”

“Zayne!” you say in playful disbelief at how he seems to joke about some crucial information he’s never shared. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” He smiles with mischief, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No matter how well I can read the expressions on your face, I unfortunately can never read your mind.”

“You’re so…” you groan. “You’re telling me the youngest, most handsome and talented cardiac surgeon in the country, has never had sex with anyone?”

“Never,” he says plainly.

“Why have you never said anything? You seem like someone to share a fact like that pretty early on.”

“While conversations pertaining to intimacy is inevitable in romantic relationships, because I did not want to intimidate you—and simply because it never became a topic of discussion—I never felt it was necessary to mention.” He gazes into your eyes. “Until now.”

“What’s different?”

“Well, it’s become a reality that I wouldn’t mind changing. If you were to give me the permission to do so, of course.” His hand cups your face and his thumb caresses your cheek. “I’ve dated before and I’ve had moments where the opportunity would arise, but sex has never been a casual exchange in my eyes. There’s nothing casual about us though, is there?”

You’re dumbfounded and more than willing to, but there’s just one thing. You briefly respond to his question with a shake of your head first before announcing your admission.

“I’ve never done this before either,” you breathe out, feeling immense relief about revealing something you shouldn’t have been embarrassed to say, but you knew it was the expectations of society that made you feel that way. But now, learning that Zayne is exactly the same brings you so much comfort, even if your reasonings for why may be different.

You’ve only been dating a little over two months and miraculously, sex has never happened nor has it been talked about. Similarly to him, you didn’t want to rush it or to make him feel obligated about something you weren’t sure he was ready for. Despite how much you wanted to jump his bones on all your dates and times together, you spent more of it appreciating and learning the complex man that is him.

But all that complexity is dropped as you can clearly see the lust that clouds his beautiful eyes and the need that continues to grow in the way he touches you.

“Maybe we were always meant to be the ones to find and teach each other. Would you like to test that theory?”

It’s like your body gravitates towards him and becomes incapable of forming a sentence to answer, so it takes the next best route and uses itself to respond for you. Your lips make contact with his soft ones, tasting him like you’ve done before, but there’s a different air to this kiss.

Your body presses into his as he keeps you in place by the back of your neck, the brief chill of his silver watch cooling the fervent heat burning along your skin. His tongue slips inside your mouth—not taking control—but working with yours in tandem to show you how mutual the craving for one another is.

The way he takes only a millisecond to separate from you to remove his glasses makes your pussy clench as he discards them on your kitchen counter. He returns to you immediately, holding your face in his hands this time while yours work frantically to unbutton the shirt that’s keeping you from seeing him.

You moan when he kisses down the side of your neck, your breath unable to stabilize because of how hot he’s gotten you.

“Your room,” he mumbles into you. “Let me do this right.”

You nod, but Zayne has you in his arms effortlessly like you’re made of paper before you can try and take him there. The dishes you haven’t washed become a problem for another time when you feel his bulge press against your hungry pussy through your panties on his trek.

He turns your light on so that he can see you clearly, his disheveled look making you think every filthy thought possible. It’s a sight to see compared to his usual put-together image.

“Even if this is new for us both,” he approaches you again, looking into your eyes for permission before he begins to slide the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders after you grant it. “You’re in control. You tell me what will and won’t happen and that is what it will be.”

Left in your bra and panties, you feel so grateful to have a man like him being the one to walk into this world pleasure with. But despite how comfortable you are with him, you’re still nervous. It’s with slightly shaky hands that you continue to undo the rest of his buttons, feeling his eyes on you as his hard body is revealed.

You can’t stop from how you clench over and over around nothing, knowing that you need him to fill that emptiness inside you so desperately that it’s becoming uncomfortable. The clink of his belt makes your nipples tighten and you watch how the veins disappear into his pants like they’re a pathway to where you need to be.

He lets the silence rest, allowing for you to move at your own pace. For that, you’re incredibly thankful because you know that by the way his abs flex every time you graze his skin, the desire to be all over you is strong.

You gulp as you get the pants completely undone, looking up at him. He doesn’t waste a moment nodding for you to keep going, the need to be released from his confines becoming overwhelming. He strains so deliciously in his black boxers that cling to his thighs and it shouldn’t be such an erotic image, but it is.

“Fuck, Zayne…” you exhale when his erect cock springs out and briefly smacks against his toned stomach. Like the rest of him, it’s absolutely perfect. Long but not too long, thick but not too much girth that it makes you wince at the mere thought of it inside of you, and curved ever so slightly that if you weren’t taking the time to admire it, you wouldn’t notice.

There’s a tingle that you can no longer ignore, forcing you to press your thighs together. You’re so wet that you can feel your pussy lips slide against each other every time you shift your hips to suppress the ache.

You grasp him in your hand and the way he borderline falls apart has you gushing. His mouth is slightly parted and his face flushed as you stroke him enough to give his cock some relief.

“Does that feel good?” You swipe your thumb over the tip like you’ve see so many times in videos before and the reaction he has is breathtaking. He nods frantically, his heartbeat pulsing rapidly in his strong neck.

“Please let me touch you,” he begs. “You’re supposed to be feeling good, too.”

“I already do.” You start to jerk him off, feeling the weight of his dick in your hand as you use his precum to get him wet. “I’m yours, Zayne. Touch me as much as you want.”

What kind of man would he be to not listen to his woman?

He quickly makes work of your tedious bra, getting it off of you and immediately sucking on your tits like it’s all that was on his mind during your teasing. You cry out when he gently bites your sensitive nub before switching over to the other to give it some attention. At the same time, he snakes his hand into your panties.

You instinctively raise your leg to give him room as he works your clit, your hips bucking against him while he circles you beneath his fingertip. Together, you use your hands to stoke each other’s raging fire.

“Baby, that feels so good,” you whine when his hot tongue lays flat against your peak before licking around it like it’s a skill he’s had all along. His fingers keep their steady pace as you continue to drench them in your pleasure. Then he slides one finger inside, the feeling of him infinitely better than when you do it to yourself.

“Lay down,” he mumbles, getting one more quick suck before you pull back to get into your bed. You watch him pull his clothes off all the way, your legs spread as your panties dig in between the plush lips of your cunt.

Zayne picks up his pants briefly to dig into his pocket and when he pulls out a condom, you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never carried one before until I met you,” he admits, tossing it on your end table for easy access when it’s time. “I always knew it would be you and humans are spontaneous creatures—as we’re proving.”

He climbs into the bed, getting in between your legs and caressing the outside of your thighs as he admires the dampened fabric of where your juices have soaked your underwear. “I just wanted to be prepared for when it happened.”

Irresponsibly enough, you were ready to fuck him raw, but you won’t admit that out loud.

“I’m ready for you, Zayne,” you rest your hand on his jaw, running your finger across his lips like he always does to yours. He shudders at your touch. “But if I said that I wanted to be on top, would you let me?”

“You don’t need my permission. I already told you,” he leans down to kiss you. “You’re in control.

You get up and he doesn’t need you to tell him to sit so that you can get ready to climb in his lap. While you work your panties down your legs, he rips the packaging of the condom with his teeth and you nearly drool as you watch him work the rubber down his hard cock.

Riding Zayne has been a fantasy you’ve had for far too long. You’re more than confident that you can take him like this—it’s like your body is screaming at you to not let the opportunity pass when it’s right there for you to take.

“Look at me,” he commands you gently as your knees rest on either side of him. “Don’t hesitate to stop or tell me to if it gets too much. Your safety and comfort comes first.”

“Okay,” you breathe. With one more look into your eyes, he guides his dick to your quivering hole and the pleasure is instantaneous.

The moment the crown of his cock pushes inside you and you begin to sink your hips down, you and him are moaning like you’ve never felt anything so perfect and if you were to ask each other, your answer would be the same—you haven’t.

There’s no pain, no resistance—nothing that makes you want to stop when he starts to become familiar with the way you feel on the inside.

If he feels this good with a condom on, you’re convinced that the day you have him without one will be the day you conceive your first child.

“Zayne..” you pant, looking down to watch how he disappears completely into your heat. The first time you grind your hips and your clit gets that spark of friction, you have to pause before you lost yourself completely.

Below you, your boyfriend is unable to think straight and for the first time in your life, you’re witnessing your man have no semblance of control. When your tight walls sucked him inside, he was so sure that he was close to coming, but he refused to end something so good, so soon.

With his hands on your hips, he holds you firmly while you start to find your comfort zone, your movement becoming consistent as you work towards giving him and you the satisfaction you’re looking for.

You never expected Zayne to be so vocal and it encourages you more than it shocks you. With hooded eyes, he whimpers without a care in the world the more he pulses inside of you, his grip shifting in strength as he tries his hardest to make sure you get there first. You press yourself closer to him, letting the squelching sounds of your pussy suffocating him be all the reassurance you need that you’re doing it right.

“I’m close, love,” he warns you, sweat beading at his hairline the faster you go. Your thighs burn, but it only adds to the bliss.

You’re right there too, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach that’s grown tenfold when you share this kind of moment with the man you love. You rock yourself faster as his strong arms hold you tight, giving his cock no room to breathe the closer your orgasm approaches.

“You’re….oh fuck, ‘s so good,” you cry. “I’m gonna…Zayne, ‘m coming—” You bury your face in his neck when you start creaming around his length, your hips slowing but still going as you feel the condom swell inside of you when he spills his load into it. Briefly, you wished you could’ve felt it leak out of you instead.

You feel how his chest rises when yours falls as you kiss down his shoulder after you take the time to settle and relish in the feeling you can’t quite name, but you want to have it all the time.

“That was nice,” you hum. “Really nice.”

“It was.” His hands smooth down your back tenderly. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Good. On that we can agree.”

You sit back to look at him, biting your lip with a grin. “You…have another condom?”

“No, unfortunately.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “But I can make a trip to the store for a box.”

“Are we being greedy?”

“Greed implies that we’ve selfishly overindulged ourselves. That was our first time, love.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “We are far from being finished.”

You repeat his words, knowing that he’s absolutely right.

“On that, we can agree.”

A/N: I wanted to ask you guys: Do you like when I give you a whole bunch of plot/backstory before I start jumping into smut or do you just want smut? I think it’s the book writer in me that’s always trying to give something before I dive into the sex LOLLL!! Also, let me know what you think about this one (if you’re comfortable). I’m sure you noticed there wasn’t as much dialogue because as two inexperienced people having sex for the first time, I’m sure dirty talking/actions wouldn’t really be happening, so this fic is really vanilla & mainly based on visualizing. I hope I wrote it vividly enough. I talked a lot on this post, didn’t I? LOLLL OKAY, I LUV YOU! BYE!

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

Tomorrow is my birthday. I'll finish up my homework and test prep so I can face it in the best condition!

Summon: I'm gonna give it my all this year, too. As long as I'm putting in the effort to get even closer to the person I want to be, it'll all be worth it in the end!

Groovification: Fixed up my appearance good enough. I'm gonna do all I can in my classes and club today, then party hard!

Home: Alright... Time to study!

Swap Looks: Guess I'll wake up already.

Home Transition 1: It was really a mess letting my natural hair color grow out after I'd dyed it blond. For a while I looked like I had flan hair... That was pretty embarrassing.

Home Transition 2: Asim-senpai invited me a Pop Music Club performances as my birthday gift. I'm gonna make sure I act properly and enjoy myself!

Home Transition 3: Recently, my roommates are all about playing card games. We get along well...? No way, they're all keeping me from studying!

Home Transition - Login: Time for tasty eats and good conversation... Being able to hang with everyone on your birthday is the best!

Home Transition - Groovy:  During our lunch period, Hunt-senpai read me an off-the-cuff poem. But it was a little too hard for me to understand... Maybe day I'll get it?

Home Tap 1: I gotta mature even more, now that I've passed another birthday! I'll try doing stuff like remembering all the Queen of Hearts' rules... Not that I'm good at memorization, though.

Home Tap 2: I didn't know horses could run that fast. Watching Silver-senpai during his club practice made me want to take a Blastcycle for a spin.

Home Tap 3: I love every single egg dish. Whenever I finish studying, I always want to eat a soft and fluffy egg cake.

Home Tap 4: The way Schoenheit-senpai ties his tie is really elegant, isn't it? I want to be able to tie mine like that. Guess I should practice!

Home Tap 5: My mom picked out these sweats. She's got good taste, don'tcha think? I really like the in-your-face color.

Home Tap - Groovy: As my birthday gets closer, I get more and more excited every time I look at the calendar. Wait... Is that too childish?

Duo: [DEUCE]: I'll show you just how much more I can grow, Hunt-senpai! [ROOK]: Deuce-kun, I'm rooting for you!

Birthday Login Message: You came to celebrate my birthday? ....Huh, and you even brought a gift!? I bet I'm gonna love whatever's inside. Well, that's 'cause it's something my best bud got for me. Oh yeah, that reminds me. Jack said he'd get me something good if I beat him in a race... But when I lost by the narrowest margin, he looked kinda put off. Wait, was he planning on getting me a gift, or something? I should go ask him later. Anyway, thanks for the gift, [Yuu]!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[latenighttalkinqwp]

Hey I know you have a lot of tiktok trend asks but can you please do the one where you don't say "I love you" back

tiktok trends with paige! pt. 11

( thank u all so much for 900 followers!! )

basked off of this tiktok trend!

“okay- just pull up to this door and i’ll run inside and get what i need.” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “okay, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” she leans over and presses a kiss to your lips, as she pulls up to the doors of target. “no, if you come in then you’re going to influence me to get things that i don’t need. which, i’m probably going to get anyway, but you can’t say no.” she laughs, handing you her card. “you know, most girls like their girlfriends spoiling them.” you roll your eyes, climbing out of her truck. “okay, i love you.” she yells, as you close the door. laughing, you practically run inside of target before she can stop you.

“okay- guys i barely escaped her.” you grab a basket, looking for the face wash you need. “so, paige uses cerave, yknow, sponsor ship and all that. but i use the-“ you get cut off, as your phone begins to ring. “hello?” you hold back a laugh, propping up the camera so you could put her on speaker. “um, i think you forgot something in the car.” she sasses, waiting for your response. “uh, no. you gave me my purse and everything i needed was in there.” putting the face wash in the basket, you continue arguing back and forth with the blonde. “why didn’t you say you loved me.” she mumbles, fidgeting with something in her lap.

you look back at the camera, not knowing what to say. “what do you mean? i totally did.” grabbing what you need, you speed your way to the self checkout because the guilt was eating you alive. “don’t play with me rightnow.” paige clicks her tongue, hanging up the phone whenever she sees you walking out to the car. “babyyyyy, i’m sorry. it was just a prank. you know i love you so much.” you open your door, throwing yourself over the center console and wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

“mhm, that’s what i thought.”

- thank you so much for reading all the way through! find more of this series on my masterlist! likes and reblogs are appreciated 💘

- this was something cute and fast hehe, more blurbs and all the things coming soon!!!!!!!

[eechytooru]

Oh my GGGGGOSH I LOVE HOW YOU DRAW THE SKELEBROS SO MUCH ’M TWEAKING OUT 😭😭 IT ITCHES A PART IN MY BRAIN THAT I DIDNT KNOW NEEDED TO BE SCRATCHED

anyways,

*skitters away with a suspiciously cool skeleton-shaped lump in my throat OM NOM NOM

HELLO HELLO HELLOOO!!!! AWWWHH thank you for ask and your kind words!!!<333 (GET THE SKELETON OUT OF YOUR THROAT YOU WILL CHOKE)

I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH AND since i have this ask, i will post some doodles i made with them heehee

It’s so funny to try to learn their dynamic and character through interactions, I’m literally drowning in affection for them

Well… he tried…

a silly thing I thought about aaeehhh)))

ALSO??? I checked my inbox NAD I WAS SO SHOKED TO SEE SO MANY??? I ABSOLUTELY FORGOT I LEFT IT OPEN OH GODDDD I’ll try to clean it someday uhggrhh… aaaaaaa 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[yukioos]

Heey! I love your writing so so much! Can you do something about Aizawa? :3

leaving a kiss on shota’s cheek before he teaches his class

sunlight peeked through the curtains, causing you to wince and curl further into the warm, burly arms that wrapped around you protectively. the alarm clock beside you rang loud, and the man holding you sighed, waking up from his deep sleep. he turned and turned off the alarm clock, then turned back to you to pet your hair and rub your back.

shota kissed your forehead and grumbled, “good morning,” then softly spoke, “i need to get ready for work.”

you sighed and dug yourself deeper into his grasp, emitting a sigh and soft chuckle from him. after a few more minutes, you untangled your limbs and sat up, walking out of bed to make breakfast and put on some lipstick, which you would put to use later.

not even half an hour later, breakfast was done, and shota’s feet thumped down the stairs, revealing the outfit he normally wore to the school. you already plated the food, and. both of you sat down at the table, eating together while shota spoke about what had happened in school.

“i might stay after school to help shinso with his form for fighting. he wants to train more and learn how to use his scarf,” he stated, pausing in between bites to speak to you.

you nodded, “fine by me. that boy has great potential, i’m glad you’re his teacher, shota.” you complimented.

he gave you a soft smile, and once the two of you were done with your food, he walked to your side of the table and took all your dishes in one hand, then washed them one by one. you gave a small thank you and kissed his bicep, making his face heat up.

a few minutes later, he walked near the front of the door and stepped into his boots, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. with everything going on with the league of villains, he never liked leaving without saying a heartfelt goodbye. he never knew if it would be his last.

you grinned into the embrace he brought you into, and you rubbed your hand against his chest, softly pulling him down to give him a big, fat kiss on his cheek. it clearly left a mark, very visible, very clear that he had a wife at home.

you grinned at your work, and shota asked, “what?”

shaking your head, you spoke, “it’s nothing.” you murmured, “you’re just so handsome,” you paused. “anyway, have a good day with the kids!”

he chuckled and rubbed your cheek with his hand, speaking, “love you,” waiting for you to respond, then leaving to drive his car to UA.

you locked the door after him and laughed. you wondered how his students would react to the kiss mark on his cheek.

when shota walked into the campus, he got some weird looks from students passing by and even stares. he frowned right back at them, sternly speaking, “hurry to class.” and they would do so, sometimes even doing so much as running in the halls so they wouldn’t be late.

but when he walked into class 1-a’s room, everyone fell silent. it looked like some of the students, such as kaminari, sero, and mineta were trying not to laugh, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. those three, though not always together, were always messing around in one way or another.

shota rolled his eyes and began teaching the class during their first period, and hours passed, students from different classes joined his room and they all looked like they were trying to not look at something. maybe people were feeling off today, it was a monday, after all. students were never normal when coming back to school.

it wasn't until his lunch break that he noticed the kiss mark on his cheek.

hizashi barged into the room, yelling, “heyyyy, shota— woah!” he cut himself off, grinning wildly and placing his hands on shota’s desk.

shota sighed and asked, “what?” curious as to why he was acting weird too.

“got some lovin’ from your lady back at home, huh? must love you a lot based on that mark!” his childhood best friend exclaimed, pointing to his cheek.

shota raised his eyebrow and pulled out his phone, opening the camera app and panning it to his face. there stood a dark red lipstick shape on his cheek, from you.

he grinned and sent a quick text to you, ‘let’s try out your other lipsticks later.’

he was interrupted by hizashi’s loud, booming voice, screaming, “you’re as red as a tomato, shota! you must really love this, huh?”

shota rolled his eyes and scoffed, “shut it.”

he did indeed love it.

i’m so happy you love my writing, so i hope this is up to your expectations as well!

[yhwcomeback]

Sorry I think about that art piece where Brad's like "holy shit I fumbled the green ninja" at least once a day PLEASE yap about your ideal greenflower or something (me personally I'm obsessed with loser fail boy Brad "Immediately Down Bad" Tudabone and his pretty boy boyfriend Lloyd but that was. Obvious I think)

I'm brainrotted.

OKAY OKAY SO. My version of Greenflower is that at first, Lloyd had a childhood crush on Brad. In return Brad is just really annoyed by Lloyd, because Lloyd was very pushy and tried his best to be closer to Brad, but Brad just wasn't having it, he thought Lloyd was stupid for trusting people so easily, so he sorta didn't like him at all LOL. (Lloyd also tried to help Brad in his secret garden, only to piss Brad off after killing half of the flowers on accident) Lloyd tries confessing several times, and Brad just brushed him off and told him to go away. So a few months before Lloyd left, Lloyd just gave up, stoped talking to Brad and moved on, promising himself to never try to get that close to someone (leading him to avoid any sort of romantic interection like in the show). BUT problem isss!!! after Lloyd leaves, Brad becomes really lonely! like before he left, Lloyd was always running around behind him, and while Brad thought he was annoying they were friends, and Brad missed him.... ANYWAY THIS LEADS HIM TO YEARNING FOR A GOOD 10 YEARS LIKE A LOSER Lloyd easily moved on, like damn, he forgot about Brad entirely. Older Brad, on the other hand, can't, because while he doesn't see Lloyd nor talk to him, Lloyd is still very much there, he's the green ninja. Brad doesn't have the luxary of forgetting! everywhere he looks, commercials, the news, like FUCK even the plants he waters are Green!!! sometimes he gets theses burst of disbelief about how HARD he fumbled that bag, and Gene is just like "Gee dude move on" while Brad is pulling his hair out and grinding his teeth anyway he's a dumbass and Lloyd can't even remember his name xoxo

[fir-fireweed]

Chapter 3 will drop June 6!

If you haven’t already seen in asks and on itch.io, Cantata Chapter 3 is complete and will go live on June 6! 🥳 In this next chapter, you will:

Do some stuff. Maybe flirt. Probably fight. Perhaps meet several new characters. You know… stuff. Nothing much happening here.

But let’s say, hypothetically, if something were to happen in this chapter, I wouldn’t answer any asks related to it for at least a week. I want to give others enough time to read without spoilers. Feel free to send in asks, just know I may not answer right away depending on the content. And if you comment on my itch page, please be respectful of others and mark it as spoilers and put it beneath a large enough space.

But this is all moot anyway. Since nothing at all interesting happens in this chapter. 😇😈

I didn’t change anything in the first 2 chapters, so save files should work. I fixed an issue in the save screen where it didn’t scroll down before, but does now. I made a few changes to the Character Profile and Codex, and I added links for the music in the Credits, in case anyone wants to find the tunes on Pixabay. 😊

Thank you, always, for following along with me and this story!

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari listened, a small smile forming as Hawks talked about how he had access to records and databases. She let out a soft sigh of relief. Then Hawks asked if Kari really wanted to look into this, if she was ready for it.

She took a moment to think about it. "I know... When it comes to them I kinda hold onto things I probably shouldn't... Make life harder for myself from carrying stuff I shouldn't, but at the same time my quirk is weird and it's something my mom was supposed to teach me." The child relaxed her shoulders, letting out a sigh while she gazed off into the middle distance and let her thoughts just roam for a bit. "I know I can talk to her in that weird mind place thing like that one time...But I don't know how to get there myself, I'm not sure how it happened. So I need to learn in other ways right now, and learning about my mom and dad as best as I can, however I can, is probably the best place to start." She muttered.

"It's mostly to learn about my quirk, but also to see if there's anything else I should know... I'm not sure what that could be, but I just... I just wanna know. So, I think I'm ready for it. I feel like I kinda need to look into this anyway, I feel like it could help me a lot." Kari rubbed the back of her head then looked at Hawks with a nervous grin. "I mean, I'm very curious about stuff." She chirped then stretched. "Do you think we can go today? If we can then I'll need to brush my hair and wash my face a bit. Well, I'll do that regardless."

The child giggled then gave a relaxed smile. "I know I've said this a lot but... Thanks Papa."

Hawks held Kari’s pinky with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting their hands drop to the bedspread. Her solemn words, the fierce way she said “It better not come to that”—it hit him in the chest more than she probably realized. That sharp edge in her voice was something he knew well. He’d used it himself when he was younger. And just like her, it always came from the same place: fear of losing the only good thing you’ve got left.

He let the silence linger a moment longer before finally speaking, his voice softer than usual but firm, reassuring.

“Yeah… I’m not planning on going anywhere, kiddo. I’ve dodged enough bullets, blades, and bureaucrats for a lifetime. I’m not going down easy.” He gave her a lopsided smirk and a wink. “You’re stuck with me.”

When she brought up her parents—Re-Done and Angelic—Hawks’ expression shifted. Thoughtful. He nodded slowly, brows furrowing just slightly in consideration. “You’ve got that fire in you, y’know that?” he said, ruffling her hair lightly. “Asking the right questions, pushing for answers. That’s the first step to understanding what you’re really capable of.” Then he sat back a little and gave her a serious nod.

“Yeah, we can definitely look into it. I’ve got access to the Hero Commission archives and some old databases that aren’t public anymore. If your parents were registered Pro Heroes, there’s a good chance there’s something on file—mission records, quirk evaluations, maybe even footage or interviews if they were ever highlighted by the media.”

“You sure you’re ready for that, though? What you find out might not all be good. Records don’t filter the truth the way memories do. And you already carry a lot on your shoulders.”