#but I didn’t care much about the rest of him

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[satorusugurugurl]

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[nottsangel]

i need more of theoX readerX ron 🙏🏻

it’s such an unexpected duo i didn’t know i needed‼️

— more theo x reader x ron

“that’s it, baby. ride him just like that.” theo growls into your ear, harshly grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. he slips his fingers into your already drooling mouth, making you suck on them as you lazily gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes. a cocky, lopsided smirk spreads across his face as he grins at your fucked out state, your hips rhythmically grinding on top of ron and your hands resting on his chest.

but poor ron is squirming and whimpering beneath you, too overstimulated to even speak properly, his hands desperately gripping the sheets with all his might, his knuckles turning white.

“i— i can’t! please! ‘s too much!”

“did i ask you anything? be thankful i’m getting you some pussy, idiota del cazzo. so fuckin’ ungrateful.” theo coldly snaps at ron, hissing through his teeth as his grip on your hair tightens unconsciously, his jaw clenched. suddenly realising what he’s doing when he hears your cry of pain, he quickly lets go, though still glaring daggers at ron. “and not just any pussy. the fucking best there is.”

theo turns his attention back to you, his stern expression and harsh tone both softening when he meets your glossy eyes. he then grips your tears-streaked face, thumb and index finger digging into your soft cheeks. “don’t mind him, piccola. keep going just like that. make yourself cum all over his pathetic cock.”

you nod obediently, too focused on chasing your release to even care about anything else as you feel ron’s cock twitching inside of you and his body restlessly wiggling under you, shiny tears forming in the corners of his shut eyes. “does that feel good, bella? is his cock making you feel good?” “mhm. feels— feels so good.” “…but?” “but never as good as yours, theo”

ੈ♡˳

[starseungs]

to love you like the snow melts. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — if seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring.

GENRE/S — fluff, maybe kinda emotional (or is that just me), slight college au mentioned in passing, he fell first trope • 1.1k words

WARNING/S — nothing really unless you're not into lovesick pining, story told in seungmin's pov, slightly unedited cz idk

( ✒️ ) happy seungmin day !! i think i dissociated while writing this fic cause man... i barely remember shit 😭 i originally had a plan going into writing this but it just got thrown out the window by my brain apparently (also this fic is inspired by one of the results in this quiz cause i loved the prompt i got so much) this fic is a bit short but i hope yall like it <3

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin’s eyes love to rest on you. 

That was an undoubtable fact in his life—one that he, himself, doesn’t even know how it started. Yet, the acknowledgement of this unknown didn’t bother him at all. If anything, it was a source of comfort for him; a way of reminding himself of the joy in living. To Seungmin, one thing was for certain: He was given the gift of sight to experience you in your entire beauty.

He first met you in a university lecture, where you simply happened to frequent the seat just a row behind and two chairs away from where he usually sat. Perhaps he was enamored from the very beginning. It was like his gaze would always find a way back to you whenever you were in his immediate vicinity, reminiscent of a magnet longing to cling to metal.

That was also the way he took in your presence as a whole. Seungmin was a man starved for knowledge, desperately clawing for anything he could get to broaden his desired expertise that was you. He particularly loved the way your eyes drooped whenever the lecture of the day bore you, as well as your tendency to make origami on available paper during the times you could care less to listen. The latter always ended up with you blinking endearingly after a successful craft, glancing around the people near you to figure out who to present it to.

Oh, how he wished he had been over there instead, happily receiving a paper star to keep. However, it was your friends that surrounded you on a daily, barely giving you time to be alone. And maybe you didn’t want to be alone—another thing about you that he’d like to discover the truth to. But he thought that until the day he somehow found himself stumbling into your life, he’d have to be grateful to your friends for making you shine the way you deserved every step of the way.

So, imagine his surprise when he finally got the chance to make a mark in the vast expanse of your world.

The opportunity came in the form of a group project with you; the catalyst in which his whole life began to change. Friendly introductions of obligation quickly turned into incessant strings of conversation, bringing the two of you closer. The sheer pace of the development was overwhelming. Seungmin never thought his presence bore enough weight for gravity to grab him by the neck and lock him in the system of the star that was you. 

It was a trip and a half, consisting of countless miles to lap around with seemingly no end. So much, that he feared falling out of your grace—to be like a passing asteroid who foolishly dreamt of becoming a planet. Seungmin was endlessly yearning to solidify his place in your world, just like he always wanted. And still, despite that all, he didn’t show it. He merely laughed when you laughed, stayed silent when you needed silence, and experienced anger on your behalf when you couldn’t show it for yourself. 

Because Kim Seungmin knew that you needed to be loved patiently.

Even throughout the tightrope of uncertainty he walked months on like his life depended on it, he never once made it seem like he was waiting on a move from you. If Seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring. 

Seungmin knew that even with the shows of your cheery demeanor, your heart still remained frosted over from your previous winters. That even when your fingers danced their way to intertwine with his, there was still that moment of hesitation. He was forever thankful that you caught him from falling when he did, refusing to let him disappear into the abyss. Yet, who was lighting up the skies of which you lay under to stare at each day?

He longed to give you a love that was true. One where he showed you how warmth creeped in with small trickles of heat, giving you enough time to decide whether you truly wanted it or not. Love that was considerate in the way that it willingly warned you of its presence, but in a way that cupped your cheeks and sang you lullabies. To love you gently as to not sully your shoes with messy, muddy soil of the ground peeking out from beneath the snow. 

To Seungmin, there was no greater gift than being able to be the sign of your spring.

“Baby?” You called out to him softly, a flash of concern twinkling behind your gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

Seungmin feels like he was just coaxed out of a trance, previously being too occupied studying the details of you at the moment, as if he hadn’t already spent the past hour doing just that. A string of golden celebration banners made its presence known in the corner of his eye, briefly acknowledging the once-a-year greeting printed on them. The slight smell of smoke fully brought him back to his senses, finally glancing down towards the cake with a small lit-up candle you were presenting him.

Right. It was his birthday today.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No,” he replies truthfully. “Everything is perfect.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, having trouble making sense of the situation. Seungmin has half a mind to think if you would forgive him if he tried to straighten it out with his thumbs as a tease.

“But, you’re not blowing out your candles,” you purse your lips in contemplation. He feels an unstoppable force creeping up to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. Did you even know just how much he loves you?

“I was just enjoying the view, that’s all.”

Your demeanor visibly brightens up. “Is the cake that pretty?” Was your smug question, clearly feeling proud of yourself. “I worked hard on that, you know?” 

Seungmin only smiles. Like he always does whenever it concerns you. That warm boyish grin he had paired with a certain fond look in his eyes that his friends never failed to point out just to fluster him into oblivion. But he lets them anyway. There was no way he could ever deny the truth of how strongly he felt for you.

“I know.” 

Because he always does. 

And as he leaned forward to feel the last heat of the flickering candle before it went out, he couldn’t help but think that the snow had finally melted. His wish had already come true.

“Happy birthday, Seungmin!”

Spring has come.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung @thecutiepieme @yaniiiiism

[breannasfluff]

Danny’s funds are becoming increasingly slim and cutting back on food would be his first course of action. Except now there’s DeeDee to feed. He heads back to the bulletin board.

There’s a new advert up, Weed Pulling. Gloves Provided. The first call gets a busy signal, but when he tries again someone picks up. 

“Hi, I’m calling about the weed-pulling ad?”

“Are you strong?” a female voice asks.

“Er…yes?” Danny could pull on his ghost strength if he wasn’t obvious about it . 

“Can you be at the warehouse district on 220 tomorrow at 1?”

Because this is Gotham, he asks, “AM or PM?”

“AM. The weeds are weakest in the dark.”

Well, that sounds… shady as shit, as DeeDee would say. Still, pulling weeds can’t be too bad. Even if it is at night. In the warehouse district. Actually, this sounds like a bad idea–

As if the lady can hear the doubts in his head she says, “I’ll pay you $100 an hour.”

“Done.” Danny might have standards, but they include eating. At worst, he’ll use his ghost powers to escape.

The lady on the phone didn’t specify which warehouse, but it’s abundantly clear when Danny arrives. Vines are growing rampant over one of the buildings. 

“Are you the weed puller? I’m Pam.”

Danny turns to greet the speaker. She’s got red hair, glasses, and a baseball hat on. “I’m Dan.” Then he turns back to the warehouse. “That wouldn’t be your weed problem, would it?”

Pam joins him with a sigh, pulling off her glasses to clean them. “That would be it. It got a little…out of control.”

He doesn’t even want to know what made it grow to this size. It’s a localized Undergrowth all over again. Speaking of which… “Does it regenerate when cut?”

Pam turns to stare at him for a long moment. Maybe that’s a strange question to ask, even for Gotham. But then she says, “Yes. It’s too big for me to handle when it keeps growing back.”

With his ice powers, Danny could freeze the branches or even the base. From there, it would be a matter of pulling the vines off the building. Neither of which were feasible in his current form. 

He grimaces at the building. “Are you sticking around?”

Another long look. “I don’t care how you remove it if that’s what you are asking.”

“It’s not.”

Pam sucks her tongue against her teeth, then shrugs. “I could take a break for some tea. The area is empty tonight.”

Danny nods, already running logistics on how much time he’d need while keeping his powers less flashy. He’s not in Amity Park to simply blow the plant sky-high and call it a day. “Come back in two hours?”

“That’s a long tea break.”

“That’s a big weed.”

Pam stares, but Danny doesn’t back down. Finally, she shrugs again and hands him a pair of gloves. “Have fun weeding.” Her heels click on the pavement as she walks away.

Who wears heels at 1 AM for weeding? Probably the same people with building-sized weeds. 

Read the rest here!

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute little way to end the night .. OR SO U THINK

one | two | three | four | five

authors note: 😋😋 dont be mad guys im writing the next part asap. if you arent already part of the tag list, let me know in the replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

(pretend he’s wearing the same clothes stop)

Liked by 14,082 others

dstarkeynews Drew and Y/N’s first appearance in a year on September 30th in Santa Barbara, California!

View comments

user1 i haven’t heard about them in forever

user2 ALMOST HAD HIM

user3 I thought they broke up 😭😭

↳ user4 i think they’re on and off

user5 I remember them from 2018 they’re so cute!

user6 tbh i’m happy for them !!

↳ user6 i’m crying .

user7 y’all don’t love them like i do

user8 i was really hoping they didn’t break up omg

user9 they thought they could keep it a secret 😒

user10 WERE THOSE FLOWERS FOR Y/N ????!?$:!:! OMGMGF 😭

Load more comments

you’re carrying a basket of groceries as you walk with leila through the area. there’s not much on your mind besides checking items off of leila’s list. and it feels nice not having to worry about anything because leila makes you feel normal, makes you and drew feel normal.

speaking of, drew’s just trailing behind you both, though he checks out a few things whenever he sees something he wants to try.

eventually he comes up from your left side and places something he’s bought into your basket, then takes it from you so he can hold your hand with his opposite hand. it feels so natural that you don’t even react, and even if you did acknowledge it, you don’t care.

“it’s so nice to just be out here like regular human beings,” you say, though you note that there’s always a few following behind you three but keep their distance to be a little respectful of your space.

you can hear them giggling every now and then or saying ‘hi’ to their videos that they capture you in, but you don’t think much of it. you think it’s adorable.

drew, however, is itching to get to the car and go home already. leila’s complained twice already that they haven’t completed her list but you’ve already bought everything important for tonight, so you just suggest you go home so both parties still benefit.

leila’s a stubborn one but she gives in when drew is pleading with his palms together. you laugh when she says she can’t stand seeing his “stupid fucking puppy dog eyes”.

when you’re done with your little mini-trip, you return to the car. leila is skipping over with two bags of things while you and drew walk together behind her, swinging your hands back and forth.

he opens your door for you and takes the basket from you so he can keep it in the backseat with leila who happily takes it, and you slide into the passenger’s seat without a thought.

“come on,” his voice pulls you out of the tiktok you’re watching, and you switch your phone off, leaving it on the bed as you drag a blanket with you.

drew’s heading downstairs and he dives right into the sofa, awaiting for everyone to come down already. you wrap the blanket around your body as you shuffle over, seating yourself by his legs.

he sits up instinctively and wraps his arms around you, the side of his head resting on your shoulder as you look around. only a few of you are there—you’re just missing gia and libby who, you guess, are getting the snacks and drinks. and you’re right.

“incoming everyone! don’t be alarmed,” libby says as she and gia make way with the food, and you’re in awe at the spread they’re providing.

“you have your homemade sandwiches—”

“that leila bought from the store,” libby is playing gia’s truth echo that makes you and the others laugh.

“assortment of chips!”

“that i got carried away with and ate half of!”

“can’t go wrong with your candies!”

“theo you owe me fifteen dollars!”

“what?”

“and lastly,” gia closes it out as libby runs back to the kitchen to bring over the tray of cups and drinks. you see oscar rub his hands together mischievously as leila practically drools at the sight. “our drinks!”

libby holds up a cup, “with your name on this complimentary glass that you get to take home after the trip.”

you woo as the glass cups get passed down, and you compare yours with drews while giggling about the free gift. you reach for one of the bottles and fill your glass with it, then take a sip.

“this is what you were working all day on while we were away?” leila asks the girls, extremely impressed by how much dedication they had to providing everyone snacks for her movie night. it essentially is just putting the items into cute bowls and calling it a day, but still. it made her heart warm.

you reach forward and grab a few of the candies and hand one to drew, hinting that you want to try it together. these were purchased by you because you were curious about the taste earlier while you were out.

“ready?” you ask him quickly as he already knows the drill, getting prepared to try it as you count it off. “one, two—” you lean your head back to let the multiple candies you have slide into your mouth while drew just pops his one into his mouth.

as you chew, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. they're really good, and he nods, a small ‘oh yeah’ escaping his lips as he sucks some of the chocolate off of his fingers. you reach over to grab the small bowl, then keep it for yourself without saying anything.

you and drew share a blanket so you’re able to hide the bowl on your lap while he reaches to fill his glass with a drink. oscar hits play on the first movie and you lean into drew’s side to watch the movie this way.

you fall asleep during the second movie, long story short. you can’t help it. but at least you last longer than leila, who fell asleep toward the end of the first one. she was the first one to fall asleep during her own movie night.

drew’s arm tightens around you for a moment, and he shifts to look down at you, finally noticing you’ve completely drifted off.

with a sigh, he decides to call it a night and he rises, sliding out from under you. you stir but don’t fully wake, instinctively curling into the empty spot left by his body.

he hesitates, but then scoops you up gently. you don’t wake up even a bit while your head rests against his chest and he carries you upstairs to the guest room.

the room is already dimly lit by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. he carefully lays you down on the bed, your body finding the most comfortable position as he covers you with the blanket. your breathing is steady as you fall deeper into sleep, and he stands there for a moment, watching you in the soft light, before he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing against your leg as he retrieves his phone from his back pocket.

for the first time all day, drew unlocks his phone, the screen lighting up with a shit ton of notifications. missed calls, texts, and a few unread emails flash across the screen, and he scrolls through them with a frown, trying to catch up.

as he gets back up to return to his side of the bed, he swipes through several messages, most of them from his close friends—some teasing, some concerned—before he pauses on one that makes his heart sink.

his eyes narrow, his thumb hovering over the text as his mind races. he was expecting a couple of messages, but not this. not this many. his phone buzzes again, a few more messages lighting up the screen, and he rubs a hand across his face, letting out a quiet, frustrated breath.

his gaze flickers to you again, making sure you’re still fast asleep. the last thing he wants is to wake you up with this, but he glances back down at his phone.

he presses the power button on his phone with a little more force than necessary, the screen going black, then he tosses the phone onto the nightstand with a dull thud. he quickly winces when the sound is a little louder than he expected.

his heart skips a beat when you stir, your eyes fluttering open just slightly, still half-asleep.

“star?” you mumble softly, the name slipping out instinctively.

drew freezes, his gaze immediately shifting to you as you shift under the covers. he forces a smile, leaning forward a little, his voice low and soothing. “sorry,” he murmurs. “just dropped my phone. go back to sleep, okay?”

you blink at him, your eyes barely open, but you manage a small nod, already too drowsy to fully process what’s going on. you can’t read that he’s just lied to you.

“mmf, okay…” you mumble, your body curling into the pillow as you drift back into sleep.

he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, watching as your breathing evens out again. for a moment, the tension in his chest eases, but only just. he leans back, letting his head rest against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before turning off the bedside lamp.

as the darkness settles around him, the weight of everything presses down harder, and he turns onto his side, facing you. the soft glow of moonlight still filters through the window, and you look so . . . peaceful.

he stays like that for a while, watching you sleep, his mind swirling with thoughts he can’t quiet.

but eventually, drew pulls the blanket up over his shoulder and closes his eyes, trying to shut out the noise in his head and go to sleep.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey

[jeonginslut]

what sex with them is like. . . ft. mark, chenle, & jisung of nct dream !

cw: nsfw (18+), minors dni, afab! reader, explicit sex, face fucking, switch!chenle, switch!reader

author's note: in honor of me missing dream >.< also dedicated to my very delusional best friends that i love

^ྀི MARK LEE

most of the time sex with mark is always sweet. he enjoys taking his time with you and making sure that YOU feel good. his pleasure isn’t something he’s too concerned about. when you feel good, he feels ecstatic. he would describe himself as a “man of pleasure”, and would never want you to even lift a finger to try to do anything to him.

he gets off on making you feel good, he loves that you’re a pillow princess.

however, every now and then, something in him will snap. he’d be so rough with you that bruises would appear on your skin the next day, his finger nails making indentations that he’ll always freshen up the next time.

pulling your hair, spanking you, biting you, pushing your head down on his dick, that’s the mark you really enjoy. of course his sweet demeanor in the bed room is always a delight, but when mark treats you like a slut, that’s what you really enjoy.

“fuck,” mark groaned, the grip on your hair tightening if that was even possible, “you’re like a bitch in heat.”

your eyes brimmed with tears from not only the tight grip, but also from the tip of his fat cock hitting the back of your throat. your hands wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach, eliciting groans from mark.

“fuck, i love you so much.” he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to fuck your mouth.

^ྀི ZHONG CHENLE

chenle, contrary to mark, makes you work for everything. you want him to touch you? okay, he’ll touch you. his fingers will brush your arm, he’ll rest his hand against your thigh, wrap an arm around your waist and stroke your hip bone gently. he knows that’s not what you wanted, but you didn’t specify what you wanted.

when you would have enough of his teasing, you’d ask him to “touch you properly”

“i’m not sure what you mean?” he would whisper, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “i am touching you.”

a pathetic whine escaped from your lips, grabbing his hand and pushing it to the heat between your legs, “dont make me beg for it lele.”

without second thought, he snatched his hand back and turned back towards the television. not that he could really pay attention, he just didn't have the patience for any bratty behavior. ever.

"why did you stop?" you whined again, pulling on his sleeve to get his attention even though you knew why he did.

chenle didn't reply, keeping his eyes focused on the movie even though he really didn't fucking care about what was on the screen. he was thinking about how pathetic you were about to turn in order to get his attention.

"lele," you whispered, kissing down his neck to get some sort of reaction out of him, but of course, you didn't.

you were getting a bit frustrated despite knowing chenle's game. he always did this so you should be used to it, but you weren't.

that means you would have to sink to a level that you knew he would absolutely enjoy seeing you succumbed to.

fine, if that meant you could get what you want. untangling yourself from his limbs and straddling his lap. you had a plan.

chenle rolled his eyes at you, leaning his head to the side so he could continue to watch the tv. he had to fight back a smile because he knew you were going to give in.

instead of pouting or whining like you normally would, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your forehead against his.

"i know what you want me to do," you said, forcing eye contact, "but i'm not going to do that tonight, chenle."

the victory he thought he had immediately faltered and he narrowed his eyes, "you aren't?"

you shook your head before kissing down his neck once more, slowly moving your hips down against the erection starting to grow underneath you, "i think you should let me take charge for once, hm?"

^ྀི PARK JISUNG

normally when it came to sex, you were in charge. jisung liked when you told him what to do, how to make you feel good, how to make himself feel good. he loved being told what to do in the bedroom.

jisung absolutely went insane when you would choke him, it always pushed him over the edge.

so it surprised you when jisung asked you if he could take charge in the bedroom for once. to tell you what to do, to tell you how to please him, to choke you. he wanted to see what it was like.

and who were you to say no to your sweet boy?

it was like a switch was flipped when the day finally came.

you were on top of jisung in the backseat of his car, pushing your hips down to meet his growing bugle and tongue down his throat.

his fingers were gripping your waist in a bruising manner, groaning when you begin kissing down his neck and sucking dark hickeys into his skin.

"fuck, y/n," he whined, bucking his hips up to get some sort of relief from his aching boner, "stop teasing."

giggling sweetly, you continued kissing down to his collarbones and biting, "i said stop teasing."

you scoffed against his skin, pulling away and looking down at him, "since when did you start telling me what to do?"

jisung's jaw was tense, but instead of saying anything back, he quickly flipped you over and wrapped his hand around your throat.

"stop talking," he spat, hiking one of your legs loosely over his hips, "my turn."

he used the hand wrapped around your throat to slip his fingers in between your lips, forcing you to open your mouth and suck his lithe digits in.

jisung's eyes were dark with lust, starting to grind against your core, "it's my turn to be in charge."

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where the reader is pregnant but in like the early stage and doesnt know she is pregnant yet, she is experiencing morning sickness AGAIN and katsuki takes care of her. she goes to take a test and is positive but doesnt know how to tell him

You wake up feeling that all-too-familiar nausea bubbling in your stomach again. For the past week, mornings had become your worst enemy. At first, you thought it was a bad batch of food or a stomach bug, but this was the fifth day in a row you had sprinted to the bathroom the moment you opened your eyes.

Slumping over the toilet, you groaned, head resting against the cool ceramic. Your body felt drained, and your stomach was still queasy.

"Oi, you in here?" Katsuki’s voice came from behind you.

You barely lifted your head as he walked into the bathroom. His eyes softened, concern immediately washing over his face.

"Again?" he muttered, kneeling down beside you. He gently pulled your hair back and rubbed slow circles on your back. “I thought you were over this crap. Been almost a week now.”

You nodded weakly. “I don’t know… maybe it’s something I ate? But nothing’s off… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He let out a grunt, not entirely convinced. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to freak out, but you could tell he didn’t like seeing you like this. His hands lingered on your back, trying to provide you some comfort.

"You think you should go see a doctor?" he asked, his voice lower now.

You shook your head. "I’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll pass today."

Katsuki was silent for a moment before helping you up. "Here, drink some water. Get yourself together. If this doesn’t stop, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor tomorrow." His tone was gruff but filled with genuine worry.

You chuckled softly, taking the glass of water from him. "Thanks, Katsuki. You’re sweet when you want to be."

He clicked his tongue. "Yeah, whatever."

As the morning went on, you felt slightly better, but something about it kept gnawing at you. The sudden sickness, the fatigue, the strange cravings you’d been having the past week. You weren’t one to jump to conclusions, but there was one thing that kept crossing your mind.

Could I be… pregnant?

The thought alone sent a jolt through your body. You and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been trying, but you hadn’t been overly cautious either.

You excused yourself and slipped out to the drugstore nearby, your heart racing as you picked up a pregnancy test. Back home, you took a deep breath, staring down at the little plastic device. Waiting for those couple of minutes felt like an eternity.

Then, there it was. Positive.

You stared at the result, blinking rapidly, trying to process it.

Pregnant. I’m… pregnant.

The excitement and fear clashed within you. Your mind raced, wondering how Katsuki would react. He wasn’t the most expressive person when it came to emotions, but you knew how much he loved you. Would he be ready for this? Were you ready for this?

You sat on the edge of the bed, holding the test in your hands, trying to think of how to tell him. You couldn’t just blurt it out. Your heart pounded as you imagined his reaction.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Katsuki stepped in, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Why the hell are you just sitting there like that?" he asked, crossing his arms. “You’re all weird today.”

You bit your lip, your hands trembling slightly as you hid the test behind your back. "Katsuki, I… I have something to tell you.”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What is it? You’re being all weird again. What the hell is going on?”

You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage you had. Slowly, you revealed the test, holding it out to him. His eyes flicked from you to the test, his face going from confusion to shock in a matter of seconds.

Katsuki stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "Wait… are you serious?" he asked, his voice much softer than usual.

You nodded, your own emotions threatening to overflow. “Yeah… I think I’m pregnant.”

He remained silent for a moment, just staring at the test as if he couldn’t believe it. Then, slowly, a smile began to form on his face—a real, genuine smile, the kind you didn’t get to see often. He knelt down in front of you, resting his forehead against your stomach gently.

"You’re pregnant," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "We’re gonna have a kid."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you placed your hands on his head. You nodded, your heart swelling with love and joy. "Yeah, we’re gonna have a kid."

For the first time, Katsuki’s tough exterior cracked, and you could see the pure happiness in his eyes. His hand rested on your stomach, and he looked up at you, his expression soft and full of emotion.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" he said, his voice low. "I’m gonna take care of you… both of you."

And just like that, you knew that everything was going to be okay. You were both in this together, and no matter what, Katsuki would be by your side, ready to face this new chapter with you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[writingrock]

before he leaves [1]

pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.

notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, established relationship (married), prohero husband, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable

Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough. 

“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing." 

Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.

It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”

“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration. 

“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”

You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.

He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”

You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.

“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Does he really have to go?

“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.

“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.

Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.

“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

“I love you too,” he replies.

You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.

“Text me updates!”

“I will!”

“And when you’re on the plane—”

“I know!”

“And call me when you get to the hotel!”

“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in. 

Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.

You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.

You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.

As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.

Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone. 

“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you. 

He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy. 

For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.” 

He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.

You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.

He knows his hero partner will yell at him.

But how could he resist his beautiful wife?

You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.

“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.

“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.

What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.

“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.

“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.

“He’s going to kill you.”

Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.

Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.

He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!” 

Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.

“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?” 

“Eijiro.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.

Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.

You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.

Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him. 

Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.” 

You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.

“Five more minutes.” 

Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.

But this is also the very late pro-hero.

“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.

The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.

“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.

You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.

He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.

He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”

Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.

Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”

His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.

Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”

Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.

“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.

You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.

Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.

“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before. 

“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”

It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie. 

You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.

As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.

His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”

He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.

You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.

Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.

Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back. 

a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

< prev // next >

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕩: short skirts and pretty omegas

Word count: 6301

Summary: In this chapter, Y/N, I.N, and Felix enter a busy food court filled with tempting aromas. They encounter Minho and Han, who are enjoying ice cream, leading to playful banter about Han's sweet treat. Minho urges Y/N to rest, while Felix eagerly asks for ice cream as well. As Y/N and Felix head to the ice cream shop, they are approached by a menacing alpha, causing Y/N to panic. She tries to protect Felix, but the alpha grips her wrist, escalating the tension. Just as things seem dangerous, I.N arrives and confronts the alpha, ready to defend Y/N and Felix. The chapter ends with a glimpse of Felix later, seeking comfort from Chan after a nightmare about the alpha, finding solace in Chan’s protective embrace.

Warning: Angst/comfort, cursing, physical fight, bruises, assault, mini skirts.

As I.N, Felix, and Y/N entered the food court, the rich scents of fried food and sweet treats enveloped them, making Y/n's stomach grumble. They navigated through the sea of tables and chattering people, their eyes darting from one group to another until they finally paused, spotting Minho and a surprisingly quiet Han.

"You two look comfortable," I.N snickered, a playful glint in his eyes as he gestured toward the pair, who were indulging in ice cream with unabashed delight. “I thought it was no sugar for the omegas before dinner?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he observed Lee Know, who looked utterly exasperated.

“He wouldn’t stop complaining, and this was the only thing that would shut him up,” Lee Know huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Han, who was blissfully licking his ice cream, his head resting on Lee Know’s shoulder.

“Hey, be nice! I’m sensitive!” Han whined, playfully pushing away before crossing his arms in mock indignation. “I’m mad at you now,”

“Oh, baby, please don’t be,” Lee Know fake-begged, stifling a laugh as he rolled his eyes dramatically. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He leaned in, his voice low and soothing, coaxing Han back into his good graces. Han pouted for a moment but soon melted, returning to his ice cream with a soft smile as Lee Know pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, wrapping an arm around him protectively.

“Y/nnie, sit down and rest,” Leeknow instructed gently, patting the spot next to him. “I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“I’m okay, oppa! I don’t feel tired, really,” she assured him, though she couldn’t help but take a seat beside him to ease his worries.

“Would you all like something to drink? I think it would be good,” he said, quickly reaching into the grocery bag and pulling out water bottles. He passed them around, his eyes warm with care.

Y/n accepted hers with a soft smile, whispering a grateful “thank you” before taking slow sips, savoring the coolness.

“Hyung, I want ice cream too!” Felix whined from his spot next to I.N in the booth, his eyes wide with longing as he pointed at the treats.

“Then go get some, hun. Put it on my card,” Lee Know encouraged, his tone light but firm. “And get some for Y/N too, but not too much! We bought dinner, and I don’t want you guys filling up on sugar.”

Felix nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on his seat before jumping up to head toward the counter. “Do you want one too, Innie?” he asked, glancing back at I.N, who was intently focused on his phone, thumbs flying over the screen.

“No, you two go ahead. I need to talk to Changbin-hyung; he wants me to pick up something,” I.N replied, his voice absentminded as he continued typing, the weight of responsibility momentarily pulling him away from the playful banter.

Y/N watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Felix shrugged his shoulder and intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, a playful smile lighting up his face. She felt a rush of warmth as she blushed, quickly setting down the bags she had been holding to follow him toward the ice cream shop.

“We’ll be back!” Felix called over his shoulder, his voice bubbling with excitement as he led Y/N just a few shops down, well within Lee Know’s line of sight.

"Be safe and don't wonder away!" they heard Leeknow call out behind them.

The ice cream shop was charming, adorned with whimsical decorations and slogans that were adorably cheesy. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle as she read some of them. Felix turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “What ice cream would you like, my love?”

Her cheeks flushed at the endearment. “Hmm,” she murmured, scanning the vibrant array of flavors displayed before her. “I haven’t had ice cream in so long, oppa. Can you help me pick?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, a mix of excitement and shyness overwhelming her.

“Of course!” Felix beamed, his enthusiasm infectious. “I love chocolate and vanilla! Oh, and chocolate chips—those are the best!” He continued to share his favorites, his eyes alight with passion as he described each flavor, making Y/N smile with his delight.

As they waited in line, she shifted her focus, taking in their surroundings. The cheerful atmosphere was suddenly pierced by a wave of unease when she noticed a tall figure approaching them. Her stomach dropped as she recognized the confident stride and the aura that marked him as an alpha.

They weren’t thoroughly scented by I.N or the other alphas or betas, which made it seem like they were unclaimed omegas. Y/n appeared to fit that description perfectly—no bite marks to signify a bond—while Felix’s scent spoke volumes of his connection. If the scent ventilators were turned off, anyone nearby would unmistakably sense that Felix was a very much taken omega, his fragrance rich and layered with the unmistakable warmth of the members of the pack but right now they looked and smelled like unclaimed omegas.

“Felix,” she whispered urgently, tugging on his shirt, her heart racing. “Felix, look at the guy—”

Before she could finish her sentence, the tall male stepped into their space, too close for comfort. Felix remained oblivious, engrossed in his conversation with the cashier. Y/N cursed under her breath, anxiety knotting in her stomach.

The alpha’s eyes gleamed a light shade, and she felt a chill run down her spine when she noticed the flash of red in his gaze. “This is bad,” she thought, her instincts screaming at her. She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, acutely aware of the danger lurking just inches away from Felix. Why did he have to be so close and why was he trying to peep under Felix's skirt? 

“Can you take a step back?” Y/N asked, her voice steady but her heart racing as she positioned herself in front of Felix, who was precariously balancing on his tiptoes in his short skirt.

“Oh, am I bothering you two?” The alpha’s voice was smooth but laced with menace. Y/N cringed, the overpowering scent of stale alcohol and cigarettes making her stomach churn.

“You smell bad,” she blurted, her cheeks flushing as she tried to push him away. But he tightened his grip on her wrist, and panic surged through her.

"You don’t just touch alphas, you know," he said with a growled leaning in slightly. "Did your pack alpha forget to mention that? Or are you just a curious omega?"

He licked his lips, his gaze sweeping over her body with a mischievous sparkle. Around them, the crowd was absorbed in their own conversations, laughter and chatter filling the air, Her body shook as she tried to cover herself.

“Let go,” she squeaked, trying to wriggle free. Felix’s eyes widened as he turned, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Felix growled, stepping protectively closer. 

Meanwhile, I.N had just returned from picking up the protein powder that Changbin wanted from the gym store and he had realised the omegas weren't back. How long does it take to get Ice cream? He wondered.

“Are they back yet?” he asked Leeknow, who was scrolling through his phone.

“Nope, not yet,” Leeknow replied, glancing up and eyeing the package I.N was carrying. “What flavor did you get?”

“He wanted strawberry, but they were out, so I—” I.N suddenly paused, a frown creasing his brow as an uneasy feeling bubbled in his stomach.

Leeknow who was putting back his mask on, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion wondering why he had stopped talking so suddenly. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, but before he could get a response, he felt a wave of worry wash over him as-well. The tension in the air grew as Han whimpered softly, tugging at Leeknow's sweater.

“Hyung… " his eyes flashed gold before he frowned, "hyung, Felix is in trouble,” Han said, his voice trembling. Leeknow exchanged a concerned glance with I.N, who was already grabbing his jacket.

I.N! There’s an alpha trying— Felix voice started, but I.N had already jumped out of his seat, his heart racing. He could feel Felix’s fear echoing through their bond.

I’m coming! he replied back, determination flooding through him. Stay calm, Felix! Just make sure he doesn't try and bite you or Y/n.

Dashing down the food court, I.N shoved past people, his senses heightened. When he finally reached the store, he spotted Felix’s blonde hair in the crowd. Without thinking, he lunged forward, his protective instincts taking over. He landed a punch on the alpha confronting Felix and Y/N, but in the chaos, he felt himself slipping into a darker place.

As he turned back, I.N noticed Felix and Y/N stepping back, visibly shaken. “Are you guys okay?” he asked, his expression softening at the sight of them trembling. Felix nodded, pulling Y/N into a comforting embrace.

“I’ve got you,” I.N reassured them, standing firm as he faced the fallen alpha, ready to protect his omegas no matter what.

The alpha was on the floor, clutching his face in shock and pain.

“What the hell?” I.N thundered, his voice reverberating through the shop. “You don’t just touch people like that! Have you lost your mind?! You reek of alcohol and cigarettes!”

As I.N moved forward, rage radiating off him, Lee Know quickly stepped in front of him. “Calm down, Innie, it’s okay—”

“No, hyung, let me at him!” I.N huffed, his eyes blazing. The tension in the air felt electric, a palpable mix of fear and protectiveness swirling around them. Y/N felt a rush of gratitude and fear, knowing Felix was right beside her, ready to face the threat together.

Felix and Y/N stood behind Han, who was firmly planted behind Lee Know, a protective barrier in the chaos.

“I’m going to ruin him, I swear to God! Who does he think he is? Wait till Chan hears about this! He’s going to rip—”

“I.N, we're in public and you're an idol. Calm down.” Lee Know growled, but the younger boy was fully in 'alpha mode,' his fury palpable.

“Are you okay, Y/Nnie?” Felix’s voice was urgent, his hands checking her arms for bruises. “This is my fault; I should have paid more attention. I’m so sorry—”

“Felix, stop. It’s okay,” she assured him, feeling his panic radiate through the air. “You didn’t know, and I’m fine.” She tried to calm him, though deep down, she felt a flicker of concern. She was used to unwanted attention from alphas, a reality that often left her unfazed. But seeing Felix and Han so shaken brought a pang to her heart.

“Hey, you two, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, I promise,” she said softly, enveloping them in a comforting aura. It was like they were in their own bubble, isolated from the chaos around them. Han instinctively scented her, clinging to her side, while Felix let a few tears slip down his cheeks, seeking solace against her.

“Y/N and Felix, come here,” Leeknow called gently, his voice soothing despite the tension in the air. He had just managed to guide I.N away to calm down, but his heart raced at the thought of what had just happened. “Are you both okay?” He looked at them with concern, trying to gauge their state. He knew he had to keep his composure to prevent the younger ones from spiraling into panic. “What happened?”

“I’m fine, oppa, just a bit shaken up,” Y/N replied, though her voice quivered slightly. “He didn’t bite me or Felix, but he came out of nowhere. I was just trying to protect Felix—he was trying to touch him under his skirt.” The memory sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of sadness wash over her. The thought of Felix, so innocent and vulnerable, made her heart ache. She couldn’t shake the fear that he would be scarred by this encounter, just as she was.

“Hey, look at me,” Leeknow said softly, stepping closer and pulling her into a warm hug. He gently checked her arms and shoulders for any new bruises, his heart racing at the thought of her being hurt. “You were incredibly brave standing up to him. I know how terrified you are of alphas, but you put that aside for Felix.” His praise was heartfelt, and he could feel her tense muscles relax a little as she took comfort in his words.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, accepting the embrace and squeezing him gently. The warmth of his presence helped ease her fears, and she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Thank you, oppa,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Are you okay, Lix?” Leeknow asked, glancing at Felix, who was curled up against Han. Felix’s face was streaked with tears, his usually bright expression dimmed by the recent scare. Leeknow’s heart sank at the sight. He felt an overwhelming protectiveness swell within him, coupled with anger toward the unknown alpha who had dared to harm his pack.

Felix looked up, his big eyes filled with uncertainty. “I-I’m just really scared,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I thought something bad was going to happen.”

Han tightened his hold around Felix, offering silent support as he glared at the ground, his own emotions boiling beneath the surface. Leeknow could sense Han's frustration, and it mirrored his own feelings of anger and helplessness.

“Hey, it’s okay to feel scared,” Leeknow reassured Felix, kneeling down to be eye-level with him. “You’re safe now.” He offered a warm smile, hoping to ease Felix’s worries. “I promise we won’t let anything happen to you.”

Felix nodded slowly, his expression softening a bit as he absorbed Leeknow’s words. Y/N, feeling the weight of the moment, reached out and took Felix’s hand, squeezing it gently. 

“Come on, guys, I’ll grab your ice cream,” Lee Know announced, trying to lighten the mood as they watched security lead the alpha away. Y/N's gaze darted outside, where she spotted I.N pacing anxiously, his knuckles bruised and raw. A wave of relief washed over her.

“Innie, are you okay?” she called out, gasping at the sight of his injuries.

“I’m fine, love. Are you okay?” His voice was thick with concern, his eyes searching hers. “That scared the shit out of me. I’m so sorry I let my guard down—”

Before he could finish, Y/N leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being my hero, Innie. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

His expression softened, the tension easing as he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“I’m going to need some time to calm down, or my alpha is going to make me literally run and find that guy. What was he thinking? Ugh! I should have scented both of you. You can’t even be safe ten feet away from us,” I.N vented, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I-if it helps, you do look hot right now… you know, being all protective and stuff,” Y/N said quietly, immediately regretting it as she buried her face in his chest.

“Yeah?” He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips as he nudged her chin up gently. “You like it when I go all crazy alpha over you,” he teased, and she squeaked, playfully slapping his chest.

“Stop teasing!” she muffled into his shirt, feeling her cheeks burn.

I.N chuckled, holding her close as they waited for Minho and the rest of the omegas to come out of the shop. Though his mind was still racing, his heartbeat began to slow. He could sense the rest of the pack trying to reach out through their bond, but he shut them down, not wanting to dwell on the situation.

“Let’s go. The boys keep spamming my phone, asking why they can feel fear and anger in the bond,” Minho sighed, juggling the bags in his arms.

“Fuck, I’ll text the group on the way. Are they home?” I.N asked, stepping in to help with the bags.

“Yeah, they got home a few minutes ago.” Minho turned to Han, Felix, and Y/N. “You three walk in front of us, please.”

As they made their way back to the car, Minho turned to I.N. “You did good today, pup. I’m proud of the alpha you’re becoming.” He leaned in to plant a quick peck on I.N’s lips, who blushed furiously. “First at the doctor’s, now here? I’m so telling Hyung to give you a treat later.”

“Thank you, hyung. I appreciate you having my back in there. I think I would have—”

“No negative thoughts,” Minho interjected firmly. “Let’s just get home and relax. My feet and head are killing me.”

“I can give you head,” I.N smirked, earning a playful smack on the back of his head from Minho.

“Not that kind of head, you little rascal!” Minho laughed, shaking his head as they settled into the car.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Once they arrived home, the group tumbled out of the car, each grabbing bags and laughing as they made their way inside. I.N and Minho exchanged playful glances and headed back for the second and third rounds, panting a bit as they watched the omegas stroll into the house with carefree smiles.

“Sometimes I wish I was an omega,” I.N joked, chuckling to himself. “Just chilling while alphas and betas take care of me 24/7.” He locked the main door with a grin, then headed to the kitchen to set up the table for dinner, the aroma of home-cooked food already wafting through the air.

In the studio, Chan heard the front door open, and he instinctively glanced at his phone, a wave of relief washing over him when he saw it was the rest of the pack returning through the cameras. His stomach had been tied in knots ever since Leeknow called about the earlier incident; however, after chatting with Felix and receiving a reassuring text from I.N, his worries began to dissipate.

With a determined huff, he saved his work, mentally shifting gears as he made his way to the main living room. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter welcomed him as he entered, where most of the boys were sprawled out, enjoying the moment of downtime. “Hey, where’s Y/N, Felix, and Han?” he called out, spotting Changbin deeply engrossed in his phone, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Changbin looked up, momentarily distracted. “They’re getting ready for dinner, I think. Y/N mentioned something about wanting to unwind after shopping,” he replied, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

Chan knew that bringing up the earlier situation could dampen the mood, especially since everyone was clearly exhausted. He had made it a point to tell the others beforehand to hold off on discussing the incident until after dinner. He could still picture the moment he had to convince Changbin not to rush to the mall in a panic—Changbin's protective instincts had kicked in, and it had taken some calming words to reassure him that they would address it later.

“Got it!” Chan nodded, his eyes sparkling as he spotted Leeknow in the kitchen. “Hey, baby!” he called, wrapping his arms around the beta from behind.

“Ugh, you smell like horny alpha,” Leeknow teased, leaning back for a quick kiss before returning to his task.

“You know you love it,” Chan shot back, grinning as he caught Leeknow rolling his eyes playfully.

“im not your sex toy—”

“You sure?! Don't you remember last night when everyone was asleep?” Chan interrupted, dramatically moaning and mocking him. “Oh Chan, right there! Hyung, don’t do that, I’m going to cu—”

Leeknow gasped, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as he threw a dishcloth at Chan. “Hyung! Seriously!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave!” Chan laughed, enjoying the lighthearted banter. Minho chimed in, shaking his head with an amused smile. 

"Hyung! you cant do that!" Minho growled, "get out my kitchen," he shoos chan who is chuckling histerically at the flustered beta. His scent spiking to a certain sweetness..

“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” Chan said with a mock pout. “Where’s I.N? I need to talk to him.” He made his way toward the stairs.

“He’s in his room showering!” Leeknow called from the kitchen.

“Thanks!” Chan replied, quickly jogging up the stairs. He navigated the familiar corridors before knocking on I.N's door. When there was no response, he opened it without hesitation.

“Innie?” he called out, stepping inside.

“Yeah! Just a sec, Hyung! I’m drying my hair!” I.N’s voice floated from the bathroom. Chan nodded, settling onto the bed and idly playing with his fingers as he waited. Moments later, I.N emerged, wearing pajama pants and one of Changbin’s hoodies, his hair still damp and tousled.

“You okay, love?” Chan asked, concern softening his voice.

I.N crawled onto the bed, resting his head on Chan’s chest. “Tired,” he murmured, a sigh escaping his lips.

“You don’t have to worry about me, babe. I handled the situation,” I.N insisted, meeting Chan’s gaze.

“I know, and I’m proud of you,” Chan replied, brushing his fingers through I.N’s hair. “But I can’t help but worry. You completely shut down your side of the bond when your alpha was angry. That’s scary. What if it happens again and you’re alone? God forbid we can’t reach you through your phone, and your bond is shut off.”

I.N frowned, understanding the gravity of Chan’s words. “I know, but it’s like he just doesn’t want to deal with anyone, and he forces me to shut down. I’ve tried to connect with him and to get on the same page, but it feels like... I just black out.”

“Maybe we can try the specialist EunYoung-hyung suggested last time this happened with staff,” Chan said thoughtfully, knowing this wasn’t the first time I.N had blacked out completely. “It might become a problem if we don’t deal with it now, especially with the tour around the corner.”

I.N huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He wasn’t mad at Chan—he was mad at himself for not being able to control his instincts. If he had hurt that alpha earlier, he could have been all over the news, and they might have stripped him of his K-pop career. Thank goodness they had masks on today; it could have been so much worse.

“Maybe you’re right, Hyung,” I.N finally admitted, his expression turning into a pout as he thought it over. What if one day he got so angry that—

“Hey, no need to be upset,” Chan said gently, brushing his fingers through I.N’s hair. “I told you when you first presented as an alpha it would be hard to control your instincts. But you did such a great job today, baby boy. I’m so proud of you; I just don’t want you to get hurt, alright?” He pressed a soft kiss to I.N’s forehead.

“I love you,” I.N mumbled, his doe eyes wide and earnest.

“I love you too. I’ll book an appointment with the specialist, and we’ll go from there.” Chan’s heart lightened as he smiled at I.N, feeling the warmth of the younger alpha scenting him. What would he do without his boys—and his girl?

“How was your day? Did you guys finish the track list?” I.N asked, shifting to rest his head on Chan’s shoulder.

“Yes, but we had to literally fight with Seungmin to get him to record. He was being bratty and annoying,” Chan huffed. “He’s really struggling with this new addition to the pack. I just hope he gets over himself soon. Hyunjin was actually fine; he even asked if he could talk to Y/n to apologize,” Chan added, slightly impressed.

“Yeah, after the talk he had with Leeknow,” I.N chimed in.

“He had a talk with Leeknow?” Chan asked, surprised.

“What, you think I can’t play therapist for the pack?” Leeknow popped up from nowhere, startling both alphas. He leaned against the door frame, smirking.

“Seriously, what is it with people sneaking into conversations in this house?!” Chan yelled, throwing a pillow at Leeknow.

“Woah there, Pack Alpha! I’m just an innocent beta,” Leeknow gasped for air, feigning innocence while giggling.

“Sure you are,” I.N said, rolling his eyes as Chan shot Leeknow a playful glare. It felt good to laugh, the weight of the day slowly lifting as they settled back into their comforting routine.

“Will you two stop being disgusting and come for dinner?” Leeknow huffed, not bothering to wait for a response. He marched straight to the omegas' room, knocking softly before pushing the door open. The sight before him made him pause: Y/n, Han and Felix were cuddled up on the bed, surrounded by a mountain of untouched bags. The room smelled sweet and fresh, an inviting aroma that made him smile despite his irritation.

“Are you guys done washing up?” he asked, carefully navigating through the clutter.

“Yeah, Hyung. We were about to come down, but Y/nnie has to apply her medication first,” Felix replied, sitting up and reaching for a bag filled with pills and creams.

“She should do that after dinner. I’ll do it for her,” Leeknow insisted, his voice firm yet gentle.

“Yeah, you’re right, Hyung. You’re the professional,” Felix conceded after a brief debate.

“Right, come on then, guys. Let’s go eat.” Leeknow tugged Han out of the room, who was practically asleep on his feet.

“Hyung!” Han whimpered, clearly annoyed at being disturbed. “I wanna sleep,” he protested, only to climb onto Leeknow as if he were a tree.

“Yes, you’ll sleep after dinner, bubba. I know you’re irritated today, but you have to put something in that belly,” Leeknow reassured him.

“Mmph,” Han grumbled in response as they set him down on the couch. He voluntarily crawled into Changbin’s lap, occasionally glancing at his phone and giggling at the funny memes Changbin found.

One by one, the other members piled into the room. Felix tackled Chan to the floor, showering him with a thousand kisses, earning a chorus of playful “Ew, get a room!” from Hyunjin. Laughter filled the space as they all began to dig into the takeout food they had bought earlier.

Y/n settled beside Minho, joining the conversation only when prompted by questions. She didn’t want to irritate Hyunjin or Seungmin, so she opted for silence, which slightly worried the other six members of the pack. They exchanged concerned glances, their usual banter overshadowed by Y/n's quiet demeanor.

“Did you enjoy shopping, Y/nnie?” Chan asked, trying to pull her into the conversation after Felix had gone on an enthusiastic ten-minute rant about all their amazing finds.

“Yes, Oppa, thank you so much,” she replied kindly, returning to her food.

“You better have, with how many times the bank called me asking if my card was stolen because someone was buying a ‘Mickey Mouse thong’…” Changbin playfully grumbled, and the room erupted in laughter. Y/n buried her face behind Leeknow’s shoulder, mortified.

“Felix, I told you it was silly!” she exclaimed, shooting him a glare.

“I picked that one out for her, Hyung! It’s so sexy,” Felix giggled, and Y/n felt her stomach twist in embarrassment. She had no idea Changbin and Chan had been tracking their purchases.

“I didn’t know you could see the purchases! Now I feel stupid,” she grumbled, her ears flushing red.

“We don’t track purchases, but if my card is being drained by almost $4,000, the bank has to check for theft,” Chan chuckled, ruffling her hair before heading to the kitchen for water.

“Oh, Hyung, wait till you see the buttplug we got her!” Han squealed.

“What?!” they all yelled, including Y/n, who immediately threw a pillow at him.

“You got me a butt plug?!” she shrieked in horror.

“Yes, and a silicon—”

“Felix, not helping!” she yelled, covering her face in total embarrassment. Felix giggled again, crawling into her lap and playfully licking her cheek, making her laugh despite her mortification.

“When did you even get a chance to buy that? We were together the whole day!” Y/n groaned, her cheeks flushing.

“I was just kidding! I wanted to see your reactions,” Felix said, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at the flustered alphas. “You guys are hilarious!”

“I wouldn’t complain if you did have one,” Changbin smirked as Leeknow was stretching out comfortably on the couch, his hand casually resting behind Y/n’s back.

“Of course you wouldn’t, you man-whore!” Han shot back playfully, hopping off Changbin’s lap with a laugh.

“Hey! I was ready to treat you to a dick down today, but I guess that’s off the table now,” Changbin teased, grinning at Han.

“Hyung!” Han exclaimed, bursting into giggles as he covered his face and dashed into the kitchen, hiding behind a chuckling Chan.

“Alright, let’s change the topic before we get too silly!” Chan chuckled, looking around at the happy faces. The room was filled with warm,happy scents, and even Seungmin and Hyunjin, who were watching from the sidelines, seemed to be in good entertained.

Despite the light atmosphere, Chan felt a twinge of concern for Y/n’s health. He made a mental note to check in with her later. She really shouldn’t be carrying heavy things, and with Felix snuggled in her lap, he felt a bit anxious. But for now, they were all together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company, and that was what mattered most.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

“Y/N, come here,” Leeknow called gently, his voice cutting through the soft sounds of the living room. It was 10:15 PM, and most of the guys were scattered throughout the house—some in the gaming room, others in the studio or the theater, engrossed in their own worlds. Meanwhile, Y/N and Changbin were comfortably nestled on the couch, sharing laughter and watching YouTube videos together when Leeknow interrupted their cozy moment, a bag in hand.

Y/N pouted, her expression a mix of reluctance and playfulness, but she knew better than to ignore him. With a small sigh, she crawled over to him, settling on her knees and facing him, her curiosity piqued despite her initial resistance.

“I know you don’t want to, but you have too,” Leeknow chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye as he recognized her attempts to wiggle out of it. He extended the water bottle and pills toward her, snapping on a pair of gloves with a practiced ease that made her heart flutter with a mix of anxiety and trust.

Seeing the situation unfold, Changbin quickly stepped in, eager to distract her from the impending discomfort. “So, how many siblings do you have?” he asked, hoping to draw her attention away from the task at hand.

“I have four siblings,” Y/N began, her voice lightening as she shared about her family. “Three boys and one girl. Two of my brothers are alphas, while one is an omega.” A soft smile spread across her face as she reminisced about her youngest brother, Yunji. “He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but we get along really well since we bond over being the omegas in the family.”

“Then my sister is an alpha and—” Y/N was suddenly cut off by a sharp wince as Leeknow’s fingers began to gently stroke her gland with cream. She instinctively tried to pull away, only to find herself wedged between Leeknow's legs, trapped yet secure.

“Oppa! It hurts,” she cried out, a whimper escaping her lips as Leeknow applied more pressure, his fingers delving deeper.

“I know, sweetie, but it’s going to make you feel better, I promise,” he cooed softly, his tone soothing as he continued his work, focused on helping her.

Changbin winced, cringing at the sight. “Oof, that looks painful,” he remarked, unable to hide his discomfort, which earned him a sharp glare from Y/N.

“You think?” she shot back, her voice laced with mock indignation before a sudden yelp erupted from her when Leeknow found a particularly sensitive spot. She instinctively swatted at him, half-heartedly hitting his arm while trying to suppress a laugh through her frustration.

“Okay, okay, I’m done. Pass me your hands,” Leeknow sighed in relief, shifting positions to access the glands on her hands. His movements were gentle but purposeful, determined to provide the care she needed.

Just then, Chan appeared from downstairs, his headphones resting around his neck and a beanie pulled low over his hair. “I heard screaming, what’s going on?” he asked, concern etched on his face as he scanned the room.

“She’s getting her medicine, and it hurts,” Changbin explained, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him, a mixture of worry and empathy in his gaze.

Chan walked over, his eyes narrowing as he examined Y/N’s neck glands, his expression shifting from curiosity to alarm. “Oh babe, that looks horrible,” he winced, taking in her pained expression and the tear stains on her cheeks.

Leeknow glanced at her, a twinge of guilt settling in his stomach. “I feel bad, but there’s nothing I can do right now,” he admitted, his voice softening. “We’re almost done, I promise.” He offered her a reassuring smile, even as he continued his work.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally stopped, carefully removing his gloves and inspecting the red spots on her skin. “You’re okay, baby. Don’t worry,” he soothed, but Y/N whimpered again, feeling overwhelmed by the discomfort.

In a rush of instinct, she crawled into Chan’s lap, seeking comfort. As he wrapped his arms around her, he released a wave of powerful pheromones, enveloping her in a warmth that almost made her feel weightless.

“Alpha so soft, so cuddly,” she purred into Chan’s chest, sinking deeper into his embrace. His presence was grounding, a sanctuary amid the chaos, and he held her tightly, ready to shield her from any lingering discomfort.

Chan’s heart swelled as he cradled her, whispering sweet reassurances while the world around them faded away.

“Leeknow, did you see her bruises?” Chan asked, his voice laced with concern. “Yuna mentioned that she needs plenty of rest and calcium-rich foods to regain her strength and heal some of the minor fractures. Apparently, her powers might help speed up the healing process, but still…”

“I’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest after everything that’s happened,” Leeknow reassured him, his brow furrowing. “Honestly, I think she’s going to pass out for two days straight. She’s been so overwhelmed with all these changes. I just don’t want her to go into a subdrop because it’s all too much for her to handle.”

Changbin chimed in, “I’ll ask my mom to come watch her while we go to practice tomorrow. She doesn’t have any plans, and with all the rehearsals we have lined up for the show in France, we might be working late.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face.

“Alright, then,” Chan replied, sighing. “I’ll also need to talk to Manager Jin about her flight details and everything else. There’s just so much to juggle right now, especially with the new addition to our pack. I’m not complaining, really, but it’s a lot. I have to balance my responsibilities with the company and my role as pack leader, and honestly, the pack will always come first. But the company demands so much of my time.”

Leeknow glanced over at Y/N, who was peacefully sleeping on the couch, a gentle rise and fall of her chest the only indication of her presence. “Are we going to announce her to the public?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

Chan shook his head firmly. “No, I don’t want to expose her to that just yet. Maybe when we’re on tour or once things settle down a bit. There are just too many risks involved if we’re not with her 24/7. She deserves to feel safe and secure, especially now.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each member of the pack lost in their thoughts about Y/N’s well-being. They all knew how important it was to protect their own, and as Chan looked at the peaceful figure before them, he felt a renewed sense of determination. They would do whatever it took to ensure her safety and happiness, no matter the challenges ahead.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

After a very long conversation Chan had with the omegas about what had happened at the mall, everyone went to sleep except one omega who kept on tossing and turning;

“Channie…” Chan was deep in sleep, comfortably cuddling with Seungmin when he heard the soft, trembling voice. He blinked awake to see Felix standing by the edge of the bed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and a scent of distress lingering in the air.

“Channie-hyung, please wake up,” Felix sobbed quietly, shaking him gently, his small frame quivering with anxiety.

“Hmm?” Chan groaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes and scanning the dimly lit room. “Felix? Baby, what’s wrong?” He shot up, careful not to disturb the sleeping beta beside him.

“Nightmare,” Felix whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N is in a deep sleep, and Han is with Hyunjin, and I don’t know what to do. It’s scary…” His small whimpers broke Chan’s heart, and he instinctively reached out.

“Hey, just breathe for me, okay? Come here,” Chan urged, worried about the panic that might bubble up. Felix wiped his tears and crawled into Chan’s lap, where the alpha quickly wrapped his arms around his tiny waist, drawing him close.

“I’m so sorry, baby. What was the nightmare about?” Chan asked gently, pressing a kiss to Felix’s forehead, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

“T-the alpha we saw today,” Felix whispered, nuzzling into Chan’s neck, inhaling his comforting scent to calm his racing heart.

“Oh, baby, you were scared, weren’t you?” Chan cooed softly, his heart aching for the younger omega. “I’m so sorry, love. You’re safe now. I’m right here, and I won’t let anyone touch you, okay? None of us will,” he promised, his hand rubbing gentle circles on Felix's thigh, soothing him.

After a moment of silence, Chan asked, “Do you want to sleep with me for the rest of the night?” He noticed Felix’s sobs had quieted to soft sniffles, and his scent shifted from the sharp anxiety of burnt brownies to the comforting aroma of freshly baked cookies mixed with sweet caramel.

“Yes, please,” Felix hummed, a hint of relief in his voice.

“Alright then, close your eyes. We have a lot to do tomorrow, but I’ll be right here when you wake up,” Chan replied, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Felix’s forehead. He held him tightly until Felix’s breathing evened out, and he fell asleep nestled against Chan’s warmth.

Once he was sure Felix was peacefully asleep, Chan let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of protectiveness and love wash over him. He reached out, gently holding Seungmin’s waist with his other, before drifting off himself.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

Okay! Okay! You caught me *sigh* i haven't really included Hyunjin and seungmin but don't worry i'm going to get there eventually. I promise >_<

Taglist: @ihrtlix @bowsnbang @katsukis1wife @thegingerthatwaited @thicccurls @xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace @galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic @cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz (open: i believe i've added everyone but if you don't see your @ please comment down below)

[hoshifighting]

heyy there!!

I was wondering if you could write a fiction where the svt members give a silent treatment to the reader but she is too sensitive and starts crying (because she thinks she doesn't deserve them)

Please feel free to reject it if ur uncomfortable 😚😚

seventeen reaction when you start to cry when they give you a silent treatment

a/n: guyyyys im the worst with angst, but i tried!! 🙏

seungcheol the second you start shaking, he’s up on his feet, crossing the room and pulling you into a tight, crushing hug. he’s warm, solid, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “my fault, my fault, my fault,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “i should’ve been better. i should’ve stopped this. i didn’t mean to hurt you. god, i didn’t mean it.”

jeonghan’s regretting it the whole time. too good at keeping his distance, until he sees the tears running down your cheeks. then, he freezes “hey, hey…” he pulls you into his arms, wiping your tears away with his thumb. “shit, i’m sorry. you know i was just being stupid, right?” he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his fingers through your hair. “don’t cry, baby. it kills me to see you like this.”

joshua he’s always so gentle, i dont even see him giving silent treatment to someone. he’s instantly at your side, cupping your face in his hands. “please don’t cry. i hate this. i hate that i made you feel like this.” his voice wavers as he presses his lips to your forehead, his touch feather-light. “i love you, okay? i’m so sorry. i should’ve never let it get this far.”

junhui’s been avoiding your gaze, trying to keep the silence going even though it’s killing him. that first broken sob makes him almost freak out, he’s at your side, his hands trembling as he touches your arm. “oh— i— no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice in purew panic. he gently pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

hoshi snapd. of course he snaps. he practically flies out of his seat, rushing over to you, arms wide. “oh, shit—no, no, don’t cry, don’t cry,” he blurts out, voice frantic as he wraps you up in the tightest hug, almost lifting you off the ground with how desperate he is. his fingers stroke your back awkwardly, trying to soothe you, and his voice is trembling.

wonwoo when he sees the tears fall, something inside him bursts. he’s not good at dealing with emotions, but he can’t just sit there while you’re crying. he pulls you gently onto his lap, his hand awkwardly stroking your hair. “i’m sorry, i don’t always know how to show it… but i care. a lot. i never wanted to make you cry.” he presses a kiss to your temple, his heart racing. “don’t cry, please. or I will cry too.” wonwoo says—already crying.

woozi stands up, awkwardly hovering for a second before pulling you into a tight hug. “fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispers against your hair. “i didn’t mean to push you this far.” his grip on you tightens, and he rests his chin on your head, letting out a shaky breath. “i can’t stand seeing you like this.” fingers twitching like he’s about to break any second.

minghao crouches down now too, right in front of you. he doesn’t say much at first, just gently tugs your hands away from your face, his touch delicate, like he’s scared to break you even more. “this was stupid, i shouldn’t have done this. it was childish.” he holds your gaze, his eyes serious “you didn’t deserve that.” kisses the back of your hands, laying his head on your knees begging you for forgiveness.

mingyu is already full of shame before you even start crying. but when the sobs hit, he stops dead in his tracks. he rushes to you, kneeling down in front of you. his large hands cup your face, and his thumbs brush away your tears. “fuck, i never wanted to make you cry.” his voice cracks, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, his head buried in your shoulder. looks like he’s about to break down himself.

seokmin gets on his knees beside you, eyes wide and watery, his usual smile completely gone. “my love i—” he says in this tiny voice, like he’s terrified he made everything worse. his hands flutter near your arm before he finally grips your sleeve like he needs you to believe him. “please don’t cry because of me.”

seungkwan’s been fidgeting the whole time, hating every second of the silence. thinking it couldn't get worse until you break in front of him “oh my god,” he blurts out, rushing over to you, his voice frantic. he pulls you into his arms, holding you as tight as he can. he lets out a shaky breath. “you’re everything to me. i’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

vernon is not sure how to fix it, thinking that in all ways, this sucked. the second you start crying, his chest tightens, and he’s at your side, pulling you into his lap. “i’m so so sorry. i didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, trying to look into your eyes, pressing his lips into a line when you look away. “i’m here, okay? i’m here.” he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

chan would be standing by the door, but the second you sob again, he’s crossing the room in three big steps, hands flinching to touch you and flinching back at him again as if he would burn you if he did. he would rather sit beside you still in silence, to find the best words since he hasn't talked during this whole time.

[pandapetals]

Blanket

logan howlett x afab!reader - fluff, short blurb, cute, no y/n used, no reader description

You use Logan as your blanket.

read on Ao3

You shivered, tossing and turning beneath the sheets, your body restless despite the quiet of the night. The mattress dipped slightly as you shifted again, the cold seeping in despite the warmth of the room. Logan stirred beside you, his sleep clearly interrupted by your movements.

“Can you stop moving?” he grunted, his voice thick with sleep, his brow furrowing slightly. He was sprawled out on his back, half the covers kicked off, his chest bare and rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rolling onto your side, trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. Your mind was still spinning, your body still too awake, too cold. “I can’t sleep.”

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, the soft light from the moon outside casting a faint glow across the room. He blinked a few times, then turned his head to glance at you, his usual gruffness softened by the haze of sleep.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice low, a little rough around the edges.

You let out a quiet sigh, curling further into yourself. “I don’t know. I’m just... cold, I guess. And restless.”

Logan shifted beside you, his arm brushing yours as he adjusted the covers over himself, though it didn’t seem to help either of you. He let out a heavy breath, clearly not thrilled at being woken up, but there was something softer in his tone when he spoke again. “Come here.”

You blinked, turning your head to look at him. “What?”

Logan sighed as if he had to spell it out for you. “Come here,” he repeated, more gently this time. “You’re tossing around like a damn fish. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

For a moment, you hesitated. Logan wasn’t exactly known for being a “cuddler,” and he didn’t usually offer more than a gruff arm over your waist when you shared the bed. Tonight, there was something different in his tone, something that made your chest warm despite the cold air.

You scooted closer, inching your way toward him, feeling the heat from his body as you moved. “Can I...?” You didn’t even finish the question, feeling a little silly for asking.

Logan gave you a sleepy smirk, his eyes still half-lidded but amused. “Just get over here,” he muttered, though his voice held none of its usual edge.

Before you could second-guess it, he reached over and tugged you closer, pulling you right up against him with a surprising gentleness. Instead of the usual arm-over-waist position, Logan shifted again, this time laying his head against your stomach, his arm draped across your side as if he was using you as his personal pillow. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of your shirt, the weight of his head resting comfortably against you.

You blinked, a little surprised by the shift in dynamics, but there was something undeniably calming about it. Logan, the man who always seemed to be brimming with restless energy and tension, had melted into a state of quiet comfort as he lay on you, his head nestled on your stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re a human blanket,” you teased, though your voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Logan grunted, his eyes already half-closed again. “I’m warmer than you, so quit complaining.”

You smiled despite yourself, your fingers instinctively drifting into his hair, running through the messy strands. His body relaxed further at the touch, his breathing evening out, and for the first time that night, the restless energy in the air seemed to dissipate.

As you stroked his hair, you couldn’t help but marvel at the quiet intimacy of the moment. Logan was laying on you like he didn’t have a care in the world, his weight a comforting presence that grounded you. The feel of his chest rising and falling against you, the steady warmth of his skin—it was all so soothing, so simple, and yet it felt like so much more.

The tension in your own body slowly ebbed away, the warmth of him lulling you into a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you needed. The room was silent, save for the soft sound of his breathing, and you could feel your eyes growing heavy, the weight of sleep finally pulling you in.

“Logan?” you murmured, your voice already thick with exhaustion.

He hummed in response, too tired to form words, but the slight tightening of his arm around you was enough of an answer.

“Thanks,” you whispered, the warmth in your chest spreading as you let your eyes drift shut.

Logan’s response was little more than a sleepy grunt, but you felt the soft brush of his lips against your side—barely a touch, but enough to send a flutter through your heart.

Within minutes, the rhythm of Logan’s breathing grew slow and deep, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a cocoon. You let yourself sink into the feeling, the weight of him on you grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

[sidekick-hero]

it isn’t over, it’s just begun

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember (prompts: backseat | clothes on | soft and slow | bruise) and @softsteddieseptember (prompt: Road Trip). This is super late, I'm sorry.

The biggest thank you to @firefly-party for reading over this and helping me make sense of English grammar and tenses. UGH.

6k | rated: e | warnings: (consensual) blood drinking | tags: vampire!eddie, monsterfucker!steve, dry humping, Steve takes care of Eddie

Read on AO3

“I’m dead, Harrington, not deaf! Haven’t I been through enough? Do you have to torture me with… with this? Crappy music from an even crappier movie? And here I thought we were friends!”

Eddie’s voice grew louder as he ranted, his hands flapping dramatically, his wide brown eyes sparkling under the streetlamps they passed. For someone technically dead, he was so alive—full of energy and life in every way that mattered. Even with his too-sharp teeth, translucent skin, and the absence of a pulse, he was still, well, Eddie.

Not that Eddie agreed.

That’s why they were here now, on this strange road trip to Washington D.C. to meet some friend of Owens who supposedly had a solution for him. How, Steve wasn’t sure. And if he was being honest, he didn’t entirely trust this friend—or Owens, for that matter. They’d been screwed over too many times, and Steve wasn’t about to risk Eddie’s… non-life.

Eddie seemed on edge too, fidgeting and talking too fast, too loud, confined in the tight space of Steve’s trusty BMW.

“If the movie’s so crappy, how do you know Take My Breath Away is in it, huh?” Steve countered, smirking, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

As expected, the question left Eddie sputtering, before he huffed and crossed his arms, pouting.

Steve took pity and turned the volume down, but not before belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but enjoy the way Eddie looked at him, his attention fixed solely on Steve. If he were being honest, that’s all he’d been craving lately—Eddie’s gaze, his words, his touch.

Steve was down bad.

They’d been driving for six hours, and Steve could feel the toll it was taking on him. He still wasn’t sleeping well—nightmares keeping him awake more often than not. The only thing that brought him any real comfort was when Eddie came back from his nightly hunts. It should’ve felt strange that the only time Steve truly felt safe from the horrors of the Upside Down was when the one "monster" they hadn’t killed or sent back to the alternate dimension was taking a shower in his en suite bathroom before crawling into bed with him.

Not that Steve thought of Eddie as a monster—just because he looked a little different and needed blood to survive didn’t make him one.

The only one who saw Eddie that way was Eddie himself. It had taken weeks to convince him to let them anywhere near him, constantly reassuring him that they knew he wouldn’t hurt them, that they loved him.

Eddie had only agreed to stop hiding in the woods if Steve was there, nail bat in hand, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

That’s why Eddie was living with him now. And that’s why Steve was the one driving him to Washington to meet this friend of Owens.

“You don’t look so hot, Stevie.”

“Geez, tell me how you really feel, Munson,” Steve shot back, only slightly annoyed. Eddie sounded more worried than anything.

Eddie raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Relax, you always look hot, big boy. But right now? You look beat. Wanna take a break?”

A break didn’t sound bad at all, Steve thought. Just to rest his eyes for a bit.

“Not your worst idea,” he conceded, much to Eddie’s delight.

Eddie’s voice turned theatrical as he declared, “I only have good ideas, I’ll have you know.”

Steve’s reply came without thinking. “Sacrificing yourself to the bats wasn’t.” The weight of his words hit him the moment the silence in the car became deafening—not even the sound of Eddie’s breathing, which was more habit than necessity, broke the tension.

Shit.

“Eddie, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Eddie cut him off, his voice flat, the humor gone. “There’s a path over there, leading off the road. Take it. We can park at the edge of the woods. You can rest, and I’ll... hunt.”

Eddie’s whole demeanor screamed for him to drop it. As much as Steve hated the tense silence hanging between them, he didn’t know what to say to make it better. He was sorry for how his words had come out, but the truth was, he’d meant them. Part of him knew it wasn’t fair—he hated what Eddie had done, but he also knew that, in Eddie’s place, he would’ve done the exact same thing. Saving Dustin, buying them time. Sacrificing himself because what was his life compared to theirs, compared to the world?

If Steve was being honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t Eddie he was truly angry at—it was himself. He should have been there. He should’ve been smarter, faster. Better. But he wasn’t. He let them fend for themselves, and this was the result.

The car swayed as it rumbled down the gravel path, pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts. What happened, happened. There was no changing it now. The only thing they could do was deal with the aftermath.

Steve parked the car in a secluded spot, hidden from the road to give them some privacy. The second the car stopped, Eddie swung the door open and disappeared into the woods without a word. Steve sat there, staring after him, regret settling like a weight in his chest.

With a heavy sigh, Steve pushed open his door and went around to grab his nail bat and a blanket from the trunk. He crawled into the backseat, balling up his jacket as a makeshift pillow. The bat went under the driver’s seat, just in case, and he pulled the blanket over himself. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and with the weight of guilt in his stomach and his mind racing, he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep.

But sleep had other plans. It claimed him within seconds, and as usual, Eddie was the last thing on his mind before darkness wrapped around him like a lover.

He came back to himself slowly, like wading through thick molasses, his senses gradually returning one by one. First, there was the awareness inside his body. He was thirsty. Hungry, too. A dull headache throbbed at his temples, and his neck ached from the awkward position he’d slept in. Everything pointed to him having slept far longer than he’d intended.

Next came his hearing—dulled ever since Billy Hargrove had taken a plate to his head, but still somewhat functional. He could make out the distant hoot of an owl and, if he concentrated, the faint sound of cars speeding by on the nearby road. Then there was something else—a rustling sound, faint and close by. He had to strain to hear it, and might’ve missed it if not for how near it was.

Steve kept his eyes closed, everything feeling too heavy and far away. But now, cautiously, he cracked them open just enough to survey his surroundings without alerting any potential threats.

The car was dark; the sun had set a while ago, from the looks of it. At first glance, it seemed like he was alone, and worry crept in about Eddie. But then the rustling sound came again, and this time his eyes landed on its source. Someone was sitting in the passenger seat, trembling violently.

“Eds?” Steve’s voice came out scratchy from sleep. He swallowed and tried again, softer this time. “Are you alright?”

The figure in the front seat—who Steve hoped was Eddie, though who else could it be—shook its head but remained silent. As Steve blinked the sleep from his eyes and they adjusted to the darkness, more details came into focus. Eddie was hunched over, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his feet up on the upholstery. Normally, Steve would’ve complained, but right now all that mattered was making sure Eddie was okay.

“Eddie, please, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

He sat up and reached out to touch Eddie’s arm, but the moment his fingers grazed the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, Eddie recoiled, scrambling as far as the small space of the car would allow.

“Don’t,” Eddie rasped, his voice raw and jagged, almost unrecognizable.

Ignoring the warning, Steve inched closer, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Eddie,” he repeated softly, using the name again because he remembered the first time they encountered this version of Eddie—feral, lost, barely recognizing them. Nancy had said to repeat his name often, to remind him of who he was. It became a habit Steve hadn’t been able to shake entirely.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Did something happen while you were hunting?” Steve’s stomach twisted at the thought. What if Eddie had hurt someone? Lost control to the instincts he barely understood? He should’ve been worried about whoever Eddie might’ve harmed—and he was, he was—but more than anything, he worried about what that guilt would do to Eddie. That it would push him to retreat, make him decide that he couldn’t be around people anymore. That he’d leave them.

Leave Steve.

At Steve’s question, Eddie finally looked up, and their eyes met. Steve’s heart lurched. Eddie's eyes were no longer the warm, familiar brown. They were red.

A whimper escaped Steve’s lips before he could stop it, and Eddie’s face—what little Steve could make out—twisted in what looked like pain. Steve realized, too late, that his involuntary reaction had struck at Eddie’s worst fear: that they saw him as the monster he believed himself to be.

“’M sorry, Eds,” Steve stammered, rushing to correct himself. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’m not scared of you, I swear. I’m just worried for you. Let me help, please.”

With his back pressed against the glove compartment, cowering in the cramped footwell of the passenger seat, Eddie let out a dark, humorless laugh. “You have no idea what you’re asking, Steve. You should just take that trusty bat of yours and bash my head in. That’s the only way you can help.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I… I don’t want to be a monster.”

“I’m not doing that, Eddie.” Steve’s voice was steady, even as his heart hammered in his chest. “You’re not a monster. You’re our friend.”

Eddie let out a bitter sigh, his hand fumbling for the car's overhead light. When it flicked on, Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Eddie looked more monstrous than ever—the sharpness of his teeth more pronounced, his skin drawn tight and pale, dark veins spidering beneath the surface. His red eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light, and his trembling grew worse.

“I haven’t eaten in days,” Eddie confessed, his voice low and filled with shame. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to kill any of the animals out there. And tonight, when I finally got desperate enough to try… there were hunters in the woods.” He clenched his jaw, as if disgusted with himself. “I couldn’t risk it, Steve. I had to retreat before I hurt them. Before I would have... lost control.”

Steve’s heart twisted at the sight of Eddie—so vulnerable, yet fighting desperately to stay in control. It hurt to see the raw fear in his friend’s eyes, especially when there seemed to be nothing that Steve could do to make it better. There had to be something. Anything.

Eddie’s refusal to feed explained why the monstrous side of him was becoming more pronounced, more visible. The hunger must be unbearable by now, gnawing at him from the inside out. Yet, Eddie—the stubborn idiot—was willing to suffer rather than hurt another living thing. How anyone could see a monster in someone so kind, so selfless, was beyond Steve. He knew without a doubt that Eddie would starve himself to death before ever harming anyone.

But maybe it didn’t have to come to that. Not if Steve had anything to say about it.

“Maybe…” Steve began, choosing his words carefully, “you don’t have to control it.” At Eddie’s incredulous look, he quickly added, “I mean, what if you let yourself have blood—from someone willing to give it to you? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone if it was, you know, consensual.”

Eddie blinked, his wide, reddish-brown eyes staring at Steve in disbelief.

“Could you repeat that? Because for a second there, it sounded like you were suggesting I should be drinking blood from a person.”

“It sounded that way because that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Steve said, keeping his tone calm. “Not just any person—someone who’d let you do it, of course.”

Eddie’s expression hardened as his voice rose, anger mixing with incredulity. “Are you out of your mind? You’re suggesting I just walk up to someone and be like, ‘Hey, can I get some consensual blood-sucking in? I can’t promise it won’t hurt, but you’d be doing me a real favor.’ Is that what you’re suggesting?”

The flare of anger in Eddie’s voice was almost a relief. It was familiar, a sign that somewhere under all that fear, the Eddie Steve knew was still there. Steve would take Eddie’s frustration over the emptiness he’d seen in him any day.

“Of course not,” Steve replied, his lips curling into a smile as Eddie’s shoulders sagged a little. “I’m suggesting you drink from me.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment, even with Steve’s less-than-perfect hearing. He was certain Eddie had even stopped breathing, not that he needed to. Eddie just stared at Steve like he’d suggested they strip naked, douse themselves in glitter, and run sparkling through the streets of Hawkins.

“Did you hear me? I. Want. You. To. Drink. From. Me,” Steve repeated, enunciating each word with deliberate conviction.

Eddie was already shaking his head before Steve had even finished speaking. “No! No, no, no. Absolutely not. You’re insane. I—Steve, please, no.”

It was like Eddie was going through the stages of grief—anger, denial, and bargaining. Robin had explained those to him once, and now Steve was watching them unfold before his eyes.

He knew he couldn’t force Eddie to do it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The truth gnawed at him: a part of Steve didn’t just want Eddie to feel better; he wanted to be the one who made Eddie feel better. And wasn’t that a messed-up thing to feel?

“Please, man. You’re dying. I can see it, and you can’t go on like this much longer.”

The look of utter defeat was painful enough, but it was the resignation in Eddie’s eyes that twisted the knife deeper into Steve’s heart.

“I’m already dead, Steve,” Eddie said quietly. “I died that night, and I shouldn’t have come back. Not like this. I don’t want to live as a monster. If I don’t feed, maybe I can at least die as a human.”

His words were calm, as though Eddie had made peace with his fate, but the sadness lurking behind them hit Steve like a truck.

It made him furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re seriously gonna sit there, look me in the eye, and tell me it’d be better if you were dead?” Steve’s voice shook with raw emotion. “Newsflash, asshole—if you die, it would destroy the kids. Dustin worships your scrawny ass. Mike tries to grow his hair like yours. Max would play D&D just to have you DM the game. And it’s not just them. Nancy. Robin. Me. Did you ever think about that? We need you, Eddie. So don’t you dare say it’d be better if you died, because it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t!”

His chest heaved with the effort of getting the words out, his anger mingling with desperation. But as the weight of his outburst settled, Steve felt something shift—like a festering wound finally being drained. It left him raw, but somehow… cleaner.

For a second, he thought it had worked. Eddie moved toward him slowly, his hand outstretched. Steve noticed the darkened tips of Eddie’s fingers, the sharpness of his nails, more menacing than they’d been just hours ago. But Steve didn’t flinch. He stayed exactly where he was, letting Eddie come closer.

Eddie didn’t bite him. Instead, his fingertips grazed Steve’s cheek, soft as a summer breeze. “You’re crying?” Eddie’s voice was a disbelieving whisper, like he couldn’t fathom that the thought of losing him could bring Steve to tears.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t care if Eddie could see everything he was feeling now—all the love and fear, laid bare for him to witness. If it meant Eddie would accept his help, if it meant Eddie would stay, then Steve would give him everything.

“You really mean it.” The wonder in Eddie’s voice made Steve smile, because it was so unmistakably Eddie.

“For someone so smart, you can be incredibly thick. Yes, I mean it. Now would you please get over yourself and bite me already? Jeez.”

Eddie’s startled laugh told Steve he’d said the right thing. “You do know I repeated senior year three times, right?”

“Yeah, and we both know that had nothing to do with you being dumb, dumbass.”

They both grinned at each other, the kind of goofy smiles that made Steve’s chest feel light. In that moment, all Steve wanted was to lean in and kiss Eddie—just close the gap and see what it felt like to finally do it.

But before he could act on that impulse, Eddie’s face suddenly twisted in pain.

“Eddie? Are you okay? What’s happening?” Steve’s voice rose with the anxiety building in his chest.

Through clenched teeth, Eddie managed, “I’m so hungry and you—” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You what? Come on, man, I thought we were having a moment here. Talk to me!”

Eddie groaned, clearly struggling, and finally blurted out, “You smell so fucking good, okay? Happy now? You smell good enough to eat and it hurts.”

The weight of Eddie’s words hung in the small space between them, thick with tension. Steve had been through enough—beaten, tortured, fighting interdimensional monsters while babysitting a pack of troublemakers. He’d earned something good in his life, damn it. And if that “something good” was Eddie Munson biting him and drinking his blood to stay alive, then so be it. Steve Harrington would take it.

"Almost," Steve growled, his patience finally snapping. He framed Eddie’s face with his hands, pulling him forward into a kiss that had been months in the making. And Eddie went willingly—no, eagerly—letting Steve lick into his mouth with a muffled, desperate moan.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve leaned back, pulling Eddie with him into the back seat. Eddie followed without hesitation, lips still fused to Steve’s as if they couldn’t bear to part. Maybe it was Eddie’s newfound abilities, or maybe the kiss had awakened some hidden grace, but somehow, Eddie managed to climb into the back with him without so much as a stumble.

The heat between them was electric like a thunderstorm, a shiver of pure need running through Steve’s body.

As they sank onto the cool leather, Eddie’s weight pressed down on him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something settled in Steve’s chest too—a deep sense of peace. He had craved this closeness for so long, the feeling of Eddie with him, on him.

“Eddie,” Steve moaned, finally pulling back to gasp for air. The moment their lips parted, though, he felt Eddie tense above him, realization dawning in his eyes. The danger of being so close to Steve, so close to his pulse, his heart pounding from desire, the blood rushing beneath his skin—it obviously hit Eddie like a freight train.

Steve knew if he didn’t act fast, Eddie would pull away, put distance between them when all Steve wanted was to be even closer. So he took the leap, pushing Eddie’s face toward his neck just as he wedged his thigh between Eddie’s legs.

“Please, baby,” Steve breathed, voice low and thick with want. “I need you to bite me. I want it. I want you.”

He didn’t care that he was begging—he only cared that Eddie wouldn’t leave him.

“Steve—” Eddie’s voice was strained, pained, and Steve felt the sharp graze of a fang against the sensitive skin of his neck.

Steve didn’t give him time to second-guess. He pressed his thigh upward, right against the growing bulge in Eddie’s jeans, and the movement knocked Eddie off balance. He fell forward, right into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him tight, refusing to let him pull away.

“I know you want to, so do it,” Steve urged, breath coming in shallow bursts. When Eddie still hesitated, Steve rocked his hips up and clawed at Eddie’s back, desperation leaking into his voice. “Do it!”

And then, finally—Eddie gave in. With a groan that was half-pain, half-relief, he sank his teeth into Steve’s neck.

It hurt.

But the pain wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst was the sucking—the sensation of blood being drawn from his veins. It felt foreign, unnatural, mixing with the burning throb of the open wound on his neck. The combination made his head spin, disorienting him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Yet somehow, despite—or maybe because of—the intensity of those sensations, Steve was painfully hard. His cock strained against his Levi’s, which already felt tight on a normal day. Now, they were almost unbearable, constricting, and he half-wondered if they’d cut off circulation to his legs soon.

It was confusing, how his body reacted to Eddie feeding on him, but what really sent shivers down his spine were the sounds Eddie was making. Quiet, needy moans muffled by Steve’s neck, soft hums of pleasure that Eddie probably wasn’t even aware of. And it wasn’t just that—Steve could feel Eddie mindlessly rutting against his thigh, the thick, hard length of him pressing into Steve like a promise.

Steve had never been this close to another guy’s hard-on before. The closest he’d come was watching Tommy H. jerk off beside him in his bedroom during a sleepover, Tommy’s eyes dark with something that had made Steve’s skin prickle. But this? This was so much better. It wasn’t just real—it was Eddie. And Steve had been halfway in love with him ever since that day when Eddie talked about Dustin, about how much the kid worshiped him, and how maybe Steve wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

The cramped space of the car was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and soft moans, but they weren’t just Eddie’s anymore. Steve’s own sounds were growing louder by the second, the initial sting of pain transforming into a heady mix of heat and need. Each pull on his neck sent a pulse of pleasure straight down to his groin, making his cock twitch against the too-tight denim.

He had never felt anything like this before—this blend of pain and pleasure, of intimacy and raw need. And all he could think was how right it felt. How right Eddie felt.

Steve felt like he was drifting in a dream, the world around him soft and hazy, time slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t tell how long it had been since Eddie’s teeth first pierced his skin—seconds, minutes, hours? Maybe even days. It was impossible to say, lost as he was in the slow, heated grind of their bodies. The friction between them pushed him higher and higher, though he wasn’t sure if it was the pleasure or the blood loss that had his head spinning. A distant part of his mind registered alarm at how weightless he felt, how far away everything seemed.

But Steve felt so good. Safe, even, wrapped in the arms of one of the most dangerous creatures he’d ever encountered.

It was Eddie who finally pulled back with a wet, slurping sound, his mouth leaving Steve’s neck as he gasped for breath. “Steve? Shit, Steve, come on, man, look at me.” Eddie’s cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, shaking him gently, his fingers trembling as he turned Steve’s face to meet his gaze. When their eyes finally locked, Steve was relieved to see that the red had vanished entirely from Eddie’s eyes, replaced by the familiar warm brown that he had come to love.

“’ddie?” Steve slurred, his voice sounding weak, even to his own ears. He caught the worried look on Eddie’s face, the way his brows knit together and his lips pressed into a tight line, stained with drops of blood. My blood, Steve thought vaguely. Somehow, the idea didn’t bother him. Summoning the last bit of strength he had, Steve smiled and placed his hand over Eddie’s, still resting on his cheek. “’m fine. Promise.”

“You don’t look fine, Steve,” Eddie shot back, panic edging his voice. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Goddammit, why didn’t you stop me? Shit, I could’ve killed you.”

Eddie’s voice cracked with guilt, his words thick with fear and desperation. He sounded wrecked, not in the way the still-persistent throbbing in Steve’s groin suggested they both should be, but wrecked with the weight of what had just happened. But Steve didn’t care about that. He didn’t care that he was dizzy, or that his body felt light as a feather. What mattered was making Eddie understand that Steve wanted this. He wanted everything Eddie could give him—his hunger, his desire, his love. And in return, he wanted Eddie to take everything from him — his blood, his heart, hell, even his life. It was all Eddie’s for the taking.

A gasp slipped from Eddie’s lips, sharp and incredulous. “Eddie…” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, his gaze soft and unwavering as he stared into Eddie’s wide, unblinking eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” Eddie whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.

Steve blinked, suddenly realizing he must have said it all out loud. Oops.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? So far, Steve’s gut instincts had always guided him right, more or less. He was still alive, wasn’t he? That was good enough in his book even if the Robin in his head was rolling her eyes at him.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do. I want you. All of you—the good, the bad, the ugly.” Steve’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief lighting his eyes. “And if you haven’t noticed…” He rolled his hips deliberately, making sure Eddie could feel just how much he wanted him. “I was really enjoying myself.” To drive his point home, he shifted his thigh, pressing it against the unmistakable evidence of Eddie’s arousal. Above him, Eddie’s face contorted in pleasure, a low moan rumbling from deep in his chest.

Gotcha, Steve thought with a smug little grin.

“And I think you liked it, too,” Steve continued, his voice dipping lower. “So why don’t you stop worrying and get us both off, huh? I’m not sure I can right now, so it’s the least you could do to make it up to me, don’t you think?”

It was a bold move, pretending to be nonchalant when, in reality, Steve felt like he was hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if Eddie would catch him or let him fall. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as he watched Eddie’s face—those deep, whiskey-brown eyes wide with surprise, disbelief, and something else that made Steve’s pulse race even faster.

Then, something happened that Steve did not see coming at all.

Eddie laughed.

Not just a chuckle, either, but a real, belly-deep laugh that shook his entire body. The anxiety that had been etched into his features for so long, the haunted look he’d worn since coming back from the dead, finally melted away. In its place, there was warmth, the corners of his eyes crinkling as laughter spilled from his lips, dimples flashing in a way that made Steve’s heart clench.

Eddie was so beautiful.

Eddie’s laughter faded, the echo of it lingering in the close confines of the car like the remnants of a shared secret. His gaze softened, the humor in his eyes shifting into something far more tender, far more vulnerable. “You’re unbelievable, Harrington,” he said, shaking his head, but this time his voice was filled with awe rather than disbelief. “Here you are, barely hanging on, and somehow you’re still making me feel flustered. What kind of guy are you?”

His fingers, cool but delicate, ghosted over Steve’s cheek, the sharpness of his nails a reminder of the monster Eddie thought he was. But the touch? That was all Eddie—the boy Steve had been falling for piece by piece. “You really want me to believe you’re okay with this? With me? After what I just did to you?”

Eddie’s voice wavered, his uncertainty spilling out despite the bravado. “You’re either the bravest or the dumbest guy I’ve ever met. Maybe both.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, one that matched Eddie’s in its softness, despite the tension hanging between them. “I don’t hear you telling me I’m wrong, man. We’ve been talking about me—what I want. But what about you?” He paused, his voice gentle but probing. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie’s reply came without hesitation. “You.”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest while the butterflies in his stomach went wild. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then have me.”

Blessedly, this time, Eddie didn’t argue. He didn’t hesitate or question whether he deserved this—deserved Steve. He just did what Steve asked.

Pushing himself up on one arm, Eddie moved his other hand from Steve’s cheek, letting it trail down to palm him through his jeans. The earlier intensity had faded slightly during their conversation, but the moment Eddie’s hand found him, it was like lighting a match to gasoline. Heat surged through Steve, reigniting everything Eddie had stirred up.

Eddie's grin widened, his sharp teeth gleaming as he looked down at Steve, the dangerous undertone of it a sharp contrast to the mischievous, boyish excitement that always pushed Steve to keep up with his contagious energy. “I knew you’d be packing, big boy,” Eddie teased, his voice full of admiration and humor. “And all this for lil’ old me?” His fingers squeezed experimentally before running along the length of him, feeling the way Steve’s body responded, hardening further under his touch.

Steve, still a little lightheaded from the blood loss—made worse now that more of his blood seemed to be rushing south—blinked up at Eddie, his thoughts scrambled. All he could do was press his hips up, seeking more friction, his body moving on instinct even if his brain was lagging behind.

His hips began to grind against Eddie’s hand, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm as Eddie held back, teasing, not giving him the relief he craved. Words failed him, but his body knew exactly what it wanted, each roll of his hips desperate and pleading.

“Didn’t anyone ever—fuck—tell you not to play with your food?” Steve groaned, hips stuttering as Eddie’s touch continued its slow, maddening exploration. It was risky bringing up the fact Eddie had just fed from him, but the elephant in the room wasn’t going anywhere, so why not address it now, while they were both caught up in the heat of the moment?

Eddie paused for just a moment, his eyes searching Steve’s with an unreadable expression. Then, he laughed softly, the sound low and rough, sending a shiver through Steve's entire body. "Oh, sweetheart," Eddie murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. "You have no idea how much I want to devour you."

Before Steve could even process Eddie’s words, Eddie shifted, settling between his thighs. The new position aligned their hard cocks perfectly, and they both gasped at the intense sensation. Eddie leaned down, nosing along Steve’s jaw until his breath ghosted over Steve’s ear. “Thank you, Stevie,” he whispered.

Eddie's hips rolled slowly, expressing his gratitude with each movement, though Steve wasn’t sure what Eddie was thanking him for. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the electric friction between them, the delicious drag of flesh against flesh. The weight of Eddie’s body should have made Steve feel trapped, but instead, it just amplified his need, igniting something primal within him. He was prey—and he loved it.

That thought made him cling even tighter, his legs wrapping around Eddie's waist to increase the friction. Eddie’s pace quickened, hips thrusting with more purpose, slow but insistent, like they were making love for real. Like Eddie was buried deep inside him. And suddenly, that’s all Steve wanted—Eddie inside him, closer, always closer. His teeth in Steve’s neck, his cock in his body. He needed to feel everything.

Steve’s fingers dug into Eddie’s back, nails scratching against the thin fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to mark him, to claim him the way Eddie had claimed Steve with his bite. Eddie didn’t complain—if anything, the scratches seemed to spur him on. His breath hitched, and he let out a string of grunts and moans, the sounds vibrating against Steve’s skin as Eddie whispered praises into his ear. He called Steve brave, kind, selfless, and so, so pretty.

Steve had experienced some incredible sex in his life, but nothing compared to this—dry-humping Eddie Munson in the backseat of his car, bodies pressed together, breathless, and needy.

A familiar tightness coiled in his groin, his whole body tensing as he teetered on the edge of release. But something was missing.

“Bite me,” Steve begged, his voice high and needy, almost desperate.

Eddie whimpered, his hips stuttering for just a moment. “Steve—”

Not willing to let Eddie pull away, Steve’s hand gripped his ass, urging him to keep moving, while his other hand pressed against Eddie’s neck, guiding him closer to his own neck. “I’m close, baby, so close. Please.”

As Eddie's teeth sank into his flesh once more, Steve's vision blurred, the rush of pleasure and pain so overwhelming it felt like his soul had left his body for a moment. He must’ve floated away for a bit, because when he came back to himself, he was no longer beneath Eddie but lying on top of him, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, while Eddie’s fingers gently combed through his hair in a soothing rhythm.

Steve must’ve made a sound, or maybe Eddie was attuned to the change in his breathing, because Eddie noticed right away.

“Hey, sweetheart, back with me?” Eddie’s voice was soft, warm, filled with affection.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, feeling content and utterly spent. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton, his body heavy but blissfully sated. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Never?” Eddie chuckled, his laughter light and fond, and Steve could feel himself falling even deeper into this perfect moment, cocooned in the warmth of post-orgasmic bliss.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his stomach growled loudly, breaking the quiet. Eddie snorted. “I think we have to move, darling. That sounded like a demogorgon.”

Steve groaned in protest, causing Eddie to give in with a soft smile. “Okay, fine. A few more minutes, but then we’ll get you something to eat and drink.” His hand drifted to Steve’s neck, thumb gently brushing over the already healing bite. “This took a lot out of you. Let me take care of you, okay? Like you did for me.”

Steve snuggled closer, the idea of being cared for by Eddie sounding better than anything. “Okay,” he mumbled.

Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Stevie.”

[cece693]

Touch Starved (Edward Cullen x M! Vamp Reader)

Summary: You were touch starved and didn't mind it. However, not everybody was fine with it. Your mate found it frustrating, especially when this distance caused rumors to swirl.

tags: reader doesn't care about touch, Edward does, rumors, students creating drama, needy Edward

Touch had never been a necessity for you. Even before you were turned, physical closeness felt redundant. You didn’t need to be held or touched to know you were cared for. Love, to you, was a state of being, a quiet understanding, not something proven through gestures or physical contact. The presence of someone you loved—just standing with them in comfortable silence—was enough.

When you became a vampire, this aspect of you didn’t just remain—it intensified. Your heightened senses transformed every little detail into something overwhelming. The smell of a distant forest, the vibrations of life beneath the ground, the heartbeat of a creature miles away, all became vivid. But touch? Touch became unnecessary, intrusive even. Feeling every texture, every pore, every slight imperfection was a reminder of how alien you’d become. Instead of comfort, it brought only awareness of your distance from the human experience.

For a long time, it didn’t matter. When you joined the Cullen family, they learned quickly that casual touch wasn’t your thing. You preferred your own space, your hands often resting quietly in your pockets or folded loosely in front of you. They respected that. Alice, of course, was the exception. Her constant, affectionate touches were something you tolerated, knowing it was how she expressed herself. You didn’t need it, but you didn’t mind it, either. It was Alice. That was different.

But Edward was different too.

Edward was tactile, always reaching out to touch you, needing that physical connection to feel reassured. For him, it wasn’t just affection—it was an anchor, a way to feel grounded in your relationship. He needed the brush of your fingers, the warmth of your hand, the brief press of your shoulder against his. It was how he knew you still loved him, still wanted him. You understood that about Edward, and for the most part, you tried to accommodate him. Even if it didn’t come naturally to you, you wanted him to feel secure.

But over time, your calm detachment, your natural tendency to pull away from physical intimacy, began to stir whispers at school. You had always been composed, quiet, and serene—never one to make a fuss or draw attention to yourself. To the students, your cool distance with Edward was misread as disinterest, something they couldn’t help but gossip about.

"He doesn’t even look at Edward anymore."

"They’re never together—he’s always with Alice. Have you noticed that?"

"I don’t think he’s into him anymore. Relationships fall apart, you know?"

And those whispers, those rumors, fed into something larger. It didn’t take long for people to start trying to test the waters to see if maybe there was truth to the rumors. Jessica Stanley was the first.

"Hey," she had said one afternoon, leaning against your locker, flashing you an overly friendly smile. "If you ever need someone new to talk to, I’m always here."

Her words didn’t register much with you; you'd barely glanced at her. You weren’t irritated or amused—just indifferent. Jessica, like the others, was human. Temporary. It was a passing moment, one that would dissolve as quickly as it came. You saw no need to correct her or give her a second thought. You knew the truth, and that was enough.

But Edward, standing across the hallway, heard everything. He heard the thoughts that accompanied Jessica’s smile, her hopes that maybe, just maybe, she could wedge herself between the two of you. He heard the other students, too—the boys who lingered near you, the girls who whispered when you walked past. It weighed on him more than you realized.

He never let it show but you could feel it. Even if you weren’t one for touch, you could sense the quiet tension building in Edward. He wasn’t just hearing the rumors; he was internalizing them, letting them feed into his own insecurities. His need for physical closeness became a silent plea, something you recognized but didn’t fully understand until much later.

That night, Edward finally spoke.

"Doesn’t it bother you?" he asked, his voice calm, but edged with frustration. You were in your shared room, the darkness outside framing him as he stood by the window, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.

You looked up from your book, your expression placid, as always. "What do you mean?"

"The students," Edward continued, pacing slowly. "The rumors. They think we’re falling apart, that you don’t care about me anymore."

You tilted your head. "They’re just rumors. Why do they matter?"

Edward’s golden eyes flashed with a frustration you weren’t used to seeing in him. "It’s not about them. It’s about us. They think I’m losing you. That I’m not enough. And then, when I see them trying to—”

"You know that’s not true," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You know how I feel."

"I do," Edward murmured, running a hand through his hair, his movements sharp with tension. "But hearing it—hearing them think about taking you, seeing how you pull away when I reach out—it’s like I’m losing you. Like you don’t need me."

You exhaled slowly, realizing how deeply this had been bothering him. You loved Edward deeply, more than anyone else, and you believed that your bond would be enough. Hell, he could read your thoughts—how they never strayed far from him—and yet, even that wasn’t enough. He needed to feel it, to experience it in a way you had always found unnecessary.

"I don’t need touch to feel close to you," you said gently. "But I understand that you do. And that matters to me."

Edward’s shoulders loosened slightly, but you could see the residual tension in his posture. "It’s just…I need to know that you still want me. That I’m still important to you."

"I’ve never stopped wanting you," you replied, stepping closer, your calm, steady presence meeting Edward’s anxious energy. You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers along his arm, letting the touch linger, even though it wasn’t something you needed. But you knew Edward did. His eyes closed for a brief moment, and you could see him relax under your touch.

"I’ll try," you said softly. "I’ll try for you."

The next day, at school, you made an effort. You didn’t flinch or pull away when Edward’s hand brushed yours in the hallway. At lunch, when your shoulders touched, you didn’t lean away. It wasn’t dramatic, just subtle adjustments. But Edward noticed, and so did the students. Jessica’s glances faded, and the other boys who had started to hover around you backed off.

For you, the need for touch would always be secondary. It wasn’t how you measured your love, and it never would be. But for Edward, it was everything. And for that reason alone, you would keep trying.

[zweiginator]

okay now what if patrick was the toxic one 🤭 you broke things off with him but he's *so* persistent. you finally decide that one last fuck will bring you both closure (you miss his dick) but the second he's inside you he's talking about putting a baby in you and "at least you'll *have* to keep me around then"

he’s so obsessed with you he thinks he’s going to fucking die when you break up with him. you’re just moving in different directions is what you told him. he needs to grow up and take accountability and do something with his life and maybe you’re right but you didn’t need to fucking break up with him.

he won’t stop calling you, texting you, somehow showing up when you’re trying to distract yourself.

and he just wants to talk, he says. for closure, so you can both just move on and call it quits. and you’ve never been good at saying no to patrick. deep down you really don’t want to say no. so you don’t. you agree because he looks so desperate for you and his pupils tripled in size as soon as he saw you and he’s clinging onto your wrist.

so you go to a random back room of the bar and patrick has pleading eyes and beer on his breath. and as he leans in to kiss you, his huge hand resting on your bare inner thigh, you melt into him. tangling your fingers into his hair and grinding against his touch as he moves your panties to the side and plunges his fingers inside you.

he says he loves you against your lips, against your throat as he kisses it. you shouldn’t but you palm him through his jeans and move to pull them down and the door is unlocked but who fucking cares.

he tries to be inconspicuous; he fucks you in his lap and maybe to passersby it would look like a particularly heated make out session but patrick is pulling you up and down his cock and gripping your waist, your ass—anywhere he can.

“i love you.” it feels sad how he says it.

“don’t say that pat.”

“don’t fuckin’ leave me.” he pulls on your hair and guides you up and down his cock faster. you can’t help but moan as your eyes roll back and his name tumbles from your bitten lips.

“patrick—“ it’s half a moan and half a scold, a way to tell him no.

“huh? what if i put a fuckin’ baby in you?”

you hate to admit how much everything he does turns you on. the manipulation and the obsession and him saying he’s gonna trap you with him makes you clench and he smiles wildly.

“i know you fuckin’ like that. want me to cum inside you?”

you shake your head but it falls back and patrick holds the back of your head to make you look at him.

“huh? i’m about to cum so you better tell me.”

and against your better judgment you hold him close and promise yourself you’ll take a plan b and block his number right after this.

[daistea]

Hi Daistea! You are absolutly THE Mithrun writer! You catch his essence so well

I was wondering if you could write a prequel to "first burn"? I would love to hear more of his thoughts about cultivating his desire for intimacy and affection with reader

Thank you so much for doing such good for the fandom!

Thank you friend! Here you go, though I kinda just.. rambled with this one. I was just having fun, I hope you like it.

Mithrun x gn Reader

Post-Canon / spoilers maybe

word count: 2,200

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It wasn’t as if there was a handbook on how to cultivate desires. It wasn’t as if ‘normal’ people understood and recognized the process of desire. It wasn’t as if Mithrun had any clue what he was doing. 

 That, in and of itself, felt like a swaying tightrope he was only barely balancing on. Atop that, discomfort was a new concept. The end result was only more stark, suffocating discomfort. Mithrun usually knew what to do; if he ever had to figure something out, the solution came quickly, effortlessly. He was beginning to think he’d been spoiled in that area. Having such unfettered focus lended itself to problem solving. 

 Mithrun watched you. Perhaps he could be the one to write the handbook on desire. And there’d be an entire chapter dedicated to you. Was it possible to have a desire for desire? He supposed as much. He was stuck on the outer rims of the feeling, staring through a dusty window at what could be if only he could be. He was a planet stuck in the farthest orbit from the sun, and it was cold, and nobody really saw him there in the sky because he was so damn far away. 

 You ran your fingers through your hair. His attention snapped back to you like a taut rubber band. There must be a footnote in the handbook on cultivating desires about your small habits. You fidgeted, you shifted, your smile twisted into different shapes depending on your mood and every one of these habits must be footnoted. 

 Mithrun couldn’t help but make a grimace. He rested his chin in his palm and tore his gaze away, instead following the lines of the wooden panels in the wall of the restaurant. The handbook was going to be long— Gods, he wasn’t going to write it, he didn’t care enough to put in the effort. Nevertheless, one of the jagged lines in the wood paneling unlocked something within his brain. The very fact that he relentlessly took note of your every minute detail said something. 

 What did it say? Mithrun moved onto the next line in the wood. It gave him nothing. What did it say, Mithrun? What was the implication? It isn’t a hard question, Mithrun. Just answer. Just say it. Just—

 He clenched his fist. He clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. You were still chatting away with the restaurant owner and he had half a mind to grab you by the waist and teleport you elsewhere, a place where you’d only pay attention to him. Only him. Perhaps that would answer the devastatingly easy implications that confounded him. 

 A wandering part of his mind, a traveler— which was a new feature: wandering— brought forth a query. What would you say about his inner turmoil? Most likely something along the lines of ‘I’m proud of you for trying, don’t pressure yourself so much.’ And he would ignore your words entirely because Mithrun wanted to want. 

 He must do something. There was that objective knowledge of what the situation required, it wasn’t exactly desire, but it was motivating. You deserved more. You deserved to have your hand held. You deserved kisses on your neck. You deserved gasps and moans and weak knees. He imagined the scene; you, beneath him, or in his lap, perhaps. You, closing your eyes, brows furrowed, whimpering as you sunk down and…

 Nothing. Mithrun knew he was making some sort of face, because a half-foot scurried past his table with wide eyes. Whatever. 

 Enough, he decided. It had been forty years since he had experienced any form of physical intimacy. While some feelings were more difficult to connect with, frustration was one of the easiest to identify. He’d had enough.

 Without a word to you— he probably should’ve given you a word, but he was in a hurry— Mithrun called upon his mana, the lingering spirits, and clenched his fist. A fourth of a second passed, a blink of an eye. He didn’t mean to end up on the kitchen floor of his apartment, but fine. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you.

 Mithrun sighed and laid back. The tile was cool on the exposed skin of his hands as he stretched out his limbs. There were cobwebs in the corners of the ceilings. He could already feel a dull headache coming on from the hardness of the floor. Okay. 

 Routine: eyes closed, deep breaths, sinking into the floor and smelling the air and hearing the sounds. His kitchen smelled like soap. The sounds were absent. Images of you flickered through his mind, a rope gently tied around his body, pulling him deeper into the warm flood-waters. He imagined your arms, your waist, your thighs, your lips, your eyes, your laugh, your gasps, your stare, your hair, your hands, your knees, your chest, your stomach. Then, running his hands up your waist. Holding you. How would you feel with your body against his? How would your hand fit with his? 

 For a moment, Mithrun felt his heart pull and twist. Objectively, that was the physical reaction to adrenaline hormones in one’s body; anxiety. Yet, he didn’t believe he was anxious. He took a moment to wrack his brain, and the process of doing so always reminded him of the file room in the old Canaries headquarters. Papers would flip across his thumb as he searched for the right information. All he needed was a glimpse of the right set of letters, the right combination of words, until he found what he needed. 

 For an elf, forty-ish years wasn’t too long. Mithrun had spent the majority of his life as an entirely different person— may he rest in agony. He sometimes looked back on memories in order to identify a feeling. Past Mithrun would feel that pull and twist when Lord Kerensil made those snide comments about Mithrun’s biological father. That twist and pull was always present when Obrin idly, innocently, mentioned an investment deal he’d been allowed to participate in, as the heir to the House of Kerensil. That twist and pull was present when he saw Sultha send Obrin those wry smiles, how her lips twisted in a way that made Mithrun sick to his stomach. 

 To even dare associate that feeling with you brought the same nausea. 

 Yet, perhaps it wasn’t about you. 

 Perhaps it was him. Perhaps it was the self-loathing. He’d always carried it like a disease, though the symptoms only appeared in certain moments. Lately, though, he’d been sick with it more often than not. The happiness of a new purpose was parallel to the newfound connection with his more negative emotions. Mithrun supposed that it was person-hood; anger, sadness, joy, attraction, deep and intense adoration that made him physically ill when he meditated for too long about how he couldn’t quite feel the allure of a kiss. 

 That was his person-hood. Mithrun’s life was a constant struggle, and the kitchen floor felt abnormally cold that evening. 

 Kabru suggested that Mithrun keep track of new developments. It would help him, Kabru said. Mithrun had no protests nor interest in the theory, but nothing better to do, so he had a journal. Thus far, only one page in the journal had been filled. It said: 

1. Cheese is alright, preferably on bread

 Very exciting, at least for some— you and Kabru, particularly. Mithrun had a preference! Despite your excitement, you still put up your hands and waved them as if to ward off the positivity, “You’ve always had preferences, you know. It was just easy to overlook them.”

 Mithrun supposed you were right. He had plenty to complain about. That was preference-based, in a way. Obsession over the demon was such a large issue, though, that it left no room for anything else. It was like a flood, seeping into every corner, taking every inch, leaving nothing untouched and dry. 

 The second item in the journal was:

2. Black coffee, two sugars

 That was how he used to drink it. Some things never changed. Even if the timing was different throughout the year, the sun would always rise and set.

3. Desiring some sort of physical contact involving hands (with [name] specifically)

 And when Mithrun desired something, he would have it. Inevitable. He knew from an objective standpoint that carrying on with that view would only lead to disappointment, but the desire to change did not arise.

 Mithrun began taking your hand whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

 The first time, you glanced at him. Your lips were parted and your eyes the slightest bit wider. You looked down at your intertwined fingers. Mithrun did not dare look away from your face as you studied how each finger fit together like pieces of a puzzle— designed specifically for each other. 

 When you turned your head back to the person you were originally speaking to and resumed your conversation, satisfaction like a warm blanket settled over Mithrun’s shoulders and chest. He may have looked a bit smug without realizing it, for your conversation partner sent him a look. 

Next:

4. The palm is more sensitive than I remember. I think it would be okay to use it. 

 Mithrun pressed the palm of his hand against the small of your back. You had no reaction. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that you accepted his touch so readily, or displeased that he saw no acknowledgement. He settled for some in-between feeling that even Past Mithrun could not identify. 

 Without putting it into certain words, Mithrun had an idea of why his skin felt so sensitive to your touch. For one, he’d gone so long without physical touch that his nerves were desert dwellers encountering an oasis for the first time. Secondly, it was the broadest part of the hand. The fingers were important, of course, they wrapped and they clutched and they stroked. Yet, the palm was deeper. It was taken for granted. Everybody in possession of fingers used them every day of their life. They were mundane, almost. The palm, though, was for cradling. The palm was for tracing. The palm was—

 Mithrun lifted your hand without a second thought. He’d nearly forgotten what shame felt like, it was another one of those objective feelings that he could identify in others but not quite connect with. Shame was not present at that moment, and he was pleased for that fact. If he had shame, then he would not experience the feeling of your palm against his lips. 

 He held your wrist with both hands. Your skin smelled like soap, and it was not exactly soft. There were lines and ridges on the palm, but he took a moment to memorize the shape of each one against his lips as he pressed a kiss to the spot between your thumb and index finger. 

 Your conversation partner looked away. You looked at Mithrun. He looked at you, his good eye fluttering open and taking in the sight of your expectancy and surprise and fondness and embarrassment. 

 Three seconds passed. Mithrun knew it was three seconds that passed because he counted. One, pause. Two, pause. Three, pause. 

 You swallowed and looked back at the person you’d been speaking to. Mithrun knew them, but didn’t care enough to allow his brain to make that connection between their face and his memories. His gaze was solely on you. Your profile was silhouetted against the orange sunset of Melini. 

 “Anyway, what were you saying?” You asked the person Mithrun didn’t care to identify— because you were the newest flood. You spread in a similar manner, filling up every inch and leaving nothing dry. Something in the back of his mind told him that that wasn’t healthy. Where there was a flood, there was mold and rot and destruction. 

 Whatever. 

 “The state of Melini,” your conversation partner said, “it’s really becoming a nation now.”

 You nodded, “It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.”

 That was such a generic statement, but you believed it. Perhaps the commonplace quality of the statement was what made it less feasible. Yet, when coming from your lips, Mithrun could almost imagine it. 

 Your lips. You said the most wonderful things, even when they were totally common and quotidian. You could tell Mithrun that the sun had exploded, and despite the clear existence of the sun in the sky at that very moment, he’d agree with you simply to see you satisfied.

 The desire to kiss you hit Mithrun like a slap to the face— no, actually, Past Mithrun had been slapped several times before, and he always knew it was coming. The desire to kiss you hit him like the taste of cheese on toasted bread, like the pleasure of a black coffee with two sugars, like the shiver down his spine when your palm pressed against his. 

 And finally, the handbook of desire was written. There were no words. It didn’t need words. 

 He desired you. 

 What even was attraction? What even was happiness and anger and desire? It was so subjective that the answer would never satisfy the inquirer. And Mithrun was tired of dissatisfaction.

 And it was time to act. 

 And it was time to open the gates. 

 And it was time to drown in desires he’d never let himself acknowledge. 

5. Start slowly. Whatever happens, happens. You can want now. 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•