#do i dare write a drabble about him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plethorawrites · 5 months ago

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ahh your recent clark kent drabble has me so dizzy ,, him begging you not to make noise and he’d probably force his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, your little gags probably wouldn’t be much better, but better for him than hearing your moans 😩

MY PHONE FLEWWW FROM MY HAND WHEN I SAW THIS!!! But I absolutely see the vision! (This was longer and more explicit than planned. Oops? If anyone asks, I didn't write this and if you know me irl... please alert me so I can off myself)

Clark Kent, who adores having that little loft space in the barn because it's the perfect quiet spot for you and him to spend time together when his parents are home or you just don't want to risk getting caught. His couch is pretty comfortable too, so when he lays you down on it, it's more than enough space for you, even if he's barely able to fit on top of you.

It's usually peaceful, the two of you with just just enough privacy to make some noise without getting caught and just enough lack of it to add to the thrill of being in front of an open barn window while you're vertical. Despite not really fitting on it, he wouldn't dare complain when he had you laying under him, your legs intertwined with his, head tilted back against the arm rest as you held onto his neck.

If freezing time was one of his powers, he'd use it right then and there to memorize everything about this moment—your open lips, which were puffy from him biting on them and the bruises darkening on your neck as the seconds passed. The messy strands of your hair sticking to your face, which was flushed and glowing in the dim lighting. It's like his own persona heaven.

Or, it was, until he heard the barn door slide open.

He'd tried to stop, when he heard it, honestly, he did. Clark could see your eyes snap open, panic replacing your bliss, and wanted desperately to make you go back to babbling his name again. But considering his dad was below them, searching for something, that seemed like a bad idea.

After a few moments of complete stillness, he couldn't handle it anymore, and regardless of the risk, held your hips as he slowly went back to what he was doing, thrusting in and out of you. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes trained on you as you try, very weakly to quietly argue with him about pausing and getting dressed, but before your argument even fully leaves your lips it's cut off with a whimper.

He shushes you, his eyes getting serious the way they sometimes did when something was important to him. One of his hands left your hips to readjust the blanket that was loosely draped over both of your waists and thighs, bringing you a tad of comfort before another, much louder moan, left your lips.

His hand immediately went to your mouth, his teeth clenching as he panted heavily, pressing his face to your neck, sucking another hickey on it, before pulling away to look at you. Your eyes met his for a moment before they rolled back and your spine arched a bit.

"You're getting there, aren't you?" You whispered in your ear, feeling you fall apart for him. "Go ahead," he encouraged. "Just stay quiet." His hand dug further into your hip and another of your whines was absorbed by his hand. "Shhh, quiet," he said again. "You gotta be careful."

You were trying. Honestly.

You could hear his dad throwing boxes around, looking for something and struggling to find it. He pulled your leg up, wrapping it around his waist and the movement, the way you could feel him so much better made another, much louder moan leave your lips.

Clark winced, pressing his face to your neck to muffle himself as his hand pushed harder against your lips. Your hand gripped his wrist tightly and he cursed under his breath. "I know, I know you don't like having your mouth covered, I'm sorry," he apologized, kissing your cheek. "It's just for a little bit."

You shook your head weakly, protesting and he gritted his teeth, his head swimming as he tried to balance too many thoughts at once. His hand left your mouth, two of his fingers pushing past your lips. "Is this better?" He asked, panting against your neck as his fingers pressed down on your tongue, sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag.

The sound made him moan, and he buried his face against your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo for a moment. Your hand dragged down his back, and his head fell, pressing his forehead to your shoulder for a moment.

"That's it," he praised, his fingers sliding in and out of your mouth, exploring it. "So much quieter like this." Some box went thud against the floor below but all he cared about was the feeling of your tongue under the pads of his fingertips as they pushed towards the back of your throat, eliciting little gags from you. He lifted his head, kissing your forehead, your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

Clark's teeth sink into your shoulder as he reaches his climax, trying to keep himself as quiet as possible by biting down on your flesh, the sharp canine teeth causing you to yelp. His fingers forced their way so far back in your throat you felt like you were choking, but it successfully stole the sound of pain from your mouth.

His teeth left your skin after a moment and he soothed the area with his tongue, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You're doing so well for me," he promised you, his fingers messaging your tongue as he felt your body go rigid under him. "Just like that, sweetheart. Keep gagging for me."

The next sound to leave your mouth was the loudest, but once again, his fingers swallowed the noise before it even left your mouth. They scraped the back of your throat, tears pricked in your eyes as you gagged, your entire body tensing up before going completely slack.

His fingers gently slid back out of your mouth and laid his head on your shoulder as his entire weight slowly crushed you. He buried his face in your neck, his hands finding your hair and threading through the locks.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, gently massaging your scalp, pushing your hair around, tangling it. "So damn perfect," he repeated again, out of breath and exhausted as he placed another kiss to your neck.

#headcanon #x reader #dc comics #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #smallville clark kent #clark kent smut #clark kent #clark kent x you #clark kent x female reader #smallville #smallville x reader #plethorawrites #clark kent smallville

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aleksatia · 20 days ago

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Don't know if you will accept this one because not everyone is comfortable with writing for pregnancy trope. But i will try. 😭

Imagine the reader is pregnant, and for some reason, she can't get to the hospital or opted for giving birth at home, and the labor starts with just the reader and the boys, how would they react? (Zayne would go well, I guess lol)

Anyway, I gotta say I am obsessed with your writing ✍️ 🤤🥰

It honestly took me forever to get this request done, but here it is—finally! I ended up splitting it into two parts, including a bit of my own experience with childbirth.

The main challenge was that, even when extreme, birth tends to follow a similar pattern. I didn’t want to lean into unnecessary drama, so I approached it differently: wrote one complete mini-fic and turned the rest into short drabble-style sketches, which I’ll be posting here.

You can read more about Xavier/MC’s story here. I chose him simply because I hadn’t written anything focused on him in a while—and it just flowed (from pen... well, keyboard) that way.

CT/WT: birth scene, childbirth, emergency birth, home birth, water birth, airplane birth, snowstorm birth, intense emotional content, partner support, soft!men, vulnerable!men, protective partner, found family, twins, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, fatherhood, new dad energy, birth fic, drabble collection, first-time dad, emotional whump, soft smutless intimacy, love confession, trauma comfort, birth complications, raw vulnerability, medical emergency, no smut just feelings, domestic intensity. Headcanon!!!

🖤 SYLUS — The Moment He Realizes It’s Up to Him (Home Birth, Unprepared Conditions)

The Second It Clicks: You gasp. Double over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat. “Is it time?” You nod. Pain. Panic. Wet warmth. His blood freezes — then boils. No hospital. No doctor. No help. Just him.

His First Thought? “Fuck. No. Not like this. You deserve better.” Not chaos. Not uncertainty. Not cold floors and towels that aren’t sterile. He’s Sylus — he controls everything. But this? This is the one thing he can’t delay, buy, or dominate. It’s coming. Now.

Terror?Not for himself. For you. For the pain in your eyes, the grip of your hand, the sheer fragility of the moment. His entire being rallies like a war horn blaring inside his chest. “If the universe put this in my hands, then it’s getting the best fucking performance of my life.”

What he does first:He lowers you carefully to the bed. Kisses your knuckles, even as he’s barking quiet orders into a phone no one picks up. His voice is deep, steady. But his heart is galloping. He never lets you see it. Never lets his fear break through. You deserve certainty, and he’ll give it to you — even if he’s unraveling at the seams.

What He Says:“Kitten. Look at me.” You do. Eyes wide. Brave. Terrified. “You trust me?” You nod. “Then breathe. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I always have.”

What He Feels:You’re vulnerable. And you’re still the strongest creature he’s ever seen. He wishes he could take the pain. Rip it from you and carry it in his own bones. But this is your war. And all he can do is be the sword and the shield. “Don’t you dare break on me, baby. You’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

And when you cry out —Something inside him shatters. Not weakness. Not panic. Love. The kind that could burn cities. The kind that makes gods kneel. He wipes your brow with trembling fingers, and for the first time in years, he whispers: “Please. Just let me do this right.”

The First Push:Your nails dig into his forearm. Hard. He doesn't flinch. He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’ve got you.” Your body trembles. He sees it — the pain, the fear, the fight. And God, he’s never loved you more than in this bloody, imperfect, holy moment.

The Next Contractions Hit:They're relentless. And so is he. He’s on his knees beside the bed now, sleeves rolled, jaw locked, hands steady but heart breaking. “You're doing so good, kitten. So fucking good. I'm right here. Ride it. Ride it out. You're the strongest thing I've ever seen.” He keeps talking because your cries are the sound of his soul ripping open. He wants to scream with you — but he doesn’t. He can’t. You need him iron-clad.

When the Baby Crowns:For a split second, he freezes. The sight undoes him. It's real. His voice catches. He swallows hard. Then acts. Fast. He speaks softly but firmly. “Almost there. Just one more, baby. Give me everything you’ve got.”And when you do — when you scream and bear down and sob his name — the world shifts.

The Birth:The baby slips into his hands. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He catches it like it’s made of light. For a moment, he just stares. His lips part, but no words come. This. This is his child. His hands are shaking now. Bloody, trembling. But when the baby cries? He lets out the most ragged breath of his life. “You did it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You fucking did it.” He ties and cuts the cord. Precise. Careful. Reverent. Wraps the baby in a soft towel and places it in your arms. And then? He just watches. Like the world cracked open to show him something he never thought he was worthy of.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He doesn’t move from your side. Doesn’t let go of your hand. The men in white bark questions. He answers in clipped growls, still on alert. They try to move in too fast, and he snaps, “She’s fine. You move when she says so.” The room is full now — but all he sees is you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:He sits beside you, one hand on your leg, the other gently stroking the baby's tiny back. His shirt is soaked, his knuckles still stained, his eyes rimmed red. He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes in the shape of you. Watches you like you might disappear.

And then he says it, raw and low:“I’ve killed for less than the pain you just went through.”“You scare me,” he adds, almost smiling. “Because I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did.”A pause. His voice softens. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

How He Is With You After: He won’t leave the room for the first 24 hours. Won’t sleep unless you sleep. Won’t speak unless it’s to you. Every time you shift, he’s there. Water. Blankets. Warm palms. He touches you like you’re made of fire and stardust. And maybe you are. You brought life into the world — and now he’s a man who’s seen a goddess bleed and survive.

What’s Changed? Everything. You’re no longer just the woman he worships. You’re the mother of his child. And he’s never been more dangerous, more devoted, or more in awe. And when he finally holds the baby in his arms, whispering something in a voice only the stars can hear, you catch the look on his face — as if the king of the underworld just met the one soul that could make him believe in heaven.

🎨 RAFAYEL — Water Birth Gone Off-Script (But You're Still His Masterpiece)

The Second It Clicks:You gasp. A real one. Water shifts behind the door. He hears it — not the splash, but the silence that follows. Brush mid-stroke, he freezes in the studio. Palette still in hand. Then he hears you call his name. Soft. Urgent. Different. His heart misses a beat. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s time.

His First Thought?“Cutie, not yet — where’s the damn midwife?” This was supposed to be smooth. Music, candles, soft towels, help. He practiced. Took notes. Learned everything. But you’re contracting, you’re gripping his arm like a lifeline, and that carefully prepared plan just drowned.

Terror?Only for a split second. Then? It turns into motion. His version of war. No armor. Just bare skin, water, and wild love. He tears off his silk shirt, drops to his knees beside the tub, and cups your face. Eyes blazing. Smile trembling. “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Let’s be legends, sweetheart.”

What He Does First:Lights dimmed. Calm playlist turned off. That’s not helping. He speaks instead. Constant stream of velvet and madness — anything to keep you in your body. He checks your breath, strokes your arms, pours warm water down your back. He holds your thighs when the cramping gets too much. “Breathe, Cutie. Moan if you need to. Scream. I’ll scream with you.”

What He Says:“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever painted and you’re not even trying right now.” “Do you know what it does to me — to see you bring life into the world? I’m ruined.” “I love you. You’re terrifying. It’s magnificent.” “I’m not ready, but I’m so ready. Are you ready, sweetheart?” He laughs and cries all at once. Classic Raf.

What He Feels:Absolute awe. Like watching a volcano give birth to the moon. You’re in pain, and he’d trade his soul to take it away —

But you’re also gorgeous. Power and surrender. Fury and grace. He watches you like a living epic, memorizing every second. And somewhere deep down: terror. Because he’s about to meet a little soul that already feels like the most important thing he’s ever waited for.

And When You Cry Out —He flinches like someone hit his body. Then kisses your forehead. Then your shoulder. Then your fingers. “I know, I know, my love. You can hate me right now. But when it’s over, you’re going to be a fucking goddess in my arms again.”

The First Push:He holds you. Literally. Behind you in the tub, your back pressed to his chest. Whispers in your ear like poetry, nonsense, love confessions. His hands steady your belly. His cheek presses to yours. “Push. With me. Right now. Pretend the stars are watching.”

The Next Contractions Hit:You sob. Scream. Curse. He laughs through tears. “That’s my girl. Go feral, baby.” He doesn't pretend it's easy. He matches the chaos. You scream louder? He screams louder. You sob? He hums a lullaby in broken Lemurian. And when you break? He stitches you back together with every ridiculous, poetic, stupidly beautiful word.

When the Baby Crowns:He feels it before he sees it — the shift in your breath, the way your body tenses like a storm breaking. “Cutie — he’s here. He’s really here.” He helps you lean forward, moves behind and then lower, one arm steadying you as he shifts to kneel in the water. And then he sees it — the beginning of everything. His voice is gone. His hands shake. But he stays.

The Birth:The baby slides into the water. Raf catches him like he’s catching a star falling into the sea. He brings him up gently, lets him cry, and then stares — completely undone. He places the baby on your chest with reverence. Then breaks. Just breaks. Weeps silently as he holds you both.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He answers the door shirtless, soaked, with red-rimmed eyes and a feral look. “Too late,” he snaps. “She did it herself. I just got to be lucky enough to watch.” Then walks past them, back to the bathroom, because he’s not done looking at you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:You’re in bed. Baby asleep. Candles flickering low. Raf’s lying next to you, propped on an elbow, fingers lightly tracing invisible constellations on your arm. His voice is almost a whisper. “You made something I could never paint. Not with all the colors in the universe.”

Confession:“I used to think love was chaos. Fire. Tragedy.” He swallows. “But you — carrying him, birthing him — you made me believe in something bigger than all that. Something gentle.” Beat. “Still chaos. But now… now I want to live in it.”

How He Is With You After:He won’t stop touching you. Ever. Cheek pressed to your stomach. Hand around your ankle. Lips to your collarbone. He calls you his ocean, his cathedral, his everything. Gets jealous when the baby gets more attention, then sulks dramatically — only to melt the moment the baby yawns.

What’s Changed? He didn’t think he could love more than he already did. But now he’s ruined. Completely, gloriously yours. He paints you every day. He stares at the baby like a spell. And every night, he murmurs: “Cutie, I would live a thousand lifetimes just to land in this one with you.”

🛩️ CALEB — 35,000 Feet Up, When the World Falls Apart (And You’re the Only Thing That Matters)

The Second It Clicks:Your breath hitches. You shift. Then freeze. He knows your body too well — something is off. You whisper, "Caleb…" He looks at you. And in that one heartbeat, he knows. It’s happening. Here. Now. Too early.

His First Thought?“No.”Not like this. Not at cruising altitude. Not without equipment, backup, time. You were supposed to have two more weeks. He had a plan. A perfect one. And the baby just threw it out the emergency exit.

Terror?It brushes him. A ghost against the back of his mind. There’s a moment — sharp, almost blinding — where every instinct screams: get to the cockpit, take the controls, force the descent, get her to a hospital, make it stop. Not the birth — your pain. The helplessness. But Caleb is a fortress — fear doesn’t get through the walls. Not when you need him solid. Not when your breathing goes shallow and your fingers dig into his thigh. He shuts it out. Cold. Calculated. He stays. Right where you are. “Handle it.”

What He Does First: Turns to the nearest flight attendant — she’s pale, shaking. “Get blankets. Towels. Water. First aid kit. Everything. Now.”Then he takes your hand. Squeezes once. He shifts the cabin — clears seats, turns it into a command zone. Straps you in, kneels in front of you like you’re his entire mission.

What He Says:“Breathe.” “Look at me, not the chaos. Me.”“You're safe. I'm here. I’ll get you through this.”“No one’s going to touch you but me. You hear me?”Low, controlled. The voice of command — but laced with something raw. The kind of voice that means he’d rip this plane open and land it with his bare hands if he had to.

What He Feels:Failure. Because this wasn’t the plan. Because he let you on this plane, knowing the risks. Because you’re in pain and there’s nothing he can shoot or order or carry to fix it. But above that — something bigger. Something anchoring. You’re about to give him a child. His child. And he’s never been more terrified or more in love.

And When You Cry Out —He stops breathing. Just for a moment. Then grabs a wet cloth, wipes your forehead, presses his mouth to your knuckles. “It’s okay. I know. I know it hurts. Just hold on, love.” He doesn’t flinch when you scream. He braces for you. Becomes your wall.

The First Push: He helps you brace your legs. Talks you through it. Counts your breaths. His voice doesn’t shake. You’re gripping his shoulder like you want to break him — and if it helps, he wants you to. “Push. Right now. You can do it. I know you can.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come fast. Brutal. You’re soaked in sweat, sobbing, slipping in and out of focus. He holds your gaze. Forces you to stay present. “Stay with me. Just me. Eyes on mine.” He’s not just commanding your body now. He’s anchoring your soul.

When the Baby Crowns:His jaw locks. There’s blood. Pain. A sound from you that breaks something in him forever. But then— “I see the head. One more. One big push, baby. Do it for me.”He’s never begged in his life. Until now.

The Birth:The baby slides into his hands — hot, wet, alive. He holds it like it’s a grenade and a prayer. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct drilled in from every medical video he obsessively watched in the weeks before. Wipes the face. Rubs the back. Hears that first cry. And his shoulders slump like he just survived a war. He lays the baby on your chest with military precision— But his hands are shaking. And his voice is gone.

When the Plane Lands:Paramedics are already waiting on the tarmac. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he’s on his feet, securing the baby, then lifting you into his arms — no hesitation, no discussion. Your body wrapped in his jacket, his grip unshakable. “She stays with me,” he tells them — low and final. He carries you down the stairs himself, eyes scanning every face like a soldier clearing a field. And when the medics move in, he doesn’t flinch — but he watches every hand. Every word. His eyes never leave you. He’s still on the battlefield.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again: The baby’s wrapped and asleep. You’re in a hospital bed now, monitors quiet, lights dim. Caleb sits beside you — still in his flight-worn clothes, hands resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s holding the line. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you breathe. As if any second, the universe might try to take you again.

Confession:“I don’t know how to do this part.” Soft. Almost a whisper. “I know war. I know strategy. I know how to keep you alive.”A pause. “But you just gave me everything, thirty-five thousand feet above the world. And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

How He Is With You After: Hypervigilant. Keeps you warm. Fed. Rested. Checks the baby’s breath every ten minutes. Doesn’t leave your side — not even to sleep. Carries you to the bathroom if he has to. Barely talks. Just does.

What’s Changed? He always thought his job was to protect you. Now he knows — you are the reason he fights. You made life, in midair, with nothing but pain and instinct. He’s seen you soft. He’s seen you in love. Now he’s seen you divine. And no enemy will ever get close again. Not even turbulence. And definitely not labor at 35,000 feet — because he’s never letting you board a plane pregnant again. He’s already planning the next birth. Controlled environment. Ground-level. Walls. Doctors. No sky. No chaos. Just you, safe — the way you were always supposed to be.

🧊 ZAYNE — Snowcrest Emergency (Twins, a Storm, and You in His Hands)

The Second It Clicks:You’re at the stove, stirring a pot of mulled wine, the scent of cloves and orange peel curling through the wooden walls of the chalet. Snow presses against the windows like a soft white fist. Then something shifts. You freeze. One hand goes to the edge of the counter, the other to your belly. Your breath catches — once. Twice. Too sharp. Zayne looks up from the hearth, where he was stacking firewood. Sees your face. Sees your hands. His mind clicks into motion before you can speak. Contractions. Strong. Rhythmic. A month early. Twins. It’s happening. Now.

His First Thought?“No hospital. No OR. No neonatal equipment. Two infants. High-risk environment.” His mind races: What’s missing? What can he improvise? What matters most? You. He recalibrates in milliseconds. The plan has changed. You’re the plan now.

Terror?He doesn’t let it register. But for the first time in a decade, he feels his pulse spike without choosing it. This is not a patient. Not a clinical environment. This is you. And his hands — hands that saved hundreds — suddenly feel too slow, too human.

What He Does First:Takes control. Quietly, precisely. “Lie down. Left side. Pillows under your knees.” Gets gloves. Clean cloths. Lantern light. Wipes the counter. Boils water. Checks your pupils, your breath rate, heart rate. Starts counting contractions. Voice — steady as marble. “Vitals are within threshold. We’ll manage.” He doesn’t say "I’m scared." He sets his jaw and becomes the machine you need.

What He Says:“Cut the noise. Focus on me.” “Deep breath in. Hold. Now exhale slowly.” “You’re safe. I have you. Nothing’s going wrong under my watch.” And softer, almost like it slips out against his control: “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here.”Then quieter still, barely audible over your breathing— “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

What He Feels:A depth of protectiveness so massive it short-circuits logic. He can’t afford emotion — so it burns quietly behind his ribs. Every sound you make, every twitch of pain — he catalogs it, files it, calculates it. But somewhere behind the math, something whispers: “These are my children. And she’s the one I never deserved.”

And When You Cry Out—He doesn’t flinch. But his jaw locks, and he moves faster. More towels. More warmth. Calmer voice. He adjusts your position, murmurs into your hair: “I know. I know, love. It hurts. You’re strong. You’re going to get them here, and I’m going to catch them. I promise.”

The First Push:““Push with the contraction. Not before.”He watches your breath, cues your muscles, syncs with your rhythm like surgery. You scream. He doesn’t blink. Just steadies your knee, keeps his voice low and close. “You’re doing it. This is the part that ends it. The worst is behind you.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come harder, closer. You’re shaking. Your body starts to give. Zayne grips your hands, brings your forehead to his. “You’re not breaking. You’re giving life. Do it. I’m right here.” He says it like a command. But his voice catches.

When the Baby Crowns:It’s fast. First twin is anterior. Textbook. Zayne’s gloves are slick, but his hold is perfect. The baby slips into his hands — screaming. He wraps, clears, breathes. Then glances up at you, and — for half a second — his breath stutters. One down. One more.

The Birth (Second Twin):This one’s trickier. Breech. Zayne’s hands move with silent grace, guiding you, shifting your hips, protecting you from the risk. It’s intense. It’s dangerous. But he handles it like a master. The second baby arrives blue. He doesn’t panic. Just acts. Clears airway. Stimulates. Waits — cry. Only then does his chest move again.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He meets them at the door. Calm. Precise. These are his colleagues — people he trusts. He listens to every reading, watches every movement. They confirm what he already knows: vitals are steady. No signs of immediate risk. He should transfer you. He planned to. But then you look at him — raw, pleading, exhausted. And he recalculates. “We’ll monitor here. Twelve-hour window. I’ll oversee everything myself.” He’s already wrapping you and the twins in fresh blankets, resetting the monitors. His voice is steady. His posture sure. But his hand doesn’t leave yours. He’s not just responsible. He’s personally invested. In this. In you. In all three lives now resting in his hands.

Confession:He speaks only when you touch his wrist. “I’ve never been this scared.” A beat. “And I didn’t let myself feel it. Until now.” Another pause. “You and them — you’re the only variables I can’t solve. And I think I’m okay with that.”

How He Is With You After: Meticulous. Attentive. Understated. Charts feed schedules. Tracks sleeping patterns. Never wakes you if he can help it. Takes night shifts. Warms bottles. Still quiet. Still reserved. But touches you more often now — almost absently. A thumb to your wrist. A hand at your back. Like he can’t not.

What’s Changed? Something in him has shifted — quietly, irreversibly. He was a man of logic. Now he’s a man of you. He doesn’t smile often — but when he looks at the twins, something in his eyes softens in a way he can’t quite explain. And every time you cry — from exhaustion, or joy, or pain — he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Tell me what to fix.” Even if he knows he never could. Because he’ll try anyway. For as long as you’ll let him.

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acid-ixx · 6 months ago

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i would not survive wayne manor if i had to stare into dick's y/n blue orbs everyday

stop looking at me with those eyes! (again &. again mini drabble)

ft. post-kidnapped reader w/ yandere batfam shitpost

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

thank u for sending this oh my god, i need to write about this!!! i absolutely love your art style for the reader, they're so handsome i'm crying and laughing 😭😭😭 and it's true!!! i will also die if i look at the entire family's eyes as a filipino who has never once stared at a foreigner's eyes because it's just so bright huhu.

unfortunately for your case though, your refusal to look straight at them just translates to extra unwanted counseling sessions with the family in one of the large expanses of the living rooms housing the available members for a meeting. it's a whole gathering where you're the center of attention.

and it's not only dick involved, it's also all the other blue-eyed bastards and an additional glowering, pair of green ones which shines the brightest of them all— and if not for cass and duke's dark colored peepers, you might've truly passed away because it's no joke that their eyes glint under the light passing through locked windows, especially when the sun is at its highest peak and hits at just the right angles to glisten.

not only have you no physical escape, but their obsessed stares never leave your form too, devouring and locking you whole in your place and claustrophobic to the chains of their bright-orbed gaze.

"(name), dear, as much as you don't wish for me to address the issue; it's becoming an unhealthy habit that you refuse to maintain eye contact with the family. it doesn't help that your heart palpitates, you perspire more often, and you make excuses to run to a different room when you do. what's wrong?"

you don't even have to look up from staring at your lap (as if you want to, hah!) to know it's your father's voice directed at you. it's a unique tremor that reverberates across the room and commands attention from all corners; yet when he speaks to you, it's coated with an unhealthily sweet reverence that seems completely foreign to someone who has never once spoken to him until now.

"u-uhm..." stuttering, you bite your lip, drowning in your own self-preservation that had you ignoring dick's stealthy steps to your seated body on the couch, only for his fingers to carefully graze on your chin, snapping you out of your attention yet being too late as he lifts your head up, forcing to stare at his wide-blown eyes.

they're unnaturally bright today, shining more than the beaches in those private islands bruce owns, it's even more terrifying that he's staring at you.

"it's unfair too... baby bird, that it's me you avoid the most," he groans, it grates at your ears but it was better to focus on your other senses if you wish to control the ever-living fear of miley cyrus' blue eyes burned right into your retina, now associated with dick's emboldened ones. his palms find its way to either side of your head, cradling it side to side, the contact forced you to continue staring ahead of him. and no matter how much you resort to blanking out, the intensity of his baby blue eyes forfeits you to focus on anything else.

yet it's the gentle graze on your side that encourages you to speak your mind, you really hate how infantilizing this entire scene feels, and comical that they're - dick - is taking your excuses too seriously.

"ah... well—" how do you explain that you're shit at eye-contact because, first, and can't deal with their luminescent stares pinning you down to your spot, brighter than diamonds and emerald crystals, second?

"everyone's just too... you know. i- i really can't explain without it sounding... uhm..."

"too overwhelming? too what? akhi/akhti? it has been years since we last took you in, and you've been perfectly communicating with us until now. what has changed? has that rebel, todd, dare to make another deal with you again which involves refusing to properly communicate with us? with me? because if he did—"

damian's voice slithers with conviction, condemnation and possessive threats that strike fear into your heart with every venom-laced word. if not for his head nuzzling into the shadows of your neck, the dichotomy of dialogue and action, you would've been convinced he's out to kill you instead.

yet the same gremlin muttering insults is your little brother who takes the entire space beside you on the velvety couch, rendering you completely cornered by his expecting glare. except now, unlike the mental torment he subjected to you, his green-eye gaze glimmers with concealed adoration you've learned to discern, he's always been a heckler for your attention; the tan hands wrapped around your waist in a snuggle tightens, not too tight that it deprives you of oxygen, but demands your answers instead.

like father, like son. as the saying goes. always finding solutions with unwanted affection. couldn't even push them away without them interpreting your actions as rebellion which only results in more uncomfortable competitions on who gets to cuddle you for longer.

and wait, no, they didn't take you in, bullshit! they basically kidnapped you. it's only that you've grown accustomed to dealing with them individually and as a group, but because they've been more lenient with technology, providing you access to wifi with supervised search results, you stumbled across one of , which not-so faintly reminds you of them.

your past traumas of them replaced with jaded motivation to survive and tolerate the ever living plague in your life you call your family.

bruce did advise you to associate them with positive things instead as a first step to your adjusting phase, and miley cyrus' anthropoidal, not-quite human stare isn't negative in any way, yet it's also by no means negative, if not unsettling— which leads you to a common ground, a common affiliation which helps you cope with the fear that they might harm you and isolate you with loneliness even further; forgetting your presence once again.

learning to love them was hard, so relating them to anything comical was way easier on the still-heavy burden in your heart which yearns for freedom burned off through countless of escape attempts, the grief of your mother's death now decades worth, and just the shock of it all that they're still interested in you until now that hasn't worn off still, despite the years passing by quicker than blowing off a candle-light.

still, everyone retains their gaze on you, never once breaking contact with your form as if you're capable of escaping their grasp. you try to look down, but to no avail, dick was too invested in hogging your head all to himself and nuzzling it in his toned stomach, whilst damian refuses to separate from his ever tightening hold which renders you unable to full grasp your thoughts and speak.

god-damned hypocrites.

"holy shit..." it's tim who broke off the silence, muttering under his breath in disbelief whilst his hand fiddles with the modded tablet bruce had given you as a christmas gift. his lanky finfers continue scrolling eyes fixated on the scene before him, every expression illuminated by the faint glow of your tablet's screen. the most visible feature, gazing at him through whichever was left of your vision unobstructed by dick's body; was of course, his widening blue eyes, as it seems like he'd hit jackpot with his appalled reactions.

it seems like he found the exact same picture.

would it be a bad thing now if you'd run away from the room once they all collectively hone in on the image before them? or is it too risky of a task?

honestly, with just how routine your life must be right now, you'd prefer to run, to feel the air run through your hair, to bask in the sun washing your body in its warmth.

maybe to find unbidden joy in another game of cat and mouse, or it may be another one of your excuses to avoid those piercing eyes once more if even by just a mere fraction.

or maybe you could stay for now, because is it just you, or did you actually succeed in traumatizing them for once instead of you?

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seelestia · 3 months ago

Text

✧ a healer's touch.

although more than capable of healing himself, mydeimos finds no harm in seeking out medical help for convenience — and when he does, it's almost always and only from you. { 1.2k words }

#STARRING. mydei & healer!reader (gn).

#GENRE. slice of life, fluff, established friendship with feelings.

#NOTES. set pre-3.1, mentions of a minor injury & treating it (pls forgive inaccuracies!), one brief instance of close proximity, mentions of phainon as a tool of banter which leads to jealous mydei, reader is a bit of a gremlin & a tease.

#THOUGHTS. my first try writing for amphoreus charas and it's mydei !!! :-) bcs the concept of him w/ a healer!reader is so hdhshfhs. this was also supposed to be shorter but i got carried away. pls enjoy reading this short drabble! 𖹭

✶ masterlist.

Befitting of the Kremnoan pride he bears, it comes off as no surprise that MYDEI’s gaze is closely accompanied by smoldering heat that can scald those who dare to catch a mere glimpse.

But as he stands before you now with a hand over his wounded flesh, whatever flame that persistently lingers ablaze within his sunset eyes seems to have faded into something else... something more akin to avoidance.

Avoiding your gaze, more specifically.

At this point, the entrance to your small clinic might as well be considered a close friend of Mydei’s thanks to the many times he has paid this place a visit. For as often as his feet have stepped here though, it still gets annoyingly difficult to take even a single step inside when you're looking at him like that.

“This is the third time this week,” you let out a deep sigh. You aren't a fool. Obviously, the smooth cut of his injury and the prior ruckus you heard outside point to one thing: another argument-turned match between him and Phainon over... anything, really.

The disappointment in your voice doesn't bother to conceal itself and its presence alone is enough to cause the mighty warrior to flinch slightly. He doesn't question why the thought of disappointing you stings almost as much as his wounds do.

The pen in your hand has been put down, scribbled footnotes about patients are set aside, and your mind forsakes your papers in favor of addressing the looming presence at your door. Looming in appearance but not so much in attitude with the way he still refuses to look you in the eye.

"...I know,” Mydei grumbles. No resistance and no hostility, only acknowledgement towards this particular lecture of yours that he has heard several times before.

“I might have to start using webs as gauzes in the future,” you shake your head. “You and Phainon are going to be the reason I'll run low on medical supplies one of these days.”

This time, he frowns—a fearsome sight, if it weren't for how familiar you are with it in less than fearsome settings—not at you but at the issue proposed by your statement. Mydei glances around to scan your workspace and although it lasts briefly, his conclusion seems firm as he finally looks you in the eyes.

“...I'll bring it up with Aglaea next time,” he crosses his arms against his chest. Carefully, of course. Even with immortality running through his veins and his gradual numbness to the prickly touch of pain, he still can't risk getting a sharp glare from you for being inconsiderate towards his “bodily misery”.

There are times you think that Mydei can be considerate in his own way, though. Just like right now. “Oh, I jest,” you can't help the way your eyes soften around the edges. “I still have leftover supplies from the last time you did that. I'd rather not trouble her again.”

“Well then,” you quickly usher him to the empty chair near your desk before any sort of protest can escape from his mouth. “Allow me to take a look?”

He clicks his tongue—either at your act of rushing him or refusing his offer or both of them—but doesn't protest. Taking a step forward is already enough to indicate his agreement. One, two, three, four. . . exactly four steps from the doorway to reach the empty chair, a rhythm that Mydei doesn't even realize he's gotten used to.

You don't waste time getting to work as soon as he takes a seat. Following your routine, your eyes meticulously examine the wound on his skin to assess its qualities. The silence doesn't have the opportunity to stretch long as you pipe up with a particularly, frequently asked question.

“So, who won this time?” you hum as your hands deftly grab a few items off your shelf, moving on to cleaning his wound.

“Ha, as if you even need to ask,” Mydei proclaims haughtily. It's never not amusing to witness his inherent boldness resurface... after getting nagged, that is.

“Let me guess. Phainon won?” you deduce, but it's less of a deduction and more of an attempt to get on Mydei's nerves. The offended look he gives you afterwards is the exact reward you wish for.

“Don't try to be funny—” he shoots you a scowl, then hisses when you dab a damp washcloth to the area around his wound.

“Worth a try,” you smile amusedly before offering him a small apology. There is a tinge of guilt in your conscience for not giving him a heads-up about it. Cries of pain are never a melody to a healer's ears, after all. You direct your focus back to cleaning his injury, your movements more gentle: “Thankfully, your wound this time isn't as deep as your usual ones. The bleeding is also lessening faster than normal which I assume to be your ability at work,” you observe out loud.

“...Just say it's a curse,” he sighs. “No need to sugarcoat it, healer.”

“Different interpretations,” you counter.

“Whatever,” he relents, an indifference that is betrayed by his flushing cheeks. Hm, is it the heat? You're very sure all the windows in your clinic are ajar, though.

“Let me take one more look,” you scooch a little closer to inspect his injury again. The sudden shift in proximity effectively throws Mydei's senses into overdrive. He can quite literally smell the fragrance that sticks to your clothes with you this close. It only lasts for a few moments, however, and it's when you pull away that he realizes he's been holding his breath.

“Hey, you look like you're burning up,” you frown as you give him his space back. “A wound accompanied by a fever could indicate—”

“I'm fine,” his response is hastier than he would've preferred. Not enough to preserve the pieces of dignity he feels he has lost just now, but he can pick them up just fine.

“Alright then, would you like a kiss after?”

(Now, he really has to pick those pieces back up with his own bare hands.)

“I— what?”

Mydei looks at you as if you've lost your mind, as if the black tide has materialized out of nowhere to help you accomplish that.

“After I wrap up your wound,” you explain, trying your utmost best not to keel over from laughter right then and there. You know what you're doing. “Children ask me for them all the time. Says it helps with their recovery.”

Mydei can't even choose which aspect of this absolute incredulity he should address first: the logic (or lack thereof) in the sentence itself or the sheer audacity you have to ask him that. Amidst his loss for a response he deems proper, the only thing he can manage to utter is this: “Never suggest something so preposterous ever again.”

You ignore the horror in his voice in favor of fueling the flames a little more. “Not even to Phainon?” you ask, just a tiny bit goading.

“Especially him,” he snarls, “unless you want me to hurl him at death's door myself.”

“Duly noted.”

Ironically, Mydeimos thinks you are going to be the death of him someday. If that's even possible.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

— THANK YOU FOR READING! another reminder: please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

#hsr x reader #mydei x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mydei x you #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #seelestial.inks

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beloveds-embrace · 7 months ago

Note

rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind

Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble

• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.

• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.

• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.

• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3

• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.

• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.

• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.

• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.

• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.

• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.

• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”

• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.

• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.

• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.

• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.

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bambiihee · 3 months ago

Note

college tutor jake drabble 👅👅 (as a struggling college student i need to be railed by him so bad)

AFTER CLASS! 심재윤

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ NSFW + MDNI! sim jaeyun x fem!reader ⸝⸝⸝ college au, nerd!jake, popular!reader, switch!jake, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, failed pull out, mentions contraception and birth control, creampies, dirty talk, slight breeding kink

[notes༚] this is bad. but i am practicing with writing off the cuff pwp again after not writing it for a while so my skills are rusty lol. not proofread, let me know of any mistakes!

There was no way this could actually be happening. Jake had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or somehow he had slipped into a coma— something, anything that would explain how you were on top of him, but your warm, sweaty skin feels awfully real under his greedy, groping hands.

he can’t stop himself from feeling you up, gabbing and squeezing fat handfuls of your ass as it shakes in his face; he’s been fantasizing about fucking you since he first laid eyes on you, two long years of yearning and being convinced that he would never get to. you were popular, a cheerleader, the life of the party… and he was just some nerd in a few of your classes. You never even looked his way.

Or so he thought.

Not only did you look at him, you approached him, and asked him to tutor you in your shared mathematics class— he was over the moon.

And now you were naked in his lap, textbooks and papers tossed carelessly onto his bedroom floor, sliding your dripping wet cunt up and down the shaft of his fat, throbbing cock. your hand looks so tiny wrapped around him, pretty nails looking so lewd covered in his precum.

“Do you want me to put it in, Jakey?” you look over your shoulder to coo at him sweetly, melodic voice like honeyed venom.

“O-oh, fuck.” Jake whimpers, his thick framed glasses fogging up from how hard he was panting. “Please! Oh my God, please, please—“

You giggle, delighting in how you’ve already fucked him stupid before you’ve even slid it in. “Alright, but you have to promise not to cum inside of me, alright? I’m not on the pill.”

The thought makes his head swirl. That pretty little pussy you keep flashing in his face is better than any porn he’s ever seen, and to see it creamy and leaking his cum? “O-okay…” he agrees unsteadily, not in the slightest bit confident in his pull out skills.

tortorously slowly do you align his tip to your entrance, blunt bulbous cockhead stretching your pussy lips wide apart to dip into your fluttering hole—

And stop. You shoot him an evil little smile, your eyes dark and daring, and you keep your hips completely still.

Jake just can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hips and tugs you backward, roughly sitting you on his cock in one fluid motion. your pussy’s so wet he slides in without resistance, impaling you impossibly deep. He swore he could feel himself knocking against your belly button.

The shriek you let out is ungodly, a beautiful broken cry that makes Jake's cock twitch. The sensation has you clenching down around him, whimpering as you try to adjust to his size.

“s-so fucking big!” you keen, your eyes rolling back in your head and your mouth dropping open into a perfect ‘o’, “s-so— ah!— it’s so deep, Jakey!”

“Shhh.” Jake soothes you, surprisingly strong arms holding you tight and beginning to bounce you up and down on his cock. His hips thrust up to meet you halfway every time, the force sending shockwaves of red hot pleasure through the both of you. Your pussy makes a filthy wet squelching sound every time your hips meet, drenching his lap in your juices. “Shhh, just take it.”

He pounds you relentlessly, his quick, rough pace never stuttering or slowing down. Your pussy feels like heaven, wet gummy walls squeezing around his throbbing cock and sucking him in deeper and deeper, like it was feeling greedy and begging for more.

“F-feels so f-fuckin’ good,” he whimpers, broad chest shaking with his unsteady breath, “I-I— ah, ah, ah! Fffuckk!”

You squeeze around him purposefully, peeking over your shoulder to watch his face as he loses himself in pleasure. His foggy glasses had slid down to the very tip of his broad nose, threatening to fall off.

When his eyes refocus, they meet yours, and the crooked, devious grin that stretches across his face makes your stomach flip.

Without warning his arm shoots up and grabs you by the back of the neck, shoving your face into the mattress. You’re bent completely over on all fours, spread open and immobilized while he jackhammers up into you. “L-love this pussy~” he moans, his words quickly losing meaning with his brains leaking out of his ears.

Your noises are muffled by the blankets, but Jake’s pretty sure they weren’t words anyway— just broken moans and mindless babbling. Your cunt pulsates around him, slick walls molding to every vein and curve, the pleasure of his cockhead bumping against your cervix pulling pathetic little whimpers from his plump lips that grow louder and louder as his ecstasy builds. He’s never felt pleasure quite like this before, so delicious and intense that it was bordering on overstimulating— his orgasm barrels towards him at an alarming speed, a familiar heat coiling deep in his belly far too soon for his liking.

“i-i’m— ngh! Fuck, i’m gonna—“

His climax hits him before he can even the sentence, only able to pull out halfway before ultimately spilling all of his seed inside your pussy. He watches, transfixed, as it begins to leak from your abused little hole, but he can feel your angry glare on him.

“Sorry...” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

“You’re buying me the warning after pill.” You reply grumpily.

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen jake #jake x reader #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #jake smut #enhypen #enha smut

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inthekitschen · 3 months ago

Text

How they wake up with you | TKDB Boys x gn!reader

Let me know if you guys like the use of their chapter title monikers, I think it's fun but if y'all think it's confusing I'll add their names in future drabbles!

Also sorry that some are shorter than others, I tried to keep them approximately the same length!

Frostheim

The King pulls you in closer, refusing to let you go. Are you busy today? Not anymore. And how can you say no with his nose buried in the crook of your neck?

The King's Advisor observes you, committing you to memory. He traces the curve of your lips with his eyes and listens to the sound of your soft breathing.

The Knight kisses you awake, cradling your cheek. He waits until your eyes finally flutter open to ask if you slept well.

The Archer doesn't dare wake you up. He memorizes this moment, wondering when his luck turned around to allow him in the same bed as you. He knows that the clock will strike twelve soon enough. But until you're out of his reach, he intends to make the most of it.

Vagastrom

The Ex-Con lets you sleep. He gets up for his morning run, making sure to be extra quiet so as to not wake you. Before he finally slips out the door, he watches you curl into what little warmth he left behind, and writes you a note. Be back soon, love you. You already know the routine, already know he loves you. But he'll spend forever reminding you, as long as you let him.

The Influencer takes a photo of you curled into each other. If you ever find it, he'll tell you it’s blackmail. For now, the photo goes in his secret folder filled with similar shots — all reminders that you chose him.

The Rider has to get ready. He has things to do, and really should try to untangle himself from you. But you're persistent in your sleep, wrapped around him, and the only way to free himself is to wake you. Instead, he settles back in and closes his eyes. The world can wait ten more minutes.

Jabberwock

The Ranger wakes up with too much energy, you always say. He's already dressed and raring to go for the day by the time you're sitting down for coffee. You tell him to go on, and you'll catch up later. He runs out the door, but not before planting a million kisses all over your face.

The Free Spirit holds you close, never letting go. You wake up in a field to him placing flowers in your hair. When he notices you're awake, he grins, nuzzling into you again.

The Slacker sleeps for as long as he can. His nose buried in the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you. It isn't until you tell him that clown is yelling for him that he groans. The vibration against your neck makes you laugh, and he holds you tighter. The clown can wait.

Sinostra

The Gambler will stay in bed with you all day if you let him. He holds you, nipping at your skin, listening to your soft noises. It isn't until the Sniper bursts in, yelling at him to GTHU, that he finally rolls out of bed. Keep it warm for him, Kitty-Cat. He'll be back soon.

The Sniper has places to be. He wakes up with his alarm, easily slipping out of your arms. He's about to snap at you to get up so he can make the bed when he sees you rise, yawning as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. You have dark circles, get some more rest.

The Paralegal also wakes up with his alarm, ready for the day. You know there's no use in asking him to lay with you a little longer (you've already used the extra five minutes he delegated for morning cuddling), so you get up as well, taking the coffee he prepared for you with a warm smile.

Hotarubi

The Actor tries his best not to wake you as he gets ready. When you stir awake, he gives a hushed apology, interrupted by you bringing him in for a soft kiss.

The Flutist wakes to your gaze already on him. Isn't he supposed to be the one fawning over you, Princess? He begins to rise, pausing when you ask him to stay a little longer. As you wish.

The Poet writes a new line for every time the sun rises upon the two of you together. One day, he'll put pen to paper to record them all. But for now, no metaphor could capture the warmth of your embrace.

Obscuary

The Vampire doesn't sleep. Instead, he watches you. Sure, he could close his eyes and rest with you, but with the fleeting moments of human existence, he would rather look at you for as long as possible.

The Reaper lays his head on your chest, feeling it rise and fall, listening to your heartbeat. You're here. You're his. Before his curse was broken, he would already be up by now, hanging the laundry and watering the plants. But now, he has a reason to stay in bed.

The Werewolf buries his nose in your hair, taking in your scent as you stir. He'll grumble when you leave the bed, following you to get ready with you.

Mortkranken

The Doctor wakes to the smell of coffee and the feeling of your lips against his temple. He fell asleep at his desk again. He rubs under his eyes, his heart tightening in his chest as you give him another kiss before taking your leave. Tonight, he'll join you in bed. He'll make up for the nights he made you sleep alone.

The Monster rises quickly, not wanting to lose any time. He'll likely have to wake up the Doctor, but for a moment, he watches you sleep. He leans down and presses his lips to yours before leaving.

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mercurial-chuckles · 1 year ago

Text

✨ I'm super grateful you stopped by ✨

Requests are open! | Wanna be tagged?

Join the SMUTTY SEPTEMBER FEST/SMUT-BER FEST🥳🥵❤️Check out the MASTERLIST of all the stories for Smutty September Fest

Grace's Weaving Wonderful Writers Society | Read the Columns | Read Grace's Gazettes

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Delirious Decisions

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner Credits to me. Photo Credits to the internet. Thank you :)

Just FYI: Masterlist is undergoing major editing!

Updated: January 25, 2025

Indulge Away!

Don't Flip your Wig, Steve

Steve and you time traveled. Your Steve is not happy meeting the old Steve because he shows interest in you.

His Fiore

Steve smexy Rogers moves into the neighborhood, and one evening, he catches you sneaking into the building opposite his through the fire escape. He watches curiously, slightly amused and, quite frankly, amazed by you. Guess what he does next? He writes a note, signs it with his middle name, Grant, and slips it under your door. How will you discover that Grant is none other than Captain America?

Love's Sanctity

Steve is there when you feel like you're falling apart, when the weight of stress becomes overwhelming. He sees right through you and always knows exactly what to do to make you feel better.

Berserk Captain Rogers

Steve has gone feral, and you are the only one who can calm him

Subdue

Alpha!Steve is giving a preview on what happens when someone dares to harm his mate.

Drugged Delusion of Mrs. Rogers

Some angsty goodness with the misunderstanding arc, and Steve fucking the misunderstanding out of you.

Wise Men Say

100-word drabble for Flash Fiction challenge

Not so Vanilla Man

Steve proves to you he is far from Vanilla. You catch my drift? This is just overloaded fluffiest smut. (My first attempt at Smut! :D)

Fortuitous Fate

You travel to the 40s, and meet Steve Rogers. That meeting marks important in their journey

Havenbrooke Trails

To finish your novel, you go to Havenbrooke for inspiration on the insistence of your editor. However, you find more than some inspiration for your novel there.

Oblivious Heart

Summary to be written

Hide 'N' Boink

Summary to be written

Drugged Courage

Steve gets drugged on a mission and inhales sex pollen, but no one notices any difference as he is very impassive. He has been craving y/n, and he takes her to his quarters as soon as he returns from the mission.

A Tale of Timely Interventions

You were sent on a mission in the 40s. It was highly unusual, and you play a bigger role in Captain America's life than you can even remotely comprehend. You also had no clue that Steve Rogers feels strongly for you. (Final Part Jan, 2025)

Snowed In

You were not supposed to be on that mission, but you were, and it was a trap. There was also a snowstorm, and you were stuck. Steve is furious when he learns about this and goes to lengths to reach you.

Starlord Ruffles Steve's Feathers

Steve jealous of Peter Quill flirting with you.

Captain's Boinking Escapades

Guess what Tony has found!

Crimson Tranquility

There is more to your husband than meets the eye.

Giddy Affairs

A congressman drabble!

On the qui vive

A fluffy drabble (ft. mafia!Bucky)

Yield to me

A fluffy drabble (ft. adventurous Alpine)

Strings

Bucky's housewife kink gets activated!

Pluvial Kisses!

Tooth rotting fluff, Bucky being the absolute fuckin dream of a man! *heavy sigh*

Catharsis

Summary to be drafted

The Time Thor Third-Wheeled

The title sums about it!

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

I really need to draft a summary for this. :D

Enlivened Mornings

Summary to be drafted

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Dad!Bucky fic set in the Sappy Sunday Thought universe.

Your Restive Man

This is a simple fluffy blurb. Clingy Bucky who cannot stay apart from you.

Stranded & Succored

You were having a bad day and decided to drive to calm your nerves. However, you get stranded in the middle of nowhere with no phone. And this tall, gorgeous man is pulling up in his truck and claiming your heart and body.

Wish Come True

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction challenge

Stucky x Reader | Steve x Reader x Bucky

Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender Vignettes

Collection of oneshots set in a universe.

Unwaveringly Homebound

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction Challenge

I met them, and now I'm their queen

Angsty fluff & confessions to get it off their chest before the new year starts.

Half-baked, damn

Easy peasy, sweetheart. They’d said. It’s for the people. They’d said.

Permanence (F!Reader version)

Love transcends time.

Permanence (OFC version)

Love transcends time.

Sneaky & Sly

A blue hoodie, a sly man, and domesticated bliss

Blissful Summer Bruises

Some domesticated bliss with two hot super soldiers

The Pantry Affairs

A day in your life with two extremely wonderful and protective men

The Curious Affairs of Mr. Holmes

Waltz Into My Heart

This is the chaos corner. I'm still figuring out an efficient way to organize these. So, don't mind the mumble jumble.

Flash Fiction Challenge

Weeklong Thingamajig

SMUTTY SEPTEMBER FEST

ASKS

Alpha Steve

Blissful Adventures of Mr. Softly Stern & Mr. Toughly Tender

Bucky QuotesJust Wondering 01 Wanna be Tagged?

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vylosinbound · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii<333

If requests are open, can you write drabble of Obey me bros + Diavolo (if that's okay) × fem! Shy Reader.

She's kind of shy at first and doesn't talk much until she gets comfortable to those around her and open up more about herself, etc.

If not interested, it's totally fine<33

Thank you in advance<<333

Thank you so much for your request, it was honestly such a pleasure to work on it! I made sure to keep the softness and a tiny bit of suggestiveness ♡

I'm so happy you trusted me with your idea! Hope you’ll enjoy it! Feel free to request again anytime!

Delicate hearts:

The brothers' and Diavolo with a shy MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor + Diavolo

Genre: Soft Romance / Fluff / Slightly suggestive / Comfort / Tender moments / Female MC

MC is shy and needs time to open up. At first, they speak very little and get embarrassed easily, but once they start to feel safe with them, they slowly begin to act more confident. Some interactions may become a little more intimate, but always in a natural and gentle way!

LUCIFER

At first, Lucifer had only observed you quietly from behind his desk, the way you avoided his eyes, how your voice turned breathless when you answered him.

It amused him, the way you shrank under his authority, but a part of him... a darker, greedier part... wanted more.

Wanted you to stop flinching and start needing him.

It happened slowly.

One evening, you approached him in his study, papers in hand, but instead of placing them on his desk, you stepped close, so close your scent curled into his senses.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You stood there, biting your lip, before daring to lift your gaze to his. "Lucifer... can I stay with you for a while?" The restraint in him snapped like a taut string.

Without a word, he stood, towering over you. His gloved hand slid under your chin, tilting your face upward.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice a molten rumble, "how long I've waited for you to come to me like this."

The kiss he pressed to your forehead was deceptively gentle, a warning of everything he was holding back.

MAMMON

Mammon always noticed how you clung to the edges of the room when you first arrived, nervous, quiet, eyes darting away when he caught you looking.

It killed him a little inside, honestly.

"Why's she actin' like I'm scary or somethin'...?" he'd mutter under his breath, watching you with a soft, confused frown.

He wanted to be close to you so badly, but he was terrified of spooking you.

But today was different. You came up to him, tugging gently at his sleeve, your fingers barely grazing his jacket. "Mammon... can I hold onto you for a bit?" you whispered, voice trembling with courage. Mammon stared like you'd just flipped his world upside down.

"Wha—? Yeah! I mean, yeah, 'course, c'mere!" In a heartbeat, he scooped you up against his chest, strong arms wrapping you up completely. You could feel his heart racing under your cheek.

"D-dumb human," he mumbled, his hands stroking your back with surprising tenderness, "ya don’t gotta ask... ya can hold onto me as long as ya want." He tried so hard to act cool, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched, like he was desperate.

"Y'can't just look at me like that and not expect me to do somethin' about it..." he muttered, words hot against the crown of your head.

He hugged you tighter, like he was afraid you'd slip away.

LEVIATHAN

Levi couldn't deal with how you were so shy around him, skittering like a startled rabbit whenever he spoke too loudly or got too close. Part of him wanted to curl into a ball and die from guilt...The other part wanted to earn your trust so badly it made his chest ache.

And then one evening, as he streamed quietly in his room, you shuffled over, blanket in hand, cheeks burning. "Levi... c-can I sit with you?" You didn’t wait for an answer, you just tucked yourself beside him, snuggling under his arm.

Levi’s brain completely blue-screened. "M-MC... you're gonna kill me..." he stuttered, voice cracking.

But he didn’t push you away. Instead, he trembled slightly, wrapping the blanket around you both, with barely contained excitement.

You nuzzled into his side, and Levi squeezed his eyes shut, savoring the feeling like it was the greatest loot drop of his life. He let out a choked noise halfway between a whimper and a sob, curling his trembling fingers shyly around yours, feeling like he was about to pass out from happiness.

SATAN

Satan noticed everything,the way your voice softened around him, the way you hesitated before touching his hand, the way you seemed to hold your breath in his presence.

He wanted to be patient, to let you come to him... but sometimes, it was agonizing. He longed to see you look at him without fear.

Books surrounded the two of you, but Satan had long since stopped reading. His eyes were solely focused on you, how your fingers brushed the pages delicately, how your lips moved soundlessly as you read.

You caught him staring, and your cheeks flushed prettily.

Satan only smiled, slow and deliberate, setting his book aside. "You have no idea, do you?" he said, voice a soft purr. "How dangerous it is... to look at me like that."

He leaned forward, bracing one arm behind you, effectively trapping you against the couch. The corner of his mouth lifted in a playful smirk as he leaned in, until your noses almost brushed.

"Careful, kitten. I might not be able to resist if you keep tempting me like this."

But he didn’t kiss you, not yet. He let you feel the heat between you first, savoring the way you trembled under his gaze.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus adored your shyness, it was delicious, it made him want to coax every little sweet reaction from you. But he was careful, never pushing too hard, always waiting for you to bloom on your own terms.

Still, he dreamed of the day you would run into his arms willingly.

"Darling, you’re blushing again..." Asmo teased gently, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. He adored how shy you were, how easily he could make your heart race with a single look.

Leaning closer, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with maddening softness.

"You know," he murmured, voice dripping honey, "you really shouldn’t make yourself look so delicious if you don't want to be eaten up."

You squeaked, pulling back instinctively, but Asmo only laughed, warm, fond. He leaned in again, this time pressing a teasing kiss just under your jawline, grinning when he felt you shiver.

"Mmm, adorable. I could worship you forever, my sweet MC."

BEELZEBUB

Beel always watched you like you were something precious. Not like food, never like that, but like a delicate treasure he was scared to break.

You sat beside him now, half-eating your snack, half-offering him bites shyly. Beel accepted every one, his large hand brushing yours intentionally longer each time.

"You're too good to me," he rumbled, voice deep and rough.

When your hands touched again, and you didn't pull away, Beel hesitated for half a second, then carefully linked his fingers with yours.

"Can I hold you, too?" he asked, voice so gentle it made your chest ache.

When you nodded shyly, Beel gathered you against him with stunning tenderness, cradling you like you were something sacred.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie noticed how you tiptoed around him at first, your natural shyness making you wary of getting too close. He found it amusing, but also a little endearing. Still, he wanted you to want him, to trust him enough to let your guard down.

You found Belphie lying on the attic couch, one arm lazily draped over his forehead.

Without a word, you climbed beside him, curling up at his side.

Belphie cracked an eye open, smirking when he saw you.

"You're bold today, MC," he teased, voice raspy with sleep. When you shyly hid your face against his chest, he chuckled low and warm.

He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left.

"Mmm... you’re soft... perfect," he mumbled against your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

His hands drifted slowly up and down your spine, lazy and possessive, as if memorizing the shape of you in his arms.

DIAVOLO

At first, Diavolo had kept his distance out of respect, he saw how easily your cheeks colored, how small you seemed when you stood beside him. It stirred something primal inside him, something he barely managed to keep leashed.

You hadn't meant to end up alone with Diavolo in the palace garden, but here you were, seated on a low stone bench, drinking one of the best teas Barbatos could make as the prince towered over you, laughing softly. Some time had passed, and you were definitely more confident.

"You're trembling," he observed, tilting his head curiously. You flushed harder, unable to meet his golden eyes.

Diavolo knelt down in front of you, massive hands resting lightly on your knees. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, voice thick and warm.

Leaning in closer, his hand brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips ghosting along your jawline.

"But you should know..." he whispered, his mouth so close you could feel the heat of it, "when you look at me like that, you make it very, very hard to behave."

He didn't touch you more than that, not yet, but the heavy, heated look he gave you said everything he didn’t.

#obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #satan obey me #simeon #headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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delirious-donna · 4 months ago

Text

While You Were Sleeping [Blue Lock]

an: it’s been a hot minute since I did a multi character drabble, but here we are in 2025 and I love too many Blue Lock characters just to write about one at a time 🤭

premise: a good night’s sleep is not always a given, so how do they react when their sleep is interrupted?

featuring: Barou Shouei, Itoshi Sae, Nagi Seishiro, Oliver Aiku & Tokimitsu Aoshi

warnings: female reader, pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie, woman (it’s affectionate I swear)), lots of fluff, hurt/comfort, a lil angst, not full NSFW but suggestive in places, mentions of nightmares, fear of infidelity, confused feelings, Sae being emotionally constipated, lots of cuteness (I hope 🥹)

Shouei grunted.

His brow scrunched as the sleep he had been luxuriating in began to recede. No matter how desperately he grasped at it, the threads slipped through his fingers until—thump!

An intense pain against his shin woke him.

The room was pitch black with no noise from passing traffic but there was a whimpering coming from the right of his body. Blinking, he twisted onto his side and the irritation that had been building in his chest dissipated almost immediately.

Your face greeted him.

A face he loved, cherished and adored above all others, but it was twisted into a grimace. He watched as your lips wobbled though your eyes were screwed tightly shut. Even with the limited light source he could make out the sheen of sweat covering your skin, and he reached out a hand to cup your cheek only to be kicked once more.

“Fuck! Christ… I’m meant to be the striker in this relationship,” he muttered vehemently from beneath his breath, palm furiously rubbing at the spot you had brutally attacked.

When you curled tighter into a ball, damn near trembling, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

Shouei reached out for you once more. “Baby… wake up.”

Your body relaxed into his touch, cheek nuzzling his rough palm like it was a comfort to be sought out. The corner of his lips quirked at the adorable display, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew what was causing you such distress.

“C’mon, come back to me,” he coaxed and finally adding a please when you seemed intent on refusing to rouse for him.

“Shou’—wassamatter?”

Goddammit, that shouldn’t make his heart flutter.

The sleep laced confused tone of your voice tugged at his heartstrings until the man known as the villain of the pitch was practically twittering like a love sick songbird.

“—thought you might tell me. You’ve been kicking the shit outta me for the past ten minutes. What’s going on?” he asked, softening his tone when your face flushed.

You burrowed into the pillow, fingers pulling the covers up to your chin and he had to fight to pull them back again. “Don’t go getting shy on me, woman.”

Huffing and puffing, you bit your lip but relented.

“It’s silly,” you whispered, only to be met with one sleek black eyebrow raised in coercion. He wasn’t going to let this go. “… was dreaming that some girls were hitting on you after a match,” you admitted grumpily, pouting out your bottom lip.

Barou snorted. It was just like you to be having a bad dream where your reaction was to fight back. That was his girl. His precious treasure.

Without warning he wrapped you up with his thickly muscled arms, drawing you into the centre of his chest where his heart thundered like a drum.

“No girl would dare. Not when you’ve got that kinda kick on you,” he teased with a gruff chuckle.

All you could do was cling to him; fingers digging into the meat of his back and shoulders like he was an anchor you needed to keep you sane. Your eyes shut slowly, soothed by the rumbling laughter in his throat. You trusted him implicitly so why did tears prick your eyes?

“Y’know I’d never entertain that shit, yeah? Got the only girl worth a damn right here in my arms, in my bed, in my… heart.”

You hiccuped, smiling into his skin and drinking in the cedarwood scent of his soap. Your fingers combed through the luscious length of his hair, humming contentedly as your heart lightened.

“It’s a big game tomorrow; the King needs his sleep. Cuddle me and keep me from assaulting those dumb girls in my dreams again.”

Shouei was more than happy to oblige.

Sae was not accustomed to being unable to accomplish something once he set his mind to it.

He was driven, self-motivated—perhaps not always for the right reasons—but he worked diligently to improve himself in all aspects that he considered important.

So why then did he find himself wide awake and silently seething?

From his seated position in the bed, he glanced down at your sleeping form. Your face relaxed, eyes fluttering as dreams no doubt coloured behind your lids, and your lips… so soft and perfectly kissable. He would blame you, but he couldn’t.

You might be the reason he was unable to find rest, but it was his lack of ability to form suitable words that irked him endlessly.

Three little words and they were lodged in his throat like an anvil in some stupid Saturday morning cartoon. You knew. He knew that you knew. Except it wasn’t the same as actually saying it, was it?

A tic worked in his jaw and as if sensing his ire, you grumbled and stretched. Cute little hands sought him out, eyes still closed but brow now knitted together when you felt for him and discerned that he was not lying down as he should be.

“Sae?”

“Hm.”

You blinked, rubbing at your eyes and shuffling closer until your head was lying in his lap. “It’s late, you should sleep.”

He agreed—wholeheartedly.

Sae looked upon you and felt the words rush through his brain at an alarming rate. Words that he couldn’t possibly voice, not yet, maybe not ever if he feared the worst.

Vulnerable was not an emotion he was used to, yet it beat against his brain. Licking across his suddenly parched lips, he mustered the ghost of a smile. It only resulted in your worried little mewl.

“It’s okay, I’m just thinking. Go back to sleep,” he said matter-of-factly.

His eyes cooled when you refused, choosing to continue the conversation he didn’t wish to engage with right now. “About what?”

A rogue thought of him grabbing you by the shoulders until your face was nose to nose with him struck across his temples like lightning. His every thought was centered on you, how could you not know?

At training.

In the shower.

When you were cuddled into his side and happily yapping about your day.

When you were chanting his name like a personal prayer, face twisted into bliss.

When he should be sleeping.

“It… it doesn’t matter. It can wait ‘til the morning.” Sae gave you no room to argue, scooting down the bed and drawing you beneath his arm. “Sleep.”

You yawned. Pretty eyes blinking up at him with that adorable little smile that only wrapped him further around your pinky finger.

“‘m gonna hold you to that, Sae.”

He made a noise in his throat and closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself for not having the strength to be completely honest with you.

Maybe tomorrow… he thought. Gods, he hoped.

Seishiro liked his sleep. Everyone knew that, and they also knew that once he was asleep it was almost impossible to wake him until he was good and ready.

That was why it was so odd that he found himself staring at the alarm clock on his bedside cabinet as it flashed a neon 3am message at him. For a moment, he simply blinked at the glow, wondering if he did it enough times that it would eventually make sense or he’d fall over again, but it was no use.

Did he need to pee? Was he thirsty? Too hot? Too cold? Need an extra pillow?

The answer to each was no, and that only made his brow furrow deeper in confusion. He moved to turn over, expecting to find your sleeping form by his side so he could drag you backwards into the embrace of his body, but he stopped short.

His fingers met only cold sheets where you should be and his heart lurched. It was three in the morning, why weren’t you in bed? And if you weren’t in bed where the hell were you?

Only now did he realise that your absence had been the catalyst to his waking. Like a comfort blanket, Nagi had long known that he slept best when he was touching some part of you and it wasn’t like you seemed to mind either. An arm over your waist. A leg between yours. His palm anchored at your chest.

Sleepily, hands rubbing at his fatigued eyes, he made his way from the bedroom to search for you. It didn’t take him long when the soft glow from beneath the living room door beckoned him forward, and he found you huddled in a blanket on the couch.

“Whatchu doing up?” he asked blearily, ignoring the little jump you gave at his sudden appearance.

“Oh—‘shiro. What are you doing up?”

Nagi frowned, rounding the couch and settling by your side until his head rested on your shoulder. “I asked you first.”

Your fingers raked through the pure snow of his hair, humming at how to word it so he wouldn’t worry but ultimately deciding on honesty.

“Nightmare,” you admitted with a subtle shrug.

“And you didn’t wake me?”

Silly man… he was like a rock once he was out. Plus, why would you want to worry him with a silly nightmare that now you were awake you could reason out it was total nonsense?

“You sleep deep, pookie… and it was silly nonsense.”

Seishiro puffed loudly through his nose, clearly unamused. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, hand raised to turn your head to fix you with those pretty, drowsy eyes. “It’s not silly or nonsense if it bothered you enough that you had to get up. Next time you have permission to dump a glass of water on me.”

Your laughter came out like a bark, and even he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“I’m serious, sweetie. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy and I refuse to be caught slacking cause I’m fast asleep,” he scolded, but mostly to himself.

His arms wound around your body, lifting you so you were cradled on his lap with your head on his shoulder this time. “Wanna talk about it or do you want me to tell you exactly how I would defeat all those nightmare monsters?”

“Oh ho, this I’ve got to hear. Go on gamer boy, tell me how you’d slay my nightmares.”

And he did, until you were both laughing and yawning, and tired enough to fall asleep entwined on the couch.

For as many nights as you had spent in Oliver’s bed, it still didn’t quite feel like you belonged. Despite your best efforts, something always kept you on guard and tonight was no different, except it was… and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Sure, things weren’t serious between you two, but the past few encounters had led you to believe that he was being even more cagey than normal.

Your gaze wandered to the dozing profile beside you, eyes lingering on the scruff along his jaw and the pretty hair that fell in that perfectly ruffled way against the pillow.

Why were you here?

The question refused to leave you alone.

When had Aiku ever invited you over and you hadn’t ended up fucking like animals? It wasn’t like you had reached out to him, oh no, you knew better than to have your hand bitten in situationships like these. He set the terms, and you were happy to follow until you got bored… or at least that had been the case with other lovers in the past.

It felt odd to be lying here in nothing but one of his match shirts and for there not to be an ache between your thighs. You weren’t exactly complaining. The movie had been one you had been meaning to watch for months, and the conversation had been easy and full of laughter, but what did it mean?

You weren’t going to lie here awake all night.

“Uhh… Aiku?” You tapped his shoulder as gently as possible, not that he even moved an inch. For a moment you simply listened to his breathing which was even and deep. Damn heavy sleeper.

Clearing your throat, you half yelled. “We need to talk.” Four words that would strike fear into the hearts of men worldwide, and it seemed that Oliver was no exception.

His alluring heterochromatic eyes blinked wide, and you smothered your laughter behind a palm. “Did you…?” He started, but you hushed him just as quickly.

You snuggled down the bed so that you were face to face, his warm breath caressing your throat and you hated how badly you wanted to kiss away that suspicious look on his stupidly handsome face.

It was impossible to resist the temptation to touch him completely, so you let your hand wander until it traced the width of his bottom lip and tickled the patch of scruff just below. You canted your head as much as the pillow would allow and blew out a breath—it was now or never.

“Why am I here?”

Aiku scrunched up his face as if you had asked the most stupid question possible. It warmed your skin, your free hand twisting into the sheets to stop yourself from visibly squirming.

He chuffed after a long moment. “The fuck you think? I like your company… that so bad?”

Oh. Well…

“Look, Aiku—this has strictly been a physical thing until tonight. You can forgive me for being a little miffed,” you huffed petulantly, mainly to cover your embarrassment.

The smug smile that stretched across his plush lips was one you were either gonna smack sideways or kiss stupid. Right now it was a 50/50 split on which way it would go.

He stretched, sleepily, lazy and all sleek strength. Goddamn him.

“Is that the problem? You didn’t get off so now you can’t sleep. Y’know I can fix that real quick, darlin’” he purred, a strong thigh forcing its way between your legs until you yipped and fixed him with a stern scowl.

“Don’t—ah—don’t deflect, Oliver!”

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Aiku flopped backwards and just as quickly he anchored those strong hands at your waist and hauled on top of him. He chuckled when you gasped and smacked at the wall of his chest.

“Hey! Alright alright…” he conceded, schooling his features into sincerity.

In the blink of two mismatched eyes your stomach dropped into your toes. His fingers traced the curve of your shoulder, collarbone, jaw. There was something different behind the teasing and you didn’t want to admit it.

“Can we… not always fuck? I like having you around, and I might sleep better when you’re here.” The last part was a near whispered admission, and it had you folding forward to drape yourself across his chest, if only to hide your face.

Your head fit perfectly beneath his chin whilst his fingers worked soothing patterns along your spine, wrinkling the shirt on your body.

“Yeah. I think we can do that.”

Panic was what woke him. The familiar thrill of terror that shot through his heart and filled his veins with adrenaline.

Sweat dripped from his hairline whilst he looked around wildly for the source of the panic. Frowning, Tokimitsu scanned the dark bedroom one more time and found nothing out of place, so why did it feel like his heart was going to beat out of his chest?

A wail akin to the noise of a wounded animal sounded next to him and his skin prickled with goosebumps. This was what he had shaken him awake with an almighty start; he knew it.

Where his girlfriend should be, his eyes landed on a twisted lump of sheets and tangled hair. It sounded like the quivering mass was crying and without hesitation, he leapt into action.

On his knees, the mattress dipped as he worked to free you from the sheets that were coiled around your arms and legs like snakes. He couldn’t quite fathom how you had ended up like this and why the cold of having no blanket at all hadn’t woken him earlier, but it hardly mattered.

Finally, your hot, flustered face appeared with your eyes squeezed shut and tears streaking your cheeks.

“Honey, wake up. It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here. Hey… hey,” he babbled, grasping at your shoulders whilst still trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Ao-shi!” You gulped through tears, blinking away the remnants of sleep that tried valiantly to claw you back under its control.

He could die from heartbreak at how you clung to him, at how you launched yourself upright and into his arms. Your head tucked down to your chest beneath his chin, body trembling and wet with cold sweat. The t-shirt you had borrowed earlier that night bagged on your body, but it was slick and sticking to your skin in places.

Tokimitsu was the one who was used to feeling scared, nervous, anxious… but right now the tables were flipped and how he wished he could take those emotions from you and carry the burden. At least he was used to it.

“It’s alright, just breathe for me,” he coaxed gently, rubbing your back in circular patterns. Aoshi kissed the crown of your head over and over, giving you a chance to control your breathing and regulate yourself whilst he grounded himself with the familiar scent of you.

After a moment or two, your fingers loosened from where they were dug into his biceps. He knew there would be little crescent moon indentations, but he didn’t care, he’d wear them as badges of honour.

You sniffled, bleary eyed and embarrassed. “… ‘m sorry, Aoshi. Bad dream. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Aoshi cupped your face in both hands and brought your face up gently to the same level as his own, thumbs wiping over the watery tracks on your soft, perfect cheeks. His smile was gentle, reassuring, everything he saw in you when you were the one comforting him.

“Don’t be silly and never apologise for feeling scared or worried. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

You nodded once, still a little shaken from images that no longer formed full pictures but were now only snippets of the fear that had gripped you.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, grateful that he let you lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder. The citrusy scent of his favourite bodywash tickled your nose and coaxed a smile upon your lips.

“I love you.”

Tokimitsu flushed scarlet. It wasn’t the first time you had proclaimed your love and he returned it eagerly and sincerely, but it still took him by surprise to hear it and to know he had been so lucky.

He laughed, nervous and adorable. “Isn’t that usually my line?”

“Maybe… but not tonight.”

#delirious writes #barou shouei #itoshi sae #nagi seishiro #oliver aiku #tokimitsu aoshi #barou x reader #sae x reader #nagi x reader #oliver aiku x reader #tokimitsu x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

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lilbluustar · 3 months ago

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they don't know about us

pairing— idol!reader x idol!anton

content— fluff, drama, secret relationship, idol!au, forbidden love, slow burn, confession, first kiss, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, comfort, sm au, based on real feelings, weverse posts, hidden moments, public reveal, emotional rollercoaster.

note— woooow, this is the longest drabble i've written so far! 🫣 i really enjoyed writing something completely different from what i usually write hahahah, btw: i think i'll end up writing a drabble with every 1D song at this point, but hey! thanks to these i get quite a few ideas, hehehe

it all started with a casual conversation.

anton didn't know you personally, but he had seen you. several times, actually.

in the break room. walking around with your coffee in hand. rehearsing with your headphones on and your head down. Always discreet, always with that air of being in your own world.

and though he wouldn't admit it, there was something about you that left him wondering.

he kept looking at you.

until one day, Shotaro, with the subtlety of a train, came up to him and said:

"hey… y/n is amazing, you know?"

"y/n?"

"yeah, you should talk to her. seriously."

sohee, who was eating next to him, just mumbled with her mouth full:

"you literally make good vibes. you have the same kind of weird energy. match made in heaven."

“are you two conspiring to set me up with someone?” laughed Anton.

"not with someone. with her" they said in unison.

it was sungchan and shotaro who started pushing him in your direction. they talked to him about you as if you were a named miracle, as if missing the chance with you was the biggest mistake of his life. at first, he just laughed and said he didn't have time for that… but it was enough to cross you a couple of times in the corridors for him to realize that there was no escape. He already had you in his head.

after that, it was inevitable.

the next time he found you walking down the hallway, he dared to say hello. just that.

“hi.”

“hi” you replied, somewhat shyly.

but that was enough.

because from then on, his greetings became little shared moments.

a “how are you?”, a “did you have a lot of breakfast today?”, a “do you want something to drink?”, a “i like your sweatshirt”.

each one warmer than the last.

the first outing was a “not a date” disguised as a coincidence.

“let's some of us go eat tteokbokki near the studio, are you up for it?” sohee asked you, but you already knew who else was going to be there.

and yes, there was anton. quieter than usual, with his cheeks a little red every time you looked at him.

they talked little. you laughed more. and as you said goodbye, he said to you:

"next time… we could go just the two of us. if you want."

your heart skipped a beat.

you said yes.

the first few dates were as sweet as they were awkward.

a hidden coffee shop where you ordered things that you couldn't pronounce.

a movie in a theater where there were barely five people.

a night walking along the banks of the Han River, just talking about dreams and fears.

places where no one could recognize the both of you.

sometimes you didn't even talk much. you would just stare at each other, nervously, as if each smile could break the air.

he listened to you as if you were a song.

and you looked at him as if you wanted to learn it by heart.

with each encounter, you grew closer.

shoulders brushed. hands trembled.

then came the walks at night, the eternal conversations by message, the hands that sought each other without wanting to.

it was late that night, but you were in no hurry.

they were in a small practice room shared by some groups, just after one of those eternal days of rehearsal. the lights were dim, and the city flickered through the window as if it, too, was breathing calmly.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, drinking water, while he looked at you from the mirror, still not taking off his sweat-soaked hoodie. you talked about everything and nothing. about the weather, about your new playlist, about how anton had been learning to cook because he “couldn't live on ramen anymore.”

“you know?” he said suddenly, breaking a comfortable silence. “sometimes i feel like with you i can be me without putting on any masks.”

your heart skipped a beat.

you looked at him, saying nothing at first. You just swallowed saliva.

“and that scares me” he added, looking down for a moment, with a nervous smile. “because i care about you more than i thought i was ever going to care about anyone here.”

you moved a bit closer, without thinking. you were sitting next to him already, but that time your knees touched his.

he looked up and you met there, at that exact spot where you didn't need to talk anymore.

“can i kiss you?” he asked, softly.

and you… you just nodded. with red cheeks, but without looking away.

it was smooth.

short.

like he was tasting something he'd been imagining for months.

and when he broke away, they both laughed softly, nervously, like two teenagers who had just stolen something from the moon.

but it didn't end there.

days later, anton invited you to a nice restaurant, he brought you a bouquet of flowers and you ended up in a gazebo, he was weird, more serious than usual, until suddenly he took your hand in his, playing with your fingers, and then he looked at you again.

“i don't want this to stay just a kiss.”

"no?"

"no. i want to be the one who makes you smile every day. i want… you to be my girlfriend. if you want to, of course."

your response was to stay silent for a moment-just long enough for his heart to clench-and then you hugged him. tightly. as if he had just given you the place you didn't know you needed.

you hesitated.

not because you didn't feel it, but because you were afraid.

afraid of the world.

of the cameras.

of the consequences.

“if i want to, but i don't want anyone to know...” you told him one night, your hands trembling between his. "at least for now. just your friends and mine. no one else."

“then it will be our secret, your rhythm is mine.” he answered you, with a tenderness that made you fall harder for him.

he broke away a little to look at you, and nodded with one of those smiles that sticks to your skin.

and from that night on, anton was not only the boy who made you laugh, but also the most beautiful secret you kept in your heart.

and so, you became sweethearts.

a secret courtship.

made of messages that said “did you arrive well?”, “you look pretty today”, “i miss you”.

since then, the relationship has been a constant game of glances in hallways, when they pass by each other, brushing hands for a second. and when you were in the same performance or backstage, their gazes cross with tenderness and complicity.

“casual” rehearsals that magically overlap, sometimes at the same time, even in the same room if they can convince their managers that sharing space is more “efficient”.

always managed to coordinate their breaks to coincide. and in those 15-30 minutes, you would hide out on the roof of the building or in an empty room where they would sit together on the floor, share a drink and fool around, sometimes just look at each other, hold hands.

would leave notes on paper hidden in their jackets or gear, when you went to rehearse, you would find a note inside your hoodie: “i dreamt about you today, baby.”

when he went to get his drumsticks or his mic, he would find something written from you on the tape: "do awesome, toni. “

anton would also leave a post-it on your locker with things like ”it was beautiful yesterday, baby“ or ”i'll wait for you at the exit, floor 3". you answer him with stickers of little hearts and little bad drawings that he keeps in his wallet.

their safe place; the little prop room, no one would go in there. it's dark, smells like old cardboard, but it's theirs. there you kissed, laughed, cried. it's like their mini world inside the chaos

where you could pretend the world didn't exist. you were experts at disappearing together and reappearing as if nothing had happened. If anyone suspected, they said nothing.

but, over the months, you began to let their guard down.

it wasn't intentional.

it was love.

love that overflowed and could no longer be hidden.

it was becoming more and more evident. your friends didn't even ask questions anymore, they just smiled. and you… you were beginning to think that maybe you didn't want to hide it forever.

and then… it happened.

BACKSTAGE - BREAK ROOM, 11:37PM.

after the dress rehearsal, the staff had almost finished packing up. most of the team had left, and there were only a few left hanging around the place. you had snuck out looking for a moment with anton, and found him in the small break room on the third floor, where nobody usually went at that time.

you walked in without saying anything, just with that complicit look on your face. Anton smiled at the sight of you and immediately hugged you tightly, as if he hadn't seen you in weeks, when only hours had passed.

“you don't know how much i missed you today” he murmured, hiding his face in your neck.

“but we saw each other earlier” you replied, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him.

"it's not enough. it's never enough with you."

his words melted you. he sat you on his lap and you stayed in each other's arms, swaying gently as if dancing to a silent song. the air was charged with something warm and dangerous. and slowly, the kisses began to appear: one on your cheek, then on your forehead, then on your lips. short. then long. then... more intense.

anton caressed your waist tenderly, but soon his hands began to move up your back and down a little further to your butt, squeezing it and exploring it with restrained desire. you let out a nervous giggle as he whispered something in your ear that made your heart race and his kisses were beginning to descend on your neck, making you shiver.

“Anton... they might see us” you said, barely in a whisper, but not moving away.

"they're all downstairs...just a little while longer, baby" he said hoarsely, gluing his lips to yours again.

were so lost in their own little universe that they didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

the door burst open.

“anton, did you leave you...?” a voice interrupted by the visual impact.

they both froze. literally. you still had your hands inside his shirt over anton's chest, and he was still holding you by your ass. your faces were millimeters apart, lips still swollen, your gazes terrified.

on the other side of the door: a staff member, with a folder in hand and an expression of absolute horror, shock and a touch of “i'm going to pretend i didn't see this.”

the silence was as awkward as it was long.

“...i ... this i didn't see, okay?” the staff member said, slowly backing away.

“WAIT!” exclaimed Anton, pulling away from you but still holding your hand. “we can explain.”

but it was too late. the staff had already almost run off. you felt his stomach drop to the floor, cheeks burning, heart galloping.

“do you think he's going to tell us anything?” you asked, your voice trembling.

"i don't know. but if you do..." anton squeezed her hand. "i'm not letting go of you. no matter what."

looked at him. And in her eyes, there was fear, yes... but also that security that only Anton knew how to give her.

“if this leaks... i guess we'll have to come up with a plan.”

“or tell the truth.”

"just like that?"

"yes. because i don't want to hide you anymore, y/n."

but you and Anton stood there, your hearts beating a mile a minute.

You knew it wasn't going to stay there.

and you were right.

the next day you were called in to talk.

MANAGEMENT OFFICE - THE NEXT DAY, 3:02PM

kept shaking your leg under the table. although you tried to keep your face calm, your fingers intertwined with anton's betrayed your anxiety. He, on the other hand, seemed calm… but only because he didn't want you to feel worse. In reality, your stomach was in knots.

in front of you, two managers, one from Anton's team and one from yours, exchanged uncomfortable glances, sharing silences that said it all.

"so…“ one of them began, resting his hands on the desk, ”are you going to tell us what you were doing in that break room?

Anton opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first.

"we were kissing," you said, bluntly.

the silence was absolute.

"mmm… well, it looked like something else was going on," the other manager muttered, looking at the staff report that had discovered them. "but we wanted to hear it from you. how long has this been going on?"

you looked down, but Anton squeezed your hand and replied:

"almost a year."

both managers blinked, dumbfounded.

"a year? and no one knew?"

"we kept it a secret… very carefully" you added. “it never affected the job or our responsibilities.”

“until now.”

the sentence fell like lead. but Anton didn't shrink.

"we know it was a mistake to hide it for so long, but we don't regret being together. we just wanted to protect what was ours."

there was a moment's pause. one of the managers sighed, dropping his shoulders.

"look, we're not dumb. we noticed things...glances, coordinated absences, escapades during off hours. but we never had proof. until now."

you fell silent, holding your breath.

“we didn't want it to happen like this, but we're not afraid to admit it anymore.”

anton looked at you as if the whole world came down to her in that moment.

“i love her,” he said, with absolute calm. "i don't care if it changes things. i don't want to hide it anymore."

the air grew thick, but the managers exchanged a resigned look. there wasn't much to hide anymore.

“the communications department will decide whether they make a statement or not,” one of them said as he stood up." but be that as it may... there was no turning back now.

anton and you got up as well. just as they were about to leave, your manager added:

"and for what it's worth... you look happy. just make sure you do it right."

ROAD HOME - 6:47PM

the car was silent. not because they didn't want to talk, but because they didn't know where to start.

you were looking out the window, watching the city tint with the last rays of the sun. your eyes were a little glassy, but you hadn't cried. not yet. Anton had one hand on the steering wheel and the other… reaching for yours.

"are you all right? he asked, barely a whisper."

you nodded without looking at him, but he wasn't satisfied. he stopped the car on a quiet street, turned off the engine and turned to you with the most sincere eyes in the world.

you turned your face slowly, and as soon as their gazes met, he caressed your cheek with a gentleness that made your soul tremble.

"i don't want you to be afraid," anton murmured. "you can't imagine how much it hurt me to hide you. having to pretend you were just a friend when all i wanted was to scream to the world that you were mine."

closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. when you opened them, the tears were already there.

"sometimes i felt like we were never going to have this moment," you whispered. "that this was just a dream. but now… i'm afraid that we'll get hurt. that this will ruin everything."

anton shook his head and leaned towards her, resting his forehead against yours.

“no one's going to ruin it,” he said firmly, "because we're not going to let you ruin it. i love you, y/n. from the first rehearsal where we pretended we didn't know each other, from every hidden message, every stolen smile... no matter what comes, we face it together, okay?"

you didn't respond. you just kissed him. slow, long, with all the weight of what they had contained for almost a year. And he reciprocated as if his life depended on that kiss.

their lips parted just a little and anton smiled, lowering his voice.

"you know what the craziest thing is?"

"what?"

"that now i can kiss you without looking to see if there's a camera nearby."

you laughed softly, wiping your cheeks awkwardly. he put both arms around you, making her lay her head on his chest while he stroked her hair.

"i promise you we'll be fine," he whispered, ”i swear it."

and there, in that bubble of peace, they finally breathed. as if everything they had been silent about finally had room to bloom.

that same night, the official statement was soon released.

[OFFICIAL RELEASE - SM ENTERTAINMENT]

April 05, 2025

Hello.

We are SM Entertainment.

We are writing to address a situation that has recently come to our attention. Upon internal review, we have confirmed that two of our artists, Anton (RIIZE) and y/n (solo artist under SM), have been romantically involved for some time.

We understand that this information may have come as a surprise to fans, as both artists decided to keep their relationship private out of respect for their careers, their groups and the fandom. However, due to a situation that occurred inside our facilities, in which they were spotted by a staff member, we feel it is important to be transparent with the public and confirm the facts.

Both artists have expressed to us that their relationship is serious and has developed with maturity, commitment and professionalism. The decision to go public has not been taken lightly, but after considering the situation and listening to their voices, we decided to support them.

We ask all fans and the public to respect their privacy and continue to show the love and support they have always given them.

Thank you.

SM Entertainment.

the nets collapsed.

you had the need to say something about it, so you got up the courage and started writing with your heart in your hand.

[WEVERSE - Y/N]

hi everyone.

this is y/n, and i want to write this from a very sincere place.

i know many of you have already seen the company's announcement... and yes, it's true. anton and i have been together for almost a year now. it wasn't easy to keep it a secret, but we did it because we wanted to protect something that has become the most beautiful thing that has happened to us.

it was never out of shame, nor to hide something bad. it was to take care of us, to take care of what we were building. but now that you know, we don't want to lie or hide anymore.

anton is someone who came into my life with light, patience, tenderness and a love that makes me feel safe every day. we have shared laughter, tears, tired trials, long nights and many dreams... and still, we never stopped choosing each other.

we know this may be hard for some to take in, but we also trust that many of you will support us, as you always have. we ask for nothing but respect and understanding.

we are still the same artists who love what we do, and now we simply... love each other too.

thank you for reading this far.

thank you for understanding.

with all my love,

y/n.

a few minutes later, Anton posted something too.

[WEVERSE - ANTON]

hi, this is anton.

i know that for many this news was unexpected, and i want to take a moment to speak to you with all the sincerity it deserves.

yes, it's true. y/n and i have been in a relationship for almost a year now. we decided to keep it private because it was something very precious to us, something we wanted to take care of and protect from outside noise. it wasn't easy, but it was real. and it still is.

y/n is an amazing person. not only as an artist, but as a human being. her heart, her strength, her way of seeing life... i fall in love with her every day. and no, i don't want to keep hiding someone who makes me so happy.

i know some of you may be surprised or even upset, and i understand that. but i also hope many of you can see what's behind it: two people who truly love each other.

i choose her, and she chooses me. every day.

thank you for all the love you always give us.

thank you for respecting us, for supporting us, and for allowing us to be ourselves.

with love,

anton.

the news blew up like a bomb on social media. no one saw it coming, and the fact that they hid it for almost a year left everyone speechless.

fans of both were split between shock, excitement, and a wave of support. many started remembering little hints: shared glances, subtle gestures in interviews, matching outfits… things that now made TOTAL sense.

some fans, the more intense ones, began gathering evidence: clothes yn wore that looked like Anton’s, subtle hints in their lyrics, or days when they both looked extra happy for no apparent reason. suddenly, everything made sense.

most people celebrated the brave, genuine, and beautiful love they shared, cheering them on for defending it publicly with so much confidence and tenderness. fan comments on weverse after the statement:

“y/n, we’re so proud of you. You two deserve all the happiness in the world.” “Anton, thank you for loving her right. We can see it in your eyes.” “You guys didn’t have to tell us, but you did. And that honesty means the world.”

COMMENTS ON TWITTER/X AND WEVERSE:

“wait… ANTON AND YN HAVE BEEN TOGETHER FOR ALMOST A YEAR??? and WE HAD NO IDEA??? the best actors, literally.”

“anton used to smile different around her AND NOW WE KNOW WHY”

“yn and anton saying ‘we hope for your support’ after hiding it for a year?? power couple behavior”

“not me crying because they were so in love they couldn’t hide it anymore”

“sm staff discovering them was the best thing that could’ve happened tbh”

“the fact that he called her ‘incredible’ and said he chooses her every day?? i’m losing it.”

“you can see how in love anton is… yn, i envy you (in the sweetest way). give him lots of kisses from us LOL.”

“this feels like when your parents tell you they’ve loved each other since they were young and kept it a secret… ICONIC.”

“how did they survive hiding it for almost a year??? i can’t even last five minutes without telling someone i like them.”

“who was the staff member that found out about them? i just wanna talk (and thank them).”

“no one cares that they’re idols, what matters is that they look this happy. i support them 100%.”

“YOOO??? THEY WERE DATING THIS WHOLE TIME???”

“iconic statement, iconic couple, iconic relationship.”

@sunlightforyn: “these statements are more romantic than any fanfic i’ve ever read in my life.”

@antonismybf: “them: hiding their relationship for a year me, watching their weird little moments since 2024: suspicious silence”

@softcorecouple: “i love that you can tell it was a relationship full of genuine love and care. like they really protected each other. that gives me peace.”

@kfanupdates: “someone PLEASE make a thread of all the times yn wore anton’s clothes, because there’s legit proof from MONTHS ago”

VIRAL EDIT ON TIKTOK:

clips of yn wearing Anton’s hoodie + him looking at her like she hung the moon.

fancam of both on stage at different events, catching subtle smiles when they pass each other

POV video titled: “me reading the statements like I’m the main character in a romance drama”

background sound: people sobbing dramatically.

most reactions were overwhelmingly positive—fans welcomed the news with full hearts, celebrating the love and bravery of both of them. but, as expected, not everyone agreed. a few people voiced their anger and disappointment online, posting comments trying to dim the moment. still, with so much excitement, support, and joy flooding the timeline, those negative remarks quickly got lost in the wave of love surrounding Anton and yn.

that night, after everything became public, after reading hundreds of messages —some crying with emotion, others surprised that they had suspected it for months—, you snuggled next to Anton on the couch in his bedroom, with a shared blanket and a soft playlist playing softly.

the warm light from his lamp fell over the edges of his face, and you just looked at him, as if you still didn't believe you didn't have to hide anything anymore.

"you know?" you murmured, your voice soft as you ran your fingers along his wrist. "sometimes i thought this was going to blow up... that we wouldn't last because of all the stress, because of what we had to hide. but look at us."

Anton looked at you with a tired but smitten smile, then kissed your forehead.

"i knew you were worth it. even if i had to hide a thousand smiles, a thousand urges to hold your hand in the hallways... you were worth all of that."

you both laughed softly, as if they were still in that first rehearsal where it all began.

"what now?" you asked, snuggling closer. there are no more secrets. No more fear.

he hugged you tight, his chin on your head.

"now we live this... in our own way. no rush. no masks. just you and me. and if the world looks at us... let it look at us in love."

and so, in his arms, you closed your eyes knowing that in spite of everything, in the end all that mattered was that: the love you had nurtured in silence, could now shine without hiding.

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felibrary · 6 months ago

Text

CHRONICLES OF A LOVESTRUCK BOY

PAIRING: rin itoshi x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: rin doesn’t care how he’s perceived by others—aloof, cold, grumpy—you name it. but deep down, rin itoshi, is no better than an immature teenage boy, especially when you’re around and rin realizes that maybe sometimes it’s still okay to be a kid.

wordcount: 0.7k | content & warnings: established relationship, fluff, very light angst if you squint, rin and reader are head over heels for each other (boo cheesy) ; drabble

art credits: sono_Zha on X!

author's note: i still didnt watch bllk season 2 LMFAO and uhm sorry for the writing hiatus...but hey..i'm back!! (hopefully) only thing i saw was rin with his tongue stuck out #callmewhatyouwantcallmewhatyouneed

“do i seriously have to wear this?” rin grumbles. you look behind and catch a glimpse of his unimpressed cerulean eyes, directly staring at you, and you can’t help but chuckle. but neither his sour expression nor his rosy-tinted cheeks caught your attention—no, it was the small christmas tree hair clip that clipped his fringe back.

rin’s hair wasn’t short enough to rest on his forehead without covering his eyes, nor was it long enough to tuck behind his ears. your solution? buy your boyfriend a hair clip as a gift. to say that rin was happy about the gift would be an understatement. no, really. he was beyond excited—over the moon even.

(as you handed him the wrapped gift you were already cracking a laugh, and seeing rin’s disbelieving face as he opened it, made you burst into laughter—from there on rin stared at you for 5 minutes, not saying a single word.)

“come on “mr. rin goes to uni and leaves with a complaint-degree-itoshi” it’s cute. don’t lie.” you chide gleefully. “if you play another one of these word games, i’m gonna leave.” rin states nonchalantly, avoiding your gaze.

the both of you know that he isn’t being serious, still, you play along. “you wouldn’t dare,” you express dramatically as you try to stifle your laughter. rin looks back at you and his eyes soften. “‘cause you love me too much to ever leave me or am i wrong?” and for the first time this evening, rin cracks a small smile. the gesture is followed by the shake of his head and grabbing your hand to drag you to the photo booth. “let’s go.”

you trail after him, and feel how his hand squeezes yours tighter. it’s his version of telling you that you shouldn’t get lost in the crowd and should stay by his side. instead of walking slightly behind rin, you catch up to him and now walk next to him.

“rin, you haven’t answered my question from before,” you mention, and rin halts, slightly tilting his head like a small confused pup which makes you smile. before you know it, his eyes are gleaming and he lets out a small sigh of relief. “there’s no need for me to answer a question to which you already know my response.” your smile widens, and rin continues to guide you through the crowd.

arriving at the photo booth, you signal rin to slightly lean down and he complies. you reach out your hand and brush the snow out of his hair. “there, looking pretty as always.” you compliment him, and rin shakes his head. “says you,” and you chuckle before getting into the photo booth.

there’s four pictures for each strip, so you and rin make the best out of it. the poses range from goofing around, leaning one’s head on the shoulder, or a kiss on the cheek. after the pictures were done printing you took them out and proudly showed them to him.

seeing how joyous and excited you were for a mere photo strip made him feel warm. it wasn’t that he was against taking pictures with you, no, in fact, he loved it. your smile was always contagious and you were beaming from ear to ear that even rin couldn’t help but smile.

the reason why he didn’t want to take the pictures or at least avoid looking at them after they were done printing was because of him wearing the hair clip. it wasn’t that he disliked your gift, but he just looked like someone he didn’t want to. rin was scared that when he’d look at the pictures it wasn’t him you were standing next to but his brother.

you knew that rin had a rivalry with his brother going on—become the best striker in the world to prove to him that he can do it without sae. but he never went into detail about how sae’s absence affected him, how whenever he stared into the mirror and clipped his hair back, it wasn’t his reflection that stared back but the one from his brothers.

but how could he ever think that when you’re here, laughing over how cute he looked and that he should wear it more often? is this what people mean when they say that they’re going to miss a moment they’re currently experiencing?

the cold, everlasting winter leaves behind layers of snow that stick and cover the ground as a whole before melting into puddles of water when the sun appears behind the clouds, granting its rays to the earth and sending its warmth to those who are stuck in capsules of melancholy.

for rin there’s no more precious gift than you.

additional: a few weeks later you visit rin, and spot the photo strip glued to his mirror and you can’t help but crack a small smile.

tags: if there's been one thing i've been continuously doing this year its writing @azullumi a small note under each of my works. hello beloved <3 i'm actually not quite sure if you're into blue lock, but HELP RECENTLY I CAME ACROSS A TIKTOK ON MY FYP OF A MICHAEL KAISER EDIT AND THE INTRO WAS A FANART OF PREGNANT DEKU AND BAKUGO I THINK??? AND U REPOSTED I THOUGHT 😭😭 but anyway, its hard to believe that this year is almost over but what it's harder to believe is that i was able to grow and blossom so much as a person this year—all thanks to you. you're the friendship that i needed that i gained this year. you hold such a precious place in my heart that i fear if you'd ever leave it'd feel like a piece of my heart were missing. i don't know how i was supposed to survive this year without you. you were there for me when i was at my lowest mentally but also at my peak of writing HAHAH. you were always my number one supporter which I'm beyond grateful for. when i met you, i was surprised at how easily a person was able to understand and sympathise with me because I've always felt hard to understand but you—you made it seem so natural. you loved me as if it were in your nature to love me. and the same goes from me to you. loving you comes as easy as breathing, azul. i love you. wishing you lots of strength for the new year xx (no we're not together.)

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