#if i damaged it by being careless

[voidcandle]

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[isfjmel-phleg]

😶 

[heartbeetz]

Just thought about Anton's wedding band being kinda scuffed up and it's making me fucking ill. In a good way. Treating a ring like it's part of you to such an extent that you don't even think about trying to baby it or keep it extra safe/pristine. Letting it get little marks that change it into something totally unique. GOD that's so sweet...

[horny-ex-catholic]

Well. I have had a monumentally shit day because my idiot sister thought it was a good idea to take advantage of me being away for school and steal my sex toys.

And my mother found them

And I had to confirm they were mine so she could make sure my sister wasn't getting them from classmates or something. Which is fair but fucking humiliating.

All my years of pushing my own boundaries with sex, slowly working through the bullshit guilt the church left me with, being so goddamn careful to keep my shit private because I'm not comfortable acknowledging my interest in sex even to most of my closest friends. And through no fault or mistake of my own all that progress is fucked. Because my sister, whose right to privacy I repeatedly defended to our parents because I know how awful it is to feel like my own room isn't safe from prying eyes, decided my privacy didn't matter that much.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

are people who are combative assholes constantly trying to assert dominance on everyone around them having a good time?

[relto]

omg i actually managed to finish this mission without being detected

[curiousscallop]

!! one of the worst ocd things that i don’t think ive ever seen discussed is how — especially/specifically in relationship ocd (by which I mean any kind of relationship not just romantic) — it makes it borderline impossible to accurately and comfortably identify your needs and boundaries or whatever because it’s so so hard to tell what’s an obsession vs what’s a legitimate issue that you need to stand up for yourself about

[divadollcreations]

Dropped my Switch for the first time. We will now proceed living in constant fear

[knightlysoulsnatcher]

it’s really interesting navigating being hurt and having snapped at people when being hurt because for so long most people did not care about my pain and would only have any sort of reaction to my distress if i caused them pain in return. which is why i think it bothers me so much when i am hurt deeply and then snap at being hurt, when that snap is the object of focus and not the huge buildup of pain and damage leading up to the snap. esp because historically, i try not to snap until the pressure and the pain reaches an all-time high. like i do my best to be as respectful and reasonable and the breaking point comes when the hurt increases and the acknowledgment of it is lackluster at best. by no means is my response justified, but being able to finally put words to why it happens for me and when it happens helps a lot

[inupibaldspot]

Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.

> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k

> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr

> in which masterlist!

note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3

—

“oh my god- fuck!”

you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.

jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.

“damn…”

his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.

“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”

but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.

the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.

suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.

the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.

“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”

his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.

“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”

you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.

alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.

“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”

figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.

he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.

and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.

eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.

“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”

“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.

and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”

you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.

the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.

because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.

you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.

“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”

—

“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”

your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.

jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.

“you scared me!”

not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.

“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”

“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.

your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.

“where did you lose it?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.

it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.

“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”

“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”

he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”

he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.

“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”

“but are we just going to leave the car here?”

“did you leave anything in there?”

“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”

he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”

you pout.

“it’s such a bother.”

feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.

maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.

“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”

“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.

“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”

the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.

“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”

and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.

“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”

he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.

“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”

“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”

he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.

a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.

you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.

your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.

“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.

he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?

“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”

god, please, not your favorite car.

“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”

“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”

you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.

“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”

“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.

it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.

he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”

he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.

the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.

you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.

“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”

the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.

“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”

he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.

“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”

“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.

“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”

jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.

your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.

“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”

you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.

“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.

you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.

“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”

angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.

“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”

jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.

“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”

but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.

“eh, it is what it is.”

the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.

“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.

you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.

but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”

“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”

“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”

and just like that, you’re walking away again.

“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”

—

“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”

you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.

“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“what? what am i doing?”

the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”

“why?” your tone borders on a whine.

“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”

“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”

“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.

“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”

“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”

“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”

your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”

“no, you’re not.”

and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”

he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.

fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.

“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”

and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.

“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”

“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”

his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.

“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”

“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”

the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.

oh, he truly got called out, huh?

“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”

“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”

“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”

you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.

you can’t be the only one, can you?

“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”

didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.

“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.

for the record, you loved that mug.

“boring.”

“and fighting with me is fun?”

you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”

“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.

all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”

what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?

you don’t know, but you feel good.

and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.

he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.

“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”

“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”

but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.

that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.

“no. no, no.”

his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.

“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”

then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.

“i’m hanging the laundry now!”

“how dare you walk away from me?!”

“you can’t follow me!”

“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”

—

“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”

he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.

“is that it? are you tired of me already?”

he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.

you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”

and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.

you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.

you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”

he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.

“did i turn invisible?”

your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.

you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”

he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”

his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.

your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.

a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”

atleast he tried to shoot his shot.

“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”

he disappears into the closet again.

he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.

“hey!”

you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.

“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”

“no.”

you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.

jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.

he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”

“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.

“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”

he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.

“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.

you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”

“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”

and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.

“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”

it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.

“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.

“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”

his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”

and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.

your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.

who does that so casually? who the hell does that?

oh, right… jungkook. of course.

you raise the white flag today.

perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.

—

“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

your sour mood makes a reappearance.

to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.

this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.

oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?

too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.

to: my baby love

i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?

orrr is that what you're away buying 😥

WHERE ARE YOU

why didn't you just take me with youuuu

?

please me lonely :(

[sent 1 photo]

a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭

i miss you :(

are you almost done

i hate u

whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.

—

jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.

only to be greeted by a complete stranger.

his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.

the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.

they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.

he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.

not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.

his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.

what the fuck?

okay, calm down, JK. one more time.

he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.

“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”

—

you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.

oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.

you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.

he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?

“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”

upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.

“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”

the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.

“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”

he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.

“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”

sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.

“i like you the most.”

and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.

his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.

“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.

but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”

“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”

he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.

“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.

he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.

you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”

—

jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.

“will you type my password for me?”

you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.

“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”

he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”

“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”

shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.

“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”

that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.

“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”

“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”

“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”

“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.

you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.

“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”

“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”

“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”

“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”

you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.

so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.

you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.

and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?

fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.

you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.

“are you proposing to me?”

“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[oglegoggle]

Just like… the first fight was when we were sitting in the tub together a couple days after his cat slashed my literal eyeball, and I told him outright that the cat is not allowed in my home again. His immediate response was to say “So you’re dumping me?” and I wasn’t at all trying to dump him I was trying to assert boundaries around the trauma I just endured and he left.

The second fight was after a few months of living apart but still dating when we were sitting in the tub together and he read my comments on a Tumblr post about ADHD folks being allergic to taking responsibility for their own actions. He asks me what sparked the comment and I told him that I found one of my most beloved dishes broken, hidden in the living room in a pile of his garbage he just left in my fuckin house and wouldn’t clean up and his reaction was to say he doesn’t remember breaking and hiding my dish (I don’t remember therefore it never happened legit being one of the biggest emotional triggers in my life and he knew this) He asked why I didn’t tell him about it if I’ve been feeling hurt by his behavior and I told him that I feel like confronting him about things when I feel hurt doesn’t change the nature of our relationship.

By that point he had scheduled us exactly one consult for couples counseling (after several months of asking over and over again for cc) and afterwards decided it would be a waste of time and money since I would be leaving anyway so I had just kinda accepted that we’re not trying to make the relationship work anymore we’re enjoying fuckin so why bother with arguing over emotional shit? He again left. Two days later I texted him apologizing for saying mean things about him on my blog, and he never did respond. Two days after that I realized I shouldn’t be apologizing for being hurt by his behavior and I’ve in fact done a hell of a lot of apologizing for being hurt by his behavior, a lot of taking financial responsibility for his fuckups, parenting him because he’s incapable of doing literally anything in the way of chores, and just enduring the stress of his filth and the seizures his dog gave me and the new heap of PTSD his cat gave me and I realized that I’m just going to be ground into dust by his selfishness and apathy towards the impact his actions have on others if I continue. I blocked him on everything.

I am certainly aware that I’m not always kind and gentle, and I do want to genuinely apologize for and fix my mistakes, espesh in regards to people I care about. But the truth of the matter is that I put work into fixing my mistakes and flaws. He did not. I was constantly walking on eggshells with him emotionally because every time I would go “Hey, this thing you do hurts me” the two plausible responses were “I’ve got (insert mental illness here) so tI’m not capable of doing better.” or “This is the end of us!” And well…. Yeah. That was the end of us. I would certainly have appreciated it if I could’ve maintained a friendship with him, but he’s honestly a real drain of a person and I’m better off without him. I still have that longing urge to text him and talk but I know that he’s bad for me. He’s said it himself, he’s not capable of doing better. And I deserve better.

[umberandmochaagate]

I'M NOT EVEN FUCKING PAID

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Hi! I have a request.

Okay so 1-A bakugou end’s up to the future. Where he sees that he has a family with reader and sees what a simp he will become🫣

And how would future bakugou and reader (+ the kids) react to meeting him.

(You can choose if past bakugou knows reader or not)

I’m sorry if it’s confusing,

It was safe to say that Katsuki was beyond pissed. He was certain that at this point he was never going to fully get your attention, not with that damned Todoroki always swooping in before he can even look your way.

==================================

The cacophony of grunts from the students plundered against the walls of Gym Gamma. It was self-improvement day and Aizawa was NOT letting anyone rest.

“Keep it up class. Those who fail to break some sort of barrier today will receive double homework for a week. I’m looking at you, Kaminari,” Aizawa grinned evilly. You let out a giggle at Kaminari’s audible gulp before Aizawa shot you a glare.

Katsuki was busy increasing the flow of his AP shot; he thought that if he could increase his sweat, he could increase the speed of which the blasts sped out. The poor rock he was blasting was finally on its last legs, all before that IDIOT Kaminari accidentally bumped into him and caused a rockslide, directly above the platform that you were training on.

“Hey, watch!-” he yelled in a panic. He saw fear flash through your eyes as he willed his body to move. Thankfully for you and begrudgingly for him, a smooth glacier of ice barricaded you from being concussed with Bakugou’s debris.

Todoroki hopped his way from his platform to you and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright? You aren’t hurt are you?” Todoroki asked, examining your head for injuries. You shook him off you with a nervous smile.

“Thank you for stopping the debris Todo, but I’m fine. It was shock, I’m not hurt,” you reassured him gently. Todoroki gave you another once over before seeing where the damage came had arrived from.

“I would recommend being more careful next time, Bakugou. Someone could have gotten really hurt,” Todoroki gave him a meaningful glare as Katsuki fought every vein pop in his neck at his implications. Kaminari let out a guffaw, before he let out a squeak of terror at the animalistic look on Katsuki’s face.

“Laugh. Again. I. Freakin’. Dare. You,” he strained angrily through gritted teeth.

“O-okay Kaachan!” Kaminari speedily ran away from the threat as Katsuki stared at the back of your head. Well, now he was in a bad mood.

==================================

Katsuki was the first one in the changing room, and the first one out. He trudged his way to the UA dorms so he could shower and forget the whole day. He couldn’t stand the idea of being teased right now, not when he was so careless to the point that you nearly got concussed. Well, that never would have happened if Dunce Face watched where he was going…

Katsuki was torn from his thoughts as he barged past another student.

“Hey, watch where you’re fucking!-”

And just like that, Katsuki fell to the ground.

==================================

It took Katsuki a long time to start stirring from his sleep. It was a gradual process, but somehow he managed to tear the sleep from his body as he was poked and shaken incessantly by someone. Katsuki jumped up immediately in surprise, throwing a blast at his assailant. His assailant was no match for him though, springing back and using their quirk to restrain him.

Katsuki wiggled in his restraints like a wild animal, snapping and snarling.

“What the hell do you want with me you bastards! Let me the hell go or I’ll fucking kill you!” He snarled with purpose. A soft giggle filled his ears. A familiar giggle.

Soft (S/C) skin filtered through his still blurry vision until he saw… you.

You were at least a good 20 years older, some laughter lines he didn’t remember seeing (not that he definitely doesn’t scan you every time you’re close to him), as well as new scars.

Your eyes had aged too, the bags slightly more prominent but you were still you. You had four small children gathered around the bed gawking at the teen. The smallest was in your lap, seemingly frightened of Katsuki.

“Easy there tiger, you just woke up. I found you in the street asleep, so I took you to a hospital to see if you’re okay,” you offered an explanation that only answered some of his questions.

“Who the damned hell are you?? Why the hell am I here?? Argh, damnit! Let me out of these shitty restraints!” He demanded. Your face hardened in an instant as you glared at him.

“Hey, no fucking swearing in front of my children! If you’re going to talk and ask questions, you need to be respectful. You’re frightening my son with your endless shouts, so what’s your name and we can call your parents to come collect you.”

Katsuki let himself be still for a moment, glowering at you before relaxing his pose.

“My name is Katsuki Bakugou. I was hit by a quirk on my way to the UA’s dorms, I fell asleep I think, and the next thing I know is I’m in a hospital bed surrounded by someone who looks like a classmate of mine,” Katsuki growled. Your face grew a look of puzzlement.

“D-did you say… Katsuki Bakugou? As in, explosion quirk, super goal oriented, current number 2 hero?” You questioned him worriedly.

Katsuki gave you a strange look. How the hell would you know about that stuff??

“I’m only a high school student so I can’t be the number two hero yet, but everything else is true. Look, here’s my quirk,” he said as he let off a few sparks. The small children around the bed looked on in awe at the sight as you chewed your nails.

Katsuki looked back up to you and saw your expression.

“Why?” He asked.

You gulped.

“Because I’m married to Katsuki Bakugou.”

==================================

“Baby, I need you to come to the hospital in Kyoto, it’s an emergency! What? No, me and the kids are fine, we-. Hey, I told you we’re okay, but you have to be here as soon as you can. I’ll send you the details. I love you, see you in a bit.” You hung up the phone with an ashen face as you made your way back to your chair. Your children were bombarding Katsuki with questions, all too weird for Katsuki to answer.

“Papa, why are there two of you?”

“Daddy, why don’t you remember us? Did we do something bad?”

“Dad, why do you look so young? Where are all of your cool scars?”

“Alright kids, give the kid some space. We obviously need to get this fixed somehow. How we’re gonna do that is beyond me though,” you massaged your temples with a sigh. You glanced back up to young Katsuki.

“You’re definitely not a clone or something? Not some sort of fanboy who cosplays in his spare time?” You asked him, half joking.

Katsuki snorted.

“No, I don’t cosplay heroes. I beat them in the hero ranks to show them that I’m the best!” He exclaims.

“God, you even sound like my husband. I’m getting more and more convinced that this is some sort of weird time shift,” you stopped speaking as soon as a muscular figure pulls himself through the door. Katsuki physically stills.

It was him, but older.

At first, older Katsuki didn’t give him a look in. He scrambled over to you, kissing you deeply before checking you over for injuries.

“Where are you hurt?? Are you alright?? Speak to me??” He demanded. You carefully push him off you and rub your thumb on his cheek.

“Sweetie, I told you I’m fine. See, even the quadruplets are fine. We have a major problem though, and I don’t know how we’re going to solve it,” you gestured to younger Katsuki. Older Katsuki glares at younger Katsuki before a look for confusion befalls his face.

Katsuki looked… older. His face was more structured, yet still maintained some of his puppy fat. Scars littered his face, the most noticeable a large triangle that went from the middle of his cheek to the underside of his neck. His hair was shorter too, buzzed at the side. He towered over you easily and his pecs looked even bigger than before. Taunt muscles flexed at the threat to his wife and children.

“Can someone explain what the fuck happened?”

“Katsuki, stop fucking swearing!”

==================================

Until he was back to his current time, you had pleaded with your husband to let him stay. Older Katsuki agreed when his babies started pleading too, chubby cheeks wobbling with unshed tears at the idea of their older daddy throwing out their younger daddy.

And for the last few days, he had lived with you and his (?) children. Older Katsuki was mostly at work when he woke up, and he wouldn’t see him unless he stayed up past his bedtime (he could never compromise his sleep).

He spent some time babysitting your children, the quads. The eldest, Akira, was a total carbon copy of him, apart from his hair texture and colour. He was so bold when facing younger Katsuki, asking him questions and hiding his siblings behind him when they properly met.

The second eldest daughter, Aika, was more like you; shy and reserved but very playful all the same. She was a more balanced mixed of the two of you (?).

Your third daughter, Kokoro, was a pain in his ass. She constantly played tricks on Katsuki, taunting him and making mean jokes (all before she was shut down with your stare).

And finally, your littlest quadruplet Keiko, was honestly kinda his favourite in the strangest way; he was so different to his siblings it was unreal. He was the smallest, most sensitive of the bunch. In a way, he reminded him of Deku when they were kids, but with his colour hair.

The morning of the third day, you sat him down with your children at the breakfast table and grilled him a fry up. Each of your children were giggling happily in their high chairs, scrambled eggs and ketchup smeared around each mouth. Katsuki let out a small smile when Keiko offered him a piece of toast from his plate before denying it with a “no thanks squirt, your ma is making me some”.

“Well, good news! I found the person who you described and asked them how long the quirk should last. You should be back to your own time by next week, maybe even earlier if you’re lucky,” you smiled as you flipped the sizzling bacon in the pan.

Katsuki was scarfing the breakfast like there was no tomorrow, up until you said that he should be home sometime by next week.

That’s good, he thought. I really want to know something though, I might as well take advantage of the situation.

He looked up at you, one burning question on his mind.

“I bet you’re wondering how me and … well, I suppose you got together, huh?” You grinned at him.

“How could you tell that’s what I was thinking?” He demanded. You let out a laugh.

“Katsuki hun, I’ve been married to you, er, him for over 15 years. I know all of your little tricks and tells, so don’t even try hiding them,” you offered more bacon to him. He accepted, before you turned your attention to the kids in their high chairs.

“Let me clean up my mucky little pups up first and we’ll talk after I’ve dropped them off at daycare.”

==================================

It was a pleasant day, Katsuki noted. After dropping off the children at the daycare and added cuddles from the babies, you did as you promised and hurried Katsuki to the couch with a photo book.

“See here, this is a photo I took of us at our first date. You were so nervous, your hand kept popping and you had to keep wiping your hand,” you laughed fondly at the memory. Katsuki peered at the photos with a strange feeling lying in his tummy. Is this why he felt so nervous around younger you all of the time?

“Oh! And here, this was our trip with the class to France! I had said something about the croissants being delicious, and you took that as a challenge. I was eating the croissants you made for days,” you let out another laugh as you recounted tales of your relationship.

Katsuki stared at you for a solid 5 seconds. You stared at him back until his face hardened and he turned himself away. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Is something the matter hun?” You pried carefully. Damnit, you even knew the right nicknames to make him feel all weak inside.

“Just… why the hell would you go out with someone like me, hah? I’m loud, I’m obnoxious, I can be pretty freakin’ mean, so why? Why would you ever let me have a home with you?! Why would you ever let me grow a family with you?!? Why do you seem so happy, even though there’s a chance I may never come back?!?” He was borderline yelling at the end of his lament, tears threatening to plop onto the pages of the photo album.

You hugged Katsuki tightly, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, all soft and gentle.

“Katsuki… I have no idea how far you’re into the relationship with younger me, but I’m going to let you in on a secret. I had a crush on you since our first day. I thought you were so strong and handsome, although you had some angst problems. Even after that, I always admired you from afar.

It hasn’t always been easy with you, as I’m sure you’re aware of. You can be loud and mean, and that has caused some rifts in our relationship, but,” you lifted his head up and cleared some tears.

“You’re also dedicated. You found ways to make up for your mistakes, and I always forgave you for them. I wanted a family with you because I love you, er, older Katsuki. We’re so blessed to have the quadruplets, even if they’re little pains sometimes. And yeah, there isn’t a day that goes by when I’m not panicked beyond all belief when you’re at work, but I wouldn’t stop you because it’s your dream.”

Katsuki looked at you. Your eyes held nothing but sincerity as he smoothed his breathing.

“Now come on, let’s go make some spicy noodles. My husband will be back soon.”

==================================

Katsuki helped you diligently in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with renewed vigour. Older Katsuki trudged through the door with a loud grunt, you immediately dropping the pan on the hob to give him a welcome home hug.

“Welcome back baby, how was work? It was nice that Kiri offered to cover your shift,” you rambled happily into his neck. Katsuki let out a barking laugh at your clinginess as he picked you up and kissed you, making you squeal in surprise.

Younger Katsuki stared at your display; is this how you’re going to be in the future? Allowing him to kiss your neck when he comes home from work, cooking his favourite meals, keeping your home in tact?

“Oi, quit starin at my wife you pervert,” older Katsuki barked before you slapped his chest playfully.

“Leave him be, he’s literally you, you big dumb dumb. I’ve been letting him in on some of our dates and stuff so he can seduce younger me into wanting you,” you teased. Both Katsuki’s huffed simultaneously, earning a laugh from you. You wriggled yourself out of his grip and led him to the dining room where the meal you and younger Katsuki created.

You kissed his cheek as you went to fetch him a drink, leaving both Katsuki’s by themselves.

Older Katsuki stared menacingly at his younger self before clearing his throat.

“Listen brat, we need to fuckin’ talk,” he starts, rearranging himself on the chair and nudging the other chair adjacent to him. Younger Katsuki did so with hesitation.

“I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya now, if you do anything that wrecks what I have now, I’m gonna come back in time to kick your ass,” he growls lowly.

“I love that damned woman more than anything in this godforesaken planet, as well as my little pack of brats. I would do anything for them, and I’ll be damned if you do anything that fucks that up for me,” he glares at him. Younger Katsuki slowly put two and two together and looked pointedly at the scar on his cheek. Older Katsuki knew where he was looking immediately.

“I, we, got this scar during a villain attack. (Y/N) took the brats to the park after a stupid fucking fight we had, and a villain attacked them out of nowhere. Luckily, I was patrolling there and stopped them from hurting them, so I took the blow in her place. I would do it a million times over for her,” his voice audibly softens whilst talking about you, eyes downcast to the large scar on his cheek.

He touches it almost fondly, as if he was proud of the scare. Knowing Katsuki, he probably was. He looked back up at younger Katsuki, who had a contemplating look.

“So…. Please. Don’t hurt her younger self in any way. I wouldn’t be able to survive without her. If you argue, hold your tongue even if you’re right. Treasure her. Make her feel like she’s the most incredible woman in the damned world, cos she fuckin is,” he finished with a doleful look in his eyes.

“…okay. I’ll, I’ll try,” younger Katsuki promised. Older Katsuki nodded and cleared his throat as you walked into the room. You presented the bottle of beer with a happy grin and a kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of the hair for younger Katsuki.

Fuck, he was smitten.

==================================

“Daddies, watch me!” Aika grunted loudly as she successfully tiptoed from one end of the couch to another. Older Katsuki clapped and whooped in adoration whilst younger Katsuki looked on in pride.

“That’s my little ballerina! You’re gonna be the most graceful dancer ever, pumpkin!” Older Katsuki cheered, sweeping her up on his shoulder and making her squeal.

Kokoro looked on in jealousy with a pout on her face before a brilliant idea struck her. She toddled back to the couch and attempted the exact same feat as her sister, except on the back of the couch.

Keiko sat below her and watched her with a fearful expression.

“Papas, watch me! I can do it better than Aik-AAAAA!” She shrieked as she went to fall on the cushions of the couch, and subsequently Keiko. Keiko let out a scared cry as younger Katsuki swooped in to save him, carrying him in his left arm and catching Kokoro diligently in his right.

Keiko sobbed loudly into Katsuki’s broad shoulder, clinging to him with impressive strength. He nestled in as close as he could, passing Kokoro to his older self as he tried shushing Keiko.

“There there brat, you’re okay. Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured softly into his ear. He tried rocking him softly in his arms the same way you did and he was slowly left with a hiccuping, sleepy toddler.

“Damnit Kokoro, this is why I tell you to be careful! Every time you try to show Aika up, you end up hurting someone and yourself. Are you hurt, Keiko?” Older Katsuki asked Keiko. Keiko shook his little head into younger Katsuki’s neck.

Kokoro started tearing up at older Katsuki’s tone and looked down in shame. He visibly softened at his daughter’s tears and wiped them away with his fingers.

“Just be more careful, okay pumpkin?” He said firmly. Kokoro nodded and offered Keiko an apology.

==================================

The next time Katsuki woke up, it was in a hospital bed. Specifically, Recovery Girl’s clinic. The light filtered through the blinds, hitting Katsuki in the face and making him stir.

IV wires and tubes fed into him and made it hell to try to sit up, before he saw a sleeping figure near his knees.

It was younger you.

He nudged you with his knee in order to wake you up. You looked dreadful; massive eye bags, lips nibbled red raw, sniffly pink nose like you hadn’t stopped crying.

“Oh my god, you’re awake! I’ll go get Recovery Girl!” As you moved to get her, Katsuki grabbed your hand.

“W-what…,” his voice felt strange, like it wasn’t his.

“What the damned hell happened?” He croaked out.

Your face saddens as you looked away.

“You seemed really upset after our last training session, so I went after you to find you. You had collapsed just outside of the Height’s Alliance building and you wouldn’t wake up whatsoever,” your voice cracks. Katsuki let out an “oh”.

You gained your composure before looking at Katsuki again.

“So, how do you feel? Is anything hurt? What happened?” You interrogated him. Katsuki rolled his eyes at your pestering before a sly grin crossed his face.

“Why, were ya worried about me?” He teased and watched as your face turned a bright pink. You flapped your hands around in a panic.

“It’s just because you’re my classmate is all! You wouldn’t wake up, and I didn’t want you to stay like this for ages!” You rambled in a worried state. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh before wincing at his voice.

Well, better shoot my shot, he thought.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what. Go out with me this Saturday and I’ll tell ya everything,” he promised.

The pink in your face told him everything that he needed to know.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Pick-a-fic prompt:

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle to step back and reflect (focus on the Royals)

OR

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle, but the brothers find MC’s diary where their doubts are written as plain as day (focus on the Brothers)

Sorry this took so long to get to, I've just been so busy working, prepping stuff for moving, and I got absorbed in the fic I am working on. I chose the second one and ended up giving it more angst. I hope this is what you were asking for. Enjoy :)

Failure

MC had never felt so small.

From the moment they arrived in the Devildom, they were an outsider—human, fragile, and completely out of place. The brothers tolerated their presence, but only just. Every day was a new challenge, a struggle to keep their head above water in a world so different from their own.

Mammon, their first pact and appointed guardian, never missed an opportunity to remind them of how much of a burden they were. "Oi, don’t just stand there lookin’ useless. If you’re gonna stick around, at least do somethin’ useful, huh?" He’d toss those words at them with a grin, almost like it was a joke, but the sting was real. His careless remarks hit hard, especially when MC was already trying to find their place in this strange world. Mammon didn’t see the damage; to him, they were just another chore to deal with, something that got in the way of his schemes.

Leviathan wasn’t much better. Whenever MC tried to interact with him, they were met with his judgmental stare, as though they were trespassing. "What’s a normie like you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?" His voice was laced with annoyance, making them feel like some bizarre creature that had wandered into his private world. He kept his distance, never giving MC a chance to show they could connect with him, too. His obsession with his fictional worlds only made them feel even more like an outsider, as though they’d never understand or be worthy of stepping into his life.

Satan? Satan barely acknowledged their existence. If he ever looked up from his books, it was with frustration, as if MC’s very presence disrupted his thoughts. "Can’t you see I’m busy?" he’d say, his voice cold and dismissive. He wasn’t cruel, but his indifference hurt just as much. It was like MC was invisible unless they somehow got in his way.

And Asmodeus—Asmo treated MC like an accessory, something to admire for a moment and then discard when something more interesting caught his eye. "Darling, if you're going to wear something that dull, I really can’t be seen with you." His words were often accompanied by a smile, but the superficiality behind them was clear. He made them feel like an object, like their only worth was tied to their appearance. Even worse, Asmo never seemed to consider how his constant fixation on perfection weighed on MC, making them question their own worth more and more each day.

Beelzebub? He rarely acknowledged MC at all. His focus was always on food, and even when he did notice them, it wasn’t in a way that made them feel seen. "You smell different. Wonder if you’d taste good," he’d say offhandedly, as if it was just a passing thought. He didn’t mean any harm, but hearing those words was unsettling. It made them feel even less like a person and more like some temporary guest who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But Lucifer… Lucifer was the hardest to bear. His demands for perfection pressed down on MC like an unbearable weight. He expected them to adapt instantly, to know things they couldn’t possibly know, and when they inevitably made mistakes, the look of disdain in his eyes was enough to crush them. "I need you to be better," he’d say, his voice calm but sharp. MC could never shake the feeling that they were constantly being judged, constantly falling short of his expectations. His false sense of care grated on them the most—he acted like he was guiding them, but to MC, it felt more like control.

Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and no one seemed to care that they were struggling. They couldn’t keep up, and instead of offering help, the brothers’ habits and personalities only deepened their isolation. The teasing, the judgment, the indifference—it was all too much.

So, they ran.

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. They didn’t even pack their bags. They simply left one night, slipping out of the House of Lamentation and making their way to Diavolo’s castle. If anywhere in the Devildom could offer peace, it was there. Leaving behind their diary, a collection of their thoughts, hopes, and fears. They didn’t expect anyone to find it. Writing had been their only outlet, the only way to cope with the growing weight of their struggles.

At first, the brothers didn’t notice their absence. Days passed, and the empty seat at the table went unremarked upon. Only when the small disruptions became too obvious did Mammon speak up.

"Oi, where’s the human? It ain’t like ‘em to just disappear without a word," he grumbled. But even then, his tone was more annoyed than concerned.

Lucifers sharp gaze swept the hallways, his mind turning over the details of MC’s sudden absence. He’d been busy—too busy, really. Between managing his brothers and fulfilling his duties, MC had slipped from his radar, and now… now he realized he hadn’t checked in on them in days.

It wasn’t until Satan, searching for a book, came across MC’s diary tucked away in a corner of their room that the truth was revealed.

Satan made his way to the eldests office, frowning as he thumbed through the pages. "Lucifer, you should see this."

Lucifer took the diary, reading in silence as his eyes traced the words MC had written. The others were called, and soon they all knew what MC had been feeling.

The entries were raw, filled with MC’s doubts and pain. Each brother’s name was scrawled across the pages, followed by confessions of how their words and actions had hurt.

“Mammon makes me feel like I’m nothing but a burden. Every time he calls me useless, it’s like he’s confirming something I’ve already been afraid of. I’m just in the way here.”

“Levi never sees me as more than a ‘normie.’ It’s like I’m some strange animal in his eyes, something he doesn’t want to understand. He shuts me out every time I try to get closer.”

“Satan barely notices I exist. And when he does, it’s always with that look… like I’m a problem he doesn’t want to deal with. I guess I am a problem.”

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

“Lucifer… I don’t know how to describe it. He expects so much from me. Too much. He looks at me like I’m failing him, like I’m not worth the time it takes to help. His care feels false. I can’t keep up with his demands, and I don’t think he even realizes how much I’m struggling just to stay afloat.”

And then came the final entry.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything is too much. The brothers… they don’t care about me. I’m just another responsibility to them, one they didn’t ask for. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the exchange program. Maybe I should. Maybe I’m not strong enough for this.”

The brothers were silent and exchanged glances, the weight of the words sinking in. They just hadn’t realized how much their habits, their personalities, had affected MC. Mammon’s constant jabs, Levi’s distant hostility, Asmo’s superficial comments, Satan’s cold indifference, Beel’s lack of attention… all of it had chipped away at MC’s sense of self, until they felt like they didn’t matter.

Lucifer closed the diary, his jaw tight. "I didn’t know they felt this way," he said, his voice low.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we were just messin’ around."

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t think they cared what I thought. I mean, I barely even know them."

Satan’s frown deepened. "We’ve all been too focused on ourselves."

Asmo’s eyes were wide with guilt. "I didn’t realize… I just thought they were shy. Or adjusting." He looked down, his usual confidence gone.

Beel said nothing, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. He hadn’t even noticed how much MC had been struggling, too wrapped up in his own needs to see theirs.

"We need to bring them back," Lucifer said finally, his voice firm.

At the castle, the brothers had expected to find MC sulking, perhaps still angry or hurt. They had come, armed with apologies and, for once, a united front. Lucifer led them, the weight of the diary heavy in his hands. It felt strange, unsettling even, to think they had been so blind to MC's struggles. They had planned to convince MC to stay, to promise things would be different this time.

But when they arrived, the castle was eerily quiet. Barbatos greeted them at the entrance, his face impassive, but his eyes held a hint of something… regretful.

"Where is MC?" Lucifer asked, his voice tight.

Barbatos looked at the group for a moment before lowering his gaze. "You’re too late."

"What'dya mean, 'too late?'" Mammon blurted, stepping forward, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of panic.

Barbatos sighed softly, his tone unusually firm. "MC has already returned to the human world. They made the request to Lord Diavolo, and it has been granted."

The weight of his words sank in, and the brothers stood in stunned silence. Lucifer, for once, had no immediate response. Mammon’s shoulders slumped, and Levi's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Asmo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out, while Beel’s expression darkened in quiet contemplation. Satan clenched his fists, the anger rising, though not directed at anyone but themselves.

"Why?" Levi muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Because," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the hall as he approached them, his expression serious, "they didn’t believe things would change. MC had been struggling for some time, and none of you noticed. They felt abandoned. They were overwhelmed, and by the time you realized, it was already too late."

The silence was suffocating as the future King of the Devildom regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You failed," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the room, each word a sharp blade. "You were given one task—one simple requirement as part of this exchange program. To make MC feel welcome. To make them feel as if they belonged. To get to know them and have them know you in return. To foster understanding."

The brothers stood in a line, shoulders hunched, guilt pressing down on them like a heavy weight. None of them dared to speak.

Diavolo’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his disappointment palpable. "And you," he said, his voice soft but laced with reprimand, "I expected better of you."

Lucifer flinched at the words. His usual mask of calm confidence shattered under the weight of Diavolo’s gaze. For a moment, he felt utterly powerless, a sensation he had long fought to suppress.

"You let this happen under your watch. You let MC suffer to the point where they felt they had no choice but to leave the Devildom behind entirely." Diavolo’s words were like a hammer, each one driving the guilt deeper. "You let them slip through your fingers."

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Satan could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, their usual bickering and antics gone, replaced by the crushing realization of how badly they had failed. This wasn’t just about MC’s disappearance—it was about everything they had overlooked, every word they hadn’t said, every opportunity to make things right that they had ignored.

Diavolo took a breath, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you pushed them away."

The silence was heavy, unbearable. None of them could meet Diavolo’s gaze.

"You will return to the House of Lamentation and reflect on what has happened here today," Diavolo said, his voice a final command. "I hope, for all our sakes, that this failure teaches you something."

With those parting words, Diavolo turned his back to them, and the brothers were left with nothing but the weight of their failure pressing down on their shoulders.

They sulked back to the House of Lamentation, each one lost in their own thoughts, their usual banter replaced with a somber silence. They had been too late. MC was gone.

Lucifer

Lucifer sat in his study, the heavy silence of the House of Lamentation pressing down on him. The others had retreated to their rooms, each of them nursing their own guilt, but Lucifer remained still, staring at the open diary on his desk. MC’s words were a stark reminder of his failure—his failure to see, his failure to act, his failure to protect. The very thing he prided himself on—his ability to maintain control, to ensure perfection in everything under his watch—had crumbled in the worst possible way.

Failure.

The word echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless force. Lucifer's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his anger rose, burning in his chest. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he, of all people, have been so blind? He had always maintained order, ensured everything ran smoothly. He had taken on every responsibility, every burden, to prevent things from falling apart. But this...this was a disaster.

It was intolerable.

The weight of Diavolo’s words still hung heavy in the air: I expected better of you. The sting of those words cut deeper than any reprimand he had ever received. Diavolo had placed his trust in him, and he had let him down. Worse, he had let MC down—an innocent, fragile human who had come to the Devildom trusting they would be safe, that they would find a place here.

Lucifer stood abruptly, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. His usually composed demeanor shattered as the rage he had been holding back erupted. He slammed his fists down onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Papers scattered, and the sharp crack of wood under pressure reverberated through the air.

How had he missed it? How had he, with all his precision and attention to detail, been so oblivious to MC’s suffering? His grip on control, his obsession with perfection, had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so focused on maintaining order, on keeping his brothers in line, that he hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming right in front of him.

And now, it was too late.

MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even waited to see if things would change, if the brothers would make things right. They had made their decision, and it was a resounding statement of just how much Lucifer had failed them.

His chest tightened with frustration. He had been so focused on pushing MC to adapt, to fit the mold he thought they needed to fill, that he had ignored the reality of their struggles. He had looked at them through a lens of expectation rather than understanding, and now they were lost to him. To them all.

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in the storm of anger and guilt coursing through him. This failure—the bitter taste of it—was unacceptable. He couldn’t undo what had been done. He couldn’t change the fact that he had let Diavolo down, that he had let MC down.

But he could make sure it never happened again.

Slowly, Lucifer opened his eyes, the flames of anger still burning but now tempered by a cold resolve. He would not allow this to break him. He would not allow this failure to define him. He had to remain strong—not just for himself, but for Diavolo, for the Devildom, and for his brothers.

But deep down, the rage simmered, a constant reminder of his imperfection, his weakness. He had been shown the one thing he hated most: his own limits.

Failure.

It was something Lucifer would never forget. And never forgive. Not himself, and not the others.

Mammon

Mammon sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence in the House of Lamentation was deafening, pressing down on him in a way that made his chest feel tight. MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

His first instinct had been to brush it off, like he always did. Make some flippant comment about how MC would be back soon enough, that they just needed a little time to cool off. But as the hours passed and reality settled in, the truth was undeniable.

MC wasn’t coming back.

"Dammit..." Mammon muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his hair as if that could stop the thoughts running wild in his head.

He replayed the last few weeks in his mind—the constant teasing, the jabs, the way he’d brush off their efforts with a casual, "Oi, don’t be so useless." He never meant it. Not really. It was just how he talked, right? But now… Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve sounded to them.

How it must’ve felt.

He always thought MC knew he didn’t mean anything by it. They were just words, stupid little insults thrown out without thinking. It wasn’t like he actually thought they were useless. Hell, he was actually starting to like them—though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Why did he always do this? Why did he push away the people he cared about, acting like they were some kind of nuisance when they weren’t? It was just… easier that way. It was easier to hide behind the tough guy act, to pretend like nothing bothered him. But it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

And now it was too late.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet room. "I didn’t mean any of it..."

But what good did that do now? They were gone. MC was gone, and it was his fault.

Mammon’s heart clenched as he thought about all the times he’d made fun of them, all the times he’d called them a burden, a hassle. He’d acted like MC was just some human getting in the way of his plans, but the truth was that they had become more important to him than he’d realized.

He didn’t show it—he didn’t know how—but they mattered to him. They made him feel different, like he wasn’t just the "Great Mammon," the greedy demon who was always causing trouble. When MC looked at him, it felt like they saw something more, something better. And now? They were gone because of him.

Mammon kicked his legs out in frustration, his shoes thudding against the floor. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he always have to mess things up? He had the chance to make MC feel welcome, to make them feel like they belonged here, and he blew it.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Yeah, I know!" Mammon snapped at the empty room, his voice harsh with guilt. "I know I screwed up! I get it!"

He sat up suddenly, running his hands down his face in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be their protector, their guardian. They were his pact holder, he was their first. He was supposed to look out for them, not drive them away. He hated that feeling—the helplessness that came with realizing he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t just throw money at it or charm his way out like he usually did.

MC was gone, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mammon stood up, pacing his room. His mind raced, thinking of what he could’ve said or done differently. Maybe if he’d just told them how he really felt, if he’d stopped pushing them away and acting like they were a bother… Maybe they wouldn’t have left.

"I should’ve been better," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should’ve told ‘em… I should’ve made ‘em feel like they mattered."

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with the gnawing regret that he might never see MC again. They were back in the human world, and they’d never want to come back to the Devildom, especially not after how he and the others had treated them.

He was the Great Mammon, sure. But what good was that title if he couldn’t even keep the one person who actually made him feel like he was more than just his sin?

With a choked sob, Mammon collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to fall.

He’d failed them. There was no getting around that. And the worst part? He’d never get the chance to make it right.

Leviathan

Leviathan sat in front of his monitors, eyes staring blankly at the paused screen of his latest game. His headphones sat around his neck, the usual buzz of online matches long forgotten. The quiet of his room wasn’t the kind he liked. It wasn’t peaceful or calming. It was suffocating.

MC was gone. Back to the human world. They had left without saying anything, without a word, without… him knowing. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone until the others started talking about it. And now that they weren’t here, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

Levi chewed on his thumbnail, anxiety swirling in his gut like an endless whirlpool. How could he have missed it? How could he not have seen what was happening right under his nose? His stomach churned with guilt as he thought about the way he’d treated MC since the moment they arrived.

Normie.

That was what he called them. Over and over again. He’d pushed them away, called them a nuisance, acted like they didn’t belong. He had no idea if they liked anime or games, but instead of giving them a chance to show they could understand his world, he had shut them out before they could even try. Why? Because they weren’t like him. Because they weren’t part of his world. Because it was easier to call them a "normie" and keep them at arm’s length than it was to let someone else get close.

Levi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself. Why did he always do this? Why did he always ruin things before they had a chance to be good? He had been scared—scared that MC would judge him like everyone else did, scared that they would see how awkward, how pathetic he really was. So he kept them away, treated them like some kind of animal when really… he had wanted them to be a part of his life.

They had tried. He could see it now, in hindsight. MC had tried to talk to him, had tried to get to know him, had actually listened to him when he'd rant. And what had he done? He’d dismissed them. Pushed them away. Called them human or normie—never their name—as if that was the only thing they could be.

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at his insides. If only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own insecurities, maybe things would have been different. Maybe MC wouldn’t have left.

But they did.

Levi curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the realization settled in. They were gone, and it was his fault. His fault for being too afraid to let them in, too scared to admit that maybe he wanted them around more than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed them until now, until the space they used to occupy in the house, in his life, felt empty.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Of course I did," Levi muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "I always fail."

He had failed to be a good brother, failed to be a friend, and now, he had failed MC.

"They must think I hate them," Levi whispered, his chest tightening painfully. "They probably think I never wanted them around." His voice cracked, and he quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, but it didn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall.

Because that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Levi wanted them around—he had liked having them around. But how could they have known that when all he ever did was push them away, call them a normie, and act like they didn’t matter? He had been too caught up in his own head, too worried about them seeing the worst parts of him, to let them see the good.

Now they were back in the human world, far away from him, and he had no idea if they would ever come back. And if they did, why would they want to come back to him? The shut-in otaku who made them feel like they didn’t belong?

"Stupid," he muttered angrily, wiping his eyes again. "I’m so stupid…"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. What if MC never came back? What if they decided to stay in the human world forever, away from all the pain and rejection the Devildom had offered them?

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the what-ifs piled up in his mind. They were gone. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to tell them the truth, that he wanted them here, that he—needed them here.

But now it was too late.

With a deep, shaky breath, Levi sank into his tub, curling up again as his anxiety wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.

It was always too late for him.

Satan

Satan sat in the library, the silence around him sharp and oppressive. The book in his hands remained unopened, his mind too preoccupied to focus on anything but the gnawing feeling of guilt twisting in his chest. MC had left. Gone back to the human world without so much as a word, without waiting for anything to change.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly as Diavolo’s admonishment replayed in his head. You failed them. The words stung more than he expected, not because they were untrue, but because they were painfully accurate. He had failed them. They all had. And now the damage was done.

Satan wasn’t like Lucifer. He didn’t thrive on control or perfection, but failure still left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it was something that could have been prevented. He prided himself on understanding things—on reading people, situations, emotions. And yet, somehow, he had missed what was right in front of him.

I barely even acknowledged them, he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as the realization sank deeper. When MC first arrived, they were just another part of the exchange program—an obligation. Someone he was forced to tolerate. He had never thought of them as more than that.

They had tried to speak to him on several occasions, asking questions, trying to understand the world around them. He had dismissed them each time. Not out of cruelty, but out of indifference. There were always more important things to focus on, more pressing matters in his mind. Books to read, knowledge to gather. What did it matter if a fragile human was feeling out of place? He’d barely given them a second thought, and now that they were gone, that indifference was coming back to haunt him.

Satan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t angry at MC—not at all. He was angry at himself. He should have seen it. He should have recognized the signs. But instead, he’d brushed them off, barely looking up from his books when they entered the room. It was no wonder they had felt invisible. To him, they had been.

"How could I have been so blind?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the edges of his book.

His dismissive attitude had hurt them, but it wasn’t just the indifference—it was the frustration. The few times he had acknowledged MC, it had been with impatience. He’d grown annoyed when they asked questions, irritated when they didn’t immediately grasp the complex information he threw at them. He had expected too much from them. Expected them to just understand a world they’d only just entered.

I was unfair.

The admission grated on him, but it was the truth. He hadn’t given them the time or attention they needed. He had treated them like a distraction, like an inconvenience. And for what? Because they weren’t like him? Because they didn’t understand things as quickly as he wanted them to?

It was absurd. It was… disappointing. In himself.

Satan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, trying to keep the anger in check. His temper was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of anger he could lash out at. It wasn’t something he could destroy or control. This was guilt—a slow, burning guilt that twisted in his gut and left him feeling powerless.

I failed them, he thought again, the words echoing in his mind like a relentless chant.

They had left because of him. Because of the way he treated them, the way he ignored their presence. The diary had made it clear—MC felt like they didn’t belong, like they were a burden. And he had done nothing to change that.

He had let them slip away. And now they were back in the human world, far beyond his reach.

Satan stood up abruptly, pacing the library with sharp, determined steps. He hated this feeling—this powerlessness. He wasn’t like Lucifer, obsessed with perfection, but he wasn’t one to accept failure either. Yet here he was, unable to fix the mess he had helped create.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his hand hovering over the spines of the books. Usually, the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge would calm him, would ground him. But now? It just felt hollow.

Books couldn’t solve this.

Knowledge couldn’t solve this.

For once, all the intellect in the world meant nothing. He had failed MC not because he lacked understanding, but because he hadn’t cared enough to try.

He closed his eyes, frustration boiling in his chest. "I should’ve done better," he whispered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I should’ve listened."

But it was too late. They were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

For someone who prided himself on knowing so much, Satan realized now that he had understood so little. And that knowledge—more than anything else—cut deeper than any reprimand Diavolo could have given him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus sat in front of his vanity, staring at his reflection. Normally, he would be admiring the flawless way his skin glowed, the way his hair framed his face perfectly, or how his latest outfit highlighted every one of his best features. But today, the usual spark wasn’t there.

MC was gone. They had left the Devildom and returned to the human world, and they hadn’t even said goodbye.

Asmo frowned, twisting a lock of hair around his finger as he glanced down at the collection of beauty products scattered across his vanity. How could they have left like that? Without saying anything to him? No farewell? No goodbye hug? They had just… disappeared.

And they didn’t even tell me?

That part stung. He was Asmodeus, after all. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, to tell him what was going on in their head before leaving? It wasn’t like he had been mean to them—he’d been nothing but fabulous! He’d complimented them, given them fashion tips, even helped them choose outfits when they were looking drab.

He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. "I don’t understand," he murmured to himself, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. "They could’ve at least told me if something was wrong."

But as he thought about it, something uncomfortable started to settle in his chest. He hadn’t exactly treated MC like someone who mattered, had he? They were just the new human, someone for him to toy with, to dress up like a doll, to show off. He had treated them more like an accessory than a person. Every compliment he gave was followed by a backhanded comment about how they could do better, how they could look more fabulous. He had made everything about their appearance—about how they looked, what they wore—without ever thinking about what they wanted, how they felt.

And that diary entry… the one about him.

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

Asmo’s heart clenched uncomfortably as those words echoed in his mind. They hadn’t been meant for him to read, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. MC thought they didn’t matter. That they weren’t enough for him.

That wasn’t true! He had thought they were cute from the start. Sure, they had a long way to go in terms of style and confidence, but he had liked being around them. In his own way, he had enjoyed their presence. He just… never said it. Never showed it beyond superficial praise.

Had he really made them feel like that? Like they were just some toy to be discarded when something more interesting came along?

He bit his lip, eyes dropping from the mirror. "I didn’t mean to make them feel that way," he whispered, a strange knot of guilt tightening in his chest. "I just wanted them to look their best, to be their best."

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? MC hadn’t needed someone to tell them how to dress or how to look. They had needed someone to tell them they belonged, someone to make them feel like they were important beyond appearances.

Asmo sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—this heavy, nagging sense of regret. It wasn’t like him. He was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in the Devildom. People flocked to him for advice, for attention. Everyone loved him. So why did it matter so much that one human didn’t?

Because it wasn’t just any human. It was MC.

They had trusted him. They had spent time with him, laughed at his jokes, let him play with their hair and help them pick outfits. And what had he done? He’d brushed them off like they were just another pretty face, like they weren’t worth getting to know beyond the surface.

And now they were gone. And it was his fault.

Asmo twirled a ring on his finger absentmindedly, the usual sparkle of his jewelry doing nothing to lift his mood. "They probably think I never cared about them," he muttered, his voice soft. "And maybe I didn’t… at least, not the way they needed me to."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. He had cared more about how they looked than how they felt. He had been so focused on making them into something he could be proud of that he hadn’t stopped to think about what they needed.

And now they were back in the human world, thinking they were never good enough for him. Thinking they didn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked or what outfit he’d wear tomorrow. He was thinking about MC—about how he had hurt them without even realizing it. And that guilt, that realization, clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the vanity and burying his face in his hands.

But it was too late now. MC was gone. And all the beauty in the world couldn’t change that.

Beelzebub

Beel sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. His usual appetite was gone, a strange hollowness taking its place. The silence felt heavier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside him.

MC was gone. They had returned to the human world. And he hadn't even cared that they had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as the thought settled in. He hadn’t paid much attention to them, hadn’t really thought about them as anything more than a human—something fragile, something that he wasn’t supposed to eat. They were just there, part of the exchange program, someone to tolerate but not worth focusing on.

Beel sighed, glancing at the uneaten food on his plate. It didn’t make sense to him. Why did it feel like something was missing now that they were gone? He hadn’t been particularly close to them. He’d never really taken much interest in what they did or said. They were just… human. And humans were something he didn’t think about much, aside from the occasional urge to eat one. But even that wasn’t really a problem. He knew better.

But still, the fact that they were gone—it didn’t sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he thought back to the few interactions they’d had. Whenever he saw them, he’d mostly been focused on food. Sometimes he’d make offhand comments about how they smelled different, or how they might taste good, but that was just the hunger talking. He didn’t mean it personally. He had never meant to make them feel uncomfortable.

But maybe he had.

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

He frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. They were right. He hadn’t cared one way or the other. To him, they were just another face in the Devildom, another human who wasn’t supposed to be eaten. He’d never gone out of his way to talk to them or get to know them.

He hadn’t thought they mattered.

But maybe they did.

Beel sighed again, his large hands resting on the table as he stared at his empty plate. He hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome, hadn’t shown any interest in them beyond his usual blunt, hunger-driven remarks. To him, MC had just been part of the background, something he didn’t need to think about.

But now they were gone. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he had missed something important.

He had seen how the others treated MC—the teasing from Mammon, the indifference from Satan, the distance from Levi. He had heard the way Lucifer demanded more from them, how Asmo insulted them under the guise of advice. Beel hadn’t said much, hadn’t gotten involved, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it either. And now that he thought about it, that made him just as guilty as the rest of them.

"They must’ve felt so alone," Beel muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. "And I didn’t do anything to help."

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much now. Maybe it was because MC had been part of their lives for a while, and now that they were gone, there was a strange emptiness where they used to be. He hadn’t realized how much he had gotten used to seeing them around, hearing their voice, watching them navigate the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

But now that they were gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Beel stood up, pacing the room slowly. He wasn’t like Lucifer or Satan, always thinking things through, always analyzing the situation. He didn’t think too deeply about the people around him most of the time. But now? Now he wished he had paid more attention. Maybe if he had, MC wouldn’t have felt so isolated, so invisible.

"They were more than just a human," he muttered, a pang of guilt hitting him. "But I never treated them like they were."

He hadn’t thought they mattered, and that was his biggest mistake. MC had been a part of their world, even if they were human. They had been right there, trying to find their place, and Beel had done nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, hadn’t meant to make them feel like they didn’t belong—but his indifference had done that anyway.

And now, it was too late.

Beel stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and staring down at the floor. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t like hunger—he couldn’t just eat something and make it go away. This was different. It was guilt, and it was heavy.

"I should’ve cared more," he whispered, his voice quiet in the empty room. "I should’ve made sure they knew they were welcome."

But they hadn’t known. And now they were back in the human world, far away from all of them.

Beel clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. He hated that they had left feeling like they didn’t matter. He hated that he hadn’t done anything to make them stay.

But what could he do now?

[themultifanshipper]

The crash was horrible. You scared yourself and everyone else when your car hit the wall with a sickening crunch. But the person you scared the most was Sebastian.

Warnings: Smut, oral, squirting, plot is similar to my other Seb fic (it was based on the same prompt) but this one is more angsty and fluffy and the vibes are completely opposite lmao, but the smut is also disgusting, barely edited tbh

His car had minimal damage, so he was just going to carry on, but the glare of flames in his mirrors was enough for him to panic and stop the car to go and help get you out of the flaming wreck, despite Christian shouting at him to continue over the radio. He just couldn’t leave you, never mind what he portrayed to the cameras, you meant too much to him and he would never have forgiven himself if he’d been that selfish.

But by the time he got there you were already out of the car, being helped across the gravel by a marshal. As he approached, you threw your helmet at him and screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? PULLING A MOVE LIKE THAT YOU COULD HAVE GOT US KILLED! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE MICHAEL SCHUMACHER OR SOMETHING YOU B-"

You jumped on each other at the same time, scratching and punching at each other like children, and the marshal was forced to call for reinforcements to get you separated.

Later, during post-race interviews (you'd both been banned from the press conference) you were asked what happened and you got incredibly wound up again just talking about how careless and dangerous Seb’s move was.

Your press officer moved you off quickly to avoid any further incidents, but unfortunately for her Seb arrived at that moment, and you noticed that he looked rather pale, but that didn’t stop him from going straight to the interviewer you were just talking to.

“So, Seb, tell me about the incident, and what do you think of your rivalry with, uhh-” She glanced over to where you were standing only a few feet away, waiting.

Seb looked at you before answering. “She’s a promising talent, and no doubt she is beautiful, but she shouldn’t be in formula one.”

Before you could jump on him and cause another scene, you were dragged away to your post-race debrief before being sent back to the hotel.

Unbelievable! You crashed because of him, ruining both your races. And he had the audacity to say you didn’t belong in formula one? What a fucking joke! To say he was out of line would be an understatement, but of course, if you complained you would just be labelled as emotional, or immature, or god forbid, on your period. That’s one you had gotten once during an interview and the man swiftly ended up with a broken nose, which of course didn’t help your image, but it felt good none the less. What didn’t feel good was how little Seb had seemed to care about what happened. He could have killed you, he could have killed himself.

Hours later, you were still seething with rage when you heard a knock at the door.

The last person you expected to see when you opened it was Seb.

“I have nothing to say to you” You tried to slam the door in his face but he blocked it with his foot, making him wince.

“I know, but I just want you to know that I wasn’t playing for the cameras when I ran to get you on the track, I was worried I had caused you-“

“Oh give me a break! You crashed and saw an opportunity to look like the bigger person and come recue the damsel in distress but guess what? I didn’t NEED you Seb!”

“No, I didn’t crash! Christian told me to keep going but I stopped the car for you!”

You frowned at him, gears turning in your mind. “You stopped the car? Why the hell would you do that?”

He sighed frustratedly “Because I panicked! I saw fire and I was worried about you!”

“Oooh you were worried about me!” You parroted in the meanest tone you could muster, ignoring the beating of your heart at his words “You were worried about me because I don’t belong in this tough manly sport of yours is that it?”

He paused at your words, seemingly hurt at the implications behind them.

“You shouldn’t be in formula one, I stand by that. But not because you’re a woman, or a bad driver. It’s because I don’t want you in formula one. I don’t want you to be in that kind of danger, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch!”

Tears prickled your eyes as you took a step back from him. “So I should just give it all up huh? I should give up my dream just because you’re scared of hurting me?  What the fuck is wrong with you? I chose this! I chose motorsports for the adrenaline! The competition! The passion! What I didn’t sign up for was you crashing into me every chance you get because you can’t handle being beaten by a girl!”

Tears were properly streaming down your face by now, and you went to push Seb out of your room, but he caught your arms and pinned you against the door instead.

“Let me go Seb! Get out!”

No! You’re misunderstanding me and I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say! I care about you because despite you being a constant bitch around me, I’ve seen your real personality! And as much as you hate me, I just can’t bring myself to hate you! I didn’t want to save you to look like a hero, I wanted to save you because the thought of losing you was just-” he got choked up and you could see tears forming in his eyes as they stared intently into yours. “It… I-”  He took a deep breath “It would have been too painful.”

You gulped. “Seb, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you, and I’ve loved you since-“

You surged forward and kissed him.

He reciprocated quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer.

You honestly couldn’t say how long the two of you made out in the dark corner of your room for, but after a while you both ran out of oxygen and had to separate, breathing hard. His hands slid down to your thighs, picking you up easily and carrying you swiftly to the bed.

It became a competition to see who could get their clothes off faster, and you laughed at each other as you struggled to get your race suits off.

Once you were both naked, he climbed over you and started the long expedition over your curves and dips, kissing and marking every expanse of skin he came across. You writhed and squirmed at the attention, needing him to just get on with it. When he finally got up to your mouth, he was hard and you could feel his dick poking at your thigh.

“Please Seb, I need you to fuck me now” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to get him closer, but he refused, instead sitting backwards and kneeling between your legs to get a look at you.

“Calm down Schatz, I need to prepare you first, I don’t want to hurt you” he said soothingly, running his hands up and down your thighs before stopping just shy of your folds, using his thumbs to spread you open for him.

“God you are so wet for me” he groaned and dipped a thumb inside before bringing it to his mouth, sucking your juices off and groaning even louder. “And you taste so good, baby, fuck!”

He dipped a finger in gently, then two and pumped them a few times, making you mewl, before pulling them out and sucking them clean.

“I’m obsessed” he panted “I’m sorry baby, I need to taste more.” And with that he dove down and devoured you like a man starved, running his tongue over your lips and clit with gusto. His fingers soon joined and he hit that spot immediately, over and over. You quickly felt an orgasm building in your loins as your thighs tightened around his head and you fingers tugged on his hair.

“Seb, I’m so close baby!”

“I know” he growled and doubled down on his efforts, making you writhe in pleasure as the pressure building in your stomach became too much as he assaulted your clit with his talented mouth.

Your orgasm hit you so hard you couldn’t even get a breath in to make any noise as you came all over his face and chest.

He sat up over you and you saw that his hair was drenched, plastered to his forehead as drops of your cum slid down his nose and landed on your body.

He was grinning like a maniac, ecstatic at having made you come so hard you squirted on him.

“That’s never happened before!” you panted but he just smashed his lips to yours and grabbed your face, spreading wetness all over you both as his chest lay over yours.

It was disgusting.

But so, so incredibly hot.

“Fuck me now, please Seb?”

“Okay Schatz, your wish is my command” and with no further ado, he rubbed his tip through your folds a few times before sinking into you all the way to the hilt.

He was so thick it was hard to breathe as the stretch knocked the breath from your lungs, and you clung on to him for dear life.

It didn’t take either of you long to come, and you did so almost simultaneously, foreheads touching, breathing in each other’s air, wrapped around each other as tight as possible.

You being incapable of walking just yet, he carried you to the shower and helped you wash, giggling as the sensation of his hands scrubbing over your skin made you ticklish.

It’s only when you got out of the shower and looked in the mirror that you noticed the marks he had left from his earlier ministrations. Small bruises littered your legs, hips, stomach, chest and neck.

“Dammit Sebastian! It’s summer and you’ve turned me into a dalmatian!” You shrieked, but he just laughed and smacked your ass on his way back to the bedroom.

“I’m serious! I can’t go out in public like this!”

He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “Now everyone can stop flirting with you”

You tuned around in his arms “Awww, is my Sebby jealous?” You cooed.

He huffed “I am not jealous, but I am yours” he smiled, leaning down and kissing you.

He finally had you after years of loving you, and he was going to savour every second of it.

Of course the first person you saw the next morning was Jenson freaking Button.

He took one look at you, in shorts and a tank top, dozens of hickeys on display, then at Seb who had just appeared behind you in the lobby, connected the dots immediately and shrieked in laughter, attracting the attention of the few other drivers who had come down early for breakfast.

You were never living this down.