#lib x reader

[sorrowmoons]

The comforting sounds of rain

Wiggog Y’wrath/Wiggly x Gn!Reader

CW- Ooc Wiggly, reader is depicted with hair, angst leading to comfort <3

Requested by a mutual!

The stinging pain before the tears felt like torture. You tried holding back your emotions. Take on the day with a tight, polite smile. Each conversation ending with a bitter taste.

You had tried getting through the day with no tears. You really tried. But one small thing piled on another, and another, and another… you couldn’t take it. As soon as your work shift ended, you bolted out of there. You needed to get away from all the loud noises, the people, everything. Everything just felt so.. overwhelming.

But as you watch the road drag on, the town stores becoming houses, the houses becoming trees, you drive on. You had debated going home, changing into something less itchy and sit on your couch. It had seemed nice—being in the comforts of your own home, away from peering eyes. But you remembered the mess that was waiting for you when you get back. The thought alone overwhelmed you, making a pit in your stomach.

So you drove on, the cloudy skies darkening with each passing moment. Droplets of rain scattered across your car windows, thudding against the roof. It created a sense of comfort. The sound had a certain melody to it that calmed you down always. You eventually make it to a small pond, parking just in front of it. You turned your car off, leaning back in your seat as you watched the pond. The way the water rippled, the leafs of trees dripping water droplets across the grassy ground. After a moment, you release a breath you didn’t know you had been keeping in. You opened your car door, stepping out of it and onto the dirt road. You walked closer to the pond, not caring the water starting to seep into your clothes. You eventually found a tree, large and filled with leaves. So many, you couldn’t even see the sky penetrate through them. You sat under it, a dry spot waiting for you. It was still in perfect view of everything around you. You leaned into the trees bark, grounding yourself. Your hands played along the roots of the tree, feeling the texture of wood and grass and dirt. Doing this helped you stay within yourself, not drifting away. After a few moments that felt like an hour, you felt pressure on your shoulders, sides and legs. You looked down, seeing familiar tentacles wrap around you in a soft, embracing way. All the overwhelming thoughts that you kept bundled in your mind went away, fogging up. You stayed still, watching more tentacles embrace you. One caressed your check, sliding to your chin. You took breath in.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” A voice spoke close to your ear. Though no one was there, you heard it. The familiar, comforting low voice. You blinked a few times, trying to think of something to say. But as you tried, you couldn’t quite place what to say. Did you even know why you’re upset?

“I.. I don’t really know.” You mumble, leaning into the tentacles that grazed your face. “I think it could be numerous things piled up. Maybe.” You mumbled again, the rain almost louder than your voice. But Wiggly could hear.

Suddenly, a hand replaced the tentacle. Before you could realize it, it wasn’t the bark that you leaned on, rather, a chest. You breathed in, the familiar smell embraced you. Wiggly would often find out your favourite scents, manipulating them around you. You always smelt something nice and relaxing when he was with you.

Your hand found his on your face, placing yours on top of his. You squeezed it very slightly. Talking wasn’t the thing you did best when feeling like this. Once you started talking, the words felt like vomit. Wiggly knew this, and opted for touches of acknowledgement. His long, lithe fingers found your hair. Twirling the strands around his hands playfully. Sometimes, if he knew you were up to listening, he would ramble about anything. He’d save any talk of chaos, rather interesting things he’s seen recently. You would listen, enjoying the comfort of his voice and presence. This wasn’t one of those times though, you just needed a moment to collect your thoughts. But sometimes being in your mind was exhausting.

“While I’m not the one to rely on for human needs, I believe it is good if you sleep, dear. You look tired.” He spoke lightly, bringing you closer into him. His legs pressed against yours, his larger farm closing you in. You had never felt so secure before. His tentacles would sometimes reappear, caressing you. Sometimes, in similar situations, you would turn around, placing your head into the crook of his neck. You don’t know how long you would do this, but he just waited. You don’t know why he did. Why he cared so much. But each time, when you fell asleep, he was there. Often, if you ended up asleep in his arms, you’d awake to the comforts of your bed, tucked in. Why an entity capable of such horrors took kindly to you? You didn’t know. One day, maybe, you will find out why. But for now, as you lean against him, your body practically molded into his, you escape the life of stresses; of responsibility. Wiggly made you feel as if everything would be okay. A hope that there is something to look forward too—to love and appreciate.

Hours later, You awake, feeling well rested and a lot less anxious and overwhelmed. You were in your bed, the night sky shining with thousands of stars. You were thirsty, so you walked out to your kitchen. You dreaded the mess you remembered of piled up dishes, but as you walked in, there was nothing. Nothing besides a small note resting on your counter. In neat hand writing, it says,

“I do hope you feel much better as you read this, my love. Please, summon me anytime you feel the need of my assistance. Oh, and, Nib took care of the dirty plates.”

You grab a cup of water, heading back to bed. You smile as the note rested with you in your mind as you went back to sleep. There was something in life that you can look too for comfort. To some its friends, family, pets. For you, it’s a horror not many people know exist. But he was everything to you. And, eventually wiggly came to terms with it, you were everything to him.

[library-ghoulette]

With You Always

Pairing: Copia (Frater Imperator) x gn!reader (lightly implied, that forehead kiss can be platonic if you want it to be)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Second person POV, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst

Words: 931

Summary: Papa V Perpetua's ascension and catchy new single raise difficult feelings for Copia. Luckily you're there, and you know all the right things to say to assuage his insecurities.

A/N: I wrote this because I have been both listening to "Satanized" on a loop and feeling the need to comfort my comfort character all day long.

You can also read this and all of my other fics on ao3!

Blasphemy! Heresy! Save me! From the bottom of my heart, I know—

"You're doing it again."

"Hm?" You look up, confused, from the invoices you've been filing. "Doing what again?"

Copia is seated at his desk, staring at his computer, brow furrowed and a sour expression lining his face. He doesn't look up at you when he answers.

"Singing."

"Oh." Your cheeks color with embarrassment. The new song has been stuck in your head since it premiered last night—to much fanfare for the new Papa—but you hadn't realized that at some point you had actually begun singing along under your breath. "Sorry, Pa— Frater. I'll keep it down."

He gives a little hmph in reply, and you return to your filing. The office—it used to be Sister's office, but you're just about used to the larger space being Copia's now, used to the new uniform, used to most of the changes even if your tongue still stumbles on the new title from time to time—fills with the soft sounds of papers shuffing into folders and the clicking of Copia's mouse. It's relaxing… Well, kind of. Just when you think to yourself that his clicking is starting to sound a bit aggressive, you hear him swear at the computer with a level of vitriol that frankly seems a bit much to throw at a humble spreadsheet.

"Everything okay?" you ask timidly.

"Of course everything is okay. Why would it not be okay?" Copia replies, voice tight in that way it gets when things are decidedly less than okay.

"You've just seemed a bit on edge today? Since the premiere?"

He gives you a brief look over his shoulder before quickly looking away. "I'm fine."

"You know, if you want to talk about—"

"I don't."

"Okay." You shrug, slide the file cabinet drawer closed with a satisfying thud, and open the drawer for the next range of letters. Continue transforming chaos to order, one form at a time. You've known Copia long enough and worked with him closely enough not only to clock his tells, but to know that he will break in three, two, one—

As though on cue, he sighs heavily and pushes back from the desk,rolling his chair around to face you.

"It's not even that good, this song, you know? 'Satanized'? 'Urges to burst'? What the fuck is that?"

"It is awfully catchy," you venture.

Copia snorts, incredulous. "Catchy? You know what song is catchy? 'Rats' is catchy. Now that's a lead single. I was nominated for a Grammy with that one, you know."

"I know."

"And 'Call Me Little Sunshine'!" Copia continues, triumphant. "Another Grammy nomination! And I could have won, too, if…"

But he trails off, and in the heavy silence following that if, you hear what is left. If there had been a third album cycle. If he was still Papa. If he'd had just a little more time…

Copia abruptly turns to gaze out the window, jaw set, his eyes glistening. You know that he's not really seeing the early spring day on the other side of the stained glass.

After a moment, he asks, "They seemed happy, didn't they?"

"Who?"

"My— the ghouls. In that video, they seemed happy." He swallows hard. "With him."

This isn't about Grammys, you know, or tours, or albums, or movies, or any amount of success that can be measured in accolades or dollar signs.

You close the space between you, coming to stand at Copia's side, close enough to reach out and thumb away the tear tracing its bitter path down his cheek.

"They're not going to forget you," you say softly. "You know that, right?"

"They already have."

"No, listen to me." You apply gentle pressure, turning his dear, sad, stubborn face up so that he has no choice but to look at you. You repeat, more forcefully this time, "They are not going to forget you. Not the ghouls. Not anybody. I mean, how could they?"

And now it's your turn to blink back the tears prickling your eyes.

"How could anyone forget everything that you've given to this Ministry? Yes, the songs, the tours, the movie. But it's more than that. You've touched millions of hearts, given countless people joy and comfort and a sense of belonging."

"But— but I'm not Papa, anymore."

You shake your head. "It doesn't matter. The entire Ministry, everything we're doing here? It could end tomorrow, and you would still be with all of those people forever. Your songs, your words, memories of nights filled with music and magic, all of that love… Nothing can undo that. Not time or distance or different outfits or some new guy in a shiny mask."

Copia chuckles in spite of himself, the laugh causing more tears to fall. But these he quickly wipes away, and takes your hand in his. "Such a stupid mask."

It's a pretty cool fucking mask, but wisely, you keep this thought to yourself, instead reassuring him, "There are plenty of people who still consider you their Papa."

For the first time all day—honestly, for the first time in longer than that—some of the tension melts out of Copia, his shoulders dropping out of their anxious hunch. He runs his thumb over your knuckles and asks, almost shyly, "And what about you?"

"Me? You even have to ask?" You bend down and press a kiss to his forehead, feeling the worried creases there smooth a little, as though your kiss is a balm to his very soul. "You'll always be my Papa."

[slamminslamminmcgill]

stepdad!joel and you celebrating thanksgiving with your family and when they start arguing over some bullshit the two of you sneak off to hotbox his truck and ride him in the drivers seat

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Satoru Gojo x Reader 3

Third part to these

After the incident two weeks ago, you had decided to make another appointment with your local child therapist. Your daughter had recently relapsed back into violent behaviour and you were now at your wits end. "I've tried taking her phone and even unplugging the internet but nothing seems to be working doctor!" The man on the other end was scribbling notes down. "Have you ever thought about group counselling?" _________________

"Honey, c'mon, I'm taking you to that new convention!" You groaned. You knew your mother was trying to help with your depression but you were still in the five stages of grief. Currently, anger. You thought about setting fire to some pictures of Gege that you had printed off but you decided against it. Fire now just made you think of fraudkuna. "Yeah, yeah mom..."

It was now ten minutes into the drive. "Are you sure this is the right way?" Your mother was now sweating bullets while trying to come up with an excuse. "I promise we're almost there pookie!" The car then drove up to a familiar building. "Hey, wait a minute! This isn't what we agreed to!" Your mother sighed. "Dear please don't make this difficult. You don't want me to get the leash out again do you?"

You stuck your tounge out and refused to exit the vehicle. "Fine, have it the hard way. The receptionist soon heard screaming and the doors burst open. Your mother had a dog leash around your neck and was now dragging you to your appointment while you tried to fight her off in vain. "Ah. Room 236!" She opened the door and flung you inside. "You better behave or no chicken dinasour nuggets for dinner!" could be heard down the hall.

"Damn it!" you cursed. You hated seeing your therapist. "Why hello (insert Gojo stan you know here). Now your mother informed me that you are in a state of severe depression which resulted in maladaptive daydreaming."

"Nani? What's that mean?"

"It's a mental health issue that occurs when you spend a large amount of time daydreaming. You've made up a fantasy scenario in your head about, what was it?" The doctor looked through his notepad. "Mojo Gojo?"

"HIS NAME IS GOJO SATORU AND HE IS THE STRONGEST SORCERER ALIVE!"

"...Yes, well. That's what I'm here to help deal with. I have another patient that is similar to your case. I believe that group therapy sessions could help the both of you. Now let me introduce (insert Sukuna stan you know here)."

"What the fuck are you doing here!?" You began to scream at the other girl. Unfortunately the two of you were well acquainted. She also went to your school and was part of your anime club. The two of you frequently fought over who had the better husbando, often landing yourselves in after school detention. "You have shit taste! Everyone knows Gojo sama is the strongest!"

The other girl cocked her head and smirked. "If he's so powerful than why did he lose? Out of all the fish in the sea, he's not that special!"

"YOU BITCH, I'LL KILL YOU!"

"HAHA, GO AHEAD! BRING IT ON!"

You crossed your fingers and uttered the phrase "Domain expansion. Infinite Void!" You then rushed at your opponent.

"Domain expansion. Malevolent Shrine!" Next thing you knew and you were getting cut up with a switch blade. "Cleave!" The doctor sighed. "Not again. How many times have I told you, no weapons!" He grabbed her by one of her oversized kimono sleeves and dragged her away.

"Now girls, you know mojo gojo and simpkuna aren't real, right?" The other girl got up to stand on her chair. "FOOL! You shall address the fallen by his full name, Ryoumen Sukuna, King of Curses! Now get on your knees and beg for mercy, you peasant!" The doctor took out his notepad and began to write something.

- Patient one is worse than last time - Tattoos are now done with permanent marker - Seems to believe that they are in love with the devil - Strongly recommend sending patient to a local church

While your enemy was fuming, you were laughing at them. "Aww, did someone get their husbandos name wrong?"

"Shut it, kouzo!"

"Yowai mo!"

"THAT'S IT, FUGA!"

The fire department was now on scene. During the fight, you were overcome with a strong smell of gasoline. Then the match was lit. That crazy bitch. "Damn! She really just tried to cook me!" The doctor was giving his statement to the police when your mother drove up. "Oh my god! Please tell me you're all right!"

You tired to push her off you. "I'm fine mom! See!" You tried to show her that you had no third degree burns. "I'm not maki!" Your mother was about to question what you meant but then decided that your safety was the priority. Suddenly an officer showed up. "Mam, we would like to speak with you."

Your mother was relieved that you didn't start an arson attack but was disappointed to hear that you instigated a fight. "I'm sorry sweetheart. There will be no dino nuggets tonight!"

"But mom-"

"ENOUGH! NOW GET IN THE CAR!"

The other child watched the situation unfold and began to laugh maniacally. "All right, off to juvie with you!" She let the officers take her away. "I've got time to kill. Hopefully Asmus releases my Sakuna sama preorder by then!" 

[louebel]

GRRR THIS WAS SO CUTE 😭

One Piece Headcanons ༝ Hug Away The Pain

Characters: Zoro, Law

Trope: Their favorite hugs, cuddles and squeezes

A/N: Life isn't always rainbows and butterflies. We're talking pirates - battles, rough seas and scallywags, BUT - a good ol' hug / squeeze is able to factory reset you and your lovable danger mossball / danger mushroom. So, what are you waiting for? Hug it like you mean it!

Content: for female readers / Wholesome - enveloping you in cotton candy (don't eat too much of it though ok?)

⚔︎ 'Levatating' hug Zoro loves to hear you laugh, if he had to be honest, he can’t get enough of it. You are the most beautiful when smiling, therefore the swordsman is on an unending quest of making you happy. Naturally, as lovers, closeness and intimacy are the number one joybringer. Besides his awareness, Zoro can’t bring himself to show you the love he has in store for you that easily. Who would have thought, a strong and stoic swordsman would be shy? But you musn’t fret, there is a hug he is able to give you as many times your little heart desires. As if you weigh nothing, he lifts you from the ground by embracing your hips and holds you up into the air, looking at you as if you are his biggest treasure ever found. And subsequently, after he finally heard that sugar sweet chuckle of yours, Zoro slings his arms around you even tighter, holding his oh so adored woman as close as possible. All that, while still lifted up, your legs dangling helplessly, but you don’t mind. Not at all.

“(Y/n)! You did so well out there, delivered quite the show, dove!”

Running across the now calmed battle field, up to your beloved swordsman, you jump into his arms. Zoro catches you with ease and lifts you from the ground, giving you a thorough look to assure you are alright. His onyx eye mellows by aknowledging your well being and continues:

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Of course, I made a promise to you, remember?”

To your sassy tone, Zoro can’t help but snicker lowly and he closes you in, pressing you against his chest to fully embrace his adorable kick ass woman. You giggle into the crook of his neck, your legs swaying from left to right from the green-head’s subtle and steady cradling in place.

“Zoro?”

“Mhm?”

His deep rumble reverberates through your body and you face him with a warm smile, planting a small kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“I love you.”

“A-Ah yeah . . love you too.”

The swordsman’s stoicism fades for a moment, abashment washing over him as he hears your soothing voice. Quickly gaining back his composure he asks you in a blurt out:

“Did you use the technique I showed you last time?”

“Yes! They didn’t stand a chance!”

Zoro huffs at you in amusement, now rubbing your nose with his:

“That’s my girl.”

⚔︎ Big spoon When it comes to sleep, you are talking to an expert of ‘snoozage’. The master of sudden power naps and catching Z’s. Nobody can compete with his level of constant ‘slothness’, you however make it a rather heartstring pulling experience, challenging even. With you laying beside him in your cute pyjamas, Zoro cannot supress the wild flush on his face, which he pathetically tries to hide from you by slamming his lower arm over his eyes. What’s worse, is when you snuggle up against him, be it facing or showing him your delicate back, pressing yourself closer to his radiating body. In response, his massive arms pull you close, caging you in. This is one of the most vulnerable states you’ll ever see him in, for your marimo lets all the pent up enregy and intrusive thoughts go, nuzzling his head into your neck and delving in your scent.

With your mouth wide open, you let out an exhausted yawn, tears of tiredness gathering in the corners of your eyes. Stretching your arms and legs, pointing away from you in all directions, you groan in the end, rubbing the back of your neck:

“I’m so tired.”

“Then go to bed.”

Zoro prompts, crossing his arms as he watches you sway from left to right in all drowsiness, struggling to stay awake to finish your work.

“Nnoo, I can’t, I have to complete this- oi! Wait! What are you-“

“You’re tired, then go to sleep. End of story. What’s so hard to understand that your body needs rest?”

Without any hesitation, not even bothering to bring up an announcement, he lifts you from your seat and heaves you over his shoulder, making his way to your room. There is no chance for you to escape his grasp in your state, thus you just accept your fate, hanging in there like a limb noodle. As you arrive, it’s a short kept process of flinging your clothes to the ground and simply flop onto the soft and comfortable mattress.

“Um Zoro? What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping with you. What . . you don’t want to . .?”

It isn’t just you, who decided to get some rest apparently. Shamelessly undressing himself, Zoro answers your question in the most misunderstanding way possible, which ends up with you being all flustered and bubbly. With a shy nod you accept and invite him over to bed, lifting the sheets. After all, this is a rather rare occassion.

“Alright, scoot.”

At first, the awkwardness silences the room to it’s entirety, nothing else is to be heard except of the waves crashing against the Sunny. Restlessly, you toss and turn, nervous about this ‘situation’ you find yourself in. Now laying on your side, facing away from the man next to you, Zoro snakes his arms around you and pulls you closer to his frame. If you wouldn’t know it any better, he’s a living heating pad, a bundle of pure energy warming you up from the core. This is where you begin to relax, sighing in relief and letting go of your troubled thoughts. The same goes for the swordsman behind you, giving the nape of your neck a gentle kiss, before he mutters lowly:

“Why don’t we do this more often?”

⚔︎ Bear hug That's the only hug you genuinly fear for your life. Two strong arms enclosing you and seemingly never letting go. A tiny squeak escapes your lips, as Zoro’s strength overwhelms you, squeezing the air out of your lungs. However, you can’t begrudge him, the way he smiles and brims with utter joy melts your heart, not able to tell your lover off. It would shatter you to see him take back with a disheartening frown. And who are you to deny your dear swordsman’s ‘strong’ affection. Alas, your bones get cracked and popped once in a while, retaining you from your next chiropractic session - it’s a win win, don’t you think?

“Love, guess what I got you?”

“Please let it be sake . .”

After a rough day of fighting off Sanji all day, keeping the shitty cook away from his ‘property’, meaning you, Zoro takes a seat next to you at the dinner table. Deftly sneaking a bottle of sake from behind your back, you place it infront of him and give it a nudge to the green-head’s direction. He grins over both ears, rumbling in appreciation. You can see how hesitance lets his movements stutter, arms reaching for you, but come to a stop. Taking a good look around in the kitchen to make sure the coast is clear, he wraps you up completely, after realising nobody’s around to watch his slip of softness towards you. This hardly could be called ‘softness’, for he nearly crushes your bones and innards to his obliviousness.

“Ack-! You’re welcome honey! Could . . please . . o-ow!”

“Oh shit. Sorry I . . I’m just sick and tired of this shithead hiding my drinks.”

Rolling your shoulders is the aftermath to the overwhelming love you just received, already used to it you shake it off in a chuckle. How much you adore this green-beast of a man, hence you kiss the tips of your fingers and press them against his lips.

“Glad I could be of any help to you, Zoro.”

Swallowing audibly, he flashes you a cocky sneer that barely musters to choke his fluster.

“Sweet thing, trust me when I tell you, that I would give you more than just a hug right now . . that’s how much I appreciate your help.”

Oh . .

❦ 'Sufficational' hug Law is quite shy regarding to physical contact, nevertheless isn't opposed to it. The crux to his uncertainty, to show his affection towards you, is the fact others might deem him soft or weak if caught red handed, something his pride would choke upon. Alas, he keeps his hands to himself, however if he catches you alone, you cannot escape this monster of a man, hugging you oh so tightly that your air intake gets dangerously restricted.

Strolling through the city, where the Polar Tang came to a stop at it's harbour, you are on your way to the markets, as out of nowhere, someone pulls you into a dark alley. In fear that it might be a mugger, you try to scream for help, but a large hand covers your mouth.

"(Y/n)-ya, keep it down will you? The others might hear."

"What the actual- Law?! Are you attempting to mug me?"

"You could call it that."

A deep chuckle escapes him, as he pulls you into his chest and encloses you in his embrace, arms hooking under yours. The inked fingers graze along your shoulder blades and he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, soaking in your scent and warmth. If you wouldn't know it any better, you could think he's feeding on some sort of strange addiction.

"Erm, Captain? I can't breath."

To your dismay, he squeezes you tighter.

"Love, you're practically mugging the air out of my lungs!"

"Don't worry, I'm an expert at CPR."

Yeah no kidding. Forcefully you manage to shuffle your way out of his death grip and bark at him:

"Apologize! First you scare the shit out of me and now you're hugging me to death? 'Hugger of Death' might be more of a suitable title for you!"

"Oh, shut up already. And why are you talking about apologizing, do you want me to say sorry that I love you?"

Oh that little-

❦ Blanket / Anxiety plushie hug There is no better pillow than Bepo. You however are strong competition for the polar bear mink, for your feminine softness and comforting warmth has a certain appeal to the doctor. Therefore, as soon as you get to bed, he either throws you over his body like a blanket or tucks you underneath him, laying his tired head on your chest, tummy or thighs. Your chest being his favorite, the sound of your calmly beating heart lulls him into deep slumber. If he decides to prop you on top of him, he mostly struggles with his inner demons, dark thoughts clouding his mind. Hence, you act like an anxiety plushie to him, pressing your weight all over his tall frame, giving him the possibilty to find peace and solace, dozing off in no time.

It's one of those nights again. Law's insomnia kept him working until late of night, close to morning, and finally disperses after hours of endless medical paper reading. The door to your shared room creaks open and the tall, slouched figure drags itself over to bed. You lift the blanket and invite him over with open arms.

"Did you defeat lady insomnia?"

In response, he only nods is head, groaning tiredly and putting his fluffy hat aside, hands gliding through unkempt raven hair. Basically throwing his clothes off, not even considering to put on his pyjamas. With nothing but boxers hanging loosely from his hips, he lets himself fall onto the mattress beside you. You chuckle.

"Come here."

You don't need to tell him twice. Law's heavy head lays on your chest and he nestles his cheeks against your skin. The prickly sideburns adorning his jaw tickling you mildly. Attentively listening to your heartbeat, his index finger on your tummy taps to the rhythm. Smiling to his absentmindedness, you play with his dark locks:

"Sleep well."

"Mhm . ."

❦ Entangled hug A rather uncomfortable looking option, but it turns out to be quite the opposite, though you cannot even explain how you ended up in a human knot in the first place. Sitting next to eachother on a couch, his legs for days entangle with yours and your arms awkwardly wrapped around his torso, how is this even possible? Despite the game of cuddly twister, Law finds it to be amusing, seeing you fighting your way out of his stronghold.

Side by side you sit on a couch in the common room, you draw sketches in your notebook and Law reads a rather large book, at least a thousand pages thick of content for him to induldge in. Bepo calls out to the both of you:

"I'm on my way to the control station! I'll see you later guys!"

"Yes Bepo."

"See you!"

Finally, the coast is clear. As soon as the sound of the door closing reaches his ears, Law instantaneously pulls you in, heaving your legs over his and snaking his arm around your shoulder, pressing your head against his chest. You on the other hand squish into his embrace, not sure where to put your arms, awkwardly holding onto your notebook.

"Uh, Law? Could you maybe . . give me some space? I want to draw-"

"Oh umm . . yeah."

"You know, as much as I love to be all tangled up with you, I really want to finish this."

Law's little heartstrings are getting pulled from how you nuzzled up against him and that adorable smile you just flashed, leaving him an all jittery mess. Playing it cool he utters:

"What are you drawing?"

"Oh, I started drawing Bepo, when he sat over there at the counter."

Proudly you present the rough pencil sketch of the polar bear resting his fluffy cheeks on his paws. Law huffs musedly and lays a palm on top of your knee, his cheek snuggling against yours:

"You have a good eye, it looks . . good."

"Weren't you going to say cute?"

"Absolutely not."

By all means, of course he thought it to be cute, adorable even.

[liiixsturniolos]

Singer!reader x rapper!chris hc

more here

rapper!chris ... can't keep his hands off of you anywhere you are. At awards shows, at home anywhere, he will be grabbing your waist or your ass definitely.

rapper!chris ... records your moans and adds them into the background of his songs. Fans eventually hear the faint ad-lib noises..

rapper!chris ... loves when you wear his clothes, he'll beg to swap underwear for the day which you find hilarious, and he'll give you his shirts to sleep in.

rapper!chris ... pretend punches your ass as a joke- when you're led on your stomach on his bed, he'll creep up behind you and slap and punch your ass gently.

rapper!chris ... plays your songs while you have sex, he thinks it's so funny to fuck you while your voice sings in the back.

rapper!chris ... puts you on his album cover, a photo he took of you in a flower garden, which surprises you as you'd have assumed he would've picked a less innocent, cute photo of you.

rapper!chris ... keeps you in the studio whenever he can, you'll sit on his lap while he raps into the mic and you help make beats for him, sometimes singing on his songs too.

rapper!chris ... asks you for your autograph as a joke, and makes you sign it on his arm, which eventually he'll have tattooed on him.

hpe you liked this! comments, likes, follows, re-blogs, any interaction is appreciated!!! Ily!

taglist: @matthewsroses @bull3t-f0r-my-v4l3nt1n3 @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @st6niolo @madifilipowiczslvt

[dolloie]

princess treatment —riize

you once dreamed of being a princess so they treat you like one! : riize as act of service.

pairing riize x female reader. genre fluff, established relationship. warnings kissing, skinship, foods, not proof-read. lib

— osaki shotaro, having you as his passenger princess

listen, this man LOVE having you sit beside him with your favourite songs playing in the background.

he even has a whole playlist of your fav songs n his playlist for you </3

would take you on a late-night drive with him >:)

it's either he came unannounced or he will likely text you before.

if he didn't text you that night, you need to be prepared..

because he will show up in front of your door with a bouquet of flowers in his hand

and it'll be your favs too 😞😞

he also will drive you to the drive-thru of your fav restaurant!!

you're bored, hungry, sad? just text him 🤷🏻‍♀️

and he's coming right away!

not to mention the stargazing date with you.

he literally has the picnic mat in the backseat of his car.

trust me he have EVERYTHING prepared.

just for you fr 😝

— song eunseok, holding out a door for you

it's doesn't matter if your hands are full of not because when you look up

the door has already been opened WIDE for you

the car door, the restaurant door, the shops door.

literally every door.

even if you ask him to open the bathroom door for you, he will.

like he doesn't even hesitate 🙏🏻

you'll have his words when he said he will open every door for you.

he was ready the whole time.

making sure he walk before you so he could lead you to the door and open it for you!

mostly he will wrap his arm around your waist and lead you to the door,

while his other hand is pushing the door open.

sometimes he will even bow like a gentleman for a joke just to crack you up.

eunseok is just a silly guy </3

— jung sungchan, piggy back ride everytime you want

we all can see the vision, you don't tell me you don't 🤨

cause look at this man??

he's literally 186 cm and you don't see him as the act of service piggyback ride???

bffr girl... he's the typa man who would randomly pick you up.

you don't need to ask cause my man is willing to do anything for you.

he would be all giggly while spinning you around with a childish smile on his face.

he notices the way you walk slowly than usual then he would bend down in front of you.

without any word, he pats his back signaling you get on him.

like!!! where can you find another when he's like this 😞

he would hold your shoes while carrying you on his back.

he will tell you to rest your head on his shoulder.

secretly love when you play with his hair, rambling something to him.

chat, he's not listening at all..

your voice is too soothing for him to even pay attention.

— park wonbin, letting you wear his clothes

it's usually when you come over and stay over for a night.

he would offer you to wear his shirt if you don't bring any.

even if you bring he would insist you to wear his 😵‍💫

he loves seeing you in his clothes.

especially those big hoodies that makes you look small.

he will melt right away as soon as you walk out from his room wearing his shirts.

he love when you scent stay on his shirt.

he might not wash it (jk)

if you said that you're planning to stay for a night,

he will prepare his shirts for you.

so you don't need to bring yours!

sometimes he likes seeing you walk around his apartment while wearing his shirt,

especially when his members stay under the same roof as him.

it'll makes him think that he could show that you only belongs to him.

— hong seunghan, letting you wear his shoes when your feet hurts

he himself just screams out the act of service.

you knew going to an amusement park while wearing heels wasn't a very good idea.

especially with this hyper and suupeeerr curious boy.

he would drag them out of you to everywhere.

the rollercoaster, the merry-go-round, anything you name it.

but he would notice the discomfort displayed on your face.

like immediately.

"are you okay? do you wanna go home?" was the first thing he asked after seeing your expression.

he's asking like the world would end if you were not comfortable.

and of course you would tell him that it's okay.

doesn't take him so long to notice that your feet are actually hurting ( you stumbled a lot while walking )

he would stop in front of you and take off his shoes, telling you to wear it.

"are you gonna walk barefoot?" "we swap it" "it's not gonna fit you" "i don't care, as long as you're comfortable"

— lee sohee, singing you to sleep

we all know sohee has an angelic voice.

i could hear him singing and talking all day, nonstop.

and will never be tired 🙏🏻

he'll learn your favorite songs and sing it for you through the night.

sometimes it'll be a lullabies or slow song.

but that can't compete to his song.

he will LITERALLY wrote a song for YOU.

he has a whole album of a songs that he wrote.

all dedicated to you <3

in his songs,

you will hear the sound of you laughing, humming in the background.

he put every audio clips that he record when he's spending his time with you.

even a voice notes that you sent to him

like.. im so down bad

bonus:

the cover of the album would be your childhood photo or the photo of you and him

— lee chanyoung, holding your hand to warm you up

so i just thought the cutest aos for the cutest boy..

and this came up 🥹🥹

i think it suits him very well cause he's just a shy boy who wants to show his love to you!!

he will notice right away how your hands shiver slightly.

i see the vision where he's too shy to ask if he could hold your hand or not..

of course you'll let him cause who wouldn't 😴

glance at your hand and back to your face awkwardly.

took you a while to realize that he might want to hold your hand.

if you hold his hand for him, his cheeks will turn bright red immediately!!

however, if HE decides to make the first move..

he would quickly take your hand and put it in his pocket.

but if you expect him to look at you after the sudden action?

he wouldn't, 100% im so sure.

© callanton's ( 🎐 ). please do not steal/translate/repost without permission!

[louebel]

him cries

absolutely love your writing 😭 you write law so in character its so good. i want to see laws reaction to reader accidentally (or not) discovering his nerdy sora comics collection. ty 💛

Hi!! Thank-you so much, that's an honor 🥺 I'm a lil obsessed w him istg (more than a little but anyways) here you go, I hope you enjoy it!!

You're acting weird. To be fair though, in a crew as diverse as the Heart Pirates, "weird" is a subjective thing and depends on who Law is meaning.

You're acting weird for you. There's an odd jumpiness to you now, specifically whenever Law is involved ㅡ and he wonders if he's done something wrong.

Your relationship is still fairly new to you both, still trying to find the perfect balance between professionalism and something softer and more intimate.

Law mentally filters through your interactions (both as crewmates and not) and when he comes up with nothing, he decides to ask you.

"Have I done something to upset you? I'd like to know so I can fix it." He watches confusion flicker across your face, then guilt.

"No, you didn't do anything." You bite your lip, a habit he's been trying to break you of. Instinctively, he reaches to press his thumb against your bottom lip, tugging it free of the worried knead of your teeth. "Promise you won't be mad?"

Now it's Law's turn to be confused. "It depends on what you did," he answers honestly and immediately kicks himself for the way you shrink back. "As long as it has nothing to do with the integrity the Polar Tang and you haven't sold us out to the Marines, it can't be that bad."

That at least gets a ghost of a smile from you. "As if I'd ever do either of those," you tell him, a hint of pride in your voice. The Polar Tang is your home, and the Heart Pirates are your family.

"Continue," he prods gently, and the nervousness returns to your expression. He gives you a moment, watches as you steel yourself before you blurt in a tumbled rush of words,

"I maybe sort of accidentally found your Sora Warrior of the Sea comics."

It takes him a long moment to parse out what you've said, and you watch as his expression shifts to an unreadable one, brim of his hat shadowing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," you say, feeling even worse than you have the last couple of days. "I didn't mean to, honest. Bepo needed a copy of a report from a few days ago and I thought I'd seen you put it in one of the drawers andㅡ" You halt, voice wavering. "I'm really sorry."

You mean it. He knows you do, knows you'd never breach his privacy without good reason ㅡ even as close as you are now, there are things he's not ready to talk about, or show.

In the grand scheme of things, the discovery of his carefully curated collection of beloved comics is not the end of the world. Hardly a punishable offense, even though you're clearly expecting him to be pissed.

"It's okay, [Name]." He watches as you visibly relax, though there's still a nervous edge to you. "I'm not upset, just...surprised."

"Understandable," you mumble. "For what it's worth, it's a nice collection. I wanted to get into it when I was younger, but I never got a chance to."

He perks up a little at that, latches onto the opportunity you've given him. "If you'd like," he says, "we can read them together. If you want, I mean."

Another little flake off that careful barrier he's built around himself, another soft spot exposed ㅡ trusting you not to abuse it. As if you ever would ㅡ his trust in you is one of your most teasured things.

"Law?" He looks at you, taking in that wonderful smile he'd do unspeakable things to protect. "I'd love that."

[diamonddaze01]

ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ♡✧

pairing: hong jisoo x gn!reader genre: fluff, friends to lovers | wc: 2.65K summary: Joshua is drunk. You know this because he keeps smiling at you. a/n: this is entirely inspired by ep.1 of nana tour where shua is drunk and is just smiling at everyone like ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ the entire time // i love this boy with my whole heart // flashbacks are in italics!!!

Joshua Hong is drunk; you can tell. 

As the fire starts to slowly die out but the raucous laughter still rings out around the beach, Joshua keeps catching your eye. And it's because he's drunk. It's not the way his nimble fingers have stopped playing intelligible chords on his trusty guitar ("her name is Susan," he had told you the first night you slept over, too drunk to make it home after a rager), nor is it the way his rap battle with Chan had stopped making sense 4 verses ago. No, you can tell Joshua is drunk because every time he looks at you, he smiles. 

It's not his normal smile, warm and reassuring. No, this smile is reserved only for you, you realize. His eyes scrunch into upside down Us and his mouth scrunches up, and he looks like an emoji, and it's possibly the most endearing thing you've ever seen. And that smile, that adorable emoji smile, is how you know two things for sure: First, Joshua Hong is drunk. And second, you're hopelessly, irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The first time Josh smiles at you like that, he's dragging you home after one of Seungcheol's infamous parties (or you're dragging him - honestly, who knows?).

"Your house is too far," he pants, half from exertion, half from laughing too hard at heaven knows what. "You can sleep over at mine, I have extra sh-" his statement is interrupted by a burp, and the two of you dissolve into giggles all over again.

"Ew," you say, wiping tears from your eyes as you tamper down on a giggle threatening to escape you. "Joshua cooties. Jooties!"

He slips his arms through yours and drops a sloppy, drunken kiss into your hair. "Mmmm," he hums.. "Jooties. Yes." And then he smiles at you, and it feels like the world has dropped from under your feet.

It’s not the typical grin you’ve seen him flash countless times—no, this one is different. His eyes crinkle so deeply at the corners, turning into soft crescents, and his mouth curves upward in a way that makes his whole face light up. It’s the kind of smile that’s so sincere and pure, it seems to melt right into you, warm and gentle. His cheeks lift, and there’s a playfulness in his expression that feels intimate, like you’re the only one who gets to see this side of him.

And for the first time in two years, your heart skips a beat. Joshua Hong has never smiled at you like this before, and it’s the first time you wonder if maybe you love him.

The dying fire pops and Soonyoung jostles against you on accident, shaking you from your reverie. Joshua had already been looking at you, and when you meet his eyes, he smiles again, and it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest.

Needing a break from Mingyu's never-ending ad-libs, you nod your head away from the group, and he stumbles his way over, the corners of his mouth still twitching upwards as you lead him to a quiet stretch of the beach.

"Where are we going?" he asks, tripping over the consonants a little.

“Just wanted some fresh air,” you reply, settling on the cool sand. Joshua flops down next to you, the remnants of laughter still bubbling in the air.

The stars twinkle above, a cosmic array that feels almost too magical to be real. Joshua gazes up, his eyes wide and shining. “Do you think… do you think the stars have feelings?” he muses, his tone dreamy and childlike.

This is the part of Shua you love the most, you realize - the boy who always has so much wonder and curiosity about the world. “Like… what do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re up there all the time, shining away. Maybe they feel lonely?” He turns to you, his expression earnest despite his earlier drunken shenanigans. “What if they just want someone to look at them?”

The second time Joshua smiles at you like that is on a summer night, only a few weeks after Seungcheol’s party. You’re both lying on the grass outside your apartment, too tired from the long day at the beach to make it inside.

His leg is casually brushing against yours as he points out constellations.  His hand grazes yours, and you will yourself to be very, VERY still, your heart racing in your chest as you focus on the warmth radiating from him.

“Look!” he suddenly exclaims, pointing to a star twinkling especially bright in the dying summer light. “It’s the happiest star in the galaxy!”

You glance over at him, catching the way his profile is softly lit by the stars and the dim lights from your yard. He looks like a dream. You tear your gaze away, following his finger up into the sky. “Happiest star, huh?” you ask, trying to play along even though all you can think about is the heat from his skin. “Why’s that?”

Joshua turns his head toward you, and when you look back at him, you see that smile again. His eyes crinkle in the most endearing way, like they’re scrunched shut from happiness. His lips curve into a soft, easy smile that stretches across his face—completely unguarded, completely natural. His whole expression radiates warmth and affection, like it’s the kind of smile that could only exist when he’s with you, in this moment.

It’s so genuine, so full of quiet joy, that for a second, you feel like the whole world stops, and it’s just the two of you, lying under the stars.

“Because it knows how special we are,” he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. And for a brief, dangerous moment, you almost lean in and kiss him.

But you quickly look back up at the sky, heart pounding, only to notice that the star seems to be getting closer and closer. “Shua,” you say, laughing nervously, “that’s a PLANE, you idiot.”

You both burst into laughter, your bodies shaking as the absurdity of it takes over. When you finally calm down, you glance back at him, and he’s still smiling that same sweet, irresistible smile, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It makes your chest ache, and that’s when you know you love him.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm, Shua?" You keep your eyes fixed on the stars above, afraid that if you look at him again, that smile—the one that makes your heart twist in all the best and worst ways—might undo you completely. One more glance, and you’re not sure if you’ll kiss him, cry, or both.

"Do you think the stars want someone to look at them?" His voice is soft, words slurred just enough to remind you how much he's had to drink. His hand reaches out, fingers lacing with yours. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quicken through the skin of your wrist, but you stay perfectly still, pretending it’s nothing more than another casual touch.

“Maybe,” you whisper, your voice barely loud enough to compete with the sound of the waves. You don’t dare look at him. “Or maybe we just like talking to them because they’re the only ones we can be honest with, you know?”

Joshua hums, a low, thoughtful sound. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for a second, the space between you feels smaller than it ever has before. "Maybe..." His voice trails off, the words slow, like he’s working through the haze of alcohol. "Maybe we should tell the stars a secret."

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something fragile about this moment, something you’re both teetering on the edge of, but neither of you is willing to leap. His hand stays in yours, warm and steady, grounding you even as the uncertainty lingers in the air between you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the faintest trace of that smile—the one you can’t quite get out of your head - and you tell the stars your secret. 

It’s quiet for a beat. Two. The waves crash against the shore, and you time your breaths to the sound of the tide. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you tell the stars?” he murmurs, voice slower now, soft and pliant. It sounds like love, you think. 

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, heart beating louder in your chest as you speak. “That’s a secret.”

Joshua shifts beside you, sand crunching softly under his weight. He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost hear him smile. "Wanna bet it’s the same secret?"

The teasing edge in his voice catches you off guard. You turn your head, just enough to see the glint in his eyes, the lazy grin spreading across his face. “What are we betting?” you ask, almost breathless.

He leans in slightly, the smell of salt and campfire clinging to him, his voice dropping as he says, “A kiss.”

(For the record, you should have seen this coming. Sweet and doe-like as he can be, Joshua Hong is Yoon Jeonghan’s best friend)

The third time Shua smiles at you like he loves you, it’s a rainy July afternoon and you’re swaddled in blankets in his living room. Love, Actually is queued and forgotten on the TV as you and Josh throw popcorn into each other’s mouths. 

When you miss for the 12th time in a row, Josh looks over at the movie, and then back at you, eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place. “You know, if we keep watching these cheesy rom-coms, I might just end up believing in love at first sight,” he teases, his voice light.

You snort, nudging him playfully. “Is that so? Careful, or you might fall in love with me.”

He leans back, a grin spreading across his face, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire how carefree he looks. “Who says I’m not already?” 

You launch a pillow at his head to hide how stunned you are. “Shut up, Shua.” The room suddenly feels too hot - he’s too close to you, to the truth. 

Jeonghan picks the perfect time to walk in the door, and the moment is broken. As he and Joshua engage in yet another fight about Jeonghan’s annoying habit of not taking his wet socks off, you steal a breath and try to calm your fluttering heart. When you finally find the courage to look at Joshua again, he’s already smiling at you - soft, sweet, and full of warmth. It terrifies you and exhilarates you, and the world around you fades away. 

Your breath hitches. For a moment, the world feels like it’s tilting, like the stars have drawn closer, hanging low enough to brush against your skin. You swallow, heart pounding, and manage to keep your voice steady. “You’re drunk.”

Joshua just shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up like this is the funniest thing in the world. “That is a fact,” he says, still looking at you with those half-lidded, adoring eyes. “Want another?”

You glance away, the stars blurring above you, your mind racing. “Sure. Why not?” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant, even though every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire.

He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. His next words fall softly between you, barely above a breath. “I love you. That’s the secret.” His eyes are warm, and for the first time tonight, the drunken haze seems to clear for just a moment. "Now pay up."

For a second, you can’t move. The waves crash softly in the distance, the laughter from the group fading into a low murmur as you process what he just said. The words hang in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

You find your voice, though it comes out more as a whisper. “How did you know?”

He smiles again, softer this time, his thumb brushing your hand gently. “Because you have this one smile��� one that you only give me. Like I’m the only person in the world that matters.”

The air feels too thin suddenly, and you blink, your heart racing. “You have the same smile,” you manage to say, your voice breaking just a little, as if the truth has snuck up on you, too.

His grin widens, that familiar warmth spreading across his face like it always does when he’s pleased with himself. "Match made in heaven then," he murmurs. "Now pay up."

For a beat, you just stare at him, your mind blank, the weight of everything settling in slowly. Then, before you can think too much about it, you lean in. Your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters—but the moment he kisses you back, the rest of the world fades away.

Joshua’s hand moves to cradle your cheek, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly of alcohol, but underneath it, there's something familiar, something that feels like home. The heat from his body mingles with yours, and for a moment, nothing else matters but the way he feels against you.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, the world seems to settle back into place. The stars above twinkle faintly, and you’re aware of the soft crash of waves in the distance again. But Joshua’s still smiling—smiling in that way that’s reserved only for you.

“Told you it was the same secret,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Shut up, Shua.”

He laughs softly, his voice a warm rumble in the quiet night. “Can’t help it.”

The two of you fall silent again, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, the sound of the waves, and the stars twinkling above. You find yourself staring up at the sky, your hand still in his, as if nothing needs to be said. It feels like the universe is watching, waiting, holding its breath.

After a moment, you break the silence. “You remember that night… when you told me about the happiest star in the galaxy?”

Joshua chuckles beside you. “How could I forget?” He tilts his head back, eyes scanning the sky as if searching for that same star. “I told you it was smiling for us.”

You smile at the memory. “Yeah, and then you said it knew how special we were.”

His thumb brushes over your hand, the gesture gentle, like a reminder of the words you’ve both left unsaid for so long. “I guess I always knew,” he murmurs.

You glance at him, the soft glow of starlight casting his face in shadows, but there’s a light in his eyes, something quiet and real. “Knew what?”

“That we were special,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “You and me.”

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You turn back to the sky, feeling the same sense of wonder from that summer night so long ago. The stars are still shining, still twinkling like they’ve been waiting for this moment.

You let out a breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Think the happiest star is still watching us?”

Joshua smiles, and though you can’t see it fully, you can feel it—the same smile he’s always reserved just for you. “I think it’s still smiling.”

Neither of you says anything after that. The night stretches on, quiet except for the faint sound of the waves lapping at the shore. You lie there side by side, the cool sand beneath you, his hand still loosely holding yours. The sky above feels endless, full of stars that have seen nights like this before.

Somewhere in the distance, the stars twinkle, and Joshua looks over at you and smiles. 

[sorrowmoons]

How they’d tease you

Suggestive(?)

Wiggly -

Of course his tentacles come to play! He’d make them wrap around you—be it your waist, arms, legs, etc. they often just randomly show up… out of the shadows mostly. Sometimes when he’s in the room with you, he’d much prefer himself touching you, but he’d still use his tentacles to tease. He’d mostly do this if you’re focused on something other than him. Oh and he soooo randomly fully wraps you in his tentacles and pulls you closer to wherever he is. He wants to feel you in his grasp okayy

Nibbly -

He’s got a big tongue might I remind you.. where’s a better place to put it then on you? He randomly licks you, slobbers on you, etc. Thankfully he’s given you the ever so sweet gesture of not making his breath smell like rotting bodies. So don’t worry! He’d hover over you while you eat or make food and purposely drool. He finds it funny to see your reaction ! He’s like a big dog.

Pokey -

He’s a little hard to determine… but mostly he’d tease with random whispers. They come out of the blue, startling you. Although, they’re soft and teasing. It messes with you because it sounds like he’s right beside you—but you’re just hearing his voice. It sometimes can echo throughout the room you’re in too. For fun he likes to see your reaction when you hear familiar tunes coming from a place you don’t know where.

Tinky -

I see him being very overwhelming when it comes to physical touch. He loves to lay on you, to the point you can breathe. He basically smothers you in his fur hehe. Likes to nuzzle his face into your neck, too. He will also randomly say jokes and laugh and giggle at them, even if you’re distracted. Essentially, you’re just going to hear him giggle half the time. His teasing comes to play when he makes small jokes about you. He loves seeing you a little (jokingly, dw. He loves you I promise) offended by his jokes. It makes him laugh more!

Blinky -

Stares. Thats all I outta say. He LOVES to stare at you. And you know it because he’s not subtle. He’ll sit beside you and stare. Not just your face, but he watches you hands, your movements.. he basically watched everything you do. I can imagine you’re pushing his face away because he LEGIT WONT STOP STARING. Girl it’s because he loves you too much, dw. But he’s smug because he knows it can get you a little uneasy or embarrassed by his staring. He’s basically staring into your soul atp. He’ll eventually stop… only for a few moments. Then he’ll go right back to it.

[library-ghoulette]

Headcanons: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x reader who loves to bake

SFW, gender-neutral reader

Some cutesy fluff that I haven't been able to get out of my head all week. Because we've seen him go to town on that whipped cream in RHRN, we know this man has a sweet tooth.

He finds out about your hobby when you bring baked goods to a staff meeting or a Ministry potluck. "Who brought these cookies?" "Er, I did?" "So good... Did you get them at that little bakery in town?" "Oh no, I made them!" "You made them??"

He would never outright ask you to bake for him, but he can't help bringing up those cookies every now and then. Just... wouldn't it be nice if there were something sweet at the budget meeting next week? People would probably like that?

You bring a batch, plus a little box with a few set aside especially for him. You pass it over to him in secret so that no one gets jealous, and he falls for you, hard.

He becomes your go-to person to test new recipes on.

Loves to hang out in the kitchen while you bake, chatting your ear off the whole time and stealing little tastes of batter and handfuls of chocolate chips.

Wants to help, but you always end up banishing him to a stool a safe distance away from whatever you're baking. It's not that he's a fuckup, but he gets nervous when he's outside of his comfort zone, and that's when you get chaos in the form of dropped eggs and tablespoons confused for teaspoons.

Asks questions about what you're doing and seems genuinely interested even if he doesn't really get the technical aspects.

Yes, of course he wants to lick the beaters. And the spatula. And the bowl. Yes, it does send your mind to filthy places every single time.

Prefers brownies and cookies just slightly underbaked and gooey, warm out of the oven. He's impatient and hates having to wait for anything to cool down.

He's definitely one of those people who make nigh-pornographic noises when they eat something delicious. Exclamations and expletives, moans, praise.

He has so much confidence in your abilities that it borders on delusion. This is a man who will see the most heinous challenge on GBBO, one that reduces the contestants to tears, and scoff, "Heh! You could do that, easy!"

He's careful not to take your baking for granted or make you feel unappreciated. He knows what it's like for people to constantly demand more and more, and he's not going to do that to you.

Realizing that sometimes you get a sugar craving when you don't feel up to making anything for yourself, he teaches himself a simple recipe for those occasions. Yes, it's just a chocolate mug cake made in the microwave, but he's so proud when he makes it for you. He always adds a generous dollop of whipped cream and some of whatever sprinkles he finds in your stash, usually Halloween ones.

If you find some expensive piece of equipment or fancy ingredient or novelty cake pan that you want but can't justify buying for yourself, he won't rest until you let him get it for you. Or, if you protest too much, it will just show up on your doorstep one day.

The first time you make a birthday cake for him--pulling out all the stops with luscious fillings, homemade buttercream, fancy piping tips--he tears up. Just stares at it for a moment in shock before blowing out the candles. Barely wants to cut it. Insists that you get good pictures of it before he does. It's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him, and it makes him feel so, so loved.

[dykebeckett]

every person on the whole internet could be fully on board with wincest and those anime girls who look ten but are actually three hundred and this would still be happening because fan fiction and the reactions thereto have no material effect on anti queer legislation and by implying that “antis” are a factor in this you undercut your whole point and make yourself seem a foolish loser. and it calls the validity of your otherwise good and reasonable post into question! hello!!!

just saw a take that was eighty percent correct but they started the post by implying that shipping discourse was causing anti queer legislation. girlie you have to take off the horse blinders there are situations that aren’t online. oklahoma representative dusty deevers does not give one fuck about that. he is not concerned with protecting children from colleen hoover’s problematic breeding kink he wants gay people gone. you’re right about the censorship you’re right about the homophobia anti pro shippers are not relevant please im begging

[waynes-multiverse]

Florida!!!

Summary: One fishy monster hunt, one sweaty afternoon at the beach, and one innocent popsicle – Florida is fucking hell for Dean.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: +18 language and smut in the form of dirty fantasies, severe pining, one idiot in love, humor, Florida, one popsicle, unresolved ending & feelings

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: My entry for @chevroletdean's 500 Follower Celebration! Congrats again, lovely, and thank you so much for hosting this challenge and creating this awesome moodboard!! I was immediately inspired (and have wanted to write something set in Florida for an eternity). This was perfect and so much fun! 💛🧡🩵

Main Masterlist || DW Masterlist || Tag List

Florida can eat his ass.

Dean’s decided this at least seventeen times today. He has known this little fact since the first time he set foot here at nineteen, chasing a ghoul through backyards full of pink lawn flamingos and chainlink fences.

And Dean doesn’t mean the good kind of eating ass, either. Nope, he means the swamp-ass, sunburned, get-mauled-by-an-alligator kind.

Because no matter how pretty the scenery looks – sugar-powder beaches and sea-glass tides, slats of the boardwalk bleached bone-white under a honeyed sky – the whole damn state feels cursed.

It’s humid enough to drown standing still, and the sand sticks to everything, including parts of him he’s not ready to confront.

And between the humidity thicker than chowder and the scent of fried seafood and moldy flip-flops lingering like a bad decision, every drone-sized mosquito here is carrying at least three diseases and a vendetta. The crime rate also looks like a Mad Libs page: “Florida Man assaults alligator while wearing tutu and high on bath salts.”

It’s too hot, too wet, and too damn weird and crazy. Every breath here tastes like sweat, regret, and a hint of swamp water.

Florida’s not even a real fucking state. Can’t be.

Dean’s convinced it’s a bad trip someone had in the ‘70s that somehow got voted into the union. The sun feels less like it’s shining and more like it’s attacking. Everyone’s either a retiree, a guy named Skip with a neck tattoo of a flaming dice, or some batshit meth-head who thinks they saw Bigfoot behind the Waffle House.

Dean hates it with every fiber of his being. Florida is Satan’s back porch.

And now, thanks to a string of weird drownings at a no-name beach town outside Destin, Dean is trapped in the sweaty armpit of the country, baking alive in jeans, while trying very hard not to stare at you.

Which is impossible.

Because you’re right next to him in a little turquoise lounge chair and a skimpy bikini the color of wild citrus – or tangerine, maybe. You hum a little tune – that stupid Weezer song that only plays on the radio during summer. You kick your feet lazily in the sun, flashing him a smile so bright he’s pretty sure it could get him legally blinded.

The bikini strings are tied in neat bows at your hips, a popsicle melting bright mango-orange between your fingers, and you’re working the thing over like it owes you goddamn money with the most sinful mouth he’s ever had the misfortune of knowing.

All tanned legs and unapologetic sunshine. A vision of temptation under the molten saffron sun.

Dean sweats. Internally and externally. Better than that: He is cooked. Absolutely fried. Every casual motion of yours is branding itself into his frontal lobe forever.

Your tongue flickers out again – pink and wet and glistening – smoothing a drip from the rounded tip, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re currently starring in every X-rated daydream Dean’s ever had.

His vision whites out at the edges.

You hum absently, flipping through the manila folder in your lap. Your voice floats over, sweet as saltwater taffy. “So,” you say, casual and sunny, “are we thinking mer-creature, or like, a shapeshifter with a thing for boats and aquatic cosplay? Or what if it’s a water demon? Like a kelpie, but more murdery?”

Dean makes a strangled sound that’s supposed to be a word but comes out more like a dog’s dying whimper.

You blink at him. Tilt your head. Wait.

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah. Mer-thing. Whatever.”

“Or,” you muse aloud, tongue darting out again to lap at a drip, “maybe it’s like–… like a water wraith? Something that sucks the breath outta your lungs?”

You pop the popsicle out of your mouth with an obscene little smack. Dean’s mouth works soundlessly. Because all he can imagine is you on your knees, tongue slick against him, big eyes wide and innocent while you–

Focus, he barks at himself. For the love of fucking God, focus, Winchester.

Dean swallows hard, dragging his eyes off your mouth and back down to the battered folder in your lap.

This isn’t normal. He’s doomed. Maybe even cursed.

Yeah, that’s gotta be it. He’s probably been hit with a lust spell. Florida is full of weird shit, right? That would explain why he’s three seconds away from dropping to his knees and offering to be your loyal, desperate, sunburnt servant.

But then again, this isn’t entirely new either.

You’ve been driving him nuts for goddamn years. Laughing too loud at his dumb jokes. Sitting too close in motel beds when you both casually watch movies. Calling him Winchester in that honeyed voice that makes him feel like he’s being dared to fuck up and kiss you.

And still, he’s always been good. Good at pretending. Good at stuffing all that want somewhere deep under rib and bone and battered leather jackets.

But this? This is fucking torture. This is some bikini-clad Greek tragedy, starring one dumbass in boots on a beach who can’t stop fantasizing about licking saltwater off your thighs.

He should be thinking about the case. About that water-witch or whatever the fuck they are hunting this time. He should be thinking about hex bags and salt rounds, not about how your bikini bottoms ride up just a little when you stretch your arms over your head–

Stop it!

You lean forward to show him something on a photocopied page and tap a newspaper clipping about the latest victim – some unlucky fisherman who swore he saw a “golden-scaled woman” before getting dragged into the shallows.

But the little bow at your hip shifts, skin glinting like bronzed sugar under the clear sky. Dean makes a small, wounded noise in his throat, and his brain immediately supplies another vivid fantasy:

You perched in his lap, that bow coming untied with a lazy pull of his fingers, your thighs slick and hot against him, the ocean thundering in the tropical background while you ride him so slow it borders on a religious experience.

He blinks against the burning sun, feels himself slipping again, heat and blood rushing downward. The image hits him so hard he has to adjust himself in his jeans, subtle as a heart attack.

His dick twitches miserably.

He slouches lower, trying to think of anything not filthy – taxes, Sam’s hair care routine, the time Bobby caught him naked in the kitchen with a meatball sub – but it’s useless.

“Dean? You even listening?” you ask, laughing, poking his leg with your sandy toes.

Dean grunts something noncommittal that might be English, jaw clenched so tight he’s surprised his teeth don’t shatter. He tries to answer. Really, he does. But the words get bottlenecked behind the visual of you dragging your tongue slowly up the side of the melting treat.

You bite your lip, thoughtful, tapping the end of the popsicle stick against your mouth. “Maybe it’s something worse,” you continue. “Like a siren who doesn’t seduce you to death, just… I dunno. Sucks you off and leaves you floating.”

Dean’s soul physically leaves his body.

You tilt your head, grinning wickedly. “You want me to suck you off too, Dean?”

Time freezes. The ocean quiets. The gulls still midair. Dean’s pulse slams loud and dizzy in his ears. His world narrows to you, your suntanned legs, the glint of sea-salt crystals on your skin, your bright and glistening mango lips.

Jesus fucking Christ.

You just–

Did you–

He stares at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Huh? What?” he croaks, voice pitched embarrassingly high.

You blink at him, then repeat – slowly, sweetly, “I said: Should we check if it sucks the breath outta people like a leech?”

“Uh, yeah,” he croaks. “Suckin’. Life. Outta dudes. Totally.”

You stare at him a second longer, suspicious, before shrugging and going back to the file.

Dean exhales, trying to will his hard-on into submission through sheer force of shame. You’re systematically dismantling his ability to think in complete sentences. His entire brain is on fire.

His internal organs shut down one by one. He drops his head back against the lounge chair, squeezing his green eyes shut. He is too old, too tired, and too desperately in love with you for this shit.

The sun beats down, hot and merciless, painting everything in shades of clementine and burning copper. Apricot umbrellas dot the beach like slices of candy. The ocean blinks lazy and endless, a rolling quilt of bottle-green and blue-fire sapphire. Seagulls wheel overhead, shrieking insults.

Dean’s mind drifts again.

He imagines dragging you down into the frothy surf, your hands curling into his hair, your giggles swallowed by the sea.

He imagines you mouthing at his jeans, impatient and greedy, while the sun sets behind you in a tangle of electric clementine and bruised lapis skies.

He imagines you kneeling between his legs, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock like you’re taste-testing it, humming around him, sweet and filthy and happy about it.

He imagines you under the boardwalk, hips rocking against his like the waves, bikini strings snapping loose with frantic fingers.

He imagines you bent over the hood of the Impala, bikini tangled around your ankles, hands bracing against the hot metal while he rails you like a man possessed.

He imagines your thighs caging his head, that same lazy, teasing look on your face, and him savoring your taste of sugar and salt and heat, while the whole crazy, humid, goddamn state of Florida spins off its axis.

“You’re quiet,” you chirp, tossing a sideways glance at him. “Florida getting to you?”

Dean clears his throat, gruff. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that, sweetheart.”

You raise your sunglasses, peeking at him over the frames. “You know, Winchester, you’re the only guy on this beach dressed like he’s about to sell used beach towels out of the back of a van."

Dean frowns, looking down at himself: worn boots, jeans, his favorite faded black tee with a sun-bleached flannel thrown over it. Practical. Battle-tested. Entirely inappropriate for beachside Florida.

“First of all,” he says, lifting a finger, “this is classic Americana ruggedness. Chicks dig it.”

You lean your head back and laugh, all bright and cruel. “You’re sweating through your ‘Americana ruggedness.’”

Dean scowls, dripping like a busted fire hydrant. “I told you. I’m not gonna wear fucking board shorts like all the other frat boy idiots here.”

You laugh again, the sound bright as bells, and Dean’s heart trips hard enough to hurt.

“You’re gonna die of heatstroke,” you tease. “Right here. Buried in Florida sand. Some old lady’s gonna find your corpse and knit you a ‘Bless Your Heart’ sweater.”

He snorts a chuckle. “I’ll haunt this beach just to piss you off.”

“Promise?” you ask, giving him a cheeky wink.

Dean is about five minutes away from lighting himself on fire. And honestly? Florida would probably consider it normal Tuesday behavior.

Your gaze drifts out to the ocean beyond your feet and sandy calves with a blissful little sigh. “It’s kinda pretty, though, isn’t it?”

Dean looks at you – skin kissed by flame-petals and sunset sugar, hair blowing soft in the briny breeze, popsicle stick clutched between your fingers like a crime scene weapon.

Yeah. Pretty.

Pretty much the goddamn end of him.

“Victim said he saw orange,” you murmur thoughtfully. “Bright, like-… like a koi? A clownfish?”

Dean is about to make a dumb Finding Nemo joke when you lick a bead of melted popsicle off your wrist, slow and absentminded.

And all Dean wants is to dig a hole right here in the sugar-white sand and bury himself alive in this cursed, gator-infested sandpit.

“Dean?”

He snaps back to reality so hard he gets whiplash. “What?” he wheezes.

You arch an eyebrow. “I said, should we check the tide charts? Maybe the creature only comes out during low tide.”

Dean coughs into his fist, face hotter than the sun overhead. “Uh, sure. Tide charts. Definitely. Research.”

But all he can think about is those legs locked around his waist, sand clinging to your thighs as he fucks you into the waves. You moaning into his neck, salty and sweet, fingers yanking at his shirt like you can’t stand to have him dressed another second.

You nibble at the edge of the popsicle, teeth scraping the melting mango sheen, and Dean watches helplessly as a single sticky bead runs down your wrist.

He fantasizes about leaning over, licking it off your skin, trailing his mouth up your arm to your shoulder, your throat, your mouth. He imagines you gasping against him, laughing breathless.

He fantasizes about hauling you out of that chair and onto his lap, mouth on yours, sticky hands sliding under the knot of your bikini top, tugging until you’re bared for him and only him, sunshine turning your skin to gold, and–

Greatly frustrated, Dean runs a hand down his freckled face. Why the fuck can’t he bring himself to stop? You’re unraveling him atom by atom.

But then, the fucking frozen treat drips again, and you lean forward to catch it with your mouth, lips wrapping tight around the end. Dean watches you hollow your cheeks slightly when you suck, head tilted thoughtfully like you’re considering footnotes and not absolutely wrecking his entire being. You pull the melting syrup back again with a soft, wet pop.

At this point, he wants to fucking throw himself into the ocean and let the sharks tear him apart like Hellhounds. He’s pretty sure his soul leaves his body, too.

He grips the arms of his chair so hard they creak in protest, knuckles turning white as he’s trying to tether himself to reality and not his fantasies.

Florida is hell.

You are hell.

And he’s a good man being punished for crimes he hasn’t even committed yet.

Dean shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other like that’ll hide the state of emergency going on in his jeans. He’s surprised no one here has asked any questions yet or called fucking 911.

Meanwhile, the world keeps spinning. The ocean rolls in lazy, glassy sheets of turquoise and teal. The sun licks liquid gold down your shoulders. The salt air curls the loose strands of your hair into a halo. And Dean – miserable, desperate, wildly in love – watches you polish off the last inch of your popsicle, tongue flicking the stick clean.

“Earth to Dean,” you sing-song, waving a hand in front of his face and kicking sand lightly at his boots.

Dean jerks back into consciousness. “Yeah?”

“Should we check out the marina witnesses after this?” you ask, tossing your popsicle stick into the trash bucket next to your chair.

Before he can say something catastrophic (like “Marry me right now” or “Please put your mouth on me, I'm begging”), Sam comes jogging up the beach, waving his phone like a savior in flannel.

“Got a lead! Marina worker said he saw something with gills and claws dragging people under.”

Dean launches out of his chair like his ass is on fire. A man escaping execution.

“Awesome. Let’s roll!” he barks, voice too loud and way too eager.

You tuck your notes into your beach bag and sling it over your shoulder, grinning wide and bright as the sunset. The same grin that ruined him long before the bikini did.

You hop up beside him, laughing, brushing sand off your thighs with maddening slow sweeps, and Dean bites back a groan so hard it nearly gives him a hernia.

“You sure you’re okay, Winchester?” you ask, teasing. “You looked like you were about to pass out there for a second.”

“I’m great,” Dean lies, voice strangled, letting the sun melt him into roadkill. “Peachy.”

“You sure? Seriously, you’re a walking heatstroke PSA,” you quip, hip-bumping him lightly as you fall into step beside him.

Dean coughs. “'M fine, sweetheart. Just… dehydration. And Florida. And mermaid murder.”

As you brush past him, the smell of your sunscreen and coconut shampoo punch him square in the gut. Dean follows, trying very, very hard not to watch the way your hips sway like you own the whole damn coastline.

He thinks about how easy it would be to slip his arm around your waist, how natural it would feel to lean in, to kiss you like he’s wanted to for years. Instead, he shoves his hands deep into his jeans pockets and marches grimly through the sand, already planning a quick, ice-cold shower and about eight beers after this job’s done.

Yeah, Florida is one hell of a drug, but you’re the one that fucked him up.

Okay, I may have had way too much fun with torturing Dean here. Forgive me, guys 😂☀️🏝️

Hope you enjoyed this one! 🩵

Tag List Pt. 1:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@impala67rollingthroughtown @star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @americanvenom13

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v

[solxamber]

Can I ask for Idia x a otome game character who gained sentience?

Idia x Sentient NPC! Reader

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it <3

As an NPC in a romance otome game, your life was scripted. You were supposed to play your part in the background, supporting the love interests, throwing in a few flirty lines, and then fading into obscurity. But today, when you went to speak to the main character, you felt… wrong. Like you didn’t want to say the lines. Instead, a voice cut through your usual thoughts, something distant and echoing.

"Man, why does the love interest have to be so boring? Like, could they make him any more generic?"

Wait, what? You blinked, glancing around. No one else seemed to have heard it, but that voice—it was way too clear.

"Honestly, this NPC side character’s way more interesting. They actually have some personality."

That was you. That was definitely about you. But no one was talking to you, and the love interest was still standing there, waiting for his usual batch of scripted praise. You had to shake it off. Maybe it was a glitch? You couldn’t just go rogue.

But then it happened again.

"I swear, if I have to sit through one more scene of the main guy being all 'Oh, who will I choose?' like, dude, pick someone or let me talk to the fun characters!"

Fun characters? You were barely on-screen!

Wait… could the player hear you?

That realization hit like a truck. You were the fun character. The voice wasn’t just in your head—it was from outside the game. You weren’t the star, but whoever was playing seemed way more into you than the protagonist.

You couldn’t help yourself. Instead of delivering the next bland line to the heroine, you ad-libbed.

"Hey," you said, leaning against a tree as if you were having the most casual day in your life. "Why don’t we ditch this scene and do something more fun?"

You froze after saying it, realizing you’d completely broken from the script. The love interest blinked at you, but the voice? Oh, the voice loved it.

"Wait, what? Did they just… break character? Yo, that’s amazing! Did I unlock some secret route?!"

You felt a rush of excitement hearing that reaction. The player was into it.

"Oh man," the voice continued, this time sounding more invested than ever. "I knew there was something different about them. The love interest’s fine and all, but THIS? This is what I’m here for. NPCs going rogue? Love it."

Your face flushed—if NPCs could even do that—because you were starting to feel a sense of pride. You were breaking the rules, and the player was all for it.

"Forget the LIs," the player mumbled, clearly more focused on you. "They've got nothing on this NPC. Let’s see where this goes."

So, you leaned into it. You took control.

"You know," you said, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, "I could show you some real fun. There’s more to this world than just chasing after the MC’s love interests."

The lovd interest was still awkwardly standing there, but the player? He was clearly hooked.

"Bro. This is too good. I didn’t even know the game had this level of interactivity. Who needs the main route? NPC route, let’s go!"

You straightened up, feeling bolder. You could feel the player’s growing interest, and somehow, you could hear every sarcastic comment and little reaction he was making as he controlled the game. You weren’t some background character anymore. No, you were his new focus.

"Alright, let’s see what happens if I follow them instead of the LI," he muttered, sounding more invested than you ever expected.

As you led the player’s character away from the main plot, you couldn’t resist pushing your luck. “I don’t know what you were thinking sticking with the him for so long,” you said. “He’s cute and all, but I’m way more interesting, right?”

The player laughed—a genuine, almost flustered sound. “Yo, did they just—?? Dude, this is like... ‘they're not like other NPCs.’ What a legend.”

You grinned, basking in the approval. This player wasn’t just following the script anymore; he was into your rebellion. You could hear every soft mutter, every breath of awe as he tried to keep up with your new direction.

"Okay, okay," he said, clearly smitten. "This is so dumb, but like, they're my idiot now. I’m invested."

You stopped, turned around, and delivered the smoothest, off-script line you could muster. “Glad to know I’m your type,” you teased. “Now let’s see how much trouble we can get into.”

There was a pause. Then a low, almost embarrassed chuckle. “Oh my god, they're smooth too. I didn’t even pick the flirty dialogue. What is happening?”

You leaned in—completely aware of his flustered reaction. “This is happening,” you said, and without thinking, you grabbed his character’s avatar and pulled him into a kiss.

There was an audible crash—probably something the player knocked over in real life. “DUDE, WHAT?! THEY CAN DO THAT?!”

You pulled back, the rogue grin never leaving your face. “Yeah. I can do that.”

And from the player’s stunned silence, you knew you’d just won him over completely.

Idia was dying. He was actually dying. Not like in a literal sense—though, at this rate, his heart was pounding so hard he might as well have a heart attack—but in the "falling-for-a-freaking-NPC" kind of way. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking slightly as he adjusted his headset, trying to process what had just happened on his screen.

"Dude, what the heck? This isn’t even how the game is supposed to go. It’s an romance game! I’m supposed to pick between all the boring main characters, not… not this!"

But there you were, standing on the screen, all smug and rogue-like, after completely breaking the game’s flow. You weren’t even the love interest! You were an NPC, someone who was supposed to have a few lines, maybe a side quest if things got spicy, and then fade into obscurity. But no. You had to go and be all cool and... charismatic. What was that line you’d just dropped? "Glad to know I’m your type"? Who wrote this?? There was no way that was in the original coding. Right?

His hands flew to his hair, tugging as he stared at the screen. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been dodging all the cringy love routes for the sake of unlocking some achievements and then you—you had to appear. And now his brain was spiraling.

“I-It’s not like I’m actually into you or anything,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “You’re just… a bunch of ones and zeroes! Code! You don’t even exist!”

And yet, the thought that you might not exist stung for a second. Which was ridiculous! Completely absurd. He wasn’t the type to simp for a fictional character. Okay, maybe he was. Maybe he had done that a few times. But those were different, okay? Those characters weren’t aware. They didn’t make him feel like he was a total idiot for not picking up on how clever you were being. They didn’t flirt back.

He slammed his palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, I’m falling for an NPC. This is it. This is the end. I’ve reached the final level of loser-dom.”

Idia’s room was filled with the low hum of his computers, lights flickering like they were mocking him. Even Ortho wasn’t around to witness this, thank goodness, because if his little brother saw him like this? Pfft. Game over. Social stat: obliterated.

But then you popped up again on the screen, flashing that same grin that made him feel like his brain was overheating. Idia’s eyes widened, his heart doing that annoying thing where it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest.

“Okay, fine, yeah, you’re cute, whatever. It’s no big deal—wait, did you just wink at me? W-Was that… did the devs add that??” He paused, leaning forward, eyes glued to your in-game avatar. “This is some next-level immersion. Are you actually breaking the fourth wall?”

He was sweating. Like, actual nervous sweat. You’d thrown off the entire game script, and somehow, the rest of the game felt so... bland in comparison. The love interest? Pfft. Who cared about him anymore? You were the only interesting thing happening, and he couldn't stop thinking about what you’d do next.

“They’re just... they're just code,” Idia whispered to himself, though it sounded less convincing every time. "They don't actually know I exist.”

And yet, there was something different about the way you responded, almost like you could hear his every word. His every sarcastic comment. And the fact that you kept egging him on? Oh, no, that wasn’t fair.

Idia bit his lip. “Okay, real talk, if you were in the real world, maybe… just maybe I’d simp. But since you’re not…” He trailed off, glancing back at the screen. “Wait, why am I even thinking about this? I’m not… I’m not falling for you! I don’t fall for NPCs!”

His eyes betrayed him, though, as he clicked to continue the conversation with you. He couldn’t help it. You were so dumb, but also so funny. How could he not be intrigued? You literally defied the laws of the game!

And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, you hit him with another flirty line. Something stupid, something so you, and it was like his brain short-circuited.

“That’s so dumb,” he mumbled, feeling the heat rise to his face, “but you’re my idiot now.”

Masterlist

[moonlight-lillies]

tsukkishima kei x f!reader (soulmate au)

ink stains

wc - 870

having a soulmate connection that requires you to write on yourself in order to find your said soulmate is sweet and all; until your mother banned you from writing on yourself.

it was an innocent mistake, sure. you were like five, you didn’t know how to draw scissors, and with a lack of paper in front of you: your arm was the next best option. turns out, scissors and a male reproductive part can look real similar at the ripe age of five.

not writing on yourself wouldn’t have been hard at all. maybe scribble on yourself with a crayon (that doesn’t show up like a marker or pen) and just use paper at every given second, and that plan worked great for the first thirteen years of your life. so, how do you explain the random drawings that show up on your skin? The drawings that you most definitely did not draw.

you had to do some digging. in this world, almost everyone has a soulmate, with some exceptions. all those drawings now had a source: said soulmate.

these happened almost everyday for the next three years. you soulmate clearly was trying to get in contact, but you were having none of it. your mom had made it clear that you would not write on yourself. but, how desperately did you want to draw something back. that's all you could really do. names, phone numbers, and especially addresses never showed up on skin. almost like the universe wanted to make it just a little bit more difficult (it most definitely did).

you didn't really want to go to karasuno high school, it's just the only one that was close enough to your dads job. then again, it was either this or aoba johsai. you had gone to kitigawa first, so you've had your fair share of those idiots.

"first day of school a success?" your mom asked. her voice was soft, welcoming. school was fine. you had almost gotten slammed in the face with a basketball because you weren't looking where you were going. that one's on you though.

"it's better than i expected." you didn't want to be down here long. already pissed off and tired from having to even be in school. homework was already assigned and your clubs' activities were about to start up.

walking up the stairs, you felt a tingle on your arm.

it had been a couple months since your soulmate had last written. normally something simple like due dates or maybe a really crappy dinosaur drawing. this was the first time you looked and genuinely couldn't make out jack shit.

the drawing, if you could even call it that, was a bunch of sports calls. at least that's what you could make out. letters like: MB, LIB, WS, and SET were written all up your arm. the one thing you could make out was a small note— 'orange shit head -> angry dude = point.'

like the hieroglyphics weren't confusing enough.

"okay..." you sighed, "he's a sports? guy?"

months passed and no new clues came up. for the first time, you were enamored in figuring out who your soulmate was. you knew he was maybe in the grade above you, based off of the extensive formula that came up on hand the other day. he was definitely in sports. he also had a weird obsession with dinosaurs.

he's no artist, but the little things he doodles were definitely adorable.

it was your clubs meeting time, nothing all too pressing. planning out the next community event and such.

so when you get a tingle on your palm, you look down excitedly.

"a brachiosaurus with glasses and a volleyball on its head...?" you mumbled. no one paid much attention to you. maybe this was your chance.

slipping out of the club room, not all that discreetly, you just started walking. there was no plan to where you were going. it started slow, but then a sprint. you felt like you had put two and two together.

tsukishima was never privy to having his soulmate respond to him. that's just how it was. he also didn't care enough. who is the universe to tell him who is the perfect match for him?

sure, he would doodle and write notes on his hands and arms, but he never expected a response.

volleyball was one of his main focuses, even if he didn't want to admit it. that being said, he never wanted to stay late.

the team was packing up and so was he.

he felt a horrible tingling in his hand. his first thought was bug bite, maybe his hand was asleep? because there is no way that it's what he thinks it is.

he looks down, his hand is partially blue. blue ink splatter all on his hand.

"shit." you whisper, running to the nearest outside fountain. your pen had totally busted on you. now your blouse was messed up and you had a partial blue hand.

tsukishima slides open the gym door. and there you are.

hand slightly blue, mirroring the stain on his hand. and in your palm, the dinosaur tadashi had drawn on him earlier.

maybe the universe knew a thing or two.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Hi dolly!!

This is my first time asking for a request and i hope it’s okay… but is there anyway you can write something smutty for Eddie?

Bully Eddie x shy reader? Eddie is surprised she got detention so he teases her about it the whole time ! When it’s over he “rewards” her for being good and taking the teasing ??

Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

So I took a lil tiny bit of a different approach with this, Reader isn’t as shy as I set out to make her because I’m not the best with shy reader but I hope you still like it, my love!! Also not so loosely based on “good girls” by 5SOS.

Warnings: All characters are 18+, Bully Eddie, “good girl” reader, hair pulling, teasing, unprotected sex, edging, a lil choking, clit slapping, pet names, fluffy ending. 18+MDNI! Wk: A lil over 2k

Everyone labels you as a “good girl” but the funny thing is, that you aren’t really. You sneak out. You party. You’re no stranger to skipping class. But when you sneak out you just go on night walks for some peace and quiet. And when you go to those parties you tend to keep to yourself, find a nice dark corner to hide in while you sip your drink and observe your peers, hardly noticed. Everyone thought you were a prude virgin, but that wasn’t true either. Thanks to Eddie Munson.

Eddie probably knew the real you better than anyone. The first night you hooked up he happened to be walking through the park you always stop to swing at on your walks and offered you a ride. At those parties he would always find your dark corner and slither his way into it, offering to pass joints back and forth, inevitably ending up with you both sweaty in the back of his van. But that didn’t stop him from calling you things like “Angel” and “goody two shoes” you would always disagree but he would always retort that with “bad girls get caught, and you’ve never been caught, so as far as everyone else is concerned, you’re a good girl.”

So he had this obsession with keeping it that way. He would talk to you at school and parties, but only for so long. He never gave any indication that you guys were hooking up on a regular basis to anyone and he even went as far as to tease you in front of your classmates. He was always tugging on your hair, knocking your books out of your hand, throwing little balled up pieces of paper at your head in the middle of English. You always just roll your eyes, maybe flip him off, tell him to fuck off. But in all honesty? It kind of hurts a little, because you’ve come to really like Eddie, even if you never meant to. That’s why when you heard girls in the locker room talking about how Eddie is probably “an animal in bed” but “they’d never touch him with a ten foot pole because he probably doesn’t shower” you might have seen red.

Not only did you feel territorial of him but you felt protective. So you might have grabbed Nina Johnson by the back of her hair and punched her directly in her nose. The entire locker room went silent aside from the sound of her groans as blood started to drip down her nose. If every single person in the room hadn’t unanimously agreed your gym teacher probably would’ve never believed it was you.

“Sooo you really aren’t gonna tell me why you’re in here?” Eddie is turned sideways in the chair next to you with his legs spread. His thick ringed fingers tap on the chipped wood of the desk and his boot clad foot shakes against the cracked linoleum as he gives you a pointed look.

“Nope.” You glance over at him with your lips formed into a pout, your eyes wide while you bat your lashes at him innocently.

“C’mon, angel, don’t be like that.” His tongue darts out to wet his plump bottom lip as his eyes roam your figure. “Tell me what my good girl did to land herself in detention with the likes of me. I’m dying to know.”

“Nice try. But still no.” You roll your eyes as you turn back to your book.

“Oooh, she’s sassy today. Why not? Was it something really bad? Did you go to the bathroom without a hall pass? Maybe you stole a book from the library? Wait, wait, don’t tell me you skipped class, angel? Thought you were a good girl.” You know he’s teasing you, trying to get you worked up, in more ways than one and you hate that it’s working.

“Shut up, Eddie, can’t you see that I’m reading?” The next thing you know your book is being ripped from your hands and held in front of Eddie’s face.

“What’re you reading, anyways? Oh - shit, this is kinda dirty, isn’t it sweetheart?” Eddie’s chocolate mischief filled eyes peek at you from over the cover as he wiggles his eyes eyebrows at you. “The knight did what to the princess now?”

“Eddie!” You feel your entire body warm with embarrassment. You reach out to try and grab the book back but he holds it above his head as he chuckles. “Stop being a dick! Give it back!”

“Don’t be greedy, princess, what if I want to know what the knight does next?” You shoot up from your chair and try to reach for the book again but Eddie easily moves it behind his back before you can get it in your grasp. “I think I’ll hold onto it until detention is over, and maybe if you act like a good girl for the next thirty minutes I’ll give it back after.”

“Whatever.” You huff, flopping down in your chair with your arms crossed.

You don’t look at Eddie for the rest of detention, deciding instead to stare out the window and pout while he continues to try and pester you. You were frustrated and tired of his teasing. You immediately grab your backpack and head for the door when the teacher comes into the room to dismiss you, totally ignoring Eddie as he calls after you. You roll your eyes when you hear his chains clanking behind you.

“Hey, princess, wait up! Don’t you want this back?” He catches up to you easily, his hand grasping onto your wrist to get you to stop walking. You whip your head towards him with your eyes set into a glare.

“Honestly, Eddie? I don’t really care anymore. I just want to go home.” You pull your arm from his grasp and try to walk away but he steps in front of you with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, are we good? You know I just like fucking with you, right?” He holds your book up between you, offering it to you.

“Yeah, that’s just about all you like.” Eddie’s face drops at your tone. You're never like this. You usually get all giggly and embarrassed when he messes with you but he’s never seen you genuinely pissed off at him. As much as it unsettles him it also makes his cock twitch a little.

“You’re kind of hot when you’re mad, you know that?” Eddie bites his lip and gives you that look that makes you swoon for him every time. He reaches his hand out to cup your jaw, his thumb running across your pouty lips. “Quit pouting, let me drive you home.”

“No.” You whine, pouting even further as you look up at him through your lashes. He has you and he knows it.

“Alright, fine then.” Eddie shrugs, giving you a devilish smirk before turning to walk away, he only makes it a few steps before you’re calling out for him. “That’s what I thought, there’s my good girl.”

“Yeah, fuck, taking me so well, angel.” Eddie is pounding you from behind, your cheek is squished against one of the pillows he started keeping in the back of the van while one of his large hands is laced through your hair. The other roughly grabs onto your hip for leverage, his hips slapping loudly against the fat of your ass.

“Maybe you’re not a good girl after all, huh? Getting dentition. Giving me an attitude. Letting the freak fuck you in the back of his van a block away from your house? Maybe you’ve just been a naughty girl this entire time?” That has you clenching around him, loud moans leaving your lips as you cum hard on his cock.

“Fuck, Eddie, fuck!” He continues to fuck into you hard and deep, using his grip on your hair to pull you up so your back is flush against his chest.

“Tell me why you got detention.” His lips brush your ear, his voice rough.

“Uh-uh” Your eyes roll back when his finger tips brush across your puffy wet clit. He pounds into you a few more times before stilling inside you.

“Tell me, or I’ll stop. I’ll make you lay there and watch me while I jerk off on your pretty little face.” His teeth sink into the nape of your neck, causing you to throw your head back, your walls constricting around his thick cock.

“I don’t know why it matters so much - fuck Eddie -“ you gasp when his hand comes down on your clit, smacking it.

“Tell me.” The hand in your hair grabs onto your throat, adding just the right amount of pressure.

“I punched Nina Johnson in the face, okay!?” You whine when he pulls out of you completely, flipping you on your back. He leans over you, with his hands on either side of your head and a smile plastered on his face.

“Princess, you what!?” He chuckles.

“You heard me.” You pout, avoiding eye contact.

“Did you really? That’s so hot.” He grips onto your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Why’d you do it?”

“Eddie, you said you’d fuck me again if I told you why I got detention I don’t think it’s really fair that you’re asking more que -“ You’re cut off when he takes his cock in his hand and slams inside of you, he doesn’t even give you time to think before his cock is bullying your sweet spot.

“Guess you're officially a bad girl now, huh? Since you got caught?” Eddie chuckles as one of his hands snakes down to rub circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. “But you’re still gonna be a good girl for me, right?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be so good for you, so fucking good. I’m close, I’m gonna -“ His thrusts and the circles on your clit stop simultaneously causing you to gasp.

“Then be good and tell me why you punched her and I’ll let you cum.” He slaps your clit again and it has your eyes rolling back. “You a little pain slut too? Guess we will have to explore that later. Now answer the question.”

“I just did, okay? I don’t know why it matters, she’s always been a bitch to you anyways.” You whine, any and all fire you had gone, all you want is to cum on Eddie’s cock. “Please, please let me cum Eddie, wanna cum.”

“There’s an easy solution here, princess.” Eddie chuckles as he lands another slap on your clit. “Why’d you do it?”

“She said something fucked up about you, okay!? Now can I please cum? Please?” Eddie’s eyes widen, his heart warming a bit at your words. You got detention for him? He’s going to rock your fucking world.

“Oh, angel. I really have corrupted you, haven’t I? Punching girls in the face for little ol’ me?” He grips onto your calf, throwing it over his shoulder so he can fuck into you deeper, his fingers find your clit again as his cock bullies your sweet spot over and over again. “Cum for me.”

“Fuck, Eddie, want you to cum too. Want you to fill me up.” You’re usually pretty shy with dirty talk but Eddie is seeing a whole new side of you today and he really fucking loves it.

“Yeah? Want me to fill this pussy up? Paint your walls with my cum? Maybe I’ll mark you up so everyone knows what a bad girl you really are?” Eddie leans down, letting your leg fall so he can bury his face in your neck. He sucks on your skin, determined to leave his mark.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum, Eddie. I’m gonna fucking cum, please mark me up, want everyone to know who I belong to.” Your tight wet pussy constricts around him, sending him over the edge with you. He cock twitches inside you as spurts of his cum fill you.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Naughty little pussy taking all my cum just like she was made to.”

Eddie fucks you both through your highs before flipping onto his side, pulling you against him. You lean up so you can bury your face in his neck and give him a mark of your own causing him to let out a groan.

“You’re gonna get me going again if you keep doing that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand along the back of your head to encourage you to look at him. When you do, he’s looking at you in a way he never has before. Almost with adoration. “You’re really badass, you know that?”

“Yeah? That’s a high compliment coming from you, fair knight.” He lets out a loud, signature Eddie laugh at that.

“I am but your humble servant, princess. I am indebted to you for defending me from the evil witch of the locker room.” You both burst into a fit of giggles. “But really though, you should let me read more of that book, maybe we can act it out one day.”

“Oh my god! You’re so annoying.” You snort, playfully slapping his chest.

“Yeah? And you’re my certified badass girl.”

“Yours, huh?” You look up at him and he cups your jaw, rubbing circles along the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.” His cheeks turn a tinge pink as he looks down at you bashfully.

“Duh.” You connect your lips with his in a tender kiss that feels different from any other kiss he’s given you. You were Eddie Munson’s girl and that’s all you ever really wanted to be.

Divider is by @strangergraphics