#so that i can save others time from reading trash

[dyns33]

The Big Nice Punisher

I never gave love to Frank and Frank only in a story so I decided to change that

Y/N should have gotten used to it, now that she was friends with Matt, Foggy and Karen.

It had happened several times that the devil of Hell's Kitchen had knocked on her window to ask for a medical kit since she knew his secret, even if the fool preferred to die in a trash rather than ask his friends for help.

It had taken everyone's intervention to force him to admit that he had a problem, and that he could count on them if he wasn't being chased by an army of ninjas.

More than stubborn, his priority was above all to ensure that he did not bring any danger into their home.

Karen wasn't Matt.

She didn't want her friends to be in danger either, but her moral compass was visibly broader, and allowed her to do more things.

Like coming to Y/N with the Punisher losing a lot of blood, asking if she could hide him for a few days and make sure he was still breathing.

Y/N had followed Frank Castle's trial on television, like the whole city. She had heard about all the people he had killed, but also the people he had saved. She had heard what happened to his wife and children. And above all, she had read in all the newspapers that he was dead.

“Can you explain to me or are you going to tell me it’s better if I know as little as possible ?” she asked as she helped Karen place him on her couch.

"Actually, I don't know. I found him like this when I came home from work. Your apartment was closer, excuse me. He doesn't want a hospital, for obvious reasons, and I was afraid he wouldn't manage to get to my place."

"Okay. Just promise me he won't jump on me when he wakes up."

“Frank is very nice, don’t worry.”

'Nice' probably wouldn't have been the first word Y/N, or anyone, would have used when talking about the Punisher, but Karen was pretty good at judging people, and that was out of the question to leave him to die anyway.

Even if she managed to see the good in him, it still seemed a bit exaggerated and even very optimistic that Karen would decide to leave Frank Castle unconscious in a stranger's house. She took the time to write a little note, telling Y/N that she could show him if he didn't trust her, but repeating that everything would be fine.

If he didn't have a reason to hurt her, he wouldn't hurt her. Really very reassuring.

Sure enough, the Punisher woke up in a panic as Y/N was making dinner, looking around with wary eyes and grimacing when he saw her. His first instinct was not to attack her but to try to flee, but his injury did not allow him to reach the door, his path ending in the middle of the living room.

“Karen warned me this would happen.” Y/N sighed, hesitating to put down her knife.

"Who are you ? Where am I ? Where is Karen ?"

“In order, I'm Y/N, you're at my house, and Karen had a job emergency so I'm babysitting for her.”

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.” he groaned, holding his leg.

"Look, you don't want to be here, I'm not really happy about it either, but if you let me help you, you can leave quickly."

"I'm leaving now."

"Oh, no way ! I promised Karen I wouldn't let you die and I feel like you're just as stupid as Matt, so you're going to rest your ass on the couch, you're going to eat, then I'll see if you haven't reopened your wound !'

"… Yes Ma'am."

The terrible Punisher then began to look like a little lost dog, speaking little and accepting the plate that Y/N offered him, thanking her with a nod, his big black eyes following her as soon as she moved in the room.

He insisted that he could take care of his leg, but just one look made him shut up again, letting Y/N do what she wanted, since he obviously had no choice.

"I'm not a doctor, but between your broken ribs, the bullet that was in your leg, and the other marks on your body, I will say that it would be best for you to rest for a few days before you start punishing people again."

“No time to wait.”

"That wasn't a suggestion, doctor's orders."

“You just said you’re not a doctor.” he said with a smirk.

“I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

In the end, his leg was causing him too much pain and Karen had forbidden him to move over the phone, it was decided that Frank Castle would stay with Y/N ​​for at least a week. He seemed to be the most annoyed by the situation.

Both women were right about him : he was nice, and he was like Matt. He didn't like asking for help, and he was afraid of putting innocent people in danger by his mere presence.

Yes, he had tried to find Karen when he was injured, but Karen knew how to defend herself, and he would have found a way to convince her to let him go. He didn’t know Y/N. He didn't like the idea of ​​intruding into her home, into her life, into her world, even if Red wasn't far away.

"I also know how to defend myself if necessary, Mr. Castle."

"Of course Miss. And it's Frank."

“I can do the dishes by myself too, Frank.”

“I have no doubt about that, but I’m squatting on your couch, it’s the least I can do.”

A week might not seem like much, but aside from her colleagues and the trio, Y/N didn't see many people. This daily proximity to Frank made the atmosphere strange.

He always spoke little, almost never about himself, hiding his wounds like a proud animal, but being interested in her, not missing an opportunity to help her around the apartment as a sign of gratitude, and listening to her talk about her days with patience and sympathy.

It was almost difficult when his condition allowed him to leave. They had gotten used to each other and the separation gave them as much pleasure as their meeting.

Still looking like a puppy who didn't know how to behave, Frank gave her his number, just in case, taking hers if he needed to check on her. He wouldn't call her for a favor, it wasn't like him.

Obviously, his style was to stop giving any news at all and to completely disappear from people's lives.

Y/N could try to understand. He was dead in the eyes of society, he had a complicated past, his main occupation was murdering criminals… But all the same, a little message from time to time wasn't complicated.

The worst part was that he was in contact with Karen. Her friend seemed surprised that he hadn't contacted her. According to her, Frank loved her very much.

"He's shy, that stupid man. I'll tell him to call you."

"No, that's not necessary. I'm glad to know he's okay."

"Don't be ridiculous, you want to talk. He also asked me about you, I should have known he would do that."

Y/N probably should have too, but because in hindsight she didn't see why someone like Frank Castle would want to keep in touch with her. She had been useful, nothing more. Next to Karen, beautiful, intelligent Karen who he had known for a long time, Y/N didn't stand a chance.

There was also his family, for whom he had sacrificed everything. If he was only "friends" with Karen, there had to be a reason and that was because he refused to betray his dead wife.

This enchanted parenthesis of a week had been nothing other than a parenthesis.

It was stupid to be so sad for a man she had only seen for a week. And yet, Y/N was sad. So sad that she didn't pay attention to the time while having a drink at Josie's.

No doubt she forgot that despite the presence of Daredevil, Hell's Kitchen remained a dangerous place. Matt couldn't be everywhere.

So it wouldn't have been a surprise when she was followed by two guys, who cornered her in an alley and threatened her with a knife so that she would give them her bag. Then one of them looked at her with a funny look and licked his lips, and she tried to run away.

Before they could touch her, the first one had his head smashed against the wall. The other screamed, trying to defend himself with his knife, but the weapon ended up in his leg, and he was knocked out with a punch.

Slowly so as not to frighten her further, Frank helped her up, checking her for injuries and returning her things.

"Are you alright ?"

"Yes. I was careless."

“Not your fault, sweetheart.”

"I guess we're even now." she tried to joke, while sobbing. Y/N hoped he would think it was because of the shock, and not because she thought she wouldn't see him again afterwards.

This didn't make him laugh. He looked at her with his sad, worried eyes, shyly rubbing her shoulder as he listened to her breathing, waiting for her to calm down.

Then still without a word, he took out his coat to put it on her shoulders before walking her home.

There, he only left her when she was sitting on the sofa, to go get her a glass of water, letting go of it when he was sure she was holding it well, and remaining kneeling on the floor right next to her.

"… Karen said you were angry. Because I didn't call." he whispered, his eyes stopping from staring at her for a second.

"Karen is talking nonsense. I'm a big girl, and you owed me nothing. Nothing at all. I was happy to help you, and stupid to think that… Thanks for saving me. You don't have to stay."

Silence returned, but Frank didn't move. He stayed until she finished her glass, then until she was done shaking and crying, his hand never leaving hers.

But he still didn't move. And in that moment, Y/N wondered if he too had been disappointed when their week together was over.

Maybe Karen was right, he was shy, and he didn't want to put her in danger by staying in contact with her. As stubborn and insufferable as Matthew. And also nice. Why else would he have been there to protect her ?

"It's not a good idea." he suddenly muttered, closing his eyes.

"What ?"

Frank sighed, seeing that she might cry again. He could have left right away, because he didn't think his presence was a good idea, and probably he was right. No doubt it was ridiculous to love the Punisher.

But continuing to mutter, he stood up slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. Now he held both hers hands, looking desperate, opening pleading eyes.

He couldn't stay, but that didn't mean he didn't want to more than anything in the world.

"It's not a good idea." he repeated, however, as if to force himself to move, to remember his course of action, and he was quickly on his feet, ready to leave.

“Frank…”

"No."

“Frank…”

The door was closed as quickly as it had been opened and in an instant Frank was there again, kissing her like a thirsty man who had just found an oasis in the middle of the desert.

But the moment was furtive, almost a mirage, because the soldier quickly shook his head, swearing and saying again that it really wasn't a good idea, before fleeing the apartment.

Y/N could have been mad at him for that. But she was too busy touching hers lips, thinking that if he had kissed her against his principles, maybe Frank Castle loved her enough to come back.

This idea stayed with her, after she received a message just before going to sleep. Simple message, which made her smile.

"I was happy too. You're not stupid. Good night."

Yes, they would probably see each other again. In secret, at times when she wouldn't expect to find him in her apartment. But she was a bit used to Matt, Foggy and Karen. This wouldn't be a problem at all.

[sincerelyneo]

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing. 

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said." 

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it. 

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style. 

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight. 

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night. 

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core. 

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him. 

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant. 

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room. 

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts. 

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago. 

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.” 

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks. 

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it. 

Well, you won't be on your  knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard. 

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re  faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go. 

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense. 

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker. 

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him. 

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!” 

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.” 

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake. 

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it. 

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours. 

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it? 

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way." 

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you. 

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him. 

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say." 

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest. 

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't." 

But you do it. 

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder. 

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely. 

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you. 

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. 

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house. 

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground. 

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!” 

You groan, I'm going to my room." 

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll  just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know. 

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. 

“What are you doing?” You spit. 

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan. 

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. 

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.” 

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy. 

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him. 

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you. 

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh. 

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel. 

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked. 

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear. 

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep. 

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck. 

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core. 

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that. 

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him. 

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you. 

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach. 

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?" 

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question." 

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head. 

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed. 

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face. 

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway. 

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base. 

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes. 

Fuck no. Absolutely not. 

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper. 

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?" 

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs. 

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling. 

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs. 

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him. 

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp. 

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it. 

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch. 

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach. 

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling. 

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core. 

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge. 

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again. 

"Yes, and what else?" He growls. 

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues. 

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough. 

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down. 

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning. 

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before. 

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.” 

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed. 

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would." 

He’s thought about this? You know you have. 

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down. 

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions. 

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion. 

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off." 

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy. 

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets. 

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it. 

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t  move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely. 

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.” 

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick. 

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt. 

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards. 

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking  another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock." 

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat. 

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.  

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop. 

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. 

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter. 

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?" 

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod. 

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip. 

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat. 

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl." 

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more. 

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk. 

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself. 

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks. 

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer? 

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him. 

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him. 

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

 You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore. 

"You want it." He says point blankly. 

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget. 

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites. 

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them. 

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity. 

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere. 

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on. 

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still. 

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats. 

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes. 

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?” 

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you. 

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined." 

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring. 

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now. 

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him. 

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe. 

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like  Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth. 

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it. 

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply. 

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face. 

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?" 

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased. 

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him. 

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again. 

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now. 

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about. 

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling. 

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door. 

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?" 

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door. 

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass. 

"One second," you shout,  jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it. 

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you. 

"I was hot." You shrug. 

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.” 

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony. 

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you. 

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.” 

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself. 

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you. 

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh. 

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh. 

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling. 

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

[sixosix]

synopsis in which satoru really needed to start reading the gc more often. solves a lot.

tags slight making out scene… satoru is an asshole but what’s new, satoru is also hopelessly infatuated, all the readers i write are emotionally constipated sorry, getting together(?) fluff bit angsty tho

a/n this is a little stupid and unrealistic but bear with me because this is my first time writing in a looong time to get back in the groove of writing ^__^

Shoko wrinkled her nose as Satoru made the show of tossing a crumpled-up vending machine can into the bin on the other side of the street. It landed perfectly in the middle because why wouldn’t it? Emboldened by the impressed glances of passersby, he reached for Suguru’s pocket, where there was a balled-up paper in his bontan pants. Suguru winced when it was your head instead, where you had started crossing.

Your glare cut a thrill down Satoru’s spine. You huffed and bent down to pick up the trash, your knuckles white, like you were imagining it was Satoru’s head instead. Satoru was just appreciating how gracefully you’d bowed, the curve of your back captivating him for a moment until Suguru elbowed him.

“Stop littering,” Suguru said sternly, but his eyes spelled out that it was not about the littering.

Satoru shrugged. “I wouldn’t have missed if it weren’t for Y/N.” 

Satoru called out after you as you dropped the paper ball into the bin directly. “Oi!” You ignored him and continued walking, a considerable distance lengthening between you and the three. “Ha, you embarrassed?”

“Anyone would be if they were seen with you,” you spat out almost reflexively, then blinked at your own words. Satoru almost swore you wanted to apologize, but you composed yourself by turning your back on him altogether.

Satoru grinned. “It’s okay,” he said. “Shoko and Suguru don’t need to know I had to save your ass from a low-grade curse.”

You didn’t dignify his taunt with a response, but your shoulders tensed for a moment.

“So moody. How does your boyfriend put up with this?” Satoru snickered as he eyed the back of your head. He relished in the way a vein pops on your temple, breathed in the way you looked over your shoulder just to say—

“Shut up, Satoru. I mean it.”

He wasn’t unfamiliar with envious or hateful gazes; it came with his birth, really. Awe and fear and there are impossibles, but not for Gojo Satoru said with contempt—he didn’t care. Yours were different. He took pride in affecting people in ways where they could never ignore him, but the way you looked at him felt thrilling. He wondered if your boyfriend saw how your eyes would set ablaze for Satoru.

But he didn’t actually care, he would say. He never cared for a lot of things. It showed, at times, others would say.

“Whoa, did someone get their heart broken today?” Satoru whistled, his tone lilting upwards in what seemed to be a way to lighten the mood. No moods were lightened.

Your head whipped around to give him a look that had him frozen on the spot. His eyes widened behind his shades. He felt like that paper ball at the moment, about to be squashed flat against your palm. That look felt familiar, but not in the way that he knew he was familiar with because of you. It was familiar because of everyone else.

Suguru shot him a look that said he would’ve shoved him had it not been for his Infinity on. “Satoru.”

You walked on ahead, brushing past them with hiked-up shoulders. You looked like you were about to break at the slightest touch—it looked wrong. You had always looked so strong in Satoru’s eyes. Not stronger than him, of course, but… seeing your lip tremble like that made him itch the wrong way.

Satoru glanced between Suguru and Shoko, lost. “Am I missing something?”

Suguru said, “You didn’t hear?”

“Oh, so you know, but I don’t? What is this? Leave-out-Satoru club? You have a group chat without me?” Satoru did not mean for that to come out that bitter.

Shoko exhaled, smoke faintly billowing from her lips. She regarded Satoru with a look. “Maybe if you actually read our group chat with you, you wouldn’t be so ignorant.”

And so Satoru scrolled through his phone, wounded. Suguru and Shoko whispered among themselves as his eyebrows arched up so high that he looked elated.

“That’s it?” Satoru scoffed. “Trouble in paradise? Y/N almost got hurt by a curse because of some man?”

“Idiot,” Suguru sighed. “You’re also a man.”

Satoru knew what was going on in Shoko’s head with her expression. She was calling him trash. “They’ve been together for years. Before Y/N even met you.”

Satoru bristled. “So?”

“So don’t think of this as some chance,” Suguru said. Since when was he some love expert? “And stop terrorizing. No one brokenhearted would want to see your stupid face.”

He gaped. “So rude!”

And then he backtracked. “And I wasn’t thinking of this as a chance.” He was. “I don’t even like Y/N like that!” He does terribly. “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear from that asshole non-sorcerer again. Have you heard the way he says baby? Even through the phone, it gives me the creeps.”

Suguru hummed thoughtfully. “He was an asshole.”

Shoko laughed. “That asshole got to date Y/N before you, though.”

Satoru decided to spare Shoko, feeling too delighted to let anyone ruin it.

“Did you read all the messages?” Suguru asked.

“Nah.” Satoru stared at the back of your head. “I got the gist of it seeing Suguru’s reply, ‘he was an asshole anyway.’” He flashed his teeth and quickened his pace. “Come on, before Y/N gets flung around by curses again.”

Suguru and Shoko shared a look that he missed completely.

You eyed the plastic bag Satoru was holding out distrustfully.

It was too dark already, but that was no problem for Gojo Satoru. He came here—your room, your door—with a mission in mind. That mission involved ice cream because he saw in movies that people liked to eat ice cream and cry after breakups. You weren’t crying, which relieved him, though he didn’t know why. He wanted to convince himself it was because he didn’t want to deal with tears, but he couldn’t lie to himself well when it came to you.

“Nice try,” you said, pushing it back to his chest. You startled at the cold.

“What— It’s not poison!” Satoru said. He flicked it open and showed you his gift, one you should appreciate for his efforts and thoughtfulness.

“Ice cream?” you said suspiciously. Then it dawned on you. Your lips turned up in a disbelieving smile. He'd take it much better than the look you gave him that day, even when dregs of weariness dulled your eyes. “Were you worried?”

You looked awful, which was probably the norm for someone going through a breakup from a long relationship. Satoru didn’t like your sad face at all. It pissed him off, like some puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Still, to Satoru, he supposed anything was better than not getting to see your face at all.

“Yeah,” he found himself saying before he could think about it.

Your face fell. “Satoru.”

“Just take it, or else I’ll eat it in front of you.”

Your hand gripped the door tighter.

Satoru cleared his throat. “Okay, or you can just shut the door on me and go back to sleep.” And then, silently: “You can just take it, and I’ll leave.”

You stared at him as if expecting him to take it back.

Satoru felt his face warm. “Are you gonna take it or not?”

“It creeps me out when you act nice.”

He glared. “I’m always nice, but I’m not creepy about it.”

Your shoulders relaxed. You took the bag from him with a smile that felt like a shared secret. “Do you wanna come in?”

His first thought was, holy shit, but what came out was, “Sure, I don’t care.”

He had never been in your room before. Shoko was, a lot of times, most of the time. Suguru managed to, here and there, when you needed some help with heavy lifting. You kicked Satoru every time he used to even think about it. Your room was more ordinary than he expected. No posters, flashy souvenirs, or even clothes strewn over your bed. It looked lonely.

There was a box in the corner beside your closet that looked entirely out of place. Satoru must have been staring at it for a moment too long as you said, “Those are my ex’s clothes. I stole many of it, but I don’t want to wear them anymore.”

Satoru’s curious gaze turned into distaste. “Want me to get rid of it?”

“What?” You laughed. “I’ll just give it back.”

Satoru bounded over to the box and crouched, peeling the cover open. “Why not? There’s a dumpster nearby.”

“Well, they were nice. Not my ex, I mean the clothes. Felt expensive—I’d rather he take it back.” Always the goody two shoes.

“Hmmm…” Satoru lifted his head to stare at you. “Did you like wearing them? You can borrow mine. Much better than these cheap knockoffs.”

Your eyes flashed with interest, and Satoru knew he had said the right words. His clothes were no joke.

You blinked at him, a deer in headlights holding a tub of ice cream. “Are— Are you sure? It’s not like I actually need them—”

Satoru wanted nothing more than to see you drowning in his clothes. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I don’t care.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered it to you. He felt a gust of cold, which should’ve been wrong to him, but he didn’t pay it any mind when you took it from him and stared at it. Your gaze shifted hesitantly between him and the red fabric. Your bottom lip started trembling before you bit it between your teeth, something Satoru wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t staring. You whirled around and shoved the tub of ice cream in your mini fridge. What a shame. He was really planning for you to share it with him.

Satoru stood up, kicking at the box. He asked, “What were you doing before I left? Boring stuff? Were you watching sad movies without ice cream? It’s a good thing I came over.”

“You didn’t have to, I’m fine,” you said. You slipped into his jacket, the sight arresting him for a moment.

Satoru frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Maybe you were feeling tired? You must have been—emotions tend to wear out a person faster than any physical means. “Hey, lie down on the bed. You look like you’re about to crash.”

“I’m not,” you muttered but followed anyway because you must have felt it, too. “I’m not.”

You winced as your head collided with your pillow. It was unusual for you to succumb to rest while Satoru lingered in the same space.

“Sorry,” Satoru choked out, suddenly feeling guilty by the strong urge to embrace you. He was already crossing far too many lines today. He didn’t want to taint your memory of heartbreak from your ex with him.

You turned to face him, your hair splayed all over the pillow. “What?”

“For yesterday. I didn’t know. This, I mean.”

“You read the messages?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“That’s it? You’re not—” You yawned, blinking. Satoru was performing the highest level of restraint at the moment. “I mean, you’re not, like…”

The air was charged with something dangerous. Satoru looked away, thinking. He wanted to ask, did you expect me to care that much? But he knew the answer to that—he does.

“Satoru,” you said lowly. He shivered at the quiet of the night and how he can almost feel your voice. “You shouldn’t be so nice to someone heartbroken. Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

Satoru sat on the edge of your bed, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

You looked up at him. Satoru felt want in his belly. It was dangerous, he realized, for him to be alone with you like this. It was wrong—but he never went doing everything right anyway, if it meant he could watch as your eyes flutter, as you longed for something he could never have from you once the wounds on you have healed.

“Doesn’t it?” you said. “You’re confusing me, too.”

Satoru realized his Infinity had been off already, though he didn’t know when. Was it when he sat on the bed to feel the softness of your sheets? Or was it already back then, the moment you opened the door, he was already longing for you to touch him?

“You’re so cruel, Satoru,” you murmured. “I hate you.”

Weakly, Satoru said, “I know. Get some sleep. I’ll leave soon.”

“Don’t leave.”

Satoru screwed his eyes shut, frustrated.

“Satoru.” He could listen to you say his name forever. You sighed his name in a way that felt like what aches in his heart whenever you even look at him.  “You didn’t read the messages, did you?”

“Did I miss something?”

“If you want to kiss me so bad, read it.”

His eyes shot open wide, a bit terrified. “What?” he said, dumbstruck. “Y/N— What?”

Clumsily, with no grace whatsoever, he fumbled with his phone, your words racing in his head. If you want to kiss me, read it. He bluescreened. If you want to kiss me—

you satoru doesnt read the messages here, right?

you i hate him if i never met him maybe i wouldnt have figured that i was not content with the love i had

you how do i even deal with this? i got dumped by my bf and he tells me if i love satoru so much why not just date him instead

you i love him can someone please comfort me

shoko oh no

shoko condolences for liking the most insufferable man on planet earth

suguru im sorry he’s an asshole you deserve better y/n

shoko the trashiest asshole are you sure about this?

you more than anything, unfortunately

Wait.

The asshole they were referring to was Satoru?

Wait.

Satoru jolts up from where he had been hunched over his phone, gaping at you. “Y/N,” he whispered reverently. “Y/N!”

You placed a hand on his chest as he moved towards you, preventing him from crashing into your space. He faltered. “Wait,” you laughed softly, languidly, beautifully, “not now. I’m sleepy.”

“No, fuck that,” he said, helpless. “Y/N!”

“It’s your fault for not reading our group chat.”

‘Kay, well. Satoru’s eyes narrowed like a cat prepared to pounce. “You can’t just make me read that and keep me from you like this. Why were you so mad at me yesterday?”

“Because I love you, and now my life is over,” you said, smiling.

“Say that again,” he demanded. 

“My life is over?”

Satoru was seconds away from crying. “Y/N, please,” he said, “say you love me again. Say it now.”

He held the hand on his chest and kissed it. Kissed it again, the back of your palm, your fingertips, repeating the same three words.

“I love you?” you said.

“Well, don’t sound so unsure about it.”

You laughed. “Do you even like me back?”

Satoru stared from the rim of his glasses. Instead of replying, he tugged you closer with your arm and kissed your jaw. He hoped you would get it—that you would understand. He loved you first.

“More than anything,” he echoed. He looked into your eyes, your lips, torn. “Please, let me kiss you. You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I get a please now?”

Satoru’s eyes sharply dart down to your lips. Your grin faltered at the intensity of his stare. You swallowed, and he tracked every movement.

“You look a bit manic right now,” you said nervously.

“I’ll show you manic.”

You smiled, bumping your ankle against his back. When he glanced at it, you inched closer. His heart leaped to his throat, threatening to come out and get you.

“Are you seriously going to make a move on me now? My heart is broken, Satoru.”

“Is it really?” He grinned. “Or is it just split with me?”

“Okay, smartass,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just kiss me already.”

Satoru cut the distance between the two of you. He crashed clumsily, making both of you wince, but he tilted his head and suddenly— much better. He held you closer, hoping he could wipe away any other men from your life with all he could offer—him, needy, longing, crazed.

“Satoru—” you tried, but it was swallowed by his mouth, wishing you could breathe his name from your lips to his. This was almost as good as hearing you say you love him anyway.

[satoruhour]

AFTERCARE

a/n: an aftercare collection from da old blog, enjoy! plus also i had an anon asking abt nanami aftercare !!! u read my mind lol / tagging @na-t0, @jabamin who do i tag !!!!!

wc: 2k

warnings: overall fluff, contains nsfw at the start, pet names for all, praise, protected sex, implied breeding, tickle fight (gojo), unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (geto & nanami), implied fwb, cuddling, unprotected sex, creampie/breeding (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

“oh, good girl, that’s it,” gojo mumbles out breathlessly, forehead against yours as you both come together. his lips continue to mutter out praises because he knew how much they affected you, and he hopes that you’d forget all of his saccharine words just so he could make you shiver and whimper all over again. your back arches into his hold one last time, digging your nails into his back.

“you did so well for me — shit — i didn’t think you still had any energy left,” gojo laughs breathlessly at how tired you two were after a mission, yet you know none of you could hold back on each other when passion took over. there’s a slight smile lingering on his face at your sweat-filled forehead and heaving chest and he loves, loves that he’s the only one to make you feel this way. the way moonlight weaves through the window makes you look stunning, and gojo’s smile can’t help but widen.

“what?”

he shrugs, removing his flaccid cock from you and eventually, the condom from himself. he ties a knot quickly, dumping it into the trash beside the bed, but before he can make a move to the bathroom to get you a wet towel, he feels your weight on his arm. it makes his heart flutter and sends shivers down his spine at the thought of doing away with contraception altogether — how would you look with his baby? who’s features would they get? what— 

“satoru.” gojo snaps out of his stupor, observing silently while you moved across the bed to him (hell, you sometimes forget he has a king sized), kneeling so you’d almost be at his height. “why were you smiling at me earlier?”

he eyes you with a levelled stare, grin turning into a smirk, “nah, no, it was nothing, baby.”

“hmm… really?” your arms hang limply over his shoulders, “i feel like i should know, you know.”

gojo simply winks, cutting off the teasing atmosphere with a deep kiss before he takes advantage of the situation, hands flying to your sides and you yelp, loudly. your laughter breaks through the quietness at 1am, making your stomach hurt and body squirmy.

“just planning a tickle attack s’all, princess.”

“y-you— fiend!” you try your best to escape the torture, but gojo is relentless in seeing you suffer, his laughter mixing with yours as his initial agenda is yet again interrupted. “satoru!” you both collapse into the soft sheets, giggles slowly subsiding to broad smiles as you admire the other, and him, you.

“god, you’re beautiful.” gojo’s stare bores into you and you avoid eye contact just like every other time he’s told you that, but your lover made it a point to make it clear to you.

“i love you, my pretty girl.”

✶ GETO

geto doesn’t stop giving you kisses even when he releases in you, helping you through the overstimulation by holding you tight until the euphoric feeling subsides and everything halts. there’s a moment of quietness, save for some concerned questions from your boyfriend like he hadn’t just blown your back out.

“sweetheart? you okay?” his eyebrows knit together, always worried that he might’ve hurt you in any way. but you’re always too tired to answer after, simply settling for a delicate hand to his face and a faint nod.

“kiss me,” it comes out as a whisper and dies out, dazed and still on cloud nine and geto indulges you like the lovestruck lover he is. even if he doesn’t need your palm to guide him, he lets your hand bring him right to your lips where they lay waiting. his kiss is soft, unlike before, moulding against your lips perfectly and like always, it makes you sigh and smile. “how’re your lips always so soft?”

geto smiles, hair falling from his loose hair tie. it shields his face and you think he looks like a greek god. “they just are, darling.”

your boyfriend’s always prepared when it comes to cleaning you up, so he usually has towels draped across the bedside table’s railing. wetting it with some water, he warns you gently with the free hand that strokes your thigh.

“but i also sorta use the lip balm gojo uses.” he cheekily admits, hand still diligently wiping at your core. he makes sure to cover it one, twice, thrice, before turning around to stand up. “i can buy it and we’ll share it instead.”

from here, his eyes skim over how the sheets cover you, and how your pose is provocative yet guarded — like an unnamed muse in a romanticism painting. there’s a teasing tone in your smile, a slow and languid drag to your movements. your dramatic gasp cuts off his thoughts, and your acting falls apart when you see geto’s jaw dropping in faux shock, “so you’ve been indirectly kissing your best friend this whole time? how dare you, suguru?”

geto slaps you lightly with the towel, laughing, “you’re crazy.”

“and that’s why you love me.”

he simply rolls his eyes, crawling back onto the bed to come face to face with you, the you who’s still feeling a bit playful, the you who grins at him and thinks that you like your suguru unkempt and messy and drunk in love with you.

the kiss tastes a bit like cigarettes, a little less prominent than earlier, but it tastes like him, nevertheless. “yeah, yeah. although, you’re the only one i’d wanna kiss — no one else, but you.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami groans into your neck with a final thrust, skin feeling the way your body shivered and trembled at how his cock twitches in you. he pumps you full, drinking in the moans of his name and he stays sheathed in you, face buried in your neck like none other. you realise it’s his favourite position — to stay close to you, to feel your pulse, to hear the almost inaudible sounds.

“you’re perfect, fuck,” nanami says, breathless, body propped up with his elbows by your ears; and of course you’ve heard your lover swear — at gojo, at some stubborn curse, at the terrible dishwasher in your home in kuantan and at you, sometimes, but never said like this. nanami looks at you like you’ve the breeze of the beach and the sunset that dips below the horizon.

you had the privilege of seeing that everyday, yet nanami choses to look at you each time, even if you’re always fixated on the scene. today you get the chance to see the love he has stored for you within his irises, and before you can retaliate, you feel his lips on you. nanami moans into the kiss, the need to feel you again taking over him as he deepens it, kissing down your jaw and neck and chest until you remember the abandoned pancake batter you were mixing.

“kento, honey,” he hums into your chest, acting like a child dreading school. “we can’t leave the batter out in the open.”

nanami grunts, “just leave it. i’ll cook eggs and have some kaya on toast or something later.”

“but that’s exactly why we decided to cook pancakes!” you laugh softly, hands running through his blonde hair. it’s starting to whiten a bit, too, but you don’t mind. if anything, he makes getting old look good, “to have a change from our normal breakfast.”

nanami sighs, blinking tiredly at you as he lifts his head to look at you, and every time he fails to resist your expression. you’re not even doing anything, sitting there looking pretty and your husband simply can’t fathom the action of saying ‘no’. he doesn’t want to move from his place — because your profile against the endless stretch of the ocean is a vision he never thought would come true.

nanami gives in, like he always does.

“fine, you win.”

you cheer with a big grin that escalates into giggles as nanami sweeps you off the sheets, placing a kiss against your temple. he smiles at you, at the possibility of living here until he dies; and if that possibility is compromised, he’d fight to make it okay again. he would bring them to hell himself if he could.

nanami kento never liked killing curses, but for you, he would spill blood again just to keep you safe.

✶ TOJI

toji never gave up the chance to fuck you stupid, always propped up in some dingy motel while the money from his sorcerer missions are left on the bedside table. he has yet to splurge it, the need to gamble getting less and less the more and more he sees you. he grunts into your hair behind as your hands make a mess of the vanity table — both too needy today to use the bed — one hand under your leg and the other on your waist as he spills into you.

“that’s a good girl,” your pupils are blown wide at the unexpected orgasm as his cum spurts into you, hitting you like a truck that you’re begging for toji to slow down until he pulls out and his cum drips to the floor. but you notice he doesn’t scoop it up and tease you like always, he doesn’t tell his little insults while slipping on his pants, nor does he avoid aftercare like the lazy and non-chivalrous man he was — no, you notice the silent movements of toji. he was never this quiet, surprising you even more when he sits on the bed.

“what the hell are you starin’ at?” his eyes are locked on the floor, the distance from your to the bed a few mere steps yet it felt like crossing the globe.

you swallow. after all, he was still a large, bulking man, and while his gruff voice did wonders, it always made you a little terrified out of sex. “oh— uhm, nothing.” with another sigh from him, your curiosity gets the better of you, inching towards him with cautious steps. “toji-san?”

his hands are hesitant to reach out towards you, but they make haste to grip onto your waist and although they’re nothing like the rough ones earlier, you still get a flutter in your heart at how big his hands seem to be. they wrap around your waist before his head falls onto your stomach. too scared to ask, you just settle for playing with his hair, content with the warmness of the embrace.

“you’re making me confused.”

frowning, you raise his head from his safe place, “how so?”

you’re careful, because you know about toji’s past through rumours, you know about his hesitancy to show vulnerability. you’re holding his heart, and you’re hoping the words you mutter out don’t shatter and make him bleed again. toji grunts, yanking you down to sit beside him before staring into space as the night winds down. you can both hear the rooms quietening down and the world going to sleep.

“i don’t like this.”

and your heart breaks, because of how toji hates love and how every experience has never ended positively. we fuck and i leave, got it? if you tell me you like me or something, i’m breaking this off. so you lean forward to hold his cheek, offering a small smile. ironic that he’s told you that and yet he feels like he’s the one who broke his own rule.

“it’s okay if you don’t, i’ll be here no matter how you’re feeling; i won’t even say a word.”

toji curls his lip in disgust, but you know he doesn’t mean it when he grabs your hand, “that line was cheesy. i fuckin’ hate it.”

“it was good, i liked it.”

he only shakes his head with a sigh and lies down along with a gesture that says are you coming or what? before your smile is uncontainable and you’re moving to his side. even if you’ve only known what his body feels against you, you’re already hoping it’d happen again and toji reluctantly feels the same, wrapping an arm around your waist with lips to your hair. your heart soars when he doesn’t move away from your hand interlacing with his.

“not a word.”

you giggle at his tone, and the harshness of it. and if you read in between the lines, you’d see that there’s a bit of endearment in him, you just hoped you had the rest of your life to make him love love again.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dating Bang Chan

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning/s: mdni, mentions of insecurities

a/n: i had a stressful week and this was just sitting in my drafts. this is just a collection of random thoughts i had bcs i'm soft for chan♡ 

(i'll probably do this for every member eventually)

Chan is such a sweetheart. Expect to be hugged and pulled into his lap all the freaking time. He needs to have his hands on you somehow no matter where you are or what you're doing. Chan will give you a back hug and then pull you into him, burying his face in your hair. He loves skinship like that especially with people who bring him comfort like you do.

Chan is the type of boyfriend who will always ask if you're hungry, thirsty or cold and if you need anything at all he will stop what he was doing and get it for you. He always wants you to feel comfortable.

He is also very playful and will tease you all the time. I also feel like he is that type of boyfriend that will swoop you up and put you over his shoulders all the damn time especially while you're doing something just to get a rise out of you. He will laugh cutely as you trash around and yell at him to 'put you down or else' but you both know you're laughing too.

You become so close to his mother and sister, and you and Hannah team up to tease him together. Berry also adores you and always runs to you whenever you visit. Chan will playfully pout and sulk, saying that 'his family replaced him' but he is actually so thrilled that you get along.

He daydreams a lot about your future together, imagines you two getting married and starting a family and it makes him all giddy and giggly. Some things he's too shy to say to you directly so he puts them in songs that he writes for you.

Chan will watch every movie and listen to every song you recommend him. He wants to know what you like and why you like it so send him cute songs and tell him that they made you think of him.

Late night adventures. Driving around aimlessly as you listen to music, getting something to eat from a convenience store or a gas station. He pulls up somewhere secluded where you have the perfect view of the city. You eat, talk and look at the stars together. Kisses are shared, hands are roaming and pretty soon you end up in the backseat of the car.

Chan will take you out to dinner, bring you flowers, take you out to the arcade, to an ice cream date, to the beach, everywhere and anywhere, he just wants you to have fun together. But he will also enjoy a quiet night at home, while he works on his laptop and you're cuddled up to him reading a book.

He always puts you first, your needs above his so you have to scold him when he tells you he forgot to eat dinner. You bring him food to the studio and he's happy to see you but sad that he made you upset. You tell him you'll forgive him if he eats everything you brought him and he happily will.

Arguments with Chan would probably mostly happen when he's sleep deprived because he gets snappy then. His voice raises a little (not on purpose) but as soon as he sees tears forming in your eyes he will start apologizing. You tell him you need a few moments and obviously he does too, so he leaves to another room to cool off a little. When he comes back out, you two sit down and talk it out. You never want to go to bed angry or without resolving a fight.

No matter if you live together or you're sleeping over at each other's places you can forget about personal space. When you go to bed at night, Chan will cling onto you, he will pull you into him and hold you tight. Good luck on trying to move until the morning. Showers together because why wouldn't you wanna save water?

Absolute gentleman. Will open doors for you, move your chair, help you put your jacket on, you'll never have to carry anything heavy. He knows you can do it but he just wants to treat you like the queen you are and you better indulge him or he will sulk.

Sometimes, Chan feels insecure and nothing can make him feel better than your arms around him, his head on your chest as you gently tell him about everything you love and admire about him. He's used to always being alert and taking care of others so he'd love for you to take care of him sometimes like that, baby him a little, it lights his heart up.

Little moments when he's concentrated on something or lost in his own little world always make you gush at him and your camera is full of his cute moments, when he realizes you're filming him, he gets shy and you capture his sweet smile and cute giggles.

This man will also never give you room to doubt yourself. He will remind you every single day how much he loves you and respects you. How beautiful you are to him, every single part of you, every scar, stretchmark, anything you're insecure about he'll give extra kisses and caresses to that part of you just so you start loving yourself more.

Back hugs. Back hugs. BACK HUGS. FOREHEAD KISSES. HAND HOLDING. THIGH SQUEEZING.

Make him sleep please! He needs to rest and often pulls all-nighters but if you offer him cuddles he can't say no, he has to join you in bed.

You wear matching bracelets!🥺 And they're ones that you make by yourselves with cute colorful beads and maybe your initials and it's just so adorable!

Random cuteness agression moments where Chan can't contain all the love he has for you so he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You squeal and you both end up giggling and play-fighting. Will also tickle you every chance he gets. You're never safe from Chan the tickle monster. (He just loves touching you and loves seeing you laugh, deal with it.)

Okay but your mom will love him so much. He's the type of boyfriend that will treat your mom like his own. Anything she needs help with, he will help no questions asked. She's already calling him her son-in-law.

You need help fixing something around the house? Chan is your man. Just imagine those arms of his as he's working on something, wearing just a tanktop. (😩)

You can talk to him about anything really, he loves to listen to you ramble about your friends or work, sometimes he starts teasing you in the middle of your rambling, repeating what you're saying or reacting dramatically. You smack his thigh or arm and whine that he's not taking it seriously. He just laughs at you and promises to listen seriously with a goofy face.

But when it comes to actual serious issues, you can really rely on Chan. He will hold your hand and caress you as you tell him your worries. He'll listen without interrupting, letting you vent to him. When you're done he will do everything he can to comfort you, motivate you, make you feel better, help you get through whatever you're struggling with.

Talks about you all the time, he's so proud to be yours and he's just infatuated with you. Giggles to himself when he thinks about you. He just adores you so much.

[isokoin]

hi bub! i'd love to see miguel hc's about how he'd be for domestic stuff around the house. cooking/baking together, spending time together, cute things like that :D

miguel o'hara domestic headcanons

一 pairing; miguel o'hara x male reader

note: hi love, thank you for suggesting this. some soft content is a nice switch-up to what i usually put out. i hope you enjoy! ‹𝟹

🗯️ when you're cooking, miguel loves to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist. he nuzzles his face into the back of your nape and places soft kisses on your skin.

🗯️ if you ask him to taste test, he takes a few more bites than he's meant to. one time you asked him to watch over your soup and when you came back he finished a bowl of it already. needless to say, you were quite pissed and every time you asked for his help, you'd take 30 second intervals to make sure the food isn't gone.

🗯️ miguel LOVES to clean. this man dislikes having a disorganized place to work, let alone live in. ask him to dust the shelves? got it. you point to the trash? it's already taken out. you don't even need to ask him, he just does it. this also stems from his love for you, as acts of service are one of the ways he shows love.

🗯️ ever since you started dating, there hasn't been a day where you've done groceries by yourselves. the both of you ALWAYS do it together and have agreed that it's more fun that way. of course, he pushes the cart and you're looking through the grocery list. you don't trust him to do it because he ends up getting the wrong item, especially since he does not read labels... get this man out of the kitchen!

🗯️ adding on, he carries the grocery bags in for you. he does this thing where he challenges himself as to how many he can hold. so far, his record is 20. how does that work? you don't know. he finds a way to do it and it impresses you, which is what he wants to do.

🗯️ miguel is more of a baker than you are. when you mention that you want to bake, he becomes a different person who actually reads labels and does everything with perfection.

🗯️ one time you playfully threw flour on him and he took it too far by dumping the rest on your head. it was pretty funny, but he spent more than an hour trying to clean up the mess in the kitchen.

🗯️ he keeps up with his telenovela's and always asks you to watch it with him. he even saves it for when you're home to watch it and its the sweetest thing ever. how you could you ever say no?

🗯️ miguel loves being little spoon. never thinking that he was the type to before you started dating, you're now glad he's able to feel safe around you to do so.

🗯️ he reads and loves reading to you. sometimes he randomly comes up to you and reads a line, expecting you to understand what he means. without context, its quite confusing. but you nod your head and agree with him, which he then replies with "right?! i knew you'd agree!" and walk away. you blink a few times to process what just happened and then go about your day like normal, but its such a common occurrence you've gotten used to it. its like a routine and you feel incomplete without him doing it.

🗯️ simply being in each other's presence is enough for both of you. you can do two different things while existing in the same space and the comfort of one another is what you cherish the most.

[alicerosejensen]

Together forever pt.3

Warning: Yandere!leon; kidnapping, forced cohabitation, stalkering, fem/reader, age difference, pet names.

A/N: I wrote this earlier, but I will repeat it again so that there are no complaints: I do not approve of this in real life. What is written here is simply fiction, if you have any psychological trauma associated with this or do not like such content then DO NOT READ!

Part 1

Part 2

He really didn’t want to resort to force, but you simply left him no choice...

Flashback to weeks earlier, when you weren't yet under his protection, Leon was analyzing everything about his sweet angel. Well, ultimately, carrying your once again unconscious body back to bed, of course, the last thing he wanted was for you to get injured, but you never know what stupid thoughts could come to your mind after waking up again, so putting you into bed, he pulled out the handcuffs and chained your hand to the headboard of the bed. Not very comfortable but you can sleep.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't want to keep you on a leash like a dog at all, but Leon has noticed for a long time that you are in constant danger. Back in that dusty archive, when you reached for another folder, the laces on your worn sneakers were untied. Darling, you don't know how to tie your shoelaces at all! He immediately thought that you could have fallen and broken your neck or any other bone, you could even have died by your own negligence! It's good that Agent Kennedy was around, right?

Looking at how you sleep and your eyelids twitch in your sleep, Leon threw the blanket back over you. He knows that your sleep is restless, in fact, he almost knows about nightmares, but you didn't need to be afraid anymore. Nevertheless, Leon was well aware that a sudden change of situation and getting used to the new rules that he created to protect you would be stressful for some time. However, it was still better than wandering through dark unsafe alleys alone on the way home, drinking drinks in cheap bars with your friends who didn't even bother to call you a taxi. Leon doesn't know who to thank for the fact that you're still alive and haven't been raped by some asshole who would break your whole life. Despite the fact that the DSO pays its people well, this rather applies to agents and various informants who risk their lives, but small archivists like you do not interest them at all. Therefore, his angel could not afford a nice apartment in a decent neighborhood without bastards and drug dealers who would gladly get you hooked on some trash. The door of your apartment was indecently easy to open Leon would have done it without a lock pick without any problems, but he didn't want to scare you, however…

It is now his house completely at your disposal. The refrigerator is filled with high-quality products and not cheap instant noodles whose packages were lying in your trash. Money was really tight, wasn't it? A mug with a touch of tea or coffee that for some reason you didn't want to wash well, an unmade bed with your smell that he liked to inhale so much. The moment he plopped down on your bed, the desire to hold you in his arms just took root in him.

He wanted your scent to sink deep into him, to penetrate into every cell of his body. He just needed to possess you. That's why Leon couldn't wait, especially since you never let him become anything closer than just a colleague with whom you chatted during lunch. At some point, knowing where you live, he even came up with the idea that you were really offended, but there was nothing about it from your correspondence or medical records. Like you just liked being alone.

He was watching you to keep you safe. He walked you home ready to become a savior at any moment, it's not the first time he's saved a lady in trouble, despite the fact that you weren't actually that lady. Not according to Leon. Sometimes he came to your apartment and leafed through your books that he didn't like, but he didn't judge. He was taught to be quiet and inconspicuous, so it was extremely difficult to understand about someone else's presence. The only thing that really started to bother you is that things sometimes rearrange themselves and the old traces of coffee on your favorite mug magically disappeared. Robberies were not uncommon in this troubled area, but the only valuable things in your apartment were a laptop and a game console. Actually, it was important for Leon to know about all your preferences!

Now it was all in the past. You're safe here with him, away from all the shit that can hurt you. And in fact, you no longer need to worry about bills and how to live until the next paycheck. Leon doesn't consider himself a psycho when he lies down next to you, inhaling the scent of your body, pulling you to him, kissing your temple. After all, if you want, he will become the hero of those stupid books for you.

"I will definitely take care of you," he whispers, making you shudder in your sleep after hearing this insinuating voice that leaves no chance of salvation.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Your resistance is really annoying. You are still sitting handcuffed to the bed and there are already bloody marks on your wrist from the skin erased into blood after a steady twitching of your hand.

"I just need to dress you up," Leon says in a calm voice, while his patience still allows him to hold in his hands cute clothes for his angel.

Skirt, tights, and a warm sweater. Of course it's warm at home, but he wants to be sure that you have everything you need. That's just you kicking, yelling at him and crying incessantly ignoring the pain in your wrist.

"Baby, don't make me use force. Enough of this moaning!"

"Let me go!" you shout on the verge of pulling the hated handcuffs even without looking at him. Over the past two days, hysteria has been covering you with your head constantly not allowing you to think clearly.

Leon sighs. In any case, he doesn't want to stuff you with drugs anymore, and then what he was trained as an agent comes into play. He needs to break the will of the enemy or rather his beloved. He didn't want to take emergency measures, but you just forced him. He comes up to you squatting down and takes your face by the chin, forcing you to look into his cold eyes. The prepared clothes fly to a chair that is too far from the bed to reach it, but it doesn't matter anymore.

"To be honest, I didn't think that you would calmly react to the move," you were outraged when you heard his words

"Moving in with you?!" you cry out. Tears are spurting from eyes. "Since when is kidnapping suddenly called moving?! I'm not a stray animal for you to just pick me up and stab me in the neck with various rubbish!"

"I could have been slower, but you just left me no choice. Seriously, I could no longer watch you live in that anthill and spend 10 hours in a dusty room earning yourself asthma. Although considering your problems with shoelaces, I would bet that you would have killed yourself earlier by falling off a stepladder or would have been crushed by one of those huge boxes with folders."

“what?.." a guess flashes through your head.

Of course, he could probably somehow get a dossier on you and find out the address of your residence, but… rearranged things, a mug… Did he break into your apartment? You've heard that Leon was one of the best. Patrick even once mentioned that the president himself constantly praised Leon and his services to the country could not be called insignificant. There are many successfully completed missions behind him, but you have never really cared about it. At least until you yourself become one of these successful missions.

"Your poor stomach won't thank you for stuffing it with these disgusting noodles and chocolate. You need to eat right, honey," his words make you angry "You need a proper daily routine, good sleep, fresh air and balanced nutrition. I can provide you with all this, but you only need to be my good girl."

Leon's hands grab you by the face and his forehead presses against yours when he closes his eyes, stroking your cheeks wet with tears with his thumb, then briefly and gently kissing your lips, which is why you try to turn away from him.

"Heal your head!" another shout and insult. "As an agent, you're probably supposed to have some fancy psychiatrist or psychologist!"

"It's true," he easily agrees, biting his lip and getting back on his feet. It still didn't work out in a good way to solve the issue "One way or another, you will obey me. I just wanted us to come to this without unnecessary conflict and tantrums, but if you like it more, then fine. Sit alone for a couple of days without food and water. And I'll come back later and you'll tell me about your decision."

"Wait!" You called out to him almost at the door when he had already turned the handle. Leon turned in anticipation of your words and probably there was still a glimmer of hope in him that you would accept his love right now without radical decisions. "You can't keep me here! My family and at work will be looking for me. No one will believe that I just disappeared!"

Leon only grinned briefly.

"Oh, sweetheart. People disappear every day and believe me, many don't care about them, and as for your family, they could take better care of you, but if they didn't, then this care falls on my shoulders"

The hope that it was just a way of intimidation for further submission glowed deep in your chest. No matter how much the soul did not want it, the brain still suggested that Leon was never the one for whom he could be mistaken. The sound of his footsteps quickly subsided and occasionally you could catch some rustling and knocking on the ground floor. Didn't want to know what Kennedy was doing there, but fear kept throwing up ideas about some sadistic torture room and the fact that he wanted you to forcibly become his girlfriend made you suspect of possible sexual abuse after which it would be impossible to become the same.

And yet the wounded deer jumps higher, fights more desperately. You tried to somehow take off your handcuffs, and to be honest with yourself, your hand was really hurting mercilessly that you wanted to howl. It will be quite difficult without an analgesic. The search for some kind of paper clip, an accidentally lying nail under the bed or something with which you could unlock the lock was not successful. However, you didn't have the hacking skill either, and the handcuffs definitely weren't from some sex shop. Steel bites into the skin until it bleeds, and it would be worth listening to Leon though in this: no need to make sudden movements. Moreover, there are already enough bloodstains on the bed linen, but you were so absorbed in despair that the brain simply ignored part of the pain, but very soon it will be very hard.

Add to that the fact that Leon decided to starve you.

At first, everything was even tolerable. The stomach began to cramp from hunger only in the evening add to this the fact that you are being kept locked up handcuffed to the bed makes your body exhausted. You cried for several hours, but Leon's mercy did not descend to you. It really wasn't a prank and he kidnapped you for his own purposes, which you didn't want to know anything about.

"Leon?.." is quieter than you wanted, you called him again.

It all seemed like a nightmare. Time dragged on so slowly that it was unbearable and scary from the unknown. You were hoping that Leon had made a mistake somewhere and the police would find you very soon, the main thing at this moment is to stay alive and not dead because you definitely won't be able to win by force against a government agent who has undergone professional training and completed many successful missions. When your nerves calmed down a little, you started thinking about how to deceive him. It may not be possible to escape, but send an SMS or make a call to the rescue service. You've heard these stories when a girl called under some pretext and was rescued, but will Leon trust you with the phone?

Later you heard footsteps. Probably Leon was listening to the sounds that you could make, but you were silent, looking at the door with the eyes of a frightened doe. However, nothing happened.

He's probably gone.

The throat was dry. You tightly squeezed your eyes shut trying to calm your breathing and come up with a plan of action. If hunger helped at first, then as time went on, the thought of food and water constantly stirred your thoughts.

there was one maddening silence around. Your wrist began to itch and throb painfully, the blood clotted, but at the slightest movement it began to bleed. It got dark outside again and it started to get cold. You carefully crawled under the blanket, covering your frozen feet with it, trying not to think about the desired water, especially since you had of blood loss. How long can you live without water? 3 days? 4 maybe 5 days?

"Please?" you whispered softly, starting to cry again and giving in to panic. "Leon?"

You needed painkillers. It was a bad idea to actively pull with your hand, but people often do what is not necessary when they panic and you had enough reasons to worry, but in the end there was no point in protesting. Not when you are on someone else's territory under the power of a physically strong person. And yet, most of you wanted to scream and scream, beat him and fight, and not invent plans to escape and naively rely on his mercy, which probably does not exist.

"Leon!" you called again louder in a plaintive voice, licking your dry lips. "Please… at least give me some water."

Drugs and stress perfectly lead to dehydration. Especially the first one considering that you were sick earlier. But Leon was still deaf to the pleas, it was generally quiet downstairs. Maybe he was already asleep?

By nightfall, the condition only worsened. You wrist was swollen and even the slightest movement caused hellish pain, throat was dry and your stomach hurt wildly that it began to seem that he began to digest himself. Maybe agents can safely endure such trials with dignity, but again, you have never been interested in this. You didn't even have the strength to cry.

Actually, it didn't take him two days because his heart was just bursting with pity for you.

Leon looked at you with such a puppy-dog look when you were sitting on the bed with your head bowed and trembling. Well, one day would be enough for his princess, and he sincerely hoped that this punishment would be more than enough.

Click.

You shuddered from another flash of pain and when you opened your eyes, you shuddered with fright when you came face to face with him again.

However, the handcuffs were removed.

"poor girl, I really didn't want anything," he threw the handcuffs on the bedside table, "But sometimes we have to do things that we don't like, right? if you hadn't screamed, things wouldn't be so bad right now and your arm wouldn't be swollen."

He stretched out his arms to lift you up, but noticed another resistance when your tired body moved away from him, which made Leon look at you with a threatening look again.

"Do you want to sit like this for another day?"

You nodded your head negatively and out of fear allowed him to lift you up to lower you to the first floor.

"Give me some water, please…" by God, this was the only thought in head

"Be patient angel" Leon's lips touched your temple when he put you on the sofa.

The glass of water handed to you turned out to be so desirable that it seemed you were a traveler lost in the desert who found an oasis. And yet Leon didn't limit you to one glass, allowing you to drink as much as you need, BUT in small sips. Given the thirst, you ignored his words and eventually choked, starting to cough while covering your face with your hand. Of course he didn't like it.

"Sure it's my fault, but you have to listen to me!" An irritated male voice made you shrink and look at him with those cute eyes that Leon loves and hates so much because you are afraid of him.

He put the first aid kit next to the table and took your wrist carefully, first examining the deep abrasion. You screamed loudly when Leon treated her with a disinfectant solution and then wrapped her in a bandage. having previously smeared some ointment, but it did not hurt less from this. And then he kissed you on the forehead like a brave child for whom it was a feat to endure such a thing.

"What do you want from me anyway?" you asked, afraid of the answer anyway, because your presence here did not bode well. "I didn't do anything wrong to you"

"I didn't say you did anything to me. I just want to take care and keep the one I love safe. In this case, it's you."

"Me?"

"Exactly," he smiled, sitting closer, "I wanted everything to be like everyone else, but you didn't give me a chance. Good for Patrick, too. And yet, to see how you walk everywhere where there is a potential danger… I just couldn't, Princess. I just couldn't take it anymore. But now I promise that I will take care of you and I know you better than you know yourself! Just leave all the tantrums of the fight. No more bumps or bites. I'm serious!"

Yes, there was a good mark of your teeth on his hand.

Although you didn't smile and were actually horrified by the human diversity, one thing was clear for sure even through fear - he wasn't going to kill you or…rape. The latter is not accurate, but the soul hoped for it.

"Just let's do it in order." You reluctantly nodded knowing that you have no choice "First we will put you in order, I will make you a bath and you wash, then you will eat and we will have a good rest and in the morning I will tell you about the rules with a fresh head. I will give you everything you want: books, clothes, cosmetics, whatever you want, but in return, no resistance, okay?!" Leon's hand stroked your tangled hair and at the same time pulled you closer to him against your will, but even despite a little resistance, he pressed you to his chest. "I won't be in a hurry. We will go slowly, there is no need to be afraid for me, the main thing is your safety, and there will be time for the rest"

And hear the joyful beating of his heart, you hoped only that you would have enough time to find help or escape, but for now… you may have to be not an obedient but a cunning girl, otherwise the consequences can be fatal.

For now, you need to wait for the moment and find its weaknesses.

[grapejuicestyless]

part 2 for so long london w/ a happy ending please I loved it sm😭😭

loml.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: After nearly a year apart and an album later, turns out you and Harry aren’t doing as well as you let off to be. Part 2 to So Long, London

Seeing him across the room even after all this time sends chills down my spine. I recall the warm feeling of his hands against my spine and the smell of gunpowder as he aims his pistol at my heart.

It’s funny seeing him now that he’s written down his feelings and published them like a diary for the world to read. I know more about his heart than he led me on to know. I know how he claims to have felt shattered inside with the realization he lost the “love of his life” and how we walked the fine line between being perfect and violently broken. But really, what is perfect when it comes to us?

He wrote down some things I just can’t unabsorb. His songs turning me into more of an idea of sorts. It felt like watching the story of our love from afar. The details were there, but they weren’t quite right. He writes about how we danced in the kitchen listening to trash pop music, but he leaves out the way we always stumbled over the chipped tile by the counters. Does he remember how he’d lead us there purposely so he could wrap his arms around my cold body and save me?

Seeing him now I can feel his eyes drift to mine every couple seconds, his gaze burning into my side profile while I down another glass trying to shake the feeling.

I feel stupid now, seeing him at our best friend’s wedding. He’s in a suit and tie, his hair curled around his eye and a red tint from the sun on his cheeks. I feel even more stupid wearing a green dress on the opposite side of the alter, holding flowers and smiling at how the bride and groom promise themselves in sickness and in health.

I’m not stupid though, I can hear the whispers about how we almost had it all. The flowers picked out from the catalog dull in comparison to the ones we had picked out for each other by the third week together. When I sit with the bridesmaids, I hear their snickers at the bride, how lucky she is to be the first married, how they always thought it would have been me.

But I’m a good friend, and a damn good actress. I can paste on a smile and act like the jokes they sneak into their speeches about how they never saw it coming, telling stories about the newlyweds that should have been about us are funny. But I can’t help the way I start to sweat when they begin to quote the same words Harry had written down for me.

All of our love story written down for the public to use, words he penned on the paper with my face in mind belong to someone new now, “I love you’s” whispered between couples who once dreamed of having a love like ours.

“I remember meeting you in September of last year, you were wearing a yellow dress and red shoes. You didn’t match, but you made it look good. I thought you were beautiful, I just had to have you. And when you decided to go for a guy like me, I knew you were the one instantly. Just like our good friend Harry once said, ‘She’s an angel, my only angel.’” I don’t listen to his heartfelt speech anymore, I can’t even look at the smile on my friends face as he serenades her anymore, I feel like someones just ripped out my heart and claimed it as their own.

And like someone was praying for me to cry, to finally break and show everyone just how not okay I am, his eyes are on mine, and he’s not looking away. When my eyes catch his, I mentally curse myself, wishing I could sink into the seat beneath me. I excuse myself to use the bathroom, grabbing the bottom of my dress to make down the long hallways of the beautiful venue that should have been ours.

“Y/n.” His accent is thick in the foggy room, eyes dimmer than I remember. He runs after me, voices from the reception muffled by the walls put between us.

My eyes trace over his body, studying the way he sighs out my name. Can he hear my heart crashing down as I realize I’ve lost my touch? I cannot tell if he’s relieved or obligated to be standing so close.

I swallow hard, his english accent drawing me back to the place I once loved so much. My new home fulls in comparison to what we once had, and I can’t help but still hold a grudge for him taking that all away from me, for ruining a sacred city and crushing it between his fingers.

“You look good.” I break the awkward silence that falls between us, his lips parted like an idiot, like he ran without thinking and forgot how to talk.

“Me? God, you look breathtaking.”

I would have blushed not long ago, curtsying at his comment and kicking my feet beneath the table cloth, but now the compliment is empty and instead feels backhanded in some odd way.

“Oh…well thank you. I tried my best.” I laugh bitterly, and the shine in his eyes tells me he misses the unhappiness in my giggles.

When he doesn’t speak again, I swear I can feel my skin shifting over my bones every time I breathe.

“Well, it was good seeing you.” I lie through my teeth, turning on my heals and wiping away any tears gathering on my waterline.

“You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to avoid me. I know things aren’t the same between us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still look for you in every room I walk into. You’re the love of my life, even now.” He confesses, stepping closer.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t. I’m not in any rooms you’re in anymore.”

“But maybe I wish you were.” He says with a smirk, stepping closer and trying to slip his hand into mine, but it’s like needles stabbing into my skin, I cannot hold onto him, so I slip away.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

He grabs me again, a hold so desperate to keep me in his grasp, one I haven’t felt in a long time. Classic move from Mr. Steal Your Girl. The man who promised rings and cradles, the dame man who swooned over the small things and rolled his eyes as he turned his back. Mr. Make Her Cry.

“Y/n I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“It’s not. It can’t be, we already did that right?” I turn to him teary eyed, my wrist burning under the grip of his cold rings decorated on his warm hands.

“No, that’s not what that was.”

“Then what was it?”

He swallows, but keeps looking me in the eyes like he means everything he’s preparing to say.

“We were so young. I was scared, and I pulled away. It was wrong, but I thought you’d be better off with someone who wasn’t afraid to grow up.”

“I would have waited. You know that.” He nods.

“I know. But it’s not fair.”

“No, whats not fair is you coming back to me after leaving me stranded in a place I can’t even fucking stand to be near anymore! God, you’re such an asshole, talking rings and talking cradles and then claiming to be scared for a future you planned. You don’t do that, not to the love of your life, and you sure as hell don’t leave them stranded and alone. How dare you think it was romantic to have done that to me?” I spit venom from my tongue, my eyes clouded with tears. “You promised to never leave, then what? Never mind? You think you’re such a hero for leaving me but in reality you’re a coward. Letting me think we had it all, we almost had it all and the. You leave? What do I do with myself now that you’ve come back? Do you want me to forgive you? Harry, I might be the love of your life but you’re the loss of mine.”

“I know, I know.”

“Stop saying you know when you don’t!” I scream, quieting down as I remember where we stand, and I silently pray I haven’t spoiled such a beautiful wedding.

“I’m not claiming to have been a good partner, god knows about all my faults and I’ve gone away to fix them, and you’re here now, and I don’t know how I’ll ever find you again if I do not ask now, but I need you to listen to me now before it’s too late because I’ve never felt a hole in my chest like this, and I need you to see how badly I need you back in my life, I need you to trust me when I say I’m committed this time.” He pleads, his hands trembling in mine.

My lip trembles at the feeling of his skin on mine, my face colliding with his shoulder in a suffocating hug, I can feel myself falling back into his wicked grip, but when he holds me like this, it feels more like flying than falling, at least until the bone crush.

Standing in the hallway of a wedding built for us, but dedicated to another, I see us dancing in the kitchen again, the steps burned into my head as we waltz back into rekindled flames. His love is just so warm, fuck it if I get burned, if it falls apart again.

He’s the loss of my life, Mr. Writes Me Love Songs, Mr. Dances With Me In The Kitchen.

But for now, at least under the false illusion’s presented within this luxurious wedding, he’ll be the love of my life.

[elyvorg]

The Real Reason That Sissel Refused to Help

(or: the subtle genius of Ghost Trick’s tutorial)

“I just want to find my own lost memory. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Here’s a post in which I talk about this particular part of Ghost Trick’s story, which I’m keeping as vague as possible outside of the spoiler cut, but those who’ve finished the game should know what I’m referring to. What’s actually going on here is rather interesting, and paints our friend Sissel in a much less negative light than the face-value assumption I tend to see most people jumping to with this.

First, though, I have written a fic illustrating this idea in narrative form rather than lengthily explaining it. If you’re interested, I recommend you go read that first before reading this, because being shown is more fun than being told!

(Also, spoilers, obviously. Go play Ghost Trick if you haven’t; it’s so good and absolutely not the kind of thing you want to be spoiled for.)

So, in the original timeline, Sissel refused to help Missile save his mistresses, stating that he just wants to find his own lost memories.

It could easily seem at a glance like Sissel’s character development over the course of the game is that he started off selfish, only caring about his own mystery, and it’s only through getting attached to everyone throughout the night that he begins to care about others and the bigger picture. As such, his refusal to help Missile in the original timeline is easy to read as being born of that, since this was early on when Sissel still only cared about himself.

But… it’s not actually that simple, because Sissel isn’t as selfish in the beginning as one might think. Sure, he’ll say things like “I have to focus on my own mystery”, or “this is all for my own benefit”. But that doesn’t actually match up with his actions. His own mystery may be, in theory, his number one priority, but a remarkably close second priority for him is to save the lives of any dead person he happens to come across. Even very early on, before he’s grown to care about any of these people!

He doesn’t hesitate to save Missile, despite having zero reason to assume that this little doggie will be any help with his mystery. The second time he finds Lynne dead, when he’s getting to talk to her and learns that she doesn’t actually know much about him and probably won’t be able to help him because she’s got her own case to pursue tonight, he still reassures her that she doesn’t owe him and he’s going to save her life anyway.

And even right at Lynne’s very first death, in the game’s opening narration, Sissel makes a point that he doesn’t want to stand back and let her get shot, and that he feels bad for her, despite her being a complete stranger!

Evidently, even right at the beginning, Sissel isn’t selfish. He just thinks he is. Because cats can be tsundere like that.

Sissel:  “Why am I so determined to save this woman? After all, it’s not as if I know her. My reason is twofold. Number one, I’m not the type to leave women lying around, discarded like trash.”

(Here’s a bit from later in chapter 1 featuring Sissel being amusingly surprised by his own altruistic streak. He seems to expect to only care about himself – yet here he is, not wanting to leave a stranger lying dead if he can help it. Not so selfish after all, huh?)

So if that’s not the problem in the original timeline, then what is? Why does Sissel leave Missile to deal with saving his ladies alone when he’d have no reason not to try and help? – after all, he hasn’t been given a fake time limit in this timeline! He’s not even in a hurry with his own mystery! For that matter, Sissel was still there in the junkyard at the beginning – why didn’t he just save Lynne himself?

We can get a good indication of what the issue is from that very same opening narration I was just talking about.

Sissel:  “Now, I’m not the kind of guy who can just stand back and watch a poor woman get shot. But I have just one little problem… I’m already dead myself.”

Sissel:  “I feel bad for her, sure. But what can I do? I’m dead. But just as I was thinking that…”

The real problem is not that he doesn’t care about saving a stranger’s life. Rather, it’s that, because he’s dead, he doesn’t think he can. He’s not expecting to magically have ghost superpowers; why would he?

And it’s just as he was thinking that he can’t do anything (which, while part of his screen-filling monologue narration, was still his thoughts and therefore something any nearby ghost could hear)… that Ray speaks up to tell him that actually he can save her.

Sissel:  “Huh?” (Me? Save her? Uh, how?)

Immediately, Sissel questions the notion once again, not with a why but with a how. It’s not that he doesn’t want to; he simply doesn’t think it’s possible.

This general idea continues throughout the entire tutorial, which is absolutely packed with lines that show Sissel being deeply sceptical about the idea that he could possibly save someone’s life or alter someone’s fate.

Once Ray’s taught him about his basic ghost tricks and he’s managed to delay Lynne’s death by a few moments… she still ends up dead anyway. And Sissel thinks that’s it. Because of course he does. Even if he can stop time and manipulate objects, he has zero reason to believe that his powers can undo a death that’s already happened.

Sissel:  “In the end, it looks like her fate remains unchanged. So what good are these ‘ghost tricks’ of mine? But just as I was thinking this…”

Sissel:  “It looks like my ghost tricks didn’t do much good.” (She still ended up just as dead as before.)

He even ends up feeling like his new superpowers are barely worth anything, because he can play a few little tricks on someone, but that’s not enough to save someone’s life, is it?

Ray:  “Isn’t it a shame to see such a pretty young woman lying here discarded like a piece of trash?” Sissel:  “But what can I do? She’s already dead.”

Ray:  “And while she’s resting, you can save her life.” Sissel:  “Oh, sure. You make it sound so easy.”

And again, he’s very dismissive of Ray implying or telling him that he can do something about this. After all, how could that be possible any more?

In particular, there’s this vital little bit of trickery here…

Ray:  “Now what do you suppose will happen if you possess a corpse?” Sissel:  “Nothing, because I already tried that, remember? And nothing happened at all.”

…in which Sissel assumes his powers just don’t work on corpses, because he’s already tried and failed to do anything with “his” corpse. If he’d been alone, without Ray to guide him through things, he most likely wouldn’t have even tried to possess Lynne’s corpse in the first place, because he would have had no reason to believe it would achieve anything!

(Meanwhile, Missile in the original timeline also had zero reason to believe he could do anything for Kamila, but he was so anguished and desperate that of course he would have tried anyway. He’d try anything to save her, because he is good and loyal and Dog. So he was able to discover his time-rewinding powers where Sissel didn’t, and thus he passed that knowledge onto Sissel in the game’s timeline.)

And as Ray tells Sissel that he can in fact rewind time to redo the last moments of Lynne’s life, he’s completely dumbfounded and bewildered by the very idea of it.

Sissel:  “Are you serious?! Back through time?!”

Sissel:  “But this is crazy! None of it makes any sense!”

Ray:  “To the time four minutes before this woman was murdered!” Sissel:  “H-Hey, wait a second! I still don’t know what you’re talking about!”

What is this lamp even talking about?! Of course turning back time isn’t possible! He had no reason to believe it was possible, even as part of his new wacky ghost powers.

(Meanwhile, when Sissel is saving Missile in the game, we get a little exchange that shows Missile being completely unfazed by the idea that Sissel’s brought them back in time. It’s no weirder than humans walking around on two legs, right? One way or another, the cat can barely wrap his head around it, while the dog sees it as perfectly plausible.)

One thing Ray says more than once during the tutorial is, “The best thing to do is try it.” Because Sissel is being so stubbornly cynical that he will not take this desk lamp’s word about how useful his powers are and has to literally be pushed into trying it himself in order to believe it, every time.

Even after seeing for himself that he can go back in time and watch Lynne’s death again, Sissel still manages to be pessimistic about this.

Ray:  “And there you have it. The last four minutes of her life.” Sissel:  [strained] “No…!” Ray:  “It’s kind of ironic, when you think about it. A woman toyed with by fate, and a man toyed with by a ghost.” Sissel:  “But she still died.”

He went back in time, and she still died. There’s still apparently nothing he can do, right? No, Sissel, just have a bit of patience! This is just the mechanic that lets you understand what happens before you dive in and start changing things; you’ll get your chance soon!

And once he’s finally successfully saved Lynne…

Ray:  “You used your powers to avert that woman’s fate.” Sissel: “So I did that?”

Sissel still has a moment of being surprised at the notion that he was capable of something like this.

It’s really striking to me, watching over chapter 1 again with this thought about original-timeline Sissel in mind, just how many lines to this effect there are throughout the whole thing. The writers did not need to include this many moments of Sissel being sceptical, or even any of them at all, really, in order for the tutorial to do its job as a tutorial! But they’re here anyway, because it is in fact really important to the story that Sissel is somebody who would not have tried hard enough to figure out that his powers can undo deaths unless he had someone holding his hand through it the whole way.

The way old-Missile talks about it when he’s explaining himself at the end, it’s easy to get the takeaway that the most important thing he did as Ray was to take advantage of Sissel’s supposed self-interest: by not contradicting his misconception that he’s the man in red, by telling him Lynne is the key to his mystery (a half-truth at best), and by giving him a fake time limit. And it’s not that those things didn’t help, but they’re not really the most important thing at all.

The most important thing Ray did for Sissel, the thing that Missile absolutely most needed to spend those ten years waiting to do, was exactly what it appeared to be during chapter 1: to teach him how to use his powers to save lives. Because the number one thing the Sissel from the original timeline needed but didn’t get was, quite literally, a tutorial.

There’s a little bit more to it than this, though. So, okay, Sissel in the original timeline didn’t know he had the vital time-rewinding power. But then that begs the question: why didn’t Missile just tell him that while asking for his help?

For that matter, why did Sissel leave Missile shortly after being asked for help? It can’t just be because he urgently had to go and look elsewhere for answers to his own mystery, because he’s not pressed for time here. And he was apparently chilling at the junkyard just eavesdropping on the investigators’ conversations before Missile showed up. Why the sudden shift in locations now of all times, when there’s someone here who’s actually talking to him – the first person Sissel would have been able to talk to all night – and asking him for help?

The issue here, I believe, is that this isn’t just a matter of Sissel’s lack of understanding what his powers can do. It’s also a matter of emotional state – both Sissel’s, and Missile’s. Both of them would have been incredibly stressed out and upset, Sissel due to his loss of memory and seeing deaths in front of him that he doesn’t think he can do anything about, and Missile due to his mistresses’ deaths that he also can’t do anything about, even though he has a superpower that lets him try but it just isn’t quite enough.

How would Missile and Sissel’s interaction go when they’re both so upset like this? There’s actually a fun little bite-sized example of this in the actual canon timeline. During the last desperate struggle to escape the sinking submarine…

Missile:  “Sissel! Y-Y-Y… You’re not telling Miss Lynne to leave poor Miss Kamila behind, ARE YOU?!” Sissel:  *sigh* “Could you just be quiet for a minute, Missile?”

Missile and Sissel are bound to be both extremely anxious and stressed in this situation – trapped in the submarine, Lynne and Kamila in danger of drowning if they don’t do something. And in that state of mind, it seems that Missile is prone to eschewing logic to be even more loudly desperately protective of his mistresses… while Sissel especially does not enjoy Missile being Loudly Boisterously Dog in his ear when he’s stressed out. After all, cats and dogs have very opposite and very incompatible ways of dealing with stress!

So it follows that the conversation between Sissel and Missile in the original timeline would likely have been an incoherent emotional mess, in which neither of them properly communicated their side of things at all. Missile must have just never even thought to tell Sissel that he can rewind time and therefore saving his ladies is actually possible in theory, because that was already obvious to him! He wouldn’t be capable of understanding why Sissel would be so reluctant about this.

As for why Sissel wasn’t just reluctant to help but outright ran away and sealed the deal – I think, more than anything, it’s got to be down to the fact that he couldn’t stand having Missile being so loud and energetic at him when he was this upset. Especially not while repeatedly saying that he can save them, which would be the exact thing Sissel has been miserably convinced that he just can’t. It follows that he’d just have wanted to run and hide somewhere Missile isn’t, where he can have some peace and quiet. Cats who are upset often like to hide and isolate themselves to feel safer.

There’s one other part in the game’s tutorial that suggests the problem originally might have been partly a matter of Sissel’s emotions:

Ray:  “Hello there. How are you feeling? Not very well, I imagine. A terrible tragedy, what happened tonight.” Sissel:  “………” [neutral face] Ray:  “Ah, ignoring me, are you? It’s a little too early for you to be so stiff and cold, I’d say.” Sissel:  [smiling] “Ah, so it was you. You were that voice in my head, right?”

This is very noteworthy, because Ray is the only person in the entire game who ever takes the time to ask Sissel how he’s feeling. He wouldn’t be feeling great after waking up dead, watching a woman die in front of him and failing to save her, would he?

It seems like old-Missile, with his years of wisdom and time to reflect on everything, realised that his approach to getting Sissel’s help last time really was way too focused on his own problems, and he never even stopped to think about how Sissel must have been feeling. So here, he presents himself as a friend, someone who cares about Sissel and his journey, because that’s exactly what Sissel needs! This poor kitty must have felt so lonely and sad and helpless in the original timeline. But hearing Ray’s words, and realising that this desk lamp is someone semi-familiar, does seem to cheer him up at least a little bit here! Sissel really is a character whose core desperate need is to just not be alone, even if you’d be hard-pressed to get him to admit that at the beginning.

Interestingly, way back when I first played Ghost Trick, on the DS soon after it came out, I found myself intrigued by Sissel in the original timeline. I vaguely toyed with the idea of writing a fic exploring how he was feeling and why he refused, though I never got around to actually doing so. Then recently, the game coming out in HD rekindled my hyperfixation and made me think about it some more and actually end up writing that fic after all. And the thing is, back then, I didn’t remotely consciously understand any of this stuff I’ve just explained here. But even so, I find it neat how I still had this wordless sense that what was going on with Sissel must have been so much more than just selfishness – that he must have been so sad in that timeline and that had to be the real basis of why he didn’t help.

[pawnshopbleus]

The songbird was soo good I’m a sucker for jealousy 💗 could you maybe do jealous!snow x reader 🤭 ik he’d be so broody and hot

Flickerman's Charm

Summary - Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman was charismatic and charming, not to mention pretty handsome. Women all over Panem (well, the ones with televisions) fawned over the weathercaster. He seemed harmless enough, but during the games, Lucretius gets a little too close to you and Coriolanus doesn’t like it.

Warning - Jealous Coriolanus, Cunty Draco Malfoy can do no wrong, P in V sex, Quickie in a closet, possessive Coriolanus. No contraceptives, Creampie, Coral slander (She's the 'District Four scum.' I did not like her 🤷🏿‍♀️), Mention of death, Not beta read :0

Author's Note - I AM OBSESSED WITH MAKING THE READER A PLINTH!! Anon, I hope I made you proud.

You cursed under your breath as you watched the big screen. Your tribute had been killed in the most brutal way. Your heart hurts for the poor kid. He was so young, so full of life, and now he was dead. Dead in less than twenty seconds by a group of tributes that had made an alliance. They stole his food and medicine. The food and medicine that you had begged your father for was now in the hands of some District Four scum.

With a huff, you remove yourself from your seat and sit with the other students from the Academy in the regular audience. Your classmates patted you on the back and gave their condolences as you sat there with your arms crossed. 

Your reaction was better than your brother who threw his desk in anger as he saw his tribute, Marcus. He was strung up by steel poles and left to hang by his manacles. He was alive but badly beaten, but Sejanus didn’t know that. He was gone before he could see that Marcus was still alive, but there was no saving him. He was mercifully killed by another tribute. 

His reaction was understandable. Marcus and him were boys together. They were one and the same, but the Plinths had money. They could afford to get out of there, but if they hadn't, that could have been Sejanus or you up there. That thought caused a chill to run down your spine. 

Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman had announced your tribute's death and watched you walk away. He said something witty and winked at the camera. Coriolanus subtly rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the big screen. 

It had been some time since the last death. People yawned and talked as the cameras flicked between tributes. It was quiet and dead. For the first time that night, there was no action going on. Coriolanus finally let his shoulders fall. He had been so tense throughout the entire first half of the games. At first, Lucy Grey didn’t take his advice. She was selfless and wanted to help the other tribute from her district. That would have been admirable if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation. 

Coriolanus got up from his desk and scanned the room for you. He wanted to check in on you and see if you were okay. He knew that the games were hard for you and Sejanus. You two weren’t born in the capital which made you stand out. No matter how much money you had, people would still consider you District trash. Not him though. You were so much more than your status and wealth. You were kind, funny, bright, and extremely beautiful. Coriolanus was lucky you picked him. Out of every man in the Capital, you picked him. 

Coriolanus’s eyes found you in the corner of the room. You were sitting in a chair while Flickerman leaned up against the wall. You looked up at him eagerly and ready to please. Flickerman tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and tapped your chin affectionately. To the untrained eye, these gestures might have seemed innocent, but to Coriolanus, they didn’t. 

His hands balled up into fists at his sides. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling. He didn’t blame you, of course. You could do no wrong. It was Flickerman who was in the wrong. He was so much older than you. He was taking advantage of someone younger and sweeter. 

He couldn’t believe the balls of this man. Everyone in the Capital knew that Coriolanus Snow and the daughter of Strabo Plinth were in a very committed relationship. Flickerman must have had a death wish because he patted your cheek affectionately. Coriolanus was the only one who was allowed to touch you. Coriolanus was the only one who got the pleasure of feeling your soft skin under his touch.

Before he knew it, Coriolanus was standing in front of you and Flickerman. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you out of the screening room. He didn’t care that the games were just starting to get interesting. He didn’t care that him storming out with you in his arms had just been broadcast on live television. All he cared about in this moment was you, and only you. 

He dragged you to a closet not too far from the screening room. People gave the two of you confused looks as you stumbled every few steps. 

Coriolanus pushed you into the dark closet and followed you in. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the two of you in the dark closet. The room was cold and you shuddered at the thought of what might come next. 

“Coryo, what are you-” 

You were shut up by Coriolanus' lips on yours. His lips moved in tandem with yours as the kiss got deeper and deeper. Coriolanus’s hands snaked up to the sides of your face, guiding you through the kiss. His lips were soft, contrasting the rhythm of the kiss. His body melted into yours. His hips rutted into yours as the two of you got carried away. 

Coriolanus pulled away. He softly placed his forehead on yours and looked into your half-lidded eyes. 

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, his mouth just inches away from yours. 

You smirked, “No one.” 

“Who do you belong to?” he bellowed. The people outside of the closet must have been too naive or too invested in the drama to care about Coriolanus's tone. 

“You,” you breathed as you kissed him this time. He ripped his uniform off of himself and returned to the warmth of your lips. He squeezed at the flesh of your hips, silently begging you to take off your pants. You followed his request and kicked the red pants and skirt off of you. The Academy’s uniform was very impractical during this time. 

Coriolanus' breathing was heavy from kissing you. “Are you sure you want this?” Like the gentleman he is, he asked for your consent. Even during the heated moments of passion, he wanted to let you know that you had the opportunity to say ‘no.’ 

You nodded your head but that wasn’t good enough. He bit the sensitive part of your neck, urging you to use your words. “Yes, Coryo. Fuck me.” 

And he did just that. You were already wet from the way his hips rutted into yours earlier. That simple action made your clit throb and pussy soak your two hundred-dollar panties. Coriolanus flipped you around. Your clothed chest was against the cold wall of the closet and your legs were spread, exposing your cunt to the cold air. Coriolanus circled your clit with the tip of his hard cock and smeared your slick all along his length. 

“Look at you. Already wet and I haven’t even touched you.”  That was a lie. He’s done a lot more than just touch you, but you didn’t want to correct him. 

Coriolanus slowly eased into you, letting your pussy stretch deliciously around him. He groaned in pleasure as your insides welcomed him with ease. You were made for him and only him. 

Coriolanus’s hips slapped into your ass as he began to thrust in and out of you. He couldn’t choose what to do with his hands so he decided to alternate between slapping your ass cheeks and holding onto your waist. You, on the other hand, had one hand clamped over your mouth and the other was planted on the wall. 

Coriolanus guided your hand from the wall to your clit, urging you to play with it. God, did it feel good. With his balls slapping your tender pussy, and his cock thrusting in and out of you, your clit was already begging to be played with. She was insatiable and begged to be the object that you spent the most time focusing on. You rubbed your clit from side to side, back and forth, trying to find the right angle until you found it. Your eyes fluttered close as you let out a silent moan, loving the way everything felt. Even though the closet was colder than ice, you were getting warm. Your hand rubbed your clit faster and faster as Coriolanus’s thrust matched your movements. If he kept going like that, you were going to come. The delicious thrust against your G-spot caused you to arch your back, searching for a deeper angle. 

Coriolanus moaned at the newfound angle. You were so goddamn beautiful and for a split second, he couldn’t believe that you were real. He couldn’t believe that you chose him to be your boyfriend when there were more suitable men in the Capital, but he was thankful that you chose him. So thankful that he was the only one who could feel the way your pussy spasmed as you came. Your body shook with intense pleasure and Coriolanus continued his persistent thrusts, guiding you through your orgasm. 

Coriolanus was close too. The way your pussy squeezed his cock made him double over in pleasure. His thrusts became slow and drawn out. His breathing became labored and rough as he tried to hold off his orgasm. Not too long after, he came inside of you. His cock painted your insides white. You could feel his throbbing cock release inside of you, and you nearly came again. 

He slowly eased out of you. He knew how sensitive you were after sex and he always tried to make sure that this part was as painless as possible. He grabbed your underwear from the floor and handed them to you. His come had already begun to drip down your thighs. The sight made his cock twitch. You slide your panties up your thighs and let them take their rightful place on your pussy, trapping his come inside of you. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed and ready, Coriolanus placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You did so good for me, dove. I’m sorry I was so rough earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled. “I just want to know what I did wrong.” 

Coriolanus sighed, “You did nothing wrong. It was Flickerman.” 

You were confused as to what Coriolanus was referring to. All he did was tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and oh- Was Coriolanus jealous? 

“Coryo, you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” You booped his nose affectionately which caused him to crinkle it and smile. A smile from him was rare these days. He was always so stressed about school, money, the games, or how he was going to style his hair in the mornings. 

Outside of the closet, cheers could be heard. You looked at Coriolanus in the dark closet and he opened the door. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light from the hallway. Coriolanus looked at you in the light and you looked at him. The two of you definitely looked like you two just fucked. You went to go fix your hair, but he moved your hand away from your own hair. 

“Leave it. I want them to know that I'm the only man that can fuck you."

[anadiasmount]

imagine having an argument with jude and giving him attitude all day but he’s just so patient and so during your night routine while doing skin care or smth he’s all “darling im so sorry…” blah blah blah but then lectures you in a loving way to not ignore him and instead talk your feelings out 💋

okay but why would this be me?? i will hold onto that grudge until i feel time is right 😔🤞🏻this is slightly longer, and not proofread!! but like always hope you enjoy😘

your hands are interlocked together. well… kinda. his is fully locked with yours, fingers wrapped on your knuckles as your hand is just in place and fingers spread out. he’d been begging for your attention. a small smile, tiny meep, or even a small nudge from you. but you refused to even look at him. saving whatever you had to say in you to further cause tension in the car.

“y/n?”

“don’t talk to me. you might even forget what i’ll say the second i’m done speaking…”

“i want to talk it out! i wanna communicate that with you!”

“yet you didn’t care when i did… i don’t care jude!”

you forgot what you were even arguing about. it was just now you being petty and paying back like all those times he had done to you. clearly it was affecting him as he started to send you text messages to get a reaction. once again he was met with nothing. jude frowning and looking away like you were.

he knew if he removed his hand from yours he maybe would’ve gotten something at of you, but he knew how close and attached you were so jude retreated the idea, not wanting to face an even more upset and angry y/n. if there was jude one thing hated was seeing you mad, sad, upset, anything, because of him. knowing he was the reason he hated it.

of course jude hadn’t forgot what you were arguing about. you had insisted and told him repeatedly about the brunch date you had in morning with some other friends, to take out the trash out before the next day so it wouldn’t pile up, and to simply put away the clothes he had laying around.

jude knew it was to forget about the planned brunch date, but the other stuff he found slightly immature, even though he wouldn’t ever admit that to you. it obviously wasn’t okay to you, and the tone of voice he also spoke didn’t sit right with him. he was under a lot of pressure but if he had done what he was asked at first he wouldn’t be in the position.

jude got out quickly, opening the door for you as you stepped out and walked into the house. jude was about to pay the driver when he told him you had done so already. jude thanked him, rolling his eyes once he saw the front door open and you taking your boots off and heading upstairs.

“y/n? can we talk now?” he asked sighing and covering his face with his hand. “i don’t know? are you going to remember what i’ll have to say? or is it gonna be forgotten like our plans from today? the chores i laid for you? hmm, i vote yes! so no. i don’t want to talk to you,” you say sarcastic, crossing your arms and walked off, ignoring the plead from jude.

jude huffed in his place, becoming frustrated with your attitude and side remarks. it was clear you weren’t going to let it go. so now he was faced with also ignoring you cause he was mad or let you have you’d raided space and talk it out later.

jude being the inpatient and clingy boyfriend he was, gave it an hour before going into the living room where you scrolled on your phone. he couldn’t but you did, so you got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a snack and sitting in the island. jude of course threw his hands in the air frustrated. you had to hold back the laugh paying attention to the get ready with me video on your phone.

later on when you went upstairs he followed up a few minutes after, seeing you snuggled up in your soft blanket reading a book with your glasses on. he approached you, but you then got up and walked off again on him, going downstairs and laid on the couch. jude clenched his jaw and laughed loudly. he had enough, all he wanted was to apologize and make it up to you.

he watched from afar, as your eyes kept shutting and opened again, many time before yawning and walking up the stairs again. jude had taken you silent treatment and showered, got ready for bed. not because he want to pay you back, but to finally talk with you. one thing you both agreed on was never going to sleep when either one was upset.

you had heard jude come up after setting the alarm system and ensuring everything was cleaned, locked, and lights turned off. you placed your book back on the shelf, your hair going into a messy updo as jude came to the door, bring to waters and your cup of tea. your heart warmed up, feeling bad for ignoring him the entire night when it was the only night together.

in all honesty you felt like he deserved it. it got to the point where he was clearly forgetting about you and what you said around him, feeling like a presence rather than his actual girlfriend. you didn’t want to seem like a bother but he was making you feel like one, and you hated it more than anything.

jude sat on the bathroom countertop, biting his nails as he watched you change out from your day clothes into your pjs. part of him felt like he won when you grabbed his shirt and put it on, the quickly remembered you were still mad at him. you looked down the entire time, a sad flint in your eyes as you started to take your makeup off.

he watched you rub and rub the cotton pad along your face, the water running as you used your nightly cleanser, the jiggle of the towel rack to pat your face dry. “i refuse to go to sleep knowing you’re still mad at me…” jude said making you stop brush your teeth and look up in the mirror. “okay then. all forgiven…” you shrugged, spitting out the excess hearing jude groan.

“please y/n! i’m trying to talk here. i’m being serious when i say i refuse to get on our bed, and you not even spanking a glance at me,” he said upset, getting up from the counter and over towering you. you said nothing and finished brushing your teeth.

you grabbed your last step of your skin care routine, looking up and breathing a bit deeper than before, controlling your emotions because you hated crying in front of people. “you really upset me today jude… for the first time ever i was starting to question if you ever paid attention to me or if i was being clingy…” you softly chucked.

jude immediately winced and got soft, going behind you and hugging your waist. the tight hold almost making you break down in tears before you could even speak. “i hate when you do that to me. it’s not the first time but it makes me feel like i’m not even there! i’m just a ghost or unwanted person in my own home!”

“i never ever, want to make you feel like that. especially in our home y/n! i can’t describe how incredibly sorry i am for making you feel that way. i had no idea and it’s absolutely horrible i know i know. i never wanted to make you feel uninvited or like you couldn’t say anything around me,” jude said behind your, his thumbs stroking the material of the shirt.

“i get you have a lot going on, believe me i do, but you have no right to embarrass me like that jude,” you say with eyes closed, jude nodding his head and then turning you around. “i know darling, i know. i can promise you right this second it won’t ever happen again! it was incredibly selfish and overall i hurt the person that means the world to me,” you felt his trembling hands and lips to your forehead.

“please don’t ever make me feel like that. like i have to overthink what i say, wear, think! nothing hurts more in the world then getting ignored by the person you love most,” you spoke softly, voice still laced with a tint of pain. “i understand baby. i promise i do pay attention and i do hear you,” jude spoke.

“did you really or is-”

“y/n please…”

“okay i’m sorry, i swear i’m done!” you giggle, jude bringing you impossibly closer to him. “i want you to talk to me rather than ignore me. i would rather you scream and yell angrily at how mad you are than have you say nothing to me for the whole evening,” jude said making you look up and nod, agreeing with him.

“i kid you not, i was ready to buy you the full bookstore and bring you a serenade to apologize,” he exaggerated making you laugh and look up at him once again. “not knowing how you’re feeling is the worst stress, especially cause of me… so please don’t make me go through that again…”

“don’t give me the reason too and i won’t,” you remind him, pointing your finger in his face to make things clear. jude saluted letting you know he understands and will play from the rules from now on. “okay now kiss me, because i really really really missed you today…”

“it would be my pleasure. i’m going to take you to bed first, show my beautiful girlfriend why she deserves every ounce of my attention…”

[circeyoru]

Hello you amazeing writer!! I'm here and for starters, I just wana say HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR WRITEING HDHDGDGDG

*Cough cough* Anyways...I am here to add a sprinkle of angst, cause it feeds my blood-lust /j

I remember reading a non-canon version of your "Unwanted soul" fic, where the reader gets redemed (like Sir Pantious) and at the end, they het back to hell while keeping some of the angelic fetures (like the wings) and Alastor ripped them off, ignoreing readers crys (sience now he wasn't under contract).

I was wondering...what if, after all that, reader woldn't actulay fully forget Alastor? Personaly, I really REALLY hate feeling any kind of pain, even if it's as small as a paper-cut, so what if reader gets so upset over all that that they ignore Alastor and just start feeling mode down than usual?

Other than that, I HOPE U HAVE AN AMAZIENG DAY/NIGHT!! HOPE I DIDN'T BOTHER MUCH :3

HAD A STRESSFUL DAY! BUT I'M HERE TO DESTRESS!! NO BOTHER AT ALL!! Okay, back to normal.

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}. The specific mentioned ask is this, so give them a read before this.

The angst is back. Prepare yourself, really, I mean it...

Yes. Reader/you will and do shut down after the stunt Alastor pulls. It's similar to the state you were in before your suicide on Earth. But! Alastor's keeping an eye out for everything and anything you do so you don't get the chance to plan your third death.

Needless to say, you regret coming back because Alastor was and is beyond your control. If you had his soul, you'd destroy it. Alastor knows, that's why he's not offering it anymore. He did consider it, but the way you were unresponsive to him, he trashes the idea.

You don't talk to him, you don't listen to him, you don't look at him, and you don't acknowledge him. You know, any form of reaction and attention you give him, be it good or bad, he'll take it all with gratitude, and you're not giving him that pleasure. Not what you went through because of him.

Alastor does everything to coax you into looking at him again, he knows he can't threaten you because that's what you want. If he was angered enough to kill you or attempt to do so, you win and he'll be left with nothing. No more you. He can't let that happen. He tried returning with wounds or accidentally harming himself while making your meals. No reaction.

He asks you what he did wrong, what can he do for you to at least go back to the way you were. He didn't like how you were like a doll or a broken puppet. It was so agonizing to see you like this, even worse when the reason was him. You didn't even touch the anime and books he brought for you, not even the phone, or tablet, or laptop. Nothing.

After a long long while, you made up your mind. A plan brewed. One that will give you your eternal sleep.

"I want a feast with my favourites." You spoke so softly one day. Yet Alastor heard it loud and clear, he nodded, it has been forever since he heard your voice. The last was when you were begging him not to rip off your wings and halo that took you away from him. He got to work, saying he'll be back soon and asked for your patience.

Patience. You've given him too much. Your eyes burned with fury when his presence left the apartment and your home domain. You took your blank notebooks, summoning angelic weapons one after another around your bed. The angelic steel stacked up as did your exhaustion. Your eyesight blurry and your body heavy. Just a little more and you'll sleep. The feeling was so similar to when you embraced death the first time. Then you fell asleep. Forever.

When Alastor returned, he was terrified to find you surrounded by angelic steel. His mind didn't register that you were the one to summon them, like the time you saved him all those years ago. He only rushed forward to you, ignoring all the wounds on his legs as he walked pass the deadly material. He tried shaking you awake. You're eyes didn't open, your body was cold. Heartbeat? It was so weak.

He shouted for you to wake up. He pleaded and begged. He apologized. He was wrong. He was all wrong. It was all his fault. Just wake up. Please! He needs you! He can't live without you! You can't abandon him again! Not again! Please!

Before, in the canon of my story, you woke up because Lucifer told Alastor what to do. But here, he never knew about your relationship with Lucifer, nor would Lucifer tell him how to wake you up. Lucifer watched from afar as you slowly died from your powers that drained your very soul. Saving you wasn't an option, he said he'd respect your choice and won't question them. He's keeping it, he's your friend. When you were going on with your plan, you too realized that the only true friend you had was Lucifer.

You can't handle Alastor, you shouldn't have thought you could. You shouldn't have accepted Alastor.

You shouldn't have saved him that day.

Alastor deserves to suffer while you enter your eternal slumber.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

what are your thoughts on the ministrife situation? imo literally the worst fate for eridan to be damned to tbh

i think he will eventually (after <5 minutes) just shoot cronus and leave. (CW for mentions of abuse and cronus's romantic grossness and stuff under the cut).

Ignoring the extremely creepy and gross fact that Hussie doesn't seem to have a problem with the age gap (it's There, we've acknowledged that it's creepy and weird, i personally think it highlights how immature the dancestors are despite their physical age, and it actually serves to hint at how trash they are, but it's still really uncomfortable in the moment and never gets properly called out. In any case we've talked about it critically, we can move on and talk about characterization now), he and cronus are actually kind of polar opposites. Given that Cronus, along with many of the dancestors, are riffing on what the fandom interpretation of their Alternian counterparts are, it's kind of a fascinating look at all the things Eridan ISN'T.

The fandom (especially at the time) had flattened Eridan down to "overdramatic Nice Guy hipster who won't stop hitting on people," with varying degrees of sympathy. In other words, they took all of Eridan's outward presentation - the narration calling his genuine anxiety and distress "overblown emotional theatrics," the fact that his being rejected was a running gag - entirely at face value, while also missing what sort of archetype he was actually supposed to represent.

At no point does Eridan ever actually mention a hipster interest, like vintage clothes or indie media. It's all entirely in his design and Karkat calling him a hipster (it's not even in his character introduction), so presumably, it IS a part of his character (Karkat knows him really well), but it's probably a part he keeps to himself, like his love of wizards.

Moreover, he isn't really a Nice Guy. The closest he gets is thinking Nepeta owes him a chance for saving her life, but as far as we can tell, he only ever asked her once, got rejected, accepted that rejection, and has never taken out that rejection on her. When he complains about it, he frames it as a bitter "I guess what I did wasn't enough," not "she's an unreasonable witch withholding romance from me even though I'm so nice to her." All other romance attempts are crimes of... just being way too forward.

He bursts into Kanaya's DMs demanding she auspicetisize with Vriska because... that's what she likes to do, right? The same happens to Terezi in [S] Karkat: Wake Up. He comes on strong in Rose's DMs and after getting a little annoyance back, goes "wow, we kinda have something," and does not realize her blowing up his computer is a rejection because she didn't explicitly tell him no and he's a dumbass. And even though he's nasty at Sollux because emotionally, he's still bitter about Sollux "stealing" Feferi from him, at least CONSCIOUSLY he's recognized the rejection on both fronts and has repeatedly told Feferi that he has no more interest in getting back together with her, in spite of her recognizing that he's emotionally not over her. And speaking of Feferi, his confession to her is entirely genuine and respectful toward her feelings. At no point does he indicate that he feels like she owes him a date.

These aren't Nice Guy actions, they're "I have 0 social skills or self-awareness" actions. And also a little bit "due to my trauma and anxiety and desensitization to murder, I struggle to care about other people" actions. He's not even actually casteist or genocidal - I spent an entire essay arguing that.

But regardless, that's what the fandom ran with, in large part because they didn't bother reading between the lines. Ironically, like Eridan, they just believed what he told them. I don't even necessarily blame the fandom - at least part of this obfuscation was intentional, and a clever trick on the part of the writing. By highlighting Eridan at his worst, and having the narration be complicit in his self-delusion and mockery, the story is able to put the audience in the same mindset as his in-universe bullies - Eridan is dumb weirdo whose emotional problems are worthy of ridicule, not sympathy. Let's all point and laugh!

This sets up his meltdown to be more of a twist - even though his literal introduction is him killing something and talking about genocide, the very real danger he poses is forgotten both by the audience and the other characters because they've gotten so used to dismissing his feelings that they ignore his cries for help and the warning signals he gives off. And it makes his character more relevant and meaningful, because this happens in real life all the time - I'm sure we either all either knew, or were, the friendless weirdo at school who, upon reflection, definitely had either some bad shit going on at home or severe and untreated mental illness (or both).

The reason I'm bringing up this fandom misinterpretation is because, like a couple other dancestors, Cronus is very much a riff on the fanon version of his Alternian counterpart. Unlike Eridan, who's not actually casteist, but desperately trying to act the part, Cronus IS a casteist sea dweller who thinks he's better than lowbloods and land dwellers. Unlike Eridan, who seeks emotional connections with others, and accepts rejections, Cronus is only looking for some action, and keeps trying even well after he knows he's been rejected. Unlike Eridan, who's so consumed by anxiety and trauma that he's pretty much unable to function properly, Cronus DOES exaggerate his problems and explicitly leverage them for attention and sympathy. And unlike Eridan, who feels crushed under the weight of duty and responsibility, and tends to blame himself when things go wrong, Cronus refuses to take responsibility for anything, immediately blaming anybody BUT himself.

They're practically exact opposites, and this is, again, a clever trick on the part of the writing. It's an excellent usage of a foil: though superficially similar, the differences between these two really serves to highlight just how much Eridan is NOT the things that Cronus IS.

And it's especially interesting given that Eridan spent his entire life trying to emulate Dualscar, to the point of modeling his outfit after the guy. To him, it was not only his duty, but his inevitable fate, to wind up as Dualscar's successor. And when he finally meets the guy in person, his opinion is "even I think you're trash."

If that isn't a form of rejecting the values his society has told him repeatedly that he has to uphold, maybe in the service of perhaps setting up some sort of redemption arc or something, I don't know what is.

I've seen people point to this moment as kind of a hee haw funny one-off joke, look at how little Hussie cares about Eridan, but that's not what it is to me. You don't really need to say anything more about their relationship to each other. Eridan thinks Cronus (and by extension, everything Cronus stands for - and everything Eridan has tried to be) is garbage, but is lonely and friendless and desperate enough that he feels pushed into accepting it anyway. It's extremely consistent with his characterization and character arc.

So uh, yeah. Join me next time for more deep dives on how this funny innocuous thing in Homestuck actually Means Something.

[steddio]

Eddie can’t listen to music anymore. God knows he wants to, would give anything to lose himself in a particularly intense guitar riff, or bang on the steering wheel of his van like it’s a drum kit, or just generally annoy those in his vicinity by refusing to turn down “that noise” (as his neighbors call it). Music was his life, his sanctuary, his whole reason for being on this stupid, fucked up planet.

But now, music makes him jumpy, panicky. Hands clenched into fists, the back of his neck prickling. He can’t help but look for the threat, for the reason music is being played. Eddie finds himself sitting in silence now, when before he couldn’t stand it. His bedroom eerily quiet, cassettes shoved in a shoebox, stereo covered with an old t-shirt. He drives with the windows down, radio off, listening only to the mundane sounds of small town Indiana.

He can’t even play guitar. Three days after he woke up covered in bandages, head aching, Wayne had brought Eddie his sweetheart, mumbling something about not wanting Eddie to be bored in the hospital. Eddie had tried to play, he really had. But just touching the strings sent him back into that life-or-death mindset, and suddenly his mouth felt like it was filled with blood and he couldn’t breathe, and the nurse had to rush in and help him release his death grip on the guitar, take deep breaths, count to ten.

After, he threw the provided pamphlets about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in the trash and tried to convince himself he didn’t really need to play guitar anymore. As Dustin is so fond of reminding him, he already lived the most metal moment of all time, embodied it, played for the lives of everyone he loves, for Chrissy’s death, for Hawkins’s survival. His sweetheart helped save the world, and now it’s enough that she’s only decoration in their new government payout trailer. It has to be enough, because he can barely look at her, can’t touch her without shaking, without almost throwing up.

His friends must notice. They must, because he’s been avoiding band practice, hasn’t scheduled any D&D sessions, staying far away from everything that used to bring him joy because it doesn’t. Not anymore. And sometimes he wishes they would say something, that anyone would acknowledge this 180 degree shift in Eddie’s entire being. But Jeff and Gareth are giving him space, letting him heal. And the kids are kids, dealing with their own trauma and shit. So it’s just Eddie and the silence.

—

Eddie is listlessly staring at his bedroom wall, actively trying to think about nothing, when he hears a car horn honking. He ignores it, sure that it’s irrelevant to him. The horn honks again. Then a third, fourth, fifth time, followed by, “Munson, dude, I know you’re in there!”

And what the fuck. Because Eddie knows that voice, and there’s absolutely no reason for Steve Harrington of all people to be outside his trailer. They’re not even friends! They’re just… trauma bonded. Or whatever. Maybe Eddie should have read those pamphlets.

He peeks his head out the window to see Steve shading his eyes with one hand, the other on his hip. Eddie waggles his fingers in a hesitant wave, even more surprised when Steve’s face breaks out into a grin.

“There you are, buddy! Come on, let’s go!”

Eddie begrudgingly grabs his jacket, swinging it on as he slams the door of the trailer behind him.

“Um, dude, what’s up?”

Steve only waggles his eyebrows in response. “You’ll see, but c’mon, we’re running late.”

Eddie slides into the front seat of Steve’s BMW, eyes glancing to the radio, which is blasting some Top 40 station that not only sounds like nails on a chalkboard but is already making Eddie uneasy. Steve hops in the drivers seat and, as if he can read Eddie’s mind, turns the radio off before pulling out of the trailer park.

The ride is quiet, but comfortable. Steve has the windows down, it’s a breezy summer day, and Eddie feels something underneath the listlessness that has infiltrated his brain like cobwebs. Anticipation, maybe even excitement.

Steve pulls into the Wheelers’ driveway, and Eddie follows him inside the house, down to the basement, where Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will have set up their D&D table, Will at the head wearing… is that a wizard hat?

“Welcome back from banishment, Eddie!” Dustin shouts as soon as he sees him, smiling widely. And Eddie can’t help but smile back. Because these are his kids, and he missed them, and he really did feel banished even if it was somewhat self-imposed.

Four hours later, after part one of a thrilling campaign led by Will (who really is a promising DM, Eddie has to admit), he no longer feels like that. He’s glowing, breathless, warm. The feeling buoys him through the car ride home, Steve having left and then returned to drive Eddie back. And if that good feeling allows Eddie to glance a little too long at Steve’s hair blowing in the wind, his left hand loosely resting on the steering wheel and his right on his thigh, then that’s Eddie’s business and no one else’s.

They fall into a routine. Steve picks Eddie up, drives him to the Wheelers’ house for an afternoon of D&D, and drives him home. Eddie tries not to be too obvious in his appreciation of Steve in the summer sun but he’s just a man, okay, and Steve didn’t earn his reputation for nothing.

Every time, Eddie offers to drive himself, but Steve just laughs, shakes his head. “Get in the car, Munson.”

And every time Eddie does, Steve turns the radio off. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge it, but their car rides are blissfully quiet. Light and easy in a way that silences aren’t when he’s alone.

—

It’s pouring rain one afternoon, rattling the roof of the trailer. Eddie is contemplating whether he can get away with smoking out his bedroom window when he hears a familiar car horn. As he approaches the car, Eddie hears what can’t be, but what is unmistakably the sound of Steve… singing? Softly, almost under his breath, Steve is singing along to the radio. He cuts off when he sees Eddie, offering a half wave and a lopsided grin. As Eddie slides into the front seat, Steve turns the radio off.

“Hey why do you do that, man?” The question slips out before Eddie can stop himself.

“Do what?” Steve looks confused.

“Turn the radio off. When I get in the car.” Now that he’s asked, Eddie finds that he needs to know. Why of all possible people, it’s Steve who’s been the most accommodating.

Steve shrugs, puts the car into drive, turns onto the main road before answering. “It bothers you,” he says simply.

Eddie must look confused when Steve glances over because he continues. “I never see you listen to music anymore. I figured it must bother you. And hey man, if anyone understands fucked up reactions it’s me. I can’t hear fireworks or see Christmas lights anymore.”

Eddie barely manages to nod his thanks, to present a facade of normalcy while his mind is racing a million miles an hour. He knows that Steve has been through some shit, clearly he had even before Eddie walked headfirst into whatever the fuck is going on in Hawkins. But he never expected Steve to be so… observant. Not of him at least.

The D&D session takes his mind off the mortifying knowledge that Steve is paying attention to him. They’re approaching Will’s grand finale, and Eddie is caught off guard by how normal it feels. To be excited about a campaign, to mess around with the kids. To laugh, unironically.

The ride home is tenser than usual but as they pull into the trailer park, Eddie musters the courage to reach out. To touch Steve’s arm and mumble a quiet but sincere “thank you.” He doesn’t stay to see if Steve responds, but the pads of his fingers burn where they met Steve’s bare forearm, and he falls asleep that night with the ghost of a pop song in his head.

—

A week later, Eddie finds himself in the backseat of Steve’s car, his usual shotgun seat occupied by Robin. In situations like these, it’s hard not to feel left out, like a third wheel. Steve and Robin orbit around each other in a way that Eddie never has with anyone. But their jubilance is addictive and Eddie can’t help but be drawn in. A lone planet in their binary star system.

They’re telling some inside joke, something about Muppets, and Steve is glowing in the way he only ever does with Robin or Dustin, beaming like a carefree teenager instead of gazing sadly out of eyes that look too old for his face. Eddie is breathless, finds himself laughing along, eyes glued to Steve’s mouth (his smile, not his lips, Eddie lies to himself). Robin launches into song and there’s a moment when Steve joins in, and it’s ridiculous but possibly the most glorious thing Eddie has ever heard because it’s music. It’s music and it makes him feel safe.

After a blissful few seconds, Steve cuts off, as if catching himself, turns to meet Eddie’s eyes, face halfway between joy and panic. Robin doesn’t seem to notice, and Steve has one hand up as if to stop her before Eddie shakes his head slowly, starts to smile. Steve’s face begins to relax again, one eyebrow raising in question.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie mouths.

Steve turns back to Robin, picking up the thread of their foolish imitation. And maybe Eddie is still lying to himself because is this really music? But he thinks it might be the most beautiful sound regardless.

They drop Robin off at home and Eddie climbs up to the front seat, winking at Steve’s feigned outrage about “the leather, dude!” Steve backs out of Robin’s driveway, gets halfway down the block before he pulls over.

“Hey I’m sorry about earlier,” he starts softly. “I got carried away. I hope—. Well. I hope you’re okay, man. I know music bothers you.”

Eddie feels a blush rising at this ridiculous, lovely man and his concern. Steve is looking at Eddie, brow furrowed, assessing every minute detail of his face as if searching for evidence of injury. Eddie wants to reach out and smooth it with a touch, to make Steve laugh again in that carefree way. He settles for reaching out in a different way, laying a piece of himself bare.

“It doesn’t. Bother me, that is. Not when it’s you.”

The silence that follows is expectant, Steve’s expression hard to read. They’ve been on the precipice of something for weeks now, and Eddie has stepped off the ledge. But as always, Steve is there to catch him. His grin is lopsided, eyes warm, as he sings softly,

“But I know, uh-huh, that you're sad. And I know I'll make you happy with the one thing that you never had, baby I'm your man.”

And Eddie has half a second to think Wham!? Really? before they’re kissing. They’re kissing in the front seat of Steve’s car and Eddie has the sudden, embarrassing, wondrous urge to turn the radio on. So he does.

[rin-fukuroi]

Hello! Could I request Dan Heng with an s/o who enjoys cooking and baking for the express (e.g. Himeko always get fancy cakes alongside her coffee, March gets super cute donuts, and even Pom Pom gets rabbit-shaped crackers, etc) but she always makes something extra special for Dan Heng?

Hi!

I was a little late, but I was glad to write this sweet request for you. I may have deviated a little from what you asked for, but I hope you'll like it ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞! [𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Dan Heng x fem!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

God, I always feel like I'm so bad at writing fluff, but for some reason I keep doing it. In any case, even in a pool of debauchery and yandere, sometimes there must be something sweet, right? ( ´ ꒳ ` )

As soon as you had a few free hours, the carriages of the Astral Express were filled with the captivating aroma of a wide variety of pastries.

Once you received a pleasant compliment from Himeko, when you couldn't stand the disgusting taste of her coffee anymore and made chocolate cookies for it to save your taste buds a little, when she kindly offered to treat you to it again, you decided that it would be nice to pamper the other Nameless with something delicious. First, a batch of donuts for March 7, then air pancakes for Pom-Pom, and there was not far for a whole cake to thank Mr. Welt after he helped you out on one of the missions.

It's always so nice for you to see your friends' faces stretch into smiles as soon as your sweet pastries touch their tongues. But there was one person you always wanted to do something special for.…

Dan Heng always refused when others suggested that he try something from your cooking. Although it might seem from the outside that he doesn't like sweets or even disdains to eat food cooked by you (it's so hard to understand his real feelings when his face literally doesn't express any emotions), but in fact he just didn't think that he deserved to try something that wasn't prepared for him. No, no, don't think that he is so arrogant that he can only eat what is made especially for him. Rather, it is another manifestation of his modesty, which he hardly ever admits to.

But you never took offense at it, as if you caught the direction of his thoughts. To cook for him separately the same thing that you cook for other passengers on the Atral Express would be quite simple, however… It's Dan Heng.

Probably, the more you tried to hide your feelings towards him, the more your attitude towards Dan Heng looked like you were simply avoiding him. It's so childish, but there's nothing you can do about how you get nervous in his presence, funny stumbling over words or even uttering complete nonsense, making the rest of your friends feel awkward.

And it should have stopped today.

You'll have the courage, you'll do it. You're going to take a step that should put an end to this annoying awkwardness between you.

You've been up all night knowing that none of you have anything to do today, which means you'll have plenty of time to pursue your newfound hobby. What would he like? Cookies, waffles, maybe candy? Tossing and turning in your bed all night, you still haven't come to full agreement with yourself, but what does it even matter? As a kind of artist, inspiration should guide you in the right direction, so you decided.

March 7 and Caelus looked anxiously at your concentrated figure, which has been diligently trying to cook something in the kitchen for several hours, every time they passed by and heard your dissatisfied grumbling, but they collectively decided to just leave you alone with yourself and your creative process.

Batch after batch of failed pastries were sent to the trash (although they could hardly be called unsuccessful, but there is no limit to perfection). You desperately tried to achieve the perfect balance of taste and appearance of your cooking, but failed time after time, until finally you grunted, looking at another result of your hard efforts, deciding that now it seems you are relatively satisfied.

You nervously shift from one foot to the other, standing at the door behind which Dan Heng's room is located. Your heart literally jumps in your chest until you decide to knock, but then you take a deep breath, taking in more air into your lungs, before finally hesitantly hitting your friend's door with your knuckles twice softly.

— Dan Heng, it's me!

— Come in, — you hear a quiet, indifferent voice on the other side and exhale, slowly opening the door.

— Just so you know, «it's me» doesn't give me any information about who's standing behind the door.

You roll your eyes.

— But you recognized my voice, didn't you?

— Lucky for you.

You move closer to Dan Heng, who is sitting on the bed with a book, ignoring his displeased grumbling.

That's all.

An awkward silence hangs between you, and the man finally looks up from his book, looking up at you.

— Did you want something?

«So, you have to say it confidently… Pull yourself together, it's just Dan Heng…»

You take a deep breath again, closing your eyes, as if trying to concentrate before the fight, causing an even greater misunderstanding of what is happening in the sitting man.

— Cupcake! — you abruptly hand to Dan Heng the most perfect cupcake you've got. A cupcake is neatly wrapped with a small piece of parchment, and on top is a cap of mint cream, framed with a sprinkle of yellow tiny moons.

«Oh shit, that's not what I wanted to say at all!»

Dan Heng just stares at the pastry in your hand for a few seconds before looking up at you with a puzzled look.

— A cupcake?

— C-cupcake… — your outstretched hand begins to tremble. — This is… This is for you! I made it for you.

«God, why are you such a fool?»

Dan Heng's turquoise eyes narrow in disbelief before he accepts your gift anyway, carefully leaving it on the shelf above his head.

— Thanks.

— You're not going to eat it? — you pout, twisting the fingers of your hands behind your back.

— Later, — Dan Heng replied shortly before returning back to reading his book.

You wanted to say something hurtful to him before you left, absolutely furious at his stoically indifferent behavior, but you just snort, throwing a short «you're welcome» before leaving his room.

Dan Heng looks up at the door, noticing how it closes after your figure has left his field of vision. The man sighs, putting down the book before taking your gift from the shelf. The cupcake looks literally perfect, and Dan Heng just twirls it in his hand, looking at it from all sides.

— And you really want me to eat this? — the corners of the man's lips lift slightly as he chuckles softly to himself before taking a small bite of dessert.

Although at first glance it might seem that the cupcake is very sweet, there is a slight sourness in it, which balances the taste and doesn't make the sweetness cloying. The cream is so airy that it literally melts on the tongue of Dan Heng, and the little moons of glaze crunch pleasantly in your mouth.

— Delicious…

[madwomansapologist]

Could I request a one shot where Karlach, Rolan, and Zevlor finding out that human Tav is surprisingly similar to them despite being quite different?

For Karlach, she's outgoing & boisterous while Tav is shy & quiet. But Tav told Karlach she appreciates her kindness considering what she has went through as she can understand how hard it is & to remain hopeful even during the darkest times since Tav needs to be the one leading them & stay strong for all of them. She also mentioned she has a similar problem that she's touch starved but her family isn't so she never got to hug or kiss her family so she offered to squeeze Karlach as hard as she can while hugging her.

For Rolan, he's prickly & harsh while she's polite & soft spoken. Tav told Rolan she can understand why he's so protective of his siblings because Tav lost her family when she was too young to save them from her burning home. She also understands how it feels to not be good enough so she keeps trying to help to be as useful as she can to others to compensate her flaws & weaknesses although she does want to help people.

For Zevlor, he's stern & intimidating while Tav looks harmless & approachable. She told Zevlor that she's in a similar position as she never wanted to be a leader as she never thought she's meant to be one but she admits it was her decision & it didn't help that she felt that it's best she leads because she's the only one who would make such choices & they unexpectedly listened to her despite her inexperience. Unlike him where he didn't have much of a choice due to having experience. She also understands wanting a quiet life without judgement as she was discriminated by her fellow humans but life doesn't work that way.

so different, and yet so similar

Navigation | More Tiefs4Life | AO3

synopsis: Don't matter how different you're from them, there is still little things that connect you two. Kindred spirits, even if it doesn't look like.

warnings: nothing.

note: thanks for your request, hope you like it! maybe it's because english is not my first language but i think the expression "touch starved" is so pathetic. please stop creating new nouns, focus on pronouns because y'all have such a little ammount of them 🙏🥺

Karlach

For Karlach, you where so put together. Everything was in the right place, every movement was the one you needed, every word had a purpose. You led the party with caution, always aware of the dangers lurking by.

No music would ever matter without a listener. What is dancer without a watcher? A book is just paper until someone reads it. Some people need to performe, and some people need to observe. And while Karlach burns brighter than the sun, you watch the sparks flying.

So completely different. In situations Karlach yells, you shut. While she runs, you stand still. When people talk, you are way more comfortable just listening. And still, you both are so similar.

Karlach knows how fierceless you can become to make sure your party will keep on enduring. She sees how, even when you have doubts and fears, you shut them down so you can lead. You are strong, and when you're not you pretend to.

So timid, yet so loudly brave. Karlach likes all those sides of you.

Upon learning about how cold your family was, a certain grief took over her heart. She always thought nobility had good, easy lifes. And it's mostly true. She just wished it was yours and Wyll's case too. She would rather you both acting superior than knowing how young you two were when your families discarded you like trash.

"You just wait, soldier. I gonna hug you so fucking hard your bones will turn into dust."

Rolan

You're one prone to whisper. That was the very first thing about you Rolan hated. What a mask you chose for yourself. To always pretend to be sweet, polite, caring. To always be the fucking hero.

And that made things even harder for him after Cal and Lia were captured. You chose to ignore his snark comments, try to stop him from drinking, to say you're sorry. It made Rolan look like he was wrong. Like he was the Big Bad Tiefling turning the Sweet Adventure's life into hell.

And yet, you didn't use that against him. You never did. All you wanted was for him to stop being so angry at himself. To not treat himself as if he was weak, or less deserving of being alive.

You told him about your family. About how you lost them. "That's what fault looks like," you told him. "You did nothing wrong."

You have really high standarts to think you did something wrong. To think you had to carry not only the burden of grief but of despair. You save people. Constantly. Even when they don't want you to save them. Even when it costs too much for you. If you're not good enough, who is?

It was way harder to hate you after that.

"Oh, shut up. As if you were nothing but perfect."

Zevlor

Everyday there was a moment when you were sure that was it, you were about to go crazy. Looks like you were always trying to stop someone from ending up dead. No eternal darkness for you, no suicide mission also, you can kill your enslaver but that's it, don't fall for your urges, please don't try to kill someone while they're sleeping.

For Zevlor, it was alluring. You, so sweet and caring, leading some of the most troubled people he ever meet. He wasn't sure how you got yourself into that position, but he was glad you did. You saved his kin, after all.

He wasn't expecting for you to defend him at the ilithid colony. If you knew everything he did, or what he didn't, than you were the best person to judge him. You're leading you group through darkness, all of you still alive, so why couldn't he?

Instead of judging, you accept him. You told Zevlor he did his best. That you more than anyone knew how tempting it was to stop fighting. That you more than anyone knew how tempting it was to surrender.

"You should've hate me. You should've want me dead. Another debt I never will be able to pay you for."

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