#this brush set is something else let me tell you

[waywardangel-wilds]

Inspired by this post by @littlemarianah and this post by @mellarked-katnisseverdeen :

Katniss propped up her father’s frameless shaving mirror, watching herself in the setting sunlight as she anxiously rearranged her hair. She brushed her fingers down the front of her dress. It was ironed, clean, and never before mended. It was the nicest piece of clothing she owned. Was it alright? She turned herself to profile in the mirror. Would he like it?

“Birdie, what are you puttering around in there for?” Her father hobbled towards the bathrooms doorway. His bad leg usually gave him a harder time on rainy evenings, like the one they were having. “My,” he paused to smile, “aren’t you a pretty picture?”

She smiled. “Oh daddy, don’t tell me you forgot already.” She reached over to put the mirror away. “You promised you’d be on your best behaviour.”

“For what?” He asked, but his slight smile gave him away. Katniss rolled her eyes while she straightened the collar of his shirt. “I’m just joking, ‘course I didn’t forget. What are you messing with my shirt for? He's not coming to see me!” He laughed.

“This is important to me,” She met her father’s smiling eyes with her own nervous gaze. “I want him to like it here. I want you to like him.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled at his daughter’s stricken expression. “Don’t give me that pout! I just want to know if he’s good enough to be on your arm, is all.”

“Daddy,” Katniss shook her head. She glanced out the window at the sun. He’d be by soon. “I need to finish getting ready!”

“You’re beautiful already, birdie. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” He was laughing as she pushed him out of the bathroom. “Alright! Alright! I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Please don’t let mama say anything embarrassing!” She begged before she shut the door in his face.

“You heard that? Your daughter thinks we’ve no self control,” he snickered into the kitchen where his wife offered him an amused tweak of the brow. “You’d think the boy was the prince of Panem or something.”

“Hm, I think it’s sweet.” His wife replied, lifting the lid of the stew she’d been working on for the better part of the evening. “Young love, remember it?”

“You’re calling me old?” He pulled her into the circle of his arms. “These Everdeen women sure are difficult to impress.”

“Spruce,” she shook her head. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me with this food, huh? Your daughter put a lot of work into tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He walked over to their makeshift ice box. “I promise to keep the commentary to a minimum.”

“Mama! If Katniss marries the baker do we get free cakes forever?” Prim little head stuck into the house from where she sat on the front steps. “Cause that’d be really neat!”

“Primrose Everdeen!” She said around a laugh. “Don’t you have to get dressed for dinner?”

“He’s not marrying me,” the girl replied sullenly as she shuffled towards the bedroom.

“No one’s marrying anyone!” Spruce called out. “In fact, what does anyone need boys for?”

“You’re a boy daddy,” Prim replied.

“Now that’s an entirely different thing,” he replied. “I’m your father. That makes me better than the rest.”

“Mmhm,” his wife replied sarcastically. “Taste this?” She placed the spoon before his lips.

“Sour,” he coughed. “What have you been doing over there?”

“Well you could fix it if you know so much,” she handed him the spoon. “I could use a rest, you know. It takes a lot to look like this.” She fluffed her hair.

“Yes, I noticed. You look lovely, dear.” She smacked his shoulder. “I mean it!”

“Uh huh,” she replied.

“Mama! Could I borrow your lipstick?” Katniss’s voice came from the bathroom still. “Is it in your room?”

“Yes, darling.” His wife replied, shooting him an amused look. “In the drawer!”

They didn't hear anything else before they saw her zoom by to the bedroom, her hair trailing behind her like a river of molasses.

“Don’t sprain something now!” He called after her. “This kid better be the best thing since sliced bread. I don’t remember you putting this much work into making me happy.”

“Hush,” his wife tried to peek into the bedroom before the door shut behind their daughter’s back. “She’s nervous enough as it is.”

A thudding noise from beyond the closed door caught their attention. “Hey!” Prim yelled.

“Oh no, now they’re fighting.” She patted his arm. “I’m going in there.”

“You have my thoughts and prayers,” he replied sarcastically. She didn’t spare that a response, but she smiled, so that was a win.

He set about fixing the stew, adding some extra water to try and counteract the excess vinegar. He was cutting up some wild onion when a tentative knock befell the open door.

"Ah, there he is," He glanced towards the doorway with a friendly expression. "The man of the hour."

At the threshold, a shy-looking eighteen-year-old boy peeked halfway into the house. He smiled self-consciously. "Good evening, Mr. Everdeen."

"Mr. Everdeen? That was my father. You’ll call me Spruce. Come in! What are you doing hanging out in the rain?" He waved him over. "Do you know much about cooking?"

"The basics, I think." He shrugged good-naturedly, taking a moment to wipe his feet on the cheerful mat his wife had laid out there ages ago. He walked in strangling some unfortunate daisies. "These are for Katniss."

"We've got a vase somewhere," He ducked to check the cupboard, his back protesting the whole time. "Here we are. One chipped jug, close enough." He smiled over his shoulder. "It's Peeta, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Peeta accepted the old milk jug and went to fill it at the sink. He quirked a brow at that. "Uh, Mr. Spruce, sorry."

"Whatever floats your boat." He accepted, "Is that for us?" He looked at the covered dish in the boy's other hand.

"Yes, of course!" He awkwardly set it down on the counter as his hands were full. Spruce was starting to feel bad for the kid, he'd never seen anyone so nervous. "Katniss loves the bakery's cheese buns so I figured it might be nice to bring some."

"That she does. Do you think she'd mind if I took one?" He asked cheekily, removing the dish's lid.

Peeta smiled. "Maybe a little."

"I think I'll risk it," He took a big bite out of a nice warm bun. He nodded in approval, "This is good."

Peeta's smile widened, "thank you, Mr. Spruce."

"You're here!" They turned towards the sound of his daughter's voice. She stood in the doorway to the bedroom, looking as lovely as she'd been since the day she was born, but this time she had a light touch of lipstick on her cheeks. "You met my dad."

Peeta nodded, "I did." He started blushing. "I-uh, brought you these." He extended the flowers in her direction, which she leaped across the room to accept. "You look beautiful."

Katniss glanced over her shoulder self-consciously. Spruce averted his eyes to give her some privacy. "Thank you," she said with a voice as sweet as honey. "You look nice too."

Peeta's face took on a love-dazed look and Spruce shook his head. Oh man, that's why his mother had constantly made fun of him back in the day.

He turned his back on the kids. Might as well spare them the extra embarrassment. "We're having a big dinner tonight. Katniss caught all this game all by herself." He returned to the stew, "Right, birdie?"

"Yep," the awkwardness seemed to be a common denominator. "You brought me cheese buns?"

"Yeah, I know how much you like them," Peeta replied with an awkward little chuckle.

"Thank you, I do-- like them, I mean. Yeah." Katniss spoke haltingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Oh!” His wife finally made it out of the bedroom. “Prim, come say hello!" She called back into the bedroom. "Peeta! How are you? Did the rain give you a hard time?"

"No, no, not at all, I'm great" Peeta replied. "Thank you for inviting me over tonight. You have a lovely home, Mrs. Everdeen."

"Thank you, and it's no trouble at all. We've been curious about you." She walked towards the table with Prim following close behind, a curious look to her. "And please, you don't have to call me that, Lily is fine."

"Lily," Peeta repeated with a smile.

"So since you're the baker and all, do we get freebies when you marry my sister?" Prim challenged.

"Prim!" Katniss chastised. “You don’t have to answer that. We’re not even engaged Prim.”

"And I'm not the baker. I just work there." Peeta answered with an amused smile. "My dad's the baker but I can still make you anything you'd like."

"You don't have to," Katniss said.

"Great! My birthday's coming up." Prim went on shamelessly. She pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat down. "Could you make it a heart-shaped cake? Oh! And cover it in pink frosting?"

Lily put a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, meanwhile, Katniss looked mortified. Spruce tsked, joining his youngest daughter at the table. “Don’t scare him off, you’ll cost us our in at the bakery!”

“Daddy,” Katniss complained. She picked up her boyfriend’s hand and tugged him towards the table. “They’re just joking. They do that a lot.”

“I really wouldn’t mind making it though,” Peeta smiled gregariously. “It’s not every day you get an order for a pink and heart-shaped cake. It sounds like fun.”

“In that case, could it be tiered too?” Prim interjected.

“That’s enough, Prim. Don’t disrespect.” Lily said. To Peeta she added, “has Katniss offered you something to drink?”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry I forgot. Do you want some water?” Katniss smiled her embarrassment.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Peeta and her seemed to have some sort of secret conversation which resulted in Katniss laughing.

“Should we eat?” Spruce stood. “I can serve the stew.”

“I’ll get the bowls,” Lily readily added. Once they were a sufficiently far away from the children she stage-whispered, “what do you think?”

“I think we’ve got ourselves a problem.”

“A problem? What do you mean? He seems perfectly nice to me.”

“No, he is. Problem is we’re gonna lose our kid.” He peaked over his shoulder. The kids were all seated at the table and having a normal conversation. “This looks permanent.”

Lily’s face grew sentimental. “We weren’t that much older when we got married.” She bit her lip. “ironic, huh?”

“How’d you mean?”

“You and me, town and seam. I chose the coal miner over the baker. Now, our daughter and her boyfriend, still town and seam, but she’s choosing the baker. It’s almost by design.”

“You’re reading too much into it,” he said. “What we should be worried about is how this affects me and the actual baker. First his girl and now his son? I can't go back there.”

“Spruce,” Lily laughed. "You and your jokes. Would it kill you to take this seriously?"

"Yes, it would." He grinned shamelessly. "But you knew that when you married me."

"You're terrible." She handed him a bowl. "Hurry up."

"So demanding," he shook his head. "This is cripple abuse."

"Cripple," Lily snorted.

"Thank you," Peeta smiled winningly as Lily deposited his bowl in front of him.

"So Peeta," Spruce interlaced his fingers. Time to look serious. "If you're not going to be the baker, what will you do? I'm assuming one of your brothers is the next baker, right?"

"Dad," Katniss complained.

"It's an important question." Spruce leaned forward slightly on his forearms. "Peeta?"

"That's right, Mr., Uh, Spruce, I'm not the next baker." Peeta managed to maintain eye contact with him. Good. "I'm apprenticing at the justice building for the rest of the year. My mother's side of the family has connections there."

"Interesting. What will you be doing?" Spruce cocked his head. "It pays?"

"Dad," Katniss groaned. "You know I'm sitting right here right?"

He put up a placating hand, "Peeta?"

"It pays," the boy nodded. "It should be enough, for um, multiple people." He blushed then.

"Please, I could probably provide enough for all of us." Katniss rolled her eyes and muttered. "Talking about me like a goat up for auction."

Spruce stared hard at them both for a long moment. Peeta looked like he was sweating. Katniss looked like she wanted him to keel over. He nodded. "Alright."

"Alright?" Katniss asked derisively.

"I'm giving you my blessing, birdie. Don't spend it all in one place." He smiled as Katniss gave in and softened. "That's my girl."

Part 2

[sincerelybubbles]

i've noticed you

pairing: spencer reid x profiler!reader

warnings: fluff, not proof read (as is the usual oops), slightly slightly suggestive

word count: 2.6k

it's a late night in the office. dim light casts shadows across the bull pen. you squint your tired eyes to focus them on the document in your hand. hours have passed since everyone else went home but you stayed behind. something about pushing into the early hours of the weekend to finish off a long week is better for your mental health than leaving the documents for monday. the totality of closing the folder, marking it complete, and filing it away allows you to push the details of your cases to the back of your mind. you can't forget them entirely, of course, and nightmares still haunt you, but this is the best system you've found to make yourself feel better, even if only marginally.

a call of your name, soft and familiar, startles you. you jump, chair pushing back a few inches. you look up to see spencer standing in the doorway, giving you a confused look. his bag is strapped across his chest, hands clutching it, eyebrows raised. he's dressed more casually than you're used to: a plain blue shirt, khaki pants, his usual dress shoes. his hair is messy and his eyes look sleepy behind the confusion, like he'd only just woken up.

"hey, reid," you say, catching a yawn in the middle of saying his name. "you scared me."

"i could say the same to you. what are you doing here at," he checks his watch, flicking his wrist to right it in a movement that has your chest tightening. "3:46 in the morning on a saturday?"

"i could say the same to you," you mimic him, sending him a wide smile. you lift up your documents when he sends you an unamused look, waving the folder. "just finishing up before the weekend."

"you have over two weeks to have those reports filed, though?"

"helps me sleep better to have them done, i guess. you never answered me, though -- why are you here?"

"ironically, to help myself sleep," spencer answers, crossing the room in swift, long strides to reach his desk behind yours. he deposits his bag and turns to you, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. "i get nightmares and sometimes the best thing to do is try to get some work done. helps my conscious, i guess. or, at least keeps me busy."

you nod and watch him make his way to the kitchen. "that makes sense."

"i'll be back," he calls to you over his shoulder.

you hear his return a few minutes later, eyes trained on your file again. you don't look up this time, now that you know who it is. you're too focused on finishing these last few documents and fully aware that it's sort of hard to stop looking at spencer once you start.

the gentle click of a mug hitting your desk grabs your attention, though, and you tear your eyes from the page to look up.

spencer is leaning across your desk, nudging a yellow mug toward you, smiling widely. your throat tightens, a quick flash of pleasant awareness of him, and you swallow it away.

"what's this?" you ask, reaching for the mug. he doesn't let go as you expected and your fingers brush against each other. he shrugs instead of answering, leaning back against the desk next to yours and taking a sip from his own mug.

"coffee."

you take a sip, surprised to find it made exactly how you like. you can't remember ever telling him what you like and your cheeks heat at the gesture. you're grateful that the only lamp on is yours, hiding the heat from him.

"how'd you know how i like it?" you ask, taking a sip.

"i pay attention," he says, eyes trained on yours.

"to people's coffee preferences?"

"to yours, sure."

before you can properly allow that to sink into your exhausted mind, spencer sets his mug on your desk before grabbing his own files. "mind if i join you?" he asks, dragging the nearest chair over. "at least until you go home for the night."

"yeah, sure, i could use the company," you say, clearing space for him.

||||

5:53 AM

you: [attached image]

you: i promise i'm on the way, just having the worst morning. once i get this tire fixed, i'll let you know

you sigh, throwing your phone in your bag and squatting down to examine your blown tire. you don't know what you hit but you do know it's the start to an already sour morning.

you slept with your window propped open, despite how many times you've seen that go poorly for victims, and it rained, drenching your curtains. you didn't get to pack a lunch after dealing with that and usually, you eat breakfast at the office, so now you're on the side of the wet road, blown tire, and late for the first time in years.

your phone buzzes twice and you stand to dig it out of your bag.

5:55 AM

morgan: bad morning, pretty girl?

hotchner: don't worry about it, stay safe.

you roll your eyes at morgan, chest feeling lighter at hotch's reply. you hadn't expected him to be angry, this wasn't something anyone could foresee, but his answer still lessens the anxiety in your chest.

you climb into your car, turning on the heat and holding your hands to the vent for a few moments. you sit there for a few minutes past when you've thawed, dreading reentering the wet morning to change the tire.

the sound of a car door opening and shutting grabs your attention and you look in the rearview to see spencer walking toward you, hitting the button to lock one of the company vans. he's holding a bag in his hands, walking briskly to avoid getting too wet in the morning mist.

you throw open the passenger door when he gets close enough and watch as he folds himself in the car, shutting the door and adjusting his jacket.

"hello," you say, amused, "fancy seeing you here. did hotch send you?"

"i volunteered, here." he hands you the bag. you look at him for a moment longer, watching as he fixes his hair. you return your focus to the bag when he looks over at you, embarrassed to be caught.

you find one of the kitchen muffins and a banana in the bag. you stare at it for a moment, fully aware that this is exactly what you eat most mornings at work.

"i know you usually eat at work and didn't know if you had anything here," spencer explains.

"you noticed that?"

"i noticed you," he says. your eyes snap up to meet his, heart fluttering in your chest. he doesn't look embarrassed, eyes meeting yours steadily.

you struggle to find words, heart beyond touched by the gesture. you end up muttering, "thank you, spencer."

"you're welcome." there's a moment's pause while you come to terms with the fact that this can no longer be considered one of your worst mornings. "also, there was betting about if you could change a tire."

"ah, so you're here because you didn't believe in me?"

"well," he says, cheeky, smiling over at you. "you are just sitting in your car, decidedly not changing your tire."

"i was working myself up to it!" you say in defense. it's insane to you how quickly he has shifted your mood in just a few minutes.

he shakes his head at you, smiling slightly, and pops his door open, "open the back," he says, stepping out.

you do as he says, opening the trunk and getting out after him.

"i really was going to do it, you don't have to," you say, following him around the back of the car and watching him shift the things around to find your spare tire.

"i got it. go sit in the car, it's cold." he rolls his sleeves up, sending you a look.

you watch his hands as he moves the fabric up, exposing his forearms. you swallow, mouth dry, as he moves to the other arm, wrists flexing and bringing his veins into focus.

"i'm not sitting in my car while you do all the work," you refute, voice wavering, tearing your eyes away from his hands. you feel like a silly schoolgirl, ogling at her crush. or, better yet, like a scandalized victorian man seeing a hint of ankle for the first time, entranced by the barest hint of innocent skin. still, under the heat of embarrassment, you can't stop yourself from shifting your weight from foot to foot watching him lift the tire from your trunk.

"why not?" he asks, carrying the donut under one arm and walking over to the flat tire. you watch him, entranced, as he crouches down to examine the flat.

"it feels wrong! really, spence," you say, walking over to him and leaning down to catch his forearm and get his attention. "you don't have to change it for me, i'm more than capable."

"i know," he says, turning to look up at you from under his lashes. he smiles, still just a hint at the corner of his lips, and nods toward the car. "still, go sit, it's cold."

"spence-" you start and he rolls his eyes, standing up so he can look down at you and crossing his arms.

he says your name lowly, leaning back against the car and raising an eyebrow. "get in the car, this will only take me a minute."

he doesn't wait for your answer, pushing himself off of the car and walking to the trunk to grab the tool kit. stunned and slightly turned on, you slowly walk back to the drivers side of the car.

"good, now eat, too," he calls.

you grab the bag of food when you sit down, letting your legs hang down outside of the car. he stands up straighter to see you over the hood of the car and grins at you, "thank you."

||||

hands sweating and heart racing, you press the button on the elevator and watch the door close. you clutch the little bag between two of your hands, rolling your head back to stretch it and stare at the ceiling.

you're a profiler, you know people, you know that your ever-growing crush on spencer is reciprocated. his face as he said "i noticed you" is the last thing you see before you sleep and you know you aren't misinterpreting the signs. still, anxiety pools when the elevator dings and you step off.

you roll out your shoulders and step into the bull pen with confidence you have to fake, putting a smile on your face and holding the little bag behind your back slightly.

"morning angel," penelope calls to you, swinging around the corner and linking her arm with yours. "did you have any fun hot dates this weekend? please say yes, i am in desperate need of someone to live vicariously through -- my love life is dry in all definitions of the word."

"sorry love," you say, patting her arm and sending her a sympathetic look. "still working on that plan i mentioned a few weeks ago."

"wait," she says, suddenly stopping and forcing you to as well. "really? because you were all gung-ho about maintaining a sense of workplace appropriate behavior and all of that other blah hr speak."

"well," you say with a shrug, smiling at the ground, "i don't know, can't a girl change her mind?"

"she most certainly can. in fact, i have right now!" you look up at her suddenly ultra cheerful voice and see spencer walking into the room, hands in his pockets and heading right for you with a smile as a greeting. "i have decided that i'm not walking you to your desk and we'll chat over lunch instead. bye!"

just as quickly as she arrived, penelope left, scampering away to her office with a grin stretching across her face. she's your best friend, the one person you tell everything, and also the source of your greatest annoyance, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"what was that about?" spencer asks, reaching you and stopping only half a step away.

"just garcia being garcia," you say, shrugging.

"well, goodmorning," spencer says, tucking his chin down to look at you better. "have a good weekend?"

"i did," you say, swallowing in a deep breath to steel your nerves. "i actually managed to go to that bookstore you told me about."

"oh really?" spencer asks, excitement animating his face. "did you talk to the store owner? she's super cool, i actually learned a lot from her about book binding last time i visited. she has a little workshop in the back."

"i did, actually. i had to get her help finding a specific book," you say, holding the bag out to him.

"oh, which one?"

"open it and see."

"it's for me?" spencer asks, looking genuinely caught off-guard. he takes the bag slowly, as if expecting you to rip it away. you nod encouragingly and he takes the cue to lift the paper out of the bag and then the book. "wait, no way. this is so cool! i've been searching for it for ages."

you watch as he opens the book and his eyes widen finding it signed. he slowly, reverently, flips the pages to look at the publication date and his eyes flick to meet yours.

"this is a first edition?"

"yeah."

"this is- how did you know?"

"i noticed you, too," you say, voice soft and hesitant. you take the half step forward so your toes are touching. surprisingly, your anxiety is nowhere to be found as you look up at him, smiling, chest warm and fingertips tingling. "i hope that's okay."

"beyond, actually," spencer answers, voice softer. the hand holding the bag and book falls, his other one lifting to your cheek, hesitant. he brushes his fingers across your cheekbone gently before moving his hand to cup the back of your neck and bringing you in for a hug. .

it's exactly how you expected hugging spencer to be, warm and all-consuming. he laughs, gentle, a vibration you can feel through his chest and into yours.

"what?" you ask, face buried in his chest.

"it's amazing how hard i'm fighting to not kiss you right now. i always thought i would be too nervous - i mean, obviously, i've kissed people before. not that that's what i should be talking about right now, but, i just mean, it's different with you. you make me happy in a way that makes me nervous, you know?"

"i know," you say, softly, cutting off his rambling with a hidden smile. he's still holding you in the empty hallway and you would love nothing more than to hear his rambling but you're also very aware that someone could walk in any moment.

you just hope that whatever this is leads to more of his thoughtless rambles - you've missed them, noticed how he's held himself back more, and you think nothing will make you happier than being the person he turns to with them.

"yeah. um, thank you. but now i'm not nervous, i'm just annoyed we're at work."

you laugh, pushing away from him, fixing his tie. "we have plenty of time, it's okay."

he doesn't say anything, his hand still on the back of your neck. instead, he slowly leans down to press his lips to your forehead. it's gentle, as if he's afraid the wrong move will break you or send you running, and you melt from it.

"plenty."

part two of it's a date will come soon!! i hope!!!! please take this as a peace offering <3 i got the idea of spencer changing a tire on my head and could NOT LET IT GO !!!! like i'm ngl, i made myself blush w this so i hope u all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

also also!! i usually like to keep my notes short but this is a reminder that my asks/inbox are always open!! and i read every reblog and comment and smile and giggle like a little kid when i see them. you all make my day every day and ily u all

[cinnabeat]

nothing feels worse than being hungry in the middle of the night but you just brushed your teeth so you cant eat

[yuwuta]

AFTERGLOW. — JJK BOYS + JEALOUSY

❝tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when i've lost my mind  

featuring. gojo, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu

content. a character study in jealousy, no content warnings, no smut in this version, fem reader

word count. 2.8k

SATORU GOJO You’re attempting to finish getting ready for the evening and Satoru has taken his favorite activity: filing through every crevice of your room like he’d been hired as a private investigator. Even though he knows that you know that he’s nothing more than a nosy idiot, Satoru claims that it’s an important and intimate routine that he should know the ins and outs of your living space just as well as you know his—“You know exactly where I keep my boxers, and I don’t even think I’ve seen the inside of your closet—oh, hey, this is cute,” he grins, sticking out his impossibly long arm to shake a thin, lacy bodysuit on a hanger, “How come you’ve never shown me this, huh? Maybe you should wear this instead, it seems easier to take—ouch.”

He groans at the impact of your hairbrush against his shoulder, then swiftly proceeds to pout and whine about how mean you are to him when you return to ignoring him in favor of applying the final touches to your makeup. Your closet seems to be of little interest to him after that, as Satoru crosses the room to hover around you at your vanity instead. He leans in too closely, as if watching you apply bronzer was a novel sight to him. You flip your brush quickly, barely tapping at his nose and laughing at his scrunched reaction.

“Your reflexes aren’t so sharp today,” you tease. You’re prepared for a witty response, and when you glance, there’s a familiar mischief shimmering in your boyfriend’s eyes; but, then his gaze ventures slightly past you, and all signs of playfulness drain from his face. Instead of getting revenge, or annoying you further, Satoru reaches over your body and into a shallow jewelry dish to pick up the bracelet he’d spotted. It’s a dainty little thing, thin gold with a small heart in the middle glittering with shiny stones, that he threads along his fingers with scrutiny before standing up straight to dangle it in front his face for further inspection, “This is new to me.”

Perhaps you’d spoken too soon, because only Satoru would spot that one piece of jewelry amongst the others swimming the tray. His eyes flutter between the bracelet and you, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head, and the accusation he won’t say outloud—did you buy yourself heart-shaped jewelry, or is there something else going on here?

You sigh and keep your expression and voice neutral, your attention seemingly still focused on the finishing touches of your makeup, “It’s new to you because I haven’t worn it in years,” you tell him, “My ex gave it to me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you occupy yourself with your mascara, before Satoru speaks, “That makes sense, it doesn’t look all that promising. What is it—barely gold plated?” he taunts, sweeping away his air of concern with one of mockery, standing up straight to twirl the bracelet around his index finger, “Figures your ex boy toy had no taste for the finer things in life. You’re worth more than this, my darling.”

You shake your head with light laughter, patting in the remnants of your setting spray before standing. Satoru continues on, rambling about the poor construction of your commercially produced bracelet—holds it between his index finger and thumb like it’ll poison him if he exposes it to too much of his skin, and you can’t help but smile as you reach for the lapel of his blazer to pull him down for a kiss. He has no words of objection to this, pulling you in by the waist for another and another and another, before you finally pull away, “Come, let’s go. I don’t feel like getting lectured by Utahime for your tardiness again.”

You’re too preoccupied for the rest of the evening to notice the item missing from your jewelry dish. What you do notice, two afternoons later, shortly after Satoru has left to pick up Nanami from the airport, is a blue velvet box with your name written in pretty, gold cursive along the top—and inside, a gold tennis bracelet, glittering with diamonds, with a necklace to match. You have no doubt they’re legitimate, if not for the way the sparkle, then by the text that rings through on your phone after you question Satoru:

from: satoruwu 🫧🩵 — only the best for my baby <33

TOGE INUMAKI

Toge knows that the price of coffee has gotten way out of hand, but what bothers him more is the decreasing pace of said coffee getting made and the increase of crazy, caffeine addicted people who feel the need to be loud around him while he’s waiting for his drinks. You, however, seem to take pleasure in his suffering, as you always thank him and coo, saying he looks cute despite his grumbly demeanor, “You always look like you fought a war for two cups of coffee, Toge.” 

He rolls his eyes as he steps into your apartment, not minding the sound of your giggling behind him. He sets the drinks on your island, and pulls out a stool to sit on. You round the marble, reaching him just as he’s pulled down his mask for a thank you kiss to his cheek. He wants to make you suffer for longer, but when you lean against him, he can’t help but to return the hug and kiss your forehead—you’re welcome, always.

Still, he pokes at your head, waits until you dig your head out of his shoulder with curious eyes, before he points to the Keurig sitting in the corner of one the wall-mounted counters, and moves his hands to sign, “Why keep that if you spend all my money on coffee?”

“Rude. I offer to pay all the time,” you chide, poking at his collar bone and standing straight. You make your way back to the opposite side of the counter, and reach to a drawer to fetch a straw, before shrugging, “My ex left it here when we broke up. I keep it for the aesthetic—I’m not even sure if it works.”

A myriad of thoughts runs through Toge’s mind—most importantly: had your ex left other things here, and how quickly could he get rid of them?

“Besides,” you break his murderous train of thought, “None of the pods make good espresso. Couldn’t even make my hot girl latte if it worked.”

“Your ‘hot girl latte’ is iced,” Toge signs.

Under normal circumstances, a comment like that would earn him a flick to the forehead, but you can tell that behind the sarcasm, Toge is actually upset. So, in lieu of teasing him, you walk back over to him; settling yourself behind his stool to give him a back hug. You lean your cheek against his shoulder and press a small kiss there, “You’re cute.” 

Toge huffs, shaking his shoulders for dramatic effect. You laugh, leaning up to give him another kiss on the cheek. “You’re cute and you have nothing to worry about. It’s an old coffee machine.” 

He hums, taking another sip of his coffee before turning, barely bumping the top of your forehead, so you can see his raised eyebrow. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, “You’re cute, and you have nothing to worry about, and I love you.” 

He finally smiles again, content, and grants you another kiss to your forehead. With his mood back to normal, the two of you finish your coffee and carry on with your scheduled study session as normal (normal being Toge leaving you alone for all of twenty-seven minutes, before he starts taking videos of you with various outrages Snapchat filters on).

However, the following day when you return from your classes, there’s four new items on your kitchen counter: a silver espresso machine, a reusable Starbucks cup (already filled with your usual drink), a neatly folded apron decorated with cartoon Shiba Inus, and a small card with Toge’s bubbly handwriting on it: “Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for you $6 pink drinks, but if you wanted to thank me by making coffee in just the apron, then I wouldn’t complain ;)”

KENTO NANAMI Kento is a rational man; he favors using logic to carry out decisive actions, rather than letting his emotions get the best of him. So, the rational part of him knows that it’s not a big deal that the lunch bag and bento-style tupperware you bring to work was a gift from your ex-girlfriend; but there’s a small, ugly, green part of him overrun with jealousy and another bitter-tasting feeling he can’t quite name.

Because it’s not that important. It makes sense that you keep using them—the lunch bag is nice, leather, sleek, and insulated, and the tupperware is sturdy and functional. The whole system is sustainable, practical. It was a good present, one that objectively serves a good purpose whether or not it was given by an ex or not.

Maybe that’s what he hates so much. That this person still has room in your life, even though you haven’t spoken to them since you’ve met him. Kento doesn’t like that reminder—that there are people out there who might be a good fit for you, a better one than him. Those ugly feelings aside, there’s a sour taste in his mouth when he packs your lunch now; knowing that the food he cooked for the two of you—the meal you’re both going to indulge in—sits in a container gifted to you by an ex-lover.

Irrational to the point of being unfocused, he doesn’t realize how close the glass is to the edge of the counter, and when he turns to scoop more rice, he accidentally knocks it over with his elbow. It breaks into tiny pieces on the ground, the small portion of rice and chicken spilling onto the ground. The sound draws you out of your bedroom, mascara wand in hand and robe still on to call for him, “Kento? Everything okay?”

“I… it was an accident,” he explains, setting the spoon down in favor of reaching for a napkin, dropping to his knee with a light sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it.”

Your laughter surprises him, prompts him to look up at you with broken glass shards pooled in his palm, “You don’t have to worry so much! It happens, we have a million more.”

There’s something about the way you don’t seem to acknowledge it being special to you in any way—Kento’s not even sure if you recognize what broke—that reassures him. Because it really was an accident, but Kento doesn’t mind that he managed to break this particular plate. 

When he shoos you back to getting dressed, he finishes picking up the broken glass shards. There’s a certain lightness to his actions now, petty as it may be, he’s happy. Spends extra time writing a note for you to see when you unpack your food before he retires to the bathroom to start getting ready himself. 

Maybe he could do something about that lunchbox next. You don’t seem to mind.

YUUTA OKKOTSU Thursdays are Yuuta’s favorite day of the week because on Thursdays, you two meet up at your spot, which is really just a set of twin benches in the west quad, but it’s your place and Yuuta loves it. You will have reserved a study room in your favorite library, and Yuuta will buy snacks for your study session before you both head to the library in an attempt to finish up your work for the week in order to keep your Friday evenings free.

Yuuta usually gets to the bench before you, a combination of the engineering building being a little bit closer, and his legs being a lot longer. He doesn’t mind waiting for you, as it’s usually his first time seeing you in two days (your Tuesdays are too packed for anything other than a shared coffee break between lectures, and Wednesdays are his hell days), and spotting you through the crowd of dissipating students always brings a smile to his face.

You look cute today, an oversized sweater enveloping your frame that Yuuta can imagine you cozying into and nearly dozing off in your dreaded microbiology lecture. He laughs to himself at the mental image, just as you stop in front of him to ponder, “Something funny?”

Yuuta shakes his head, leaning down to kiss your forehead with a proper greeting. “Nothing,” he reassures you, reaching around to pull your backpack off of your shoulders, and slings it over one of his, “You look cute. Did you mean to buy a sweater big enough to double as a blanket?”

“The oversized look is in,” you scrunch your nose and roll your eyes, letting Yuuta take your hand in his despite his teasing, “I don’t even think I bought this, honestly. It might be Todo’s? Or Toge’s—it might even be Maki’s at this point.”

Yuuta freezes. He feels the world stop and a million different emotions surge through him at once, but the most prevalent of them all is something ugly and green. He could deal with Toge, though he doubts he’s the culprit. While you two shared a penchant for oversized clothing, Toge was more often than not the thief, rather than the lender, and he’s pretty good at keeping his collection of stolen goods under lock and key. Maki was out of the question, too, because you shared a class with Nobara earlier today, and there’s no way you’d have made it out of there wearing her girlfriend’s sweater.

So it probably was Todo’s. And Yuuta had said you looked cute. Though he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, his moment of self-pity is waning, and overcast by something steely, something too-hot bubbling in his chest. The question of why you have it goes over his head—he’s not concerned with that, nor will he fault you for it—the matter at hand is that you’re wearing it. And, sure, Yuuta thought you looked good in it before, but he could name sixteen other things you’d look better in at this very moment.

You’ve gone on to ramble about something that happened earlier, but Yuuta’s not listening. He drops your hand first, then both of your backpacks on the bench behind him, before tapping at your wrists. You don’t seem to understand him, cocking your head to the side with a pensive expression, but Yuuta only taps at your wrists again with a simple command, “Up.”

It doesn’t seem like you understand, but you follow anyway, and Yuuta is pulling the sweater up and off of your body before you can question him. He tosses it onto the bench with little care, then removes his white jacket and places it atop your backpacks. “What are—” you don’t have time to finish before he’s pulled his own hoodie off his body, and slid it over your head.

Yuuta smooths out the fabric under his palms with a satisfied grin on his face. Much better.

“Aw, Yuuta!” you bring a hand to tug at the strings of the hood, a wicked smile replacing your dazed blinking, “I didn’t know you were so possessive.”

You tease him until he’s red up to his ears, embarrassed and borderline bashful, a complete 180 from the looming jealousy that took over him moments before as he shimmies on his jacket again and picks up your back backs. He huffs, as you tease him, circling an arm around his as you begin to walk to the student center. He doesn’t know if he agrees with your declarations of him being a possessive boyfriend, but he does know that he’s your boyfriend, and your boyfriend only.

“So, you think I look cute, still?” you question, picking up a pack of gummy worms. Yuuta lets out a breath of laughter, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “Even cuter than before.”

(Two days later, Todo can be found screaming wildly to Itadori when he comes across a familiar hoodie strewn across a random bench on campus—who considers visiting the Student Health Clinic to make sure an eardrum wasn’t ruptured—because, “Bro, what the hell? I swear I fucking lost this thing!”)

[tojirights]

Prompt “❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜” with alastor :3

Likke reader has been with multiple people but alastor is the first person to make her cum 0.0

prompt: Hii I really like your work! Can you do face sitting with alastor like reader mentions that she wants to sit on alastor face to angel and alastor overhears or angels says outlook to husk while his wasted thank youu

a/n: combining these two prompts!! ^ thinking maybe alastor overhears you talking with angel about your woes and offers to uhhh assist 👀

"the guys down here suck, angel." you sigh, sitting next to angel in the hotel lounge. you crack open your beer and hand him one as well. "yer tellin' me, babe." he chuckles. "whats got ya worked up this tIme?" he hums, reaching an arm around your shoulders. "thats the thing! nothing!" you groan, leaning into his body. "you know how many times i've tried hooking up with someone just for them to bust in 30 seconds and rub my inner thigh?" angel almost chokes on his drink.

"they're the worst. no one down here has been able to make me cum but myself." you mutter, taking a sip of your drink. "who do you want, hm?" angel asks. "maybe i can hook ya up with someone good." he wiggles his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you. the alcohol is making you feel a little brave, so with a sigh, you let your words free. "y'know who i think about all the time?" angel's eyes widen with interest, anticipation building.

"alastor..." you admit for the first time out loud. angel does choke on his drink this time before he laughs. "bitch! the radio demon?!" he barely contains his cackle. "stop! i mean, have you seen him? god, angel. i'd get down on my knees and bark if he told me to. i wanna sit on his face, hold onto his antlers for support. ughh, he's so hot." you whine into angel's chest, embarrasmemt finally setting in. angel tries to contain himself, but you've never said something so out of pocket but also very relatable.

unbeknownst to you, alastor stands not far behind you, his ears twitching as he listens in. a part of him does feel a tinge of guilt for listening, but you'd be quieter if you didn't want anyone to hear you. "well now, isn't that interesting?" alastor's voice makes you jump, almost tossing your beer straight onto angel. "oh fuck..." angel all but pushes you over in an attempt to get away.

"oh my god. alastor i'm so sorry, i was just-" you scramble to defend yourself, but alastor puts his staff under your chin to raise your eyes to his. "what was that you said about wanting to... sit on my face? about these worthless little demons not knowing how to treat a woman?" the sultry tone in his voice has you clenching your thighs together, which you blame on the alcohol swirling in your gut. you laugh awkwardly, trying to brush this off as alastor teasing you but there's a look in his eyes that tells you he's dead serious. "it's nothing! just venting some frustrations, that's all."

your eyes are a dead giveaway, desire flooding them as you peer up at alastor. "why don't you accompany me to my room for the evening, darling? we wouldn't want these inexperienced fools to try and make a move now, would we?" he extends his hand, and you decide to throw caution to the wind. standing, you let him pull you close. "blow my mind, radio boy." you whisper, watching alastor's eyes darken and his smirk grow. alastor uses the shadows, leading you straight to his room in a mere moment.

your heart rate sky rockets, realization hitting your gut as you start to strip. "how long has it been?" he asks, picking you up with ease and carrying you to the bed. "w-what?" you hesistate, watching as alastor ushers you to climb on top of him. "since someone else made you cum?" you swallow, straddling his chest. "i don't even remember al..." alastor's hands come around to grip your ass and pull you forward. with a gasp, you brace yourself on the headboard and then the feeling of alastor's tongue immediately has your brain turning to mush.

it's dizzying, the slide of his tongue up and down your slit was already far better than anything you've experienced in such a long time. "o-oh fuck." your body shudders, barely being able to hold still. alastor's tongue dips passed your entrance, lapping up your juices like a man starving. you already feel that familiar coil in your stomach forming, threatening to snap all over alastor's face. "that's, oh god alastor, that's so good." you moan, gripping tighter on the headboard as your hips start to stutter on their own.

then, you feel alastor's hands on your ass start to push and pull you, forcing your cunt to slide over his tongue. "y-you, i'm gonna-" you can't even think straight, pleasure blinding you to anything else happening in the entire world. alastor hums against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth and that's it, you're cumming hard enough that your vision goes dark and tears well in your eyes.

you're shaking, barely being able to breathe as alastor's tongue runs lazy circles over your still sensitive clit to ride out your orgasm. before you're fully recovered, alastor quickly flips you onto your back and his fingers find your puffy pussy. "you have no idea the honor it is to be the only one to see you like this, my dear. the only one to feel you-" he pauses, pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt so he can hear your sweet moans. "cum. and i will be the only one to continue feeling that. you will cum on my face, my fingers, my cock... anything you please."

the desire burning in your core strengthens once more. not even your own fingers have ever made you cum twice, but alastor is about to pull a second orgasm from you almost completely back to back. "make me cum again." you whine, hips arching further off the bed as his fingers pump in and out slowly. "on your cock, fuck, please fuck me alastor."

alastor chuckles, his free hand unbottoning the front of his pants just enough to free his cock. "how could i deny such a good girl? cum on my cock, my princess." in an instant, alastor's fingers are replaced by the thickness of his cock. the first thrust alone has you teetering on the edge, while his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.

your pussy clenches around his girth, pulsing with every sweep of his finger. each thrust of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, his cock filling you like no one else could ever. "y-you, gonna cum again." you cry out, spasms wrecking your body as your second orgasm hits even more intense with the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy.

alastlor groans, pumping his cock deeper, deeper until he's cumming as well. "such a good girl." he grunts, pushing each thick rope of cum further inside. "you won't ever have to worry about not being taken care of, my dear." he assures, pulling out slowly even as your cunt tries to squeeze him in. "there's plenty more where that came from, rest your pretty little eyes." he coos, pulling a blanket on your tired body.

you just know this is going to be the best sleep pf your fucking life...

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Imagine telling op guys who has a crush on you, that you want to sleep with them. You just plop down next to them cuddle into them and fall asleep. It's just hem turning red and trying to calm down their thoughts

hehe, this is legit so cute. (tweaked the prompt to be a little more suggestive than just thoughts in the end.)

not a dream ft. the monster trio!

set-up: as anon asked! you happened to utter five simple words, "can i sleep with you?" to the op boys (who have a crush crush on you). now these idiots are contemplating if they'd make it out alive.

warnings: includes nsfw thoughts!! no actual things happen but the guys are thinking very very perverted shit, so, if not comfortable please skip!!!

luffy:

💗 you know luffy. do you think luffy— the guy who clings to everyone, doesn't know the word "personal" and "space", who will probably hug you even if you threatened to punch him— will really mind if you told him you wanted to sleep with him? fuck no. even if you stood in front of him with a "i like you, i wanna sleep with you" in a suggestive way, he would say something along the lines of "awh, i like you too. let's sleep."

💗 but well, this was different. cause he liked you. so when you decided to show up at his door after dinner with a cranky look, he was both confused and intrigued. "what's wrong with ya?" the captain mumbled as you sat next to him on the bed. "chopper and ussop. ugghhh." you groaned, "they're doing some stupid shit next door and making so much noise. there is no possible way i can sleep there. and im sure nobody else will let me crash with them tonight in their room." luffy would have probably leapt up and gone to join the other two fools had you not sprawled out next to him. you gave him a tired smile, "so, can i sleep with you?" 💗you hadn't even waited for an answer. mindlessly, you draped a hand over his torso and snuggled into his chest. he pulled you towards himself on instinct. this was normal. yeah. hugging a crewate. yeah. totally normal. atleast for him. then why was his heart beating so fast? mouth going dry? why was sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back although he knew the night air was frigid? 💗you shifted and your chest brushed against his. luffy swallowed wantonly as you shifted again. and then one more time. trying to find the most comfortable position, he guessed. mechanically, you pushed yourself further against him. and this motherfucker went as stiff as a washboard. "luffy?" you mumbled against his skin before tracing your eyes upward. from this position, your doe-eyes bore into his, "you don't mind right? it's just really cold, sorry." how could he mind? your soft body was against his. your fingers drummed faint melodies against his back and your hair smelled like some floral scented shampoo. every time you breathed out, the warm air caressed him and goosebumps painted his hands. he felt your peaked chest brush against his again and he almost swallowed his own tongue. "luffy?" you asked again, your voice saccharine. and he vaguely wondered how would the same voice sound if he tore open that flimsy top your were wearing and held your soft skin against his palm. or if he took the courage enough to dip his fingers below the waistband of your pajamas and felt you up. would you say his name like that? 💗 well, fuck. this was the captain had thought so much in his entire life. and they were thoughts about feeling up his crewmate's tits. and, as a result of such vigorous thinking, a problem had arose in his pants. he tried to think it away. tried thinking about sea-kings or hideous devil-fruit users. of alvida. or anyone else. he even tried to think of food so that his attention could be diverted. but even the most tastiest of sanji's pudding couldn't take away the throbbing in his cock. and the delicious feeling of your soft skin next to his. as a last resort, he prayed that you wouldn't shift more and feel his dick against you. he prayed you would take his silence as rejection and simply drift off to sleep. but ofcourse, this is a godless land. because you moved again. and when you felt his hard-on against your thigh, you looked up at him. lips caught between your teeth, blinking up at him almost innocently, you asked, "got a problem, captain?" before he could answer, you pressed forward, "i think i can fix it." on the other side of the ship nami burst into chopper and ussop's room. when she yelled, it probably could be heard over the entire ship, "LET US SLEEP, YOU MORONS. WE HAVE A LONG DAY TOMORROW. GO SLEEP OR I'LL FINE YOU BOTH A MILLION BERRIES PER MINUTE THAT YOU'RE UP." you're not sure if it was chopper or ussop crying in the distance. but oh well, you have a captain to please 🤭

zoro:

💚zoro's not even fucking sure how he ended up like this. he's sure it involved some higher-than-tolerable level of alcohol for both the parties involved. and he's sure it must have been your idea that he had drunkenly complied with. "let's sleep together" "okay" what was he thinking? because right now, you were sprawled against his chest. both of you were on his bed. his shirt was off, yours was barely on. a bit of drool peaked out from the corner of your lips. and he found himself quietly rubbing it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly to himself. ew?! was he still drunk?? as the realization set in, he pulled his hands back in wicked horror and looked around as if someone had seen him. it was still night, and in the middle of the night, the effects of the cheap booze must have wore off of him and he awoke to you as his bed. 💚"hey." he tried to shake you awake but you just groaned, sinking further into him. he hissed when you buried your face against his bare skin. he whisper-shouted, ignoring the goosebumps on both of your skins, "wake up. go back to your own room, woman." but you didn't shift an inch. instead, you stayed buried against him. he groaned but when his eyes fell back to your face, he couldn't help but fight off the impending blush that crawled up his face. your hair was a mess and your cheek was squished against his chest. you breathed softly and sometimes, your fingers twitched against his skin and you touched him fleetingly. and you were warm. too warm for his liking. he tried to look away but his hand carefully came up to your face. staying there not a moment too long, he dragged it downwards. over your shoulders and over your back. he stopped before he went too far and grabbed your ass, the curve so delicious in his eyes. but he stopped, pulling his hands back to lay on the linen sheets. he was a horny man, not an evil douche. 💚but you must have been hell-bent in proving flaws in his moral-code, because you shifted and your pelvis shifted over his. he bit back a grunt at the movement over the fabric. you were so cozy against him. the way you brushed up against him, the way your hair tickled him. would you like it if he pulled your hair? would you moan? god, what would you sound if you moaned out his name? he was a bad man. thinking all of those things. and he tried to focus on anything but the blood-rush to his dick, really, but the way you started moving against him, almost mechanically. god. that made all attempts to ignore his boner disappear. his hips moved upwards and he closed his eyes, giving into the friction of you against him. soft moans fell from his lips, hips still moving upwards to graze your clothed thighs. 💚"zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eye. you strained your neck up and he looked down at you, dazed. "you okay, zo?" when he found himself unable to talk and you found a harsh roll of hips under you, you connected the dots. a playful smile tugged on your lips, "need some help?" "no." the swordsman swallowed thickly. "fine." you shrugged, clamoring off him. your hips swayed as you made a futile attempt to find your discarded shorts somewhere in the room. you gave him a lingering look, "i should go back to my room. the crew will freak out if they find us like this." "no." he caught your wrist, tugging you towards him, "stay. i could use some help." 💚in the morning, sanji walked into the swordman's room to see if the moron could find you somewhere since you were nowhere to be found on the ship. what he found, instead, was you and the mosshead tangled in his sheets. when you and zoro had finally made it to the breakfast table, sanji may/may not have been crying. luffy, ussop and chopper were laughing in the background. nami decided it was a good enough reason to even high-five zoro. it was an awkward breakfast.

sanji:

💙sanji was probably in heaven. yes, that's the only explanation. sure, the ship was en route to alabasta but he was on his way to heaven. because there's no way you had come seeking him out in the middle of the night. you had said, "i can't sleep." "oh?" the cook had wordlessly stepped aside and you took on the opportunity to slip in. he shut the door behind you, "can i help you then, love? want me to cook something?" "i would have really not bothered you but i don't know who else to ask. nami and vivi are sleeping together and the bed's not big for the three of us." you rambled, "and zoro probably showered five months ago. and luffy, ussop and chopper are passed out in the common room. so... can i sleep with you?" it's a miracle he didn't pass out on hearing those words. it's an even bigger miracle that that was three hours ago and he had still not passed out. now, sanji lay next to you— as stiff as a corpse— while you snored. your body shifted and your hands reached out towards sanji. your palm ran up and down his torso as to check if he was there. and once you had gotten a confirmation, you scooted in his direction and sanji held his breath as if one wayward puff of air will wake you up. 💙vinsmoke sanji was trying. he was trying o maintain his composure, to not pull you into his chest. he was trying not to think about the way your chest will feel against his, the way his fingers will glide over your thighs, the way your hand will fit around his dic— and it was as if you could hear his wretched thoughts. because your hands moved over his torso. gliding up and down. you leaned into his touch, molding your body against his. you might have been having an interesting dream cause he saw your hips gently rocking, your thighs pressed harder and you eyes clenched shut. you buried your head into his chest and the smell of your shampoo seemed to turn him on more. he ignored his weeping dick, decided to pay it no mind. but all of that resolve crumbled when he heard you moan his name into the fabric across his chest. your nails dug into his shoulders and your nose buried as deeply as it could against his skin. 💙 he gently guided his fingers to your thighs. and you shook under his soft touches. his thumb softly brushed over your clothed pussy and bucked towards his hand. he could probably just feel you up and you'd let him— "—shit." sanji quickly brought his hand back, realizing that you were sleeping and out of it. even if your lips chanted his name, he couldn't do the things his mind was convincing him to do. because if he started, he wouldn't stop. 💙so, to get himself rid of such sinful thoughts, he decided to hide in the shower and pump at his hard cock till he was tired. till you crawled out of his head. till your voice stopped ringing in his ears, making his cock impossibly harder. he slowly pushed you away, trying to climb off the bed. but as soon as you felt his warmth disappear, you cracked open an eye, "sanji?" "uh" his face went red, eyes averting, "just going to the washroom. i'd be back." you sat up, "did i go too far?" sanji's mouth hung agape as you pulled him back into bed, "i thought you wanted me to moan your name like that—" "—wh-what?" "i had a dream." you innocently traced your index nail down his torso and brushed it over his sleeping shorts, "think you can help me?" you blinked up at him, "pretty please." 💙 the next morning, the cook of the crew made the worst breakfast possible. wasn't his fault. all he could think about was you and your breathless moans and your eyes as— "this tastes like shit." the swordman argued. "thEN MAKE IT YOURSELF, FREELOADER." "might as well if you're gonna cook so bad." "—i think it tastes fine." nami sighed, "if i knew you getting some would make you a terrible cook, i would have let (yn) sleep with me and vivi." and the entire ship choked on their (terrible) breakfast.

a/n: i tweaked the prompt a bit (as i was getting stuck with the original ask), but i hope this was good enough anon!! as always, thanks for reading and send in req that you might have <3 (tagging: @bokutosbiceps cause i know you love luffy)

[landosjpg]

so high school | ln

the one where you feel like a teenager in love.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: fluff, smut (MDNI, +18), public masturbation, fingering, orgasm denial

note: i’ve been listening to this song on repeat for almost a week now, it’s so catchy and the GTA lyrics made me laugh so i had to write something inspired by it. it’s short but i hope you enjoy :) not proofread

being in love had never been as easy as it was with lando.

you had been in love before, sure, but your heart beat in a different rhythm whenever he was around.

you both had felt the spark between you the very first time you met. you could swear the sound of his laugh would always be your favorite song and something as simple as the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made the butterflies in your stomach flutter all around every damn time.

“come on, tell me again!” your voice was high-pitched, it always was when you were with your boyfriend.

you heard lando let out a chuckle at your insistence, his body spread on the couch as you rested your head on his lap. his hand found yours, fingers entwining under the blanket that covered your body and you gave him a little squeeze, encouraging to tell you once more what you were asking.

“alright, alright,” he facetiously rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from your lips. “i thought you were the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

you had heard his first impression on you about a thousand times before, but it always brought a smile to your face, being reminded of how enamored he was with you since the very first night.

“fuck, i could barely sleep that night because you wouldn’t leave my mind,” and you had felt the exact same thing.

you two had just clicked instantly, your friends surprised at the chemistry of the both of you.

despite of how crowded the club was that evening you met, it had felt like no one was around you. endless conversation and laughs that seemed to never cease lured you away from the presence of everyone else, and when his lips finally met yours hours later you felt your heart exploding. your bodies moulded together as if you were made to each other, smiles and soft giggles breaking the kiss every few seconds.

and wrapped in his arms you felt like you were sixteen again; and admittedly, no one had ever loved you quite like him before.

୨୧

for the almost eight months that you had been together, you and lando had always loved to invite your mutual friends over during the weekend. at the end of the day, they were the reason you two had met in the first place, and there weren’t enough words in the english language to just show how grateful you were.

every few saturdays all of you would reunite in your —his —living room, a few bottles of alcohol and snacks set on the tea table as you played some stupid drinking game. after that, you would just play the first movie that one of you could think of, lights off as everyone settled either on the couch or, most likely, on the floor, a little too tipsy to even bother getting comfortable.

that night it was american pie playing on the big screen as you cuddled into your boyfriend’s embrace under the soft blanket; it was chilly, the cool summer freeze making you need to cover the bare skin of your legs.

you softly sighed as your leaned your back to his chest as his arms circled around you; and then one of his hands was creeping under the blanket, fingers gently brushing the skin of your thighs.

you smiled at the comfort of his warmth, eyes fixed on the screen mindlessly.

but lando had had a little too much to drink that night, so his fingers slowly moved up, up, up, until they found the seam of your shorts. and the innocence of his previous touch was immediately thrown away the second you looked up to his face, eyes furrowed in confusion, just to meet his smirk.

“what are you doing?” you whisper-shouted, your thighs closing together as he tried to get closer to where he knew you wanted him.

and he shushed. that sly grin of his not leaving his lips.

you bit your lower lip and complied, legs slowly giving him access to your core as your eyes went back to the movie. with slow, teasing movements, he managed to push your shorts and your panties to the side, fingers finding the nub of your clit with ease. this was the most patient you had ever seen him, the tip of his digits slowly rubbing circles on you as he pretended to watch that stupid movie, not even looking at you.

your breath got heavier and unsteady as he touched you at a tauntingly pace, inaudible to everyone else thanks to the loud volume of the tv.

but when he slid his fingers down your folds, coating them in your slick before slowly pushing two of them into your hole, you couldn’t help a gasp from escaping your lips.

you felt your face heating up when the sound earned a look from some of your friends, and you tried your best to cover it with a chuckle. that scene better had been funny, you thought.

lando, however, seemed to find your situation hilarious. you looked up at his smile as he kept fucking his fingers into you slowly, and you could tell he was trying his best not to laugh.

as the seconds passed, stifling your sighs was getting harder and harder, your walls already clenching around your boyfriend’s digits. your fingers wrapped around his wrist, warning him that you were close, and that’s when he stopped.

the withdrawal of his fingers almost made you whine, and you shot a glance at him, this time, a disappointed one. he seemed to like how you responded, because his smile widened and he lowered his head to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“later, baby. i want to hear those pretty sounds you make when you come,” he whispered into your ear before leaning back on the couch again, shamelessly cleaning his fingers on your thigh and leaving you craving his touch even more.

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[frannyzooey]

One Bed

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

A/N: Just shameless "there is only one bed" filth for the amazing beauty who is @jollyrancher87. Thank you for sending me your ask, my lovely - I hope you like it! ❤️

--

“Goddamn it.”

He sighs, his fingers curled around the straps of his backpack as he shifts his weight to one foot and you step around him to see what he is looking at. 

Oh. 

“I mean,” you start carefully, “At least there’s one?”

You both look at the set of beds in front of you: one perfectly fine, if not a bit worn and dusty, and the other one covered in a pool of water from a crack in the ceiling above. It’s been dripping on it awhile, long enough for silt and plaster to form a sort of sludge on the top of the comforter and you only imagine how thick the mold is underneath. 

“Just take it,” he says, shrugging his pack off and you frown, shaking your head. 

“You’re the one with the bad back, you take it. I’ll make do on the floor.”

Impatience and exhaustion flares bright in his reply, his expression one of frustration. “I’m not gonna let you sleep on the fuckin’ floor while I get the bed. Just take it. I’ll be fine.”

He places his pack on the floor, kneeling down to join it. Resting his head on the rough, dirty canvas and folding his tight arms across his chest, he looks so comically uncomfortable that you fight the urge to laugh. 

“Jesus, Joel, get up.” You tap the toe of your boot against the heel of his and he looks up at you with a frown. “Look, it’s not huge or anything, but we should both be able to fit. Get up here.”

His eyes narrow, and you roll your eyes, turning away from him. You feel his gaze on you as you set your pack down and toe your boots off, placing them both at the end of the bed. Pulling back the covers, you lay down and tug them up and over you, laying still. 

“You coming?”

There is a beat, and then you hear another deep sigh escape him from the floor. 

“Fine.”

–

Practically asleep before his head hit the pillow, he wakes in the middle of the night. Not the sort of sudden jolt that he’s used to, but rather a slow, hazy pull from the depths that he’s often not afforded. He’s been sleeping deeply, and what wakes him is that he’s hot – too hot, uncomfortably hot. He moves to push away the covers when he touches something else instead - you.

You’ve wound around each other in your sleep: your face buried in the crook of his neck, your arms curled against the width of his chest, his leg tucked in between your own with his arm slung protectively over the curve of your side. He can tell you’re still asleep from your slow, steady breaths and he tries to carefully extract himself, but for every inch he moves back, you unconsciously press closer. 

He tries to rouse you instead, his hand gently shaking your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he whispers softly, in the dark. “Hey. Wake up.”

Expecting you to wake with a start, he tries not to think about how the only reason you’re probably so deeply asleep is his close proximity. How he himself slept just as deeply for the same reason. 

He shakes you again. “Hey.”

Your eyes still closed, a small frown pulls between your brows. You tilt your face up, still half asleep and when your mouth brushes his, he freezes. He doesn’t move, abandoning the attempt to wake you and he thinks you’ve fallen back asleep when your arm unfurls from his chest, reaching up to cup his cheek. He lets you touch it for a moment, his eyes taking in your face in the dark. 

Your mouth is so close to his he can feel warm puffs of your breath skimming over his lips, your face so close that he can see the fan of your thick lashes and your nose brushes against his in a sleepy nuzzle, seeking out his warmth. Your hand slides up into his hair, fingers threading into the thick strands. 

He should pull back and stop this, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you whisper slowly, your mouth full and soft with sleep.

His eyes drop to it for a moment and it looks so plush and inviting that he can’t help himself.

When his mouth meets yours in a chaste press, you kiss him back with an unconscious purse of your lips, opening them just enough to fit his lower lip neatly between your own. He breathes you in, letting them rest together in a full, lush fit and then you’re giving him another one; a firmer, more conscious pressure. Another one yet, his hand cradling the soft curve of your cheek to keep you in place. 

You fit yourself closer to him, your thighs tightening around his own and your nails drag over his scalp, his fingers pressing into the hinge of your jaw in a silent request to open yourself wider for him. You taste sweeter than he thought you would, your sleep-thick mouth warm and inviting and hungry and when he shifts to lean over you, you tug him on top of you instead. 

You might have been sleeping before, but he knows you’re fully awake now even if you won’t open your eyes. Your movements are intentional, the width of his body heavy and solid between your legs, comforting in its weight and your head tips back into the pillow, pulling away from the kiss for some air. He doesn’t seem to need any, his mouth molding around the curve of your jaw before sliding down the length of your neck and he gives the sweet skin there open mouthed kisses, a slight suck to them. His teeth catch, and you quietly moan. 

Bringing his mouth back to yours, his beard brushes against your skin, your tongue chasing his as you deepen the kiss and when he lets out a low groan into your mouth, you swallow it down, savoring it. 

He sounds just like he does in your dreams, just like the way this feels. Slick and needy between your legs, you roll your hips up to meet his in a wordless invitation and he presses his down into you, making room for himself. Soon you’re grinding against each other in desperation: your achingly empty core seeking out the solid heft that you can feel pressed against you, his own need evident. 

“Joel, I –,” you whisper into his mouth in between kisses, a pleading creeping into the word and he nods, knowing what you need. 

His hand reaches down and fumbles with his belt, another groan pouring into your mouth when he feels the heat of you against the back of his hand and then he’s working on the button of your jeans, trying to work it open. You try to help, but it’s not fast enough for him and with your thumbs still hooked under the waistband to slide them down, he shoves his hand underneath everything to find your slick seam, filling you swiftly with two thick fingers. 

“Fuck,” you whine, abandoning your plan and arching your hips into his hand. He curls his fingers and begins a grinding stroke, the digits a snug fit in their slick slide.

“Goddamn,” he groans, muscle memory making him reach for a spot inside. He finds it, rubbing the pads of his fingers against it and is rewarded with your breathless cry, and a tight clench. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me. So wet. Gonna feel so good around my cock. Gonna make me come, with this sweet little pussy.” 

His fingers work, work, work underneath your jeans and you can’t even answer him with how good it feels. You let your thighs drop open wider, your hands reaching down to splay over the curve of his ass and you meet every one of his strokes with your hips, forcing his fingers deeper. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his mouth parted as he watches you take. 

“I want a taste,” he breathes, pushing his fingers in as deep as they can go, down to the base of his bruised knuckles. “I want –” he kisses you greedily, panting into your mouth. “I want to taste it, but I –”

You want him to taste it too - Christ, you do – but you need him to fuck you right now more than you need air to breathe, so you wrap your hand around his wrist with a tug and he slips it out from your pants, your hands already working on shoving your jeans down. He understands, his weight abruptly leaving you to sit up and back on his heels and when he helps you strip them off along with your underwear, his body bows immediately to taste, but you stop him, pulling him back up to cover you. 

He reaches between you to pull himself out, aching and thick and stiff in the calloused palm of his hand and since that is the sensation that he is used to, he groans loudly when he finds the dip of your entrance and fills you with a smooth, slick stroke. 

You hastily shove the loose band of this jeans down further, needing to feel every inch of skin he’ll afford you and when his hips are a neat, flush fit against your own just like his mouth was earlier, you rock up to encourage him to move. 

“You okay?” he asks, knowing just how much he is to take and you nod, your teeth biting into your plush lower lip. 

“Yea, just – just move.” You raise your head off the pillow to kiss him, and when he dips his own to reach your mouth, he slides even deeper, his body relaxing on top of yours. The action steals the breath from your lungs, a soft sound catching in the back of your throat and he pulls his hips back just enough to feel the friction of you before sliding home again. Again, again. 

Your thighs hitch higher around his waist, your hands slipping under his thick flannel, splaying over his muscles flexing under your hold. His hand curls around the crown of your head, keeping you in place as he feels you shift up the mattress underneath him with every thrust and between the skill of his mouth and his hips, you can’t think of anything but him. 

You wish you could feel him wholly: feel his firm, bare body against yours, feel the sparse hair that covers his thighs and trails low over his belly, feel sweat collect where your body is joined as he moves above you - but you’ll take what you can get, in this room in the middle of nowhere, in this bed you were forced to share. 

“I knew you would feel this good,” he says lowly, his eyes closing with a frown. “I knew it.”

He’s been thinking about it for ages, waking up hard night after night, finding relief in his hand when he gets a moment alone and now that he has you, he can’t stop himself from going harder, deeper. The damp heat of your mouth rests just under his jaw, your gasps reaching his ears like the sweetest sound he’s ever heard and it makes him swell even more inside you; a bright flare of heat gathering at the base of his spine.  

You hook your ankles higher on his back, your hands bracing themselves on the mattress to help you force the angle just right and his hips are a rhythmic pound against the inside of your thighs, his jaw clenching with effort. He switches into a grind the wetter you get, his hand coming up to cup your chin and force your mouth to meet his, and your fingers dig into the meat of his forearm, holding on. 

Black skates around the edges of your vision, his scent and his sounds and his weight and strokes and thickness consuming you, and you just like in the shadowed blur of your dreams, you can’t say anything. Instead your body matches his need: your fingers gripping him in their desperate hold, your heels digging into the back of his thighs to push him deeper, your mouth memorizing his taste. 

He was never a man of words to begin with, but they have all left him now, and he chases the flutter he feels around him, stoking it until you’re all but gasping underneath him in your breathless warning. He wants to hear you say it just like you do in his dreams and as if you can read his mind, you do. 

“Joel,” you cry out, your lips brushing against his. “I’m – you feel too good, I –”

His hand drifts down to hold your hip, and he picks up his pace. 

Your fingers twist in his flannel, hanging on as he tips you right over the edge and the frozen, taut lock of your body underneath him makes him spill his own release; some inside, some along the curve of your ass when he tries to pull out. He twitches against you, his cock a wet smear along your skin and even though you can feel him try to immediately pull back, you hang on tight to him, forcing him to stay close. 

He’s breathing heavily and so are you, your eyes locked on each other. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have encouraged it, shouldn’t have taken advantage of your sleep muddled need and just when he’s about to open his mouth, you beat him to speaking. 

A smile curls at the edge of your lips and his eyes drop to watch; he can never look away from your mouth. 

“Thank god for one bed.”

[withleeknow]

my moon and stars.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, (tooth-rotting) fluff; even tho it's unedited this is still one of my favorite things that i've written on this blog so far !!! gaaaaaaah word count: 1.1k listen to 🎧: lover - taylor swift

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

nobody thought jeongin would be the next one to get married, but alas, here you are, at the reception of your friend's wedding, nursing a glass of champagne.

"come on," minho says, snatching the glass away from you and finishing the rest of it in one gulp, before he takes you by the hand and tugs you forward. "let’s go dance."

you can't even be annoyed that he basically just stole your drink. instead, you just laugh, and let the love of your life drag you to the dance floor.

he guides you to move in a slow rhythm, matching the tempo of the song that's playing in the background. it's a song that you would usually think is overrated and has been played to hell and back, but in the moment, drunk on the cozy atmosphere, you think it's nice. you briefly wonder what song you would choose for your first dance at your own wedding.

it's just a fleeting thought. you've been having those all day.

jeongin's wedding was beautiful. everything was done to perfection, and you have no doubt that most of it was overseen by his girlfriend.

nope, correction: she's his wife now.

nevertheless, you've been imagining yourself and minho in a similar setting. you in a stunning white dress. him, dashing in a classy suit. the two of you exchanging vows with teary eyes in front of your friends and families. the cats as ring bearers. sealing forever with a deep kiss and fond smiles.

as you continue to sway along to the music, you wrap your arms around minho's neck and pull him closer. there's something in the way that he's been treating you all day that makes you melt even more than it usually does. he's been more touchy; there's not a single moment where his hands aren't on your body in any way, whether it be a hand on your knee, on the small of your back, or an arm around your waist. minho isn't often overt with his affection like that; he tends to dote on you in the privacy of your own loving bubble, away from anyone and everyone.

then, there's the softness that he's looking at you with in his chocolate brown eyes. it's warm, saccharine; it makes you feel like you two are the only people left in the room even though this is supposed to be someone else's big day.

"i love you," he says suddenly, brushing his nose against yours before leaning in just a tad closer to your lips, "you mean the world to me."

it's rare for minho to say things like this out of the blue. he's a man of few words after all.

he's full of surprises today, it seems.

"what's the occasion?" you ask with a coy smile.

"no occasion. just wanted to tell you that."

you close the distance, pressing your lips against his as his arms wrap themselves tighter around your body. "i love you too," you smile against him.

he mirrors your smile, and kisses you deeper. he's so sweet today, so openly loving with you even as your friends around you watch on.

you have an inkling that maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same things as you.

you stay in each other's arms until the song ends, then another one, then a couple more, just basking in soothing glow of love that's covering the air tonight. minutes pass with kisses shared, until it's finally time for the bouquet toss.

minho reluctantly lets you leave his side for the first time since the morning. his eyes follow you as you move to the front of the room, standing a comfortable distance away from the bride. you've never really been interested in this kind of things anyway; you're just doing it for the sake of participation.

everyone else is engrossed in what's about to happen, their eyes fixed on the bride and the peonies in her hands, but minho is only focused on you. you, who's trying to blend in with the group of people and undoubtedly praying that the bouquet doesn't make its way into your hands. you, whom he thinks looks so beautiful, all dolled up for the special occasion. you, who made his heart stutter when you walked into the room in your pretty dress and flashed him a bashful smile. (but who is he kidding? you make his heart want to give out and run away every single morning when he wakes up and sees you peacefully sleeping in his arms.)

just you. always only you.

you, you, you.

you don't hang in the moon in the sky. you are the moon, you are the stars.

minho watches you watch the bride as she counts down from 3, then flings the bouquet up in the air while everyone waits with bated breath. it's a mess of flailing arms from what he can tell, a couple of the bridesmaids practically fighting each other to try and grab the damn thing.

you try to make yourself smaller, to duck lower so that the others could have the honor instead of you. but when the flowers come hurling toward you, you have no choice but to raise your hands and catch it, lest you want to be lobbed in the face with a bouquet of peonies.

some of the people around you sigh frustratedly, but most of the guys around minho suddenly burst into loud cheers. they clap him on the back and shake him by the shoulders but still, he remains transfixed on you and your adorable wide-eyed expression. your parted lips and doe eyes blinking fast as a rosy flush creeps up your skin.

your eyes find him in an instant, and you both just stare at each other for a moment. he reckons that you're trying to gauge his reaction, because the room is now filled with excited squeals of congratulations and half-hearted jokes of how you and minho are going to be the next ones to get hitched.

you look uncertain, still frozen in place with your hands clutching the peonies.

but then he just smiles, and it makes you smile too, your body immediately relaxing as you give him a wave using the bouquet, your shoulders slumping slightly when you release a sigh.

to minho, it doesn't matter whether you caught the flowers or not; neither of you believes in that kind of stuff anyway. it doesn't matter because he's always known that he was going to marry you, that there's no one else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

it doesn't matter because unbeknownst to you, he's already got a velvet box hidden somewhere in your shared home, with a gorgeous diamond ring inside just waiting for the day it can be put on your finger.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2024]

[escapenightmare]

soft n pouty bf nagi <3

"you forgot something," nagi mumbles from behind you.

"what?" you ask him as he wraps his arms around your waist from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. he had stopped you at the door a second before you were about to leave, telling you that you had forgotten something. "what is it?"

he holds out a book in front of your face, "book."

"oh shit," you quickly stuff it in your bag, escaping from his lingering touch. "thanks sei."

"you forgot something else too."

his drowsy voice makes you stop again and let go of the doorknob, groaning. "what now?"

"kiss."

"bro." you deadpan, turning around to face him and his little unconscious pout. you quickly press your lips to his, "okay?"

"that wasn't meaningful," he narrows his eyes at you, looking sleepy even though he'd been awake for an hour already. his hair was all messed up, more than it usually was, sticking out in all ends and looking all soft and fluffy, just like him.

"sei," you groan again and kiss him once more, making it last longer than the previous one. "happy?"

"no," he lightly huffs, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours with a more defined pout.

you narrow your eyes at him the way he did at you earlier. "why?"

"’don't want you to leave," he said softly, pulling you to him with your hand and wrapping his arms around you once again.

"but i have to go, sei," you tell him, lifting your hand to stroke his hair.

"why?" you could literally picture him stomping his feet like a child. "return the book tomorrow?" he suggests.

"the due date's today," your hand is still stroking his hair and he leans into your touch, face relaxing and eyes closing.

when he speaks again it's almost in a whisper, "just for a little while?"

you think about it. if you stayed for even just five more minutes, you'd be smothered with affection and attention, pulled onto the couch for cuddles, probably get so caught up in the moment that you'd forget you had to leave in the first place.

or, you could leave right now and come home to a poutier and more affection-seeking, drunk on not having your love seishiro.

"...?" even his silence looks like he's asking you a question.

"what?" you reluctantly ask.

"don't go," he says, voice drowsy and as soft as could be. "just for a little. ’swear." a pause before he adds, "please."

your heart almost shatters at how broken he sounded, and you let him know your answer by wrapping your arms around him in a hug. "okay. but only for a little."

he eagerly nods, tugging you to the couch and sitting down before pulling you on top of him, hugging you close to his chest. you could hear his steady heartbeat as he looked down at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

"so," you start, maintaining eye contact. "what's wrong?"

his long legs tangle with yours and he seems to hesitate before he answers, voice as gentle as it was before. "just missed you."

"hm?" you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead and look down at him. "we were together the whole day yesterday."

"i know," he replies, hand on your back and thumb tracing random shapes that you could feel through your shirt.

a circle.. a six... an eight.. a square...

nagi lets out a soft and content exhale. "i like it when it's like this." his eyes sparkle a little and his lips curl up in a small smile. "when it's just the two of us."

you snuggle closer to him, letting him lean his forehead on your shoulder as he hugged you tighter. "me too, sei."

unsurprisingly, you fall asleep, wrapped up in nagi's arms and warm and comfortable hoodie.

only for a little while my ass, you thought when you woke up again.

he's setting a mug containing your favorite drink down on the coffee table in front of you.

your eyes immediately wander to the window and you sigh, it was dark outside.

the library was closed now.

"here," your boyfriend hands you a book, sitting down next to you and cuddling up to you.

your eyebrows furrow, it was a book in your reading list.

"i went and returned the book for you," nagi says. "and got that."

you brighten up with a grin, "thanks, sei." your hand moves up to pat his head a few times and he pouted when you put your hand down.

there's no words exchanged as he curls up to you, and you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was in this moment; hair messed up more than ever, eyes sleepy and half closed again, drowning in an oversized hoodie and lips forming a tiny 'o' shape because of.... well, you had no idea.

you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, eyes affectionate and loving, pout no longer visible on his face.

"i love you," he mumbles, leaning down and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. "a lot."

you gently smile, "i love you too."

nagi pokes the book in your hand, "read to me?"

"always."

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm clearing out my draft folder again.

Steve and Robin were running through Starcourt, high as fuck when Steve skidded to a stop in front of Eddie Munson.

"You look like Eddie Munson," Steve giggled.

"Steve!" Robin said with wide eyes. "I think that is - "

"Man, what happened to your face?" Eddie asked.

"Funny story, can you keep a secret from Eddie?" Steve said seriously.

"Sure," Eddie grinned.

"No, Steve, that's - ,"

"ANYWAY," Steve rolled his eyes at Robin. "I had this crush on him in freshman year. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Uh - are you guys on drugs?" Eddie asked.

"YES! But we didn't want to," Robin said. "They wanted information."

"Aw, fuck, there's this guy that works with Rick. Real sketchy. I told him he needs to let him go before he gets Rick into trouble, but does Rick listen to me? Nah!" Eddie exclaimed. "Look, whatever the hell he gave you should wear off. Not all drug dealers are like that. What we pitch to you is what you get. What you want is what you get. Okay, let's get you guys to the bathroom and try to get it out of your system. Come on."

"I'm going to tell Eddie," Steve said with a grin. "Shh! Wait here. I'll tell you how it goes."

Steve ran off with Robin on his tail. Eddie cursed and chased after them. They got distracted by the lights hanging overhead and started spinning around, gazing at them in awe.

"You guys do not want to do that," Eddie said, and they started heaving before they ran off in the direction of the bathrooms. "And that's why."

He ran off after them and into the bathroom room, where they vomited into the toilets. Eddie knelt down next to him and stroked Steve’s hair as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once Steve was done, he leaned his head into Eddie's touch and closed his eyes, letting Eddie stroke his hair. He whined when Eddie moved away and saw him go to the sink. He came back with a wet, soapy paper towel and started cleaning Steve’s face.

"I guess I'm chopped liver," Robin said. "It's okay, I'll get it myself."

Steve laughed and made a face at the taste in his mouth. Eddie clapped a hand on his back.

"I'll be right back," Eddie said.

He rushed off to buy a couple of toothbrushes and toothpaste. He also picked up what he thought was lip balm. When he returned, he he heard them talking. They were clearly bonding, solidifying their working relationship into a friendship. Or maybe something more considering how Robin was talking about watching Steve. Shit, maybe Eddie should leave. They were talking about someone else now.

"But Tammy Thompson's a girl," Steve said.

"Yeah," Robin said.

"Oh."

Or maybe not. Oh God, Robin was coming out to Steve, and Eddie was overhearing it. Oh God, what should he do? He was frozen to the spot. Steve was going on about how Tammy Thompson was a total dud and how she sounded like a Muppet. Eddie snorted. Yeah, that was true.

"I can't believe you're making fun of my crush," Robin laughed. "What about yours?"

"Hey, at least Eddie can sing," Steve replied.

Fuck! Okay, so he had been telling the truth then.

"How do you know he can sing?" Robin asked.

"My car broke down near the Hideout one night, and I heard him singing. He was playing with his band, Corroded Coffin," Steve said. "They were really good. I was going to go talk to him, but I kind of thought that the drummer was his girlfriend, but that's crazy. I mean, guys and girls can just be friends, right?"

"I like to think so," Robin replied.

There was a long pause in their conversation, which gave Eddie plenty of opportunity to burst through the door.

"Okay, so I have a green toothbrush and a pink one," Eddie said. "Which one do you guys want?"

"Ooh, pink," Steve said and they stared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Eddie said in amusement.

He watched as they brushed their teeth. Well, he mostly watched Steve.

"So, how much of our conversation did you hear?" Steve asked, setting his toothbrush on the sink.

"What? I didn't hear anything. Were you guys talking about something?" He asked.

"Seriously?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't hear anything that you guys didn't want me to hear," Eddie said.

"I don't think you're the kind of guy who would spill the beans on us," Robin said. "At least, I hope not so you don't have to deny anything."

"Ooh, lip gloss," Steve plucked it out of Eddie's hand. "May I?"

"Yeah, I thought it was lip balm," Eddie frowned. "So, have you always known that you liked guys?"

"Not just guys, girls too," Steve said as he started applying the lip gloss to his pouty lips. "I'm bisexual."

"Did you always know you were bisexual?" Eddie asked as he watched Steve’s lips intently.

"Well, yes and no," Steve said. "It was more like a slow build-up to my realization. Like more and more evidence started piling up that I could no longer deny."

"So, it wasn't like you looked at someone one day and realized 'shit, I'm into dudes, now?" Eddie asked as his eyes raked over the swell of his ass.

"It's always kind of been there. Why?" Steve asked as he closed the lip gloss.

"No reason," Eddie blushed, looking at his shoes.

"Oh my god!" Robin exclaimed. "You woke him up."

"What?" Steve asked.

"You woke him up!" Robin exclaimed, and Eddie quickly hid behind his hair.

"It's the outfit!" Eddie shrieked.

"So, what is it about the outfit that does it for you?" Steve asked.

"It's everything! The socks! The shorts that fill out your ass fantastically, by the way! And the shirt with the red bow tie in front," Eddie said. "It's just the whole fucking outfit."

"You should see me in the hat," Steve said in amusement.

Suddenly, Dustin and Erica burst into the bathroom before Steve could say anything else.

"There you are!" Dustin shrieked.

"Hey, could you give us a minute?" Steve asked Robin.

Robin quickly started ushering the kids out of the bathroom.

"But, Steve?!" Dustin asked.

"Out!" Robin yelled and shut the door behind them.

"I like you and as badly as I want to kiss you right now. . . I don't want it to be after I vomited in a bathroom. Plus, you still need to figure things out. If you still want me a few days from now. Call me. I have to deal with these kids I babysit. So go home and think things over," Steve said softly.

There was something that Steve wasn't telling him, but Eddie knew that he was also right. Besides, it was late. Steve placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It felt much like Steve was promising him something. Steve pulled away and started moving toward the door.

"Hey, Steve?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm definitely going to call you," Eddie said.

Steve laughed and walked out of the bathroom, leaving them both with hope for the future.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I love your works but the poly!marauders have my heart and soul. This is literally my first request ever but could we have poly!marauders as emts, where they are already in a relationship with the reader and reader keeps getting dizzy and passing out without a clear reason. Or literally anything established relationship and hurt/comfort with them.

I’m so bad at communicating and I hope you know and trust that people sincerely think you are amazing and believe in your talents even if we don’t know you in real life.

Much love and happiness for the new year <3

You're so sweet omg, thank you!! I slightly varied your dizzy/passing out idea but I hope this scratches the hurt/comfort itch <3

cw: severe dizziness, vomiting (this actually happened to me as a kid and I still have no idea what it was but it was ROUGH)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You wake with a whine already tearing from your throat. The room is dark, and yet somehow it’s spinning. You know this more by feeling than by sight. 

You breathe heavily, patting the bed next to you until you find something that’s not sheet. You’re holding your head as motionless as you can. You think it’s slowing. 

“Hm?” Remus grunts. 

“Help.” Your voice is scratchy, choked with panic. “I don’t—I’m so dizzy.”

“What?” He shifts on the bed, and your plan to keep still is instantly foiled. The slight movement of your pillow sends your head rolling again. Terror claws up your throat. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” you stress. “I just woke up and it’s like I’m spinning, Rem, I can’t see and—”

“Okay, shh, shh. Calm down.” You feel his spindly hand set down on top of yours. 

The sheets whisper as the other boys rouse, and then a light turns on. It’s instantly better and worse. You can make out vaguely that you’re in bed, but everything in front of you whirls. At least now you can detect movement as a brownish shape enters your field of vision. 

“What’s going on?” James’ voice is groggy. His hand stretches across your clavicle. “Why’re you looking up like that?” 

“She says she’s dizzy.” Remus lifts his head above yours, or you think he does, a smear of pale skin and brown hair. “Is everything still spinning, dove?” 

You try to hum in affirmation, but it comes out a bit like a whimper. “It hasn’t stopped, but it gets worse anytime I move my head.” 

“Sounds like vertigo,” Sirius says. You recall he’d fallen asleep on Remus’ other side, but you don’t know if he’s moved since then. It’s odd speaking to them like this, disembodied voices you can touch but not see. 

A warm hand lays across your forehead. “No fever,” James murmurs. “Is it getting better when you’re still like that, angel?” 

You swallow. Maybe it’s because you’re in a vulnerable state, but his concerned tone is making your sinuses hurt. 

“A little. Not enough to see or anything.” 

You feel the bed dip, and then someone’s knees are digging into the sides of your hips. “Alright, gorgeous,” Sirius says, “let’s sit you up.”  

“That sounds not fun,” you voice your concern hastily.

He coos, enfolding you in a hug that presses you securely against his chest. “I know, baby, but it could help us figure out what’s going on with you, okay?” He starts leaning back slowly, pulling you upright with him. “There, good girl.” 

You recognize the feel of James’ hand as it splays on your back, drawing big, sweeping circles. You feel like you could be sick. You close your eyes, but can’t decide if that helps. Everything is worse. There’s no escaping it. 

Remus’ bony knuckles brush your forehead, rechecking your temperature. “Can you hear us alright? Are your ears ringing at all?” 

“I don’t think so.” It’s hard to tell when everything else is already so disorienting. Could it be a quiet ringing? You’re not sure you’d know it if you heard it. “I can hear you fine.” 

He hums. James’ hand leaves your back and the mattress shifts as he gets out of bed. You turn your head on instinct to see where he’s going. It’s the worst idea of your life. You groan as the spinning intensifies, dragging you along on a tilt-a-whorl you’d never agreed to. It’s the feeling of the drunkest you’ve ever been times a thousand. 

Before you know it’s coming, bile rushes up your throat and spews out onto the bed. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

One pair of hands grips you by the shoulders, keeping you from pitching forward into your own sick, while another gathers your hair away from your face. You whimper as saliva strings from your mouth. Someone wipes it away with their sleeve. 

“I’m sorry.” Your throat hurts, your voice flagrant evidence of how close you are to tears. Your hair is secured behind your head with a ponytail. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, darling, it’s not your fault,” Remus shushes you, using that tone he does when he’s trying to cover his own worry and soothe someone else’s at the same time. You once heard him talk this way to a kitten he was trying to coax out of the road. “Do you feel any better now?” 

A sob catches in your throat. “No,” you confess. 

If anything, the feeling has gotten worse. It’s like you’re swimming in your own head. You grope blindly for something to hold, and a cool hand presses itself into yours. Sirius. 

“I’m really scared,” you choke out. 

His fingers squeeze yours. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, baby, I know it has to be terrifying.” 

He presses his lips ardently to your forehead. Wetness drips from your nose, and you grip his hand hard. It’s horrifically disconcerting not to be able to see your boyfriends, to be robbed of your sense of place, but their touches are grounding. The contact makes everything feel a bit more solid. 

“James is getting some things ready to go to the hospital,” Remus says softly, and you realize they must have been having one of your silent eye conversations while you couldn’t see. Stupidly, you feel a bit left out. 

“You can't help me here?” You’re pleading, your voice raw and wretched. You don’t want to make them feel bad, but what good is it to have three medically-trained professionals for boyfriends if they can’t utilize their expertise here at home? 

“I’m sorry, dovey.” Remus’ thumbs stroke your shoulders. “Vertigo this severe is probably an ear infection, but it could also be something more serious. Either way, we can’t get you antibiotics without a doctor.”

“The quicker we go, the quicker you could be feeling better,” James says, signaling his return. “Here, honey, I brought this to clean you up.” He doesn’t tell you what this is, but a second later a warm cloth swipes across your mouth and over your chin, wiping away the vomit there. 

“Thanks,” you say weakly. 

You can hear the smile in his voice well enough to picture it, small and sympathetic. “My pleasure, angel. Do you think you’ll be sick again?” 

“No.” You can say it with moderate certainty. Your head is still roiling, but it’s no longer taking your stomach with it. 

“Okie dokie,” he goes on with his usual determined cheer. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you in the car, so I think we’re all ready to go. Hold your head here for me?” He presses it gently to what you suppose must be his chest, the neckline of his pajama shirt rough against your cheek. “I’ll try to keep as still as I can.” 

Remus and Sirius let you go as James’ arms wrap around your shoulders and under your knees, lifting you off the bed. You push your face into his collar, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. Your vision swirls. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. 

“I’ve got you, my love.” James’ lips come down on your forehead, warm and sweet. “We’re gonna take such great care of you, I promise.”

[stxrslut]

ignore this if it makes zero senses but anyway

how do you think rafe would react if you had like a temper tantrum like an actual baby bc he's all like business man now and has no more time for sex and he always comes home tired but now he's like all fed up and you know

GRUMPY RAFE MY BELOVED!!

Rafe had been having a hard month business wise, and you want to give him a surprise to make him feel better. you’d been planning it for a week or so, and tonight will be the night it’s finally executed. you make sure to do everything perfectly. you set the table, and make the bed, and dress up in the cutest little baby pink lingerie set you own.

when Rafe gets home he’s agitated, his jaw ticking as he makes his way into the kitchen. though he stops when he finds the lights dimmed and two plates of his favourite meal set out on the table.

you bounce up to him, little pink floral dress flowing around your upper legs. “hi Rafe!” you chirp, moving to hug him tightly, cheek smushing up against his chest.

he wraps one arm around you, though he’s clearly distracted “uh— hi, baby. what’s all this for?” when he asks the question you don’t think much of it, just assuming he’s happy with the surprise.

“I made you dinner! so we can have a special night!” you smile, pressing yourself closer to him as you say the last part.

“right… sweetie I can’t right now.” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down at you as you frown.

“oh…” you look down, eyebrows furrowed, “you need to work?” you know the question is stupid, because obviously he needs to work, it’s all he’s needed to do for weeks.

“yeah… uh— look I’ll eat with you, kay?” he does his best to compromise when he sees the disappointed look on your face.

you brighten up slightly, nodding “okay…” you lead him by his hand to the table, sitting him down and pouring him a glass of the wine you’d prepared.

you try to make conversation, but Rafe keeps brushing you off, providing empty answers. it’s not even ten minutes before he’s finished his meal, standing up and giving you a half apologetic look “sorry baby, just uh— need to check on business.” he doesn’t say anything else before he leaves the room.

you wait for him to finish his work, and you’re determined to give him a good time once he is. you light candles in the bedroom, and splay yourself across the bed perfectly in your lingerie.

when he finally comes through at nearly one in the morning, you’re half asleep. “Rafe!” you scramble up to meet him, and he looks a little bewildered when he sees you all dressed up. “surprise!”

all he does is sigh “baby…” your face falls when he speaks, because you know by his expression what he’s going to say. “I can’t- we- it’s late— look… maybe in the morning.. or something.”

normally you’d just comply, but today you’re fed up, and all you want is some time with Rafe, and some awesome sex, that you haven’t had in weeks.

and so your lip begins to wobble, and you let out a petulant whine. you can see the cogs turning in his head as he processes what you’re starting to do.

“do not.” he warns, pointing with his eyebrows raised “do not freak out on me.” but you’ve already got your sights set, whimpering as tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“why don’t you want me?” you wail, flopping back down on the bed and kicking your legs. the Cameron boy shakes his head disapprovingly, but what could he really have expected.

“right— what… what is going on?” he sits down next to you, bringing a hand down to rest on your thigh which you only kick off.

“what is— what is going on? Rafe— ugh! you’re so annoying!” you sit up to yell, push at his chest, and then flop right back down again.

he sighs defeatedly, “right, I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me what’s going on. you got that?” you nod, avoiding eye contact. “good, now talk.”

you huff, annoyed at the commanding tone he carries, and annoyed that you know you can’t ignore it. “I just wanna have a good night!”

“what d’you mean by that baby?” he emphasises, clearly just as tired and fed up as you are.

“I mean we haven’t actually spent time together for like— weeks! I did everything right Rafe! I made a romantic meal and— and I put music on and I dressed super nice for you! I mean look at me okay I’m sat here with my tits all up in your face and- I wore that stupid sparkly buttplug you like to see. even though it’s so annoying to put in without your help and— I was going to let you do whatever you want to me! but all you’ve done all night is work, and I waited for you and now you just want to go to sleep and that’s fine! but— I just— I miss you Rafe.” by the end of it you’re sobbing, unable to keep your emotions in check any longer.

Rafe sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose before speaking “okay kid, come here. you’re fine” he pulls you onto his lap, pressing a kiss to your forehead to try and soothe you. “s’that all it is? you just want some dick?”

“rafe!” you chastise, pushing your head into his chest, “don’t just want dick.” you whine. Rafe just chuckles.

“but that’s part of it right?” he raises his eyebrows, and when you nod he sighs, shaking his head in defeat “right… well it would be a shame for you to have got this dressed up for nothing…”

[wheeboo]

to love and be loved | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which wonwoo tells you about his first (and only) love. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers WARNINGS. self-doubt talk on reader's end, self-indulgent wooweee, this was painfully hard to write lmao n have no idea if any of this makes sense WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from anon: Hiiiiiiii first of all congratssss for you 2k. For the event, ive been thinking the same exact story with wonwoo and #6 from list 3 - #6: “You’re not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You just… Need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

notes: i'd quite literally do anything to have these kinds of talks with wonwoo ☹️☹️. anyway i hope u all enjoy this <3 hits close to home >< tysm anon hehe <3

join the 2k celebration!

"Hey, uh, Wonwoo?"

"Mhm?"

"...have you ever been in love?"

A cricket chirps into the evening air right after you ask, and you suddenly feeling like you're holding in a long-winded breath. Then you hear a loud crunch by Wonwoo from the crackers he was snacking on, and you blink up to him wiping away the corner of his mouth. There's the slightest glimpse of a curve to his lips that you manage to catch.

He silently offers you a cracker in your direction, the anticipating silence between the two of you growing thickly. You take the cracker from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks, before nibbling on it absentmindedly.

The night is absolutely beautiful right now, swearing that you could spot and make out the constellations above if you squinted hard enough. The distant chirping of crickets is the only sound that breaks the silence as the coolness of the night rolls in, carrying with it slight breeze that whispers through the leaves overhead the balcony of your apartment.

"I have."

You swiftly turn your head to him, eyes widening intriguingly. "You have?"

The chuckle that leaves him is somewhat awkward, a tad bit hesitant. He crumples up the bag of crackers and sets it aside, chugging down the last sips of his drink and setting down the empty can as well.

"Did you... ever confess to them?" You ask, suddenly feeling curious, though there's a bit of disappointment at the tip of your tongue.

You swear you could see the thoughts swirling around his head. Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed up to the night sky. There's a distant look in his eyes, as though he's peering into some past moment that only he can see, before he shakes his head, a faint smile crossing over his lips.

"No, I didn't," he answers calmly. "They were too far away, so... I just chose to admire them at a distance."

You lean back against the wall behind, your shoulder momentarily brushing against his. "Did they know you?"

Wonwoo purses his lips together. "Mhm."

"Well, you missed your chance!" You exclaim, prodding him playfully with your elbow. "I can't believe you let them get away, dude. Like right through the little cracks of your fingers. You could've been in a relationship by now."

This earns you a low, playful scoff from Wonwoo. "Are you assuming that they loved me back?"

Immediately, you feel the heat crawl up your neck and to the tips your ears.

"Well, um... Yeah, I am," You admit sheepishly, letting out a small sigh. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for a guy like you? You're nice and... charming. I think anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

There's a silence that falls between the two of you, one simply more than just comfortable yet denser than ever, because the thought of being loved by Wonwoo seems to linger longer than you notice. You steal a glance at him, seeing his face still turned upwards towards the night sky and the moonlight reflecting on his glasses. Strands of his dark hair blow across his forehead in the breeze. You can't quite decipher his expression, but a flicker of something𑁋perhaps surprise, maybe even amusement𑁋dances on his features for a brief moment.

He finally turns back to you, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Yeah," You confirm, nodding lightly. "Absolutely."

Wonwoo still keeps his eyes on you as you glance away, seeing the way you fidget with your hands in your lap and smoothing out the creases in your pants nervously. He glances down at his own hand and back at yours, lips pursing together in contemplation, but only folds his fingers back together the second you reach over him to grab the crumpled-up bag of crackers. He feels a little bit too warm in his sweater right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

A crunch echoes through the air. Then another. And another.

"I've just been kinda... thinking a lot lately, I guess," You reply slowly, quietly. "And it sort of makes me sound desperate in a way, but there are times I just wonder if, um... if anyone has ever felt the same way about me."

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly. "Love?"

"Not just love, but... seeing me, you know?" Being able to talk about this out loud makes your chest feel heavy. "Since it's hard these days to find someone who sees you for who you are, not for who you can be. I... I just feel like I'm hard to love sometimes. Hell, maybe even unlovable. It’s hard to break out of that mindset when things get hard again.”

A thoughtful quietness seeps through the nighttime breeze, which sends goosebumps up and down your skin, but you don't mind it because you know that Wonwoo is listening either way. And the more you think about it𑁋the thought of knowing that he's here, with his presence is right next to you𑁋it seems to comfort you more than you notice.

There's a small hum of acknowledgement that you hear from his end, unsure if it's just your imagination or if he's actually responding as your mind feels a little jumbled up right now. But then Wonwoo shifts beside you, his arm lightly pressing against yours.

"But I... I think I've reached a point in time where I can say I love myself a little more than a few years ago, or last year, or even just yesterday," You continue to ramble a bit aimlessly, chuckling dryly to yourself. "It’d be nice to share that with someone too, you know? To finally get over this loneliness. But it's not entirely a sad loneliness or a happy one. It's, like, uh... both put together, I guess."

A few moments of silence pass. You feel Wonwoo gently nudge your leg with his.

"I'm proud of you."

You peer up to look at him, mind nearly going blank from the way he's gazing at you. Or maybe it's just the moonlight that's making him appear so... picturesque. "What for?"

"For loving yourself, silly," Wonwoo muses almost cheekily, and the delighted tone that you catch makes your stomach leap. "Even if it's just by a small percentage than yesterday, it's still okay. You're doing good. I want you to know that."

You're doing good. It's just those three singular words that has heat forming in your eyes that you somehow manage to blink back before anything could spill, and hearing it come from Wonwoo feels different. There's a vulnerable sweetness to them, a sincerity that catches you off-guard. You force a smile𑁋a grateful one, nonetheless𑁋before it shifts into a frown.

And Wonwoo catches it right away. "What's wrong?"

Your lips form a thin line, pressing together in thought. You refuse to acknowledge why you think your heart feels slightly... jealous.

"I hope whoever you loved before knows how lucky they are one day," You say to him. "if you're still in love with them, that is..."

Wonwoo stills for a minute, pensively. "I am."

"You are?"

"I never stopped."

You stare at him for a few moments, an eyebrow lifted in disbelief at him, before crossing your arms together and letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Then you should've said that you're in love with them, idiot."

Wonwoo sucks in a breath.

"I'm in love with you."

You blink instinctively, once, twice, three times, momentarily thinking that Wonwoo's presence might somehow disappear into thin air. But he's still there𑁋a certain softness in the way he's looking at you, a gentleness that seems to wrap around you like a warm embrace𑁋waiting for you. His words suspend heavily in the air, and maybe the world is also holding its breath just as you are too.

"And... You're not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You're far from that," Wonwoo continues, voice tender, fond, and soft as a lullaby. "You just... need to let me in, and let me show you you're just as worthy of love as anyone else is."

You could only sit merely frozen at this point, throat tightened and jaw dropped in shock among many other weird, fuzzy feelings happening throughout your body. Something between relief and disbelief. Hope and hesitancy. Comfort and uncertainty. You have the capacity to run yet you choose not to𑁋you're letting him in, letting the warmth of his words seep into the cracks of your doubt.

Your mind reels dizzily, almost like the world has been tilting away off-balance.

"You... You're in love with me?" You repeat, almost dumbly, because you cannot seem to fathom anything that's been said in the past few moments. "All that talk about earlier... about who you..."

Wonwoo hangs his head down low, rubbing at his neck in a bashful manner. "It was about you."

"And you never... you never told me?"

"Honestly, I'd like to think a part of it was you being a tad bit oblivious." And then he just simply grins, his nose crinkling along with it. "But that's okay. Watching you slowly figure yourself out made me realise that maybe I needed to find myself a little more too."

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading painfully throughout your face. At first, you have the urge to brush it all away as a silly misunderstanding. Maybe laugh it off, retreat back inside, and go to sleep pretending all of this didn't happen. But the sincerity in his eyes stops you.

You lick your dry lips, the cool night air beginning to feel a lot less suffocating.

"Did you?" You ask vaguely, before shaking your head repeating, "Did you... find yourself?"

Wonwoo lets his eyes roam over you, taking you in, before leaning back on the wall and bringing his gaze back up toward the night sky. Your eyes refuse to leave him, and perhaps this is what it's like to admire someone from afar and close up all at once.

The two of you take a deep, deliberate exhale together.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling softly. "I think I found myself right where I want to be."

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[murdrdocs]

ZOMBIE!LUKE SAVE ME 🙏

imagine going out on a supply run with them (bc you two are the “big kids”) and you get stuck somewhere… forced proximity… sweat… “just the tip”….

hints of perv!luke; implied voyeurism; unprotected sex; forced proximity; just the tip; MDNI 18+. 2k words. w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

Think about something else. 

The steady step-slide of the walkers just outside of this small room. The heat that is permeating the small space, having nowhere to go other than circulate around you and Luke’s bodies, and then puncture through your shirts and pants until it makes your clothes stick to your skin. Maybe think about the two kids depending on you just thirty minutes up the road, or about what they could be up to right now. Think about anything other than your current position. 

But telling yourself not to think about it only makes you want to think about it more. The more you resist feeling Luke pressed up against your backside, the more you feel him. His arms brushing against the back of yours. His hips pressed into yours, but a little higher since he’s taller than you. His chest against your back, his chin knocking into your head every so often, his breaths just a tad off from yours and mingling with your own. 

It’s a position born out of necessity. As soon as Luke heard the sound of walkers approaching, he pulled you into the first room he saw, which just so happened to be the tiniest and stuffiest janitorial closet ever. In his haste, you foolishly left your only weapon on the counter outside, and although Luke had complained about your amateurish mistake, he made the same one. 

Which left you and Luke unknown-last-name in a janitor's closet, pressed up against each other until however many walkers were outside decided there was no good food for them in this CVS and wandered off to their next restaurant. 

Your position wouldn’t be so bad if Luke hadn’t been making it a nightmare. He isn’t doing it on purpose you figure, but you can still place the blame on him. At least on his body. 

In an attempt to give him some space, you slide your foot forward, only for the softened toe of your shoe to thud against the wall. Instinctively, as least you’re assuming, Luke’s hand flies to your waist and he pulls you back against his chest, not moving even when you collide with force that should have sent him staggering. He’s holding his breath, so you hold yours, and when nothing happens and only then, he exhales and you do the same. Though, he doesn’t let you go. 

“Stop moving,” he hisses right against your ear, almost too silent but the lack of any other noise in this space amplifies the sounds that do exist. Like the way your breaths speed up. 

Instead of replying, you rear your elbow forward as much as you can, and then jab it back into Luke’s side. He groans.

“You stop.” 

Luke takes a moment. He starts to clear his throat and then stops midway through as if realizing just how loud that would be. 

“I’m not … ‘m not doing anything.” 

You wish you could glare at him. But not only can you not move, it’s also too dark to see anything but the tiny sliver of light coming through the crack in the door. 

You don’t know if Luke senses your unbelieving attitude or if he’s just overcompensating when he adds,“I can’t help it.”

You’re just about to tell Luke to try to help it, but then footsteps begin to come towards the door. They stop right in front of you, and Luke grips your waist with more force. You can feel his stance tighten behind you like when he’s preparing for a fight and you mirror it. You both stand like that for a couple of minutes, waiting for something to happen, and then the walker moves along and leaves you and Luke there to deal with his problem. 

Maybe if you ignore Luke’s problem in the same way you have done with the walker, then it will go away. 

‎

“How the fuck do you still have a boner?”

The sun has set by now. You know so by the old watch on your wrist and the now darkened crack between the door and the frame. Walkers march around tenfold, Percy and Annabeth are left on their own, there’s so much to worry about, and Luke still has a boner pressed into you. 

The thunderous sound of their heavy feet dragging against the tile shrouds your voices, allowing for you to finally talk to Luke after hours. 

You’re both sitting on the ground now, but the way the closet is arranged makes your leg have to sling over Luke’s lap, allowing you to feel the stiff erection confined in his cargo pants. Luke has his flashlight propped up in front of you both, but currently flipped off to conserve the battery and to avoid alerting the walkers. You don’t need the fluorescent lighting to tell that he’s shrugging. 

“I don’t know. It’s not like it’s something I can help.” 

You roll your eyes for dramatic effect, even if he can’t see you. “You definitely can.” You’re being unreasonable, but now that the sun has set and there are worries surrounding you on every end, you would rather focus on this minute worry over the two bigger ones hopefully in a mansion down the road. “Just think about your grandmother or something.” 

“Oh yeah, thinking about my dead grandmothers that I have never met will get rid of my boner.” 

“It will! If you can be horny and sad at the same time then there’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Oh says you!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I can hear you crying and mo–” Luke stops while he’s ahead, but the damage is already done. 

You give him a second, perhaps to retract his statement, apologize, explain, or do something other than sit there in silence. When he doesn’t even attempt to add onto his already incriminating confession, you take your stance. 

“You listen to me?” Again, he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. “You’re such a fucking creep, Luke.” 

You try to sound peeved. You try to sound disgusted. And maybe it comes across that way, but you only barely feel that way. Especially when you’ve been putting on a show for days with hopes to get his attention. 

When you’re with Luke, there’s a tendency for things to turn on its head quickly. One moment you’re bickering with Luke over how he could have a boner in a situation as dire as this, and then the next you’re letting him sweet talk you. Before you and Percy encountered Luke and Annabeth, you were tougher according to Percy. You were less likely to give into stupid plans, more likely to think for longer before making a decision. More logical. 

You didn’t believe Percy when he claimed Luke had changed that about you. But maybe there was some truth to his accusation, because there was no one else in the world other than Luke Castellan who could have convinced you to do this right now. 

It’s so fucking stupid. You’re too young, too responsible for lives other than your own, too clueless, and too many other things to even be considering this. But you’re more than considering, your arms pressed against the door and your legs spread for Luke who is situated between them from behind. You’re going to let him do this, because you want it as much as he does.

Besides, it’s just the tip. 

“Ready?” he whispers. You nod. 

He has his flashlight turned onto the lowest setting and diffused through his shirt, providing just enough illumination for him to see your backside. He takes a breath, you take a breath, and you breathe out together. At that same time Luke nudges forward and pushes the tip of his cock into your cunt. 

You don’t mean to gasp, but you do. Luke has one hand on your hip holding you steady and he uses his thumb to rub circles into your skin, nonverbally telling you to relax. You do as told, but not much relaxing is needed before Luke stops, pulls back out, and does it again. 

The sun might have gone down, but the heat is still there. It clings to your skin, creating a sticky film that you want nothing more than to wash away. Unfortunately, it only multiplies whenever Luke begins to fuck you (is that what he’s doing?) a little faster. It feels so good, but it’s not nearly enough. You know that more length creates more possibilities. More danger for a massive mistake to occur. But you aren’t thinking straight when you push back during Luke’s next thrust, sheathing more of his cock into you with one motion that catches him off guard. 

He grunts, a painful sounding groan that comes out strangled. Instantly, both of you stop. You wait. You listen. And you feel Luke so intimately, just situated inside of you like this, unmoving. He fills you up in ways you could have only imagined. Luke rolls his hips into yours. You don’t know if he means to do it, but he does, and it feels so good that your eyes are rolling back into your skull and you’re starting to fuck yourself back onto Luke, walkers be damned. 

You both manage to control your noises from your mouths, but where the two of you are conjoined is a whole different story. The sounds are loud—sloppy squelches of your arousal coating Luke’s dick, squeezing out onto him from how tight your entrance is. There’s a loud clap when your ass hits Luke’s hips, and it only stops when Luke holds you still and fucks you himself. But like this he isn’t going deeper, he isn’t going all the way, and you understand that it’s too loud when he goes all the way in but you need it so bad. 

Luke can get so deep within you. Granted you haven’t had sex for a long time, but god it feels like the first time. Minus the excessive discomfort and awkwardness. 

When Luke slips in all the way once more, you can feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s just so good and so worth it. 

Letting Luke come stay with you and Percy was so worth it. Compromising your rules and adopting some of his was so worth it. Embarrassingly fucking yourself on your fingers when you knew Percy and Annabeth were outside, leaving you and Luke alone was so worth it. Even this fucking supply run gone wrong was worth it. Because it all got you here, nails digging into the painted metal of the janitor closet door while you let Luke fuck you way deeper than just the tip. 

He’s close. He doesn’t have to tell you such for you to know. He’s clicked his flashlight off by now, leaving you both surrounded in darkness. He whispers, “Touch yourself”. And you do. 

When you flutter around his cock with an impending orgasm, Luke pulls out, fists himself, and spurts cum onto your ass while you’re coming down. 

Your heavy breaths heat up the room as Luke wipes your backside with something that you think is his shirt, and then he blindly helps pull your pants up. Your panties end up a little twisted so you fix them yourself before doing the best that you can to turn around. 

“Time?” 

Luke clicks his flashlight on for a second and you see how flustered he is. Eyes wide, hair sticking to his forehead, tanned cheeks redder than usual. You wonder how you look. 

“10:43.” 

“Leave at first daylight?” 

He grunts an affirmative reply and clicks the light back off, leaving you both submerged in the darkness, locked in a room, with nothing else to do for a few hours. You entertain yourselves in the best ways that you can.