#um yeah I changed the time of day completely because..

[skullzy20]

Was gonna draw this as a cute "oh he's on a date with his boyfriend and he looks all pretty with the sunlight shining through the leaves" but then I got a bit ahead of myself

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Heartslabyul

Go here for other dorms

Riddle Rosehearts

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you approach Riddle. He’s seated in the Heartslabyul garden, engrossed in a book, completely unaware that his life is about to change forever.

Your hands are sweating. Fantastic. Nothing says “I love you” like handing someone a heart-shaped box drenched in pure nervousness.

“Riddle,” you say, voice admirably steady despite the chaos in your soul.

He looks up, eyes widening slightly at your presence. “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

You very calmly thrust the box toward him like a knight presenting a sacred relic. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I made this for you.”

The change is immediate.

Riddle freezes, his entire face flaring up like a traffic light on its final warning. His fingers twitch as he hesitantly accepts the box, staring at it as if you’d just handed him the crown of a foreign kingdom.

“You… made this? For me?” His voice is slightly higher than usual. The poor guy is barely holding it together.

You nod, feeling your heart slam against your ribs. “Yeah. And, um… I like you. A lot.”

For a second, you’re terrified he might actually faint. His ears are burning, his posture unnaturally stiff as he processes your words in real time. You can practically see the gears in his head jamming.

Then, slowly, carefully, he sets the box on the table beside him, takes a breath, and stands.

And before you can react, he takes your hand in his, bows slightly, and presses the lightest, most delicate kiss against your knuckles.

It’s so soft. So warm. So utterly, devastatingly polite—yet scandalously romantic—that your brain completely short-circuits.

He lifts his gaze to yours, still impossibly red but full of something achingly genuine. “I… accept your feelings,” he murmurs, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “And I—I… I like you as well."

You’re gone. This is too much. His flustered sincerity should not be this cute.

Riddle clears his throat, attempting to compose himself—but he absolutely fails because his blush is creeping down his neck now. “A-Anyway. Shall we have tea together? I’d… like to enjoy this properly.”

You nod, still speechless.

Somehow, this went even better than expected.

Trey Clover

You’re standing in an empty classroom, clutching your carefully wrapped box of chocolates like it’s a lifeline. The room is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock and the absolute hurricane of nerves raging inside you.

Trey stands across from you, looking as effortlessly cool and put-together as ever, the picture of someone who probably never panics over something as simple as chocolate. Which is unfair, actually, because you’ve been agonizing over this moment.

“I, uh…” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I made these for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Trey blinks in surprise before his expression softens into something warm. “Oh?” He takes the box with careful hands, like it’s something precious. “You made these yourself?”

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to watch him open it, your stomach twisting into a knot. “Yeah. I know they’re probably not as good as what you make, but—”

“You’re nervous.”

You flinch when you feel the lightest touch under your chin, his fingers tilting your face up. You hadn’t even noticed him stepping closer.

Your breath catches when you meet his eyes. They’re so gentle, full of something soft and unreadable, and suddenly, this moment feels a lot bigger than just some chocolates.

“You really think I’d compare this to something I bake?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing just below your eyes before dropping away. “You made this for me. That alone makes it special.”

Your heart is going through it.

“I—” You swallow, trying to gather your thoughts before you combust. “Trey, I like you. That’s… that’s why I wanted to do this.”

There’s a small pause. And then—his smile.

It’s real, not his usual easygoing grin but something genuine, touched, and just a little bit shy.

“I like you too,” he says, his voice warm as honey.

Oh. Oh.

You barely have time to process it before he straightens up, still holding the chocolates in one hand while the other slides into his pocket. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the door. “Let me walk you back.”

You blink. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” His smile quirks at the edges, teasing now. “Gotta make sure you don’t run off before I can ask you out properly, right?”

Your heart is doomed.

Cater Diamond

You find Cater in a quiet hallway between classes, leaning against the wall and idly scrolling through his phone. The second he notices you approaching, he perks up, flashing you an easy grin.

"Hey, hey! Fancy seeing you here." His eyes flicker down to the heart-shaped box in your hands, and his grin turns teasing. "Ooooh, what’s this? Someone’s got a Valentine?”

Your stomach is doing backflips. But you force yourself to hold out the box, pretending you’re not dying inside.

“For you,” you manage, voice steady despite the heat creeping up your neck.

Cater blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful energy pauses, just for a second.

“For me?” His voice is light, but there’s something in it—something careful. “Like… me, me?”

You nod, heart hammering. “Yeah. I like you, Cater. That’s… why I made them.”

And for the first time ever, you see Cater Diamond speechless.

He just stands there, staring at you like you’ve just told him the greatest plot twist of the century. Then, all at once, his grin returns—brighter, realer, and just a little bit unsteady.

“You’re serious?” He lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “Like, you—out of everyone—actually like me?”

“Obviously?” You shift the box toward him, raising a brow. “You gonna take these or what?”

The teasing snaps him out of it, and he laughs, reaching forward to grab the chocolates and, in the same movement, presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Your brain blue-screens.

“There,” he says, still grinning as he pulls back. “A little thank-you for totally making my day.”

You open your mouth—whether to yell, combust, or actually form words, you’re not sure—but he’s already linking his arm with yours, spinning you both toward the exit.

“Sooo, where do you wanna go for our first date?”

“What—wait, first date?”

“Duh!” He holds up the chocolates with a wink. “You confess, I accept, we date—it’s the natural order of things.”

An absolute success.

Ace Trappola

You don’t even get the chance to find Ace before Ace finds you.

"Whoa, what’s this?" His voice is all mock innocence as he suddenly appears at your side, eyes locked onto the box of chocolates in your hands. He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like he’s just witnessed a scandal unfold. "No way. You? Giving out chocolates? Some poor soul's gonna get victimized today."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Victimized?"

"Yeah, y'know—" He gestures vaguely, rocking back on his heels. "Swept up, led on, utterly ruined for anyone else. Tragic, really."

He’s dying of jealousy. You can see it. Feel it. Smell it in the air like cheap cologne.

You roll your eyes, already fed up. "Well, if you’re so concerned, maybe I should just eat them myself."

Ace laughs. "What, you’d steal your own chocolates? That’s cold."

"Not really, considering they were meant for you."

Silence.

Ace stares at you, frozen mid-smirk. His brain just blue-screened. You can see the processing bar loading at 2% completion.

"...Huh?"

You sigh, shifting the box in your hands. "I made them for you, dumbass. But if you don’t want them, I guess—"

You don’t get to finish that sentence because suddenly, Ace is clutching the box to his chest like it’s the last treasure on earth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up—who said I didn’t want them? I want them!" He’s grinning now, the brightest, cockiest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen on him. "You serious? You really made these for me?"

You cross your arms. "Yeah. But you’re being a brat, so I kinda regret it now."

"Nah, too late! No take-backs!" He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. Then—softer, realer, a little bit breathless— "You really like me, huh?"

You hesitate, suddenly flustered under the weight of his gaze. "...Yeah."

His fingers tighten around the box. "Good. 'Cause I like you too."

Your breath catches.

Ace tilts his head, there’s a warmth in his eyes now—something soft, relieved, like he’s been waiting for this. "Thought you’d never notice, y’know? Been here the whole time, just waiting."

You scoff, rolling your eyes to cover how fast your heart is beating. "And yet you were so ready to tease me about it."

"Of course!" He throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. "What kinda boyfriend would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little?"

"Boyfriend?!"

"Uh, yeah? You confessed, I accepted, now you’re stuck with me forever. Basic math."

Mission accomplished (You think?)

Deuce Spade

It’s just another casual hangout, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’ve been hiding behind your back like it’s a live explosive.

Deuce is sitting on your couch, totally unaware of the internal chaos happening mere feet away. He’s relaxed, chatting about his day, but the second you clear your throat and step forward, he pauses mid-sentence, sensing danger.

"Uh… you good?" he asks, blinking up at you.

"Yeah. Fine. Totally normal." You inhale, ignore the full-body cringe threatening to consume you, and hold out the box. "This is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day."

Deuce freezes. Like, actually freezes.

His eyes dart between you and the chocolates like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t some cruel prank. His hands are shaking just a little when he reaches out, carefully accepting the box like it might disappear if he blinks too fast.

"You—" His voice cracks, and he immediately clears his throat, ears burning red. "You made these? For me?"

You nod, trying so hard to play it cool. "Yeah. I like you, so… yeah."

For a second, nothing happens. Then—his grin.

It’s shy, just a little wobbly, but so ridiculously bright that your stomach does a full gymnastics routine.

"You… like me," he repeats, as if he needs to say it out loud to believe it.

"Unless you don’t want them, in which case, I can just—"

"No!" He clutches the box to his chest like it’s his most prized possession. "No way, I—I want them. I just—" He exhales, a little breathless, still grinning like an idiot. "I can’t believe this is happening."

You barely have time to process that before he straightens up, determination flickering in his eyes.

"Can I—" He swallows. "Can I take you on a date? I mean, since you—since we—" He gestures vaguely at the chocolates, too flustered to form a proper sentence.

You laugh, heart so stupidly full. "Yeah, Deuce. I’d love that."

His breath catches. Then he nods—fast, like he’s locking it in before reality can take it away. "O-Okay. Cool. Great. I’ll—I'll plan something good, I promise."

You grin. "I’d expect nothing less."

Deuce beams.

He looks down at the chocolates again, still holding them like the most precious thing in the world.

And honestly? You think this might be the best decision you’ve ever made.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[wintersportal]

uh shifting storytime cus i just shifted back????

I shifted to a parallel reality of Hogwarts. this must feel nostalgic for yall huh?

this was actually so funny to me because in my earlier days of shifting, the same scenario would happen to me whether I was meditating, sleeping at night, or napping, because I would always end up in some parallel reality of Hogwarts. whether I wanted to go there or not, I’d always end up there. which is extra funny because I don’t even recall most of the plot line for the movie or even my script for that DR.

prior to shifting

I got comfortable in bed, played some classical music, and entered the void pretty quickly. I said my affirmations, got all floaty and of course my body would start to twitch. whenever I noticed myself straining during my affirmations or trying to visualize every single detail perfectly, I would change my breathing to stabilize and remember to fall into it rather than force it to happen. this technique has helped me drastically.

the shift

suddenly I was in a beautiful corridor directly in front of the golden trio. this wasn’t even a type of lucid dream. I had woken up during my meditation multiple times and continued it during every interruption. kind of like when you wake up from a dream and try to go back to it except doing this had stabilized me.(wbtb wink wink 😉) I was completely aware of the reality. I stood there. I heard them and I heard myself. also, hair was SOO TEAAA because it was long, smooth, and down to my waist, but that’s besides the point.

personally during my actual lucid dreams, I like to manifest something magical to happen just by my thoughts alone, and when I tried it, it didn’t happen. they were in the middle of something dangerous, and I didn’t want to be involved so I booted myself out of there. and by that I mean I saw people running so I ran with them, and who do I see when I turn my head? Voldemort. this is when I actually booted myself out out of there and shifted back to my CR cus hell naur.

but um yeah i was highly unprepared and scared soooo hi yes happy shifting yall.

[kxsagi]

Me Me I REALLY LIKE THE WAY YOU WRITE ABAKSJAJAJA I LOVE IT SO MUCH JWBWKAKAKQ OF COURSE LOVE YOU TOO 🫶🏻🥺💖💝um... I want ask for the bllk boys' kids to say that the kid admires someone other than them, or their cute little daughter to say that she wants to marry their coworker in the future and not her dad.

“𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐥𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧”

a/n: AHHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU TOO FOREVER AND ALWAYS BAE 💖🤞🙈 HOPE YOU LIKE IT

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, kunigami rensuke, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

“i wanna be like uncle rin! he’s sooo cool!” 

he blinks. then again. then he goes completely still like he’s buffering. “… uncle rin?” 

suddenly he’s on his knees, hands on his son’s shoulders, eyes wide with hurt. “but– but i taught you how to dribble.” 

“yeah, but uncle rin doesn’t even smile when he scores, that’s sick.” 

oh the betrayal. 

isagi dramatically flops face-first into the couch like a shakespearean widow. his son is confused. you’re trying not to laugh. 

later, he’s training harder than ever. 

“love, i’m gonna reinvent my image. cold. emotionless. lethal.” 

“yoichi–” 

“don’t call me that. call me dad, but like rin.” 

he sulks until your son tells him, “i changed my mind. i wanna be like dad when i grow up.” 

“say it again.” “i wanna be like dad.” “LOUDER.” “DAD!!!” “THAT’S MY BOY!!!” 

itoshi sae

“i’m gonna marry uncle nagi when i grow up!! he’s cool and plays games with me!!” 

he literally just stands there, blinking slowly like a cat. you can almost see the disappointment on his face render in 4k. 

“nagi? seishiro nagi? he’s a man-child.” “he lets me sit on his shoulders when we play tag!” “he can’t even tie his own shoes.” 

he immediately texts nagi in the group chat: [10:24 AM] sae: you’re banned from my house [10:24 AM] nagi: ?? [10:25 AM] sae: you’re corrupting my daughter [10:26 AM] nagi: idk what that means but she’s fun [10:27 AM] sae: blocked. 

the next time nagi visits, sae is stone-faced and stiff, holding his daughter in his arms the whole time like a guard dog. 

“you can’t marry nagi,” he mutters in her ear. “why not, daddy?” “… he doesn’t believe in taxes.” 

she ends up saying, “then i’ll just marry daddy!” 

he smirks at nagi. “good choice.” 

itoshi rin

“i wanna be just like uncle kaiser!! he’s awesome and has gold and blue hair and funny teeth!!” 

rin is offended. not surprised. not confused. offended. 

“funny teeth? funny teeth? they’re normal white straight teeth. and it’s not even a natural blue. he dyes it.” “he said his hair is made of sunbeams!!” 

rin scoffs and mutters under his breath: “this is your fault.” you: “… how is it my fault?” “you’re the one who let him meet kaiser in the first place.” 

he starts showing his son his highlight reels. “watch this. i broke his ankles once. made him cry. it was beautiful.” 

your son just goes, “yeah, but uncle kaiser smells like candy.” “that’s hair bleach, dumbass–” you slap his arm. 

rin sulks for the rest of the week. 

eventually, your son switches to, “daddy’s the coolest,” because rin bribes him with blue raspberry popsicles. desperate times. 

kaiser michael

“i wanna marry uncle ness!! he’s so cute and has pretty eyes and he always gives me snacks!” 

dead silence. 

kaiser slowly turns his head toward you like he’s possessed. “… did she just say ness?” 

he crouches down to your daughter’s height, fake smiling. “baby, you don’t wanna marry ness. he gets nosebleeds when he’s nervous.” “so? he said i’m his special princess.” “he says that to me, too!” 

he storms into practice the next day. “ness. you. stop giving my daughter snacks. stop calling her ‘my little cinnamon drop.’ i will report you to child services.” 

ness is sweating. “i was just being nice!” 

kaiser squints. “you’re trying to steal her from me.” 

he starts sabotaging ness by hiding all his hair products before games. 

later that night, your daughter cuddles up next to kaiser and says, “daddy, you’re the best boy in the world.” 

he melts instantly. “yes, baby. ness who?” 

kunigami rensuke

“i wanna marry uncle shidou! he lets me ride on his back and he roars like a lion!!” 

kunigami chokes on his protein shake. “SHIDOU?!” 

your daughter’s giggling in a princess dress and plush heels, swinging her feet as she talks about how “uncle shidou’s soooo funny and strong and he said i can be queen of the jungle if i want!” 

he immediately texts shidou: [3:03 PM] kunigami: stay away from my daughter [3:03 PM] shidou: lol why [3:04 PM] kunigami: she said she wants to marry you [3:04 PM] shidou: LMAOOO sounds like a skill issue 

he turns to you in complete distress. “how the hell am i supposed to compete with someone who barks for fun?!” 

kunigami starts taking your daughter to the gym with him. “this is the weight room. muscles are cooler than barking.” “but uncle shidou said barking is powerful.” “uncle shidou also drinks ketchup packets like juice. he is not a good role model.” 

she ends up picking kunigami again after he buys her a lion plushie and names it “sir roars-a-lot.” 

bachira meguru

“i wanna be like uncle reo! he smells like flowers and lets me play dress-up!” 

bachira freezes mid-spin, his son piggybacked on his shoulders. “what did you just say?” 

“uncle reo is sparkly. i wanna be sparkly, too!” 

bachira gasps like he’s been stabbed. “am i not sparkly enough?! what about all our monster drawings?!” “uncle reo has glitter. and nail polish.” 

bachira pulls you aside. “babe. we need to up our fashion game. we’re losing him to rich people glam.” 

next thing you know, he’s bedazzling his shin guards and showing up to school pickup in eyeliner and gold studs. 

reo just sips his smoothie like, “i win.” 

later, your son returns to his senses. “i changed my mind. dad’s sparkly and cool.” 

bachira cries a little. “my son. my heir. my glitter boy.” 

mikage reo

“i wanna marry uncle nagi ‘cause he’s super smart and he naps with me!!” 

“... excuse me?” reo’s eye is twitching. 

he just dropped a whole paycheck on matching father-daughter outfits for family photo day. he’s the best dressed man in kindergarten pickup history. and this is the thanks he gets? 

“uncle nagi doesn’t even pay taxes. i do your hair. i cook your snacks. i pay your tuition!” 

you’re like “reo, baby, breathe.” 

reo lies like “no. i’m fine. i’m just gonna lie here. like a broke peasant. because apparently money means nothing anymore.” 

he tries to outdo nagi by turning every activity into a glam bonding moment. “let’s go get spa treatments, princess. daddy’s paying. the whole mall. just for us.” 

your daughter, sipping her juice box: “but uncle nagi bought me gummy worms…” 

reo’s heart is breaking. 

he wins her back when he gives her a glittery tiara and says, “you’re my little heiress.” 

“can uncle nagi give you your own kingdom? didn’t think so.” 

nagi seishiro

“i wanna be just like uncle isagi! he works hard and never naps!” 

“huh???” 

nagi stares at his son like he’s never seen him before. “you… want to be conscious all day?” 

your kid nods eagerly. “uncle isagi said hard work is everything!” 

“gross.” 

he texts isagi: [9:08 PM] nagi: stop brainwashing my son [9:08 PM] isagi: i just said sleep is important but dedication matters [9:09 PM] nagi: he said naps are for losers [9:10 PM] isagi: YOU said that about water breaks in training 

nagi sulks the whole day and refuses to get out of bed. he lays on the couch with his hoodie over his face like a moody sea slug. 

you try to cheer him up: “baby, don’t be sad.” 

“i got replaced by someone who voluntarily wakes up before 10 AM.” 

but he wins his son back by saying: “fine. guess i’ll nap alone…” “NOOO DAD, WAIT, I’LL NAP TOO!!” 

shidou ryusei

“when i grow up, i wanna be just like uncle sae! he’s so cool and serious and smart and he never yells like you do!” 

shidou is frozen. mouth slightly open. one eye twitching. “… like who.” 

“uncle sae!! he’s amazing!! he has pretty eyes and he talks so calm and he said my drawing was ‘not bad.’ that means he likes it, right???” 

you watch as shidou physically short-circuits. because like, yeah, he gets it. he knows. he’s been mentally writing fanfiction about that man since the first time sae insulted his haircut. 

but this??? this is betrayal. 

“you wanna be like sae? what’s next, you gonna start ignoring people on purpose and wear turtlenecks???” 

your son nods proudly: “i already practiced my death stare in the mirror!!” 

shidou dramatically collapses on the couch. “this is the worst day of my life. my own flesh and blood… defecting to team itoshi.” 

you’re like “baby, aren’t you literally obsessed with sae?” “YEAH, BUT THAT’S DIFFERENT.” “how.” “i’m allowed. he’s mine.” 

he drags his sulky self to practice and corners sae like: “yo. i need you to stop being hot and mysterious around my kid.” sae: “i literally said two words.” “exactly. you’re too powerful.” 

later that day, your son tells shidou, “don’t worry, daddy. i’ll still visit you when i’m famous like uncle sae.” but then his son adds, “but i won’t marry him! he’s too busy!” 

and shidou perks up immediately. “good. ‘cause if anyone’s marrying sae, it’s me.” 

he immediately earns a “what 🧍” from you and his son. 

karasu tabito

“i wanna be like uncle aiku when i grow up! he’s soooo cool and all the girls like him!!” 

karasu freezes in the middle of brushing his teeth. spits. turns around. stares. 

“… what did you just say.” 

“uncle aiku said when you grow tall, you get girls.” 

“he did not.” 

karasu immediately bends down and rants to his son like he’s talking to a guy at the bar: “look, man. i know aiku seems cool, but he’s like 90% hair product and fake confidence. you wanna be a real man? do taxes. take multivitamins. own tupperware.” 

“but uncle aiku said abs are better than taxes.” 

“yeah? i say abs are lies.” 

he goes to work the next day and yells across the locker room: “HEY AIKU. STAY AWAY FROM MY KID.” 

aiku: “what’d i do??” 

karasu: “you’re poisoning his mind with your tall energy and hair gel!” 

to win his son back, karasu starts saying “no cap,” “rizz,” and “chopped.”  his son: “dad, please stop, you’re embarrassing me.” karasu: “see? i’m cool again.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[wosospacegirl]

fever - kika nazareth

Summary: Kika is sick, and Y/n is falling in love

Word count: 1.2k

Masterlist

a/n: This is a schedule post. I had this fic lying around, but I forgot in what doc it was 💀💀💀

..

It started at training.

Kika had shown up looking ridiculously good–her hair in a messy ponytail, flushed cheeks, sleeves pushed up, all effortless and pretty and… hot. Like, really hot.

Y/n had genuinely stopped in the middle of a rondo to stare. Pina even smacked the back of her head when she lost possession of the ball to the other team… but Y/n couldn’t help it. It had been four whole days since she’d last seen Kika.

Kika had gone on a trip back to Portugal to see her family. She got some time off and decided to enjoy it back in her homeland.

Unfortunately, Kika didn’t think about how much it would affect Y/n… poor girl was getting sadder and sadder each day.

“She looks so pretty,” Y/n whispered to Alexia during their water break, eyes fixed across the pitch as Kika talked with the manager.

“Um… no,” Alexia muttered back. “She looks like she’s about to pass out.”

Y/n blinked. “What?”

But before Y/n could make sense of that, Kika began coughing–a lot. Romeu even put a hand on her back, either for comfort or to actually help.

And then came the sneezes. Y/n counted seven, while Alexia counted eight.

When Kika was done, the tips of her ears were red and her forehead was shiny with sweat, as if coughing and sneezing had taken a toll on her body.

“Flu season,” Alexia said. “She’s probably burning up.”

Y/n, still in complete denial, shook her head. “Nah. She just has... allergies.”

“She just sneezed again,” Alexia said, deadpan, pointing to Kika, who’d just been handed a paper towel to clean her nose.

“I think it was more like a… new form of communication she’s trying.”

“Her neck is red.”

“She’s just—radiating energy.”

“Nena,” Alexia said, now more impatient. “She’s not radiating energy. She’s radiating a fever.”

Y/n gave one last look at Kika, and yeah… she looked bad. The assistant managers had just walked her off the pitch into the hallway that led to the locker room. Guess no training for Kikinha today.

The reason Y/n absolutely didn’t want to believe Kika was sick?

They were supposed to have a date today.

Not a romantic one–just… casual.

A friends-with-benefits-who-are-hungry-and-go-out-to-an-Italian-place kind of date.

But now that Kika seemed to have lost one of her lungs, it looked like those plans were about to change.

Y/n ended up volunteering–casually, definitely not suspiciously–to check in on Kika for the rest of the team.

Kika didn’t even argue when Y/n knocked on the door and let herself into the locker room.

She was slumped on the bench, hoodie pulled over her training kit, legs curled up under her like a sleepy cat.

Her nose was pink. Her eyes looked glassy. Her hair was still in that hot, messy ponytail.

“Hi,” Y/n said, trying to sound casual. Normal. Not worried. Not in love.

Kika sniffled. “Hi.” Her voice was so raspy it made Y/n wince.

“You dying?”

“No, I’m fine,” Kika mumbled, swaying a little as she stood in front of her locker. 

“You’re not,” Y/n said, one hand hovering behind her back in case she stumbled again. “And you’re, like, weirdly warm. I thought it was because you looked… good. But I think you’re just ill.”

Kika gave her a sleepy smile. “You thought I looked good?”

Y/n, tragically, had no comeback. Not a single sarcastic one. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s a little bit the point,” Kika teased, before groaning and pressing a hand to her head.

“You’ve been gone for four days,” Y/n mumbled, brushing a hand over Kika’s back. “I was gonna take you out tonight.”

“Ugh,” Kika groaned. “The pasta.”

“I know. I had my outfit picked and everything.”

Kika sniffled again, tugging Y/n’s sleeve and curling into her more. “I can still go.”

“You can’t even stand.”

“Carry me?”

“No.”

“Piggyback?”

“No.”

“Stretcher?”

Y/n laughed soflty. “You’re delirious.”

Kika turned her face into Y/n’s shoulder. “I’m touch-starved and flu-ridden.”

“I’m taking you home” Y/n finally said, helping her sit up. “No training. No pasta. Just meds, soup, and me bossing you around.”

“Hot,” Kika whispered.

“You are hot,” Y/n mumbled, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Let’s make a quick stop at the infirmary.”

The nurse confirmed it–Kika had a fever of 38.4°C and was sent home with strict instructions to rest.

Y/n, ever the idiot-in-love, offered to stay with her. You know… in case she fell or needed something.

..

That night, Kika was curled up on the sofa with a blanket over her legs, hair messy and cheeks pink, sniffling into a tissue and blinking up at Y/n like she’d never been more adorable.

“Still think I’m hot?” she croaked, voice all raspy.

Y/n handed her water with pink ears. “Honestly? You’re sweating and your nose is red and I think I’m even more into you.”

Kika smiled so softly it made Y/n’s chest ache. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Y/n said. “And you’re sick.”

Kika was not usually clingy.  At least, not like this.

Normally, she was composed and soft-spoken–the kind of affectionate that snuck up on you: gentle touches, shy smiles, casual thigh presses on the bench.

But whatever virus had taken over her body had apparently also overridden her emotional regulation.

Because now she was sprawled across Y/n’s lap like a cat, sniffly and half-asleep, one arm wrapped stubbornly around her waist.

“I don’t wanna move,” she mumbled, nuzzling into Y/n’s hoodie like it was a pillow. “You’re comfy.”

Y/n blinked at the wall, hands hovering awkwardly above her. “Okay but… I need to pee.”

“No,” Kika said firmly, burrowing closer. “Stay.”

“This isn’t fair,” Y/n muttered. “You’re burning up, you’re sweaty, and you still smell good. How is that even possible?”

Kika just made a sleepy little noise and tightened her grip.

Y/n had never taken care of a sick person before. She was the one who usually got looked after–stubborn and grumpy when ill, but quietly appreciating the attention.

This?

This clingy, feverish Kika who wanted nothing but popcorn–for some unknown reason–cuddles, and her presence at all times? She didn’t know what to do with it.

“Should I, like… make soup?” Y/n asked out loud.

Kika whined. “No, I don’t like soup.”

“I think sick people need soup, though.”

“Don’t go.”

“I have to get up and make something for you to eat, bebé–like real food.”

“No.”

Kika pulled the blanket up over both of them and held her tighter. “Soup later. You now.”

Y/n’s heart physically ached. “You’re so clingy,” she whispered, brushing sweaty hair off Kika’s forehead. “I didn’t know you got like this when you get sick.”

She ended up texting Alexia, after 30 minutes of staying perfectly still while Kika clung to her even more.

Y/n: what do i do when she’s sick and clingy and adorable and i think i might die

Alexia: You hold her and kiss her dumb forehead and accept your fate.

Y/n: I dont think i ever got to this part before

Alexia: welcome to being in love

Y/n stared at the screen, then at the girl drooling slightly on her hoodie. 

Yeah. She was doomed.

..

Hope you guys liked it!! <3

[dex0s]

—♡DOUMA X MALE READER WARNING: smut, non-con, cannibalism?, douma, reader having a huge chest, thoracic area called boobs/tits, daddy kink, face sitting, breeding kink, semi-public?, incest?, cliffhanger ending (only because I’m lazy), not proof read

A/N— okay I know I was gone for like 2 months but um— yeah

You were a member of his cult and your older sister got sick to the point she had to stay in bed instead of praying to your demon lord. For the past couple days you had been asking your lord to heal your sister. And at first DOUMA was uninterested or just ignored you but then he got a full look at you. (H/c) hair, beautiful bright (e/c) eyes, nice face, well shaped body, and lastly YOUR CHEST. Oh and how he was so in love.

“Oh look a new play thing. Just. For. Me~ and ONLY me~”

After that you notice changes. One, Douma would ONLY look at you if you in the room but the moment you leave his face becomes disinterested (even if he doesn’t have emotions he feels like his life just decrease by a life time). Two, you ALWAYS feel like you’re being watched no matter what you doing or where you are, there are always RAINBOW EYES watching. And three, when you go and pray to your lord you can notice the lust in his eyes like a predator eyeing their next meal.

“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed you sooner… I wonder if that man will let me keep you~ who know maybe I will quit bugging him~”

Knowing damn well that man can hear him

One time you went to douma and asked for his blessing so your sister could get better and by pure coincidence your sister gotten better and could move around better then before. You thanked douma for the blessing but even tho it was a complete coincidence douma wanted more than just a thanks. He gave you his blessing and healed your sister. He wants more and he will get want he wants whether you want it or not .

HaAh~ Oh you tastes Sooo~ good~ Your so good—Fuck! for daddy~

Grinding your hips into the pillow while Douma is thrusting in and out your ass. “Ahh~ you look like dog when you do that~” Douma said, moving his hand up your body and stopping at your chest. “W-wait~AH!” Slamming his cock back in he starts to grope your chest. “Hmm! What a— good boy you are, so good— for daddy” you start to feel yourself about to release and you try to warn your lord but all that came out was babbles. Douma seem to notice this and started to go even harder on you hearing your gummy walls take him in and out and all the noise you were making made him even more hard then white sticky cum came out your dick but that didn’t stop Douma in fact he decided to switch it up a lot bit.

He lifts you over his face, your legs are shaking then slams you down on his face. Taking his long slimy tongue starting with kitty licks, suddenly roughly gripping your thighs and full on eating your ass like there’s no tomorrow. When the door opens (you didn’t even notice at first) it reveals your sister. Your sister was in shock, she didn’t know you had a side like this. Hearing your moans and the licks your sister can feel a wet spot in her undergarment. While your sister was standing there Douma could smell her wetness and started to get upset.

“Why is she here.”

“She needs to leave can’t she see I’m playing with my plaything.”

“It’s her fault he’s in this situation”

“She shouldn’t be so selfish and get sick”

“You know what… It’s show time”

Taking out his tongue from your ass, he moves you to his lap. Picking you up with your legs wrapped around his waist Douma starts to walk to your sister. “You know it’s rude to stare” using one of his free hands and roughly grabbing your sister’s chin forcing her to look at his rainbow eyes. “W-what are you doing to my brother!” Yelled out your sister that was trying to force Douma’s hand off of her and trying to reach for you, when Douma grabs the hand that was reaching for you and pulling it off her body. Finally snapping out the trance you hear a bloody cuddling scream. Turning your head around to see your sister on the ground clutching her shoulder but before you can say anything you were placed on the ground on all fours in front of your sister.

“Why don’t we put a show on for your sister~ hmm dear~”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R Part Two

Part One | Part Three

Notes: Hi welcome to part two okay love you bye

Not beta-read.

Warnings: Angst; fluff; all that good stuff

Summary: You can’t remember the last time you and Robby were this close. 

“You got any more lightbulbs in here that need changing?” 

You lean in the doorway of the living room, watching Robby unscrew the old bulb and toss it onto the couch before lifting his hand to screw in the new one. 

“I don’t think so. Unless you wanna go around and change a few preemptively.” 

“Think we’ll just stick with this one for now.” 

You bite your lip, glancing down at your bandaged hand and picking at a stray strand. 

“How was the rest of your shift?” 

“Oh, fine. You know.” 

But you still don’t. You bite your lip, fighting back the argument as you pick at another stray strand. 

“How’s the hand feeling?” 

“Oh, fine. You know.” 

You shoot him a coy smile at his sidelong glance. He shakes his head as he turns his attention back to the light, fitting the fixture back over the bulb. He climbs down from the step ladder, folding it, and leaning it against the bookshelf. 

“Where was that, anyway?” You ask, nodding toward it. 

“In the basement.” 

“Ah. I don’t go down there much.” 

“Yeah, the film of dust gave that away.” 

Your smile widens at the tease, then falters as he turns away, dusting off his hands. 

“Alright. I should head out.”

Your stomach twists as he straightens, heading for the door, and where he left his bag. “Oh?” You fight to keep your tone even as you straighten up. “I ordered pizza. Should be here soon if you’re hungry.”

“You’ll have leftovers.”

“Sure! Sure.” You tuck your hands into your back pockets, wandering after him as he reaches for his bag. “I could just um…Wrap it in foil…Stick it in the back of the fridge…Forget it’s there for a few days until I inevitably remember that it’s in there on Friday. Nuke it, gobble down a couple of slices, give myself food poisoning, and then I’ll, uh…” You smile as he turns to face you again. “I’ll see you back in the ER.”

--

“Does it bother you that they still call me that?”

“Call you what?” 

“Mrs. R.”

You catch the slight delay in his movement, the pause in raising his beer to his lips. His eyes stay set on the tv, and you watch the flash and flare of the screen's glow lighten and shade his face. For as long a day as he’s had, it should be easier to read his expression—or maybe you’re more out of practice than you realized.

But you know that he heard it. It’s not as if he can pretend that he didn’t hear Evans or Langdon say it. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when they’d had though not for lack of trying. 

“Why would it bother me?” He finally asks.

“Because we’re not married anymore.”

“You change your name yet?” 

You turn back to the tv as Robby’s head turns. It’s your turn to fall silent, to take a sip from your beer. 

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” It’s the lamest of excuses. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the entire truth, either. You hear Robby huff a soft laugh through his nose, and you can’t help the embarrassment that pulses through you. You push the feeling down, leaning forward and setting down your beer.

"You want that last slice?” You glance toward him and find his lips pursed. He wants to say no, but you’re positive he barely had anything to eat that day.

“You wanna split it?” You correct, already taking up a knife to cut it down the middle. 

“If you really want it, you can—”

“Oh, shut up and eat the slice, Robinavitch,” You lean back, holding it out and raising your own slice to your mouth. 

“Half slice.” 

“You’re way too particular for this late in the day. Did you get all hangry on the ducklings?” 

“...Not on the ducklings.” 

Your brows rose at the admission as you tore off a piece of the crust, popping it into your mouth. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked after a moment. 

“Nope.” 

Figures. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be wholly disappointed. But he’d come over, he’d changed your lightbulb. He’d stayed. Months of not seeing one another and now this. It felt like two steps forward and one step back…Though, for what it was worth, that was still one step forward. 

--  

You chalk it up to muscle memory. A late-night hazy wake up, an infomercial droning on the tv, and Robby's head in your lap. You manage to nudge him up, shut the television off, and find his hand to lead him to your bedroom. He doesn't gripe or grumble. His movements seem as automatic as he strips down to his underwear and climbs into bed with you, each on your own sides. 

You think, as you sink into the pillows, that you’re almost glad Robby is too tired to gripe or argue that he should be going back to his place. 

And you think, as sleep takes full hold of you, that you feel his hand curl around yours under the sheets. 

-- 

You wake up to the steady thump of Robby’s heart beneath your ear, and the rise and fall of his belly beneath your arm. You don’t open your eyes for a few moments—you don’t dare. You can’t remember the last time you and Robby were this close. 

For the last few months of your marriage, the two of you hadn’t slept in the same bed, and with the separation and divorce that had followed, your physical connection had ceased to exist.

The closest the two of you had gotten was when he’d bandaged your hand at the ER the day before. 

Of course, that same hand is now throbbing. 

You wince, wiggling the fingers a little and holding back a hiss of discomfort. Damn, you should’ve taken some Tylenol before you went to bed last night. You just hadn’t been thinking about it. You reluctantly push yourself up, sliding out of bed as gently as you can, wary of waking him.

You freeze as he shifts, watching him roll closer to the warmth you left behind and pressing his face into your pillow. You relax as he settles, and turn to your closet, sleepily fishing out your favorite hoodie and tugging it on over the PJs that you hardly remember changing into. 

--  

By the time you hear Robby coming down the hall, you have 500mg of Tylenol in your system, and coffee has nearly finished brewing. You glance back in his direction as he comes into the kitchen. You’re chagrined (but not surprised) to find him fully clothed. 

“Morning,” You greet. His answer is to take two mugs down from the cabinet, setting them by your wrist on the counter. 

“Sleep okay?” You prod. Robby leans against the counter beside you, and you glance up, watching him scrub his hand across his eyes. 

“Yeah,” He finally admits. “Thanks for letting me crash.” 

“Sure,” You shrug. “My fault, anyway. I talked you into staying for pizza.” You pick up the coffee pot, filling both mugs. Robby mutters his thanks as he takes one up, drawing in a sip. You let the silence settle back in, but you can only handle it for so long: “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“About what?” 

“About whatever it is that’s been fucking with your sleep lately.” 

“Do you wanna talk about why you haven’t changed your name yet?”

It catches you off-guard, and you whirl around to face him. 

“I told you, it’s a shitton of paper work—”

“If you’d started when we filed for divorce, it would be done by now.” 

“Well if it bothers you that much, why didn’t you fucking say so last night?” 

“I didn’t say it bothered me, I just find it weird—”

“It isn’t that weird—And how the fuck did we get on to me? We’re supposed to be talking about you.” 

“We don’t have to talk about me.” 

“Yeah, we fucking do. Something is off with you, Michael. You’re not sleeping, you’re snapping at people—I get that you’re under pressure—”

“You don’t get it.” 

“Alright, maybe I don’t know how it feels, but I can see how much it’s fucking messing with you—”

“Forget it—”

“Mikey, c’mon, just talk to me—”

“Let it go!” 

The snap and bark of his voice startles you, and you unthinkingly take a couple of steps back. You become more aware of the way your face is crowding with heat, your heart pounding in your chest. You turn away from him, shoving your hands in your pockets and curling your good hand into a fist. You’re not gonna cry, not when he’s right fucking there. He’s going to leave, anyway. 

You hear him push out a weary sigh, chased by the sound of him putting the coffee mug down. He’s going to put his hoodie on and just fucking go—

“Hey.” His hands curl around your shoulders, and he sighs again as you shrug him off. You step away, turning back to your mug and taking it up. Maybe you can take a big gulp and pretend that your eyes are tearing because the coffee’s so hot. 

You feel the heat of him as he crowds up behind you, his hands landing on the counter and caging you in. You open your mouth to tell him to back off, but fall silent as he gently nuzzles his temple. 

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs. “I know you’re just trying to help.”

“And I know you’re a closed book, so why do I fucking bother.”

Robby inches closer, curling his arms around your middle. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to take this stuff on.”

“I don’t feel like I have to, Michael.” You turn in his arms, meeting his eyes despite the tears lingering in yours. “I’ve only ever asked because I want to, because I’m not okay if you’re not okay.” Your throat grows tight as you admit it, and you blink rapidly as more tears well up. You drop your chin, closing your eyes as you shake your head, fighting to steady yourself. 

Robby lifts a hand to cup your chin, thumb sweeping tenderly over the apple of your cheek as he tips your head up. You sniffle as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, then rests his forehead against yours.

“You shouldn’t still worry like this.” 

“I know.” 

Robby tips his head, nose gently nuzzling against yours. You can’t help but chase the touch, a few tears escaping and slipping down your cheeks. You each go still as your lips brush, then stop just a hair’s breadth from one another’s. Robby’s breath puffs warmly across your mouth, and you feel his chin tip up just a touch more. 

“Don’t,” You breathe, then hurry to explain—”Don’t do this if you’re just trying to fix it.”  

For a few harrowing moments, neither of you move; you hardly breathe. And then Robby’s hand lifts to cup your other cheek, thumbs gently disrupting the few tear tracks. He brushes tender kisses to your closed eyelids before his mouth descends tenderly on yours. You shiver, curling your hand in the fabric of his shirt and drawing him closer, until he’s pressing you fully against the counter. Your lips part and your tongue teases gently against his, his beard brushing pleasantly against your skin. 

The kiss breaks slowly, with Robby stealing another two languid pecks before resting his forehead back against yours, his hands smoothing over your shoulders again, fingers rubbing across the familiar fabric. 

"...Couldn't find that last hoodie, huh?" He asks knowingly. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking into a guilty grin.

"Misplaced it."

Robby hums knowingly before he dips his head, giving you another tender kiss.

"How's that hand feeling?"

You grunt, raising it and wiggling your fingers.

"Better now. Hurt like a bitch when I woke up, so I took some Tylenol."

"Good." Another peck before he draws away, and you reluctantly let him go. You expect him to head into the front hall, to grab his backpack. But he goes into the living room, taking up the stepladder. You frown, straightening up.

"Where are you going with that?"

"To check the other bulbs."

Next Part

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

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@mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @veryprairieberry

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[therosebookshop]

An Unhealthy Obsession

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Warnings/Contains: Dead dove? Yeah, dead dove; yandere, yandere, yandere; not cringy yandere, if you’re looking for yansim type yandere you will not find that here; stalking on both sides; mentally unwell on both sides yeah duh; gender neutral pronouns and reader as always; you’re aware you’re fucked in the head and why, but therapy is expensive; an ‘accidental’ murder; I hc sol to have a tongue piercing because god knows he should’ve had one, that creep from the arcade but this time bbg Sol is there to save you first <3

A/N: um hi I got sucked in by sol and for any followers sorry I’ve been absent I have ✨burnout✨ so

Inspo: a tumblr post and the title came from ‘An Unhealthy Obsession’ by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

Yandere.

A mix of two words- yanderu, “to be sick,” and deredere, “lovestruck.” Most of the time, yandere are portrayed to be sweet, caring, and innocent before switching into someone who displays an extreme, often violent or psychotic, level of devotion to a love interest.

You know you have a problem. Something wrong in your brain, having developed from your childhood abandonment and neglect. The need to be loved turned into an obsession with a boy in kindergarten. You’d thought he would be perfect for you, because he seemed so sweet and caring. And well.. that girl you’d pushed into traffic one day after she’d given him a flower and they’d sat together at lunch had been an accident, of course. A horrible, tragic one.

Your obsessions had never been this bad. Of course, some of them had been over fictional characters. Some had been over real boys in school, but they had never returned your feelings. And you’d cried your heart out after the rejections. You simply didn’t understand why they didn’t love you. You’d stalk them to see what they liked, change your clothing and your personality and everything, just for them. To be their type.

But this obsession… had turned so bad.

He plagued your every thought. His gorgeous eyes, pretty hair, nice hands. His lips, his arms, how tall he was. Everything about him was so perfect. He was perfect. The fact that he didn’t seem to have many friends.. well, that was okay. When you finally got him as yours, he wouldn’t need anybody else. He’d have you.

You’d gained a reputation as a weird kid, one that had apparently followed you to your new college. There was a boy at the back of your class, who was nearly always accompanied by a boy who was about a head shorter, blue hair. You were jealous. But you weren’t stupid. No, you had to plan carefully to dispose of the boy.

Years. Painful years, of learning about the object of your obsession. You had a whole wall in your closet covered in Polaroids of Sol, each one neatly dated on the back in a green marker that matched the green in his hair. You had shoeboxes full of Polaroids of him, too, all of those neatly dated in legible handwriting and stacked by date. You followed him home once to set up a camera in his bedroom, complete with a mic, right near his bed to hear him sleep. You recorded it once, for if you ever needed the comforting sounds of your darling to sleep and he wasn’t available. Surprisingly, it was hard to learn anything about him just from searching his name- a lot of the kids here were from richer families, more popular families. So you simply stalked him, learned everything about him you could, and kept note of everything about him in a black hardcover notebook, kept on your person at all times.

Every little tick, nervous habit, anything. Noted. How his tongue prodded at hot food before taking a bite. The absolutely hot looking tongue piercing he had. The cute way he fiddled with his sleeves sometimes, or tapped his foot. When people were being annoying he rolled his eyes, or crossed his arms. He had a sibling-like relationship with his best friend, and you had a few pictures of his cute little pout when he was teased.

You learned from careful observation that he was in the nurse's office every other day, so you started to give yourself little injuries to be in the office too. A cut, a bruise, other injuries.

Little did you know he was obsessed with you too. You'd heard this town could be dangerous for pretty young women at night, but you hadn't ever had any issues. Because he followed you home every night. Why would you need a recording of him sleeping when he climbed into your room through your window and spooned you every night? He knew about all the Polaroids and everything. And it made him more obsessed, that you felt the same way about him.

You started to leave him little gifts- cute ones like a tiny bouquet of geranium blooms held together with twine placed on his desk (he knew about the flower box in your living room), a hoodie casually tossed over the back of his chair (it smelled like you and was oversized, so fit him well). Or bigger gifts- a horse plushie, snacks. All of them were from you, he knew they were. It was obvious, how you'd always be at your desk, which was just a couple away from his so you could inconspicuously look at him, before he was in the classroom. How you'd watch eagerly as he put the hoodie on, or slipped the snacks or plushie into his backpack to take home.

Then came the day in art class- three Expressionism drawings. You weren't an artist in any form (unless taking a lot of photographs of one person counted, and it probably didn't) and anyway, even if you were, you didn't want to spend a lengthy amount of time with anybody but Sol.

Everybody moved around to their partners, and you were the only one left without one. And, as your eyes fastened on Sol... he didn't have a partner, either.

You went over, sliding into the seat beside him. "You don't have a partner, right?"

You'd never spoken to him before. Not once. You'd heard his voice so much, but now, actually face-to-face with the object of your obsessions and sleepless nights, your heart was beating out of your chest.

"No. I don't. He ditched me." He said. And god, is his voice hot.

"Well, I don't either." You have to remind yourself to breathe, even though your knee is bobbing under the desk. "Want to be partners?"

His eyes don't miss the rapid, nervous movement of your knee bobbing, heel tapping against the floor. The corners of his lip twitch slightly. Adorable.

"I don't see why not." He says finally, eyes focusing on yours, and you have to remind yourself again to breathe. His eyes are so gorgeous. Like warm honey. You could fall into them and be trapped, like a fly in amber.

"Great." And the word comes out a little breathless, a little flustered. "I'm (user), by the way." You offer your hand to shake. "What's your name?" Like you don't already know it.

He stares at your hand for a minute, as if contemplating. Then he shakes your hand. "Solvian Brugmansia. Just call me Sol."

His hand is warm and bigger than yours, unsurprising because of his height. You can't help but grin. "Nice to meet you, Sol."

You talk a little, ideas of what to draw. He had a sketchbook open on his desk, and to see it without straining your neck, you scooted your chair over, leaning into his personal space bubble. But for such an introvert, he didn't seem to mind one bit.

He smells so good, you think. Comforting. Like paper and something akin to blood- an irony smell. And something under that, something so distinctly him you want to bury your face in his neck. You want to rest your head against him, maybe put your hand on his thigh for 'balance'. To touch him in some way.

He shifts, clears his throat, and when you glance up at him you realize his cheeks are flushed, and he looks down at you. You realize when you can see the faint blemishes on his face- oh so pretty- that you're very, very close.

You lean away, flustered and embarrased. You don't think you blush- he can see faint pink on your cheeks- but you do grin like an absolute idiot. You've learned this through playing dating games (a way to familiarize yourself with relationships, to be as good a partner as you possibly can for your future darling). You're not grinning as wide as if he had flustered you with his words, but you've still got a smile on your face.

And almost without thinking, his hand squishes your cheeks between his fingers to tilt your face up. You're so pretty, he thinks, those eyes never looking away from his, eyes that he could spend hours staring into. With the faint blush coloring your cheeks and the smile on your lips, you could be a perfect subject to draw.

"Stay like that for me." He murmured softly. "I'm going to draw you for this project."

Your lips parted, cheeks growing red, even if you couldn't feel their warmth. He opened up a page of his sketchbook, releasing your face to start sketching. He tells you how to pose- your chin on your palms, head tilted slightly. You watch him as he sketches, how focused he is, his lower lip caught with his teeth. Your eyes soften. He's gorgeous like this, pretty eyes occasionally flickering between the page and you.

Your eyes unfocus, simply staring at him. When he looks up his eyes lock with yours. He can practically see hearts in your eyes, adoration in your gaze. His cheeks turn red. You're adorable this way, oh-so-pretty. Stunning, really.

There's not enough time to finish the drawing within class, so while everybody files out he makes you stay there, finishing the sketch. When he's done he closes his sketchbook and stuffs it into his bag. "I'll show you when I color it in." He says as you grab your stuff and exit the classroom.

Out in the hallway, the two of you stand off to the side. "Since we're, um, gonna be partners, we should exchange numbers. To keep in touch and talk about projects and stuff." You add.

Please, please, please-

“Yeah. Here, put your number in.” He pulls out his phone and opens the contact app before handing it to you. You couldn't stop grinning as you typed in your number and handed his phone back. Your phone went off- a text from an unknown number, no doubt him.

You changed his contact nickname to 'Darling ♡ ' in your phone, grinning to yourself. You're so much shorter than him, he can easily see your phone screen, and he smiles to himself. He's added your contact name as 'Pumpkin'.

The obsession was so obvious.

Over the next few days of the project, the two of you ended up hanging out a lot. Usually at each other's apartment. You even went to the arcade with Sol while Hyugo went and saw a movie nearby.

It was really a cute arcade date, and you dressed as cute as possible that day- oversized sweater, baggy pants, oversized chunky boots that you sometimes lost your balance in... but it was fine, because you always had Sol to lean into for balance.

At the arcade, you played games together, laughing. Sol went to get more tokens and you insisted on sticking by his side. Somebody brushed past you, and in your horrible balanced fashion, you stumbled.

Sol caught you by the waist, steadying you. "Are you okay?"

He seemed to realize what he'd done and cleared his throat, moving his arm, but you stopped him, lacing your fingers with his, begging he wouldn't freak. His cheeks went bright red but he didn’t pull away, and you grinned to yourself as you went up to the counter with him, giving him a cute little side hug while he bought some more tokens. His cheeks were even redder now. It was adorable seeing him like this.

The cashier smiled at the two of you. "How long have you been a couple for?" You hastily released him. Sure, you knew that could be considered slightly romantic, but-

"Not long at all." His arm loops around your waist to tuck you into his side. Your face flushes a bright red. He looks down at you, noticing your blush, and his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

When you get more tokens you go to plushie machines. One of them has horse plushies. You give Sol, who's at a claw machine with plushies of your favorite animal in it, a quick look before going to the machine and putting in a token.

You're laser focused on it, cheering when you get the plushie. You don't even notice when an unfamiliar man comes up to you with a sleazy look, his two bodyguards in tow. He throws an arm around your waist, and you startle away from him, horse plushie clutched in your arms.

"Hey there, pretty. You alone?" He reeks of tobacco, and your nose wrinkles.

"No, I'm here with my boy-" You try to back up, but you bump into one of his bodyguards that blocks your way.

"What kind of boyfriend would leave a pretty thing like you all by yourself? C'mon, come with me, pet. I'll show you a good time." He starts to try to pull you away, but you stomp on his foot, hard, and run. Sol was nearby, he can protect you-

You collide right into Sol, and he keeps you from falling, eyes darting over your face with concern. "What's wrong, pumpkin?" The cute little pet name slips from his lips without him even realizing.

"This man- he grabbed me- he wanted me to go with him but I ran-" You're shaking, Sol can tell, the horse plushie still clutched in your arms. His eyes literally darken in anger, looking up and around for the man who dared to touch you without your permission.

I'm gonna kill him.

He gives you a hug, and you hug him back tightly, the horse plushie held in your hand, the bag of other prizes you two had collectively won bumping against your back as he held it in his hand. "It's okay, I'm here now."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering. You smell amazing. He should find out what scent you wear, so he can buy one for himself.

But he should focus on the situation at hand. He runs his fingers through your hair. "It's okay. Let's go, yeah?"

So you walk home with him, and he holds your hand, keeping you close. Your hands are cold, and he pauses, setting the bag down at your feet and holding your hand to his mouth. His cheeks redden as he kisses the back of your hands, and you blush too.

He's so pretty. And so, so close. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the same sort of adoration and obsession in his eyes that are often in yours when you look at him.

And it makes your breath catch. He feels the same way. That's what that look has to mean.

He holds your hand the rest of the way to your cozy little apartment and you invite him in. He accepts, of course, acting like he's never been inside your apartment- he knows it like the back of his hand.

And maybe you do kiss him that night. Maybe he stays over, cuddling in your bed with you. Maybe more happens. But you're his. And he's yours.

But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee—

[cup1drul3z]

★ — After Hours

ᴄᴜᴘɪᴅꜱ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ!

ᴄᴀꜰᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ꜰɪʀᴇꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | 3ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : Size Difference, Age gap, semi-public sex, oral (r!reciving), fingering, on the counter

A/N : starts crying

SUMMARY : You’re a shy barista. She’s a bold firefighter who keeps coming back—just for you. One night, she shows up after close… and takes exactly what she wants.

The bell above the café door jingled—low and lazy—right as you were wiping down the counter for the third time that hour, trying to stay awake during your afternoon shift. You barely looked up at first. The place had been dead all day.

Then boots. Heavy ones. A shadow cut across the floor, long and slow like it had nowhere else to be.

You glanced up—and choked.

She stood tall in the doorway, tugging off thick gloves and tucking them into her belt. A black fire department T-shirt clung to her broad chest, streaked faintly with soot. Her cargo pants hung low on her hips, stained and dusty, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, showing arms that had definitely done some damage.

"Afternoon," she said, voice low and smooth as smoke. Her eyes scanned the chalkboard menu, then dropped down to meet yours. "You the barista?"

You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. I mean—yes. That’s me. Hi. Hello.”

Her mouth twitched, one brow arching. “Cute.”

You wanted to die. Instead, you scrambled behind the espresso machine, praying the hiss of steam would cover how loudly your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

She stepped up to the counter, pulling out her wallet. “Got anything strong enough to make a night shift suck less?”

“Um—yes, yeah. Our espresso blend is really strong. Like, double-roasted strong. Bold. It’s bold.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Bold, huh?”

You nodded. Your hand shook a little when you grabbed the cup. You prayed she wouldn’t notice.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “M-Me?”

That earned you a soft laugh. “You see another flustered barista hiding back there?”

You told her. She repeated it under her breath, like she was committing it to memory.

“Pretty name,” she murmured, sliding a twenty across the counter. “Keep the change.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s—that’s like a fifteen-dollar tip.”

She shrugged one shoulder, already walking toward the door. “Consider it a donation to the poor, broke college kid fund.”

And just like that, she was gone. Left you standing there red-faced, gripping the cup she never even touched.

You were sure you looked like a complete idiot—fumbling your words, face hot, apron twisted.

There was no way she'd come back.

Right?

The next afternoon, the café was a little busier—enough to keep your hands moving but not enough to drown out your thoughts. You were still cringing over yesterday. Every awkward stammer. The way your face had burned like you’d been cooked alive. You were halfway convinced she only tipped you out of pity.

You were wiping down the espresso machine when the bell jingled again.

You didn’t even look up this time. Not until someone leaned an elbow on the counter and said, smoothly—

“Bold, double-roasted, huh?”

Your heart skipped.

You turned—and there she was again. Same black T-shirt. Different pair of pants, same low hang on her hips. Her arms were even dirtier this time, smudged like she’d been in a crawlspace or a burning basement. She looked like sin in combat boots. And she was smirking.

You immediately forgot how to speak.

“I—um… hi.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, then immediately dropped your hand, thinking it looked weird. “You came back.”

Her gaze dragged down your body and back up again, lazy and obvious. “Yeah. I got a craving.”

Your stomach flipped. You turned to start her drink without asking what she wanted, because god, of course you remembered.

She watched the whole time. Didn’t scroll on her phone. Didn’t look around. Just… leaned on her elbow and stared, like it amused her to see how red your ears were getting.

“Long shift today?” she asked, as you poured the espresso shot.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Till six.”

“Must be brutal.” She folded her arms, flexing just enough to make the fabric of her shirt strain. “Poor thing. Still working through school?”

You froze mid-syrup pump. Slowly nodded.

“Still broke?”

You flushed. “...Yeah.”

She pulled out her wallet again. You tried to wave her off—“You don’t have to, seriously—”

“Relax.” She slid a five across the counter. “Just buying the view.”

You made a sound that could only be described as a dying noise.

She chuckled, deep in her chest. “God, you’re cute when you blush.”

You nearly dropped the milk pitcher.

She took her drink, sipped it slowly, then held your eyes for just a second longer than necessary.

“Same time tomorrow,” she said. “Don’t let anyone else take my order.”

And she was gone again.

You stood there stunned, breath caught in your chest, pulse fluttering behind your ears.

This time… you hoped she came back.

It became a pattern.

Every afternoon, like clockwork, that damn bell jingled—and there she was.

Sevika.

Always a little dirtier than the day before. Always smelling faintly of smoke, sweat, and whatever soap they used at the station. Always leaning on the counter like she owned the place. Like she was there for something more than caffeine.

And maybe she was.

Because she never ordered anything different. Never asked your coworkers for help. Never looked at anyone else.

Just you.

“You gonna remember my drink today, or should I start quizzing you?” she teased on day three, when your hands fumbled the cup lids and one fell to the floor with a clatter.

You bent to grab it, cheeks blazing. “I—I remember. I’ve got it.”

“Good girl.”

Your stomach flipped. Your knees almost buckled. You didn’t know if she meant to say it like that, but from the slow curl of her grin, you were pretty sure she absolutely did.

You gave her her coffee without meeting her eyes. She handed you a ten.

“I’m supposed to tip the service, right?” she said, voice low. “And you’ve been very… attentive.”

You looked up at her through your lashes, trying not to visibly combust. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you’re such a mess when I walk in,” she murmured, leaning just a little closer. “It’s adorable.”

You swallowed.

The café was quiet. No one else in line. Her eyes dragged down to your lips and lingered for a beat too long.

“I’ve got tomorrow off,” she said casually, taking a slow sip. “Thinking I might stop by after close. When it’s just you.”

Your breath hitched. “Wh-why?”

She licked her lips. “Thought I’d ask what else that mouth can do.”

Your heart stopped.

Then she winked—and walked out the door.

You stared after her for a solid minute, trying not to melt straight into the floor.

The café lights were half-dimmed, the floor already mopped, and you were elbow-deep in wiping down the counter when the bell over the door jingled.

You didn’t even glance up at first. “Sorry, we’re clo—”

Then you saw the boots.

And the ash.

And the dark, sweat-clung curve of muscle under a black T-shirt.

Sevika stood there in the doorway, hair damp and wild, soot streaking her jaw, her arms, her neck. Her fireproof pants sat low on her hips, suspenders hanging loose at her sides, and her shirt—God, her shirt—was nearly see-through in the places where it clung.

You straightened so fast you nearly dropped your rag.

“Y-You’re—uh, you’re back,” you stammered, pushing your hair behind your ears with both hands. “But we’re—I mean, we’re almost—closed. I haven’t locked up yet, but—”

“Yeah?” Her voice was lower than usual. Rougher. She stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her. “Guess I got lucky then.”

You blinked at her, stunned. “Were you… on a call?”

“Kitchen fire. Dumbass left oil on the stove. No one hurt.” She walked toward the counter slowly, eyes dragging across your frame like it was the most interesting thing in the room. “Thought I’d stop by before hitting the showers.”

You swallowed hard.

“I—I didn’t think you were serious. About coming after close.”

She tilted her head, her smirk lazy and knowing. “Why? You hoping I’d forget?”

“No! I mean. Not—not forget. Just. I don’t know.” You looked down at the counter like it could save you. “I figured you were just messing with me.”

Sevika leaned her arms on the counter, close enough that you could smell the smoke still clinging to her skin. “I don’t come back to places for jokes, sweetheart.”

You looked up at her—and the heat in her gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

“I like watching you squirm,” she added, almost sweet. “That shy little act you pull. The way you bite your lip when you’re nervous.”

“I do not—”

“You do.” Her voice dipped, soft and amused. “You’re doing it right now.”

You clamped your mouth shut, biting your lip on instinct.

She laughed.

“I mean,” you mumbled, reaching for the rag again even though the counter was already spotless, “you really know how to mess with people.”

“I only mess with people I want to touch.”

You froze.

Her eyes locked with yours. The air in the café was suddenly too warm. Too tight. Her voice dropped again, low and close:

“You gonna lock that door, baby? Or should I do it for you?”

Your heart pounded like it was trying to climb out of your chest.

Sevika just stood there, staring at you—so casual, like she hadn’t just set the air on fire with one sentence. Her forearms flexed as she leaned on the counter, ash smudged along her jaw, her lips, the curve of her throat. She looked like heat made flesh. Wild and wrecked and too goddamn beautiful to be real.

You swallowed hard. “I should… lock the door.”

“Yeah,” she said, watching your every move. “You should.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked to the front, turning the deadbolt with trembling fingers. You flipped the sign to CLOSED and turned back slowly.

Sevika was already around the counter.

Inside your space.

You froze, hand still on the doorknob.

She moved closer, slow and heavy-footed, like a storm rolling in. “You looked real cute with your hands all busy on that counter.”

You laughed nervously, backing up until the register bumped against your hip. “That’s because I’m a very professional cleaner.”

“Oh yeah?” She stopped inches in front of you. “Bet you’re real good with your hands, huh?”

You bit your lip—and immediately regretted it, because the second her eyes dropped to your mouth, something in her shifted.

She stepped into your space, boxing you in, one palm planting firm beside your waist on the counter, the other brushing your wrist so lightly you could barely feel it.

But you did feel it. Every nerve lit up.

“Gonna let me find out?” she asked, voice rough.

You couldn’t even think. “I—I don’t usually—”

“Yeah, I figured.” Her lips twitched. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Your breath hitched.

You could smell the heat on her skin. Her sweat. The hint of smoke curling off her shirt. Her eyes never left your face, watching for the tiniest flinch. The smallest opening.

“I want to touch you,” she said, almost softly. “Tell me I can.”

You nodded before your brain could catch up. “Yes.”

Her hand slid up your side, slow and reverent, fingers dragging over the fabric of your uniform shirt, brushing just under the hem until her palm met bare skin. You gasped—quiet and sharp.

She leaned in, mouth grazing your jaw.

“Didn’t think you’d let me,” she murmured, lips ghosting toward your ear.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back,” you whispered.

She chuckled, low and warm against your skin. “Yeah. You’re fuckin’ adorable.”

Then her mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Like she’d been waiting—like she’d wanted this since that first awkward stammer out of your mouth. Her hands grabbed your hips and pulled you forward, up onto your toes. You moaned into her, gripping the front of her shirt, fingers sliding across ash and sweat and heat.

She backed you into the counter behind you, lifting you up with both hands until your ass hit the surface, your knees parting instinctively.

Her mouth moved from your lips to your neck, biting just hard enough to leave heat blooming under your skin. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, dazed. “Don’t.”

She grinned against your throat. “Good girl.”

Her hands were already under your shirt. Up your thighs. Her touch was rough but deliberate—like she wasn’t here to play. Like she wanted to wreck you.

And God, you wanted to be wrecked.

Her hands gripped your thighs—firm, calloused, warm—fingertips digging into the soft skin just beneath your shorts as she pulled you forward on the counter. Your legs parted around her automatically, wrapping loosely at her waist as her body slotted between them, solid and hot and unbearably close.

“You gonna be a mess for me already?” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low rumble that made your pulse stutter. “Didn’t even touch you properly yet.”

You whimpered as she kissed up your throat, slow and biting, her teeth dragging over your skin before her tongue soothed it. Her hands slid under the hem of your shorts, fingers dragging over your inner thighs—up, up, up—until her thumb brushed right where you were pulsing through your underwear.

You jolted. “S-Sevika—”

She hummed, deep and pleased. “Fuck. You’re already wet.”

You nodded helplessly, breath catching in your throat. “I—I’ve been thinking about you all week—”

That made her groan, full and low in her chest. “Say that again.”

“I think about you,” you whispered. “Every day. Every time you come in.”

She pulled back just far enough to look you in the eye, one hand still resting between your thighs, fingers pressing the damp fabric closer against you. Her smirk was all heat and hunger.

“You touch yourself thinking about me?”

You flushed hard, nodding.

Sevika growled.

“Then I’m not being gentle.”

And she wasn’t.

She tugged your underwear to the side, her fingers slipping straight through your slick folds with zero resistance. You cried out—sharp and breathy—as she pressed her middle finger inside, slow but steady, dragging it out just to thrust it back again, harder.

“Goddamn,” she muttered, eyes locked on your face as you gasped. “So fucking tight. Bet no one’s ever had you like this.”

Your head fell back, fingers clutching the edge of the counter. “N-No one—like this—”

That made her grin wickedly. “Good.”

She added a second finger, stretching you just right, her palm pressing against your clit with every curl of her hand. You bucked into her touch, moaning loudly—thankful the café was empty, the lights low, the door locked.

Your shirt was bunched up now, your back arched, thighs trembling as she fucked you on the counter like she’d earned it. Like this was inevitable.

“Look at you,” she said, voice rough with want. “Sweet little barista getting fingered where she serves coffee. What would your manager say?”

You whined, too far gone to answer.

She leaned in close, her lips brushing your ear. “You gonna cum for me right here, baby?”

“Y-Yeah—please—”

“Then do it. Let me feel it.”

Her thumb finally pressed tight against your clit, circling hard and fast, and your body snapped. The orgasm hit so hard your whole body tensed, legs locking around her waist as your back arched and your moan punched out of your throat.

“Thaaat’s it,” she whispered, watching your face the whole time. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

You sagged back onto the counter, shaking, panting, legs still wrapped around her.

She didn’t move—just watched you come down, her hands stroking your thighs gently now, slower.

“I’m gonna be late to work every damn day,” she said finally, voice low and satisfied.

You let out a breathless laugh. “You better leave a tip.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss to your knee. “Sweetheart, you are the tip.”

You were still catching your breath, legs loose around her waist, your heart stuttering from the aftershocks when Sevika leaned in again.

She kissed the corner of your mouth—slow, almost tender—before dragging her lips down your neck, over the sweat-slick curve of your throat. Her hands never stopped moving, rough palms sliding up your trembling thighs, across your stomach, under your shirt.

“You think I’m done with you?” she murmured against your collarbone.

You whimpered. “I—I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think you’d be such a desperate little thing either.” Her hands squeezed your hips, pulling you forward again on the counter. “But here you are. Still soaking. Still mine.”

She lifted your shirt up over your head and tossed it aside, leaving you bare except for the panties already stretched out of place. Her eyes dragged over your chest like she was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You're so fucking pretty,” she said roughly, cupping your tits in both hands. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow and firm, and you gasped, hips jerking forward on instinct. “Bet you don’t even know how pretty.”

You flushed hot, trying to look away, but she grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to hers.

“No hiding.” Her thumb dragged across your bottom lip. “Not when I’m about to make you come again.”

Before you could answer, she dropped to her knees.

You barely had time to process it—her shoulders pressing between your thighs, hands gripping your hips like handles—before her mouth was on you.

Heat. Tongue. Pressure.

You nearly screamed.

She licked you like she was starving, slow drags from your entrance to your clit, teasing at first, then suddenly firm—perfectly firm—her tongue flicking over you just right until you were clawing at the counter and moaning her name.

“S-Sevika—f-fuck—oh my God—”

She groaned into you, the sound vibrating through your whole body. One hand slid up to grab your breast, squeezing, tweaking your nipple as she sucked hard on your clit. The dual sensation made your body jerk, your head drop back as another wave hit you, harder than the first.

You came with a cry, thighs squeezing around her head, your body arching into her mouth like you needed it. Like breathing.

She didn’t stop until you were twitching, panting, too sensitive to take any more.

Only then did she rise—slow and smug—her mouth shining with you, her chest rising and falling like she’d just pulled someone from a burning building.

You looked dazed. Boneless. Ruined.

She smirked and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Bet you make a mean cappuccino, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice wrecked, “but this?”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing against yours.

“This is my new favorite afternoon routine.”

[taintandviolent]

Le coup de foudre ; Gambit x Reader

summary: THIS IS PART 3 OF THE TACO TUESDAY SERIES! PART ONE HERE / PART TWO HERE! Reader is suffering, big time. She wants Remy, but he hasn't called. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.1K | some angst to start things off, smut with some plot (we've got an established relationship, huzzah), French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (chere, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), shower sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n, and some fluff at the end, because I went and broke y'all's hearts in the last chapter.

a/n: praying that the gambit fandom hasn't completely died out.... i'm so sorry this took me so long. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

The first day is the hardest. 

The first day is the hardest because by 1:30 PM, you realize that you’re in love with Remy Lebeau. You cry on the couch he kissed you on. Why are you crying? Because you can’t remember the last time you’ve been in love with someone, and you know what comes with love. None of it is good. 

The second day sucks too because you go to work, and come home to an apartment that, for the first time since you’ve lived there, really felt empty. There’s nowhere you can sit that he hasn’t touched. His memory lingers everywhere and try as you might, you can’t escape it. You aren’t sure you want to, either, which is troubling in and of itself. 

By the third day, your heart is aching, but it’s a dull ache. Something like anger has started to roil in your system, and you’re wondering why he hasn’t called, or stopped by. You can justify it by saying that you don’t know what mutant superheroes go through or what their daily life looks like, but you’re still sour that there’s been nothing but radio silence on his end. 

Day four comes and goes, and nothing changes. You’re still sad. You’re still angry. But most of all, you’re still lonely. 

Day five… however. Day five comes, you’ve cycled through all the stages of grief and landed somewhere on the spectrum of desperation. 

So, after work, you march across the hall to Wade’s, and knock three times in a little melody. After a few moments, the door flies open, revealing a very casual looking Wade. He’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt and grey sweats. You avert your eyes from his groin, out of respect. 

“Wade,” you stammer, scratching a non-existent itch on your arm. “Hey.”

“Pookie! How nice of you to stop by. Blind Al and I were just about to partake in some Colombian party powder, care to join us?” 

Your pupils dilate. Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “Uh… no. No, I’m good.” 

You shift uneasily. You aren’t sure how to start this, so you just blurt whatever comes out. 

“Wade… um. Look, I’m sorry to ask this of you. I just…. I can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t seem like the type to ghost someone, and I just… I really want to talk to him.” 

“You want Gambit’s number?”

You perk up, relieved that you didn’t have to ask the question yourself. Wade was more perceptive than you thought. 

“Y-yeah, if you have it.” 

“I don’t. Womp-womp. But I gave him yours.” 

“Oh…” A beat. “...wait. How did you get my number?” 

“Remember that package that was misdelivered?” 

“No….” 

“Yikes. Well, I do. It had your name and phone number on it. I figured it’d be useful to have so…” He taps the side of his head.

“Why did you… did he ask for it?” 

“Boy, did he.” 

You frown, feeling an overwhelming flurry of emotions. On one hand, he’s had your number and hasn’t called. On the other hand, he wanted your number. But he hadn’t done a damn thing with it. Your shoulders sink, unconsciously. 

“Oh, sweet cheeks. Someone play some Cigarettes After Sex, this is getting emotional.” Wade mock frowns, looking off to the left for a moment before his eyes dart back to you. “He’s probably saving lives or something heroic. Undisclosed mutant drama.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, choosing to ignore his weird commentary. “I appreciate it.” 

“What’re you gonna’ do now? Cue the depressed drinking montage.” 

“That’s a great idea, actually…” 

“No, no… let’s not.” 

You interject with a finger in his face. “Yeah, let’s.” 

“If you’re going to do that, let’s do it inside. C’mon.”  Wade doesn’t give you a moment to reject him, and plants both of his hands on your shoulders, yanking you forward. 

Turns out, Wade does have alcohol. He makes you a drink, something that tastes like whiskey. Maybe it's your whiskey, left over. You bring the glass to your lips, sucking the liquid down. It’s strong, but you aren’t complaining. 

“Oooohohoh, you’ve got it bad, huh? Heart eyes and all that mushy-gushy shit?”

You throw a glare his way, and take another sip. The liquor burns better than any remark you could’ve come up with.

“It’s okay,” he says, nodding. “I can’t say I blame you. It’s that Southern charm he’s got. Handsome, slick, and he can do magic tricks.” His eyes widen, excitedly. “How could you not fall in love with him?”

“Wade, you’re not helping.” 

“Sure I am,” he retorts. 

You take a seat on Wade’s couch, looking distraught. You’re thankful that Blind Al is in fact… blind because she can’t see the way that the tears are welling up in your eyes. You look at the chairs that you two sat on, flirting with each other.

“Oh,” Wade says, looking somewhat surprised. “Oh no.”

“She cryin’?” Blind Al asks. Great, she’s perceptive. You swallow back a sob, and bring the glass to your lips again. 

“Almost… almost… c’mon, give us a cinematic, single tear.” 

You shake your head and suck it up as best you can. You don’t want acknowledgement, that’ll only make it worse, possibly sending you into a fit of sobs. You don’t even know why you’re so upset – it’s not like he told you he never wanted to see you again. He just hadn’t… well, done anything and that was somehow worse.

“Je-sus…!” Wade says suddenly, leaning over to angrily look through the peephole. He stays there for a moment, before leaning back, a sly smile on his face. 

And that’s when you hear the dull thudding that has Wade’s attention. It sounds like a knock – a heavy handed one. 

You straighten your spine, curious. 

“Oh, this is too perfect.” He says under his breath, before taking one step towards you. “Save the waterworks, your Cajun Prince has returned.” 

You set the glass on the floor and scramble off the couch, practically on all fours as you run towards the door, pushing Wade out of the way. Standing on your tiptoes to look through the peephole for only a split second, you get a visual. Hurriedly, you twist the knob and throw the door open, wanting to rip it off its hinges. It bumps into the wall behind it, and your breath rushes out.  

Remy stands there, facing your door, his fist raised to knock again. He has a duffel bag on his shoulder, which slides off the second he hears your voice. 

“Remy?” you call, your voice quivering slightly. He turns abruptly, his coat flaring out behind him. He’s wearing armor now, and looks like he’s just come back from something serious.

“Chere? What’re you –” 

You don’t need to answer again, instead, just run across the hall, rushing into his arms. Your body hits him so hard that you let out a little vocalization, a delicate oomph, as you compress yourself to him. He immediately responds by wrapping one arm around your waist, and the other around the back of your head, hand petting your hair gently. 

He smells like blood, sweat and ash, but you nuzzle your cheek into the rigid plate of his purple chestplate anyway, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso in a desperate hug. 

After a moment, you pull away, just enough to look up at him. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with such an adoration that you can’t help but clench your stomach. He looks like he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“Is this your superhero outfit?” Your fingers stroke the ridges in his cowl, admiring it. Slowly, they trail down the length of it, and begin to make their way over his smooth chestplate. 

He laughs, looking down at you. “ ‘Spose so.”

“I like it.” 

Two smiles later, he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, lifting you up off the ground slightly. You’re on your tiptoes again, smashing your lips against his and tasting him as hungrily as you did the first time – if not hungrier. There’s something extremely erotic about kissing a costumed hero, something to do with uniforms and all that, you assume, but the butterflies in your stomach go wild at the feeling of his armor against you. This time, you don’t try to suppress anything and give into the feeling of it all. 

Someone sighs dreamily behind you and Remy breaks the kiss to look knowingly over the top of your head. Wade is leaning against his door frame, hands clasped in front of his chest. Short of having hearts bursting over his head, he’s silently gushing, his brows pulled together in a sappy expression, with a dorky smile curling around his lips.

“Oh, c’mon! Just a peek? Where’s your sense of fan service?!” 

“No, Wade.” Remy croons, opening your door and pulling you in with him. He shuts the door with one hand.

“Now before we get to the good stuff, I wanna’ wash this day offa’ me.” 

You nod your head, understanding, and reach for his hand. The bathroom is adjacent to your bedroom, so you lead him down the hall.

You flick on the light; it’s all dark tile and cool tones. You head to the sizable shower, and open the glass door, leaning in just enough to turn the knob. The water splashes to life, and steam fills the bathroom quickly. 

Watching Remy undress himself is like a strip tease that has you biting your lip. He’s determinate and meticulous, like he knows you’re watching. The jacket and armor pieces come off first, and get set on the edge of the bathroom counter. Then comes the shirt, revealing that delicious torso again, the one that you’ve been longing to run your hands over for almost a week. He quickly unzips his pants and drags them down his legs before setting them atop the rest of the items. The briefs are last – the perfect ending to reveal his heavy, flaccid cock before he turns, and walks into the shower. He’s got a perfect ass, too; muscular and round. You’re pretty sure you could bounce a quarter off of it. The water splashes against the roundness of his freckled shoulders, spattering against the muscle and onto the tile. 

“Chere, c’mere…” He reaches for your hand, pulling it inside the shower. 

“Wait, wait,” you laugh, and retract your hand. “I’m not coming in there fully dressed.” 

“Then get naked, mon amour. We know we done been waitin’ long enough to feel each other again.” 

You pull your shirt over your head, and reach around back to undo your bra. Your jean shorts are next, joining the pile on the floor.

The water is warm, but Remy’s naked body is even warmer. 

There’s a beautiful, tender familiarity in the way you touch each other, coupled with a hunger that can only be fueled by absence. He hasn’t had you in days, you haven’t had him; the desire has reached a boiling point, and needs to be expelled. He presses you against the tile of the shower, watching as the water pitter-patters against your skin, over your decollete, over your breasts and down the gentle curve of your stomach. He leans down and kisses the hollow of your throat, his hands cupping your hips forcefully.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“I missed you too… maybe more.” 

“Ooh, doubt that.” 

As his fingers trail along your body with an air of ownership, Remy kisses your wet shoulders, nipping at the warm, slick flesh. Despite the heat, you shiver. He has a real knack for making your body shudder. Your knees feel like jell-o, so you wrap your hands around his strong neck, interlacing your fingers behind it for some support. 

His fingers dip down between your legs and teasingly splay out over your folds. His middle finger slips between them, glossing over your center, and slides all the way down, teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. Everything is wet, but he can feel the slickness that meets his finger. His cock twitches against your thigh. 

“‘Dat’s my girl,” he says, low. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout ‘dis way too much.” His hand cups your cunt, as if to punctuate his sentence and you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You shift, forcing more friction against his wet palm, the warm water pooling between your legs. “The thought of you been distractin’ me. You a dangerous woman, cher…” 

“I’m dangerous? Says the guy who has fucked me in every room, on almost every surface in my apartment…” 

Remy chuckles and the sound fills your heart. There it is again – that unyielding feeling of adoration. You’re horny as all get out, but somehow, you still have the capacity to swoon over tiny things like his laugh. This isn’t you, this isn’t what you’re used to. Frustrated, you bump your head against the tile, letting out a small groan. 

He notices this, and brings his other hand – still leaving one situated between your legs – up behind your head. 

“What’re you doin’? What’s wrong, chere?”

“Nothing...” you huff, looking over at the shower head. It doesn’t sound very convincing, but you aren’t ready to spill your guts to him yet… you’d rather have him rearrange your guts and not think about the feelings. 

He smirks, devilishly, like he already knows. If he does, he’s not letting you off the hook. 

“Guess I just gon’ have to fuck it outta’ you, huh?” 

You avert your gaze back to him, pupils dilating. You know him well enough now that he means what says.  

With that, he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns his body towards the stream of water. He begins washing himself, and you watch as the suds slowly trail down the ample curve of his back. You reach forward, spreading them over the indentation of his spine, washing him gently. 

“Hoo, the way you touch me…” he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear it. 

The shower is intimate and everything is mutual, cue the montage. For the… what? Tenth time that week? You realize that you're in way too deep with Remy. Way too deep, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. 

Drying his feet off on the mat and allowing you space to do the same, Gambit then pulls a towel from the rack, and wraps it around your naked body. The droplets absorb into the fibers, and you’re a little less drippy. Well, your body is. The hungry, whining void between your legs isn’t. 

When Gambit turns, you catch a glimpse of his half-hard cock and blush. Even though you’ve fucked it, sucked it and everything else, the sight of is still enough to send butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

He can’t get you to the bedroom fast enough. His hands are on your hips, directing you towards the bed and you let out a little vocalization, much to his delight. 

“C’mere, mon ami… get up on ‘dat bed.” 

You obey. Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been waiting for this for almost a week now. 

Before he has a chance to stop you, you’re reaching forward to take his cock in your hand. It’s heavy and hot and the feeling of it against your palm makes you clench painfully, twinging with heat. You take your time in stroking him to full hardness, swiping your thumb over the leaking tip and smearing the pre-cum down his veiny length. 

Once he’s there, he’s like a freight train. Unstoppable and panting hard. He fucks you hard over the edge of the bed, hard enough to make your breasts bounce back and forth with each bullying thrust, withdrawing it to the tip and bottoming out each time. Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of bodies slapping together, flesh against flesh. 

“Tell me,” he grunts. “Ain’t no place for secrets up in here.”

“It’s not important – uuhhh!” Another thrust, deep as he can go. 

“Cher,” he growls and thrusts again. “I ain’t gonna’ let you cum ‘till you tell me.” 

“No,” you moan, bringing your hands to your tits as they move. “Please, I’m so close, we can — uhhh god!”

He’s relentless. 

“Fuck, fuck-fuck, oh my god…!” 

With a slick pop, he pulls his cock all the way out. You lift your head up, gazing distraught between your legs; he’s centimeters away from you. The tip is red, glistening and angry as it twitches up, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

“Tell me, cher, or you ain’t gonna’ get ‘dis cock again.” He bucks his hips forward, dragging the fat, wet tip against your swollen cunt. You cry out at the sensation, your clit buzzing with electricity. Despite all that, he doesn’t penetrate you again, and you whimper at the empty sensation. Every time you try to move your hips to get his cock to slip in again, he pulls back just enough to put distance between you two. You whine through gritted teeth. 

“Okay!” 

He presses the head of his cock against your clit. Waiting. Patiently. So patiently. For a moment, you marvel at the control he has considering that his cock looks red and angry, aching to empty itself inside of you. 

“Fine. I think…” You pause to catch your breath. “I think I love you.” 

Remy closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the sound of you saying it. He’d wanted to say it to you at breakfast, and he’d wanted to say it before he left. 

“Mm.” 

“Mm?”

“Mmm-mm. ‘Dat’s what I wanted to hear, chere. An’ it sounds so good comin’ outta’ ‘dat mouth of yours.”

He lines the cockhead up, and bottoms out with another word. He’s said enough, apparently. When he takes hold of your hips, lifting them up slightly to give himself a deeper angle, you wrap your hands around your sheets until the fibers squeak. Your nails dig into the fabric, nearly puncturing holes in them. It’s only a few more earth-shattering thrusts before you cum, and before he fills you with white hot heat, the two of you calling and moaning each other’s names in ecstasy. 

After softening inside of you, which is somehow extremely sweet, he withdraws himself from your cunt, and uses the sheet to clean up the mess that leaks out. He carefully lifts you up onto the bed fully, and then crawls next to you, nestling into the same space he did last night. 

It’s like he never left. 

“I really do, you know. I love you. I know we just met and fucked and that’s all, but I love you.”

“You keep sayin’ ‘dat’s all’ as if what we have is somethin’ casual, cher. You’re gonna’ hurt Remy’s feelings if you keep ‘dat up. So, knock it off, ah?” 

“It’s… it’s not casual?” 

He shakes his head. “I love you too, mon coeur. I have since I first saw you…” 

You hum happily, and nuzzle yourself against his bare chest. “I finally understand that French phrase I learned… C’etait le coup de foudre?” (It was love at first sight.)

“Oui… oui.” 

[mind-intheclouds342]

The perfect one - Trans Curly x Reader

Warning: Smutty!

To you, he was the best man you could have ever met, tall, blonde, with blue eyes, his beard tickled you every time you kissed him, his hands were big and perfect for holding your face, kind, compassionate, and you could keep naming many other qualities of his.

After so many failed relationships, you felt that you had finally met the right person for you. 

Maybe the only bad thing you could say about him was his job, which meant he was away too much, but in the last few months you were dating, there wasn't a day when you didn't receive a call from him and he would tell you how everything was going.

While you were waiting at the mall for their arrival to meet, someone had approached you. 

He looked familiar when you gave him a glance, until you realized he was a friend of Curly's, whom you had only seen in photographs. 

Jimmy: "Aren't you (Y/n)? Curly's girlfriend?"

"Um- yeah, it's me..." 

You nodded somewhat nervously at the man's sudden closeness. 

Jimmy: "Are you gay?"

"Excuse me?"

That question had caught you completely off guard. 

Jimmy: "Sure you are, otherwise you wouldn't be with Curly, right?" 

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

Jimmy: "You know, because he is a woman."

"Eh?"

Every word that came out of his mouth only made you feel more and more confused. 

Jimmy: "Didn't you know? He may look like a man and all, but he doesn't have what really makes a man."

"You know- I don't feel comfortable talking about this with you. I will kindly ask you to leave me alone and go away."

Jimmy: "Ugh, I'm just telling you the truth, you don't have to react that way."

He rolled his eyes. 

Jimmy: "You should be with a real man, I'm available if you're interested in that."

"No thanks, I would prefer to eat cockroaches."

You made an unpleasant grimace at that idea, but the thought of being much closer to that person for a longer time seemed even more disgusting to you. 

After rejecting him in a thousand different ways and having him insult you for rejecting him, he got tired enough to leave you alone. 

"What kind of friends does Curly have?"

You wondered, looking at the time on your phone, hoping he would arrive soon. 

And when you looked up from the screen, all you could see were yellow tulips in front of you. 

Curly: "Have you been waiting a long time for me?"

You melted at the sight of that beautiful smile he has, and the gesture of the flowers in a pot won your heart once again. 

"No, not at all, I arrived just a few minutes early."

You responded by greeting your boyfriend with a kiss on the lips, happy to see him again. 

Curly: "Great, shall we go to that new café you wanted to go to?"

"Of course~"

You clung to his arm and, attached to him, walked together until you reached that place.

You took a seat, leaving the flowers aside, and after glancing at the menu, you decided to place  your orders. 

Curly: "And? Have you thought about my proposal?"

"To go live with you?" You smiled, playing with the paper napkin on the table. "I don't know..." It's still a bit early~ we've only been dating for half a year"

Curly: "Mmm, but we've known each other for two years." 

"But it seems like you haven't told me everything~" 

Immediately, his calm demeanor changed to a more nervous one. 

Curly: "Hehehehe, what are you talking about?"

"I had the strangest conversation with your friend Jimmy, you told me he was a good guy, but damn, he's an idiot!" 

Curly: "Oh- um- and what did he say?"

"He started calling you less of a man and those things, he even called you a woman, I thought it was a bit exaggerated."

Curly: "Well... About that..."

"...Why would you hide something like this from me??"

Curly: "I didn't know how you were going to react... I like you a lot and I don't want to lose you..."

"Fool, it's not worth hiding those things, sooner or later they come to light, and it's better to say them beforehand." 

Both sighed and rested their heads in their hands. 

Curly: "You're going to leave me, aren't you? It's okay if you do it..."

"What?"

Curly: "At this point, this is where everyone leaves... For women, I was never a 'real man,' and for those who like women, I was never quite a woman, so... no one was satisfied with me after finding out that I am trans. " 

"I'm angry because you didn't tell me earlier. Not because you were born a woman"

Curly: "...Are you not going to leave me?"

"How could I leave the best man in the world?"

When he saw your smile and heard what you said, he couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and joy. 

At that moment, your drinks were brought to you, and you continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, talking about your jobs and friends, catching up after not having seen each other for a while.

You had decided to go to his house, you wanted to stay for dinner and sleep with him. 

"Was that you??" 

You said, surprised, looking at some photos from when he was a teenager, before testosterone. 

The two sitting on the couch in their living room. 

Curly: "Yeah... They always told me I looked very masculine, so I tried to look as feminine as possible so they wouldn't talk weird about me, but I think I just looked dumber." 

"You were so beautiful! You have always been handsome your whole life, it's unfair!"

You buried your face in his chest and hit him a couple of times softly, until you stopped and looked at him. 

Curly: "There's nothing left" he laughed lightly as if he could read what you were thinking. 

"Can I see?"

He blushed a little at your proposal, but he was quick to please you and take off his shirt. 

You attentively observed his scars, carefully touching them with the tips of your fingers. 

"I love them" 

Curly: "And i love yours," he smiled, seeing how focused you were on his chest. 

He became somewhat curious when you started looking at his face and chest repeatedly; he suspected you were up to something and confirmed it when you bit his chest out of nowhere. 

That was the greatest show of affection you could give him. 

"By the way! You need to work on your friendships. "

You told him when you stopped biting him, he was lying on the couch breathing heavily from how you had attacked him, his entire chest and neck marked with small bites and hickeys.

Curly: "Can we talk about that later?"

He said with a sigh and his cheeks red. 

"Of course" 

You smiled to climb on top of him and kiss his lips. 

You felt his hands resting on your thighs and then slowly sliding down to your butt to squeeze it. 

You let out a small sigh between your lips, causing him to pull away from you. 

Curly: "Are you sure about this?"

"More than sure" 

You confirmed it and let out a squeal when he grabbed you to carry you, getting up from the couch ready to take you to his room. 

When he laid you down on the bed, he immediately began kissing your neck and slipped his hands inside your shirt, trying to unfasten your bra. 

You felt his hands glide over your body to take off your shirt, momentarily parting from your neck to get rid of it and then placing a kiss back on your lips. 

He gave you a smile before turning to your breasts to start kissing them first, then licking them, and finally dedicating all his attention to your nipples, one in his mouth and the other being massaged by his left hand. 

He sucked, pressed with his lips, and moved his tongue in circles over one, while with the other he gently pulled and twisted, making them hard, causing you to arch your back while letting out small moans. 

Curly: "You sound so lovely..." 

"I didn't know you could be so eager..." 

You laughed a little until you saw him run his tongue between your breasts and then down to your stomach, leaving a kiss on it before he started to take off your pants.

"Hey! I'm not a rag doll!" 

You shook your legs to prevent him from completely removing the lower part of your clothes, it didn't bother you at all but you felt a bit lazy letting him do everything. 

You finished taking off your pants by yourself, left only in your underwear, sat on his bed, and smiled. 

"You have more clothes than I do."

Curly: "And if we leave that for another day? It doesn't bother me at all to please you today."

"Pants down"

You said it almost like an order, crossing your arms.

He sighed to start unbuttoning his pants, and as he lowered them, you saw that he was wearing boxers, but what caught your attention the most was the hair peeking out from the lower part of his stomach. 

"...Jungle?"

Curly: "Don't say it like that!"

"I see that the curtains match the rugs. "

Curly: "Don't keep on with that"

You let out a giggle and pushed him, making him fall back onto the bed. You rested your cheek on his thigh, playing with the edge of his boxers between your fingers, then slowly pulling them down to his knees. 

"Oh wow-" 

You just said that and Curly was already covering his face with his arms. 

You had never seen an erect clit in your life, but you didn't mind it at all, not to mention the amount of hair covering that area. 

You couldn't help but lean in and soon take it into your mouth to suck it, surprised when he suddenly lifted his hips and his legs trembled, perhaps you hadn't considered the sensitivity of that part. 

When you tried to pull away, his hands went to your head, pushing you against his pussy. 

Curly: "No, no, no, please don't stop"

And those words were enough for you to continue with the pleasure of that man, too immersed in his moans, not wanting to stop and even exploring a bit more by inserting two of your fingers inside him, giving him goosebumps. 

Curly: "Yesss, keep going like that- a little more- a little more and-!"

You could only drown your moan in his intimacy when his legs pushed you even more against him at the moment he reached his orgasm. 

Little by little, his trembling legs slid down your back, leaving you free, finally lifting your head with your cheeks red and your face all wet.. 

"Bleh"

You stuck out your tongue to get a hair off it, and both of you ended up looking at each other and then laughing for the same reason. 

Curly: "I think I got carried away-"

"Do you think so?" 

You murmured to lean over him and kiss his lips.

Curly: "Eew, you are soaked."

"Now you deal with it" 

They laughed as you planted kisses all over their face. 

Curly: "If you want to soak my face, do it like this"

He took your sides and pulled you up until your stomach was against his face, he started kissing you, tickling you, and making you sit on his chest.

"Hehehe what are you- oh my God-"

You let out a moan when he took your sides and ended up dragging you to his face, moving your panties aside with his teeth and inserting his tongue in an instant. 

You were definitely going to seriously consider moving in with him. 

[eclipixels]

Lip Gloss

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Satoru Gojo x Reader: Blurb about Gojo's lips looking off

[708 words]

      Satoru Gojo always had lip gloss on. No one ever questioned it. It was as much a part of him as his blindfold or his infinity. Always there, always gleaming under the light. It suited him, really. The way his lips always had that glossy sheen, sometimes a little tinted, sometimes just clear, but always perfect.

      For the longest time, his students never thought to ask why. It was just a Gojo thing. But then, after three days away on a mission in another city, things changed.

      Something was off. Wrong, even.

      At first, they couldn’t put their finger on it. Gojo still had his usual playful energy, still wore his blindfold (or sunglasses, depending on his mood), and still made terrible jokes. But something about him looked… unnatural. It gnawed at them.

      Then, on the third day, Yuji figured it out.

      “Oh my God.

      Nobara turned to him, startled. “What?”

      Yuji’s eyes were wide with horror, as if he had just uncovered some dark and twisted secret. He pointed a shaky finger at Gojo.

      “His lips.”

      Nobara frowned and squinted. Then, the realization hit her like a truck.

      Megumi, who had been trying to tune out his teammates' nonsense, glanced at the commotion.

      “What are you two freaking out about?” he sighed.

      “Look at his lips.” Nobara gagged

      Megumi regrettably listened and turend to look. He froze. Gojo’s lips were dry. Not just dry—chapped. Criminally chapped. If you squinted your eyes enough you'd think that was Shigaraki.

      “Oh God. I didn’t need to see that.” Megumi quickly looked away.

      “We all didn’t need to see that,” Yuji muttered, still visibly shaken.

      It was Nobara who spoke first. “We have to say something.”

      Yuji nodded firmly. “Yeah, we can’t just let this happen.”

      Megumi groaned. “Or, we could just ignore it like normal people.”

      But it was already too late. Yuji had taken a deep breath and approached Gojo like he was about to deliver some life-altering news.

      “Uh… Sensei?”

      Gojo, completely oblivious, turned to face them with a bright, carefree smile. “Hm?”

      Yuji hesitated. How was he supposed to phrase this? “Your lips…” he started, then faltered. “They’re so… um…”

      “What?” Gojo blinked at him.

      “He means they look disgusting,” Nobara helpfully supplied.

      “Yeah, what she said,” Yuji nodded.

      Gojo paused, processing this information. He laughed, genuinely amused. “Is it really that bad?”

      The three of them nodded. Vigorously.

      “Where’s your lip gloss?” Yuji asked, tilting his head. “You always have it on.”

      “Yeah, what do you use? Oil? Balm? Where can I get some?” Nobara added, genuinely curious now.

      Gojo smirked, as if he had been waiting for this very moment. “Y/n.”

      Yuji and Nobara exchanged confused looks. “Huh?”

      “That’s… not a product,” Yuji pointed out.

      “I wear Y/n,” Gojo repeated with an even bigger grin.

      “Y/n Sensei has a lip care line?” Yuji interrupted, perking up. “Do you think she’d give us a discount?”

      “No, you idiots.” Megumi sighed, rubbing his temples like he was experiencing an oncoming migraine. “Y/n Sensei doesn’t own a lip care line.”

      Yuji blinked. “Then…?”

      Gojo wiggled his eyebrows.

      “Oh.” Nobara’s eyes widened as the full realization crashed into her. Gojo get’s his lip gloss from your lips when you guys kiss. “OH.”

      Yuji’s mouth dropped open. Then he made the mistake of thinking about it.

      “I haven’t had any since I left,” Gojo finished for them, a smug smile still on his face.

      “That’s actually kinda cute but because it’s you two, gross.” Nobara admitted.

      Megumi sighed, looking deeply exhausted. “This is why I tell you two not to engage.”

      “Don’t worry,” he added teasingly, “maybe one day you’ll find someone whose lip gloss you want to steal too.”

      Yuji pointed a trembling finger at him. “Go buy some damn lip balm. I doubt Y/n sensei would want to kiss you if you come back looking like that.”

      “Yeah, seriously,” Nobara huffed. “For all our sakes.”

      Gojo hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm… nah.”

      Yuji looked horrified. “What do you mean ‘nah?’”

      “I’ll just wait until I see Y/n again.” And with that, Gojo happily went back to his usual antics, his students forever scarred, and his lips—still chapped—awaiting his return to you to be moisturized again.

[pyrodolls]

YANDERE! RE2 LEON KENNEDY X READER

WARNINGS: stalking, sub leon, ooc leon, slightly nsfw but not smut, leon is a creepy masochist, kidnapping, no use of y/n or name, gender neutral reader, not proofread bc it's 2 am for me rn

SUMMARY: you were never very close to leon, but you harbored some feelings for him. but your entire view on him changes when you get invited to his place and you find out how he truly feels about you...

A/N: remember when i used to be a havik account? good times. also it's been a hot minute since i played re2 so if it's ooc i apologize.

leon thought you looked so pretty in your sleep. you looked completely peaceful and unbothered. your bedsheets covered your entire body except for your ethereal face, which he could stare at all day. the moon provided a dim glow through your window, giving leon a clear view of your entire bedroom while you slept. sure it may be creepy or a bit stalker-ish of leon to watch you sleep, but he couldn't help it! you were just so irresistible. if only you knew how much he loved you, and how he was capable of protecting and providing for you. he has the potential to be the best boyfriend to you. but you didn't even know him that well, and he was fully aware of that fact. so that's why he suddenly got an idea while he watched you sleep that night. it was a brilliant idea. he could invite you to his place and gain your trust! leon didn't want to waste any time, so he would immediately ask you first thing in the morning.

when you woke up that morning, you got a call from leon a few minutes after you got out of bed.

"i know it's a bit early in the morning, i hope you weren't sleeping... if so, i'm really sorry. i mean, i didn't know when to call you because i didn't want to bother you but at the same time i just really wanted to ask you something." leon rambled.

"no worries, leon. you could never bother me. besides, i just got out of bed. this was so perfectly timed, it's almost as if you memorized my sleep schedule." you joked.

"oh, yeah, that's crazy. imagine that," leon chuckled nervously. "um, anyway, i was just thinking... would you like to come over to my place later? i just thought that we know each other a little bit, but i'd like to get to know you more, since i think you're pretty cool and stuff, so, uh, yeah..." he trailed off, waiting for an answer.

upon hearing his proposal, you lit up in excitement. you always thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, but you were too nervous to make the first move. this was a great opportunity.

leon was nervously fiddling with his fingers as he waited for your response. the longer you took to respond, the more his anxiety grew. he could feel the sweat forming on his skin and his chest tighten. what if you weren't interested in him in that way? was he being too forward? were you too busy?

you took a deep breath before you finally responded, mustering up the courage to say something. "i'll visit in a couple hours. i'll see you then, leon." you responded quickly, hanging up the phone and getting ready to see him.

leon's heart almost jumped out of his chest when you finally responded. he dropped his phone and immediately got to work, cleaning his place and hiding the pictures of you sleeping and your old clothes in a box under his couch.

he worked very hard to tidy everything up, wanting it to be perfect for you. only the best for you.

when he finished cleaning, he sat on the floor in front of his door like a puppy waiting for its owner. he patiently waited for you to knock on the door and come in, even though it would be a couple more hours until you arrived.

after a few hours of leon not moving a single inch, you finally arrived. as soon as your knuckles grazed the door to knock, leon swung it open with superhuman speed.

"thanks for coming! i hope the weather wasn't too harsh on you." leon greeted, stepping aside to let you in. he didn't actually know if the weather was harsh or not, he just said the first thing that came to his mind to start a conversation with you.

"thanks... and uh, the weather isn't bad at all. it's just a bit windy." you responded, awkwardly standing by the door.

leon was trying his hardest to act calm, but his heart was racing and he could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. you were standing right next to him! and you were alone together! he could've just died right then and there. instead of watching you through your window, you're right in front of him! instead of breaking into your house and stealing and sniffing your clothes, he can just smell you right by him! he was in heaven.

for a couple hours, you both spent time together by watching movies and chatting, getting to know each other more and more. leon even ordered dinner for you both, and somehow he got your favorite food, and he claimed it was just intuition. it didn't even feel like hours had passed, since you were both enjoying yourselves.

"so, uh, do you like this movie?" leon awkwardly spoke up, as you both sat on the couch in front of his tv. you simply smiled and nodded, too tired to respond. it was a random film that you weren't familiar with, and you watched it in silence next to him. you were both clearly tired after that long day, but leon didn't want you to leave just yet. so he started awkwardly starting new conversations or asking you questions, hoping to keep your attention on him. he loved the amount of attention you already gave him that day, and he was still giddy that you agreed to visit him in the first place. all he needs to stay happy is for you to look at him. but you were literally sitting on his couch and spending time with him, and it just made him so overwhelmed with joy. it gave him hope that you could work as a couple someday, and you would never know about his unorthodox antics to get to this point.

or at least that's what he thought.

at some point, leon excused himself to the restroom and left you boredly swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. but you felt your leg kick something hard underneath the couch. when you decided to investigate, you found a hidden box. curious as to why it was hidden, you decided to open it and look inside.

big mistake.

you found some old clothes and underwear that you thought you lost, pieces of your hair, various pictures of you sleeping, a few grocery lists and paperwork that you thought you threw away, and even pages ripped out of leon's journal describing his dark fantasies of you. some of it had some mysterious white stains on it. it was disgusting, and it made you sick to look through it. you thought leon was just a cute sweetheart, but it turned out he was a stalker and a creep. you were so shocked, that you didn't know what to do. should you run? call someone? but it was unsafe, because he clearly knew your address and a lot of your personal information. you had no idea what to do, so you stayed frozen in shock.

when leon returned, he saw the horrified look on your face and saw the box in your hands. his heart dropped. you knew his secret.

"shit. oh my god, uh, it's not what you think. i swear, i just, uh, fuck..." leon stammered, dropping down to his knees in shame.

"what the fuck is this? how long have you been stalking me, you fucking creep?" you yelled, standing over his shaking form.

"haah.. i... uh.." leon seemed to be breathing weirdly, and you weren't sure if it was out of anxiety or pleasure.

"and this," you picked up one of the pages from his journal and waved it in front of his face. "what the fuck is this? you are so fucked up... are you in love with me or something? or is it just some weird ass sexual obsession?"

"i.. i do love you! of course i do! this isn't how i wanted you to find out, but i really do love you! please don't take it the wrong way. i don't want to hurt you, i just want to be with you. i want to feel you and- and spend every waking moment of my life with you.. please don't hate me." leon begged, grasping onto your leg pathetically.

"you're sick in the head. and you're nothing but a pathetic stalker." you scoffed. all the trust and affection you had for him went out the window after you opened that box. there was no way he can get your trust back. hell, you were willing to cut contact with him and move to another country at that point.

"fuck... okay, maybe i am.. but, uh... shit." leon struggled to get his words out, as he felt aroused by your degradation. he never thought it would feel so good to have you yell at him. he could barely even speak, it just felt euphoric for you to scold him for his actions. you expected him to panic, but he seemed to have mixed feelings about the situation. he was still horrified that you discovered his dirty secret, but he had stars in his eyes the more you screamed at him.

"oh my god... you're a masochistic freak, huh? you like it when i yell at you? god, you're so fucked up." you spat, grabbing his collar and lifting him up to your level.

leon whimpered at the sudden contact, not responding to your degredation and simply squirming at your touch.

you sighed. "are you going to explain yourself? or are you just going to keep babbling nonsense?"

after getting no response, you dropped him and started to grab your things and leave.

"i.. i love you so much!" leon blurted out. "please don't leave! i promise, i can make it up to you! i'll do whatever you want! i can uh... i can provide for you! you won't have to lift a single finger for the rest of your life! and uh... i can cook and clean! sort of. i'll learn how to take care of you. i'll show you that i can be a good boyfriend if you let me! please, just love me! i did all these things for you and i promise i will stop if you want me to! please, don't leave."

leon stood in front of the door and desperately held you in place, not wanting to let you leave.

if you chose to stay, leon would be overjoyed. he would keep his promise and make it up to you, spending the rest of his life protecting you from harm and doing anything to keep you happy. your well-being is his number one priority, he'd make himself look like a fool if it meant getting a smile out of you. just let him love you. you don't need to give him anything in return!

if you chose to leave, leon would be a sobbing, sulking mess for about an hour or two before he decided on what to do. he still had all of your information. he knew pretty much everything about you. he would probably do something to force you into being with him, such as faking your death and kidnapping you. you have nobody else now. you have to be with leon now. he is the only one that still loves you and will keep you happy. even if you're mad at him now, he has hope that someday you will warm up to him and be willing to have a relationship with him. he'll wait patiently for that day to come.

[gublernatural]

!smut, mdni!

thinking about spencer reid who has had a crush on the pretty BAU agent at the desk across from him ever since she started. she has been so swamped with work and paperwork and life recently and spencer notices the small changes in her behaviors because he notices every little thing about her. he sees the tighter grip she holds on her pens, making the ink bleed through the paper just slightly. he notices the way she starts to slam her coffee cup on the desk as opposed to gently sitting it down. he notices the heavy uptick of the amount of cups she’s having.

and it’s worse when they’re given a case. naturally, since they get along so well and since they’re probably the two smartest people in the world, hotch pairs spencer and his crush up throughout their time in phoenix, arizona. spencer sees the way she’s always cracking her knuckles and rubbing at the small of her back. he hear the tone in which she talks to the officers.

so, when they’ve finally caught their unsub just 6 days later, spencer makes sure to pick up her case files before she can even make it from her hotel room. he tucks them neatly under him as he sits down on the jet, carefully hiding them from her. he holds them hostage, knowing if she doesn’t see them, she won’t worry about them. out of sight, out of mind, as they say. she falls asleep quickly in the seat across from spencer. he can’t help but ogle at her beautiful sleeping form, knowing she really needs the rest.

and, once they returned to the musty bullpen that belongs to the BAU, spencer stays with her. he watches as she starts the paperwork he’d sneakily put on her desk, not letting her catch on to the fact that he’d taken it. he tries his best to focus on his own work, but the way she keeps groaning as she rolls her head back has him completely distracted. he’s barely three pages in when hotch emerges from his office, bidding both of them a goodbye and complimenting their work on the case

that just leaves spencer and the pretty agent across from him in the space.

time moves slower now, spencer thinks, which makes it even more agonizing to listen to her try to work out her over-exhausted muscles by herself. he can’t help himself as he breaks the comfortable silence that had been established.

“hey, y/n,” he inquires, knowing she probably doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. his suspicions prove to be true when she doesn’t look up, letting out a less than enthusiastic “hm?”.

“do you know the benefits of getting a massage?” this piques her interest, wondering where spencer was going to take this. sure, the recent stress in her life had her muscles aching at every hour of the day, but she didn’t think anyone had picked up on it. “i know the basics, spence.” she giggles, finally looking over at him.

he can’t dwell on the fact that this is the first time she’s smiled in about two weeks because his brain starts moving too fast for his mouth to keep up, “yeah, most people know they helps with muscle aches but they actually have a lot of benefits. massages help improve circulation and joint mobility. there’s also research that connects them to cosmetic effects, like improved and more even skin tones.”

he doesn’t expect her to still be paying attention to him, but he’s pleasantly surprised at the small smile spreading across her face. “hm, that sounds amazing. if only i wasn’t trapped here doing paperwork at almost three in the morning.” she answers sarcastically, turning back to her work. “i could give you a massage.” spencer stumbles out.

her cheeks start to heat up as she makes eye contact with him, wondering where he would take this. “i mean,” he backtracks, “i’ve read books on how to do shoulder and back massages. my eidetic memory means i could probably do an almost perfect one, if you’re interested. i’ve noticed the way you’ve been struggling with muscle aches.”

her face feels like it’s on fire with the way he’s making her blush. “um, sure, spencer, if you don’t mind.” she stutters and stumbles as she tries to accept his offer. he excitedly pushes himself of his hair, pulling up a closer one behind her.

his large hands start to knead at the knots at the base of her neck. he can feel the tension she’s built up over the past couple of weeks and tries to recall the techniques he’d read about so long ago.

this quickly becomes a challenging feat, as he moves his hands along the expanse of her back. she lets out light moans when he massages a particularly tight part of her muscle. the moans and grunts she’s making are going right to spencer’s cock. he’s so glad he’s behind her, because the tent in his pants continues to grow as he reaches the base of her back, where most of her pain had been.

her light moans have now increased in volume, and spencer is sure he should stop. he was not expecting to have this reaction from her, or react this way to her. his mind is cloudy and beginning to fill with filthy images that match the sounds she’s making now.

and god, he should stop. he knows he should pull his hands away from her, especially as he feels his stomach tighten and his dick throb in his pants. but he can’t. he needs to reach his release so bad, so he presses his fingers harder into her back, listening to the joyful sounds she’s letting out.

he doesn’t pull his hands away until he finally cums in his pants, too embarrassed to keep going. “thank you, spence. i feel a lot better. a lot less tense now.” she thanks him as he turns away from her, pushing in the chair he’d pulled over. he makes a few exclamations, saying it was no problem at all, before dashing off to the bathroom to try and get himself cleaned up.

[supernovafics]

eddie has a crush on you

wc: 683

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

eddie has a crush on you, and it’s become blatantly obvious to everyone except you. 

only days after he met you at the hideout when robin introduced you both, he made you a mixtape. you had half-mentioned that you wanted to get into new music and eddie ran with that information, putting the tape together in just one night and then giving it to robin to give to you since she saw you more often. 

the next time you saw him at some group hangout at steve’s house, you told him that you really liked the songs he put on the mixtape and his heart nearly exploded out of his chest. he happily smiled and rambled on and on about some of the specific songs you said you liked, recommending you more songs from the artist and promising that he’d bring you their full album or just make you another mixtape altogether. 

that was when everyone saw it, how much he obviously liked you. but, you didn’t. 

you saw everything he did for you as just a simple friendly gesture, which was great in your eyes because you wanted more friends in this small town that you moved to only a few months ago.

when he was the only one that would come with you to see some new horror movie at the theater, or when he showed up during your quiet shifts at the bookstore and stayed for a few hours just to keep you company, you simply felt lucky to have him as a friend. 

robin was the only one to tell you differently, though. 

“oh, come on. he’s looked like a little puppy pining after you these past few weeks. i can’t believe you don’t see it.”

you laughed at her words. “you’re insane.”

“no, i’m right,” she said and you only shook your head in response, another laugh falling from your lips because you still couldn’t really believe it. 

that changed only a week later, when you got sick and robin told eddie, and then he showed up to your place armed with chicken noodle soup, cough syrup, and a few movies that you had mentioned to him one time that you really liked. 

“you made this yourself?” you asked as you poured the soup out of its tupperware and into a bowl. 

he smiled sheepishly at you as he nodded. “yeah… it actually wasn’t that hard, though. this lady at the grocery store helped me get the ingredients and then basically wrote down the instructions for me too.”

you gave him a small smile. “thank you.”

you looked down at the bowl of soup. him making it was probably the nicest thing someone had ever done for you, and that was when you finally knew. it was also when you realized how you felt too. 

you both settled on your couch after you ate the soup. one of the movies eddie brought over was playing in front of you and your head was against his shoulder because the cough syrup was making you a little sleepy. 

“eddie,” you said with a sniffle maybe halfway through the movie and turned your head to look at him. there was something about the drowsiness of the medicine that made you feel a little bold in that moment. “do you like me? like, more than just as a friend?”

how red his cheeks got at your questions told you everything you needed to know, but he still gave you a flustered response. “oh, um, yeah. yeah, i do… but, i completely understand if you don’t and—”

you cut him off with a quick shake of your head and you gave him a small smile. “no, it’s okay. i like you too.”

the immediate elated grin that broke out on his face at your words made you want to kiss him, but you refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to make him sick too; you were also too tired. 

“oh. nice. cool,” he said, trying to act normal about it all but was still smiling widely. 

you laughed a bit. “cool.”