#y/n is so me tho

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[flwrstqr]

✶ ENHYPEN REACTION WHEN YOU SAY "MARRY ME" RANDOMLY

엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ! r ・ 12OO fluff established relationship cw ・kisses, petnames (՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated and encouraged! ── click

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

you’re sitting on the couch, your head resting on heeseung’s shoulder, when you suddenly look up at him, a playful smile on your lips. “marry me,” you say, half-joking but with a hint of sincerity. heeseung’s eyes widen for a split second before he breaks into that adorable smile you love so much. “right now?” he teases, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “of course, baby. just give me the time and place.” you giggle, feeling your heart flutter as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. “i’m serious,” you mumble against his chest, and he lifts your chin to kiss your lips this time. “i know, my love,” he whispers, his voice soft, “and i’d say yes every time.”

rest of the members below !!

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

you’re lying in bed with jay, his arm wrapped around you, when you suddenly blurt out, “marry me.” he pauses, his eyes searching yours as if to see if you’re serious. “are you proposing to me right now?” he asks, a grin slowly spreading across his face. you nod, biting your lip with a small growing on your face. he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft kiss before whispering, “i’d marry you in a heartbeat, angel.” his words make your heart race, and you can’t help but smile as he pulls you closer, his thumb gently tracing circles on your skin. “i love you, you know that?” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “and i’ll be ready whenever you are.”

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed with jake, playfully nudging his shoulder when you suddenly say, “marry me.” his eyes widen for a split second before a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “dang it, i was gonna say it first,” he teases, shaking his head in mock frustration. you giggle, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “too slow, baby,” you reply. he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “fine, you win,” he murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose. “but only because i love you,” he adds, his tone light and playful.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

you’re lying on the couch with sunghoon, your head resting on his chest when you suddenly whisper, “marry me.” he freezes, eyes widening as he sits up slightly, his mind racing. “wait, so where and when? but then how many people would we invite? and what about—” you can’t help but giggle at his seriousness, interrupting him with a soft kiss on the cheek. “baby, it’s just a joke,” you say, smiling at his adorable overthinking. he blinks, processing your words, then relaxes, a shy smile forming on his lips. “oh, well, i was gonna say yes to that proposal—” before he can finish, you quickly add, “never mind, i’m marrying you"

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 (김선우)

ou suddenly blurt out, “marry me, sunoo.” his eyes widen in surprise before he breaks into the softest smile. “what?” he laughs, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. you grab his hand, squeezing it gently, “i mean it, marry me.” he looks at you with those eyes as he leans in closer, his nose brushing yours. “you’re so random, baby,” he whispers, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips. “but yes, i’ll marry you,” he adds, kissing you again, longer this time. his lips taste like strawberries, and you giggle against his mouth. “my forever love,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight like he never wants to let go. “let’s stay like this forever, yeah?” he says softly, planting a kiss on your forehead

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 (양정원)

you’re cuddled up with jungwon when you suddenly say, “marry me, wonnie.” he looks at you, surprised, then bursts into a soft laugh, his dimples showing. “what?” he teases, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. you pout playfully, “i’m serious! marry me!” he grins and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. “well, nice timing,” he says, opening it to reveal a beautiful ring. now you’re the one who’s shocked, eyes wide as he slips it onto your ring finger. “i was gonna ask you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you softly. “you beat me to it, my love,” he chuckles against your lips, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “so, is that a yes?” he asks, nuzzling your nose. you nod, still in disbelief, “yes, a million times yes,” you whisper back, kissing him 

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 (西村力)

you suddenly say, “marry me, riki.” his eyes widen in shock, and he looks at you. “just because i turned 18 doesn’t mean you can propose to me now,” he says, a teasing smirk on his lips. you roll your eyes, laughing. “it’s a joke, ki—” but before you can finish, he interrupts, pouting a little. “aww, i wanted it to be real so i could actually say yes.” your jaw drops, and you playfully shove him. “i hate you,” you grumble, but the warmth in your voice betrays you. he just chuckles, pulling you close and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “too late, you’re stuck with me forever now,” he whispers, his nose brushing against yours

[mysindividual]

Unknowingly, he admits | Aaron Hotchner

part 1

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem liaison reader

summary: another late night at the FBI for you meant Hotch’s office and paperwork. Aaron notices you’re unusually quiet and a bit distracted — which was never the case when you were around him, so when he gets his answer, he tries to stop you from making that very same mistake, he doesn’t realise it’s for his own selfish reasons.

warnings: age gap, boss x subordinate, ex talk, mentions of divorce, Hotch being hot and reader is all (๑♡ .̫ ♡๑) once again

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story!

"Straight through the glass door, then right." You stood at the entrance, signalling with your hand, explaining to the man who miraculously managed to get lost to your office.

"Oh, thank you." He turned to look at you once more, a mischievous but beautiful grin plastered across his face. "By the way, I'm Agent Nathaniel Smith."

He reached forward to shake your hand when you replied, "SSA Y/N. Nice to meet you."

Once he took off, you leaned on a door frame of your office, arms crossed over your chest. Then bobbing your head to the side, your gaze followed after the man as you admitted he was even better looking from behind.

Tight handshake, round from behind…

Pouting, you nodded at the thought.

"You meant Soft Spot Aaron’s (SSA) Y/N." A familiar voice came out of nowhere, humming in your ear. You jumped in your place, looked at him over you shoulder and rolled your eyes. Entering the office, Derek came in after you.

"What's up kiddo, you're not in the mood? You didn't like my friend Nathaniel there?" He teased, beaming widely, and pointing his thumb towards the exit where the man had left. You looked at him under your brows as you slumped back in your chair.

"What do you want, Derek?" You answered with a tinge of annoyance in your tone.

"Ah, that hurt." His hand on his heart feigning pain. With one leg propped on the edge, he perched himself on the table, enjoying a sip of coffee from his black FBI cup. You’d enjoy some coffee too. "Tell me, what's bothering you?"

"Ah, Derek..." You breathed out, leaning back in your chair, looking at the ceiling, fingers knitted at your stomach. "I don't think you want to hear that.”

He raised an eyebrow. "That bad? You know that’s my jam, I’m all ears, baby."

Deliberately raising your brow at him, you straightened in your seat and rolled your chair towards the table. “Really?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Sure I do, lil pumpkin.”

When you expressed a sense of superiority through a subtle yet discernible smirk, it wouldn’t be a lie were you to say that panic sprang through Derek’s eyes. So you quickly added, “Game on.”

~

Not long after Derek stormed out of your office, repeating ‘No, no, no!’ more to himself than you — either because he just lost money or because of the thing you’d told him — Hotch appeared at your door. You didn’t notice him, slumped back in your chair, one leg across the other, your hands playing with a pen.

If it weren’t for the two knocks against the door frame you wouldn’t have even noticed him.

You straightened your back, sitting more appropriately.

“Are you ready?” He inquired, his eyebrows inched upward as he looked upon you.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even through the smile that quirked on your lips at the sight of him, your eyes held the smallest hints of concern.

──────────────────────

"Is everything ok?" His voice, simultaneously stern and gentle, pierced through the hush that crept inside his office’s walls.

"Huh?" You hesitated, completely engrossed in the paperwork you were completing. It wouldn't be incorrect to say that you had no idea how you had managed to do it properly when your thoughts were occupied by something else. You were pleased when Hotch finally did speak and directed your attention towards him. Towards something that potentially could brighten your mood. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he replied, maintaining eye contact with you. “You've been unusually quiet."

You arched an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" Leaning back, you took a moment to escape all the work and overwhelming thoughts. "Are you suggesting I talk too much?"

Hotch recognised that small smile of yours, small but enough to encourage anyone — to rouse him.

Hotch knew you.

He responded in his very recognisable calm and professional voice. “That's what you said."

It felt like you two were having this conversation recently, but now the roles had been switched.

"Truth." You leaned in towards the table, reaching for the pen. "No, everything is fine."

But that itch in your head didn't give you peace, and you didn't have the will or enough concentration to continue working any longer with that on your mind, so you blurted out.

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “You remember Brad?”

You said it without even knowing why, perhaps because you needed someone to confide in without fear of judgment. Was Aaron Hotchner really that person? Anyway, there was no going back now.

“Brad?” Hotch furrowed, only a hint of a confusion gracing his features before realisation kicked in. “Brad.” He repeated his name blankly, then leaned back in his chair.

Perhaps not.

Of course Aaron knew your ex-boyfriend Brad. Everyone did. And no one liked him.

Well, they were kind of right.

The reason you'd been a bit absent — and why Derek stormed out of your office earlier — was because of your ex-boyfriend. A couple days ago, following your conversation with Hotch regarding his divorce, you got a message on your cell phone. Unknown number. Before even reading the whole message, you had quite a good laugh once you read Brad’s name signed at the end of it. Apparently, he wanted to see you. Of course, you would not consent in meeting him even in a state of madness.

But, having a mutual friend was never a good idea. Brad showed up at the bar last night while you were out with said friend. You were initially just being sarcastic, the irony was coming through. But as time went by, somehow Brad managed to soften you through conversation and touch.

The thought made your skin crawl.

“Yeah… That.very -same -Brad.” You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quivering as you glanced sideways. Everywhere except Hotch. Suddenly, saying it out loud to Hotch wasn’t your best plan. You were almost too shy admitting it. Or rather, admitting it to him. Saying it out loud made Aaron's presence in your chaos feel intimate and somewhat intrusive.

And why?

It was not the first time you two talked about personal lives, dammit, it wasn’t even a hundredth time! You had spent countless days and nights working together, on cases and press conferences, bars and restaurants with the rest of the team, and talked everything out of your lives.

Yet somehow this felt different.

Was it because you were talking about potential someone in your life? Or were you ashamed of admitting to Hotch you were even considering going back to that fool? Were you actually confessing to Aaron Hotchner himself — your boss — it had been a while since you had someone, that you had been that lonely and… needy?

Ugh.

Nonetheless, Aaron could sense the irony and uncertainty as you replied. He toyed with the pen, shaking it slightly in between his index and middle finger as his other hand held his hip.

The things he unknowingly did to you…

“And what does that very same Brad want? To reconcile?”

You quickly looked up at him again.

“I…” you opened your mouth, but the words died on your tongue. His brows were drawn together in a sympathetic concern, his eyes glowed with an inexplicable intensity… Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Did he actually care? To think anything else might have been in question would be insane. But Hotch’d always been protective over everyone in his team, and you were one of them. And no one ever liked Brad, so the stare he had been giving you made perfect sense. “Well… yes. Apparently.”

“And you are distracted by that why exactly?” There was no change in his even voice as he observed you, shifting his head from one side to other. The dim lighting coming from his desk lamp cast dancing shadow across his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about reconciling with…” He halted in self-control, exhaling as his eyes slowly closed and opened. Fatigue washed over him, Aaron concluded. Regardless, he wouldn’t want his professional facade off, at least not when such a topic was in talk. “Very same Brad.”

You would have almost laughed at that, but only managed to smile and shake your head. Brad was not it, you knew that. And yet you were still thinking about it, and why, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t have the answer. Maybe you were bored, or perhaps tired of waiting for someone right to come your way.

It’d been a long time since you had a proper date, to be quite frank. One that didn’t end up in you yawning your boredom away, having Penelope fake call you to leave, having to really leave for work, and so on. It had been depressing to say the least.

You didn’t have anyone or anything planned in your love life for months. The only thing going on in that field (if one could even consider it that) was the crush you had had on Hotch that was somehow worse than pms’ mood swings. One day you liked him, the next day you wanted to rip his hair out. You also knew Hotch was within the reach, and considering and hoping something might have happen with the two of you was equal to hoping for snow in the middle of July somewhere in south Italy.

Your crush on him was there just to spice up your boring day.

Or so you thought most of the time.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t approve. You never liked him.” Is all you said, beaming widely at Aaron. He, of course, didn’t miss the hints of sadness either in your voice. It bothered you for whatever reason that much that you hadn’t been acting all giggly like your usual self.

Aaron’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of his table, his hands drawn together in front of him. “And you… like him?” The tone he spoke in was low and measured, almost intimate.

The tone that felt like a caress.

The gaze that made you feel like you were made of glass and he was too focused to let it drop.

You gulped.

“I- I don’t know.” You whispered through a nervous smile.

You lied. You knew that, Hotch knew that. And the thought of that pinched at your heart.

Some mistakes were just not worth making twice.

“If you are asking about my opinion… which I suppose you might not, but I can’t sit here and watch you make that mistake. But of course, this is about you and what you want.”

To Hotch, this was completely normal. It was almost like a friend helping a friend, or rather a boss advising his subordinate. After all, you were there for him when he needed company — when he parted his path with Haley. So, no, nothing unusual.

Everyone on the team disliked Brad. When she first got on the team, she was in relationship with Brad. They’d been together for three years, Aaron remembered. But not long after joining the team, they split up. Even back then everyone cheered her on and told her it was the right thing to do. Everyone except him, but the reason was that she was a newbie at the time, so of course he didn’t want to pry. Now, it was different… somehow.

“I know you don’t think he changed, you are not naive. But do you think it’s worth it?” His gaze assessed you for a moment before his dark eyebrows lifted, pausing briefly before he continued gingerly. “Does he notice the way you bite inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from saying something you might regret? Or the way you play with your earring when you’re not really paying attention, lost in your own schemes? That stress and all the pictures that come through your desk make you reach for favorite snack in comfort? Or that you smile the most when you have the most in your head?”

Silence.

Brad was suddenly long gone from your brain. The words Hotch spoke made a vertigo in your head, lying to you that there was more to it than it seemed. But at the moment nothing was more important than those little lies he you fed yourself with.

But then your gaze fell upon his hand.

The wedding ring still firmly and warmly hugged his finger making your heart drop.

Hope is the joy of a fool, so they say.

Not that you desired him to divorce Haley. Never. It just reminded you that Haley was and would still be a huge part in his life, and nothing, nothing could ever happen between the two of you. He would always love Haley. So it was indeed a good reminder to keep your head cool, your expectations zero.

His eyes averted for a second or two before he looked up at you again, adding softly — in his voice a mix of gentleness and playfulness. “Or the way your eyes get big and dark when you plead…”

A softness came over your features, a semblance of a smile gently flickered onto your lips. “You know about that?”

Hotch gave you a look that said “Of course I know about that”.

Busted, you nodded. “Of course you do.”

He sighed softly, his face showing exhaustion, a craving for care and an opportunity to relax.

“Now, I know it’s the whole point of our job. To profile people. To notice such things about others, but… Our other half should be just as considerate and aware of us. And I believe you deserve better.”

As he breathed the last words out, he leaned back, his head resting on the back of his chair, the almost see-through fabric of his shirt hugging his broad shoulders. Reaching up his collar, he unbuttoned the shirt — not very chastely as thought it were suffocating him, and loosened his tie.

It was suddenly getting warm with everything he had on his mind — work, fatigue and insomnia, Haley and Jack, divorce, you…

Yeah, you also.

As he closed his eyes, something between a sigh and a moan escaped his throat.

And while all this was happening in front of your eyes, you were practically melting in your seat at the sound he made, at the sight in front of you. You gaped at your boss unashamedly, as if you were hypnotised, your lips slightly parting and only then feeling the dryness of them. You swallowed, wishing you could drink in that sight of him. Oh, you so wanted to… many things. You envisioned getting up from your chair, leaving a trail on his table with your fingers as you made your way towards him before settling down onto his lap and leaving kisses up his jaw.

“Hotch…” you called out absent-mindedly, slowly, as though the words left you without your consent, still very lost in your imagination. “You are right. I deserve something far better than him.”

Not really hearing what you had said, he winced back, eyes and hands searching for a file on his desk. “We should get back to work. I need you to take a look at this report on the press conference you held in Kansas City.”

Trying to shake off that picture in your head, you reached for the document he held for you and put it down on the table. The letters were mix of some unknown words, your eyes only skimming over the files.

If concentrating was hard before, now it was completely impossible.

Sneaking a small look at him, you contemplated about the words he said just minutes ago.

You weren’t stupid — you were aware he’d have to pick up a few ticks and tells of yours and everyone’s on the team, but did he then also know about your silly little crush, and how attracted to him you were? Had he been profiling you all this time like he profiled the unsubs? Did he go in depths into his profiling of you? The thought made your heart squeeze in regret of some not-so-appropriate thoughts and actions you had done.

But then again, deep down you knew he didn’t. It didn’t make sense. Things would have been way different between the two of you had he known.

At last you concluded it was all right.

And that was when you realised he was right.

You had been fidgeting with your earring! Quickly stopping, cursing yourself inside, you took the paper in your hand, giving your best to concentrate and read.

You didn’t even notice you’d had that tick, Brad knew even less.

But Hotch knew. The thought made your heart waltz inside your chest, it was almost too hard not to smile.

But what you also missed was that Hotch had seen your actions causing a quick, but not small smile spread across his lips.

“So I thought we don’t profile each others,” you added, pretending to had been reading the report as silence had spread between you two. “And you say I’m not naive.”

Looking up at him under your brows, you didn’t expect he would have already welcomed you with a biggest grin you’d ever seen on him.

You both chuckled out loud, shaking your heads.

“I didn’t profile you…”

“Aha, aha.” You spoke over him, pretending you didn’t want to listen, like you didn’t believe him. “So you’ve said.”

“When you spend time with someone, you have to notice…”

Long into the night, soft chuckles and small voices could be heard outside of his dimly lit office.

A profiler never misses.

Or that was an excuse he said to himself.

[diorgirl444]

dallas 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 winston

[spaciebabie]

sun: my bad dawg.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU DRINK YOUR COFFEE BLACK AND WE ARE AFRAID OF EACH OTHER ; SHOKO IEIRI

synopsis; shoko makes you a morning cup of coffee; turns out she’s not very good at that, but it’s the thought that counts.

word count; 4.2k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader (but written w a fem!reader in mind), fluff fluff fluff!!, just normal morning shenanigans at the ieiri household, implied stsg (my brand), shoko can be a girlfailure. as a treat, reader is absolutely whipped (and so am i)

a/n; been writing too much gojo n geto lately. neglecting my wife :((((((( let it be known that i am a shoko stan first human second. this one is for my wlws pls eat up!!!!

you wake up to the sound of your girlfriend’s voice.

melodic and soft, low and saccharine; almost like she’s coaxing you out of hiding. a sound so lovely you wish you could drown in it, laced together with a distinctly raspy tilt, one you can only attribute to the copious amounts of cigarettes she smoked back in high school. a leftover residue, bittersweet memories ghosting her lips — one that gets you a little bit weak in the knees.

in the mornings, it’s particularly prominent, a little intoxicating. manifesting itself as a shiver down your spine, a jolt of your heartbeat, a flush on your skin for every word that she speaks. it’s enough to have you slipping from sleep’s embrace, carried back into the cradle of reality.

why you notice her voice first, and not the smell of something burning — or the sound of insistent beeping — is honestly beyond you. 

it doesn’t take long for your sleepy brain to react, however, a pang of anxiety rushing through your slumbering veins. hurriedly stirring you awake. abrupting your dreamlike, drowsy state, tangled up in silken sheets with your neck smudged by lipstick marks; an alluring red, one shoko typically favors when she’s going out for a drink. coming home just a tiny bit tipsy, affectionate and giggly.

and when your eyelids finally flutter open, your mind melting into the motion of the waking world, you shoot up in a sudden bout of panic.

because fuck, you belatedly, groggily realize — that’s the fucking fire alarm.

and shoko is spewing curses, from afar, loud enough that you can hear it even through the fog of fatigue that clouds your brain. a raspy string of words that you don’t quite catch, but they’re enough to have you scrambling out of bed, nearly bumping into the doorframe as you kick the blanket off your legs.

”what happened?” you croak out, chest heaving a little, having stumbled into the smoke-filled kitchen. disgruntled, reeling with the aftermath of your deep slumber, cold air nipping at your bare skin. the balcony door is open, and the smell of rain invades your apartment.

when you look out the window, all you see is a gray sky, blanketed by a thick coating of wool. smothered by clouds, not a single ray of sunlight slipping through the cracks. the world smells dewy and sweet, asphalt and flowers melting into a nostalgic fragrance, one that reminds you a bit of high school smoke breaks — huddling under the slide at the nearest playground, watching a pretty girl wrap her lips around a cigarette, exhaling smoke just for it to melt into the pouring rain.

one that reminds you a bit of the woman right in front of you, balancing on a chair and stretching her goosebump-ridden arms towards the ceiling, wearing nothing but a lacey bra and a pair of unbuttoned jeans. messy hair that cascades down her back, brows furrowed, eyes simmering with irritation — before flitting over to meet your own.

shoko blinks. then sighs. ”you woke up?” she mutters, and you try not to shiver when the tremor of her voice deepens, morning-fatigue seeping into the syllables. “fuck. sorry, i —”

she stumbles a little, shifting her weight from one foot to another, and you take a step forward. on instinct, as if getting ready to cushion her fall. ready to be of service, in any way you can.

”don’t worry,” she fumbles with the fire alarm, clicking her tongue. nails scraping against plastic. “it’s fine, i just need to — there we go.” 

finally, the beeping stops. and your shoulders relax, immediately, the tight little ball inside your chest untangling. with a deep inhale, the fragrance of espresso and smoke fills your nostrils, and a sense of calm washes over you. rooting your feet to the floor. 

shoko settles down, too, seating herself on the wooden chair. a huff slipping from her lips. they’re smudged, a blurry red she still hasn’t found the energy to wipe away. 

bringing a hand up to card through her hair, lithe fingers in between her messy auburn locks, she exhales. a blend between fatigue and relief.

”god. i need a cig.”

a moment passes. she raises her head, and sees the sleepy little pout playing at your lips — her eyes softening. blooming with something fond. giving you a smile, tired, small. but reassuring. 

”i’m just kidding, love,” she chuckles. “relax.”

”don’t joke about that,” you frown, rubbing the sleep from your weary eyes. stifling a tiny yawn. ”.. took me so long to get you to quit.”

(sometimes you can still see the smoke leave her lungs when she exhales.)

shoko keeps smiling, but doesn’t say anything else. the pitter patter of rain against your balcony railing fills the silence of the kitchen, still brimming with a light layer of smoke, slowly dwindling. cold air drawing it out. clad only in one of suguru’s old t-shirts, you shiver, and shoko seems to notice.

“good morning,” she coaxes, opening her arms slightly — and you move forward, a moth to a flame. without thinking. “sorry for waking you.”

she wraps her arms around your waist, attaching her jaw to the curve of your shoulder, and you melt into the embrace. leaning close, to tuck yourself into her neck. she smells like lavender shampoo. “‘s fine,” you mumble, a yawn muffled into her collarbone. “what happened? are you okay?”

when her plump lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck, right next to one of the kiss marks she left there last night, you can’t help but shiver again. she must feel it, because you can hear the smile she’s trying to bite back in her voice when she answers.

“mm,” she hums, a gravelly noise that makes your throat clog up a little. “just burned something, it’s fine. don’t worry.”

tentatively, you take a step back. just to see her. gazing down at her, into her hazel eyes, the fading crescents beneath them. not as dark as they used to be, not as heavy with lost sleep.

shoko is gorgeous. always, every single day, but you think she’s particularly breathtaking like this. when it’s early, and she’s groggy and a little disheveled, eyes weary and lipstick smudged — bra strap close to slipping off her shoulder, black lace against pale skin, moles littering her forearms and chest like star clusters. oversized jeans that expose the curve of her waist, the fat of her hips, and you don’t notice how intently you’re staring until shoko’s raspy voice reaches your burning ears.

“eyes up here, baby.”

you do as you’re told, and she stifles a chuckle. eyes rich with amusement. you try not to blush.

“sorry.” you chew at the inside of your cheek. eyes trailing to the houseplants by the windowsill. “.. you’re just so pretty.”

shoko tilts her head, an exasperated little breath rolling off her tongue. almost a coo. she’s incapable of blushing; but if she wasn’t, you’re sure she'd blush. 

“thanks.” her touch is light, fingertips trailing down the expanse of your arm. “you are, too. red is a good colour on you.”

you blink. shoko’s eyes are crinkled at the edges, soft lines of crows’ feet, and you huff when you realize she’s talking about the marks on your neck. suddenly a little self-conscious, you bring a hand up to rub at the skin — as if hoping to wipe them away. you doubt it works. shoko just breathes out an airy chuckle, getting up from her seat.

she looks tired, still. stretching her limbs out, sleepily, blinking drowsily.

and it’s odd, you think. that she got up this early, that she didn’t cling to you and make you stay with her in bed like she usually does. you don’t know anyone who loves sleeping in more than shoko does. especially after a night out.

so it’s strange. very strange.

“hey, sho.”

“hm?”

you tilt your head. “why are you up this early, anyway?”

she blinks, and then glances at the clock on the wall. ticking idly, counting down. when she looks back at you, she’s got a single eyebrow raised. “it’s not really early.”

“for you it is,” you quip, something resembling a grin tugging at your lips. and she rolls her eyes, smiling, before linking her arm with yours. bringing you to the stove.

“i was, uh —“ a pause. she does a little cough under her breath, clearing her throat. “trying to make coffee.”

silently, you look at the mess in front of you; what used to be your squeaky-clean stovetop, now stained with a muddy, rusty residue. an unassuming coffee pot sits to the side, having seemingly boiled over, smoke still drifting up into the air.

shoko cringes, a little, before a wry smile makes its way to her lips. ”it was…” she clicks her tongue. sighing softly. ”an attempt.”

”… wait.” you turn to look at her, dubiously, and she avoids your gaze. ”that’s what you burned? coffee?” still no answer. a tiny smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help it if your voice comes out sounding a little teasing. ”how is that even possible?”

”look,” shoko exhales, heavy. ”i don’t know, okay? i think it was the coffee grounds, or something. i look away for one second, and it’s just —”

a little giggle slips from your lips, and shoko shoots you a glare. mostly harmless, but she untangles her arm from your own. ”sorry, it’s just —” you apologize, failing to hide your amusement. ”why didn’t you just use the espresso machine, honey?”

she bites her lip, and you think she might be just a little embarrassed. averting her gaze, briefly flitting towards the machine in question. ”… i didn’t know how to use it,” she mutters. ”i’ve seen you do it, obviously, but i never paid attention to the steps.”

a smile graces your lips. “it’s not that complicated once you know how it works,” you nudge her arm with your elbow. ”it just looks that way.”

she hums. a click of her tongue, as she adjusts her bra strap. ”well, anyway. i tried. so.”

”right.” you try to stifle a grin, to no avail. ”so… you burned your coffee.”

”and woke you up.” she grins, herself, just a tiny bit self-deprecating. but pretty, always, hair falling over her eyes when she tilts her head. ”a mess, aren’t i?”

”not at all.”

shoko looks at you, and your eyes meet hers. unflinchingly. tired irises falling into the gentle hue of your own, trickling down to the curve of your lips. there’s an honesty to your voice that she’s never quite been able to deal with. 

(love, she thinks. a kind of love she finds somewhat hard to stomach. a sea of acceptance that she fears she’ll eventually drown in.)

before she can properly fall into a morning spiral, you stretch your neck a bit, idly, and she gets a good look at the red marks littering your skin. the way your pulse beats at the base of your throat. tender, slight, a mantra she’s grown just a little bit addicted to. 

”why, though?” you hum, and shoko blinks. snapped out of her thoughts, and back into reality. back into you, the faux pout on your lips. playful, but a little confused. ”i thought i was the coffee brewer of this relationship…” 

and it’s true. you’ve been making shoko’s morning cups of coffee for a while, now, even before you moved in together. she likes it black, sometimes with a drop of cream, sometimes with a cube of sugar. never both. you think it’s very like her, to tiptoe that line between bitter and sweet — never entirely giving in to one or the other. there’s a balance to shoko, something stable. something for you to hold on to, a bitter tinge or syrupy taste that always leaves you yearning for more.

truthfully, your coffee brewing skills aren’t anything special. but it makes shoko happy, to wake up and stumble into the kitchen, being able to hug your back. being handed a cup of fresh coffee. sipping from it in silence, muttering out a groggy good morning that makes your heart flutter.

(to you, it’s precious. that lilt of her voice, that bittersweet tinge. the dearest thing in the world.)

plump bottom lip trapped between her teeth, shoko furrows her brows. ever so slightly. nails tapping at the edge of the kitchen counter, a series of satisfying clicks against the marble. “… well.” 

she clears her throat, but doesn’t say anything else. a moment passes. you try to find the answer in the curve of her lips, the crease of her brow, in the depths of her eyes — but you don’t succeed.

something discomforting settles in the bottom of your throat. almost uncertain, maybe a bit anxious. sheepish, as your tired mind spins in circles. parting your lips. hesitant.

“do you… not like the way i make it?” there’s a dejected tilt to your voice when it spills out, one that makes you feel a little silly. so you smile, or try to, eyes trailing towards the windows; you note that the rain has grown heavier. “i can change how —“

“what?” shoko cuts you off. “no. no, of course not — your coffee’s perfect. honestly.”

again, your eyes meet. and again, shoko seems to be struggling with finding the right words. or maybe she’s struggling to voice them.

“i just… haah.” she brings a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. you just watch, silent, hungry to hear the thoughts she’s not letting you in on.

a beat. again, the sound of the rain against steel railings, the scent of honeydew and concrete. espresso-flavored smoke, almost entirely faded, leaving only cold air to nip at your thighs. 

and again, as always, inevitably, your eyes are fixed on shoko — a moth to her flame. helpless to the cinders that ghost at your skin whenever she looks at you. a certain contemplation swims inside her eyes, simmering beneath the surface, as she chews gently at the plush of her lips. before turning to face you.

you can only blink. but shoko finally speaks, clearing her throat in a way that strikes you as rather sheepish.

“well — you’re always the one doing all the work. aren’t you?” her voice trickles out into the air, low and saccharine, a blanket pulled over your shoulders. so soft you hold your breath and strain your ears, just to make sure you hear it. “i guess i figured… i don’t know.”

shoko pauses, again, and you can almost delude yourself into thinking there’s a cherry red tint to the tips of her ears. when she parts her lips, that usually carefree voice of hers sounds almost meek. almost, but not quite. more like unsure. embarrassed?

another moment passes, entirely silent. shoko swallows her pride.

“.. satoru always brags about suguru making him those fucked up sugary drinks he likes,“ she mumbles. turning around, to rest her back against the counter, looking out at the downpour. “says it makes him feel so loved. or whatnot. so i just —“ 

she waves her hand, haphazardly. 

“you know.“

a beat. then another. you can physically feel your lips part, a kind of surprise weaving itself into the contours of your face. 

and when you finally speak, your voice comes out a little garbled, scrambling for the right words. not sure if you should feel deeply amused, or just a tiny bit horrified. “wait. you’re saying you…” a moment passes. silent, slow, and all you can do is blink owlishly. in disbelief.

“… got inspired by suguru?”

shoko groans, deep and gravelly, almost comically agonized. covering her face with her pretty hands. “don’t say it,” she pleads, “you’re making it sound as dumb as it is.”

a little giggle slips from your lips. accidental, but she still shoots you a displeased look, huffing under her breath. crossing her arms just to tap at her forearm with her nimble fingers. frowning.

“don’t laugh at me.”

“sorry,” you search for her gaze, but she keeps looking ahead. so stubborn. “i don’t mean to, ‘s just — not very like you, y’know?”

shoko exhales. nearly a huff, but not quite. and you think she must be embarrassed, gnawing at her lip like that, fingers eagerly searching for something to fidget with. it makes you soften, impeccably, the blood inside your veins warming up beneath your skin. stirring you, coaxing you into soothing her. your very own heartbeat seems to be a little enamored with shoko ieiri.

”i appreciate the thought,” you smile. a tender tone, sincere. lingering with amusement. “really. but let’s not base our entire relationship around satoru and suguru of all people, alright?”

and again, she sighs. brittle, a little fatigued. brows scrunching together. ”look, i —”

a pause. she gnaws at her plump bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering like a battered heartbeat. her voice comes out sounding soft, all duvet pillows and fresh lavender, a lilt that anchors you to earth. sweet words. so honest it makes your breath hitch.

”i want to take care of you.”

and this time, you’re the flustered one. burning under her gaze, feeling a heat blossom on your skin. feeling the fervent pitter patter of your heartbeat, as her pretty eyes look into yours. a nice mocha brown. 

but even with the fresh embarrassment trickling through your veins, you find it in you to speak. desperate, maybe, to cross the distance between you — even when it borders on non-existent. desperate to feel your heartbeats synchronize, figuratively or literally. to stitch them together.

“i want to take care of you, too,” you echo, looking down at the floor. and then back at your girlfriend. hesitant, a tad shy. but sincere.

a sincerity so palpable it makes shoko feel a little jealous. 

(sometimes, she finds herself wanting to put a hand inside your chest. dig around your organs, run her fingertips down every single one, until she finds what she's looking for. that miraculous something that makes you stick around, that makes you so frighteningly easy to love. that makes her want to safeguard you so terribly.)

”then let’s take care of each other,” she breathes, a small smile slipping into the curve of her lips. reaching out to brush against your knuckle, weave your fingers together. delicate. 

she clears her throat. “… i guess.” 

and you can’t help but smile. somewhat cheeky, a little teasing. “ah,” your eyes crinkle, and you stifle a coo. “did that embarrass you?”

a sharp little scoff. shoko gives you a lazy grin, paired with a soft roll of her eyes. brushing her thumb across your knuckles, even still. “oh, shut up.”

the world seems to still, ever so slightly, as you look into each other’s eyes. like everything else is just background noise, from the pitter patter of the rain to the fading smell of coffee all around you. shoko looks at you like she’s trying to see inside your brain, see what makes you tick, see you for what you are.

and when she eventually leans in for a kiss, you’re pliant. expectant. her lips against yours, breathing you in, as soft as ever. like she’s afraid of getting too greedy. she tastes like nectar and cosmetics.

“give me some time,” she says, after pulling back. hands on your waist, squeezing softly. “i’ll make you another cup right now.”

”sure you don’t want me to do it?” you ask. “i don’t mind.”

another little scoff. offended. ”look, i’m not incompetent, okay? i’m just not used to it.” she untangles herself from you, warmth slipping away. you will yourself not to chase it. “just stand there and look pretty for me.”

and she smiles, when those words make you giggle, infected by your sleepy joy. something soft and silky blooms inside her ribcage, mirrored by the glimmer in your eyes when you intertwine your hands again. fingertips brushing against each other, delicate, a love that’s handled with care.

”.. i like making you coffee,” you whisper after a beat. smiling. under your breath, like you’re telling her a secret. ”it makes me happy.”

a moment passes. something in shoko’s bones still, for a second, enough for you to notice. and her eyes fill with a kind of hesitance. doubt, maybe. or fear.

when shoko opens up to you, it’s always like this. sleepy, rainy days, or tipsy afternoons. in no more than a whisper, a fragile breath, the ghost of a confession. when you can feel her heartbeat, one finger on her wrist, listening to the rhythm of her pulse. intimate. a little clumsy, but…

”i just don’t want you to spend too much of yourself on me.”

the words are spoken in passing, almost casually, a lighthearted kind of resignation. a hungry ghost. one that follows her, follows you. suguru and satoru, too. there’s a lump in her throat, you can tell, something that makes it a little harder to say what she means. an intimacy that frightens her in a way nothing else can; frightened to hold it in her palms, to keep it close without having it break apart.

(not just her — you all are. all four of you. that’s why you've always been together, you think, why you always will be. four hedgehogs huddling together in the cold of night, too desperate for warmth to stay away from each other's spines.)

carefully, almost cautiously, you bring her hand to your lips. as if you’re handling a flimsy sheet of glass. featherlight, a touch so tender you hope she knows what you’re about to say before the words leave your throat.

“you’re worth it,” is whispered against her skin, your lips against her knuckles. shoko softens, but you think the sigh that slips from her lips sounds just a little shaky. “always.”

and finally, you know you aren't deluding yourself. it’s there, visible, the cherry red of her ears; a red that matches the lipstick on your skin. a flush that never travels down to her face. but it’s enough.

she clears her throat. voice beginning to change shape, slowly but surely, morning fatigue peeled off with the ticking of the clock. there’s still a raspy residue, leftover smoke that’ll never quite leave her lungs, but it’s silkier now. trickling like honey from her parted lips.

and it’s terribly soft, her tongue twisting around the vowels, a low lilt that drips with tenderness. she wills herself to smile. tired, but fond. “just let me make you one cup, then.”

so you do.

you let her, after briefly pointing out the functions of the far too expensive espresso machine that satoru bought you when you first moved in, and she listens intently. those pretty eyes, the intelligence behind them, her lips pursed in focus. shoko’s a genius, you’ve always thought — so effortlessly good at memorization, at figuring out how things work. what ties everything together. 

you think it’s a little comical that she struggled so much with making coffee, of all things, but you choose to attribute it to her slight hangover.  

because she’s focused, when she begins to fiddle with the machine. attentive. as if she’s dissecting it. a satisfaction in the way she moves, the way everything clicks into place as she works. everything serves a purpose, every single part in the machinery, every tube or pump of caffeine. she compares it to the human body, a glint in her eyes, and you can’t disagree.

all you can do is watch her. silently, entirely mesmerized. sitting on the kitchen counter, bare thighs against the marble, swinging your legs. telling her about the dream you had, while she listens. always.

a fresh, thick aroma of espresso and rainwater begins to waft through the apartment. one you drink in, greedy, steam filling your lungs. as you admire how the tiny droplets bounce off the hyacinths blooming on your balcony.

and when she’s finished, producing one cup of espresso, tailored to your liking, you can’t still the beating of your heart. unsure if you should blame it on the caffeine yet to enter your veins, or the proud smile that lingers on your girlfriend’s lips. maybe the way her fingers curl around the handle, the way a soft here, baby, spills from her smudged lips. all of the above, probably.

she’s gorgeous. breathtaking. sometimes you want to give her everything, more than you could live without. your heart, your lungs, your eyes. anything she asks for.

but she would never. all she’ll ever need is for you to keep sticking around, keep telling her about your silly dreams, keep letting her feel the beat of your pulse at the base of your throat. a mantra she’s fallen a little bit in love with.

and when you put your lips against the ceramic, and a bittersweet scent fills your lungs, you think you can taste it. that care, a love soft enough to mend all the jagged edges of your heart.

shoko smiles. smoothing a stray eyelash from your skin, thumb against your cheekbone. “how is it?”

(you swear it’s the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.)

[jadewritesficshere]

Wrecked

Eddie Munson x Reader

Content: oral (male receiving) slight sub!Eddie. Listen I just really wanna suck him

18+ only

Your eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness in the room as the VHS shut off with a click. The light from the TV seemed harsh, jarring you from the quietness surrounding you. It woke you up from your sleepy state, heart thumping wildly as you realized you had fallen asleep against Eddie. Eddie, who talked a mile a minute and told you interesting facts while watching movies, who had gone silent almost an hour ago as you started to drift off. Eddie, who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, hand lazily drawing patterns on your arm where it rested. Your head against his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. "Sorry," you yawned as you sat up," Did I fall asleep?"

Eddie blinked slowly before smiling," Don't worry 'bout it. You need to rest." You lazily smile at him as he stands up. He stretches slowly, joints popping that remind you that neither of you are near your teens anymore. He reaches his arms above his head in a stretch, shirt traveling up just enough to give you a sneak peak of his stomach. Pale skin that showed the stark colors of the dragon curled over the top of his belly button. The dragon that had it's mouth open as if it was blowing fire, fire that actually was pink scars courtesy of the demobats. The scars that he always had a different story for when people saw ("I got attacked by a bear." "A witch cursed me." "I didn't eat my vegetables." "I used to defuse bombs").

Your eyes caught on his belly button, the stupid piercing he got claiming "a dragon had to have a hoard". The blue light from the tv causing the jewelry to glint, showing a kaleidoscope of rainbows in the opal gemstones. Your breath caught at the smattering of hair that trailed down from his belly button. Down to the band of his sweatpants that hung low on his hips. Plaid boxers peeking over the hem of his pants obscured your view of the slight v shape of his hips. The TV light providing the perfect amount of light and shadow to show the slight definition of his abs he had gained from long hours as a mechanic.

The sting from biting your lip pulled you from your casual perusal of Eddie's frame. Eddie who hadn't even noticed and was waving his hands around talking as he stared off at the wall,"- but those are just rumors. I mean if they do make a movie, it better be close to the book. No creative liberties. I want to see the book come to life, ya know? I want the dwarves to have full beards, especially the women and-"

You stand up abruptly," Shut the fuck up." Eddie pauses at your abrupt words and movement. Silence spans a few seconds as he notices the glimmer in your eyes," Excuse you?" You hum, running your eyes up and down his frame. Eddie was definitely a man, no longer the boy you had met in high school. He had filled out more, had some scruff on his jawline. His sweatpants had a hole in his knee and there was a stain on his shirt, but he had never looked more beautiful to you. And you had never wanted to fuck him more.

Eddie tilted his head slightly, untamed and frizzy curls bouncing as he tried to decipher the look in your eye. "I will gladly listen to this conversation, but I can't pay attention right now. Not when you're," you wave your hand gesturing to him," that!" Eddie scoffs," Excuse you? That?." One step is all it takes to get in his space, Eddie instinctively taking a step back.

You push on his chest, firm beneath your open palms, causing him to stumble back into the couch. He lands with a grunt and looks up at you with a look of exasperation. He goes to open his mouth to say what you're sure is a snarky remark, but all thoughts leave his head as you grab his knees spreading them open and kneeling in front of him. His jaw drops as he stares at you between his legs. You bat your lashes at him in what you hope is a seductive look, but let's be honest, both you and Eddie suck at flirting. You trail one hand up from his knee, barely touching as your fingers dance their way up his thigh. His cheeks flush, a beautiful dusty pink that spreads down his neck towards his chest. You wonder how far that blush goes as you lift the hem of his shirt.

Eddie is staring at you, frozen in time. You clearing your throat as you tug on his shirt knocks him from his reverie. "Yeah, okay, fuck uh yea." He leans forward enough to pull the shirt over his head. You lick your lips at the expanse of tattooed skin you see. You lean in, trying to decide where to start. You look up through your eyelids at him, slowly licking the happy trail, that definitely made you happy. The image of you licking his skin, peering up at him through your lashes, was burned into Eddie's retinas. Eddie's knuckles were white as he gripped the couch cushions. His stomach flexed unintentionally at the warmth of your tongue. The small whimper he let out fueled your desire, heat pooling low in your stomach. You nip and suck at his hips, one hand resting on his thigh, the other curled around his back to bring him closer to you. You pulled back after adding a lovely red mark that you know will fade to a bruise.

You can't believe you had fallen asleep next to this man, now the only thoughts involving a bed also involved cardio. You lightly trail a finger over the prominent bulge in his pants, earning a sharply inhaled breath and a buck of his hips. "Jesus fucking Christ," he groans, voice lower then you've ever heard. You lick your lips as your hands reach for the hem of his pants and-

"Wait!" Eddie startles you, and you glance up at his wrecked face. "Huh?" You blink a few times starting to pull back," Do you not..?" "No! No I do!" Eddie clears his throat and grabs the pillow next to him," I just...you should be comfortable..." His face flushes as he holds the pillow between you two, causing you to chuckle. You grab the pillow and put it under your knees, even if you don't need it. "Thanks baby. You're so thoughtful." Eddie preens under the praise, looking smug. Your hands return to his waist band, tugging his pants and boxers down. He lifts his hips to help and-

You've never thought a dick to be pretty before. Sure, you've seen some good ones but this? He's long, curved slightly to the right. Precum beading at the top of a head that is flushed so red it's almost purple. A prominent vein trailing the underside of his dick that you want to lick up. Curls around the base that were trimmed but still unruly. The tension is thick as you stare at his dick, wondering where to start. He twitches under your heavy gaze. "C'mon, don't make me wait.." Eddie mumbles. "You'll take what I give you, and you'll be thankful." You snap back, watching the man pout slightly. For all his bravado and extroverted demeanor, he has no power here and he knows it.

But you decide to have mercy on him as you flatten your tongue against his dick, deciding to follow the vein from his base to his tip. Eddie lets out a high-pitched whine followed by a "thank you", but you don't really care. Yes, it feels good for him, but this is also for your pleasure. You swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, tasting the salty essence. Eddie's hand finds the back of your head instinctively, not using any real force or grip. When you fully envelope his tip with your warm mouth and suck, all coherent thoughts of his are gone. He barely can remember his own name. One of your hands holding his hips back so he can't thrust up, the other wrapped around his dick slowly moving up and down.

Eddie sits there babbling nonsense, he never could stay quiet for long. And you wouldn't want him to, his moans and groans like music to your ears. You pull off of him earning a whine. Eddie's face is flushed, bangs stuck to his forehead, a slight sweat broken out on him. He looks down at you with those big brown eyes like you just kicked a dog. "Please? Fuck, please baby? Don't stop."

You smile up at the wrecked man, the man begging for you to continue. You can feel the light pressure of his hand against your head trying to push you closer to his groin. You could make him beg. Make him wait. But he looks so good like this, you want to see him completely blissed out. You inhale deeply before lightly putting the tip back in your mouth. Eddie has no time to mutter a thank you before you fully sink down on him. Your nose coming flush with the hair you admired earlier, taking him deep in your throat without gagging. "Oh fuckfuckfuck," Eddie pants above you, lost in the feeling of you. You hollow out your cheeks and suck, bobbing up and down along his length. He was a twitching writhing mess beneath you. You lightly palm at his balls, adding enough pressure to have Eddie moan. It didn't take him long before he came with a loud groan, hips bucking without a pattern. You swallowed it to the best of your ability, some leaking out and dripping down your chin.

When he was done, you pulled off him with a pop. Eddie's chest heaved as he panted above you. Eddie looked down from the ceiling, not sure when he had thrown his head back in ecstasy. You swipe the cum off your chin before licking your fingers, eyes locked with his. "Jesus Christ," he runs a hand through his hair and lets out a chuckle. You hum and smile up at him. Eddie lightly grasps your biceps, tugging you to get up,"Not sure what brought that on, but I think its time for me to return the favor. Get up here."

[sunandflame]

I was again trapped in my very personal Pinterest hell when I saw this beauty here and now I can't stop thinking about an AU where Kyojuro is a photographer.

Because just imagine how he takes pictures of a building or something of his interest on a open street and suddenly you appear in front of his lenses and the only thing he can do is lower his camera and just look at you with his own eyes just to confirm himself that he is not dreaming or hallucinating. You are legit an angel with your white summer dress that flows in the wind. He stands there perplex for a second and baths in your beauty before the noises of the street hit him again. And before he lost sight of you, he takes his camera and makes pictures of you. How you walked along the street and before he could even realize it, he was following you.

And you were not only beautiful from the outside, but also on the inside. He saw how you knelt down to caress some stray kitten, that begged for your love. How you searched for a coin in your purse to give it to the people in need. Always with a smile on your lips.

Kyojuro feeling weirdly drawn to you and he did not realize how many pictures he had made of you until your head turns directly to him, noticing that he was taking pictures of you. But you were not angry, you gave him a smile and waved which took him so by surprise that he nearly drops his camera.

And while he catches his camera in an awkward and embarrassing way you were already on your way to him. Should he flee or wait for you? He was not sure, but he knew he was running hot as a flush increased on his cheek.

EDIT: Here is part 2

[tojiscrack]

to my all little liars!! (edit: wtf happened to my english? 😭)

we’re at 24.6k words rn 😟 if you plan on reading it next week, i recommend you read it on the weekends when there’s no school or work for you waiting in the morning 😀

calling in the troops rn ‘cause there’s still one final scene i have to write and it’s gonna be LONG (this isn’t including the bonus scene btw) but it’s extremely important for the story to continue, and without it, the rest of the story literally cannot go on 😭

we’re locking in guys. it’s 100% gonna border 30k words for sureee. sm has happened in that ONE chapter and i literally cannot wait to release it for all of you, you have no ideaaa

gonna go to bed and then wake up, study, break, write for the fic, repeat. had to randomly drop an update here cuz i’ve been edging you guys for so long i’m sorryyy, but it really is nearly here <333

edit: fck it guys i’m writing it rn (the immediate comments got me motivated)

[crow-n-tell]

I read the newest chapter of Cryptid Sightings, and @naffeclipse I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. The minute I read them say those lines I thought of that scene with the rake but IT FELT DIFFERENT. IT DUNKED MY BRAIN IN THE INSPIRATION POOL so I drew the thing

And if ya wanna see it a little better I have some lighter ones under the cut :)

Also just a lil doodle cause I changed they look

Eclipse looks a lil… dare I say whorish??? Or maybe maniacal. I have a hard time separating those two

[writermask-0807]

“heaven’s blessings.” {king baldwin iv x reader}

A/N: ahaha so yk how i said i'm gonna watch kingdom of heaven?? (it isn't available on bflix or any other website/app i checked 😭 someone pls help) i haven't yet 😅 (ALL HISTORIC AND KOH CRITICS PLS DONT COME FOR ME I DONT MEAN ANY HARM) so there's probably gonna be a lot of stuff wrong with this, and um. yk how i also said i was working on a koh fic?? yh this is not that one. for some reason i couldn't go any further than a couple of paragraphs, so here i am. with this absolutely shitty fic that looks even more horrible as I reread but. hope you enjoy?? 😭😭

warnings: hanahaki, some descriptions of hanahaki (?? it isn't that graphic or anything tho), also feel like i used 'bcos' too much, angst with no happy ending 😭 I promise the other one is happy!! 😭😭

word count: 322

thinking of king baldwin iv w hanahaki.

don’t you think that he would be the type that, as a man of strong faith, to think that this, too, is a blessing from god?

as a man of already frail health, this new illness is bound to take an even more horrible toll on his battered broken body;

taking root under his disfigured skin. fronds twining through his veins, greenery curling round his ribcage, twisting in his airways, stealing his very breath. blooming quietly in the darkness, petals like cremation ashes falling past his bruised lips like a prayer, some holy thing that can’t be attained.

because that’s what you are.

unattainable.

because knowing you - you with your tender smiles and your healing hands and your kind heart - you might probably still accept him, even with all of his ugliness, his ruined skin and broken bones, even with this blessing that’s really only a curse. but he can’t allow that. he can’t possibly be that selfish.

not to you, never.

it’s why he flinches away from your touch (no matter how much he yearns for it), soft and feather-light as it is, why he forces himself to look away from your wide eyes, your expression that’s hurt but you smile through it anyway because you wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re so gentle and kind and loving-

and he can’t.

and maybe that’s what his love for you is meant to be, in this lifetime. a love that seeps through skin and blood and bone. a love that lingers like an illness, because he can’t let you.

a blessing.

(and it’s only when the end is near that he gathers the delicate flowers into his arms, holds them close to his chest. this is the closest he can ever let you be.

and as his eyes flutter shut for the last time, he dares to hope-

perhaps, in another life.)

[aeb-art]

even in a story with reader insert, i'm still putting myself in there separately ahahaha so here's another lil thing with some of @venomous-qwille's characters

and then the moment they leave the room:

[johnwickb1tsch]

Young!John Wick x Model!Reader Imagine

Imagine you are the love of John Wick's life...

You meet in Paris when he’s a young man. You spend a mind-blowing night together, and watch the sun rise from Sacré-Coeur. He disappears, and you’re devastated because no one has ever made you feel that way, and you’re certain you’ll never see him again. But throughout the years he keeps finding you as you travel for work. He kisses you silly in the Gamla Stan of Stockholm, makes you cum on his fingers in a dark club in London, and when he leaves you utterly wrecked in Rome you know that you’re in love with this man. You don’t know exactly what he does for a living, but you’re not stupid. You’ve memorized every inch of his body, and you notice as his collection of scars multiplies over the years. You are half convinced he's a spy, but then there are the tattoos...ominous as they are captivating, they suggest membership in a darker world than the shadows of international espionage. You cannot reconcile it. How can this sweet man, this man who makes you laugh, who brings you joy and such exquisite pleasure, be a part of such a violent occupation? When you finally get up the courage to ask him he just shakes his head, and says it’s better you don’t know before kissing you in that way that utterly scrambles your brain cells.

-It all started in Paris with a broken heel... You nearly fell into traffic, but a strong arm around your waist snatched you back from death.

You hid against his chest for a long moment, even though he was a total stranger, because he felt so safe. You were in Paris for your first Fashion Week—and you were so lost. It’s the 1990s, a dark age in which we didn’t have handheld computers to pleasantly tell us where to go, and we used archaic documents to find our way known as paper maps...And you’d left yours in your hotel accidentally.  

You look up to see kind brown eyes fixed down on you. “Are you alright?” You hate to think it, but you are so relieved to hear an American accent. You have been yelled at no less than three times in French that day, and even if you totally deserved it, you're a bit gun shy now.

“Yes. Thank you. Jesus, I...” You look at the traffic barreling by at breakneck speed, a chill running down your spine. “Thank you,” you say again. You look up at him, really look at him, and realize you're in the arms of the most handsome man you've ever seen—and you work in fashion. 

“You're welcome.” 

He seems as taken by you as you are by him, and for a stretch of long moments you just stand there staring at each other like moon-eyed idiots. He looks down, suddenly shy. It's totally endearing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, releasing you slowly. You teeter on your broken heel, and you can tell he is ready to grab you again if he has to. This protectiveness makes a surprising warmth bloom in your heart.

“Do you...need help getting somewhere?” he asks. You wonder if it’s that obvious you’re lost. Usually you'd be wary of that question from a stranger. You've dealt with so many creeps throughout your life. But somehow you sense that he’s sincere. 

“I guess I'd better get back to my hotel.” 

Sebastiano was going to kill you. You broke a $600 pair of heels...well maybe Gucci should have made them better, the lazy bastards. 

“Can I get you a cab?” 

With your broken heel, you guess you’re not hoofing it back. “Sure.” He hails one down, and you’re delighted when he climbs in with you, speaking to the driver in perfect French, bless him.

“Where are we headed?” You give him the name of your hotel, and he repeats it the way it’s supposed to be said. Oh. No wonder the previous drivers gave you such contemptuous looks… You took Spanish in high school, ok? You can read French but have zero experience speaking it.

When you arrive at the hotel your savior thrusts a wad of Francs through the window before you have a chance to even open your purse, and helps you out of the cab. You are totally leaning against his arm more than you have to. You can feel the hard curve of his bicep beneath the fine fabric of his suit, and it makes you a little giddy. Only once you’re safe in the lobby does he seem willing to release you, though somehow your hand has ended up in his, and you find you don’t really want to let go. “Are you doing anything later?” you ask boldly, before he can disappear back into the bustle of Paris and you’ll never find him again.

He pays you a melancholy smile that squeezes your heart for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have to work,” he says. You make a pouty face that draws his attention to your lips. The intensity in those dark eyes is thrilling. “Maybe if I finish early…I could join you?”

You know you grin like an idiot at this suggestion. “I’ll be at the Versace afterparty. I could…have your name put on the list?”

This seems to amuse him for some reason, his mouth twisting in a smirk. “I can find you,” he says, and your heart flutters. In fact, when he presses his lips to your knuckles, your heart attempts to flutter right out of your chest.

He turns to go but you call, “Wait!” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

The smile he pays you is heart stopping. “Jardani,” he answers quietly. “But everyone calls me John.” You bite your lip, nodding, very pleased with this new bit of information, sensing that maybe he’s told you something just for you. “I hope I get to see you later.”

He nods too, touching your cheek lightly. “You will.”

It sounds like a promise.

-You should be beside yourself with excitement because you’re walking your first runway in Paris, and this could be the moment that makes or breaks your career, but the real reason for your nerves is the hope that you’ll see him again.

-The show goes great. You kill it. Sebastiano, your friend and the designer you’d modeled for, can hardly contain himself. But you find you’re just watching the clock ticking down the seconds until later.  

-John does find you later. You have a drink, and you dance, and from the adoring way he looks at you, you feel brave enough to ask if he wants to go someplace quieter. You go for a little walk, and even though it’s the wee hours of the morning you feel perfectly safe with this man. He kisses you on the Pont Alexandre, his hands in your hair, and your fingers curl in the lapels of his jacket to hold him to you. You ask if he wants to go back to your hotel, and he agrees. This man looks at you like you are something irreplaceably precious, and you don’t know how you’ll let him go.

-He is strong. In your hotel room he picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall, kissing you senseless before carrying you to the bed. His hands are calloused, but he’s so gentle with you. He touches you like you were made for him, like he was born knowing how to make you see stars. He claims you with his hands and his mouth and his big, beautiful cock deep inside you, and you know you’ll never be the same after this. You’ve been disappointed so many times that you almost don’t know how to handle an encounter going this well.

-When he stirs in the blue light of pre-dawn your arms tighten around him. You’re not even awake yet, but you don’t want him to leave. He kisses you behind the ear and you practically purr. “Want to see the second most beautiful sight in Paris?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Bring your camera.” You’d told him about your interest in photography. Maybe modeling was paying the bills, but you’d actually majored in fine art, and minored in literature. Naturally, your interests make for shit at paying bills.  

Sleepily you get dressed. It takes a little longer than usual because you can’t stop kissing each other between pulling on garments. Soft, slow kisses that curl your toes. You sense deep down that every one of them is infused with apology, and goodbye. It breaks your heart, but greedily you’ll take every second with him you can get.He takes you to Sacré-Coeur in the heart of Montmartre, the very roof of Paris. You sit on the steps and watch the sun rise over the city, fiery oranges and pinks painting the sky and rendering the buildings aglow. It truly is beautiful, but you don’t lift your lens to try to capture it. You sit with your arm linked with his, and experience this moment with him as fully as you can. You want to remember everything.

“You didn’t take a picture,” he teases once the sun has cheerfully risen above the horizon.

You pull out the camera and frame him in your lens, his sleepy smile and bed-mussed hair. You feel something shift in your heart as your finger depresses the button. Click. You’re not sure if it’s the camera in your hand, or something settling into place in your heart that has always belonged there.

“Now I have the first most beautiful sight in Paris,” you say.

He laughs at that. “I meant that was you,” he insists, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. He takes you to breakfast, and you enjoy dark coffee and delectably crafted pastries with your legs tangled together under the table. Afterwards he takes you back to your hotel, and in the gilt-appointed lobby somehow you know what’s coming.

“I have to go,” he says sadly. You actually believe his regret isn’t an act.

You nod, leaning into his large hand on your cheek.

“I’ll never forget you, y/n.”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, and you close your eyes. You are not going to cry.

“Likewise, I promise you.”

You don’t exchange any further information. You know that if it was possible to see him again, he would have offered it to you. There is something mysterious about this man. Something almost…forbidden, and a part of you knows that the little time you stole together was a precious gift.

He kisses you one last time, a passionate, soul-rending thing that leaves you utterly weak in the knees. He says nothing more, pressing his forehead to yours one final time before turning to go. You watch his tall, dark form exit the hotel into the Paris morning, and you know he’s taking a piece of your heart with him as he goes.   

-------------------------------------------------------------------

tbc because goddamn this got long...

part deux >>

[evilyn-is-gay]

Yo hey fanart of the fairy jester boys (but I drew myself as gardener y/n in some because… yeah)

@ayyy-imma-ninja your AU lives rent free in my skull, how did you do this

The hands are actually my hand, just traced lol

I didn’t stay up until 5 am just reading everything what do you mean.

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Andrew Minyard puts on his black combat boots and black armbands. He wears his black hoodie because Andrew is not like other boys. His newest teammate Neil Josten has an aura of danger that Andrew knows he is better off not getting close. But Andrew cannot help it. He is like a moth drawn to a flame. Neil’s untamed auburn hair that is never styled yet it is messy in an effortless way and his big blue orbs that must have a lot of hidden secrets. Andrew knows he should not play with fire but with that toned body Andrew minyard can not stay away.

Whatever, not like Neil josten would notice him anyways. He is the outcast in his teams and no one likes him. Neil josten would not care about him.

Imagine Andrew’s surprise when Neil josten joins him on the roof and shares his secrets. Andrew is right, Neil has a very dark past that is even darker than Andrew’s. Neil is involved in the mafia! But because Andrew is not like other boys he does not care and promise to protect Neil even though Andrew probably cannot do anything if anything happens. Neil probably has to be the one to save Andrew.

Neil also turns out to be loaded and he buys Andrew a car when his was destroyed and Andrew cannot say no to a Maserati.

Everyone else on the team is so shock when super attractive good looking Neil josten will choose to be with someone like Andrew minyard but Neil does not care and growls at anyone that says anything bad about Andrew.

[sqtorux]

WARNING: YAP

hey back with small rant!! because came up in my

head when

scrolling on tiktok!! (kinda js feeling hot but im good for now!)

imagine being rlly good friends with yuji like you can hit him has a joke without him yelling or giving you looks, so one day you partner up with him for science project u have make a space diagram "easy" you guys both say it in sync like a twins you decided go to yuji house , because you find his house comfy.. nah you just wanted see his two brothers, sukuna and choso. its wrong liking two people at same time BUT even worse liking your own best friend brother, not like you date them but why do you always turn there way?, why do you always bring them up when no one mentions them?, yuji dosen't know and you think its best he doesn't besides? yuji wouldn't want see you and his brothers together defiantly not

AHAHA, i fell asleep for 3 hrs and woke up being sick is worse thing ever but worth it cause i can be lazy without anyone telling me off

-🐱 anon

yk what would make this even more twisty?? oldest sibling sukuna would probably only look at you as his brother's pesky potential girlfriend bestfriend and middle sibling choso would have a tiny crush on you but considering how close you are to yuji, he'd probably think you two are more compatible.

oldest sibling sukuna would have a girlfriend, a lovely one you can't help but feel a little jealous of. she's so sweet and they're so in love you feel a little bitter seeing them riding off in his motorcycle when you come to visit yuji after school.

middle sibling choso would welcome you into the house and offer you all your favourite snacks leaving you confused and a bit flustered since one of your all time favourite snack is found only in a convenience store far away from their home. he'd keep you company while yuji takes his time to come downstairs and if his hand accidentally brushes against yours while he hands you a mug of your favourite juice, you force yourself to look away and try to hide the red tinting your cheeks all the way to your ears.

youngest sibling and your best friend yuji would observe this scene unfolding on the stairwell. he never thought of his older brother being so giddy, especially for his best friend but he knows how much of a good person you are and if he were to have another potential sister in law, he thinks you'd fit that spot perfectly.

baby did u eat today? rested well? slept well?? i swear being sick makes me so miserable i don't wish that on anybody else. im always hoping for your fast recovery <3 also i LOVEEEE your yaps it gives me a chance to write blurbs fresh out of the anon ask it's so fun ^^