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joelsdagger · 3 months

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all the things i would do

read on ao3 | resources on how to help Palestine here <3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: porn no plot. joel finds an article of clothing of yours and there’s nothing holding him back once he gets his hands on them.

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

content warnings: [Post Outbreak], established relationship, implied age gap (25+ years), joel is canon age, slightly domestic joel (blink and it’s gone), joel has a panty kink, panty sniffing, masturbation (m), soft dom!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pet names (use of baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, love), smidgen of fluff (these two are so in love it’s sickening), an inkling of a size kink (but in my head joel’s at least 6’5, he’s a BIG big man in my brain), joel’s filthy mouth, praise kink, hint of sub!joel, nipple play, one use of the word ‘Daddy’ (moots don’t look at me I couldn’t help it), slight tummy kink/tummy worship, cum eating. No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader other than having hair long enough that it’s past her shoulders.

word count: 3.1k

A/N: so, a few things before we get started. i’m new to writing fics and this is my first time publicly putting out a fic that wasn’t just for shits and giggles for my friends and i and i’m so fucking nervous like the amount of times i’ve panicked over this is a little embarrassing to admit but we ball. that being said, i love and welcome constructive criticism as long as you’re nice about it. there was an alternative version of this, it’s more like a deviation (literally sitting in my drafts as we speak) but reader is more involved in the situation, if y’all still wanna read that, just let me know and i’ll work on getting it out for you guys. finally, shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo for encouraging me to actually write this all those months ago and for all your brilliant ideas and encouragement and practically holding my hand through it since day one, @aurasjournal for being such a gem and helping me with the cover for this fic and hyping me up, and thank you to @papurgaatika and @nevergoingbacknowshine for being so kind and encouraging and listening to my 3am rants when i was anxious. another big thank you to kat, aura, and naya for beta reading and helping me during the editing process. all four of you have been absolute sweethearts despite me being a pussy about posting this. okay i’m done rambling, enjoy some of the filth that constantly plagues my brain <3

Joel’s eyes blink open slowly, the sun peeks into the bedroom through the curtains across the room. For a moment he searches for you beside him, but remembers you’ve already left for the day out on patrol duty. Joel harrumphs, still bothered over letting you and Ellie bully him out of his patrol duties. “You’ve been hurting yourself too much baby,” You had told him a few weeks ago over breakfast. “Yeah, you’re an old man now. You fall over one more time and you’re done.” Ellie snickers from her seat in the kitchen. Joel just rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the dishes, but you had caught the small grin on his face when he turned his head back to the sink. Against the two of you, Joel never stood a chance.

Joel drags himself out of bed towards his dresser to grab a new set of clothes. He throws on a blue shirt that fits a little snug on his well built form, the thin material stretches over his broad shoulders, across his strong back, and pulls taut over his biceps and he grunts as he pulls a pair of dark wash jeans over his strong, thick thighs, securing them in place with a distressed leather belt that he’s had for years. Once he’s dressed, he takes in the mess in the room. He notices both of your clothes from the night before are still scattered around the room. He bends down to pick them up, he grunts as his knees pop when he stands back up. He starts gathering them up to toss them into the hamper already overflowing with clothes. The last article of clothing out of place is yours. Your black lace panties on the armchair in the corner. He grabs them and his eyes widen when he feels it, the center still wet from him making you come earlier. His cock instantly hardened in his jeans.

Joel turns on his heel and in just a few long strides he’s in your shared bathroom. He deliberately avoids the mirror, knowing that if he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror he’ll disgust himself even more. Briskly, he sets the laundry hamper on the tile near the bathtub. Joel brings the thin black lace up to his face, closes his eyes and he sniffs them, breathing you in completely. He groans at the scent of you. His cock painfully hard now. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. He’s addicted to you and he knows he can’t wait til you get home. He knows he can’t wait to have his way with you, dig into you any way that you will let him. So, without another second of hesitation, Joel unbuckles his belt, a clink from the metal hitting the edge of the counter, unzips his jeans and takes his thick, heavy cock out, and then brings your soaked panties to his angry, leaking tip. His precum meets the wetness of your panties and he hisses at the feeling. With the wetness of the gusset of your panties acting as a lubricant, Joel begins to slowly stroke himself, wanting to take his time, savoring every feeling, relishing in it. Joel soon becomes too desperate for release, he quickly loses control, his hips moving faster to fuck his hand, his hand tightening around his cock, the grip almost painful now. His eyes are screwed shut, as he throws his head back, the night before instantly replaying in his head.

He had just gotten out of the shower to find you sprawled out on your stomach on your side of the bed, ankles crossed in the air. He rakes his eyes over your form until his eyes land on your ass. You were wearing the panties he was currently fucking his hand with. You didn’t notice him stepping out of the bathroom, too busy looking at the photo album you had just put together. It’s relatively new, most of the pages empty, yet you were looking at the photos you had taken earlier that week at the Tipsy Bison. The one that had your attention was a photo of you and Joel that Ellie had taken. Neither of you looked at the camera, the photo had captured you mid-laugh, head tilting back, eyes shut, it was a full belly laugh at something Joel had said. Joel’s arm was around your shoulder tucking you into his side, smiling down at you, a rare type of smile, one reserved only for you.

Leaning on the entryway, his arms crossed over his broad, tanned chest, he smiles at the view. You’re in nothing but your panties in his bed, in his home. His feet move without thinking, walking over to you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, tracing his fingers over your soft supple skin down your back and over the lace of your panties, and lightly pinches your ass. “So pretty sweet baby,” he says shyly, almost like he’s speaking to himself. You turn your head to look up at him, smiling. Wordlessly, he took the photo album from your hands, placing it on your nightstand. He gets in the bed, carefully sitting on his knees while attempting to avoid loosening the off-white towel around his waist. You roll onto your back to face him, his silver curls still damp from the shower as water still drips onto his strong shoulders. He combs his hair back after a shower and the ends tend to curl up around his ears. It’s been months since you last cut his hair but you like his hair longer, you had whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom, your naked, sweaty limbs tangled up together between his sheets. From that night on he hasn’t asked you to cut it for him. He likes it because you like it.

While you’re busy ogling him, Joel’s hands immediately reach to trace the floral lace pattern before toying with the little satin black bow at the center front. His rough, calloused hands slide up your bare thighs, wrapping his large hands around your thighs and he pries open your legs, his hazel eyes locked in on your center like a bullseye and you notice the cocky smirk he’s got plastered on his face, pleased with himself that he’s already got you wet for him.

He brings two thick fingers to slide over your covered cunt. He feels the wetness on the material and he pulls back to look up at you and finds your attention on his fingers. “What a mess you made, pretty girl,” he murmurs. You’re watching the movement of his fingers, entranced by his fingers teasing your pussy as he glides them up and down your slit. He clicks his tongue at you, “so wet for me huh baby? Always so wet for me. So perfect,” he smirks to himself as he gently pulls your panties to the side, revealing your aching, needy cunt. He lowers his head placing gentle kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his lips tracing and peppering your skin all the way towards your center, his mouth hovering over the place you need him most and you shiver beneath him.

“Joel,” you whisper, he chuckles seeing you all worked up for him. “Baby please,” you whimper.

“What is it baby?” he tuts, “use your words, sweet girl,” he tilts his head slightly with a smug grin on his face. His fingers move up and down your folds.

“N-need them inside me, p-please,” you whimper as you claw at his forearms, clutching them for stability.

“Alright baby, lemme taste her first,” He lays flat on his stomach, moves his arms under your legs, and hoists them up over his broad shoulders. He lowers his mouth onto your cunt and the tip of his tongue licks through your folds. He hums at the sweet taste of you on his tongue. He flattens his tongue and licks a long thick stripe and he groans lowly, the vibrations making you squirm under him.

“Fuck, more baby,” you beg. You gasp at the hook of his nose bumping your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, eyes closing swiftly, brows furrowed as you let out a loud moan.

“There she is,” he smirks. He flicks his tongue over your clit. His eyes slip closed as he relishes in the noises leaving your mouth, like music to his ears. Your hips buck up into his face, selfishly grinding your cunt for more. Joel’s eyes flicker back up your face, “eyes on me sweetheart,” he murmurs. Your eyes snap open to watch him as he brings his fingers back up to your cunt, two thick fingers dip into you and you can hear the wet squelch as he eases his fingers in, simultaneously, he circles his tongue around your clit. He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your cunt. You feel the pressure building up more intensely inside of your belly and then you’re chanting his name as he curls his fingers inside you, petting at the spongy spot he knows will break you. He closes his mouth around your clit and he sucks hard.

“Fuck, Joel, yes yes,” Your hips bucking up into his face, your legs start to shake as you come on his face and your cunt tightening around his fingers, a loud strangled moan filling the air.

“That’s my girl,” he says as he watches you gasp above him, pressing a quick kiss to your clit. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see him removing his fingers, all wet and shiny, and putting them in his slick covered mouth, sucking them clean.

Softly, he grabs your ankles, pulling you down towards the edge of the bed eliciting a giggle. His favorite sound…well one of his favorites. His favorite being the next sound that comes out of your mouth when he quickly pulls your panties down. He sees the wet shine of your cum in the center and his face lights up with glee. “You made such a mess ‘a your panties, baby,” he tuts before tossing them across the room. He unties the towel from his waist and lets it fall and it pools around his legs, revealing his thick, heavy cock, the tip angry and beads of precum seeping out of the slit. You place your hands around your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, presenting your already spent pussy to him once again and he groans roughly.

He leans forward, his fingers running through your folds once more, and you quiver at his touch. He gathers your cum on his fingers and strokes himself twice before he dips the wide tip of his cock inside of you. A whine leaves your lips. That. That was his favorite sound. He doesn’t push in further… he doesn’t move an inch. He’s teasing you…wants you to ask nicely for it. Like clockwork his voice laced with honey he says “Ask for it baby, ask for my cock.”

Desperate, you whine again “please joel… I need your cock.” Your needy fingers trail lightly over his soft belly, sitting up slightly, you place soft kisses from his belly button down to the dark patch of hair above his cock, his body trembles at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his belly and a breathy moan escapes his lips. He laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hands near your head, his large form encompassing your smaller frame, he lowers himself down over you, his lips brushing against yours. “Baby, please. Please fuck my pussy” you mewl. He pushes his cock deeper, deeper, and deeper til the head of his cock kisses your cervix, provoking a loud groan from him against your ear as he nestles himself into you, where he belongs.

“See baby all you had to do was ask politely” Joel cooes. He drags his hips back, leaving only his tip inside you once again and you clench around him. “Fuck, goddamn you’re fucking tight,” he grits. Slowly he starts thrusting his tip in and out.

You whine again, “Baby don’t be mean. I want all of it.”

“Shh..I know baby, I know,” he soothes. Then in one long single thrust, he wedges his cock back inside of you to the hilt, bottoming out into your cunt, hitting the spot that only he knows with a loud ragged groan into the crook of your neck. His cock is stretching you out, feeling every twitch, he’s everywhere and it’s overwhelming. He hitches your legs up towards your chest, opening you up more, your chest pressed tightly against his, he drags the weight of his cock languidly between your slick, moaning at the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room.

When you look up at him it’s like you can see a lightbulb go off in his head and before you know it, Joel’s large hands grab the swell of your ass, he picks you up, and repositions you both so he’s on his back and has you sitting on his thick cock. He wants you to ride him. In this position you can feel him in the deepest parts of your belly and it hurts just a little bit but you find pleasure in it, you always have.

Leaning forward, you place your hands on the headboard and arching your back a bit more, Joel's head falls back down onto the pillows. At the sudden change of the angle, his eyes shut for just a second before he’s snapping them right back open. He doesn’t want to miss a single thing. He wants to see it all. He watches how your breasts bounce as you move and quickly, he leans up to catch a nipple in his mouth. He’s licking and sucking all over your pebbled nipple and then his teeth graze along the hardened peak before swiftly pulling it between his teeth. He moves onto the other and he flicks his tongue over your nipple, he sucks and nips at it lightly before he lets your tit fall from his mouth, admiring the slight bounce of your breast before his eyes lock in on your face, watching your face contort and your mouth open while you seek your high. It's his favorite thing, watching you like this.

“Jesus Christ, look at you, you’re takin’ me so well,” he groans.

The grip of his hands on your hips tightens but doesn’t guide you, just seeks some ounce of control. You lean forward more so your clit brushes ever so slightly against the dark patch of curls at his base. The friction makes you approach your orgasm quickly. Joel’s eyes flicker down to where you two are connected, taking pleasure in seeing his cock splitting you open, watching as it disappears deep inside of you.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck….use me. Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, atta girl,” You roll your hips faster, grinding harder on his cock, greedy and desperate to come again. “C’mon baby, come all over my cock.”

His words and your clit repeatedly pressing against him make your hips stutter and you clench around him as your orgasm finally washes over you, harder than before. Your body goes limp on his chest. Joel doesn’t let up, he grabs your thighs and lifts his hips, relentlessly fucking his cock up into you. His cock slams into you so hard the wet slapping sound of your bodies fills the room.

You turn your head and press your lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe, you spur him on “c’mon Joel, come for me baby,” you softly rasp. “C’mon baby, for me, do it for me love,” you whisper and he whimpers, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. You bite down on his shoulder to muffle the whines that leave your mouth as he fucks into you harder, your walls tighten around him, his cock twitches inside you before he hastily pulls out with a long pained groan and with his cock between your bodies, his cum spurts out, thick and warm, coating his stomach. A moment passes and you lower your lips down his chest, feeling the rough edges of his skin underneath your lips as you pepper open mouthed kisses along his strong torso, the soft skin of his belly, over the jagged scar on his lower abdomen, all the way down his happy trail, you feel him shiver beneath you.

You sit up on his thighs, locking your eyes with his, you bring your fingers down to his cum on his stomach. You look back up at him, your gaze meeting his as you swirl your fingers twice in his spend and bring your shiny, sticky coated fingers up to your mouth, closing your lips around your fingers, sucking them clean. His mouth agape, he’s staring back at you while you use your fingers to lick up his cum, “dirty girl, one’a these days you’re gonna gimme a heart attack woman,” he groans.

The memory of it all…you riding him, your naked breasts bouncing, his cock impaling you, watching it disappear inside you over and over, your cunt clamping down around his cock and the echo of your moans as you came last night playing in his head sends him hurtling over the edge.

His cock twitches in his hand, his other hand slamming down on the counter, he groans your name raggedly and his thighs quiver as he comes hard into his fist, harder than he ever has when jerking himself off. He pumps his release into your panties, hot, thick ropes of his cum painting your panties. His cum spurting out seemingly endless for a man his age.

If you were here in front of him he would pull the fabric up over your thighs, making you wear your cum filled panties before going about the rest of your day.

But you’re not here so instead he brings the cum soaked panties up to his face, eyeing his spend and your wetness for a moment. He stops himself and contemplates the idea in his head as he eyes the glistening sheen over the center. Just as quickly as the thought infiltrated his head, he decides against it and bunches up the thin material and tosses them in the old laundry basket sat in the corner of your shared bathroom. Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, washes his hands, limping slightly as he walks out of your bedroom and closes the door behind him leaving your laundry for another day.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #noelle writes #noelle's workshop

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actually-safer-to-kiss · 9 months

Text

The Drafts

Summary: Spencer confronts Reader about a breakup text he found in her Notes app

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort?

Content warnings: Manipulation, lying, yelling, anger, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1.5k

You check yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It’s date night, and it’s been long overdue since Spencer’s been called away to four states in the past two weeks. Despite the stress that already comes with that (and the current state of your relationship), the dress he got you makes up for it, and helps you think about how lucky you are in more ways than one. It fits you just right without trapping you in the fabric. Even the fluorescent lights in his bathroom can’t make you look bad. “Spencer!” You call out, zhuzhing your hair again before leaving. No response, but you flick the switch off before saying, “I’m ready whenever you are!”

Still nothing. Not surprising. It’s rare when Spencer isn’t lost in his own mind. You’ve learned not to ask every time this happens because it often leads to theoretical explanations that go over your head within seconds. On rare occasions, he’s discovered a plot hole in one of the older Dr. Who episodes (which also go over your head).

This is a different time though. Because when you turn the corner to the bedroom, Spencer isn't hunched over his desk or scribbling incoherence on his whiteboard (yes, he has a whiteboard in his bedroom and has refused to move it for reasons unexplained). Instead, he’s pacing the small area between the wall and the foot of his bed. He’s hunched over the phone. Your phone.

You try to bite back the instant frustration as his bare feet smack the floor. “Spencer,” you monitor your tone. “Are you ready?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” That is all he asks when he finally stops to look up at you. He’s not exactly emotional, but he’s definitely holding back.

Red hotly spreads across your cheeks. “What?”

He points and his eyebrows rise like he’s found evidence at a crime scene. “Flushed face.”

“Spencer, we’ve talked about —”

“Likely a sign of embarrassment from being exposed.” He turns the phone screen to face you; paragraphs of text and broken sentences from previous editing attempts. Arguably, not your finest work.

Your mouth is agape, and it is hard to fight the instinct to close it upon suspicion of further guilt. You bet he’ll assume surprise. “I thought we talked about you not looking through my phone.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures back at it as if it’s not obvious. Sadness is already breaking some barriers, starting with his voice, but he’s trying to maintain a smug demeanor. Even in potential agony, Spencer can still get a high from being right.

You grunted. It was involuntary but honest. It came out of your throat like steam, as the anger in your core is already overflowing into the rest of your body. It bursts again when you snatch the phone out of his hands. He doesn’t flinch, damn him. You scroll up and down on the app incoherently, reminding yourself of the words he’s read and memorized. You think of how they’ll haunt you, how he’ll haunt you with them. “I can’t believe you went through my phone again.”

“I can’t believe you’re not even trying to fix this," he says. “I-I understand that things aren’t the most ideal right now, but we could’ve made time to talk about it.”

“What? Like not going through my phone? Look at how that worked out.”

“I know you’ve been acting differently. No kisses goodbye every day, spacing out at dinners with my coworkers, and a slew of other things.”

“Oh, are they written down on yours? I'd love to read them.”

Spencer shakes his head, letting his eidetic memory speak for itself there. “I’m a profiler, Y/N. And I can’t deny facts.”

The grunt before was delicate compared to the noise you make now. What the noise was is unknown, but terrifying. It wipes Spencer's smirk clean off. “Yes! You’re a profiler! I’m reminded of that every single goddamn day because every move I make near you is analyzed under a microscope!” You resist throwing your phone on the bed; partly out of fear of where it will bounce to, and partly Spencer snatching it up again. Instead, you tap the screen, exiting the Notes app and navigating to your texts. You press the latest contact, Garcia. Then you stay there, knowing Spencer will see the screen brightness show slightly on your face. “You didn’t read my texts, did you?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Your eyes dart towards him, and you can tell he wonders what cruel piece of evidence he missed.

“Yeah. Cause if you did, you would’ve known I was writing a breakup text for someone else. But you didn’t. So once again, you’ve snooped and gone out of your way to hurt your own feelings for no reason.”

The look on Spencer’s face. No matter how angry you get, how wrong he is, the sullen puppy dog look this man can pull off with his eyes alone is a weapon. It always makes him look pitiful.

And it makes lying to him even more painful.

“Spencer.” You say with a sigh.

“Who’s it for?”

You throw your head back. “Why is that your business?”

Spencer’s interrogation tactics often get in the way of the fact that he’s not facing a criminal, but his girlfriend. His girlfriend whose privacy he violated with no warrant presented to you. But when Spencer is on a case, he fails to differentiate between the two. You’ve practically heard him making mental notes when your behavior is even slightly off. Even when they have nothing to do with him. But he’s always quick to assume they are as he’s either leaving for work or being called away before discussions can occur. Spencer is a profiler, yes, but all profilers can let their emotions get the better of them.

You show Spencer your wrists. Gold bracelets clang together instead of silver cuffs. “What’s the goal here, Dr. Reid?”

He paces the floor again, briefly, before settling on the bed corner. He’s still looking at the floor, thinking, but you can tell his thought process has slowed down thanks to your (alleged) evidence. "Something must be wrong." He whispers. It’s pathetic. “You used to tell me everything.”

“And you used to not look through my things.” You’d hate to admit that you’re shaking too, but not from sadness. You stay standing, and put your phone on the dresser next to you. Face down. You cross your arms. “Things can change. Actions have consequences.”

He exhales briefly through his nose. He looks up, his eyes already shifting to a pinkish hue. “So it’s your turn to lecture me because —”

“Because my boyfriend is profiling off the clock again? Yes. Because he’s interrogating me and questioning my intentions when he’s supposed to be getting ready for date night? A date night he insisted upon because he’s been working overtime and profiling on a jet for the entire month? Yes.”

The anger. The intensity of it all pierced your blood long before. It coiled around your vocal cords while making your point. You had plenty more to say. A slideshow would’ve been worthy of listing Spencer’s actions over the last three months alone. Except the strain is hard, and clearing your throat doesn’t help. So you stand there, looking down at the miserable man you loved once. You pretend the silence is intentional, you let it speak for itself.

And by some miracle (or perhaps the predicted luck of your dress), it worked. After wiping the budding tears from his eyes, Spencer studies you from curled hair to strappy heels. You know a stray movement will ignite a thousand rebuttals. You preferred dinner, so you maintain your statue-like stillness by raising only your eyebrows.

Spencer swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I should’ve…” He nods while clamping his lips closed. “Yeah, I should have talked to you first. I’m so sorry.”

You exhale. It could be the relief of moving again. Or the fact that you can’t help but comfort the sad man who is still technically your boyfriend. You take his hand and pull him off the bed and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder while holding your waist. His palms are flat on your back as his chest heaves and caves. Your arms are around his neck, and you comfort him with soft hushes. Meanwhile, adrenaline depletion is already beckoning your eyes to close. But you stare at the wall.

You’re so tired. You’ve been tired. Decaying is perhaps the best word for all of this. Nevertheless, you hold Spencer tightly to let him know you’re there. It's all the strength you have. The strength to end things though is of a different caliber than you thought you could fathom. You can collect enough to rip off the world's most difficult bandaid, eventually. But Spencer Reid with a theoretical broken heart is already painful enough to witness. He needs you right now. And right now, you'll be there for him.

Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and her discord for helping me with fleshing out this story 🩵

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like-a-diamondinthesky · 7 months

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idiots in love | h.j.s

-> the first i love you m.list

pairing... bf!jisung x gn!reader tags... fluff, established relationship, literal idiots but it’s ok cos ur in love

it’s been a grand four months into the relationship, and neither you nor jisung have said those three words that mean oh so much to the both of you. why? because you’re idiots.

wc... 887 words a/n... here's the first installment for the first i love you series! i've had this sitting in my drafts for like a month and it's not a LOT but i still really enjoyed writing it hehe. i hope you enjoy and stay tuned for more!

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Jisung has always known he loved you. From the moment he asked you out, he knew that you were the one for him. He couldn't ever want anyone else. But he couldn't tell you that right off the bat—he was afraid he would scare you off. Now he wouldn't want that, would he? And so, he settled for showing you his love with cozy cuddle sessions, eager kisses, and endless conversations about anything and everything you wanted to talk about.

As for you, just after the first week of dating, you already knew you loved Jisung. However, you figured it was way too early to say it. You thought such an early confession would make Jisung freak out, and you’d never want to weird him out. So you waited and waited and waited.

Of course, there were many close calls, but the one that constantly replayed in your mind was the time Jisung dropped you off at your house after your one-month anniversary date. You had gone to a carnival, and he had won you not one, not two, but three stuffed toys! He helped you carry your new babies to your bedroom, and you pulled him on top of you to cuddle on your bed, which was overflowing with pillows and plushies. The room was filled with lovesick giggles and as he looked into your eyes, you could feel it coming. You knew he was about to say it. “Y/n,” he opened his mouth. “I love… your bed. I love your bed. It’s so comfy.” Oh, never mind!

Time flew by, and every single day, the nagging voices in the back of both your minds grew louder. Just tell each other, just profess your love, damn it! But, no matter how much you two were dying to say it, there was fear deep inside your hearts that your feelings weren’t reciprocated by the other.

Now here you are, a grand four months into the relationship, and neither of you has said those three words, those eight letters, that mean oh so much to the both of you. Why? Because you're idiots.

You were lying on top of Jisung on your couch, head resting on his chest as you used your phone. He was watching a video on his laptop, which rested on your back. Every now and then he would bring his fingers up to your head and play with your hair. You softly drummed against your fingers against the side of his torso, humming along with the beat of the background music emitting from the speakers of his laptop.

Every brush of your fingertips against his body sent butterflies to his stomach. ‘Do they not know what they’re doing to me?’ Jisung thought as his pulse quickened. He was sure you could hear his heartbeat banging against his chest. He wasn’t even paying attention to the video on his screen anymore, not when you were this close to him. He needed to tell you he loved you. He needed to tell you right now.

Immediately, your boyfriend slammed his laptop close and tossed it to the foot of the couch. You lifted your head and looked at him in confusion. "Ji? Is something wrong, baby?"

“Yes, actually. Something is very, very wrong and I need to make it right.” Jisung announced dramatically, making you chuckle at his antics. You released yourself from his embrace and sat up on his lap. “Okay, let’s talk then. What’s wrong?”

Jisung stared deep into your eyes, contemplated whether or not he should say anything, then looked away shyly. You grabbed his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

"Look Y/n, we've been together for over four months and I swear I've never been happier. You're the reason I wake up with a stupidly wide smile glued on my face every day and I literally cannot live without you, babe. There’s a feeling that’s just been eating me up from the inside and I’m tired of hiding it from you. I guess what I'm trying to say is," Jisung took a deep breath, "I love you, Y/n. So much, you don’t even know. Each day I held myself back from telling you was a day I regret not being honest with you. I understand if you’re not ready to say it back but-"

And suddenly, your lips crashed harshly onto his. Jisung's eyes widened for a moment, but he quickly wrapped his arms around you and melted into the kiss. You raked your fingers into his hair, untangling the soft strands.

"I love you so much, Han Jisung. Never think for a second that I wouldn't say it back. I love you and I always will." You had only barely pulled away from him, so he could feel your smile against his lips. “God, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to say that. Oh, I love you, Ji. I love you, I love you, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby.” Giggling, Jisung hugged you tightly, resting his head on your shoulder. "Trust me, I know how you feel. That was long overdue. Wow, we’re huge idiots, aren’t we?"

"I think that,” you whispered as you peppered kisses onto the side of his head, “that’s an understatement."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

taglist... @jinnixxn

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

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pixydustworld · 1 year

Text

The marriage law was announced at 2pm on a Tuesday.

By 2:15 Hermione had already drafted a motion to dismiss the law entirely. It was a good motion, too. If she’d sent a copy to Ron, he would’ve replied with: wow! lots of words! good stuff!

At 2:17 her motion was denied.

“It’s best to just accept defeat.” Malfoy said from his side of the office, bookshelves neat, papers all stacked in order. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving up.” Hermione snapped. Her side of the office was cluttered, less pristine. Her bookshelf had a nasty habit of overflowing all over the floor, stacks of books balancing precariously on every surface. “A fire hazard.” Malfoy had sneered at her once, “Breaking several codes.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “I hadn’t noticed.” He was smiling softly, like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Waiting, almost patiently for her to smile. Stupid man with his stupid grin, Hermione wanted to throw a book at his head.

“This is archaic.” Hermione hissed. “The Ministry has gone too far. They can't force us to marry anyone.”

Even as she spoke, a squirming feeling of doubt was beginning to take root in her chest — being friends with Harry came with many things. Companionship and love, but it also came with a healthy distrust of the government (like a free gift basket! but terrible one).

Malfoy ignored her complaints. "Marriage Acts aren't as mid-evil as you're making them out to be." He said, with that annoying voice he used when he knew he was right about something, "They serve a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione could practically feel the beginnings of an aneurysm. A fitting death, slumped over her desk, surrounded by unfinished documents and discovered by Draco Malfoy, "Are you actually defending this?"

She would have to find a new partner. A new office, one where he wasn't constantly surrounding her, swimming on the edge of her peripheral vision. Maybe Dean Thomas would let her set up a current workplace in his records closet, he was always bragging about how it was big enough for him to take naps in during work —

"No." Malfoy said, somehow even more amused now, "I don't support it."

"Oh." Hermione said, very eloquently, "That's good."

"But," Malfoy continued, still distinctly unruffled while Hermione was very ruffled, "Most people will be unfazed. It's a Pure-Blood tradition. My parents have always planned to arrange a marriage contract.” Malfoy shrugged, “It’s not absolutely unheard of.”

“Well," Hermione said, out of breath from all the pacing she was doing, "Your parents are terrible.”

“Of course.” Malfoy said, like it was obvious. “They would never allow me the opportunity to sully the Malfoy name. Producing the correct heir is the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

Hermione frowned. “Hearing about your family isn’t good for our working relationship. It makes me feel bad for you.”

“We can’t have that.” Malfoy said.

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “we can’t have that.”

“So, tell me Granger. What is your plan?” His grin became less self indulgent, more fake. “You’ll have to marry someone. It'll undoubtably be the event of the season — have a fiancé you’ve been hiding from me?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I could hide anything from you?”

Malfoy knew when she changed the scent of her shampoo, when she switched up her coffee order — he even knew if she was sleeping less than usual. It was impossibly annoying to be around someone so observant, someone so intent on cataloguing her every move.

"If I had a secret fiancé, which I don't, I'm confident that you're competent enough to have sniffed him out by now."

Malfoy responding grin was slow and syrupy. "You think I'm competent?"

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Is he shorter than me? Is that it? Didn’t want to introduce us because you knew he’d feel bad?”

“You’re taller than everyone.” Hermione said, annoyed, again, “You would obviously be taller than my imaginary fiancé. You’re like an angelic giraffe.”

“You think I’m angelic?”

“No.”

"Two compliments on top of each other, are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Shut up."

At 2:20, Hermione began to clean her side of the office, desperate for an excuse not to talk to Malfoy.

At 2:22, Harry slammed through her door, completely demolishing the (very little) progress Hermione had made in cleaning up her side of the office.

“I’ll marry you.” Harry said, slightly out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way to her office, “Do you think we can kiss without making a face? We’ll have to practice.”

“I’m not marrying you.” Hermione said from the floor behind her desk, “You are engaged to Theo.” She was laying on her back with a book covering her face, feeling rightfully sorry for herself.

“Theo won’t mind.” Harry said in the voice he reserved for whenever he wanted people to listen to him (i am harry potter! and i did not spill mustard on the couch! you have to believe me, i saved the world!) “It will be quick. I can get us rings before the day is over.”

"No." Hermione said, still on the floor, "I've gone along with enough of your stupid ideas. This is too much."

Because, despite it all, Harry would do this. Without hesitation, blind loyalty and unwavering determination — Harry would marry her and be pleased with his choices. He was lovely, but at times, Harry could be a misguided idiot.

"This is where you draw the line?" Malfoy hummed, "Interesting to catch a glimpse into the inner workings of your mind."

Finally scrambling to her feet (after a few more seconds of wallowing) Hermione was horrified to find a familiar look on Harry's face — one that promised something stupid.

"I'll figure it out. " Harry said, with a shrug that reminded Hermione of their childhood (occidentally, the stress headache she was feeling also reminded her of their childhood). He pointed a stoic finger at her. "Don't make a face when I kiss you."

Then, he left.

“Theo wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy said in a helpful voice, “He’d probably marry you as well. Would it be Granger-Potter-Nott? Or Granger-Nott-Potter? Better figure that out soon. Potter seems eager to find those rings.”

Hermione threw a book at his head.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his stupid Quidditch hands.

“I have an idea,” Malfoy said after a moment.

Hermione ignored him. “There has to be a way out of this.” She was pacing again, sensible shoes kicked off to the corner (where she’d undoubtedly forget them) “I could write another motion? A longer one this time. With more quotes.”

“Marry me instead.”

Hermione stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your best option.”

“I have many options —

“Weasley already tricked someone into marrying him and Potter is engaged to my only friend.” He frowned, in a mocking sort of way. “Did I leave anyone out?”

“No.” Hermione said flatly. “You didn’t.”

“Alright then. Marry me.”

“Hah.” She said, “Hah. I take back everything I’ve ever said about you. Malfoy, you are funny.”

“I’m being serious.” He said, looking annoyed. Fantastic, they were both annoyed. Like they always were.

“We can get married before the law passes and then you can do what you do best.” Malfoy continued, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Which is?” Without her shoes, the height difference was unbearably noticeable. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. At some point he'd stopped being a willowy wraith of a person and began the unfortunate process of filling out.

He didn’t look away. “Destroy everyone’s expectations and free the downtrodden.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

Malfoy shrugged, too practiced to be nonchalant. “I’d be married to a war hero. It would do wonders for my reputation.”

“And you would be married to me.” Hermione said, beginning to feel like this was getting too real, “We both know that would never happen.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She agreed.

He wasn’t smiling that lazy smile from before, this one was different. Sharper. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Besides,” Hermione continued on loudly, “you’re no gentleman. No need to pretend. I don’t need saving, I’ll figure this out myself.”

“You don’t need to.” Malfoy said, “I will help. I want to fuck over the Ministry for many reasons, but mainly because they declined your motion.”

He was on her side of the office now, leaning casually against her desk, inches away from where she stood. He was too pretty up close, like staring at the sun.

“It was very good.” Hermione breathed.

Malfoy nodded, almost too good at pretending to be sincere.

“I’m sure it was good. You touched it. Everything you touch is golden.”

“You truly want to help me?”

“I’ve only offered several times.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “All to fuck over the Ministry? No other reason?”

“Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Hermione's eye twitched.

"Don't tease me." She managed to hiss. "Not about this."

She saw when he realized, a flicker of excitement in his eyes — when he noticed her apparent misery at how completely and helplessly she was drawn to him.

"I'd never dream of it." Malfoy said warmly, "You could kill me with ease, only an idiot would be careless around you."

She thought of all the long nights they spent together, crammed in their tiny little office. How she looked forward to her day, if only to see his stupidly pointy face. How she tried to date, but couldn’t. Because it wasn’t right — her dates were too kind, too short.

Not him.

How, through everything, he was the first person she thought of in the morning, the person she thought of in the darkness of the night, when no one could see her wandering hands — the person she looked at for a challenge, for relief and support.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and now, here he was, seeming to share in her suffering.

“We’d have to consummate the marriage.” She said, giving him one last out. “You’d have to see me naked.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’m very bossy,” she said, “and I work all the time.”

“Good thing we share an office.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s been easy enough for me.”

He was close enough to touch, so uncharacteristically open. Looking down at her with fondness she didn’t know he possessed.

“I’m selfish.” Malfoy warned, ��Do not forget that. I will help you destroy this law and anything else you want. Burn it all down if you want to. But I won’t be letting you go. Not now, after I've gotten you."

“I suppose that’s fine.” Hermione said softly, watching as his hand moved to touch her face, warm against her skin. "It'll be bearable to be around you, I suppose."

As he held her face in his hands, Hermione watched as his grin transform into something different, something new — a smile she'd only seen glimpses of, one only for her. "I'll work very hard to make our marriage a tolerable one." He said.

"Good," Hermione breathed, stretching up to kiss him, to finally press her lips against his, "I can't wait."

Hermione was married at 3pm on a Tuesday.

It was a small ceremony.

Harry, although he'd never publicly admit it, was relieved.

Despite his best attempts, he would've made a face when Hermione had kissed him.

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hugheswritetr · 3 months

Text

D-Day

MASTERLIST

Heartbeat | Jack Hughes

Author’s note: the longest chapters so far, hope you enjoy it;)

Song: Daylight- Taylor Swift

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The bathroom counter in my room is overflowing with make-up. As always, I decided to lay a little bit longer than necessary in bed as I should, and this is the result of it. I cannot even navigate through the stuff, making my frustration rise more.

My palms are sweaty, my arms are aching and the goddamn eyeliner is getting crooked more and more each time I try to fix it. This is not my day. I am hoping that it at least looks presentable, the last thing I want is to look horrendous on national television.

Don’t even get me started on my outfit, the new bought heels I put on to stretch already digging into my feet. Sure, the heels are Jimmy Choo’s ( I would never buy anything else ), but even the price tag can’t fix the already forming blister.

,,Thalia! Stop hogging the bathroom!” my brother screams from outside, banging on the door for the millionth time.

Did I mention it was the day of the draft?

The day Mattheo had been working towards his entire life, the past week of his life incredibly stressful, the combine and interviews going with being the fourth projected pick.

We had flown to Dallas two days later than him, residing in the Mariott hotel in downtown Dallas. The whole family is here for this once in a lifetime event. Whole family but one person.

I can see that it’s troubling him, dad was one of his biggest supporters, paying for various trainers and private ice time with them. Despite all that, he is not here. I am sad for him, remembering the special father and son bond between them.

,,Give me a second” I shout back at him, even though knowing that the second would be a lot longer. How much more can my arms ache?

,,Thalia!” my brothers annoyed tone making me screw up more ,,Come on!”

,,Oh my god Theo stop! You’re making me nervous!” I report back in annoyed sneer. “You?!Nervous ?!” I don’t know how he manages to be louder each time. “Are you forgetting it’s my draft day?!”

,,Oh my god! Fine!” I reply, trying to swiftly gather my things into my make-up bag. Luke’s bathroom will have to do. I open the door, revealing my annoyed brother standing there.

,,Finally” he says as he enters the bathroom. “Asshat,, I retort my last comment before leaving the room.

The trip down the hallway is short, five steps and I am already knocking on his door.

But the boy opening the door is not the brother I am expecting . ,,Thalia?” Jack is raising his eyebrow at me making me squirm under his gaze. ,,Um, Could I finish getting ready in your room? Mattheo needs to get ready and he can’t when I’m in the bathroom” the blush to my cheeks rising as I ask the question.

,,Sure, but Luke is not here” the newfound information making me almost wish I hadn’t come here. I enter the room and swiftly aim for the bathroom, hoping to get away from the awkward silence that fell between me and the boy who stole my heart and doesn’t even know it.

What I didn’t expect is him following me and sitting on the bathtub beside me. “So, what are we doing?” he asks, catching me off guard. “We?,, I nervously laugh. “Sure, Lils, I’m not going to sit there when I can keep you company,, he nonchalantly replies.

I pray he doesn’t see the effect he has on me and that the foundation tint is covering my red cheeks. If it hadn’t been for my mind replaying the sentence over and over again, I wouldn’t even notice the name he said.

“You know my name is Thalia, right?” I ask and he laughs like it is the greatest joke he heard for a while. “You think I’m dumb? Lils is my new nickname for you, you have lillies on your dress” he voices the detail of my dress.

,,Oh” it was as I forgotten all of the english vocabulary and the only response I can muster is this.

,,Let me help you, sit” he says, noticing me still not drawing the eyeliner right. “Jack, please, like you know how to do it” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And you do?,, he jokingly answers.

He puts his hand around my biceps and sits me down on the bathtub, standing up and taking the make-up tool from my hand.

I gaze up to him, admiring the focused look in his eyes, but most importantly admiring him. The small freckles covering the bridge of his nose, the pink hue on his cheeks from spending time in the sun. The lines of focus between his eyebrows reminding me that he is human, and not some carefully carved sculpture. Jack Hughes is perfection.

,,Here, done” he finishes drawing the eyeliner. I stand up, expecting the disaster on my eyes, but when I gaze into the mirror, the eyeliner is drew on, good? It honestly makes me surprised.

I voice my thoughts with surprised laugh ,,Where did you learn this?”. Jack looks at me “I often watch my girlfriend do make-up, I’m kind of a pro right now” the world girlfriend silencing my next words. I just stand there gaping at him, the awkward silence sweeping over the room. The sentence is a dig to my heart, reminding me that I can admire him all I want, but I can never have him.

I think that my guardian angels decided to help me, and thank god they did, because Luke enters the room.

,,Come on Jack, we have to go - Thalia?” he asks surprised. “Oh Hi Luke, I was just here to finish my make-up, Mattheo occupied the bathroom” I answer his confusion.

Quickly cleaning up the stuff, I gather it to my hands leaving the room ,,I should go see if mom and Theo are ready, see you” I leave without waiting for the answer.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

I am in a state of awe for the last 5 minutes, and the cause for a first time in a while is not Jack. As I am sitting in my seat, the NHL level stadium makes the situation feel ten times more real than back in the hotel, signalling the significance of the event.

Our seats are in the higher part of the arena, right before the Hughes family. Luke is shaking his leg notoriously, he seems even more nervous than Quinn and Theo, the actual people being drafted.

There is a limit on the amount my nerves can handle, and before I know , I am complaining to him ,,Luke! I swear to god, if you’re going to shake that leg one more time, I’m going to slice it” I say to him, making him widen his eyes. “Geez Thalia, never took you as the psycho type” Jack inserts himself into the conversation. Once again, reminding me of his unforgettable presence in my life.

My mother knowingly smiles at me, knowing the real reason for my snapping. I feel sad for Mattheo, one of the most important events of his life is here, and dad is missing. I can see it’s troubling him, so I put my hand around his leg.

,, He is looking, you know it right?” I say to him, trying to calm him. He offers me a bittersweet smile in response ,,I know”.

The ceremony soon begins, anticipation filling my entire body. The reports saying Mattheo is going to be one of the first first rounders - making it known that the fate of his draft is going to be revealed soon.

First pick belonged to Buffalo Sabres, and the smile on the lucky hockey protégé picked for them making me excited for Theo’s moment.

I am thinking, not even noticing that the next team is picking. Selfishly, I hope that he would be going to the Detroit Red Wings to be close, but I know he is going to be picked sooner.

Then the Montreál Canadiens appear on stage. Making the usual speech.

The second Mattheo's name is called by the Montreal Canadiens, we jump from our seats and scream in joy. First mom hugs him, her eyes are shining with tears making my own spill in reponse. I hug him too, being the proudest sister there is on planet earth in this moment, my heart soaring with happiness. He made it, and I couldn’t be more proud. He leaps a few steps up to the Hughes family to hug Quinn, his now former teammate. And then the journey to his new team begins.

My heart skips a beat as I watch him make his way to the stage, a mix of emotions swirling within me. Pride, excitement, and pure happiness radiating off him and in return, off me.

After the moment ends, we sit back down. I can basically feel the anxiety radiating from Quinn by not being picked yet. All I can do is plead with god and my dad to bring the moment sooner.

It is as they hear my prayers, because as soon as the Vancouver Canucks call the name of their next new player, my ears reach the sound of a name of the boy I had grown to care about so much over the span of past three and a half years. I jump from my seat for a second time, expierencing the happiness once again.

The proud feeling coursing through my body from both of the boys successful drafts is beautiful. Me and Luke hug, feeling proud of our eldest brothers and wanting to share the moment together. The two bestfriends made it onto the international stage, an accomplishment we will be celebrating for a long time.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The draft had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but seeing Quinn and Mattheo's dreams come true was an incredible moment.

We meet with them after the draft, the smile is permanently etched on their faces for the rest of the evening, making the whole group feel good.

The only thing that doesn’t feel good are my feet. Who suggested these painful heels? I know the answer, making me frustrated at myself. My ,,silent” huffing is unnoticed, until I see the middle Hughes boy stopping and waiting for me.

,,Come on, jump” He says, catching me off guard. “What?,, I reply, the confusing train of thoughts surging through me until he crouches . ,,Jump” he says, waiting for me to jump on him.

My proud mind is screaming at me not to, wanting to prove my mother I can wear heels for the whole evening even if she insisted I couldn’t.

But as I try to take another step, the pain spreading through my feet is too much for me to bear, making me jump on him.

Despite being dark, I can see daylight. Personified in the presence of him.

I don’t even notice the knowing look on the elder women faces as they watch us. As if secretly knowing what the future holds for us. We will soon find out.

#jack hughes #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nj devils #jack hughes blurb

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withoutyouimsaskia · 11 months

Text

Decisions (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @teenwolf-theoriginals

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Newly married. Fluff. You and Morpheus are due to attend an Endless family gathering and you ask Morpheus for points on what to wear.

Warnings: suggestive themes?

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Hello there! I'm still riding the high from meeting Tom at Basingstoke Comic-Con on Saturday (drabble post about the experience here) and it has boosted my creativity enough to finish this WIP that has been in my drafts for 2+ months. Thank you, Tom <3

Sandman Masterlist

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

You huff an emotion laden sigh into the air as you stare at the neatly displayed garments before you. Over thirty minutes have passed since you made the decision to open the wardrobe and try to choose an outfit.

You have run your fingers over each item at least ten times now in the hope that one of the textures would prompt you into committing. It’s been fruitless and now, you are standing in front of the gaping hole formed by the parted doors and feeling as if the clothes are taunting you.

Despite being wholly frustrated, you are reluctant to give up and come back to the task later with a clear head. You are going to be in the same room as all of the Endless siblings for the first time in a matter of hours and an urgency has taken hold of you.

You hear footsteps coming from the hallway and you immediately identify them as Morpheus'. Your unease turns to nausea. Surely it couldn't have been time to go already?

A quick check of your wristwatch allays your fears a little. It was not as late as you had feared. You plop down to sit at the foot of your bed; your frantic search does not need an audience. However, your tension still remains in your frame and you know it will not be long before it is noticed and queried.

As soon as your husband takes one look at you after entering the room, he walks straight over and says, "You appear troubled, my love."

You shake your head, forcing a smile. "Everything's fine," you answer breezily.

Morpheus picks up on your feigned nonchalance, astute gaze then falling to the anxious way you are unknowingly twisting your wedding band around your finger.

He speaks your name and the sound of it is like a whisper of the wind. You chance a peek at his face, his blue eyes overflow with concern.

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you immediately spill the truth of the situation.

"Actually, I'm struggling to decide what to wear for this evening."

"I would recommend something that you feel comfortable in," He replies softly.

You move off the bed, repeating the adjective in your mind as you pick anxiously through the clothes once more.

It's futile.

"I need some kind of brief to work to." You turn to fix him with an imploring look. "Please."

Morpheus begins to sense that your agitation might be masking something deeper. He decides to be open with you about his own feelings in the hope that you may open up in return.

He comes closer and takes both your hands in his.

"My only stipulation for this evening is that you sit between myself and my elder sister."

You protectively edge closer to your partner. His words give rise to a desire to understand if there is subtext accompanying his statement.

"Do you feel nervous?"

He pauses. "Not nervous. Apprehensive is a more apt descriptor."

You nod before admitting quietly, "I think I may be feeling the same as you, Morpheus."

His right hand finds your jawbone. "I'll be right there to support you."

You smile crookedly. "And I you."

He rubs small circles on your cheek with his thumb.

"We can also leave whenever you wish."

"Can we have a cut and run safe word?"

Morpheus is amused by your phrase, and the corners of his mouth pull up ever so slightly.

"I welcome it. What would like to choose?"

You contemplate silently. "How about if I call you Dream?"

You never use the name Dream for your husband, it has always been Morpheus. The name he had offered when you had first met. To use the alternative that his siblings used seemed like a smart choice; it wouldn't draw attention if you had to say it in anything other than a whisper.

"Dream," he confirms.

With some decisions made and comfort provided, you turn back to the wardrobe. You sigh once more as dejection rears its head.

"I shall be wearing this, if it is of any help to you."

You look round to see Morpheus gesturing to the outfit he has just willed into existence. He is sporting a black, flowy sleeved chiffon shirt. The buttons are done up all the way to the top, accentuating his perfect neck. His signature jeans and lace-up boots complete the look.

The change in your demeanour is like a match being lit. Your lips part, a solution forming in your mind.

"So smart casual?"

You are looking at him with such a hopeful expression. Heartfelt reassurance is the key; he can see how much you need it right now.

"Yes," he replies with an encouraging smile.

You now approach the wardrobe with confidence; posture straight, eyes up. Morpheus listens to you talking quietly to yourself as you pick your way across the rack from left to right.

“No, no, no… Ahh, there you are.”

You triumphantly produce a black shirt from a hanger, the sleeves of which are embroidered with delicate constellations and crescent moons, and a pair of black jeans from the adjacent drawers.

Morpheus places himself in a nearby chair and from his newly seated position, he watches you swap the oversized green jumper and blue jeans that you are wearing for the just-selected outfit.

You struggle for a moment in securing the cuffs of the shirt but soon you are standing in front of the mirror and smoothing the front of the garment down.

You turn to the side to inspect your profile. "What do you think?"

Morpheus comes up behind you. You maintain eye contact through the mirror.

"Perfect," he whispers in your ear. "You are perfect."

A heady blush spreads at his words. His arms slip around your waist

“Thank you for helping me.”

“You are most welcome, my love.”

It is impossible to keep your attention off of him. His own shirt is sheer enough for you to see his toned torso beneath.

His image, coupled with the combination of him suddenly kissing your neck has your stomach dropping deliciously. He continues until you are weak and dazed with pleasure.

You breathlessly turn to face him. Lust smoulders in his celestial eyes.

You have left the top two buttons of your shirt undone; Morpheus touches his fingers delicately to the exposed skin.

"I fear I may struggle to get through even the first course with you looking like this, my love," he murmurs.

You rest your palms on his chest.

"The safe word is there for you too, My King. Say the word and I'll go anywhere you want."

A low groan rumbles under your hands as well as in your ears. Morpheus leans in so he is mere millimetres from you.

He smirks flirtatiously. "Very well, my sweet dream.”

He then closes the remaining distance to hungrily press his lips to yours.

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drivinmeinsane · 6 months

Text

Bad Dog

※ Ryan Gosling!Ken x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Petplay, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Bondage and Discipline, Bondage, Strap Sucking, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Instances of crack treated seriously, Allan is an innocent bystander, Semi-public sex

※ Word count: 4,274

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Happy glizz fest everyone! Be sure to check out the wonderful participatory works by @hollandstrophyhusband, @ken-dom, @uncleclam, @danime25, and @ken-f-cker. A huge thanks goes to @yohohotookabiteofgumgum. This goofy fic would still be rotting in my drafts if she hadn’t helped me cook.

It’s evening by the time you find yourself at the door of what has now permanently become Ken’s mojo dojo casa house. Barbie hadn’t wanted to keep it, electing to move on with her existence in the real world. Ken hadn’t had the wherewithal to do the same. He remained in this plastic oasis, still coming to terms with being ‘just Ken’. He wasn’t progressing anything that had happened to him. There are still too many patriarchal ideas knocking around in that blond head of his, which is where you come in.

The other Barbies had been nervous about letting you go alone to confront him, but you had reassured them that you would be able to handle the situation just fine. Ken wouldn’t be a problem. He just needed a firm hand.

You press the large, heart shaped button serving as the doorbell. The chime echoes easily through the open concept home. Almost immediately, you hear the noises of objects being tossed aside as Ken hurries to answer the door. He swings the door open with such energy that you have to take a step back to avoid being hit with the saloon door. He stands in the doorway, arm slung over the plastic.

“Hey.” He squints at you, clearly confused as to why you’re not his ex-girlfriend.

You take in his disheveled appearance. It’s late and Ken has stripped off all the extra accessories that he piles on each time he leaves the house for the day. He’s just in his pants with the lightning bolts down the side. There’s not a watch or headband in sight. He looks softer like this, more authentic.

“Hi, Ken. I’m here to help you,” you tell him before going on the offensive and putting a hand on his bare chest. Despite himself, his eyes flutter closed at your touch and he shudders. Your other hand is occupied with holding onto your overflowing bag.

“H-help me with what?” When he speaks, it sounds as though he’s struggling to form thoughts, much less sentences. You’ve already overwhelmed him and you haven’t even gotten him upstairs yet.

“Being a better member of Barbieland,” you respond, trailing your hand down his chest before pulling it away. Depriving him. He nearly pitches over forward to chase after the contact. He’s even more needy than you had expected.

He barely collects himself enough to scramble for the macho persona he’s developed to make up for his insecurities. He can’t quite put on the indifferent mask, not when he’s looking at you with such wide eyes. He stands aside though, allowing you to pass by him into the spacious home.

“What do you mean by a… better member?”

“I’ve heard that you haven’t been a very good Ken lately, a lot of dolls are upset with what you’ve been getting up to.”

He frowns at your chiding words and looks away. There’s shame in the movement and you almost think he might apologize, making the lesson you came here to teach obsolete. The horse decor is so overwhelming that you reach out and gently cup his chin to get him to look at you. He’s a more pleasant sight than the 72’ inch screen of the same horse video looping over and over again. You ignore the tapestry fluttering in the corner over his shoulder.

The blond doll is trying to put on an indifferent face and failing miserably. “It’s impossible to do anything right. I can’t even get an appliance that has freezer space. ”

Your face softens. “I know. I can help you learn.”

“There’s nothing for me to learn. I learned everything I needed to know in Century City.” He pauses, taking in the hand still under his chin. He straightens up and pulls you into his muscular arms. You fight back surprise as he swings you into a low dip. “For instance, I learned what to do when someone pretty comes to your house in the middle of the night…”

He purses his lips and leans down to plant a kiss on you. You slap him across the face, hard. “Bad dog!”

Ken recoils, nearly dropping you as he reels back. He lets you drag yourself back into an upright position by using his shoulder for support. You shove his clinging arms away.

“I didn’t give you permission,” you say. Your tone is cold.

His eyes flit away from you. He’s holding onto his cheek with one broad hand. “Men don’t need permission.”

“Ken, you’re going to learn that they do.”

That gets a sarcastic laugh out of him. It’s unbearably obnoxious and part of you wants to strike him across the face again. You manage to hold yourself back by reassuring yourself that he’s about to get what he deserves.

“Prove it,” he says to you. He’s way too cocky.

He wilts a little under your unimpressed gaze. Even now, Ken is in desperate need of approval. That desire is what had gotten him into trouble in the real world. You suppose the fault doesn’t rest solely upon his shoulders when you consider that he had been treated like a second rate citizen, an accessory , for who knows how long.

You catch him by the arm. He brightens up at the meager contact. He follows willingly as you make the trek to the third floor. The bedroom is equally a decorative disaster to the ground floor, but you’re not here to make too many judgements about his interior design choices. You separate from him to put your bag down on the horse themed bedspread before pulling out the first of the many items you will be using for Ken’s lesson. You turn to face him. He stands slightly off to the side near one of the support pillars. The pose he’s striking seems to be one that’s attempting to portray an aura of confidence, but it doesn’t seem to be working out for him. He seems wrong-footed and uncertain.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He rolls his eyes at your demand but listens. The innate desire to obey is still in him. Tonight, your job will be to remind him that it exists. You feel like everything is going to plan while you calmly observe him settle in and look up at you expectantly from halfway across the room.

It’s time to move to the next stage. Thinking quickly, you pull his faux fur coat off the bed and spread it out onto the floor at your feet. “Come here.”

There’s a long moment where you think his pride will be too much, that he will refuse to listen to you, but he submits to your instruction once again. He does exactly what you meant for him to do. Instead of rising to his feet, he crawls across the floor to you. He pauses once he’s squarely on his coat. There’s a defiant look on his face that tries to inform you that he’s playing along just for now.

You kneel and fasten the collar that you’ve been holding in your hands around his neck. It fits snugly with just enough room to squeeze a couple fingers in between the bright pink material and his skin. There’s no tag on the collar. He hasn’t yet earned one. While he waits, you quickly pull out another object. After a quick adjustment, it’s ready.

“Take those off,” you order, gesturing to his pants, “and put this on.” you finish, throwing the mess of faux leather straps that you’ve been holding at him.

Ken picks up and turns it over in his broad hands, trying to decipher what it is. You don’t provide assistance. You’ve unclipped the arm restraints and tossed them onto the bed next to the bag. You’ll need them later. Ken isn’t quite at the point where you need that much control over him.

“This looks like something they had at that dance party place,” he mumbles to himself. You struggle to not raise your eyebrows. Just what had he gotten up to while in the real world?

His own words seem to assist him in connecting the dots because he flashes you a smirk. He launches into action. Almost as if he’s thinking this is some macho Century City display, he tries to sensually strip for you. He does an unnecessary amount of flexing and posturing while he pulls off his pants and clumsily tightens the straps around his waist and thighs. Once he’s sure everything is in place, he settles back on all fours. He’s fully naked now aside from the harness he’s wearing. The pink straps of the harness, made complete by the pink bows settled precisely on his asscheeks, are obvious against his tanned skin. He’s waiting rather impatiently for you to make the next move, but something else seems to register in his mind.

“Well? Why am I the only one exposed like this?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“It’s part of your lesson. Remember how you made the Barbies wear demeaning outfits?” You explain, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone. You would not be removing so much as your shoes during the duration of the lesson. He had done nothing to earn an eyeful of your skin. No visuals and no touching. Bad pets don't get the privilege.

He doesn’t respond, mulling over your words. You step onto the coat and offer him a pecan as a treat after pulling it from your pocket. His eyes light up at the sight of one of his favorite snacks and he eagerly takes it right from your hand. Good behavior gets rewarded. You decide to be magnanimous and offer him another scrap of affection. You pet him, running a firm hand over his head and down his back. He shivers at the touch.

“Part of being a good dog is minding your manners. Do you think you’ve been doing that?”

“You’re the one who is supposed to be listening to me, you know.” He’s smug in his wrongness.

That’s enough of a signal to you that the lesson needs to proceed. You slick your fingers liberally with the lube that you pulled from the bag during the time it took him to spew more patriarchal nonsense at you. You move into position behind him, crouching slightly to get better access. He turns to look at you curiously.

“Look straight ahead,” you correct.

He grumbles and you’re sure that he rolls his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I told you to do it. A good dog listens to his owner.”

“That’s not good enough of a reason.” He’s whiny, petulant.

You grab him by the hair and jerk his head into the position that you want. You’re thoroughly done with hearing him speak. “It’s about all the reason you gave the barbies when you decided to make Kendomland a reality.”

Ken stays silent after your rebuttal. His breathing is uneven, however, and you notice that he’s flushed. The back of his neck is all but glowing in the dim light. You decide that he’s ready. You transition your grip from his hair to his shoulder, hooking your fingers over the firm muscle. He won’t be able to go anywhere without purposely struggling. With your free hand, you nudge your way between his cheeks to circle his tight hole. He jerks at the unexpected touch and you feel him start to tremble in your hold as you slip a lubricated finger into him. You start pumping it inside of him, opening him up enough to introduce a second finger. He instinctively spreads wider for the intrusion. Perhaps he was made to be a different kind of doll.

By the time you’re scissoring your pointer and middle fingers in him to work up enough space for your ring finger, he’s a gasping, shaky mess. You cast a glance to check on his state and find him open mouthed and nearly drooling onto the faux fur coat underneath him, not even bothering to wipe his mouth. He’s trying to rock back against your hand, utterly smitten with the new sensation you’ve introduced him to. Abruptly, you withdraw your fingers. He whines, almost doglike, at the sudden emptiness.

“Good Ken, good.” He squirms at the praise. “You know that good boys get gifts and I have one to give you right now.”

You produce the butt plug you’ve brought with you and press it against his entrance. It slips in with no resistance, you had fucked him right open with your fingers. He makes a wounded noise and clenches around the new introduction.

“Oh Mattel! Oh Mattel !” He gasps, his arms are struggling to support him. He’s nearly face down on his coat while he fights to collect himself.

“Mattel can’t help you here.”

He tries to grab for his achingly hard erection. It has been left completely neglected during this entire lesson so far and it must have him at a breaking point. He can’t be allowed to give himself any relief, however. It would spoil the lesson. You slap him across the ass, avoiding the bow-adorned strap that crosses over the pliant flesh.

“That hurt,” he whines, the imprint of your hand blooming across his skin.

“Your actions hurt everyone in Barbieland,” you remind him.

“I was just trying to set things right,” he protests. His argument isn’t all that compelling given that he’s on his hands and knees with his asshole firmly plugged.

Letting out a sigh, you move to fully restrain him by putting the leather cuffs you had set aside earlier around his wrists. If he is going to try to touch himself without explicit permission, he needs to be bound. You guide his arms into place behind his back and clip them into place onto his harness. He’s fully restrained and completely at the mercy of whatever you decide to allow him.

Ken is trembling a little on spread knees. His body is curved into an uncomfortable arc while he sits back on his haunches. He’s a marble sculpture come to life, blinking and breathing, on the floor of his unfairly acquired residence. You know the unyielding butt plug must be digging into him in a way that feels pleasurable because his cock is standing at attention, glittery precum beading at the tip of his slit and shining like a diamond in the moonlight.

You leave him there, vulnerable and pent up, while you go to slip your own harness on. Unlike Ken’s, it’s not meant to restrict movement. You make the final adjustments to the straps and secure the dildo that you will be using for tonight’s session. It’s made of a crystal clear silicone, gradiented from purple to pink. His lips will look pretty wrapped around it.

Crossing the scant few feet between you and the waiting figure, you come to a stop in front of him. His gaze narrows in on the silicone cock sitting proudly against your clothed pelvis. It’s an easy thing to coax his mouth open. You simply press your thumb to the corner of his lips and he lets his jaw relax and opens up for you. Keeping his head steady with a hand fisted in his hair, you slowly push the dildo past his lips, sliding it over his tongue. You make him stretch forward so that he finds himself struggling to not choke himself on the silicone. You cannot make his lesson too easy, you’d be a bad trainer.

“Suck it,” you tell him, and he does.

His lips seal around the shaft and you’re glad that you can’t feel the inexperienced scrape of his teeth against it. You use your grip on his hair to drag him up and down the length of the dildo. Eventually he gets the hang of the motion and starts enthusiastically sucking you off. Your hand loosens in those blond strands and you merely watch him, letting him take control in this submissive capacity. He has no issues taking the silicone all the way to the base. His gag reflex is nonexistent. You praise Ken with small niceties when he makes a particularly effortful attempt. He receives a ‘good boy’ and a soft scratch of his scalp when he pulls all the way off and licks at the tip while sheepishly making eye contact with you.

Eventually, you do have to call it quits after he’s thoroughly acquainted himself with the dildo. You don’t want him too worn out before the main part of the training session gets underway. Sliding two fingers against his warm skin and the leather of the collar he’s wearing is enough to hold him in place as you slip out of his mouth. Strings of spit connect the tip of the silicone cock to his mouth. His lips are puffy and his eyes are a little glazed. He’s clearly used, maybe a little cock-drunk. He leans after the strap, nearly face planting onto the fabric underneath him in his eagerness to continue.

“Easy, Ken. Don’t get too excited.”

“I’m not excited,” he argues, voice rough. His body betrays him. He’s not slumped so far forward that you can’t see the way his erection twitches and shines with sparkling precum. He’s so wet and you haven’t even touched him.

“Of course not. Down.”

“Why? Haven’t I had enough?”

“Because your lesson isn’t over,” you explain patiently.

Ken hesitates, eyeing the coat. He lowers himself, chest first to the floor, hissing as his sensitive nipples receive the barest hint of stimulation. His face is all but rubbing into the faux fur. The position elevates his hips for easy access. You pull the butt plug from him and toss it onto the coat. It’s going to leave another wet spot. You get the dildo ready with lube. The rapidly drying saliva coating it isn’t going to provide enough slickness to penetrate him with.

He shifts uncomfortably while he waits for you to get prepared to breach him. Much to his obvious relief, he doesn’t have to wait too long before you’re taking his hips in hand and guiding him downwards onto the thick cock. He makes a sound like you’ve stricken him when you finally bottom out, your pelvis flush against his ass. He’s so tense against you that you take some pity on him and rub your thumb in soothing circles on his hip bone.

“Good dog. You’re taking it so well.”

The praise drags a shudder out of him but he relaxes. He can’t hide under layers of bravado and poorly understood misogyny gained from library books when he’s at your mercy like this. You set up a steady rhythm, punching noises out of him. He’s getting loud, too loud. If he doesn’t shut up he’s going to show the entirety of Barbieland how much of a slut he is. The Barbies were aware that you would be paying Ken a special visit tonight for some training, but you had neglected to inform them of what exactly that training would entail. Ken’s rehabilitation was taking a more intimate hand than they would have presumed and you would like to keep them in the dark about precisely what your method is. You needed to get him quiet.

Struck by a realization, you abruptly pull out, leaving Ken reeling and empty. You briskly dig the gag you had brought as an emergency measure out of the bag still resting on the bed. You should have known he would be as much of a loudmouth while getting fucked as he is in day to day life.

“Why did you stop? Are we gonna flip things around now?” He questions with a confused look on his face, sitting up slightly to watch what you’re doing. There’s no disguising the suggestive roll of his words. How he could still think he could end up on top at this point is a mystery. You have given him nothing to indicate that he would be at all dominant tonight.

He follows up his questions with another inquiry upon seeing the pink, silicone bone secured on its leather strap. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” you tell him, already trying to get it into position. Ken immediately sees where this is going. He doesn’t take it as easily as he’s taken everything else you’ve thrown at him tonight. He keeps his mouth tightly shut until you work a finger into the corner of it like you had earlier. He relents and allows you to slip the pink bone between his teeth and to buckle the strap around his head. Always desperate to please anyone who takes even a passing interest in him.

You trail a hand down his spine, grab his harness at the hip and guide yourself back into the tight heat of him. You resume thrusting into him like you had never left in the first place. It’s all he can do brace himself as best as he can while you fuck into him. He meets you thrust for thrust, chasing his own pleasure. You wonder if he will end up coming from this, untouched, glittery ropes splattering over his belly and over his coat. It would not surprise you.

Over the muffled and choked off gasps of the doll you’re playing with, you hear a scuffle and a sharp intake of breath. Your eyes scan the dreamhouse before you turn your searching gaze to the street below just to make direct eye contact with a horrified looking Allan. He’s staring comically wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t been a part of President Barbie’s meeting about tonight, and must have not heard from anyone to stay clear of the dreamhouse cul-de-sac. His face screams that he has seen too much. Mattel, if only he had been able to get out of Barbieland when he had had the chance.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, and to your own growing horror, he raises a hand and awkwardly waves to you. You weakly think that there are some occasions when neighborly courtesies can be skipped. To your own dismay, you take one of your own hands off Ken’s hip and wave back to Allan. You both wear matching grimaces. He breaks eye contact with a dazed shake of his head and recedes off into the darkness to do whatever it is he does at night. He must not be part of the Ken huddle if he’s wandering around near the dreamhouses this late. For his part, Ken is utterly oblivious during the exchange, too busy getting lost in forcing himself back onto your strap.

With a smothered shout, he finally cums, proving you right about falling over the brink completely untouched. He soaks the faux fur below him with an obscene amount of glittery semen. He shudders and clenches around the strap still seated in him. You fuck him through the aftershocks, wringing him dry. You think you can hear him sobbing around the gag from his face down position on the floor.

You slip free of his ass for the final time this evening and take off the strap-on harness in order to toss it onto the floor. It misses the coat. He doesn’t look at you when you kneel down at his side.

“Ken,” you say, voice soft. He jerks in acknowledgement but doesn’t turn. You reach over and undo the clips for the wrist restraints. He makes no effort to keep his arms from falling to his sides, leaden. You unbuckle the gag, working carefully to avoid snagging his hair in the process. Slipping a hand under his jaw to force his face off the coat, you pull the silicone bone from between his teeth. You tip his head towards you, but he refuses to make eye contact. His face is flushed and wet with tears and saliva. Despite yourself, you feel a small pang of sympathy at his state. It was deserved after the stunt he pulled, but he looks so fucked out and spent.

“Look at me.”

He does, obedient despite everything he’s been through. His blue eyes are teary and red-rimmed. His throat moves like he’s trying to speak but nothing comes out. Poor dog.

You grab hold of his arm, encouraging him to his feet. He stands unsteadily, almost swaying on his feet. While you undo his restraint system, you can’t help but notice that his coat is matted in wet patches. It won’t be coming clean, not with the glitter matting the fur. It’s just as well though, it was a symbol of Ken’s insecurities. You steer him the short distance to the bed after the pink straps of the harness fall at his feet. He sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress. You join him, getting comfortable before you guide him onto his side to let him rest his head on your lap. Remembering Ken’s earlier treat, you pull some pecans out of your pants pocket and offer them to him. He eats them right out of your hand.

“What did you learn?” You question, petting him while he chews.

“I think I like being a good dog. Will… will you visit again?” His voice falters, meek. He’s back to being the more docile version of himself that he was before the ill-fated trip to the real world, however, now he has enough experience to be more aware of his actions and the actions of others.

You continue petting him. “I suppose I could come by to pay my dog a visit if he keeps being a good boy.”

#barbie (2023)#ken #barbie fanfic #ken fanfic #glizz fest 2023 #my posts #my work

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glowingbadger · 2 years

Note

Ooh, for your kink prompts ask game, could I please request cockwarming (#33) with Rohan and a female reader? 😽

FINALLY a Rohan ask- I love that fucking weirdo so much.

Also this is too long and they will not all be this long but no one ever asks me for JoJo stuff so I got carried away lmao

Rohan (JJBA) x fem/afab Reader

Kink prompt list #33 - cockwarming

NSFW 18+ V

Your face burns warm as you nuzzle into the crook of Rohan's neck, shifting awkwardly on his lap as he works, yet he hardly pays you any mind. One hand rests forgotten at your upper thigh while his other is busy drafting the next chapter of his manga, moving with awe-inspiring precision. You know his dedication to his craft to be unwavering, but you're still shocked and impressed at the extent of his unshakeable focus. Even as his thick, hardened cock fills you, grinding into your clinging inner walls when you move even an inch, he hardly takes his eyes from the page before him.

"Rohan... please..." you softly whine, clinging to the front of his clothes. Your cunt squeezes around him, your overflowing arousal dripping down his shaft. He sighs.

"Getting impatient already?" his gaze never falters, lines flowing from his pen like practiced formulae as he speaks, "If I remember, you were the one who insisted on disrupting my work to begin with."

It is true enough that you'd hoped to tempt him away from his drafting desk for a little while. You hadn't anticipated that he'd instead pull you onto his lap then and there.

"But... this is too-"

"Too much?" he scoffs, and finally deigns to set down his pen. Turning his arresting gaze on you, his hand at your chin forces you to face him. "Do you even realize how many would beg for the opportunity to serve the great Kishibe Rohan like this?" the curl at the corner of his lips makes it seem like a joke, but you know he's at least partially serious. A single elegant finger traces the curve of your bottom lip, and his voice lowers, "You should be grateful I haven't decided to use Heaven's Door to keep you still, with all that pathetic squirming you've been doing."

Your eyes dart to the side, but your lower body clenches and clings around his length at the idea- and you know he notices. His eyes darken, his slanted grin widens.

"Oh, is that what you want? You should have just said so- I could have done without all of this distraction."

With that, Rohan activates his stand, the front of your chest opening into written pages before him. The momentary discomfort still causes you to shift a little, grinding his cock into you even deeper, but you've become somewhat accustomed to Heaven's Door by now. Heart pounding with anticipation, you watch as he writes on your pages,

Y/N cannot voluntarily move her body below the waist.

You think he's done at first, then he adds,

Y/N experiences an intense sexual climax when commanded by Kishibe Rohan, and only when commanded.

You part your lips to speak, but Rohan closes the pages, watching them fold back into your body before meeting your eyes once more.

"There. Now we can manage your needs as I work. Aren't you grateful, Y/N?" he urges you closer to him, nearing until his lips brush yours as he speaks, "You must feel so lucky to be with someone who can satisfy you like I can."

You lean in, anticipating his kiss, but it never comes. Instead, he's already returning to his work, eyes turned to the clean sheet of paper at his desk. You pout uselessly at him, and mutter,

"You're incredibly cruel..."

He makes no reply at first, but levels his gaze on you once more. Then, his words low and deliberate, he says,

"Cum for me, Y/N."

You hardly have a moment to consider your fate before hot, urgent pleasure explodes at your center. Panting and whimpering, you paw at your lover's chest as you cum hard around his cock, your pussy gushing with arousal, your clit aching and quivering. Without control of your lower body, you're simply made to endure relentless ecstasy, and the way Rohan's member throbs in response. Yet through your blissful haze, even as your head tilts back and your vision blurs, you finally hear it- his soft but earnest groan of pleasure.

He must realize how unsteady you are in the wake of your sudden climax, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you forward to his chest. The tenderness of the gesture catches you off guard, but perhaps these bizarre contradictions are what you've always adored about Rohan. As he returns fully to his work at last, you nestle against him and resolve not to interrupt him again. At least, not until the next time the delicious pressure of his cock buried deep inside of you makes you beg to cum.

#kishibe rohan #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo part 4 #rohan jjba #rohan x reader #kink prompt #not sfw #jjba x reader #jjba smut #rohan

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hanbindans · 10 months

Text

ways they're comforting (hyung line)

a/n: listening more closely to the in bloom lyrics ruined me so I'm posting this from my drafts. I'll get to the maknae line soon enough but since I already wrote the hyungs I'll post them first. enjoy me screaming into the void 🤍

jiwoong

you're like the older brother I never had. there's something comforting in the way you are exactly how I want to be when I grow up; considerate and caring and willing to love someone regardless of their flaws- kind to others but more importantly to yourself. you remind me that it's possible to go through all the stages of adolescence and young adulthood, and both see and feel so much hopelessness and negativity and doubt, and still be able to see happiness in all the small things. like finding peace in petting a small, fluffy animal. you've become the type of adult we all look up to. I'm so proud of you.

hao

I don't know, I just see so much of myself in you. in the way you were the smart kid who did well in school, the kid who worked hard at everything he did, the kid who got compliments from teachers and other people's parents. you could have had anything you wanted- you would have done what it takes to achieve it- and you chose with your heart. people probably had a lot of (high) expectations on you and you made a decision that was for you- something that you really wanted- and you worked as hard as you always did because you knew that you could do it if you really wanted to. I envy your courage to chose with your heart and follow your dreams. maybe one day I can learn it from you.

hanbin

sometimes I think that I can see when your perfect mask starts to slip and your facade cracks a little, and you race to patch up the holes before anyone takes notice. it's okay. I do it too. in some ironic way it makes you even more relatable. there's so much good in you and there's even more desire to be good, do good, make it overflow and spread to everyone around you and paint the whole world in yellows, smiley-faces and sunflowers. "don't regret what you do". I'm not sure if it's meant for me or for yourself. I hope it's for yourself. I hope you let yourself be bright, loving, and most importantly happy, even if it makes you imperfect, more raw, and easier to hurt. people will be ready to love you just as you are. they will love you because they want to return the good you have given. you make me want to do more good.

matthew

there's something very genuine in the way you carry yourself. it's unfair to just call it "unfiltered"- I think I would call it unapologetic, authentic, honest. you're not the type of person to lie about what type of music you listen to or order a plain salad when you're with people you don't know too well. I still have a feeling that you want to be impressive, but you don't try hard to impress. you want to do and be and try so many different things but you won't do it anything at your own expense. you will always say what's on your mind, always do things your way, even if not everyone agrees with you, because it's your life and you won't live it for others. it's admirable. please don't ever start apologising for the way you are.

taerae

I love how you're the colour yellow personified. from the duck emojis to the way you laugh at every joke like they're the funniest thing you've ever heard. you're so warm and fun and I just want to be around you all the time so I can re-learn how to be silly and not wince at the way my face scrunches up when I laugh. it's like you've already figured it out. how to be kind and caring and happy without being scared of being soft and vulnerable. there's so much comfort but also stability and security radiating from you and it's so infectious. I hope you never waver from that. I hope your laugh will always fill up the room and you will keep drawing your ducks and you will keep making your silly little poses. you seem like you're having so much fun.

#zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone scenarios #zb1 reactions #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #zb1 drabbles #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone drabbles #zb1 #zerobaseone #kim jiwoong #sung hanbin #zhang hao #kim taerae #seok matthew #this was the most I could do without it turning into incoherent rambling #but I do like these guys a lot actually they are all very neat

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hyperfixat · 10 months

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refined this draft from febuwhump (forced to hurt a loved one) i posted it on ao3 a little bit ago but yeah here u go tumblr

lmk ur thoughts or go to my inbox w fic suggestions or wtvr

cw suicidal attempt (?)

satan, lucifer, mammon x reader (mc)

It's another one of Diavolo’s extravagant balls. It is the day you die.

You’re not scared. Well, not of death. You know the brothers care about you, deep down you know this. You're scared of how your death will affect them. You don’t know who you will have to take you, whoever is easiest to drag from the festivities, likely.

The music is lovely and Asmo’s beautifully manicured hand is clutching your arm and his eyes look so picturesque in the reflection of the thousands of yellow fairy lights magically strung throughout the castle’s ballroom.

Lucifer dismisses himself from your party to greet Diavolo, wings wide and blocking your view of the prince. It is probably for the best if you do not see him. Diavolo’s charm might sway your decision, and in the end you’ll regret not going through with this.

You know you will.

The air is stuffy and nerves lick at your spine when you detach from Asmo and innocuously scan the room for a brother looking uninterested in the dances.

Leviathan managed to sneak his handheld gaming device in, and is crouched in the corner, absorbed in his game. You consider approaching him, but Satan catches your eye through the crowd. The smirk that creeps over his face when you wave him over makes your heart skip a beat, and you already feel horrible about what you’re going to make him do.

“MC,” Satan takes hold of your hand and presses a soft kiss to the top of your hand, lips lingering a moment too long. “Care for a dance?”

“Actually.” You begin to sweat, your outfit feels all too tight as worry and remorse begins to take hold of your mind. “Could you join me in the garden for a bit?”

His eyebrows rise in mild surprise. “Oh? Of course, MC. I’d be glad to.”

You both take a glance around the room to be sure that Lucifer or Barbatos’ prying eyes aren’t making note of you two sneaking off. You lead him through the rose bushes and devillilly sprouts, past the pond where the firefish swim, all the way to a small cleared section of grassland that isn’t landscaped.

You barely take note of the way your eyes begin to bead with tears, but Satan does. When you face him, he frowns and lifts a hand to cup your face and wipe away your sadness.

“Satan, you know I love you, right?” You sniff. “And I’m sorry for making you do this, but,” your eyes prick with tears as you watch confusion settle on Satan’s face.

“Do what? MC, what are you…?” He’s cut short as you give your final pact command.

“Please be gentle with me.” You say it like a prayer, to the one who you’re letting end your fate. “Satan, I command you to kill me.” The words come out thick with tears and your throat is so tight Satan might not have to lay a finger on you lest you suffocate on your tears.

The air flickers with palpable tension, Satan’s demon form flicks out and he’s clenching his jaw hard. His whole body is vibrating and his hand flies from your face like you’re made of flame.

“MC, please revoke the command,” it leaves him choppy and strained. “Don’t make me….” Hurt, confusion, anger all bubble up inside Satan.

You fall to your knees as tears finally overflowing from your waterline, you’re hurting him.

A shadow looms over you and a trembling hand cups your jaw. His fingers are hot, much hotter than they normally are, you note.

You wonder how he’ll do it. Crush your skull in? Choke you? Break your vertebrae? Maybe he has poison fangs or something of the sort he’ll puncture you with?

“Mammon!” Satan shouts, but it cracks in volume. “MAMMON!” His eyes are staring at his hands in horror as they trace their way to wrap softly around your throat.

“BEELZEBUB!” A faux squeeze grips your airways for a moment before Satan is being pulled roughly off of you.

Your eyes fly open and Beel is physically restraining his older brother, who struggles weakly against the hold.

Mammon grabs you, and pulls you into his chest as he stands.

“MC, what’re you doing? Please, don’t let ‘im take you.” His face presses into your scalp as you ragdoll in his arms. “Please don’t.”

Satan makes a cacophony of snarls and wounded noises as Beelzebub continues to be an unmoving cage.

The noise has attracted the rest of the brothers to visit, unfortunately. Asmodeus is followed by Lucifer and Belphegor. The shaky cage of Mammon’s arms protects you from the worried gazes of the brothers.

“Lucifer, tell them to revoke the command,” Satan hisses out. He makes a particularly hard jerk in Beel’s arms and for a second Beelzebub wavers before regaining himself. “Get them to revoke it or get them away from me.”

“YN, what have you asked of him?” Lucifer strides over to you, kneeling in front of you. When you try to squirm away he reaches out for your jaw to force you to look at him.

A whine leaves you and you shake your head no.

“To kill them.” Satan chokes out.

The clearing falls silent save for your muffled hyperventilating tears. Mammon holds you tighter and the gaze of everyone is burning into you.

“Leviathan, Asmo, assist Beelzebub with getting Satan inside the Demon Lord’s Castle. Barbatos and Diavolo can handle him. Belphegor join them and please go grab some blankets from the castle. Mammon, let me see them please.”

The brothers follow Lucifer’s orders without complaint, save for Mammon who muffles a sob into your hair.

“Mammon.” Lucifer prompts and you sink further into Mammon’s hold. You hope Lucifer won’t be too angry with you. A cold, leather clad hand rests on the top of your head. It slides to cup your jaw and you inhale shakily as you allow your face to be lifted to meet Lucifer’s.

“I’m not disappointed in you. I am sorry that I hadn’t seen that anything was wrong. Please don’t go through such lengths to end your life again, little one. I… cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

Mammon’s grip on you tightens and he trembles around you. The intensity of Lucifer’s darling red eyes is making you squirm and you avert your gaze to a spot just beyond him.

“MC.” Lucifer calls your name again, and tries to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” it comes out raspy and so quiet that if he weren’t a demon he wouldn't have been able to hear you.

“You don’t need to apologize, my star.” Your eyes meet and your jaw trembles in his hand. Lucifer leans in and places a kiss on the crest of your head. The sound of leaves crunching under dress shoes makes you flinch and glare over in the direction it’s coming from.

Belphie is walking, faster than he ever does, to your little trio. His body is burdened with a huge stack of marvelous comforters. They’re hand sewn with intricate images and designs and thick as sin.

“Thank you, Belphegor.” Lucifer raises himself to snag one off the top of the pile and with a flourish, wraps it over you (and Mammon, still crying softly and clinging to your body).

“Are they… are they alright?” He sounds so unsure, so meek and out of character.

“They will be,” Lucifer affirms, looking deep into your eyes. He motions for Belphie to join him in front of you. “Let us sit for a while. I trust the others to let Satan return when it is safe.”

With the heat of the moment smoldering down and adrenaline leaving your body, your tired eyes grow heavy. The weight of Mammon and the blanket is soothing and you feel yourself subconsciously leaning forward towards Lucifer’s open chest.

“Come on, little one,” Lucifer’s voice is soft and comforting. Your eyes slip shut as he helps guide your head into his lap and against his stomach.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me comfort #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me brothers #om lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me brothers x reader #cw sui #tw sui #cw sui attempt #tw sui attempt

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anime-rambles · 2 years

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"Some Alpha you are, Patheitc!" Snippet

Pairing: Alpha!KiriBaku x Omega!Reader

Type: Angst, hurt, NSFW if you squint.

Word Count: Snippet - full parts soon

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and love for my work, little snippet here of something i've bee working on, almost finished and super excited to share with you all. My drafts are overflowing currently with all the fix's i've been writing, to stay up to date with everything or want to be tagged, I have a new taglist form follow the link below and it will bring you too it. Much love as always, Tiff <3

Summary: You and Bakugou knew one thing for certain, Kirishima was already in your clan. But with your heat approaching you belived it was time to say it outloud, little did you know Bakugou is a very jealous, insecure alpha and feels threatened...

Permanent Tag List: @jasmine2042003 @jazzylove @amypop122 @misssugarless @plutounderbridges @butterscotch-babie @backoftheletter @gojosslvt @himi-yuu @ebiharachan @black-rose-29

MHA Tag List: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @mystiqueewrites @belzeblitz @moonygeno413 @ace-the-side-character @unlogical-ella @moonseye @vaellee @corruptowlette @pasteldaze @24-7-multifandomsimp @yetoadet @ninetyeightrins @kirissluttypebble @elaineplayz @phantomalchemist @tigerd-draws @kunaigirlx44 @jujutaku @adventures-in-a-heartbeat @cmars59 @upinacloud @yourdragonsfire @uwiuwi @burningbluegalaxy @kirislilwhorewife @kuzusouda-and-terumaru-blog @kat-perdue @ebiharachan @lazyafgurl @bratty-fics @eraserheads-sleeping-bag

TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

“Katsuki, please you're not listening to me” tears stream down your face as you try to get your alpha to understand, yes bringing this up was the best thing to do but also probably not the greatest of timing with your heat coming so soon.

“No, why should I listen to you, you want another alpha? I am listening y/n? Did I hear wrong?” he questioned you, staring deep into you

“Well i–”

“Well what ‘mega? Fucking speak!” He shouted at you, pumping anger pheromones into your room. You froze, trying not to flinch at his pheromones because you knew it would hurt him deeply if you were scared.

“You know what, no I'm not listening to this, I'm not good enough for you? Fine, i’ve a mission starting soon but I think I'll start it today. your next heat coming up? Spend it alone” with that Katsuki walked out the door, slamming it behind him. You cried and cried, you knew going after him would be a mistake so you didn't. You just stood in your grief. This was not how it was supposed to go. You simply asked Bakugou if he would be open to adding another alpha to your pack, bringing in Kirishima. The only thing yous dont do together is sex? So what would be the harm, you loved Kirishima and you know Bakugou loved him too if he would just admit it. Kirishima spent many a night in your nest with the two of you, scenting each other after hard missions. Your omega called out to him, and you knew Kirishima felt the same about you both.

Bakugou was right, your heat coming soon, and you were going to be alone for it. For the first time since you and Bakugou got together in UA, you were going to spend it alone and that terrified you. Your omega whined, and your chest felt tight. The tears still fell from your eyes and your lungs were screaming at you to take some deep breaths.

#bakugou x kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha fanfiction #alpha!kirishima #bakugou x kirishima #alpha kirishima x reader #alpha bakugou x reader #alpha!bakugou #alpha bakugou #omega reader #bnha omegaverse #omega!reader #abo dynamics #abo mha #bakugou x reader #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #alpha kiribaku

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chao-thicc-hcs · 11 months

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tws: mentions of blood, saddness, slight hint of suicide, absolute word-vomit because I am sick as hell, but this has been sitting in my drafts for decades

genre(s): angst with no comfort

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song(s) to listen while reading:

youtube

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┃

✥

Mikey had his fair share of partying and lecherous moments. For the first few months after your death he felt pure joy, he wasn't himself. Imagine how bad things were to even feeling the need to celebrate it. Mikey was a masochistic fool, never bothering to appreciate what the universe had given him, all the ways out of his suffering. He thought the freed way of life would suit him more. What he failed to realize is how this will lead him to a terrible demise.

Gradually, the sweet, blissful moments of him coming home without a nagging lover to give him headaches formed a growing emptiness inside of him. Not even sinning brought him joy. Every person he hooked up with was replaced with the image of you in his head. He never noticed how much you meant to him until he started seeing you still roaming around the rooms, smiling at him and gesturing to come and embrace him in a hug.

- Y/n.. Are you real?

You didn't answer vocally. Your once sparkling eyes now were deep, black, lifeless orbs. Your touch was cold and seemed distant. This would happen frequently. Mikey coming back home, alone, with ''you'' sitting on the couch, your smile dazzling and relaxing his muscles after a long, tiring day. ''You'' walking around being your usual self and gesturing him to approach you and give you a kiss, which always seemed transparent and empty. When he covered himself and let the wieght of the blankets overpower him, with ''you'' laying next to him, embracing his figure. ''Your'' cooking's smell around the rooms, ''your'' chirpy laugh echoing through the apartment. Until one day, what seemed to be ''you'' never came back. Mikey came home to a small box in your favourite color, and a ribbon in his favourite color. Inside was an old picture from your first date together, soaked in the familiar, potent scent of your favourite Karolina Kurkova perfume. He sat on the couch, tears flowing down his cheeks, hugging the picture and sobbing until his head ached.

From that day on, the hole in his heart grew with the speed of light every day he came back to your previously shared home alone, with the only trace of you being the clothes bought from him you never got to wear, and your casual attire, still stained with blood and bitter tears. They were emitting despair and betrayal. He was yearning for ''you'' to come back, just so he could apologize, but to no avail. ''You'' vanished peacefully.

He never took you out on fancy events, never spent time with you nor viewed you as an equal. Never got the chance to see your figure wrapped around the expensive material of the now collecting dust pieces of fabric, or your neck, face and limbs embellished with the sui generis accessories you seemed to take interest in the first stages of your relationship, bought from him on your anniversary. Mikey found himself hugging your most worn shirts until he fell asleep, feeling like the room he used to sleep with you in turning into void, and your smell eternalizing in his nose.

Once again, the invincible Mikey fell into despair, succumbing into his own darkness. He never felt alive, nothing managed to salvage him from the ripples of your cherished memories. He proved he never deserved anything other than suffering, for he destroys every weal the universe sends him in a desperate attempt to heal his inner self and bring him back to stability. His life went downhill. Lost control over his own gang, the overflowing guilt, anger and disappointment flicked a switch and turned him into a monster, even worse than he already was.

He stole the urn from your parents' house, precisely from your bedroom. Wasn't very hard, for the room was without surveillance. They didn't care about you enough to even bother to clean the dust. After you got into a relationship with a hoodlum, they disowned you, exclaiming that you're no longer welcome in their lives. Mikey wanted to kill them on the spot, but he didn't want them to reunite with you and inflict more harm on you, even in the afterlife.

The urn remained on the nightstand next to your spot in your previously shared bed. He made sure to clean it every time he woke up and went to bed, hugging it for a couple of minutes and talking to it, sharing how his day went, how much he misses you and how sorry he is for everything he made you go through.

This wasn't enough. Mikey didn't feel like this wasn't enough. He wanted to apologize to you personally, to finally see the same eyes that sparkled with happiness and warmth when you initially began dating. He felt like this was the right thing to do... ''Yes... that's what's needed, that's what I have to do, that's... the only way out of my eternal guilt." was what he thought when his lean finger pulled the trigger. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━❧

#Youtube #mikey #sano manjiro #manjiro sano angst #mikey angst #angst #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev angst

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rainbowsky · 4 months

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Hope you are well 🙂

Assuming you are an adult working in a job, how do you manage multi tasking with regularly maintaining this blog along with job, personal life stuff etc?

I have tried doing many things at once but got tired of it easily 🥲

Hi Anon, I'm doing well, thanks! Hope you are too! 🙂

Hehe, the easy answer to this question is, I don't. I really don't keep up with any of this. I'm just constantly trying to stay afloat.

I have an inbox that is embarrassingly overflowing. Every one of those messages is someone who had a question or something they wanted to discuss, and their message fell into the abyss.

For every 20 asks I get, I might have time to answer one or two that I have the info ready at the top of my head, or that is easy to find the details on. True, some of the unanswered asks are of the sort I wouldn't be likely to respond to anyway (anti messages, repeats of things that I've already responded to, topics I don't want to discuss), but most are not in those categories.

I have a drafts folder that is similarly bursting at the seams, and a long list of posts that I've started and haven't gotten around to finishing. Bigger projects, some of which I have been picking away at for years. Reviews for dramas, films, songs, performances, etc. that haven't yet finished writing about (not to mention the dramas I'm not done watching!). Ask responses that are thousands of words long but not yet wrapped up. A masterlist post that is many months behind updating, and posts that are getting harder and harder to keep track of.

Lately I've been mainly updating with GG and DD's content - all the great photos and videos that only take a few minutes for me to post - and the occasional ask response.

It makes me really sad, to be honest. There's so much more that I want to share that I've been unable to. But I do what I can.

There are a couple of posts in particular that really mean a lot to me, that I've been unable to finish for various reasons - primarily lack of time and emotional/mental energy.

I also have to contend with my ND brain, which requires deep investment to keep a particular post going. I try to answer asks, for example, that I can easily answer in one sitting. If I have to go back to it later, it's often too difficult to find the thread of where I once was, or get back the momentum I had going.

I never give up on finishing something, though. Some things I'll probably never finish, but others I will definitely make a go of. With the holidays here I'm hoping to have more time to focus on my blog. I guess we'll see. 😅

#personal #ask

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4acoffee · 2 years

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The Light In Your Eyes

My fancies are fireflies Specks of living light Twinkling in the dark -Rabindranath Tagore

synopsis. At a party held in Katsuki's honor for winning sports festival (again), — he finds that he doesn't quite mind being caught helping the extra with the annoyingly pretty eyes catch fireflies instead of celebrating, especially when he could see the embers in them reflecting so close to his own.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 1.4k words

genres & warnings. fluff, swearing, aged-up slightly

notes. uhhh a lil fic for what is hopefully my summer comeback. Maybe I'll finally finish those requests for this ol' boys birthday event from like a month ago and work on the pile of drafts that are slowly rotting away in the backrooms of Tumblr - _ -

Full Masterlist!

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

After winning the Sports Festival for the third year in a row, Katsuki’s classmates had insisted that they celebrate by throwing a party at his house in his honor. Despite his protests, the hag and his old man were more than happy to comply.

He really hadn’t expected that many people to show up, but now it seemed as if the entirety of his school was crammed into his house.

There were adults and students he had never met before in his life, shaking his hand and patting his back in congratulations like old friends. Even icyhot's old man had turned up, — nodding his head and muttering a gruff congratulations. Maybe he was finally making an attempt to pull that enormous garbage fire of a stick from his ass and trying to be a better person.

His classmates from 3-A had invited all their friends from other classes, and their parents had pitched in the effort too. His kitchen counter was overflowing with all sorts of snacks and desserts, and he couldn't go anywhere near the trashcan without someone materializing in front of him to drop something new on his plate.

Most of the adults were crowding the living room inside, jabbering on about the latest controversial tweet by a pro-hero, or exchanging pictures of a newborn baby from a cousin they don’t interact with outside of Facebook.

He scoffed; they might as well start a knitting circle with the amount of gossip they were dishing out.

Many of the students were out in his backyard playing music from speakers the size of his head, all littering the lawn and trampling over the perfectly green and even turf he had spent so much time meticulously growing.

Katsuki on the other hand was surrounded by his all too loud friends who were chatting away about something he couldn’t bother listening to.

The drink in his hands was nearing room temperature the longer he went on to disregard it, he was just much too busy glowering at you.

Your dumb face. On the other side of the room.

You were laughing at something some extra you knew from another class had said. Your head was thrown back, and your shoulders trembled with laughter.

Katsuki’s glare only deepened as he took in the way your hair fell in waves around your face, the long earrings on either side of your face dangling wildly as you shook.

You’ve been here since the party started and hadn’t spared him anything more than an, “Yea, I already knew you y’were gonna beat their asses”, — (which had made his chest flush with pride), — when you first arrived, before running off somewhere with your friends.

Not that he cared. Really, you're just an extra.

No matter if you made his palms get especially sweaty. Or if your skin seemed to glow in the right kind of light. Or if he wants to run his hands through your hair when it flows in the wind when you walk to the train together. Or if he can’t help but stare whenever you're in the same room as him.

Yea, — just an extra.

He pried his eyes off your form and loured into his drink. He grunted when shitty hair nudged him in the shoulder and raised an irritated eyebrow when he gestured wildly with his eyes.

Suddenly you were right in front of him, smiling and saying something he couldn’t hear over the music.

Shit

He scrunched his eyebrows, and you rolled your eyes at him. His eyes widened as you grabbed the sleeve of the button-up he was wearing and pulled him down so you could talk closer to his ear. His vision in line with your collarbone, Katsuki’s ears burned and his breath hitched in his throat.

God, What the hell did you want with him?

“Come help me catch fireflies outside!” You yelled over the noise.

He drew back and fixed you with an exasperated look, trying to stealthily steady the heavy beating of his heart.

“Fireflies?” He questioned. “Why would I help you catch fireflies?”

You rolled your eyes like it was obvious.

"Because there's a bunch of em' out there, and I don't wanna go by myself."

He looked down his nose at you and raised an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed.

"Why don't you go chase some bugs with those friends of yours instead of botherin' me hah?"

After all, you had ditched him for them in the first place.

You pouted and Katsuki resisted the urge to squish your cheeks together in his hands.

"The others are busy with the snacks, or sucking face with each other so they don't wanna come with me."

You looked up at him with such eager and hopeful eyes that he had no choice but to give in. He knew you were probably doing it on purpose too, you knew what you did to him — but he couldn't find it in him to care.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Fine, whatever, let's go nerd."

Katsuki prompted to ignore the delighted look the hag shot him from where she had obviously been listening from the couch, and the teasing glances from his friends.

He pushed past you and your annoyingly bright eyes, and headed for the yard.

He spent what seemed like almost the rest of the party outside, — at least until the sun began setting over the horizon. Casting a warm, comforting orange hue over the them

Occasionally he would point one out to you and you would dash after it to catch it mid flight. Soon you had almost all the kids outside helping you as well.

A handful of highschoolers darted around his yard giggling maniacally, and catching lightning bugs.

His scowl softened over time as he watched you prance around and twirl in your pretty long dress as you chased little flickers of light around like a kid.

You had more than a fist full of the little sparklers when someone called out your name from inside the house.

"Hey! Come help me pack the snacks!"

Katsuki saw you scowl at the interruption and yell back a reply. You spun around until your gaze landed on him and you started making your way towards him.

"What do you want now." He asked when you were right in front of him.

You didn't answer him, — but with the hand not holding the fireflies, you picked up one of his big, scarred hands and cradled it in your much smaller ones.

He watched in surprise, as soft fingers gently pried his hand open, and one by one began placing the small flashing beetles in his palm.

His eyes roamed unabashedly over your face while you worked, — taking in the way your eyebrows scrunched over eyes narrowed in concentration, and the way your lips mouthed numbers as you counted them.

Someone hollered your name from inside again and you threw her head back in annoyance. “I’m coming, give me a minute!”

Looking back, you cupped your hand over his to make sure the fireflies didn't escape and turned your big doe eyes up at him.

His heart stuttered annoyingly at the proximity, and he had to hold himself back from accidentally setting off explosions from his hands.

Surely you were doing this on purpose, Katsuki thought, as he tried not to focus on the way your skin felt on his hands, or the shadow of your lashes, thick with liner when you blinked.

From this close he could count your individual eyelashes and make out the small lights dancing around your irises from the reflections of other lightning bugs glowing around them.

His eyes flickered down to your soft, glossy lips and snapped away just as quickly, praying that you didn’t notice.

Dimming rays of sunlight weaved through your hair and soaked your skin, making you look ethereal in the soft glow of the sun.

Fuck, you were so fuckin' pretty.

“Don’t let them go, ok?” You whispered quickly.

Katsuki’s lips twitched.

You let go of his hand, and he curled his fingers over them to keep the bugs in place. He could feel the little things scurrying around in his palm.

“Be careful with them, and I’ll be right back, alright.” You told him.

He straightened and nodded resolutely.

You beamed blindingly at him, and for a moment, — All Might could have sucker punched him in the face and he wouldn't have noticed.

Turning on your heel, you took off in the direction of the house, your dress swaying around your ankles as you moved.

Deflating, he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he watched your form disappear inside.

Doing a double take, he saw his own mother staring back at him from out the window with a shit-eating grin that he knew all too well. He groaned out loud in annoyance.

She knew.

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