Boyfriend Atsumu Makes A “your Mom” Joke Once So You Say You’re Gonna Call Her Up And Tell Her

11:42 PM. KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

his first words after six months aren’t ‘can i come in?’ when he shows up to your doorstep unannounced. it thunders behind him, pouring rain with a vengeance only seen on movie screens. each strike of lightning lights flashes bright white against his features, illuminating already startling crimson eyes.

he looks like he hasn’t slept in months. ash blond hair matted to his forehead, dark circles hanging like stalactites—never have you seen him in a state like this, and it makes you want to shrink away, back into the comfort of your home.

you stay out anyway, and the cold nips at your socked feet almost playfully.

“why are you here?” your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he pauses, mouth open with a retort already dying on his tongue. what was he doing here? interrupting your peace away from his torment filled life with selfish wants?

how does he tell you that he hasn’t had a good night’s rest since that massive argument six months ago? that he shouldn’t have nitpicked and snapped at you because his mission failing wasn’t your fault—you were just there and suffered the brunt of his anger in your attempt to help.

how does he tell you his misses the way your hands would run through his hair, slow and practiced, as the dust and dirt from the day’s work washes down the drain? that he misses your silly songs made up from a tune he’d gotten stuck in his head, and that he can’t bear to clean up because the very thought of doing the most mundane things without you sends an unfathomable amount of ache to his chest?

that he misses having the weight of you, skin against skin, at night, where he could be just katsuki?

he can’t say any that. he can’t do that to you. you look well—better, even, after six months. your voice is soft when you ask, not even the slightest bit of hatred present at all, and he almost wants to disappear. regret courses through his veins, but he can’t find it within himself to move.

slowly, his gaze meets your once more, hands shoved into his pockets, and he lays out the barest contents of his heart then.

“i didn’t know where else to go.”

reblog are appreciated ☕️ thank you for reading!

✿ so whipped for you

bf! Atsumu x reader

warnings: none

crush!atsumu who has a big fat crush on you

crush!atsumu who’s fascinated by the way you talk back to him

crush!atsumu who’s hands are sweating when deciding to ask you out

crush!atsumu who, despite his good looks, is humble to the people around him

crush!atsumu who is competitive in nature and will quite literally fight anyone that wants you

crush!atsumu who peeks at you in class, thinking he’s slick

crush!atsumu who accepts the fact that he’s a simp for you

crush!atsumu who smiles like a lovesick fool when you laugh at his jokes

crush!atsumu who purposely misses morning practices just to catch a glimpse of you in the hallways

crush!atsumu who feels jealousy prickling at his soul when a guy has the audacity to ask you out

crush!atsumu who smirks when you shyly reject every man that comes your way. “atta girl” he thinks to himself

crush!atsumu who hands you his jacket when he notices you forgot to bring yours

crush!atsumu who forces his brother to make tuna onigiri just so he can bring them to you and brag to you about how much of a good cook he is when in reality his brother does all the work

crush!atsumu who will disrupt the class just to watch you laugh

crush!atsumu who attempts to make chocolate for you. they don’t..look the best but somehow end up tasting delicious

crush!atsumu who never seems to shut up about you and he’s made it so obvious that he’s in love with you

crush!atsumu who sees a future with you despite being so young.

crush!atsumu who leaves flowers on your desk with a note that says “pretty flowers for a pretty human being” he thinks he’s sly but his handwriting gives it away

crush!atsumu who will fight the world if anyone every dares to make you sad

crush!atsumu who will wipe your tears and kiss your forehead if he sees you sobbing. manz will cry with you ok.

crush!atsumu who gently wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you to his warm chest. whispering a soft ‘I’m so in love with you’

crush!atsumu who’s just so whipped for you

I’d do anything just to experience a high school love with atsumu >>>>

{ M.list }

reblogs are appreciated!

©️ all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize my work.

Onigiri Miya’s most popular delivery boy! He only works part-time though rip

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。08:00 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

idk i just felt like. writing haitham grieving his grandmother. it’s also a slight character study ig. idk if anyone will read this but if you do. just know that he is the core of my heart. his grandmother too i mourn her death so much sobs

“hey,” you say gently, sitting next to him. al-haitham only grunts in acknowledgment, slumped on the couch. “d’you want dinner? i made your favorite.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

his grandmother’s death anniversary is a sore spot. it’s a day you tiptoe around carefully every year. you don’t know much about his family—just that he was orphaned very young and raised by his father’s mother until the ripe age of 16. you’ve seen the dainty handwriting inside the covers of books, and you’ve even seen a small, framed photograph that he keeps stowed away.

sometimes, you wish he’d tell you. you wish the far away look and the clenched fist around the fabric of his pants would ease with your presence. you wish he’d tell you about her, that you’d know the woman who raised the man you love—even if only through hushed words and old stories.

“you hate sleeping on an empty stomach,” you hum, placing your hand over his clenched one.

his fist loosens a little—progress.

“i…” he pauses, let’s out a heavy sigh before letting his head fall back. there’s tension in his shoulders, in his neck, in the jaw he keeps so tightly clenched. “i won’t be sleeping for a bit. sorry,” he tries to sound apologetic. you don’t hear much in his tone besides defeat. “you can head in without me.”

“that’s okay,” you shrug, forcing his clenched fingers apart to weave yours in with his. “i don’t sleep well without you anyway.”

“suit yourself,” is all he says.

and it’s silent for a bit. he seems to be thinking deeply—or reminiscing, maybe grieving. maybe all three, but you’re not too sure. you’re never too sure when it comes to how al-haitham feels about anything.

he’s hard to decipher—but he’s easy to pull apart. you don’t understand how someone as hard and calculating as him is so gentle with love, but it’s hard not to notice how soft his touch is, how it lingers, how the tips of his fingers long for you. you don’t doubt he loves you—he never gives you the chance to.

but sometimes….sometimes you wish he’d let you love him properly. to kiss the scars. to admire the parts he thinks are ugly. to shelter the thoughts that have no home besides his own head.

it’s silent for a bit—until it’s not. you break the silence first, like you’re holding a hand out for him from the shore as he drifts aimlessly.

“baby?” you ask quietly. he grunts again in response. “what was she like?”

“who?”

al-haitham is a smart man. probably the smartest you’ve ever met. you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who read physics books as a pastime, and you’re pretty certain he’ll always be the only one. you know he knows exactly what you’re asking and you know he’s avoiding it.

but it doesn’t stop you though—it’s been long enough, you think. you’ve known him long enough. craved him for a few summers and loved him for enough winters that he has pieces of you that fall through the cracks of your resolve.

you think you deserve a few pieces of him too—even if your fingers have to reach past the cracks themselves, even if they have to slice against the jagged edges and bleed a little in the process.

you’ll bleed for him—like the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, your heart beats for al-haitham. and it’ll bleed for him too.

“your grandmother,” you whisper. “you’ve never told me about her.”

“there’s not much to tell,” he shrugs. “she died right before i enrolled in the akademiya and she raised me after my parents died.”

“i’m sure there’s more,” you say gently—his grip has tightened on your hand now. you don’t think he realizes—in fact, you don’t think al-haitham realizes half of what he feels when it comes to vulnerability.

it’s why he realizes he loves you so late. it’s why you fall first and he falls after. but he falls harder—it’s not hard to see.

“she was a kshahrewar scholar,” he offers blankly.

your thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it’s almost like your hand reaches past the shore just a little further—you don’t mind risking the fall into the water if it means pulling him out.

“haitham,” you sigh delicately. he swallows. it’s hard to keep composure for long—even for someone like him.

grief is an evil thing. it’s a familiar friend—one you wish you never made and one you’ll never shake away. it dances with you under the moonlight, when the stars are bright but the sky is heavy. it barely grazes your skin some days but weighs into your bones on others. it’s a cruel thing really—and it hits you harder some moments than others.

“she was kind,” he starts slowly, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours over the shoreline. maybe, just maybe, sometimes he can get tired of drifting too. “she liked to bake. her hands got too weak to knead dough when i got older, though. you would have liked her tarts. she couldn’t read without her glasses and she always forgot they were on her head. she said my father looked like her husband and that i look like my father. she used to ask me to read to her sometimes so i’d sit on her lap and read my books out loud. she loved the sunrise but was never good at waking up on time to see it. she used to drink tea during sunsets. she liked hers extra sweet and i liked mine more bitter. i…” he pauses, voice shaky as his fingers dig into your hand. you squeeze, and he sniffles. “i haven’t had tea since she passed.”

“she sounds lovely,” you whisper. “i would have loved to meet her.”

“she’d have loved you,” he cracks a small smile, shaking his head as he thinks. “probably more than she loved me.”

“i’m sure i’d never compare to her darling grandson,” you chuckle, bumping arms with him. his head drops to your shoulder—you hesitate for a moment before deciding to pull him into your chest. and when he doesn’t protest, when he buries himself into you instead of pulling away, you thread your fingers into his hair.

“i miss her,” he croaks quietly.

“i know,” you soothe. “i know, baby.”

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life. one is gone but it lives through the other. the gentle touch against his scalp and the warmth under his cheek is familiar—it feels like the lap he slept on when he was six. it feels like the delicate hands that cupped his cheeks when he was eight. it feels like the soft kisses against his temple when he was ten.

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life, and he’s glad that one of them is you.

“you’d have loved her too,” his voice breaks. you kiss his head as you feel your shirt dampen.

“i already do,” you murmur, “she raised you well. i have her to thank.”

his breath hitches at that—and then he pulls you closer, grasps you tighter, falls in love with you harder. his grandmother’s death anniversary has always been a sore spot—but somehow, you numb the ache even if by just a little.

gently, your hand clasps his and pulls him to shore. he’s grateful he doesn’t have to drift alone anymore.

there is nothing i’m more obsessed with than al-haitham’s childhood. i have so many thought about it. and him. and his character. and his inner thoughts and feelings and most of them revolve around his grandmother and more importantly her passing. and idk. he’s just sosososo important to me i wish we knew more about his grandmother. i love her so much i grieve her passing even though we’ve never even met her 😭

atsumu had been quite good at keeping his morale up, one way or another he lifted himself up from the lowest of lows and kept going. he had always wanted to be the backbone of the relationship.

but recently he really didn’t feel up to it… sometimes things just get, well… overwhelming.

practice after practice… day in day out… things were in a constant loop?

things that people comment online, the constant pressure to be outstandingly good in every  match. he couldn’t handle it, being in the limelight was always appealing to him.

the fans, the chanting of his name as he walks out onto the court.

but sometimes even stars need a little break…

crying in the club’s locker room was never top of the to do list for ‘tsumu that day, but after a particularly demanding day with a painful defeat to top it all off, he couldn’t help but let himself go,

he was never a pretty crier.. his nose always went runny and the tips of his ear and his nose turned a bright red… 

hearing the club door open he composed himself a little. when you walked in your soft voice and words of comfort made his heart swell with love.. how did he deserve you? he asked himself that everyday.

nestling his head into your neck he pulled you down onto his lap, he re-assured you that he was completely fine, with you kissing his tears away, your soft breath lapping over his eye lids.

having tough days may be horrible but you and your words of encouragement were always there for him to bring him up when he couldn’t himself. 

pt. 1 | pls i had to continue it

word count: 2.2k

cw: angst, so much angst. with a happy ending though

It seemed impossible to just forget. Forget about the warmth you felt when Kuroo would glance over his shoulder to check on you when you were out in a group and he was walking ahead with some of his friends. Forget about the speeding heart rate when he’d put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he teased you or pointed at some building you used to get dinner at in your sophomore year.

You tried to fill your mind with distractions anyway and forced yourself to stop replying to his messages as soon as you saw them. But it hurt. Pushing him away like that, seeing his profile picture pop up less often in your notifications as he seemed to get the hint, understand that you needed space.

Your chest tightened and ached when he asked you how you were holding up, his picture grinning up at you mischievously, which you had always found so damn cute. You were smiling back at it without realizing and chastising yourself when you did notice.

Kuroo changed his profile picture then, his face no longer there and you felt your stomach drop at that. It stung in particular when a new message popped up in your notifications that read, ‘wanna talk to me?’

You knew it had been a matter of time before he wanted answers from you, an explanation for the cold shoulder you were giving him. Thinking your attempt to get over him might’ve been obvious.

“There you are.”

He looked different, worn out somehow. It was the first thing you noticed when you approached him in the cold evening air, his back resting against his car as he pocketed his phone without another glance at it.

Slight dark circles were beginning to show underneath his eyes and the thick, black strands of his hair were pointing at various directions, all messy and disheveled—just like in your freshman year when he didn’t even bother to get rid of his ridiculous bedhead yet. A wave of nostalgia flooded right through you at the sight.

“I was starting to think you hated me.”

Kuroo smiled at you, a little shy and uneasy and you couldn’t blame him. It was you who had started to reach out less, after all. Like you were mad at him. That stupid crush you had was your problem, yet you only hurt him in the process of getting over it.

What a friend you were, best friend no less. You were a fraud.

“No one could ever hate you.” And you meant it. He was a good person, caring and loving, albeit a bit annoying. Yet that ambitious, honest side of him was admirable and attractive, automatically causing you forgive him for teasing you so often.

“Eh,” Kuroo shrugged and a more genuine grin eased into his face. It relaxed you, corner of your lips pulling up as your chest began to feel lighter, warmer.

Gosh, you’d missed him so much.

He seemed to share your thoughts because he reached for you with an arm, nodding you over with that smirk of his that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“Get over here then.”

Why wouldn’t you? He was your best friend, after all. The person you were closest to, who you trusted the most.

You let yourself get pulled into an embrace with a choked laugh, and relief and guilt washed over you simultaneously. He held you close, arms wrapped around your shoulders and chin resting atop your head—like he always did when you needed comforting.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on now?” Kuroo tried to seem nonchalant in the way he asked, looking up at the steadily darkening sky, but you knew him well enough to assume he was feeling as nervous as you were. Maybe even scared of the things you’d say. You were, anyway.

You didn’t even know what you could say. Hadn’t you tried to save your friendship by working on getting rid of your feelings for him? Didn’t he already know after what happened last time you were out at night?

“Don’t you already know?” You grumbled out loud then and felt him huff in amusement.

“Dummy,” he grinned and loosened his grip on you, allowing you to step away from him with downcast eyes. “How am I supposed to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours if you won’t talk to me?”

Oh.

No, don’t say things like that so casually.

Your chest tightened and you began to feel that familiar lump form in your throat.

“I can’t just say it, though,” you breathed, fogging up the air as you crossed your arms, starting to feel the cold creep into your skin. “It’ll change everything.”

Kuroo didn’t respond right away, merely let out a breath and turned to lean against his car again. He folded his arms over the roof, chin rested on the crook of his arm. The erratic throb of your heart made it difficult to meet his hazel eyes that were undoubtedly peering up at you.

“Is change really that bad?”

—hm?

“Yes it is,” you retorted, risking a glance at him with furrowed eyebrows. “It’s scary.”

But he merely shrugged, playful smirk forming on his lips as if to say, ‘so what?’ It felt natural to fight the urge to bump your fist into his side because he was starting to get smart with you.

“Haven’t things changed already?”

You turned around with a huff and mimicked the way he leaned over his car. It was easy to ignore the way your elbows touched in the process and you forced yourself to hold his gaze this time. Careful anticipation evident in it.

Were you able to express the very same thoughts and feelings you had been trying to get rid of the last few weeks? As a sigh eased out of you, you realized that maybe you weren’t and the wild hammering of your heart didn’t help you in any way. But Kuroo just smiled at you, encouraging and gentle. He would never pressure you to just come out with it.

“I’ve been trying to get over someone,” you whispered then, averting your eyes after all. You became hyper aware of the pounding in your chest and felt like hiding your face in your folded arms but he stopped you. His hand reached out to you, fingers grasping your arm and your eyes flitted to his.

“Someone..?”

“You,” you breathed, and there it was. A half-assed confession because you were tired of feeling this way, like your lives had come to a halt because of these dumb feelings. You knew they weren’t reciprocated, not with him continuously trying to set you up with all kinds of people, finding entertainment in the way you’d get flustered around them. ..when it was really him that had made you react like that.

Kuroo didn’t say anything for a while and his gaze had lowered to your arms, to the spot he was grasping you loosely. There was a slight crease between his brows and you felt your blood drain from your face at the sight. You knew it.

“You know,” he began suddenly, as if sensing that you were about to shut off, “I had a feeling that it was something like that.”

Your mind was spinning. Something like that. It was no use, you had to mentally prepare yourself to not seem too bothered when he’d tell you he didn’t see you like that. That you were just a friend to him, however dear.

“And it got me thinking.” Kuroo paused, and you held your breath.

His eyes settled on you once more as a gentle smile rested on his lips and you felt your mouth go dry, heartbeat uncontrollable in your chest.

“I realized that I’d get real sad if you kept pushing me away.”

“But you don’t see me that way,” you finished for him, a bit hastily, eyes lowered on his smile, throat tightening with another lump as you nodded. “Got it.”

Of course he didn’t. He was good to you, caring and attentive, as a good friend should be. But that didn’t mean he owed you anything beyond that. Which is why you didn’t want to pursue it, knowing that it was hopeless either way.

Why ruin a good friendship over some stupid feelings?

“Uh no, that’s.. not true.”

His face was out of focus when you looked up at him, tears clouding your sight as you stared, incomprehension apparent. Because.. what the hell?

Kuroo instinctively moved closer at the sight of your watering eyes and his hand on your arm twitched, wanting to reach up but he held back.

“You’re so damn confusing,” you half laughed, half sniffled, shaking your head. Your fingers felt cold against your skin as you wiped the tears away, still trying to comprehend what he’d said. “If you tell me you feel the same I’m gonna kick you.”

Obviously, you were joking. But then you noticed Kuroo cocking an eyebrow, accompanying the smile that made him just so.. annoyingly irresistible.

He couldn’t possibly..

“What if I showed you, then?”

He couldn’t.. right?

You didn’t move away when he inched closer slowly, your heart thrumming intensely against your rib cage. He raised a hand to brush his knuckles over the skin of your cheek, a delicate touch, fingers grasping and reaching forward to get a gentle hold of the back of your head.

“I often thought about doing this,” he breathed, your foreheads nearly touching, “whenever it was just us and you’d look at me like that.” His gaze was locked onto your lips, trailing the curve of them with the thumb of his other hand, your breath hot against his fingers.

“Why have you never—?”

“Was overthinking,” he tapped your forehead with his index finger, “just like you.”

He was kidding, right?

Though the way he gently tipped your head back to meet him in a soft kiss told you otherwise. It felt unreal, your nerves blanking as you grasped his jacket, fingers clutching the fabric desperately.

There was a small noise at the back of your throat when he moved his lips against yours with purpose, savoring you. You could barely feel your legs, your own weight suddenly too much. Gasps leaving your mouth as his hand guided your face closer to him, feeling his breath hot on your skin when his other arm wrapped around your waist to hold you tight, keep you from just slumping down.

You still couldn’t believe it. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning, your breath hitching. Leaning every emotion you got into the kiss you didn’t feel the tears until your lungs squeezed out a sob, surprising the both of you.

Kuroo separated from you in an instant, confusion and worry clear in his expression, looking like you had actually kicked him. But you threw your arms around his neck before he could say anything.

“Wha—” You hugged him tightly then and buried your face into the crook of his neck with another sob you couldn’t help.

“I’m so happy,” you exhaled. But your inner self was in disarray—happiness, relief, confusion mixing together. His touch was comforting and you felt yourself relax as one arm reached around your form to hug you back, hold you close. It didn’t feel so strange, as if it was always meant to be like this. To simply hold you and wait for you to release all those emotions you had bottled up for who knows how long.

Kuroo had been scared of change as well, truth be told. That tiny voice in his head had warned him from following his instincts whenever he held you close, with you staring up at him like nothing else mattered. No one else. The voice telling him not to ruin this connection he felt with you. It could end so badly, after all. The two of you could end up like his parents, and he would end up losing you—you, sweet you.

When you started to detach yourself from him, it felt scarily real.

He didn’t like not having you around, even if just temporarily. Didn’t like not being part of your life when another difficulty plagued your mind, because he wanted to be there for you, just as you’d always been there for him.

Being with you, really being with you, wasn’t guaranteed to be easy but it’s all he’d subconsciously thought about the last few years with you. Whenever he invited you to go on trips with him or when you tagged along to Kenma’s and he’d watch you interact with him. Making him think that he needed to keep you around.

“Wanna come inside? It’s cold out here.”

You peeked up at him like that again, and he felt his heart swell up at the expression on your face. Teary eyed and sniffling, but smile stretching your lips like he hadn’t seen in weeks. It made him giddy and excited and in order to not grin too much he slipped a hand underneath your shirt, pinching your skin teasingly.

“Yeah.”

@ sakuroo. please do not modify, copy, repost or claim as your own. ꒰ reblogs appreciated! ꒱

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓

## ft. akaashi keiji, kita shinsuke, suna rintaro, hajime iwaizumi

## a/n. i saw one angst where y/n talked too much and my heart broke sO NOW ITS TIME FOR COMFORT!! (if u know who is the op, pls send an ask to me so i can cred them for inspo!)

## warning(s). use of “princess”

[masterlist]

AKAASHI KEIJI is quite wary of details, as the meticulous person he is. it is no surprise that he was able to immediately pick up on your quiet demeanour. “what’s wrong, angel?” he cupped your face, smoothing his thumb along the ridge of your cheekbone. once akaashi noticed that there was something bothering you, he would never let it slip past so there was really no point in trying to diss him. the tender love that coated his words coaxed you to let yourself be vulnerable around him, and that it was okay to be vulnerable around him because akaashi would always try to understand. no matter what, he would always lend a listening ear to his angel whenever they need him. when he comforts you with a hug and reassuring words, you would smile against his chest because your keiji will always understand.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI felt a switch flip in him when he noticed how distant your eyes were. he hates that there was a reason that made your eyes furrow in frustration the entire the day and he hates that there was something hurting you so bad that you didn’t want to trouble anybody else. taking long strides towards you, he locked his strong arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “who hurt you?” his seriousness made a smile crack on your face and for a moment, your worries slipped to the back of your mind. you tried telling him that it is okay and that it is nothing much, it even went up to the point where you had to slap his back for him to let you go but he was unrelenting in his grasp. “i would go to the moon and back for you, princess. so please, just tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”

SUNA RINTARO stared at your back that was facing him. suna himself is a quiet person but he just finds it so worrying that the only two words you have uttered today was ‘yes’ and ‘no’. judging from your steady breathing, you were close to sleeping. his finger hesitantly reached out to your shoulder, tapping it lightly. instead of saying anything when you turned around, he leant forward, placing his forehead against yours. your faces were held so close, hot breaths mingling together, waiting for the other to speak. “you…you know, you can tell me anything right, y/n?” suna muttered against your lips and he felt the weight on his chest evaporate when you nodded slowly. chuckling, he lightly pressed a kiss against your lips. “alright, then let’s go to sleep and you can tell me whenever you want to hmm?”

KITA SHINSUKE would slide a bowl of fruits over to you, hauling a chair over to take his place by your side. without a word, he would just take your head in his hand, pulling it to his shoulder for you to rest your head on. it was a simple gesture but it told many words that kita wishes to tell you but won’t because he understands your space. it was telling you that everything will be okay and that he will be here whenever you need him. and when you breakdown, he just lets you speak because he rather you be vocal about your troubles than bottling it all up inside you.

i’ve become the villain’s lover!

summary: You have the worst luck in the entire world to be transmigrated into a novel as some faceless side character, where the most notorious villains in the story won’t leave you alone. (ft. Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus).

notes: 12k words, scenario, fluff, mentions of violence, reader gets injured once, heavily based on my love of cheesy isekai/reincarnation/villainess manhwa 

All of your problems started with the book your friend lent you.

You didn’t even want to read it at first, but you took the copy because she wouldn’t stop pestering you and spamming you with texts. The title—I’ve Become the Villain’s Lover!—was embossed gold, and the cover picture had seven beautiful men lounging around a woman with brown hair, the woman gazing wistfully into the distance. In short, it was so cheesy it sent chills down your back.

You really weren’t going to read it. But that summer night was hot and humid and you had nothing better to do than stare at the television and stir around your half-melted ice cream. So when you saw the book on the edge of the kitchen counter, you thought, why not? and opened it up.

If it was bad, you would stop after a few pages. But the television kept droning on as you read, and your forgotten ice cream was now melted slush in its bowl, and soon you were halfway through the story.

The premise itself was simple enough: the heroine, Hera Winn, was the treasured daughter of a down on his luck baron. He sent her to the city to make her debut, and after a series of mishaps, she ended up running into the crown prince, Malleus Draconia, who fell in love at first sight. However, the crown prince was feared by his subjects, and rumors swirled around about his fearsome power and his family. To make matters worse, six other men fall in love with Hera. The cherry on top? All seven men were notorious villains, feared by people far and wide for their cruelty.

You were still a few chapters away from the ending when your eyes started drooping; it was impossible to keep them open, even though you were dying to text your friend. It was deliciously bad, in an over-the-top and campy way, and you appreciated how self-indulgent the author was. Seriously, why would seven villains even fall for an ordinary person? It was way too contrived.

Whatever. You could call her tomorrow.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, you found yourself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Oh no. No way. This wasn’t what you thought it was, was it?

Conveniently, there was a hand mirror next to you, and when you stared into the frame, the face of a stranger stared back at you.

Your worst fears had come true. You’d transmigrated into I’ve Become the Villain’s Lover!

Shit. You were never going to read another book in your life.

Keep reading

ejp !! (and iizuna)

bakugo katsuki was exhausted. scorch marks were smeared against his skin and complimented by a litter of scratches and cuts. the trip home was quiet, the usual buzz of the city nightlife faint in his ringing ears. all his senses were dulled and numb, but as soon as you came into view and your fingertips grazed his cheek, they all suddenly came into razor focus.

he inhaled the smell of your familiar body wash, stared right into those big beautiful eyes of yours, and sagged at the touch of your sweet hands cupping his face– gave into it and nearly collapsed. but you held him up.

silently you brought him inside, and sat him down on the couch so you could treat his wounds and bruises. you pressed a delicate kiss to his temple before going to get the first aid kit. you come back to kneel beside him, and begin the practiced routine of cleaning and bandaging his wounds. his throat was thick as he watched you work, and some thorny thing wrapped around his heart and tightened, digging into his gummy flesh as he watches how practiced and fluent your movements have become from the amount of times he’s come back home slashed and torn, always having to fix him back up again and again and again-

“tomorrow.” he chokes out, his hand reaching out to rest on your cheek. “we can finish this tomorrow. i just want to sleep.” your lips open for moment, but then purse in defeat and you nod silently, heaving his arm over your shoulder to carry some of his weight as you make your way to your shared bedroom.

hairline fractures in his soul grew deeper and deeper with each struggled step, each thump of his dragging feet, each laboured breath. but each time you press a kiss to him and your gentle hands glide over his blackened skin, he could feel each one mend itself one by one.