Jungkook Is So 'pillow Talk' By Zayn Coded

Date Nights with Bakugo Katsuki

Cooking - From the Date Night Series - requested by @briqnne

1.

“Oh my god, who taught you how to cut onions? Even my blind granny could do it better than that!” Bakugo groans, staring at the mauled onion in front of you. He opens his mouth to add insult to injury when he notices the quiver of your lips.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “That’s the onion. It wants revenge.”

Despite your brave face and stupid joke, he knows instantly that he fucked up.

He should have known that dating him of all people had been a stupid idea on your part. Maybe this is how you realize.

You sniffle once more, dealing the final blow to the dying onion before stepping back. “I’m sorry Katsuki. I lied to you. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

He sighs. “I shouldn’t have said something so mean either.”

“Oi,” you slap his cheek softly. “Don’t get soft on me now! That’s even worse.”

“I wasn’t getting soft!” He barks, his heart jumping when you giggle. Maybe not all is lost.

“I-” He looks down at the onion before grabbing another one from the pantry. “Here,” he takes your hands and guides you. “Careful, I don’t want any missing fingers.”

“Imagine, me with Shoji’s Quirk. That would be useful.”

“I don’t want any fingers in my food either,” Bakugo snarls lowly into your ear, grinning when you giggle once more.

You’re not the most graceful on the knives, he learns and you need a few rounds of instructions until you figure out how to properly peel the potatoes, but he finds himself calmer with each passing minute.

It doesn’t matter how long it will take them to finish this meal. It’s just for the two of you, anyway. And he’d rather hear your giggling than watch you stare silently into the meal he’s created on his own.

At least he thinks that until you ooh and aah after the first bite, glowing with pride that you helped create this “masterpiece”, as you call it.

“It’s just curry,” he wants to say, though he swallows it down at the sight of your happiness.

“What are we going to make next time?” You ask and he chokes on his bite, your tender look a little too much for his fragile heart.

Next time. There will be a next time.

-

2.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Katsuki grouses from the doorway, relishing in the nervous uptick of your shoulders.

“Nothing,” you mutter, doing your best to hide the freshly made batter.

“Cooking without me?” He steps closer, shoulders squared in the hopes of scaring you away from the stove. 

Though, you just giggle at his antics, snatching the bowl out of his reach.

“I was just prepping dessert,” you promise. “Nothing much.”

“And the potatoes?”

“I just peeled them,” you bat your eyelashes at him, all innocence. “I always peel the potatoes.”

“Sure,” he huffs. “But I like watching you do it.”

Your lips quirk into a smile as you stand there, five feet apart, a bowl pressed to your chest like you’re defending your firstborn from a dragon. “Controlling much?” You tease him, though he knows you know it’s not like that.

“You look really cute when you do it,” he admits, mainly because it lights a fire in your eyes when he does. “Poking your tongue out and all.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“The cutest,” he agrees, reaching for the bowl again. “Now, let me help? Please?”

“Fine,” you hand the bowl over. “All we need is to pour it. You can do that, oh Great Cookiemonster Dynamight.”

He snarls at that, though it’s mostly for show as he dips down to kiss you instead, swiping a finger through the batter on the way back to the stove. 

“What’s the verdict?”

“Nine out of ten.”

“Nine?” You slap his ass with the kitchen towel. “Please, that was a solid ten!”

Katsuki turns, eyeing you carefully. “No. You’re a nine and I’m the one you need.”

Percy waking up with no memories but that he hates a bitch named Ares and that he’s wifed up

wow. thanks. this ruined my year.

just in case // katsuki bakugou

emergency contacts were something you never considered important, you knew if anything had happened you’d tell them to call your significant other, but for some odd reason katsuki threw a tantrum until you added his number to your emergency contacts and added him as a legacy contact, allowing him to access your data if you ever died. 

just in case. 

you didn’t remove him, even after the breakup. you laid on your side, nuzzling into the covers with your phone in one hand as you reviewed your details, updating the necessary information. you finally reached it. his name with an orange heart next to it. you didn’t bother changing his contact name or deleting it too, it felt like a waste of time. you placed your phone onto pillow next to yours, the very same pillow katsuki once fell asleep on. 

you’d be a formidable liar if you ever said you didn’t miss waking up next to him, as the soft hues of daylight shone onto his soft skin, his blonde hair gleaming with life, as you placed a kiss on his forehead. the memory lulling you into a deep sleep. 

you woke up in ice cold sheets, no form of body heat from the empty space next to you, no snoring, just quiet.

following the cycle you did every single day, shower, go to work, get into your car and drive back home. 

“good evening, this is Jaku General Hospital, am i speaking to Katsuki Bakugou?” 

“yes you are.” 

“i regret to inform you that [y/n] [l/n] has sadly passed away, we decided that we should call you first since you were part of her emergency contacts, may i ask what is your relationship with the deceased?” 

katsuki felt his grip on his phone slip, finally clenching it harder, “boyfriend.” 

“do you remember the key to access her details, you’re the only individual she has added to her legacy contacts list” 

how could he forget it, he made you do it after all. 

“hello? sir? are you there?” katsuki placed the phone down as incoherent words exuded his phone, he could still remember the day he pressurised you into adding him onto your emergency contacts list, you were persistent in ignoring such fimble things, yet katsuki didn’t give up. 

receiving your belongings in a small tray, he picked up your phone, your lockscreen displayed a picture you took with him when you two first started dating, you looked so different. you looked happy. 

“passcodes still my birthday huh?” 

LORD WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!

katsuki bakugo’s love language is definitely acts of service. he’s not the best at expressing his feelings — usually blurting out the wrong thing or saying the complete opposite of how he actually feels. so instead, he puts his heart into the things he does for you, rather than what he says.

it’s usually the little things. like doing your laundry before you even notice the pile building up. packing your lunch when you’re running late (which is often), scribbling a snarky note on the lid like, “eat all of it. don’t be stupid.” massaging your sore spots after a long day of training, grumbling under his breath about how you “need to take care of yourself.”

somehow, he remembers everything you say, even if you only mentioned it once. he was like your own personal to-do list in human form.

the trash needed to be taken out? it was gone before you could even stand up. cleaning your room? done quietly while you were in the shower. needed to study for an exam? he had your notes ready and made you sit with him, just so he could make sure your focused. your favorite lip gloss went missing? there were three new ones waiting on your desk, the exact shade, like it was no big deal.

but he never brings any of it up himself. so when you catch on and finally realize how much he does for you without ever asking for credit, you throw your arms around him in a hug full of thank yous and messy kisses.

he rolls his eyes and grumbles, “yea, s’whatever.”

however, you see the way his ears turn red and how he tries holding back his grin. and although he’d never say it out loud, you knew. he loved you more than anything. and this was his quiet, steady way of showing, and saying it, every day.

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katsuki with reader who has an rbf and scares eijiro

you stood across the room from katsuki, listening to ochaco rant about izuku, who was undeniably in love with her as well. you glanced at your boyfriend and tilted your head, wondering why he hadn’t come over to you in a while. you then switched to his red-headed friend, eijiro, who was sweating and averted his gaze as soon as your eyes landed on his.

you frowned. did eijiro seriously hate you? he always seemed so distressed around you, so nervous, so aware, so unsafe. but you forced yourself to stare at ochaco and nod along with her words, although you were still worrying about what katsuki’s best friend thought of you.

“dude, your girlfriend looks… scary. it’s like whenever i look at her, she wants to kill me! kind of like how you look at me but worse—”eijiro ranted to katsuki, who was next to him in the classroom.

he quickly cut his friend off, “shut the hell up and don’t talk about her that way. you’re lucky i don’t blast you out of that window right now.” your boyfriend glared at him, fully meaning his words. he continued, “say some shit about her like that again and i’ll beat your ass without a second thought.”

but before eijiro could respond, the bell rang, and class ended. most of the students returned to their dorms for various reasons including to study, hang out with their friends, or rest. others, including you, went outside to a nearby bakery to buy some sweets for yourself, the girls, katsuki, and eijiro. hopefully, after this, he wouldn’t think you’re just some mean girl who his best friend is dating. you really wanted to make a good impression on your boyfriend’s friends.

meanwhile, katsuki and the redhead were playing video games in eijiro’s room. suddenly, katsuki got a text from you, asking where he was. he quickly put down the controller, with complaints from eijiro, and texted you back. a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

the redhead tilted his head and paused the game, then stood up from the floor and opened the door. his eyes widened when he saw you were standing there with two containers of cake. shit, was he staring too long in the classroom? were you there to beat him up for even glancing at you?

you interrupted his thoughts when you stated, “here, for you and katsuki,” then reached your hands out to give him the cake containers. red velvet, his favorite, and spice cake, your boyfriend’s favorite. you continued, “i felt bad when you looked so nervous in the classroom. you always look so…” you thought for a moment and looked up, “distressed when you’re around me. i hope i’m not scary or anything.”

he took the containers out of your hand and gave you a sweet smile, “how ‘bout you come in? your boyfriend’s been talking about you this whole time.” he wiggled his eyebrows, earning a yell and mini-explosion to his back, making him grunt. he moved aside for you to walk in after you thanked him, and quickly traveled over to the blonde, whose neck you grabbed to give a plush kiss on his lips.

katsuki smirked and spoke for eijiro, “he’s intimidated by you because of your resting face.”

you ‘ohh’d and nodded, then looked at eijiro as he sat down next to you. you replied and grinned, “don’t feel scared of me, whenever i look irritated, i’m normally not. feel free to come talk to me anytime, don’t be shy!”

after what you said, eijiro and katsuki’s minds both began to clear up. katsuki was frustrated because of what his best friend said about you, and how you most likely thought he hated you. meanwhile, it was the opposite for his best friend, who thought you hated him.

so you and the redhead talked for hours, with him and katsuki playing videogames as you lay your legs across your boyfriend’s. he randomly pulled your ankle closer to him, causing you to nearly sit on his lap. he began to grumble whenever his friend talked, then you and eijiro both finally realized.

the redhead showed his sharp teeth with a smile, “you jealous, dude? if you want to talk with your girl alone, i don’t mind.”

he mumbled at his friend’s teasing, who eyed him with a certain look, “there’s no reason for me to be jealous—“

you grinned, “aww, kats, you’re adorable when you’re jealous!”

“shut up,” he mumbled but pulled you closer, gaining a laugh out of you and his friend. the three of you began to converse and play the game together, but all katsuki could think about was how well you and eijiro got along. he was glad, as all of your worries dissipated into thin air as soon as all of you talked, and you ate your cake together until you passed out from exhaustion.

hi guys! tysm for 800 followers. i’m taking katsuki and eijiro reqs, sorry if this seems more eijiro x reader than katsuki x reader

papa?

picking up your husband iwaizumi hajime after his days work at the gym is over with your baby wrapped up on your chest. something had gone wrong with his car, resulting in it currently at the repair shop being fixed. this left you and your one year old son in charge of pick up duty. you slide open the door and step into the vast gymnasium of japan’s national men’s volleyball team, greeted with the sound of shoes squeaking on freshly polished hardwood floor and the smack of volleyballs being spiked over the net. sitting on a bench off to the side of the court is hajime, writing some type of report in a notebook with a focused expression. you walk along the sidelines to him, holding your baby’s head to shield him from any unsuspected volleyballs that may fly your way.

hajime only looks up from his work as you seat yourself next to him, typical. he’s always so focused and invested in his job. only during his work hours is he like this, though—he always makes time for his two favorite people.

hajime smiles at you and places a kiss to your temple in greeting, putting his notebook and pen off to the side before shifting in his seat to face you more directly. “hey. didn’t realize you were here.”

“must’ve lost track of time again, right?”

“as usual,” he admits a bit sheepishly, “i really need to finish filling out this sheet of supply orders for next month.”

“hmph. you have that nice smart watch but you hardly ever pay attention to when you need to clock out of work,” you gesture to the sleek black band on his wrist as you speak.

“sorry, love i—” his words are cut off by the babbling of your son, who’s stubby arms are reaching for his papa. he looks up at his dad with wide and admiring eyes, dawning the same tan skin as his father and the same deep brown color in his wispy head of hair and irises. there’s not a doubt in sight that he’s hajime’s child; he’s practically the spitting image of him.

you two can’t help but chuckle at his efforts to cling to his dad, his movements restricted by the wrap holding him close against your chest. “you wanna give papa a hug?” you coo.

the restraint doesn’t give in, and your son looks up at you with an adorably frustrated face of confusion and surprise at the spectacle. “you can’t get anywhere in this wrap, huh?” you say as you gently pull him out of the restraint, handing him off to hajime.

once your son is in hajime’s arms, it’s within an instant that he wraps his small and chubby arms around his neck. hajime holds him securely against his chest, an affectionate laugh escaping his lips at the way his baby boy looks up at him with such adoring eyes. “looks like you really missed your papa,” hajime says fondly before placing a peck to the top of his delicate head. at this, your baby giggles loudly and begins to blabber incoherent sentences, ones that hajime pretends to understand nonetheless.

“you know, once we got here, he kept asking me ‘papa?’ the whole walk from the parking lot to the entrance. i guess he recognizes this place pretty well now.”

“oh, really?” at your words he peppers kisses all along your son’s chubby cheeks, “papa missed you too. so, so much.”

and it’s not without your son first being showered with praise and love from the team that the three of you leave to go home, praise that your baby accepts with innocent giggles and lots of squirming—all from the comfort of his papa’s warm embrace. undoubtedly his favorite place to be.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765

a/n: iwaizumi is such a good boy dad. a little self indulgent bcs i have big baby fever.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ BIRTHDAY BOY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Bakugou used to love birthdays.

He’d be the center of attention. With every year being bigger than the last (because, honestly, did you expect his well-off parents to hold back on their only son?). Cameras clicked, kids shouted his name, and adults smiled in awe. He never cared if they liked him or feared him—he was admired.

And for a time, that was enough.

But somewhere along the line, the spark in those birthday candles started to feel dull.

His parents still celebrated, of course, usually with a home-cooked meal, a cake from his favorite bakery, and a gift he pretended not to like but secretly adored. His grandparents would always show up with noisy hugs and poorly wrapped presents, and his mother still made him wear a stupid little birthday crown at the table.

It was embarrassing, but it was also safe.

Familiar.

Then came UA.

By high school, the world cracked open in ways he hadn’t expected.

Everyone was strong.

Everyone had dreams.

He wasn’t the only one aiming for the top, and it was maddening—but also, for the first time, grounding. And he got friends—real ones. Not sycophants or kids scared of his quirk to say anything—so they just stay behind him, but people who challenged him through his shouting, his pride, and his anger.

Shitty Hair was the first to barge into his dorm room on his birthday with a lopsided grin and a poorly wrapped gift. “It’s a protein bar sampler! Thought you’d wanna see which one you could crush with one hand!”

After that, it became a tradition. Racoon Eyes brought handmade cards with glittery explosions. Soy Face made crown cut-outs from construction paper that Bakugou refused to wear but never threw away. Dunce Face bought the same grocery store cake every year with a new dumb nickname written in icing (he gets more creative each year—it’s starting to piss Bakugou off).

It was stupid. It was chaotic. It was good.

It became his day again.

And now—now he was 23.

The world around him had changed again.

He was a pro now. He had his own agency, his own patrols, and his own damn business cards that got passed around in hero circles and used to shut down villains on sight. Dynamight—no, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, they called him, like he was some unstoppable force (and an unstoppable force for a long-ass hero name). Which he was, most of the time.

But today?

Today, he just wanted to come home.

The celebration at the agency had been loud, grand, and grating. His staff meant well. Hell, even his sidekick (wow, surprising, he only had one because he was the only kid with the balls to directly say to Bakugou that he’ll surpass him during a personal interview) had pooled money to get him a custom gauntlet case with engraved initials.

There were banners (too flashy), snacks (pretty good), an off-key song, and a gaudy cake that someone ordered with indoor-safe sparklers instead of candles. He’d smiled (barely), given a thank-you speech that was short and gruff but genuine, and then dipped out the first moment he could without looking like a total ass. Bakugou knew exactly where he wanted to be.

Home.

You were waiting for him there.

Because you are his home.

He inhaled and instantly recognized the scent of soy, garlic, and ginger—it hit like a nostalgic punch straight to his gut. Home cooking. His home. You.

You peeked your head out from the kitchen and grinned. “Took you long enough, birthday boy.”

He let out a long breath, shoulders dropping, mouth tugging into a real smile as he kicked off his boots and unzipped his jacket, haphazardly draping it on the coat rack. “You been cooking this whole time?” he asked, padding toward the kitchen, hands already aching to hug you.

“I had to start late since someone had a fancy party,” you teased, arching a brow.

He caught your waist and pulled you in, burying his face into your shoulder. You were warm. Always warm. Always his to come home to. “Smelled it from the driveway. Thought I was gonna cry.”

You laughed, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s soft. It’s real. It’s what Bakugou, for the longest time of his life, thought he didn’t deserve.

“Well don’t cry. You’ll ruin your grumpy old man image.”

“You keep sayin’ old like I’m ancient,” he grumbled, voice muffled against you.

“You are! Twenty-three? That’s basically the beginning of the end.”

Bakugou snorted, lifting his head just enough to kiss your cheek. “Then I guess you better start takin’ care of me, huh?” he murmured, giving you another kiss on the cheek—and he’s tempted to bite into those round cheeks of yours, but he holds back; maybe later, he thinks. “Gonna live up to your promise?”

“I already do,” you said, smug.

Dinner was spread out in neat portions on your little dining table—fried karaage, miso soup, tamagoyaki, mapo tofu (yes, you finally lived up to surpassing Fuyumi’s recipe), Japanese curry, and a bowl of white rice shaped into a neat little mountain with a pickled plum on top. Comfort food. His favorites.

You even laid out a folded napkin at his seat and put a can of his favorite cold tea beside it.

But it was the bento cake in the center that made him pause. It was small—round and modest, clearly homemade. The white frosting was a little uneven, and there were three stubby candles jammed into the top in a crooked triangle. The frosting on top attempted an explosion shape but looked more like a flower in bloom. He loved it.

“You made that?” he asked, lowering into the seat and staring at it like it was some rare artifact.

“Baked and frosted. Don’t look too close, or you’ll see my fingerprints in it,” you said, sitting across from him. “And before you ask—no, I didn’t buy it from some store. I wanted to make it for you. Even if it’s ugly.”

“It’s not ugly.”

“Liars go to hell.”

He huffs. “Well, I think it’s fuckin’ adorable.”

You two ate slowly. Bakugou didn’t scarf it down like he did in the breakroom or during hero meetings. He savored each bite as you two shared a warm conversation over dinner. You told him how a kid at daycare tried to make you a birthday card to give to him but ended up scribbling dinosaurs fighting a volcano instead. You showed him a crayon drawing folded in your bag. It said, “Happpy Brithdai KATSOOKY.”

He laughed so hard he snorted.

After dinner, you two sat at the table for a while, talking about nothing, hands brushing occasionally, until you leaned forward and lit the candles. When you’re close like this, Bakugou could clearly remember every feature on your face—it’s something he wants to commit to memory every night.

“Make a wish.”

“Hm,” he hummed in thought.

“Make a wish quickly before the fire alarm sets off, dummy,” you smiled, joking.

He looked at you through the candlelight—lips slightly parted, eyes soft and loving. Yeah, he wants your face engraved in the deepest corners of his brain.

Bakugou made a wish. Then blew them out.

“What’d you wish for?” you asked.

He got up, walked around the table, and pulled you to your feet. “You.”

“You already have me,” you tilted your head to the side.

“Then I wished for more of you,” he replied, pressing your foreheads together.

“You’re sappy when you’re full,” you murmured, brushing your thumb across his jaw.

“I’m sappy when you bake me cake and feed me curry.”

You fed each other bites of the bento cake, poking fun at how sweet it was, until he dabbed a bit of icing on your nose. You retaliated by smearing it across his cheek. It turned into a mini war. Hands, faces, even his shirt took frosting damage. He scooped some off his collar and flicked it at you.

“I surrender! Oh my god, we’re a mess.”

“We can always take a shower later,” he says.

...

“Is that a suggestion or a promise?”

“You’re fuckin’ shameless,” he taunted, though showering together after isn’t that far off from what he was thinking.

“Uh huh. And who’s now old?”

“Still not me,” he said, wiping his face clean with a napkin. “And even if I was—if I hit fifty and go bald and need reading glasses and fall asleep at 9PM—if you’re still here with me, I’ll be fine.”

You paused.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Even if I go gray first?” you asked.

“I’ll dye it with you.”

“What if I need a cane?”

“I’ll get one with spikes, and we’ll match.”

You laughed so hard you almost fell onto him. And when you looked up again, your eyes were glassy with affection.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki.”

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin with care he rarely showed anyone else.

“Best one yet.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Fr

add up my love | ft. s.hinata

synopsis: after pining after you for what feels like a lifetime, hinata shoyo finally gets to experience the bliss that is waking up next to you.

pairing: ts!hinata shoyo x gn!reader | sfw | cw: kinda suggestive (waking up next to each other), slight manga spoilers | genre: fluff | wc: 946

Shoyo can’t believe his luck. Rolling over in bed, he’s greeted by the sweet— and slightly humorous— image of your sleeping figure. You look so peaceful like this, with your hair strewn across his threadbare pillowcase. The figure of the pillow you’re currently resting on is misshapen and wrinkled from the lack of care it’s received during his time abroad.

Last night, he had been embarrassed when you walked in and saw the disarray of his place. When he had imagined taking the person he’s been in love with since high school home, it hadn’t been to a bare and dusty room, but everything happened so fast last night, and he didn’t exactly have time to clean the place up for you. You hadn’t seemed to mind, though.

That was one of the things he liked most about you. How understanding and patient you always were.

Reminiscing on the past evening has his chest swelling with affection and excitement. He’s not sure he can contain his happiness for much longer.

“Are you up yet?” He whispers, trying his best to keep his voice level. In spite of his efforts, his voice penetrates the quiet hum that surrounds his room in a rather abrupt manner.

“Hm?” You murmur sleepily, which makes the spiker’s heartbeat speed up. The sound thrums in his ears, causing his face to heat up.

“I, um-“ He starts, nervous, “ Just asked if you’re up.”

You shift slightly, signaling that you’re still fighting sleepiness. Peeking out of one eye, you shoot Shoyo a soft smile before stretching your limbs slightly. The subtle action quickens his heartbeat, and a wide, unconscious smile spreads across his face. He can’t believe that he gets to experience you like this. A warm tenderness spreads through his body as he admires you further. You’re cute when you’re sleeping, and you’re even cuter when you’ve just woken up.

He may die from happiness.

“What’re you smiling at?” You hum, moving to rest your head on his chest. Shoyo’s sure you can hear the loud boom of his heart, but he’s decided he doesn’t care. All his cards are on the table now; he might as well play them. Blushing, he pulls you closer to him, doing his best to contain how elated he is at this moment.

You nuzzle your face into his chest, and he decides he’s definitely going to die.

Clearing his throat, he smiles down at you, his grin growing impossibly wider. He decides to take a chance when he picks up a piece of your hair and begins to play with it. The feeling of the lock between his fingers has him reveling in the intimacy of the moment. He thinks back to his time in Brazil when he opened up to Heitor about you. His beach volleyball partner had found it amusing— how hopelessly head over heels Shoyo was for you. He’ll have to text him as soon as he gets the chance.

“I asked what you’re smiling about.” You interrupt, poking his cheek playfully, eyes bright with mirth.

Shoyo considers his answer, trying to remember the tips Heitor had given him about how to speak to someone you’re interested in. Mind wandering, his eyes shift to the side of the room. He examines the shabby curtains and takes note of the morning light slipping through them. Maybe he’ll tell you he’s happy you’re here, or he’ll compliment you on how pretty you are. Did you like things like that? He hopes you do.

Before he can decide on an answer, his stomach grumbles loudly.

He freezes, slightly mortified, as the noise echoes through the room. He’s pretty sure Heitor never mentioned that loud stomach noises were a way to make himself more attractive to people.

“Hungry?” You laugh.

Breathing a sigh of relief at your amusement, he chuckles sheepishly, “I guess so.”

You sit up in bed, removing yourself from his grasp, and it’s all Shoyo can do to stop himself from pulling you back in again. Now that he’s experienced your warmth, he never wants to let go.

“You have food here? I can make us something,” You suggest, pushing a loose strand of hair back, bringing more attention to your face. Your position perfectly aligns with the sliver of sun that his curtains have allowed in. The ray of light shines down on you like you’re something out of a dream, which Shoyo figures isn’t half untrue.

Sitting up on his elbows, he shivers from the feeling of the covers slipping off and the cold air hitting his chest. While jarring, it’s a welcome feeling. It reminds him that he’s here and that he’s alive.

“I don’t think there’s much here,” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “I think I have, like, some chicken and protein shakes?” Cringing at the statement, he decides he’ll need to stop by the grocery store later today. He needs to be more prepared, especially if you’re going to be coming over more often.

Again, you laugh, looking down at him in adoration.

“I promise I usually have more. Back in Brazil, I-“ He tries to explain but is cut off by the feeling of your lips pressing against his. His breath catches, and electricity shoots through him. The scent of your shampoo is hypnotic. Eagerly, he tries to deepen the kiss, but you pull back before he can.

Staring at you in awe, he pouts at the sudden loss of feeling. You giggle and lay down on him again, “Let’s just stay here then. I like doing this.”

His heart swells once more, and he glances downward at you, smiling, “I like doing this too.”