MARKS ! A. Miya X Fem!reader

Clingy!Satoru who calls you every night that you're not in his bed, so he can snuggle his pampered butt into bed and fall asleep to your voice; cheek squished comfortably into the pillow, murmuring soft and sleepy I miss yous into his pillow while you adore him through the screen.

Clingy!Satoru who liplocks you like he's trying to glue himself to you. His lips never want to leave yours, there's always a reluctancy when he pulls away from a kiss and oh, the way he pleads for kissy marks — he wants to be decorated in them, "More please... here, and here... and here... huh? It won't look goofy; it's my lady's lipstick. I'm gonna show off your marks to everyone."

Clingy!Satoru who stands behind you in a queue — because you "look too good from the back" and he needs to block the people behind you from getting a good view of what belongs to him. With a dorky smirk on his face, his fingers nip at the back of your clothes, his eyes obsess over every inch of you from your head to your shoes.

In public, especially in long queues, Satoru leans down to your neck and speaks to you with his lips grazing your skin.

Clingy!Satoru who keeps his arms around you while the two of you are talking in a group, his biceps pressing at your sides. He habitually grazes his fingers over your tummy, stopping and smirking each time he receives a swat from you.

Clingy!Satoru who trots after you, tall stature lingering in your shadow, following as you pave the way to wherever it is you're taking him. He'll clumsily bump into you from the back when you abruptly stop because he keeps such a terrible tailing distance.

Clingy!Satoru who is glued to your body in bed even during a heatwave. It always plays out the exact same way every night:

You're sweating, the air is too thick. But Satoru doesn't care; he clings to your back despite being a literal heater himself.

"Satoru." you swat him away for the fifth time. He groans and inches away — but a few minutes later he's scooching back into spooning position.

"Satoru, seriously. You're too hot."

"I know." he smiles against the nape of your neck, arms wrapped firmly around you.

Swat.

eddie munson can't cook...

this is a popular headcanon and while i do agree,,,,

as a delusional loser, i'm going to say:

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook until he found his mother's recipe book

while decluttering the trailer for spring cleaning, wayne finds an old box filled with random documents, knick knacks and something left for eddie from his mother

wayne smiles sadly as he holds the old book. it's worn on the corners and the spine is creaky and frail. a few of the pages are weak from water droplets and rips

he calls eddie over and hands him the book

the air leaves eddie's body as he looks at the forgotten thing. small flashes of memories flow through his mind -- thanksgivings, sunday mornings, his 6th birthday. just a handful of the times he saw his mother drag her finger along the pages and occasionally scribble and scratch with her chewed on pen

he blinks slowly as his eyes scan each page, his mother's handwriting sharp and curly but somehow he can read it just fine

when he lies in bed that night he reads the book over and over and over;

potato casserole ...

deviled eggs ...

choclate chip brownies ...

eddie's favorite birthday cake ...

all of those times his mother asked him to close his eyes or leave the room so her secret ingredients wouldn't be revealed echo in his ears. all those " needs extra something"s printed on these pages forever

he decides to not let his mother's cooking die with her

over the course of a month, he saves all of his money up, waiting for the right day to hit the grocery store and stock up

when he gets back from the store, he drops all the bags on the counter. he flicks on the tv to some horror movie and cracks open a beer -- it's not his mother's glass of cheap red wine and soap operas but close enough

he stays in the kitchen all day, sweating from the heat of the stove and oven and from his anxiety shooting through the roof. the most he's ever done before is scrambled eggs and even then, wayne's had to step in before

but he reads his mother's words carefully, slowly. he lets her guide his hands as he stirs and whisks and chops

it's nightfall when he's done. despite snacking on the ingredients and a bag of chips, he's still hungry, excited to chow down

wayne comes in surprised at what his boy's done. eddie sheepishly asks wayne if he wants to try everything. wayne chuckles and sits down at the table

as they go through each dish, eddie's heart twists and thumps. if you could eat a memory, a vision, he was doing just that

while he's proud of himself, he can't help but feel a little disappointed and unsatisfied. everything was a little off. small bits were burnt or a little under cooked, a little too much salt here, too many onions there

wayne tells him to go easy on himself, there's still more time to keep cooking

so eddie keeps cooking.

he starts incorporating it into his daily life. he "buys" other books and cuts recipes out of magazines; if he can do this recipe than he'll have no issue doing this other one

but of course, the best part of cooking is sharing

so he makes snacks for hellfire. bakes his friends' favorite dessert on their birthdays. invites them over some nights just to try whatever new creation he's found or thought up

holidays may not be fruitful with presents but a delicious hot meal is always guaranteed now. when he eats at restaurants or other people's homes he's able to dissect what's in the food and appreciate the time and energy it takes to get made

soon, his mother's recipe book is stuffed with sticky notes of comments or thoughts eddie has; "half the butter for wayne's cholesterol", "exclude the hazelnuts for gareth", "add lemon zest", "sprinkle parmesan on top - fresh"

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook, until he found his mother's recipe book. now, he's the scary, evil metalhead dungeon master who knows how to properly whip meringue and cook a holiday dinner

Started off as a little paragraph but ended with me rambling on a lot.

Thinking about Eddie finding a stray kitten on his way home from work, notices it wandering along the side of the road all by itself. He thinks back to the days of taking care of all the strays in the trailer park, including the raccoons. He makes the decision before he can even think about it, pulling his truck over. As soon as Eddie gets down on his knees, putting his hand out for the kitten to take a sniff, the little ball of fur kicks into a hissing attack.

So spicy

“I know I look a bit scary but I promise I won’t hurt you, little guy.”

Eddie takes his flannel off from around his waist, reaching a gentle hand out again hoping the little creature will deem him worthy to sniff.

He feels the wet nose touch the tips of his fingers, sniffing curiously with a watchful eye still on Eddie. But, it didn’t catch Eddie’s other hand coming from behind to cover it with the black and white flannel.

Gotcha

“You’re safe now.” He tries soothing the kitten as it hisses and screeches within the fabric, making his way back to his truck, thinking of what he’s gonna need to take care of the fur ball.

Thinking of how you’ll react.

He keeps the little bundle on his lap as he drives off toward the grocery store like planned. Conveniently sitting next to a pet store. His hand rubs between its little ears as it grumbles, not wanting to give into the scritches.

As Eddie grabbed all the necessities the kitten sat in the pouch of his black hoodie, still wrapped in the flannel with Eddie’s hand holding it in place. If Eddie’s fingers were subject to little love bites, he didn’t complain. Even if those little needles for teeth felt like knives slicing into his skin.

Walking through the door, Eddie drops his keys in the bowl by the door, kicks off his shoes and puts everything away before heading for the stairs.

He sets the little guy up in the bathroom, putting a gray fuzzy blanket down in the tub with a few toys. Two bowls with food and water are put down on the tiled floor. The kitten letting Eddie holding him as he gives the little guy a tour of the room.

“And we’ll put your litter box over here.”

This is only temporary until you get comfortable enough to explore.

He’s rambling on as the kitten stuffs its little head into the food bowl, munching away, and doesn’t hear as you come in the front door. Or when you climbed the stairs.

“You’re gonna love it here.”

“Babe, who are you talking to?”

Eddie had no intentions of keeping this a secret. He was an open book with you about everything. But, something deep inside of him told him he needed to hide the kitten, for fear that it would be taken away.

He quickly stuffs the kitten into his hoodie, out of your sight as you open the bathroom door, your eyes landing on Eddie sat on the bathroom floor with a guilty smile on his face as he greets you.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was work?”

He looked so sweet looking up at you, trying to change the subject, making himself seem even more suspicious.

“Whatcha doing in here?”

Eddie shrugs looking around, eyes going wide, realizing you can see everything.

“Just, bathroom stuff.” He chuckles nervously as the kitten starts to move around.

You kneel down, smiling at the man you’ve been in love with for years. The man who was so bad at keeping secrets.

“What kind of bathroom stuff, sweetness?”

His eyes bug out of his head as the kitten jumps, moving the fabric with it. You jump at the movement, looking at Eddie again, finding him whispering into the neck of his hoodie.

Be nice.

“Gonna show me what’s jumping around in there?” You laugh, knowing something like this was bound to happen because that’s just who Eddie is. Someone always wanting to help and take care of others who needed it most.

With a sigh, he pulls the disgruntled ball of fur from under his hoodie, holding it up between the two of you.

“This is Ghost. Our spicy little pepper.” He ends the introduction on a question, still thinking you may turn the stray away. Thinking you’ll tell him he can’t keep it.

Your smile said otherwise as you looked from the kitten still grumbling in Eddie’s hands to the man you could never say no to. Even if you wanted to.

“The more the merrier, right?”

eddie + trauma

i think what a lot of people don't realize about other's with severe trauma like PTSD and abandonment issues is that we're not always fun to be around. sometimes we bite the hand that feeds us and we don't know why. is it instinct or is this just the kind of person we are?

I think eddie would struggle with this. it would kill him to be outright with what's bothering him- his inner monologue is telling him just how stupid he sounds and to get the hell over it already. we've seen this already: he's dramatic and silly and we love it but he's great at deflecting. he'd be the type of boyfriend to insist nothing is wrong and let it eat away at him until he used it later in an argument.

he'd need a lot of reassurance - but i think he'd also be great at returning it. you won't give up on him so easily, and he'll spend a lot of time wondering why you haven't.

JJBA part 5 I love youuuu

He crawls into your lap as you’re playing another game on the teal Switch held tightly between your hands.

The tv is muffled as the earbuds fill your ears with the sounds of your character running through the halls of the hospital featured in the horror game that has held your attention for most of the day.

Eddie sinks his head into the pillow now resting on your legs, pulls the mustard-colored throw blanket up to his chin as he settles on your lap and focuses on the tv again.

You watch as another cutscene begins, one hand leaving its hold on the Switch to run throw Eddie’s damp curls.

You feel the deep breath he takes in before a sigh leaves him as your fingers begin their journey along the faded scars running from his cheek to below his jaw, fingertips kissing as they move up and down.

After a few strokes he grabs your hand in his , bringing it to his lips, smacking a loud kiss to the palm of your hand, breathing you in with eyes closed. His eyes meet yours over your hands, happiness filling the depths of those brown eyes, before turning back towards the tv and letting your hand go.

No words are spoken or needed as you both exist in each other’s space, resting contently on the well-loved olive couch, where touch is more than enough for now.

It’s another Sunday afternoon and you’ve barely moved from your spot on the loveseat as you stare out the window with a faraway look on your face.

You’ve been so quiet lately.

Eddie didn’t know what to do as he stood watching you from the kitchen with his second cup of coffee in hand. The frown etched on your face seemed to stretch further and further the longer he looked.

The sadness in your eyes growing darker with so many thoughts running through your mind.

“Sweetheart?”

Your head turns slightly in answer, eyes not lifting from their spot on the floor, afraid of what he might find there.

“What’s on that mind of yours?”

Too much and nothing at all

Static filled chaos

Echoing silence

“Just tired, Eds.”

Your eyes find his, a smile meant to reassure him painted on feels as heavy as a boulder sitting on your shoulder to keep up.

And he sees right through it, because he always does. He knows you better than anyone else.

You can’t hide from him.

He sits perched on the arm of the loveseat closest to you, a hand coming to rest on your back, pressing firm as fingers massage along the muscles there. You melt into his touch, face immediately finding his chest, breathing him in.

“How about I run to the bakery and pick up some of those croissants you love?”

You press further into him, the soft fabric of his hoodie kissing your face as his warm scent swirls through your head. Arms wrapping around his waist bringing him even closer.

“We can drive out to the lake and sit for a while like we used to? Maybe listen to one of our mixtapes.”

He laughs at the memory of those tapes. Especially that first one he gave you, when you were nothing more than friends fumbling around trying to figure out your feelings.

Songs that reminded him of you.

“How does that sound?”

Another bout of silence passes as you hold him, his hand still trailing along your back as he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

Your eyes close as you sink into the tenderness, the care he shows, something you feel undeserving of some days.

With a sigh, you pull back to look up into Eddie’s face, heart stuttering at the look you find there.

He presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose as you reply, “I’d like that.”

miya osamu has long accepted the fact that the girl he loves is a crybaby.

when he and atsumu met you as kids you were crying alone in the playground as your friends left one by one.

when you entered middle school with them you cried when you found out you were in separate classes.

when he gifted you a necklace he had worked hard for to buy you cried so hard you got snot all over his shoulder.

when you atsumu made you so mad you cried in his arms as he comforted you.

when you and atsumu left hyogo for tokyo, you cried begging him to call you everyday.

when you were feeling lonely in college you cried on the phone with him and cried when he finally found the time to visit.

you cry over the smallest inconveniences, anything that made you feel happy, had you feeling mad, excited, surprised, anything.

so it's no surprise to him that it's taking you so long to finish your vows because of crying so hard.

all formalities are forgotten as he pulls you in his arms, swaying you gently as you finish the last of your vows. family, friends, and guests are forgotten ones he cries with you as he reads his vows written on a tissue paper.

"I whole heartedly promise to love you, comfort you and cry with you even if death separates us and even in our next life. i'd love you now and forever and until the next life that i'll share with you."

on the softer side, choso's just touchy.

he yearns for you. every moment he cant have your hand in his, his head in your lap, or envelop you in his large arms for a hug he frowns. the cutest pout on his lips.

he's honestly kind of cat-like with it.

he'll often find you, reading, working on your laptop, anything really and he'll find a way to touch you or to be touched by you. pulling you into his lap, hugging his face into your back, feeling your warmth seep into him, grunting his approval softly.

he'll request you wash or style his hair for time to time, swears that its better when you do it but its just so he can sit close to you, feel your fingers massage the conditioner into his scalp, the brush of your fingers as you comb through the loose waves to put them up in their signature ponytails.

all he'll say is missed you. in a low hum, heart warming with comfort when your scent reached his nose, your fingers scratching along his scalp and your soft skin touching his.

he'll take your hands and place them on his chest, his stomach, or he'll hold it up towards his face, a chaste kiss to your wrist before just holding your hand to his cheek.

or he'll call your name and purse his lips, knowing your press yours to his.

and he just feels so much in his heart, in his soul towards you, that he can't stop once your lips are on his. first it's peck after peck, then longer, deeper, then he's kissing you like you've been gone for months, like he'll die if he pulls away, until he sufficently stole the air from both of your lungs, and your left panting afterwards.

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