#'amused' doesn't come close

[suga4mycoffee]

I posted 457 times in 2022

That's 457 more posts than 2021!

37 posts created (8%)

420 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@yeetlegay

@rainbowcolored7

@lutawolf

@kinnship

@iffervescent

I tagged 448 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#coconuts mafia - 421 posts

#kinnporsche - 251 posts

#kinnporsche the series - 238 posts

#kinn theerapanyakul - 49 posts

#porsche pachara - 41 posts

#porsche kittisawasd - 40 posts

#apo nattawin - 39 posts

#kinnporsche meta - 34 posts

#mile phakphum - 32 posts

#love in the air the series - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#i too was attempting to manifest insight from the queen of the coconuts mafia

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Saw a post where someone was bitching about Korn, and it reignited my hatred...

The constant manipulative and condescending bullshit he's pulling is unbelievable. A benevolent smile, and soft-spoken words, hiding cold calculation, and someone who would be willing to sacrifice his son's happiness, sanity, and probably even his life, if it means his family is in a position of power. As long as there is a legacy. (Tankhun may be unable to lead the family, but Korn doesn't need Kinn to take over. Because he'd drag Kim back kicking and screaming, with no hesitation, and to hell with what Kim thought about it. The only reason he hasn't done that, is because he has Kinn to step up and take over. If Kinn were to die, become seriously injured, or even just earn enough of his father's displeasure... Korn would give Kim that responsibility. I 100% believe that.)

And the way he keeps up the (thin) facade of caring and concerned father, while making sure to keep Kinn firmly under his thumb, and even crushed under his heel? Never missing a chance to bring up Kinn's past 'mistakes'. Encouraging Kinn to be distant and almost isolated, but still heavily reliant on Korn for praise and validation, because it's a way to control him and manipulate him. Speaking in bullshit parables, like he's some wise old sage, when he's really just coming off sounding like one of those douchebags on the internet who think they're so cultured and enlightened, and are eager to tell you all about it. Giving Porsche special treatment, and then demanding Porsche be punished for something, because he's just another bodyguard and doesn't deserve special treatment.

(That's not even touching on the fact that I don't believe he's got any reason to be punished. I know people are all like "He's a bodyguard, he should have been more careful!", and I would agree... if not for Kinn. I know very little about D/s dynamics, but I personally saw Porsche look to Kinn for permission to take the water. And because Kinn has no social skills to apply to the task of 'flirting with his crush', and was being 'coached' by his friends, when he ends up smiling at Porsche (if we can call that a smile, you awkward little cabbage) and giving a little nod, well... To me, and probably to Porsche, that was a nod of permission. Yes? Probably need @lutawolf to tell me if I'm seeing correctly, or I'm being a big dumb.)

These barely scratch the surface. I might revisit Korn's scenes in the future, if anyone thinks I have a point to further turn my brain onto. If not, fuck that guy. He can get face-fucked by a cactus, because you can see how much Kinn is impacted by what Korn says and thinks. Which is why I found the 'rusty knife' scene so interesting. Because here we see Kinn visibly and significantly uncomfortable with what Korn is trying to pull, and his expression does a whole-ass journey. Again, I can also talk about that, if anyone wants me to.

In summary, it's 3:48AM, I've been frothing at the mouth about this for an hour or so, and I'm going to go the fuck to sleep.

My rage is immeasurable, and Korn can catch these fucking hands.

103 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

#4

In my humble opinion...

Kinn needs to get his ass eaten and destroyed. And Porsche is just the man to do it.

I will not be accepting criticism at this time.

139 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

#3

It's a good thing we don't have P'Pond's email, or anything. I can just see it now:

Dear P'Pond,

Thank you so much for the absolute masterpiece that is KinnPorsche The Series. Me and my fellow thirsty hoes would like to request that you just straight-up film sex tapes for any of your actors who are willing to 'perform', and make them available for purchase immediately. We'll take digital download, if you don't want to incur the expense of physical copies, photocards, etc.

Sincerely, The Coconuts Mafia: Conglomerate of Unrepentant Sluts

173 notes - Posted July 28, 2022

#2

The moments of realisation that hit you when re-watching this show are brutal.

Like the moment where Vegas speaks about taking care of the hedgehogs, and all of them dying.

The moment where he speaks about the last one, and how "He still left me, too."

How "I didn't even get to name him.", because if he didn't name him, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when he died.

How everything he's ever tried to take care of, except Macau, has died. And that he must be terrified that something will happen to Macau, too.

When he says "Everything that I love has left me.", and you realise he's just waiting for that to happen to everyone in his life that he even remotely cares about.

How you realise that, maybe, this is why Vegas tried so hard to treat Pete like a pet at first.

Maybe, this is why he kept calling Pete a pet. "You are such a good pet of the main family."

Perhaps, it's why he tried to make Pete eat from a pet bowl.

Because if Pete was 'just' a pet, like the hedgehogs he's cared for, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if he died.

But when he sees that Pete might actually die, he panics.

He crumbles, because he's scared he'll lose Pete, just as easily as those hedgehogs.

When he calls Pete's name, no longer calling him a pet of any kind, shaking his arm, tapping his face. Because Pete is so much more than a pet.

How Vegas dresses Pete's wounds, gives him medicine, speaks to him softly.

How he makes him hot food, in a proper bowl with proper utensils, and even eats some of it himself, to not only prove that it isn't poisoned, but to show that it's a bowl he's willing to eat from. That it isn't something he'd give to a pet.

How he's completely fine with Pete having a book to read, until Pete says something that makes him lash out.

How he gave Pete a chance to escape, to leave him, instead of dying under his hands, like all his hedgehogs. Like the one he holds in his hands when he leaves him the key.

The way he sits like his strings have been cut, mourning the last hedgehog, and knows that Pete will be gone by the time he's brushed himself off and gone back inside.

Because "Everything that I love has left me."

Except Pete.

Because Pete doesn't, no, can't leave Vegas while he's suffering.

He was given the perfect opportunity to leave, to go back to the main family, to escape Vegas.

And instead of grasping that opportunity with both hands, he stays. He sees Vegas, alone and in mourning, and decides that he can't leave him.

He gives Vegas an ear, lends his metaphorical shoulder to cry on, because he wants to help ease his suffering.

He sits with Vegas as he gives the hedgehog a little funeral, handing him flowers to lay atop the grave. (If I'm not mistaken, the flowers are plumeria flowers, which have various meanings, one of them being new beginnings.)

When Vegas stands and walks away, Pete follows.

Pete says he doesn't know why he didn't run away, but I don't believe that. I don't think Vegas really believes that, either.

And Vegas opens up to Pete. He tells him about the hedgehogs, about his battle to care for them and keep them alive, and how he failed. How they died over, and over, and over. How he doesn't have any left. How he didn't name the last one, because maybe it would hurt less when that one died too.

He tells Pete how he's always measured against the main family, against Kinn, and found lacking. How, no matter what he does, his efforts will never be noticed, never be given the same weight.

Pete tries to comfort him, tries to stop him from hurting himself.

See the full post

206 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay, but Kinn trying to talk to Porsche while being 'patient and calm', and instead shrieking like a particularly grouchy alley cat in heat every two seconds? Fucking flawless?

And then trying to modulate his tone and volume, and ending up being so fucking cringe, because he's emotionally constipated and has no proper social skills to speak of, because he's never needed them? Immaculate?

Finally, Porsche being so fucking done with him the entire time, his face practically screaming 'fuck you and all you stand for and your stupid family' while not giving Kinn a single inch of anything, except more rope to hang himself with during this fucking disaster of a conversation? Priceless?

This is my third re-watch, and I'm still feeling so many things, but the overriding emotion this time?

Pure petty glee.

Don't get me wrong, I love Kinn, and I'm sure he'll get (some) of his shit together soon, but damn, bitch. I thought Porsche was our beloved disaster king, but Kinn's coming for his crown in this episode.

306 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wave-nine]

Who does Honey prefer to hangout with for a longer time period, Doggy or Money?

GASP you can't just ask that!! The 3 of them are boyfriends!!!!!!!!!!!! tsk tsk

[ashrifts]

@deathfavor asked:

❛  i'm going to make sure nothing bad will ever happen to you again.  ❜ ( okay hear me out here but them pre-tenjiku )

in a world where the light of the law cannot reach the downslopes to drugs and death slithering in the shadows the haitani brothers have always called home, there's only two rules that will always ring true: you cannot trust anyone but yourself, and the only currency worth anything more than money was spilled blood with a name attached to it and a debt it neglected to repay.

at twelve, ran does not simply witness, but enforces this factㅤ───ㅤthe first pay is enough to get rindou brand new glasses, and they no longer have to sneak into the cinema theatre in between functions, and they spend hours arguing over which vending machine to drop their loose change in, and ran eats so many new desserts that rindou had panicked when he wouldn't wake up the day after. at thirteen, this becomes routine, and they become the kings of the world.

they never needed anyone else but each other; not the parents out of the polaroid pictures ran keeps in his pocket, not the bosses who believed them pawns in ran's own chessboard, not the fickleness of teaming up with people who would betray them when the opportunity arose.

this kid may be strong, but he is foolishㅤ───ㅤand the most foolish thing of all is the part of ran that wants to believe him.

ㅤㅤㅤ‘ㅤthat's a tall promise.ㅤ’ㅤㅤand arrogant, too. ran grins.ㅤㅤ‘ㅤi can look after myself just fine. i have been looking after myself just fine a~ll this time. i don't need you to do it for me.ㅤ’

yet. yetㅤ───ㅤthere's a tight curl to his smile, almost a grimace, and a shadow over his eyes, almost resentment. he doesn't understand it now, but in five years, in seven, in seventeen, he will look back at this moment and realize he'd just been a child, even with the blood smeared on his hands, even with the ability to choose who lives and who dies with a smile on his face. he'd just been a child, and no one but his own little brother had looked out for him.

they never needed anyone else but each other, after allㅤ───ㅤbut what happens when one is gone? when the debt collector has an overdue debt of his own, and only death can pay it off? before meeting izana, ran had never thought of his past catching up to him, because he'd be strong enough to fend off anyone who came for his throne... but the person who had broken his dreams in the first place sits at his prison cell's bunk bed by him, with words so earnest, compassionate, it almost makes ran laugh to his face.

he doesn't. he stops smiling, and he looks at him in the eye, assessing.

ran does not believe in much, but he believes in izana's strength, and he believes in his ambition. he realizes, too, that izana would gain nothing from betraying them, that whatever he needed from them, he'd take if he truly wanted it, and no honeyed words would be necessary when his fists had already spoken convincingly enough. he didn't need to win ran over, not when ran had willingly chosen to follow him, even if izana saw his obedience as submission or cowardice. these words were honest, so ran allows him the same honesty in return.

ㅤㅤㅤ‘ㅤthat's not something people can control. not even you.ㅤ’ㅤㅤhe tells him bluntly, but not unkindly. there's a foreign softness to him that smooths out the edges of his voice and warmths the indifference in his eyes as he tilts his head, closely, carefully observing the very first person he considered an equal. subordination is as new to him as it is to the rest of this vicious generation, and his own words feel oddly clumsy in his mouth in a way they never have before. he doesn't know if it's the unknown budding comradeship throwing off his game or something like wonder at someone wanting to protect him. he doesn't know how to rationalize it, so he does not know how to accept it... but it doesn't feel belittling. it feels... reassuring, and that in itself is a newer experience than being bested in a fight.ㅤㅤ‘ㅤwe'll look out for each other when you make our team, right? i watch your back, you watch mine, all that corny stuffㅤ───ㅤand in the case i bite the dust first... then you do your best to make sure nothing bad happens to rindou.ㅤ’

he allows his new grin to wash out the melancholy mood from the air, playfully holding up his pinky finger.

ㅤㅤㅤ‘ㅤhow's that for a promise?ㅤ’

[killerpancakeburger]

Thinking about a Reader who ends up having Scary Dog Privileges with Ghost without meaning to. It just happened.

Then they have to deal with the fact that this comes with duties too.

Tags: civilian!reader, gn!reader, mostly fluff, a bit suggestive, smug!Ghost, smooth!Ghost. 800 words.

When Ghost is reluctant to getting sutured in Medical after accidentally opening his stitches, grumbling he can do it himself, who does the nurse call for? Yeah, you.

She could stand her ground, after all she's used to dealing with big, whiny men, but it's much more fun to knock on your door and smile at your bewildered gaze and gaping mouth when she explains the situation in two sentences.

"Ghost's being difficult, mind taking over?" "I'm sorry, what the hell does this have to do with me?" "C'm'on, everyone on base knows he's got a soft spot for you. Don't you want to make my job easier?"

You roll your eyes and slam your hands on your desk as you get up. Groaning as you walk past her— "I'm doing this for you, nothing else, got it?"

Mumbling to yourself "you've got to be kidding me" as you barge into the sick bay. Ghost is coolly seated at the end of a bed, large as life, casual clothes as black as his mask and— oh. You weren't told the wound was on his thigh— you weren't warned that he didn’t have pants on. You can’t help it, your eyes go down, down, your lingering gaze and your flustered silence forming a confession louder than words.

A noise — a scoff or a grunt, you’re not sure — emanates from him, breaks your trance, makes you look up. The amusement in his gaze tells you he noticed your oggling— of course he did. Nothing gets past the Ghost, and you've been remarkably unsubtle. Despite the mask, you swear you can make out the smug smirk on his lips. His cockiness reignites your irritation. Annoyance making you bolder than you really are, you charge at him, crossing the distance between you two in a stride, stopping close— too close. He doesn't back off.

"What's wrong with you?" you snarl. "Nothin'," he retorts, imperturbable.

It's actually the first time you’re overlooking him. You may be enjoying it a bit too much. Nevermind the fact that you've had to wedge yourself between his parted legs to get there.

You frown, unconvinced by his answer.

“Did Soap contaminate you?”

Bargaining to be cleared out earlier was the Scotsman's trademark.

“Johnny throws a fit cos he hates feeling useless. That's not what I'm doing.”

A smirk stretches your lips.

“Oh, no? I'm sure your reasons are much more noble.”

“Doesn't matter. Got what I wanted anyway.”

He's way too self-satisfied for a man in his underwear.

You throw an unequivocal look in the direction of his injury.

“What you wanted? A still open wound?”

“You.”

He replied without missing a beat, as confident as usual. It is both alluring and aggravating.

“And your idea of wooing me is making me upset?”

You don't add “because if it is, that's really fucking stupid” out loud, but you’re sure he got the message through your tone.

“Nah. But you're more honest when you’re angry. Gutsier.”

You only realize he slipped his index and middle fingers in your trouser loops when he sharply tugs at them. Off balance, you steady yourself by catching his shoulders.

Taking advantage of the strip of bare skin between your shirt and bottoms, the pads of his thumbs idly stroke your hip bones. The contact sends electricity through you, shivers of pleasure running down your sides.

“Ghost,” you start, severe, trying not to let the effect his touch has on you show in your voice.

“Simon,” he counters, surly. “Told ya it's Simon when we're alone, didn't I?”

He did, but you didn’t think he was serious. If that's what it takes to get him to listen… you’ll play by his rules.

“Simon. What's the rest of your brilliant plan? I'm here, but I can’t stitch you up.”

“How ‘bout a deal. I'll stop resisting… for a price.”

You raise an amused eyebrow.

“What kind of price?”

“A kiss.”

You snort. You didn’t believe him capable of something so… puerile.

“With the mask on?”

He doesn't move a muscle to get rid of it.

“Take it off.”

You usually wouldn’t obey what sounds like an order so easily, but it's the first time you get to touch the skull. Slipping two fingers between skin and cloth, you slowly roll up the mask all the way under his nose.

You gently trace the scars surrounding his lips. Then, the second you feel him relax, grip on your hips slackening and intensity of his gaze waning, you grab the bottom of his mask and drag it back down vigorously, making the holes for the eyes land way too low for him to see anything.

“If you thought you'd get a reward for acting out, you've got another think coming.”

[heartswithinreach]

Sitting on LaDS lap

Xavier

Physical contact is nothing new for you two. You trust Xavier with your life on the battlefield and when you're fighting the evening commute.

The train is packed on your way home after fighting Wanderers all day but Xavier doesn't notice until he sits down and realizes the person sitting next to him isn't his partner.

But before he can give up his seat for you, you're sitting across his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. He watches you settle, amused and flustered by your boldness to do something like this in public.

"I don't think this is allowed for safety." He says gently, not wanting to wake you. "But if you're that tired..."

Xavier holds you close, making sure you don't fall off his lap from the movement of the train, and peacefully dozes with you until you're home.

Rafayel

“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard — why aren’t I sitting on your lap?”

Rafayel pouts mostly for show and so he doesn’t come across as too eager. He’s barely holding back from squeezing you in a tight hug, he didn’t expect you to be so soft.

But he also didn’t expect what he said would make you self conscious. Rafayel quickly pulls you back down when you try to get off of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, making sure you stay put.

“Relax, cutie. I was just joking. You can stay for as long as you want.”

But he will expect you to return the favor whenever he wants in the future. Especially if it’s at an event and he wants to rub your relationship in other peoples’ faces.

Zayne

His reaction depends on where you are and what the situation is.

If you sit on his lap while waiting to be seated at a restaurant, he’ll be unimpressed by the PDA but allow it so you’re both not sore from standing.

In the privacy of his or your apartment, you’re welcome to do whatever you like.

Every time you come near him in the early evening while he’s reading a book, he secretly hopes you’ll curl up on his lap. Your warmth is just the balm he needs after his shift at the hospital.

Zayne always worries about his evol in the back of his mind. What if his body temperature is too low and being so close is unpleasant for you? The only thing that’ll stop him from fretting and relax is if you play with his hair.

Sylus

Your ass hasn’t touched an actual chair in this man’s presence since you made your relationship official.

The first time you tried, he stopped reading his intel to ask, “What are you doing all the way over there, sweetie?” and patted his thigh. It couldn’t have been more obvious what he wanted.

Won’t stand for any “I’m too heavy” nonsense. He’s genuinely offended when you say that. Have you seen his physique? He waits until you’ve decided to give it a shot and then he's manhandling you onto his lap.

Pavlov dogs you into this routine until one day you just sit on his lap, completely unprompted, and he gives you the most infuriating, self-satisfied grin when you realize what you’ve done.

He’s won this small victory and he won’t let you forget it.

[yawnderu]

Currently thinking about neighbor!Simon with a sweet thing who keeps shamelessly flirting with him.

Ghost, the soldier who has been basing his life in self-control and discipline, knocked down a peg or two by his younger neighbor. He doesn't even respond to the flirting, simply replying with a grunt or a "thanks" so quiet you can barely even hear it before he disappears into his house.

Neighbor!Simon, who initially moved to your quiet neighborhood for some peace and quiet— and he gets just that, with one glaring exception.

Neighbor!Simon, who is forced to listen to your moans and whines as you bounce up and down a dildo, filthy nonsense escaping your lips whenever it hits a sensitive spot.

Neighbor!Simon, who seemed amused about it at first and ignored it, but after a few times started feeling his jeans tighten up.

Neighbor!Simon, who cups his throbbing boner over his jeans, trying his best to stop himself from jerking off, yet your whiny moans are taking away any semblance of self-respect he has.

Neighbor!Simon, who timed his strokes with the sounds of your squelching cunt, imagining it's him going in and out of you.

Neighbor!Simon, who pathetically came all over his stomach when you moaned out his name, filthy and overly loud words leaving your lips because you know he can hear you.

Neighbor!Simon, who since then was less of a Ghost in his own neighborhood, actually trying to reply to your attempts at making conversation with him.

Neighbor!Simon, who told you one of his awful dad jokes just to hear the loudest sigh ever, the corners of his lips threatening to tug up at your reaction.

Neighbor!Simon, who eventually started tagging along for anything you did— Grocery shopping? Paying bills? Going to the park? Shopping? He's coming with you, claiming there's lots of creeps around.

Neighbor!Simon, who accepted your offers for dinner, looking at you moving around the kitchen and helping you, imagining you're his pretty little wife.

Neighbor!Simon, who got enough courage to kiss you after being 100% sure you were interested in him.

Neighbor!Simon, who couldn't keep the surprise from showing on his face when during one of your make out sessions, you took him to your bedroom.

Neighbor!Simon, who was a groaning mess underneath you as you rode him, calloused hands holding onto your hips with a bruising grip.

'' 'S what you wanted all along, love?'' He manages to grunt out between his deep groans and moans, hypnotized by the way your tits bounce while your tight cunt takes all of him.

''Since I first saw you.'' You reply with honesty, leg muscles tired from riding him, but his thick cock feels way too good to even think about stopping.

''Good girl.'' He praises, eyes closing as his hips start to thrust up, meeting you halfway while you bounce on his cock, angling up your ass so he hits a more sensitive spot that has you moaning on top of him, his grip on your hips going to your ass while he moves your smaller body up and down his cock, thrusts getting rougher while you finally collapse on top of him.

''Cum inside.'' His hips falter for a moment as he looks at you with raised eyebrows, your hushed confirmation of being on birth control enough to keep him going even harder, driving himself into your cunt at an unlawful pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he thrusted deeply, the room filled with the smell of sex, walls bouncing with the sounds of your combined desperate moans as he shoved himself as deep as he could, filling your womb with his thick, fertile cum. It doesn't matter if you're on birth control, his seed is much stronger.

Husband!Simon, who got to come home from deployment to his missus, stomach swollen with his baby.

[teddybeartoji]

toji loves listening to you ramble. i really think he does. he finds your voice so soothing, so comforting, no matter whatever the fuck you're actually talking about. he's lazing on the coach at home while you're out running some errands and ranting about how stupid people can be over the phone. he laughs quietly to himself, very amused by your annoyed tone. but he loves it. he wants to hear what you've bought, where you've been, what you've eaten, where you're going next. he loves hearing you talk to the barista, never ending the call with him. he listens to you order a sweet little beverage and he's smiling, happy about the fact that you're having a good time.

he can't wait until you come home though. he already knows you're going to step inside and immediately hit him with another ramble as if you weren't just on the phone with him. he watches you kick off your shoes and remove your coat, he watches you place your bags onto the table before making your way over to him. you give him a big toothy grin and he doesn't even have time to respond because you're already falling flat on him. folding your hands on his chest, you rest your chin on top of them - staring at your boyfriend at an uncanny angle. his big arms curl around your middle and now you truly feel at home.

"arytiredfmyet?"

he rumbles a chuckle from beneath you and pinches your side, reveling in the little squeak you let out. "ya gotta speak louder than that, sweetheart."

with an eye-roll, you grumble back. "i asked whether you're tired of me yet..."

he looks so terribly comfy. and homey. and he smells so fucking good. you've never seen a boyfriend look so boyfriend. he's warm and he's looking at you with the softest eyes, despite the little smug grin that's creeping on his lips.

"ya got more for me?"

"i'm afraid so. awful, just awful things happened on the bus." you nod your head, eyes big - emphasizing your words like you almost died on your way back home and his insides feel extremely gooey. you're so close and you're warm, too. he can feel your heartbeat pounding directly above his own, the touch is just right. he knows you're tired; you've had a long day but you're still so set on talking his ears off and he loves you.

his scarred hands knead the skin of your waist. he looks like a big domesticated wolf. you want to scratch his ears. you surpress your desire to tell him that though. his lips stretch into a proper smile and your stomach fills with butterflies.

"can't wait to hear all about it, sweetheart."

[lymtw]

Toji in a fresh relationship with you, where he notices how uncomfortable and anxious you are when you're alone with him. You can't hold his gaze without giggling nervously and blushing like crazy, and you can't stand when you can feel him watching you. It doesn't bother him. He usually meets your little giggle fits with a "what're you giggling about now? Huh?" a smirk on his face as he watches you try to compose yourself.

You noticed through your peripheral vision that Toji is looking at you. Your heart starts beating faster and faster, but you try to focus on the movie, anyway. Toji knows you caught on to him watching you, though. He saw your quick little side eye towards him before going back to the movie.

"Loosen up," his deep voice interrupts your "focused" bearing. "Why're you so nervous?" His hand settles on your knee, his thumb slowly stroking the area. It was meant to soothe your nerves, but really it just made your stomach errupt with butterflies.

"I'm okay," you say, your mouth incredibly dry. You turn your head as he scoots closer to you on the couch. "'M I okay to sit here?" He asks, watching the way you pull your hand away from between you and him, into your lap. His hand returns on you, this time on your thigh.

"You're shaking," he points out with a knowing smile on his face.

You have to think for a second before responding. Your ears were buzzing, your heart would not settle, you were truly in a daze whenever Toji was around.

"Just a little cold," you lie. "I'm fine, though." You return the soft smile, turning your focus back to the movie.

"Then, come here. What are you sitting so far from me for?" He puts an arm over your shoulders, pulling you tight against him.

Your body goes rigid in his hold. He's like a furnace, and the heat emmanating from his body was enough to make you feel like you were overheating. His scent was wet dream fuel—intoxicating and addicting. It was strong enough for you to start manifesting his appearance in your dreams, with the most lewd and unholy intentions.

His fingers stroked your arm, eliciting goosebumps on your forearms and your thighs. He can tell your attention isn't on the movie anymore. Your leg is bouncing, your knee occasionally knocking against his.

"What are you so nervous about, sweetheart? C'mon, talk to me." You can hear the amusement in Toji's tone. He pauses the movie, demanding your attention, but you don't even know where to start. There are so many things and yet you can't get a single one of them out.

"You don't like hanging out alone with me?"

"I do," you answer, instantly, trying to avoid hurting his feelings. You clasp your hands together in an attempt to relax.

"Then what's the problem, pretty?" He watches as you sit quietly, looking down at your lap. "Look at me." Your eyes slowly meet his, the eye contact giving you the illusion of being swallowed whole. "What is it?"

Your hands unclasp and your fingers start fidgeting with one another. "You're very attractive..." you mumble, basically inaudible to Toji.

"One more time for me, doll," he says, asking you to repeat yourself. He leans in to listen closely.

"You're... very attractive," you hesitantly repeat, this time with enough volume for Toji to hear you.

He's trying so hard not to laugh at how embarrassed you look at your admission, but it's not possible when you look so ashamed for saying it out loud.

"You're attracted to me, so you shrink?" He asks, the wide smile left behind from his laughter not diminishing.

You nod, your hands coming up to your face to cool down your burning cheeks. Toji finds the glossiness in your eyes adorable.

"So, I'm the one scaring you?"

"No...? I don't know..." You look away from Toji.

"You don't know." Toji chuckles. He knows it's him, but he won't let up because he's having a damn good time making you coil in on yourself. "Let me tell you something, doll face." He turns his whole body towards you, his leg bent on the couch. The movement causes you to lean back, adding space between you and him. His eyes flit between your eyes and your lips. "You are stunning. There's way too much to appreciate on that little mug of yours." He grins at the blush on your cheeks. "There's no need to be so shy around me. I'm not gonna eat you." He leans in again, taking up the whole space you made between you and him. "At least not yet."

Your heart dropped to your guts. You weren't sure you'd make it through the night without having a heart attack.

"You wanna kiss me, don't you?" His eyes center on yours, and you giggle, a valid response to his question. He smirks knowing the meaning behind your reaction. "I have eyes, babe. There's really no use denying it."

The closer he moves towards you, the more you feel like screaming. You know a good scream would relieve a whole lot of tension for you, but what would that look like to Toji?

"I-I do..."

"Come closer, then. Why are you leaning away?" He lets out a deep chuckle. "I'll lead if you want."

"Fine," you surrender.

Toji sighs, contentedly. "Just don't move. I'm serious, pretty girl. You move, and i'll bring the cuffs out."

You crack a grin, one that evolves into a laugh after a few seconds.

"Kidding, ma. Just wanted to make you laugh." He grins.

You don't even notice how close he's sitting until you stop laughing. You stare at each other in silence, his eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips again.

"Just relax and-"

You lean in this time, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. It's like a zap of electricity to your entire body when you feel his lips against yours. They're warm, and surprisingly soft. He doesn't shove his tongue into your mouth, which you're grateful for. That's for later on. You just couldn't wait any longer. Waiting was making you even more anxious, so you dived into the moment.

"Oh, sweetheart," he almost groans. "You'll drive me insane if you keep up the shy girl act," he mutters against your lips. "I know you want me like I want you, so quit making me beg." He moved closer towards you, knowing you'd back away, eventually meeting a dead end with your back against the couch armrest. Your eyes told him everything he needed to know. You were lusting over him and you wanted him to get you.

You looked up at him with starry eyes, your cunt throbbing at the way he watched you closely. You watched as he quickly invaded your personal space, his body wedged between your legs, making them spread wider to accomodate his size difference.

"What are you so scared of? Don't you want me?" His hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His knuckles grazed your lower abdomen a couple times, making your heart race.

"I-I do, Toji." Your focus went to his crotch rubbing up against you as he leaned in.

"Yeah, you do?" He purred beneath your ear, allowing his lips to meet the sensitive skin of your neck after.

"Fuck," you whimper. "I do."

"You wet for me?" He asks, moving his lower body enough to make you believe he's just balancing himself, but still giving you the friction that's making you lose your composure.

"Mhm," you hum, breathing erratically as he kisses up the column of your neck, towards your chin.

"Can I check?" He murmurs, nipping at your jawline. You shut your eyes, your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as another blissed out "mhm" leaves you.

His hand slides down your waist, moving towards the center of your stomach where he continues sliding down until his fingers go under your pants' waistband. He feels the elastic band of your underwear, his fingers maneuvering beneath it as well. You gasp when you feel his fingers dip lower until he's tracing your slippery folds. His dick twitches at the amount of arousal drooling out of you.

"You're bad, mama." He sighs, listening to your little breaths as he teases you. How long had you been turned on to be this wet? "Were you gonna keep this from me had I not been so persistent?" His middle and index fingers glide up and down your slit.

You let out a moan when he started rubbing your clit, his rough pads giving you more friction than anything you've ever felt.

"Answer me." His dark, green eyes bore into your closed ones. "Were you gonna get yourself off once I left?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, Toji," you cried out, writhing beneath him. "Didn't wanna tell you. It's embarrassing," you whine.

He chuckles. "That why you were on edge earlier? 'Cause you were on the edge of cumming, untouched?"

You nod, rolling your eyes open to meet his gaze. Your lust-filled gaze made chills run up his spine, the sight borderline sinful. He cups your jaw with his free hand, his grip tight as he stares into your constellation eyes. "Look at me like that again and i'll fuck you 'til you can't see straight. You hear me?" He was fighting the urge to bust his load into his jeans. It was already hard enough having to watch you as you fell apart on his fingers, but now you were giving him "fuck me" eyes, and it got ten times harder.

His threat only brought your orgasm closer. He had never spoken to you that way before. It had your stomach filling to the brim with butterflies, but you responded with a moaned "uh-huh", anyway.

"T-Toji, I'm gonna cum. More, please," you whimpered.

"Aren't you a sensitive little thing? Didn't even have to finger you to make you cum."

"Oh, fuck-" you cry out, cut off by Toji's hand.

"Shh... I know, I know, sweet girl," he coos, his fingers teasing you down at your entrance. "Gonna cum? Make a pretty mess on my fingers, hm?" He mumbles, his lips returning to your neck.

You hum, sultrily. Your arms are stretched above your head, your nails digging into the armrest of the couch. You arch your back off the cushions, loud gasps released into the air when Toji releases his hold on your mouth. You slowly roll your hips into Toji's hand, chasing the friction against your cunt.

"Fuck, baby. You feeling yourself?" His cock is throbbing at the sight of you looking so careless. Your face is aimed up, your lips parted as you release all the sounds of pleasure that you're capable of. His fingers go back up to your clit, the pad of his middle finger rubbing rapidly at the nub. It was driving you insane, how close you were to cumming on his fingers. Your stomach caved with every breath you inhaled and your whole body trembled as you treaded over the edge of your devastingly powerful orgasm.

Toji watched as you writhed beneath him, his lidded eyes taking in your contorted features as you cried out in overwhelming pleasure. He leaned in to kiss up your neck again, really just wanting to be closer to the source of the sounds filling the room. "So fuckin' pretty," he trilled into your jaw. Your soft little grunts reached his ears, turning to whines as you tried to wriggle away from the stimulation. He didn't miss the way your thighs clamped around his torso, signaling that his touch was getting to be too much. "Alright, alright. Had enough?"

You nod, a huff leaving you as he slowly takes his hand out of your underwear.

You sigh after catching your breath, feeling enlightened and satisfied. You giggle when you see Toji's staring at you. "What?"

"It's gonna be my mouth next time." His hands are on your hips, massaging deep circles into the material of your pants. "M gonna taste you on my tongue, and I want all that wetness on my lips and your cum all over my face, instead of my fingers."

"You're so vulgar, Toji," you say, with a smile on your face. You're unaware of how big the hearts in your eyes are when you look at this man.

He sighs as he lays down on you, his body weighing you down. He looks up at you, his chin resting on your chest. "How can you expect any different when you look like hell's favorite sinner when you cum?" He exhales through his nose, thinking of the look on your face as unraveled beneath him. It's now engraved in his mind. His dick could become a huge problem if he thinks about it for too long. "For real, doll, I wanna see that again but with my face between your legs."

You giggle to yourself, wishing the comment didn't have you blushing like you were. Your whole body was heating up.

"You're not gonna run when I get close to you next time, right? Gonna be a good girl for me?" He smirks at the twitch of your thighs around him.

"No, i'll be good. I promise."

"That's right, baby. I'll be looking forward to it," he says before burying his face into your breasts.

[primofate]

[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap

Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.

Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips

Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader

Alhaitham

Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.

"Need something?"

You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.

There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.

"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"

Ayato

Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"

"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.

The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"

Baizhu

Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.

The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.

You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.

"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.

"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.

"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"

Cyno

He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.

"Is something the matter?"

You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"

Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.

He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.

Diluc

Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.

From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.

"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.

"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"

You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.

You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.

"I'll always be here, Diluc,"

Itto

The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.

"Y-Y-Y/N?!"

"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.

"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.

You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".

...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.

Kaeya

Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.

"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.

"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.

"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"

He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.

"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"

He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"

Lyney

"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.

It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.

"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.

By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"

Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"

Neuvillette

Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.

You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.

"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.

If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.

Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?

"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.

"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.

Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.

As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.

He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.

"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.

"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.

"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.

"101 ways to make you scream,"

[verdenz]

HE'S DRUNK AND DOESN'T RECOGNIZE YOU.

FEATURING:⠀⠀Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:⠀⠀Part one for context. Part three.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀MAX VERSTAPPEN

"I won't." He repeated for the third time. His friend glanced at you, feeling partially guilty for not stopping him from drinking more than he should have. "I would never go into a place alone with another woman." Max said, pointing his finger up, and you quickly lowered his hand, trying to avoid drawing more attention.

"I'm sure there are plenty of people happy with the photos they got today." You thought. Your brain barely had time to process what he was saying as you just pushed him inside the house. You said goodbye to his friend and closed the door, turning to see Max already sitting on the edge of the couch, stiff like a child in an unfamiliar place.

"Aren't you going to the bedroom?" He quickly shook his head, his eyes scanning the entire room. You spent five long minutes watching him, but your boyfriend didn’t move from where he was. "Do you plan on staying up all night?"

Max looked at you, shaking his head again. "I'm waiting for Y/N to come get me."

୨୧⠀⠀⠀CARLOS SAINZ

"She..." He sobbed, then fell silent for a few seconds, likely losing his train of thought and unable to continue.

"Who?" You asked, distracting him to keep him quietly seated in the car, no longer trying to open the door or yelling in hopes that his friend would pull him out of there.

"My girlfriend... she's going to kill you." Your boyfriend said, playing with the hem of his shirt. "And then she's going to kill me... She's going to kill the love of her life because of a misunderstanding. It's going to be your fault..."

A low laugh interrupted him. "She won't. I can fight her. Bet I can beat her." You joked.

"No, you can't. I... I'll defend her. I go to the gym, you know?" Carlos murmured, his eyes almost closing as he surrendered to sleep. You thought you'd finally have some peace until you got home, but he suddenly woke up. "I want to get out. Abre la puerta. My girlfriend said I can't trust strangers."

You raised an eyebrow. Although you're not a stranger, it was amusing that he only remembered that after you'd already made it halfway home.

[sukunasteeth]

When Sukuna kisses you, it feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest.

You started out perched on his lap, but by now he's reduced you to a boneless, panting heap in his grasp. His arms supporting you are the only things keeping you from melting against him like liquid lust. You're desperate for a moment of solid ground to catch your breath, but Sukuna is adamant on continuously taking it away from you. His calloused hands inching their way up your shirt, brushing softly against your sides, over your rib cage, skimming the underside of your breasts, all in mesmerization at how soft your skin is.

"'Kuna..." You try to capture his attention, which has been taken by his fixation on how sensitive your ears were to the scrape of his teeth.

You're surprised when he answers with a distracted hum, "Yes, my little doe?"

"I -I need a second." You stutter, your heart is thumping wildly in your chest, despite how intoxicated and incapacitated you feel at his mercy. You were starting to forget how to breathe in his close proximity and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep your head straight with his natural scent acting like a pheromone.

You feel his wicked grin against your neck before you hear it in his voice, "Poor thing. Am I working you too hard? I rarely see you so out of sorts..." 

Sukuna doesn't even try to disguise his amusement at your complete inebriation with his kisses. His tongue presses against the nape of your throat before he follows a line of sweat up to your ear, leaving behind a cold stripe of his saliva against your burning hot skin. He holds you fast when you violently shiver against him, "It's a good look on you."

“Please…” You beg with whatever breath you can conjure for him but it comes out as more of a desperate little whimper. That was Sukuna’s favorite tone of your voice, after all. 

And desperate you were. Sukuna had been devouring you for so long, sucking and nipping and licking at whatever part of your revealed skin interested him. You could feel your legs forgetting how to operate.

You just needed a moment. 

Without his permission, you push away from his chest and manage to get to your feet in front of him. Your legs buckle, but you're able to catch yourself before you fall face first back into him. Sukuna is looking up at you, as kiss drunk as you felt, blinking slowly with a satisfied smile. 

“Give me just one sec-” You’re about to turn away. And then you see it. 

Sukuna had you so entranced with him, had your mind so far away from your body, that you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you had cleanly soaked through your panties on his lap. And there, on that oh-so-comfortable part of his thigh, that had quickly become one of your happy places, was a dark spot on his jeans from your wetness. 

All you could do was stare down at it, mortified. 

Which only has Sukuna following your gaze in momentary curiosity. 

“I-I’M…” You try to catch his attention again with the sound of your voice before his eyes can settle on the new mark, but Sukuna sees it first.

His grin quickly fades and your heart careens into your throat. You feel embarrassment shoot through you like a shot of adrenaline, coloring your already pink face a bright and rosy red. 

The clear solution to the undoubtedly awkward situation is to run, right?

“I’ll be right back-” But you don’t even move an inch before his hand snaps forward and latches onto the front pocket of your (his) hoodie, stopping you in place. 

Your heartbeat thumps in your red-hot ears and you go against every fiber of your being to meet his eyes.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going with my dinner?" The playful lilt of his tone has completely vanished and reveals a deep, dark starvation in its place.

"I work hard for my meals, you know?” 

[sanarsi]

Man’s Love

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel is your neighbor who doesn't hide his feelings for you and won't give up on winning your heart despite your rejections. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 40), smutttt with soft!dom!Joel (exactly how you like him), friends(?) to lovers trope, fingering, unprotected PIV Wordcount: 3,5k An: So again… I’m just a slut, you’re just a slut, we’re happy about it, enjoy bestie xx Music I worked with: OMG What’s Happening - Ava Max

Masterlist

You were happy.

You were fulfilled.

You lacked nothing.

A small house by the ocean, a stable job, friends.

But your neighbor thought differently.

Joel Miller would randomly run into you on his way home from the store at least once a week. Too bad the store was in a completely different direction. And at least once a week he invited you out for dinner, a glass of wine, a walk, and a million other things.

His intentions were clear. He never hid how much he liked you when he moved here. Oh man, he was crazy about you.

On the first day he came with a bottle of the best wine to get to know you. He was handsome, charming, funny and talkative. He definitely didn't miss anything. He even managed to steal one kiss from you. But he wanted something more. He wanted something permanent.

And you? You didn't need problems.

You thought you were too old for puppy love. Your previous relationships always gave you headaches. So why should it be any different with him?

That's why you refused him every time. Every time you told him that nothing would come of it. That you weren't what he was looking for.

But it didn't discourage him even for a moment.

Every few days you would find fresh flowers under your window, a basket of fruit that grew in his garden or colorful seashells. Every time you accepted his gifts with amusement.

Oh, he fucking fell for you. He was in love like a teenager. Even when you pushed him away he couldn't stop smiling. You looked beautiful when you tried to be mad at him because he came to you like a loyal dog again. But you couldn't and always ended up laughing, amused by his stubbornness.

He loved coming to your house and sitting on the wall watching you do ordinary things. How you hang laundry, how you care for your flowers, even how you read a stupid newspaper while ignoring him.

Despite his advances, your relationship was friendly. You sometimes went shopping together in the city. Joel sometimes fixed something in your house. You sometimes brought him sweet baked goods. You met at parties you organized for friends.

Yeah… Joel was a friend.

Even when he visited you just to convince you to like him more than just a friend. Like today. On Valentine's Day.

He stood before you with a bouquet of red lilies, a bottle of wine, and a small gift bag. He smiled broadly when he saw your surprise when you opened the door. Frowning, you looked at him carefully, scanning every inch of his body.

"Joel..." you started, sighing from exhaustion.

"Before you start saying you don't need a relationship," he interrupted you, holding up a dark bottle. "I brought your favorite wine," he said, smiling like an idiot. You blinked a few times, looking from him to the bottle of wine. He was so proud of himself that you couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile a little. "Come on, sweet girl. You can't say no to me," he encouraged you, and you just burst out laughing, shaking your head in amusement.

"Fine," you nodded and stepped aside. His smile only widened as he approached, pressing a bouquet of fragrant flowers into your hands and pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. With a quiet laugh, you closed the door behind him and followed him deeper into the house.

Joel felt at home here. He immediately started bustling around the kitchen, preparing everything he thought was necessary. Humming to himself the song that was playing quietly on the radio, he pulled out two glasses and began preparing snacks from what he found in the fridge. You put the bouquet in a vase and silently admired their intensely sweet scent. Joel always knew which flowers to choose to bring a smile to your face.

Or simply anything he did would bring a smile to your face.

Just like that.

You managed to put the vase on the table in the living room when he had already prepared everything on the terrace. You watched with amusement as he walked back and forth almost in a dance step.

He needed so little to be happy.

The sight of you was enough.

You went out onto the terrace and after a moment the music on the radio got louder. You shook your head and sat down at a small table. You grabbed one olive and popped it into your mouth the moment Joel left the house holding two glasses and an open bottle of wine.

"That thing you call a corkscrew should have ended up in the trash a long time ago" he said lightly and put everything on the table. You leaned back comfortably in the chair raising your eyebrows with a smile.

"Just because you don't know how to use it doesn't mean it's broken" you replied watching as he poured the golden alcohol into half of each glass.

"If you can use it then you're a witch" he said glancing at you before he put the bottle down and handed you one glass.

"You only noticed now?" you laughed under your breath. Joel plopped down in the chair across the table with a sigh. You took a sip of wine, looking out at the waves crashing against the stones.

“Yeah, that would explain why I am crazy about you,” he said, sipping his wine slowly. You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. “You know, all those love spells and stuff,” he shrugged. You reached across the table and smacked his arm. Joel laughed under his breath, moving out of your reach.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath. You took a sip of wine and he bent down, reaching under the chair. You looked at him as he held out a small gift bag to you. You set your glass on the table and glanced suspiciously at the gift and back at him.

“Joel-“

“Yeah, I know. Just open it,” he interrupted you and nodded encouragingly at the bag.

You took the gift, still not convinced by the whole idea. You took out a small decorative box and your gaze immediately fell on Joel. He nodded again encouragingly and took a sip of wine, watching with a small smile. You rolled your eyes and continued until the glint of a thin bracelet made you stop. You stared at the thin chain with a pendant in the shape of your favorite flower. You felt a lump in your stomach as you tried to swallow. It was beautiful. Perfect for you.

You glanced at Joel who was watching you carefully as you took the bracelet out of the box. You looked at it closely, wondering how much money he had to spend on it. Fuckin’ idiot.

"Joel, I can't-"

"Yeah, I know. Let me put it on you," he interrupted you, already kneeling next to you. He took the jewelry from you and gently fastened it on your wrist. His warm touch sent a wave of shivers through your body. He grabbed your hand and looked at how the ornament looked on you before leaning down, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “It’s bad luck to return gifts,” he said with a wink before returning to his seat. You looked at him, unable to say anything.

You looked at your wrist again with the new trinket and wanted to start cursing him for it. Why did he give you such gifts if you kept rejecting him? He didn't gain anything from it.

But you had to admit that you felt warmth in your heart.

A warmth you didn't want to feel.

You defended yourself from him as much as you could and yet somehow he broke through the walls around you. He made you feel like you were the center of his universe. You felt desired by someone. And you were just a human being with human needs and desires.

Fuckin’ Joel Miller.

"Do you like it?" he asked, breaking the silence that had been prolonged by your thoughts.

You smiled fondly and nodded. You finally looked at him. "Yes. Very much" you said which made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

He felt like a stupid teenager around you. And he wasn't going to let that feeling get lost because of your stubbornness.

Because Joel had already learned everything about you. And he knew that the only reason you refused him was fear. Fear that you would give him your time and end up with nothing.

The best way to avoid a broken heart?

Don't let anyone in.

But unfortunately you came across the most stubborn man in the world.

And it was with this stubborn man that you spent half the night, laughing, drinking another bottle of wine and talking about stupid things. It was with this stubborn man that you danced at sunset to radio songs. It was with this stubborn man that you felt like you were seventeen again.

Standing in his arms you let him lead the slow dance. His wide smile making you smile as he told you yet another stupid story.

"Yeah and then she looked at me like I was an idiot" he said and you threw your head back and started laughing. He loved watching you laugh. You looked so radiant then. His arm tightened around your waist.

"I'm not surprised" you said looking at him again. His gaze was so damn warm when he looked at you.

With love.

With love which you forbade him.

He stared at you like you were a work of art.

And only after a while you notice that you were just standing in the middle of the terrace. His arms wrapped around you and the calm music in the background. You gently tightened your fingers on his arm, feeling that he was walking on thin ice.

“Joel-“

"Have I told you how beautiful you look when you're happy?" he interrupted you. You blinked with your lips parted. But the damn wine made you snort under your breath.

"Yeah, three times this week," you said, amused.

"I like it when you're happy with me," he admitted, looking at you with a tender smile.

"You keep making me happy, so there's no other option," you laughed sweetly, and only when you noticed his gaze did you understand what came out of your mouth. You froze with your lips parted.

"I make you happy?" he raised an eyebrow, teasing you. He loved catching you by your words. In moments like these, he often got things he wanted out of you.

"Did you get me drunk on purpose?" you asked, frowning.

"Are you?" he asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes with a wide smile.

"No, but that's not-"

"And you're still happy?" he interrupted you. You looked at him and your smile dimmed a bit. He was serious. And he was looking at you seriously. He waited for your answer. He waited for you to understand.

“Joel, we’ve talked about this so many times. Please.”

“Please for what? To stop making you happy?”

He hit the nail on the head.

You fell silent, realizing how hopeless this all seemed.

That you were the problem.

Not him. Not that he was pushing. Not that he was a pain in the ass.

You.

His hand found its way to your cheek, gently stroking your skin. You looked at him with those big, shiny eyes like a startled deer, and he couldn't help but want to finally cross the line.

"Baby, please," he said softly, sliding his fingers down your jaw to your chin. "I just need one chance." He stroked your chin with his thumb, leaning in a little closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest. "I won't ask for more." He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. Your hot breath bounced off his skin. "One chance," he whispered, nuzzling your nose. You could barely breathe as you watched him intently from so close. "I promise." His lips brushed against yours with every word and then you were gone.

Your eyelids fell and your body stopped resisting his closeness. And he felt it immediately. His lips were on yours in less than a second. He started slowly and gently not wanting to scare you away. His arms held tightly to him not allowing any space between you. But when your hands wrapped around his neck, he allowed his tongue to sneak into your mouth.

You didn't push him away.

So he started kissing you harder.

You gasped into his mouth as his tongue began to dominate yours. He kissed like he was hungry.

And he was.

He was hungry for you like a mad man.

You didn't even notice when he pressed you against the wall, his hands gripping your hips. You moaned into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair. You clenched your fingers around them, trying to return his intense kisses. But you failed.

So his lips moved to your neck. You threw your head back, panting heavily as his tongue left wet marks on your skin and his teeth, bites. His whole body pressed you against the cold wall as his hands began to slide down your thighs, squeezing every inch of your soft skin. He groaned thirstily into your neck as his hands began to roll up your dress so he could get to your underwear. You did nothing to stop it.

His lips collided with yours again, making you moan. His tongue immediately found yours, just like his fingers the elastic of your panties. And he couldn't wait when he finally had you so close.

His hand dove into your panties and his fingers immediately found your wet slit. You both moaned at the same time before his mouth attacked yours again. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as his fingers began to spread the wetness along the length of your pussy. Your knees trembled beneath you as he teased your clit with every movement.

You panted, trying to kiss him back, and you clung to him tighter as his fingers entered you. He rested his forehead against yours, letting you breathe. He watched you as you both panted against each other's mouths as he fucked you with his fingers.

"You're fucking beautiful," he breathed heavily. You looked up from his lips to his eyes, moaning louder as he curled his fingers inside you.

It had been so long since anyone had touched you that it didn't take much to feel your orgasm approaching. You tightened around his fingers and gripped his neck tighter. His lips began to place slow, wet kisses on yours. His cock was already painfully hard when he had you in front of him like this. Your moans sounded even better than in his dreams.

“Joel…”

Oh and his name on your lips made him shiver in his pants. Your fucking voice alone brought him pleasure. He was like a horny teenager who finally got into someone’s panties. But the difference was that now he knew how to take care of a woman.

That's why when you came on his fingers he felt so damn proud. He kissed every moan that escaped your lips before he pulled his fingers out of you, letting your orgasm begin to soak through your panties.

You were already drunk from his touch when he attacked your lips, starting to drag you into the house. You submitted to everything he did, moaning every time you hit each wall, too absorbed in each other. Joel managed to get rid of his shirt before he started unbuttoning your dress. You hungrily responded to his every kiss as your fingers worked to fasten his pants. Finally your dress fell to the floor.

Joel pressed you against the wall and his hands immediately began to explore your bare skin. He embraced your waist with one hand and his other hand found its way to your breast. You moaned into his mouth when he gently squeezed his fingers and his thumb ran over your nipple which immediately hardened under his touch.

You finally managed to unbutton his pants and you were about to plunge your hand into them but then Joel pushed you back and you landed on the soft mattress. You supported yourself on your elbows, panting heavily as he took off his pants and boxers in one move. You slid down his body thirstily.

You fell back onto the bed with a smile and slid your panties off and threw them at him. Joel laughed under his breath as they bounced off his chest and fell to the ground. You bit your lip in excitement as his body finally walled up above yours.

He hummed in satisfaction at the smile you were trying to hold back. He leaned down connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You placed your hands on his cheeks holding him close to you. And you had to admit that it felt so damn good.

You felt his tip slide through your wet slit, making you gasp. And when he slowly entered you, you both broke the kiss, moaning into each other's mouths. Joel rested his forehead against yours, panting heavily as he buried his entire cock inside you. It took him a few seconds to wrap his head around the fact that he was finally inside you before he started moving his hips.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he began to kiss your neck. His cock slowly rubbed against your sweet spot. He groaned as he thrust into you all the way over and over again. His hands slid down to your waist and hips and he gripped them tightly to hold you in place as he began to thrust into you with more energy.

Harder.

Deeper.

Until your legs began to tremble.

You closed your eyes, arching your back as his cock brought you closer to the edge with each thrust. He straightened up, panting heavily, and looked down at you as you arched in pleasure. He ran his eyes down your naked body, feeling like he'd won the fucking lottery. You looked like all of his fantasies came true.

Probably because you were his only fantasy.

His gaze fell on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you.

Oh fuck.

His hips slowed as he began to enjoy the sight of your wet pussy surrounding him perfectly. He growled throatily, stroking his hand over your thighs.

"You look amazing taking my cock like this," he said, making you moan. Not only was he a good fucker, but he also used dirty words. And who was perfect for who here?

His hands gripped your hips again as he sped up his thrusts into you. The air left your lungs and your ragged moans mixed with his soft growls. You clenched around him, feeling the pleasure too intense. And Joel continued to thrust into you like an animal.

“Oh baby I hope you’re close because I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back,” he breathed, watching your face bathed in pleasure.

"Yes, yes" you almost squealed feeling like you were fighting for an orgasm with every movement he made. Joel smiled with satisfaction and leaned down to connect your lips. But the kiss quickly turned into an exchange of moans.

You dug your nails into his skin not knowing what to do with your hands as his cock hit the sensitive spot in your pussy every time. Until finally you felt a wave of orgasm take over your body. You moaned loudly clenching on him hard barely allowing him to move inside you.

"Oh fuck baby," he groaned feeling your orgasm perfectly along the entire length of his cock. And he didn't stop thrusting hard into you, prolonging your pleasure and chasing his own.

Your cunt creamed his cock so hard that the wet sounds could be heard in the room every time he entered you. Until he began thrusting slowly but so hard that the bed hit the wall as he came, moaning loudly. He thrust into you a few more times, coming deep inside you.

Your wet foreheads rested against each other as you both panted heavily. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt your body relax from the weight of your orgasm. Joel leaned down connecting your lips in a soft and slow kiss and you wrapped your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his wet hair.

“One chance,” he whispered against your lips, glancing into your eyes. You fell silent, watching him and pursed your lips as a soft smile spread across yours.

“Okay,” you nodded quietly before his lips crushed yours again.

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[bamjio]

❛ 𝗷𝘂𝗶𝗰𝘆! ❜ ━━ ✿⠀wolverine nsfw headcanonns.

Wolverine x female!reader

warnings !! ━ suggestive content, voyeurism, kinks, mentions of wade n other xmen members, lovesick Logan teehee, specifically Hughs' wolverine.

❛If you could see it from the front, wait 'til you see it from the back.❜

( wtf happened to me this is the fastest update I had probably done ever since WVD came out. )

Start of strong start of tough,

LOGAN HAS A MASSIVE DICK, you've seen it and he knows it. def loves teasing you too, when you give him oral, he wants you to take your time— sometimes. most of the times he's a sex devil, obsessed with seeing your hardworking struggled face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes determined. Logan hates to admit it but he wants to shove his cock down you and seeing your face. won't admit because he's not freaky outside.

gives the best head in the whole dimension, loves seeing you arch, he def knows where your spots are, multi tasking at its finest, fingering and eating you out is definitely something, his only goal is making you either squirt of cum, doesn't matter loves it when you make that sound everytimes you're close. he's 99.9 Selfless when it comes to giving, all he wants is your attention, not caring if his dick exploded from holding it in, deep inside him is a man that def wants to tease and edge you, but he's known to you as a nonchalant man, unless he's desperate — hell definitely be a beast.

did I mention that he's quite rough? not too rough, but perfectly rough. he adores it when tears run out your cheeks begging him to keep on going, although he is naturally rough, he knows his limits, it's like autopilot tbh. puts you to missionary everytime. He's not a lazy man he knows how to move, and his stamina would definitely last up to many hours. An old man with a young energy, how nice is that.

have I mentioned he has deep fantasies? He's the type of boyfriend that won't mention it till you do— he had desires of maybe fucking you in charles' mansion, he doesn't mean in a room, he means infront of his colleague, yknow? but he keeps that fantasy deep behind, Charles knows about his little dream, finds it fascinating. only person he told about it was probably Hank. He also has this predator and prey kink that ONLY works for you, you running for your life and him chasing you down, basically fuck or die type shit— except he'd rather not kill you.

he gets turned on whenever you're training or fighting, doesn't know why but he definitely loves the sweat on your face and the look of distraught, he wonders sometimes if he's okay, wade calls him lovesick because he's like a little puppy following you and finding you very amusing, not to mention he's very obedient too, wade tells him he's a "pup in a big man's body when it comes to y/n" he doesn't deny it, he likes it.

One secret— you two fucked in the mansion and almost got caught, risky but he'd do it again.

Two secrets— he unintentionally told wade that he had thought about him and wade fucking you.

Three secrets— he has pictures hidden, different boxes in different occasions full of your pictures.

HELP, MY PUSSYS' GONE CRAZY!

First post that I felt 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, will make a sfw version of this and will make a wade nsfw version, probably the last time I make nsfw hcs, don wanna go overboard to being 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You��re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away  before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[yawnderu]

Having a bimbo girlfriend is the best thing to ever happen to Simon Riley. Not only does he get to be with someone who looks like an angel— you act like one, too.

“Keep your eyes closed, Si. This thingy can blind you.” You sound fully convinced of it as you apply the skincare over his eyebrows, the pads of your fingers running over his rough skin with a gentleness he's never experienced. “‘S not gonna blind me, bird.” He reassures, yet he still keeps his eyes closed and fully focuses on the sensation of the cool liquid being smeared all over his face, matching with you.

“You don’t know that.” A quiet chuckle comes out of him because he does, in fact, know that none of the ingredients can blind him— he read the bottle in secret.

You finish applying the product on his skin, planting a gentle kiss on his chapped lips before you hum softly, face scrunching up as you feel the dryness of his lips.

“Wait.” There's pure amusement in his eyes as he sees you jog out of the room, coming back not even 10 seconds later out of breath, but with a stick of lip balm in your hand.

“Do this.” You make a kissy face and he doesn't hesitate to copy you, trying his best not to smile as you steal a kiss before starting to carefully apply the lip balm on his dry lips. He has never been taken care of like this— never even dared to dream about it, yet this is his reality now.

“Much better, isn't it?” Simon might as well have died right on the spot and went to heaven with the way you grin up at him, the light above you almost looking like a halo.

It takes a few seconds of staring at you before he's nodding his head, getting up to steal a kiss, a genuine smile on his face as you smack his arm softly and scold him for smearing the lip balm.

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