#He’s very tired and would like a nap now

[aprityormarj]

Leona clubwear ssr fic

Synopsis: Leona, after a very tiring day from spell drive decides to be a clingy cat to his s/o

Tw: clinginess, leona is taller, a bit of possessiveness I guess?, no beta, bad grammar 👍

Author’s notes: yes I wrote an entire fic of leona that’s 1,232 words long while being a jack simp just to mess with @aivy-saur

Leona just wanted to take a nap today. He had to deal with extremely rowdy and uncooperative students in his club today, he was really annoyed with how some of the guys who were so full of themselves weren’t listening to him at all?! Leona made them do double the work out after a horrible practice game because of them. All of those things almost ruined his day, the saving grace for leona was the fact that his number 1 fan was watching.

How could his mood be soured when you cheer him on while watching, wiping his sweat off when he sits beside you to watch his club mates, and offering to get water for everyone while looking all cute like that. He desperately wanted to see his little herbivore again since club hours were over, he even forgot to change clothes.

He spots you not too far away, you were talking to Jack and Duece as they were both working out nearby to train their endurance. You notice jack’s fur suddenly standing up as he looks at something behind you agitated and before you could even turn around two hands touch your shoulders quickly pulling you into their chest, jack calms down and Deuce gets shocked at how fast leona suddenly appeared. You can feel his tail playing in between your thighs to greet you, his strong yet gentle grip on your shoulders, and how you could feel his chest with the back of your head, damp from practice. He combs your hair away in order to leave a kiss on the top of your ear, you can hear tiny groans escaping his throat while all of this happens. “Herbivore… are you busy…?” He sounds so uncharacteristically soft and gentle, you could even say innocent.

Jack and Deuce look at each other awkwardly, as if 2 little kids seeing something they shouldn’t have “um… we’ll just go now… we wouldn’t want to disturb leona…” said Jack, Deuce nodding as they both walk away flustered from what they just saw. You wave to them goodbye and before they’re even gone leona starts to wrap his arms around your armpits to draw you into a closer hug, kissing your jawline this time whilst he rubs his head on your neck. Unfortunately for leona you turn around to tell him how you still have some errands to do, he slouches down to your level and pouts, his tail swaying erratically out of annoyance, you promise him that they won’t take long to finish as you cup his face, which he uncharacteristically again leans into your touch like a clingy house cat. You can see the mess that is his damp hair he he rubs it against you, his cheeks feel surprisingly really soft as they glisten from his sweat, and his his pupils are massive orbs, almost consuming the emerald greens in his eyes, and yet none of this was able to prepare you for what’s gonna happen for the rest of the evening.

You 1st start to walk around campus to return some things with leona’s hand in yours, but he isn’t satisfied enough so it ends up with his hands on your shoulder, leaning in really close whenever you stop walking. Due to how close Leona was he would accidentally make you trip sometimes, but he catches you every time you fall though though, and then he would lift you up a bit to hug you and then place you down shortly after. If you ever tell him off about how he’s way too close, he would just pout and still continue to be super clingy regardless of what you say. If you ever need to take a restroom break, or do any activity that needs you to have your personal space he will begrudgingly let you go, although the moment you’re out of the stall he is back on your shoulders even while you wash your hands he is sticking to you like glue.

Finally when you were done with your errands and was about to go back to your dorm until leona stopped you “stay at my dorm room again… please..?” Well he’s been very adamant on sticking by your side today and also very affectionate, so might as well just say yes to the poor prince’s request. His tail stands up in approval of your decision and happily walks (pushes) you towards his dorm room. When you enter his dorm, the 1st thing he does is hug you, leaning his entire body weight on top of you causing you to fall down on your bed with his on top of you, chuffing and kneading against the bed, you comment on how uncomfortable his hugs were since he was still sweaty. In the current state leona is in right now he is way too lazy to take a bath or get a shirt to change himself, so the smart kitty decides to just take of his shirt, it’s a good enough compromise for him leaving you flustered in the process, he doesn’t really mind since he does find you cute when you’re all flustered like that. The orbs in his eyes grow even more, consuming the emerald colors in his eyes, completely turning round and black. He carries you around his bed in order to adjust both of you better, leaving kisses on your skin while doing so. He places you down gently and hugs you wrapping you with his arms and legs. He gently leaving licks and bites on the skin of your face while chuffing up a storm. He mumbles about how cute his little herbivore is and how much you make him happy, he can’t help but rub his face against your body while making all of the noises that a lion can make. He may not say it but he’s definitely head over heels for you and you alone and this is his way of saying it. You want to sit up in place to get a better view on leona, but instead he tightens the hug you’re in and gets up closely to your ear “stay… mine… my herbivore is mine… and mine alone…” he then grazes his teeth against your ear and chuffs again, chuffs that are only reserved for your ears. He wipes your arms down with his hands, he loves the feeling of your goosebumps, honestly he loves any reaction out of his little herbivore.

Welp I guess you’re trapped in his arms now and I don’t think you can overpower this cat man sadly 🧍‍♀️

When you wake up the next day, he’s still clinging onto you like glue so you can’t really rise up as well until he wakes up. When he wakes up though he noticeably gets a bit embarrassed (though he’s trying to hide it) “Herbivore… I’m sorry about how… clingy… I was yesterday…” he notices your smile and your red tinted cheeks which causes him to smirk and come closer to your ear again in a sensual manner, his tail wiping against your arms “unless you didn’t mind any of it…? I’d be happy to do it again all for my future princess~”

[lazerswordweilder]

I wanna see Danny absolutely insane. Not like. We got too silly insane. Like, pushed past his breaking point, desperately trying to hold on, for the fifth time this week, and it’s Monday.

I wanna see him smile when Dash shoves him into his locker, because he’s not sure what to do. On one hand he’s so done with this, and he knows he could end Dash in a fraction of a second. On the other hand, it was almost reassuring, nostalgic, he remembers when this used to hurt.

I wanna see ghosts and humans alike, go to hurt or bother Danny Fenton Phantom. And have them stop when he turns around, because the look in his eyes is not something they understand nor want to mess with. Lancer saw a weight he thought only characters in books could possibly have to carry, Paulina saw tears and when has anyone ever seen him cry, Vlad saw exhaustion that cuts into your very core but you have to keep going because that’s what’s expected of you, Ember saw grief and pain over something that never happened but could’ve been, Dash saw pain a hundred times worse than anything he’s ever felt, Jazz saw protectiveness of a kingdom who hates him, Wes swears he looked insane.

And Danny? Danny is done with their shit. And he doesn’t swear. He’s so tired of everything, he’s so close to giving up, he is very much not feeling phantastic right now. He’s got more scar tissue than skin, he’s pretty sure everything he owns has at least a little of his blood on it by now, he’s forgotten what feeling okay is like, and he can’t even begin to describe everything else, and he means everything. He’s got half the mind to track down who ever said death was peaceful and make them deal with his life. But he’s a hero. Right?

He knows he’s got duties, the Realms needs a king, Amity needs a protector (both the humans and the ghosts), Danny Fenton needs to go to school. Oh and he’s pretty sure Frostbite is having a panic attack after looking at him which is ridiculous. But still, the stars seem real inviting right now, he wonders if Clockwork would turn back time for him and just let him sleep on the moon for 200 or so years. Probably not. (Clockwork absolutely would’ve). He might just do it anyways. It’s kind of ridiculous how much somethings just look like comfy beds to sleep in for a trillion years to him now, he fell asleep in a snow bank earlier which wasn’t nearly cold enough. But it’s kind of fair Danny supposes, he can’t remember the last time his home really felt like home, and Amity in general is his haunt, but eh, whatever.

Still though, having your enemy worried for you is really something. Like Vlad should comment, Vlad’s the source of a small fraction of his problems! Which is a lot! First of all having to worry about another source of constant attacks, having to try and convince his parents that Vlad is so clearly evil, having to check up on Dani and also make sure Vlad isn’t trying anything like that again, and not to mention the whole mayor of the town he lives in thing.

Okay this kind of got off track. But my point is, I want it to be too much, instead of somehow managing to survive it all and getting help, Danny gets pushed off the edge (and can’t get out) and he just goes crazy, he breaks down right in the middle of school over a minor inconvenience, laughing then sobbing then screaming then wailing for ancients knows how long. Then he flies off somewhere and continues to breakdown for a while, then he returns to his life like nothing happens, but it did.

That was it.

He can’t be pulled back now. You had your chance. You all had so many chances. And now he’s lost it for good. And you all deserve it.

He’s not going to apologise for punching Dash through a wall, he’s not going to apologise for whatever he did in that little blacked out period of time, he’s not going to apologise for taking a nap in the observatory and hissing and attacking all the tourists and everyone else, he’s not going to apologise for dissecting his parents, he’s not going to apologise for making Vlad regret it, he’s not going to apologise for making the ghost writer eat a book, he’s not going to apologise at all.

You let him get like this. He doesn’t want to shift the blame. But what was he supposed to do? No. Oh no. Don’t try to explain. This is all your fault. And he’s tired of pretending he’s fine. And he’s tired of helping. Because you lost that a while back.

You all don’t even know how dead you are to him, he had a little regret when it came to Sam and Tucker and Jazz, and that’s why they’re alive right now. Because they did all they could, well, not all they could, but that was because he asked them not to tell. Maybe he shouldn’t off.

-

All hail the high king Danny Fenton Phantom. The king who never stopped crying.

[somethingsomethingwords]

Hello hello hello!!! This was born because I needed more Nando being besotted and Lance getting some deserved rest, no other reasons. Thank you for reading. Enjoy 💜.

Fernando was starting to feel some not so vague sense of annoyance at himself.

He and Lance were supposed to go on a date, the first one in a while, because their lives were chaotic and busy as hell.

They were both in Canada, Lance staying home, relaxing after a rough start of the season and some previous commitments, while Fernando was there for some sponsor event that absolutely required his presence, not at all having begged for something to do in Canada, granting him an excuse to be near the other man.

But he must have prayed a little too hard, because not only the event had run later than programmed, but it was followed by a long wait in the car due to the heavy traffic.

While he was sitting in the car, he started making a mental list of all the things he would have to do to make it up to Lance.

The young man had been so happy about finally having some time off together. Despite being visibly tired, he had made some plans, and the promise of more to come once they were back home.

It was strange to think about a manor in a forest as a home for Fernando, but it wasn't home, not really, just like his own house in Monaco wasn't. It was Lance that made every single building that they were in a home.

Love-safety-protection.

But right now, he had to think on how to apologise, because Lance must have been mad as hell.

Usually, when Fernando was late, Lance would write him a text every 10 minutes until he arrived. It was his way of annoying him and still making sure he knew he cared.

Now, it had been radio silence the whole evening. He prayed Lance would let him in, even if just to take a change of clothes.

When he finally arrived, he parked the car and went to the front door.

It was strange, because it was getting dark, but he couldn't see any of the lights on.

He started feeling worried. What if Lance was so mad he left? What if he fell and knocked himself out?

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

First things first, he turned on the lights, and he was going to scream Lance's name, when he finally saw the Canadian.

He was lying on his very comfy sofa, asleep and without his shirt on, because on his chest was napping a peaceful looking blonde baby, thumbs in her mouth, wrapped in a blanket, that he recognised as Lance's favourite, and protected by Lance's arm around her. Her cheek rested on his naked skin, seeking his warmth and lulled by his heart beat.

Oh.

Oh.

This tender moment, the softness of niece and uncle bundled together and asleep in the safety of a house Lance promptly opened to Fernando, it was getting to him.

He could almost see Lance with another baby, their hair brown as their eyes, grins mischievous and big smiles, crawling slowly on this same parquet, then running on some sandy beach, speaking fast english then spanish then french then italian, their pale skin easily turned red by the sun.

He could see them starting karting, or hockey, or maybe wanting nothing to do with sports.

He could see them graduating, moving out, having a family of their own, while he and Lance grew old and grey, happy and satisfied and together.

Together. It seemed impossible, but maybe it wasn't, after all.

The thoughts of a home somewhere quiet, a ring and a child filled his mind, and he softly smiled at a future now lying sleeping on a couch.

At that exact moment, the baby girl started waking up, moving her little arms and softly whining.

He could see Lance starting to wake up as well and decided to intervene. He smiled at the baby, picking her up and gently rocking her. He bent over his lover, and left a kiss in his hairline.

"Keep sleeping cariño, I got her" he whispered, melting at the sight of Lance relaxing once more and mumbling something along the lines of "safe with you".

He rose up and walked to the kitchen. There was already a bag for the baby full of clothes and diapers and baby bottles.

"Are you hungry, mi amor, or you didn't agree with waking up, uh? Your uncle is the same, don't worry" he said, while waiting to understand what she needed: that was pretty clear when she put her whole fist in her mouth.

"Hungry it is. Just give me five minutes, and don't eat your hand" he laughed softly, before sitting her on the high chair Lance had stressed over while buying.

He quickly heated up the milk, making sure it wasn't too hot before feeding it to the girl.  She hungrily took it, and made her way through it, almost finishing it all, before pulling away.

Fernando took her up, and started walking, gently tapping her back until she burped. He then cleaned her up, and returned to the living room.

The moment her eyes were on Lance, the baby tried to reach for him.

Fernando giggled and re-wrapped her in the blanket, depositing her once again on his chest.

Instinctively, Lance put his arm around the baby, and their breaths soon synchronised.

Fernando was left once again the only one awake. He decided to wait for Lance to wake up, sitting on the armchair near his head, just at touching distance. He started passing his hand through the younger man's hair, and was rewarded by a deep sigh of happiness.

Date night could wait, when they had a baby to take care of and some well deserved rest to look forward to.

[padawansuggest]

Wooley: *wanders up to Obi-Wan with armor that’s absolutely covered in tape* Do you like my new armor?

Obi-Wan: Wow. It’s really nice.

Wooley: Thanks. *leaves again*

Obi-Wan: *turns to Cody* See, this is why we never have tape.

Cody: *laying on a workout mat half asleep* I watched it happen and said nothing.

Obi-Wan: *trying not to fall asleep himself* Those would be fighting words if I were more awake.

Cody: I know.

[casiavium]

controversial opinion but I feel like causing problems on purpose. I know Ghirahim is the interesting one and normal people multiship him or focus on his character but I just do not care about him like that <3 I am here for ghiraLINK zeLINK whoever you're shipping him with x LINK. skyward sword Link (and skyward sword ONLY 😤 thee first Link if Hyrule Historia hadn't rewritten history 😡) is my blorbo 💕❤️💘🥺💖😩💕❤️😫🩷💖💞 and Ghirahim is just some guy

[chryzure]

chrysi’s obviously distraught and anguished over losing azure over and over again. it’s frustrating!!! their curse still isn’t broken!! and she still has to lose him!! and it destroys her every time!! but she also knows how to grieve over him because she knows in her heart that she’ll see him again regardless. now. if she lost jacks, i don’t know what would happen. a lot of people would die probably.

[bayjaruchel]

Underneath The Strobe Light

－－－

Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

－－－

You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces. 

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie. 

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically. 

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined. 

However— needing and wanting are two very different things. 

And you want. So, so much. 

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch. 

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel. 

World News Now? 

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences. 

Yeah, no. 

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way. 

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway. 

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips. 

It couldn't be anyone else. 

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly. 

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest. 

"Hey," you offer. 

"Hi," he obliges. 

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?" 

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes. 

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest." 

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls." 

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously." 

"And yet … " 

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine." 

"Fine?" 

"Fine." 

You don't want to let the silence set in. 

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay." 

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you." 

"Asshole." 

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?" 

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too." 

"Oh, really?" 

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor." 

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later." 

He's almost cheeky when he speaks. 

"It's life-changing." 

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict." 

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?" 

"Pretty much, yeah." 

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—" 

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—" 

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder." 

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.  

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh. 

"It's getting really late." 

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?" 

"Are you gonna head home?" 

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like— 

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you. 

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—" 

"It's not." 

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city. 

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual." 

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring. 

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual." 

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before: 

"Why don't you stay?"  

Your own breath stutters in your chest. 

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself. 

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't." 

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—" 

"Why are you here, anyway?" 

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—" 

"It's not!" You exclaim. 

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice. 

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—" 

You stop yourself. 

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently. 

Might as well, huh? 

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead. 

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes. 

Then: 

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense. 

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters. 

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less. 

"Yeah?" You dare to ask. 

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes. 

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him. 

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor. 

You reach out. 

He lets you lace your fingers through his. 

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should. 

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely. 

"... Can I?" 

His reply is almost instantaneous. 

"Please."  

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead. 

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit! 

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere. 

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you. 

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise. 

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips. 

He moans.  

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part. 

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—" 

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay." 

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more. 

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his. 

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone. 

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans. 

"Should I—" 

"Yeah—" 

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least. 

All you want to do is keep going. 

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt. 

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—" 

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?" 

  "Yes —" 

"You want me to take 'em off?" 

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure. 

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down. 

"Go on," you encourage. 

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—  

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur. 

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you. 

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—   

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you. 

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—" 

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs. 

  "Mike —" 

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position. 

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"  

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—" 

"Oh —" 

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied. 

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you. 

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down. 

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand— 

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist. 

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you. 

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now. 

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck. 

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity. 

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck." 

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut— 

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts—  you swear you hear him whimper .  His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth. 

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him. 

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "  

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum." 

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him. 

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down. 

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face. 

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on." 

"Yeah, okay." 

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail. 

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head. 

"Thank you," he mumbles. 

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet. 

"For what?" 

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess." 

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile. 

"You're welcome." 

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep. 

[angelltheninth]

Genshin Men + It's Getting Harder to Sleep Without You

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Thoma, Childe, Dottore, Pantalone, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, insomnia, kissing, cuddles, tea, naps, hurt/comfort, reunion, slight angst, purring (for Nauvillette and Zhongli)

A/N: I know I shouldn't say sorry for the lack of content lately but turns out that a novel takes a lot out of you. The good news it that it's almost done!

Kaeya falls asleep pretty easily on most nights on his ship, it's only in the last few weeks that he's had trouble. Staying up will make him sloppy so he would take a few walks outside under the sky and find himself thinking of you. This helped him sleep but only served to make him miss you more. Maybe the solution is to bring you along more often, then he can hold and kiss you every night, no more daydreaming for him.

Diluc has never had an easy time sleeping and it's always worse when he doesn't have you to hold. He would toss from one side of the bed to the next, eventually sighing in defeat and fully waking up until the next day. His tiredness was obvious and you weren't gonna have him falling asleep standing. A nap seemed like a good solution but he demanded you sit in his lap and cuddle him. Despite sleeping in a chair it was the best nap he's ever had.

Thoma sleeps like a baby after a long day... usually. For some reason it feels like something's been missing lately. No matter what he couldn't figure it out, his routine was the same. The only thing that he could think of was... oh, those late, very intimate nights with you. Were you the key? He wasn't sure but it was worth a try. You were like a big blanket on top of him, nuzzled against his chest. Just what he needed.

Childe forces himself to have a good sleep because otherwise it would get in his way of getting stronger. But lately he can't seem to sleep for long periods of time if you aren't there, which is troubling for his missions. To make up for lost time he sleeps in your bed every night after, hogging all your attention, his face firmly pressed against your chest and arms around you like you'll vanish at any moment.

Dottore tells himself he only needs a few hours of sleep every night. It was like that before he started letting you stay in his bed. After that he can't even get a few hours without your warm, most of the time naked, body laying against his. He will drink tea to make himself fall asleep by force, he did this many times before you saw him look all groggy and grumpy one night with a steaming cup in his hand. You took him by the arm and told him he needs to rest that dangerous brain of his, or else you won't ever sleep with him again.

Pantalone can only get a really good sleep if he's kissed you goodnight. Your kiss, gentle, soft and loving, is like the best sleeping medicine to him. Truly he's tried everything else and the moment he started kissing you one night when he was feeling frustrated he knew he found the solution to his insomnia. Now he just needed to make sure you're willing to make out for a little while before going to bed. An easy task seeing how you practically jump his bones after he comes home.

Neuvillete used to love sleeping with the sound of rain against the window. Yet now every time it rains it's due to his bed being too cold, too empty without you in it. He's gotten so used to you combing your fingers through his hair and smelling your sweet scent that now he's unable to rest otherwise. Only when you kiss him and tell him you're back to visit does the rain stop falling so fast, instead becoming a pleasant backdrop as he sighs, purrs and plants tired kisses on your exposed skin.

Wriothesley has a habit of late night workouts to burn his extra energy. Not necessary as much now that he's in a relationship with you, which is nice but messes with his routine. One that he's had for a very long time. Lately you've noticed him flexing his fists whenever you'll be separated for a time, but he will deny it if you bring it up. No, he won't say anything when you get home, just wrap his arms around you from behind and kiss your shoulder, his body shaking with all that pent up energy mixed with a lack of sleep. And only you can help with both.

Zhongli doesn't mind lack of sleep but he knows you do and he knows you're awake when he's awake. Therefore he decides to fix that by sleeping together with you when you stay over. It felt nice, really nice, too nice and he finds himself wishing for it more and more often. So much so that it becomes his only way of getting deep sleep, the rest are more like power naps. You can't complain either, the sounds of the content rumbling within his chest is very soothing to listen to while you sleep.

[lsuyia]

❝𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑❞

A/N - ngl i literally pulled this out my ass at 11 am since i rlly needed to start posting on my tumblr more, pls request fic ideas!

relationship is established! also fem!reader

MDNI

ᡣ𐭩

satoru gojo, just seems like the the type of person to randomly be scrolling on instgram,— barely finding interesting and find a video of a baby.

The baby could be doing anything, laughing, giggling, saying its first word,—and like fucking magic will automatically text you about it, spam calling you

it all just started as one simple cute video that satoru saw, making his baby fever go through the roof.

One fucking video, was all it took.

You would get home from work, wanting to take a nap, oh but here he comes, bending you over on the kitchen table, making your legs tremble, just so he can try to get you pregnant.

“Spread wide open f’me, yeah?”

You started to wonder what was going on when one day he magically appeared when you were showering saying he wanted to shower with his beautiful girlfriend, which you knew he was lying straight through his teeth.

Few minutes later, he has you pinned against the shower wall, going at an ungodly pace bruising your cervix in the process with every thrust as he smiles seeing breathless, flustered face.— which some how always seemed to keep him hard.

“Just a little longer for daddy?”

You automatically knew when he said that something was going on, and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

For days straight, satoru would always have you bend over, legs up, on the floor,on the wall, in the bed, in the car fucking you dumb until he finally came inside you.

Everytime.

At this point you were getting concerned that you might actually get you pregnant.

So, you decided to finally open up about the whole dilemma, you couldnt keep going on like this.

“toru baby?” You called out to him after minutes thinking about if you should actually do this. “coming.” He said back as his light footsteps treaded across the living room before finally appearing in-front of you before he sat beside you. “yeah honeybun?” He softly spoke to you while his hand traveled to your thighs, squeezing at the plush.

“I wanted to talk to you about something..” You trailed off at the end, which in gojo’s eyes sounded pretty serious to him. His head immediately turned to look at you looking at you concerned. “Do you think we could like…—calm down with the sex?”

You spoke softly to him not even looking at him out of pure embarrassment of the situation. The silence was so loud after you spoke to him,— until he finally casually spoke back to you“yea baby thats fine, if you wanted to calm down you could’ve told me earlier.” He said with a shrug seeming like the situation didn’t affect him at all.

Oh but, it very much did.

In his eyes, It sounded like you didnt want to have a child with him, which drove him absolutely insane.

The constant sex ban worked for a full month until he was back at it again.

You couldn’t even take off your shoes without him touching your nipples through your clothes, just to turn you on and get you into bed with him.

One thing lead to another and you and him getting into a heated argument in your shared bedroom.

“Gojo, what is up with you? I cant even walk into the fucking house without you trying to finger me!” you exclaimed practically yelling at him. Your attitude towards him at him caught in a dumb daze. You were starting to get tired of the constant sex every day.

He was yelling back before but now he was silent as he stood in front of you not speaking, you rarely ever called him last name which let him know you were pretty serious about the whole ordeal.

He couldn’t keep his need for you under wraps for any longer.

“Honeybun, I want a baby.” He said to you, as his light blue eyes locked with yours.

You were honestly shocked at him, he wanted a baby? The only word you could even speak was

“what?”

“honeybun, I want a baby with you.” He leaned towards you cupping your face as he planted tender kisses.

“I want to see you and me mixed together, I wanna see both of us go through mother and fatherhood, I want to see all of you honeybun.” He said grabbing your hands interlocking them with his. He was really genuine and heartfelt about the whole baby fever nonsense.

You were still in slight shock, but you had a small thought about the idea of you and satoru’s kid still fresh in your mind at the moment

—

Needless to say, you finally found out why gojo was acting crazy all those months ago

You sighed watching television with your pregnant belly while gojo had his arms wrapped around you and his head lightly resting on your stomach, careful not to hurt you at any point

“Their going to be so cute.”

he hummed giving your tummy a tender kiss.

[alexthetrashyracoon]

To be honest, at first you weren’t one hundred percent sure if Simon would be the right man for you, Simon was the complete opposite from you, he was organized and had a strict routine which he had from his background in the military. You were constantly improvising and try to get shit done.

But the moment you accidentally stumbled into the living room, seeing your seven year old daughter Cara, sitting in his lap and painting his nails in bright pink nail polish.

“Mhm…” you hear her mumbled, scratching her hair as she finishes to paint his thumb, half his nail is still naked, some of his fingertip is actually drenched in color, but she does it with passion. “Nope! Unicorn Pink isn’t yours!”

“I told you, little princess,” Simon chuckles and holds his hand up to look at the painted nails in the sunlight that streams inside. “I would say… let us try Dolphin Blue, yeah?” He grins as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

You feel like you were in heaven as you watched the scene unfold

Your daughter agrees and slips out of his lap, running past you without paying attention and almost falling due to the stone floor being slippery and she wearing fuzzy socks. But she can catch herself and hurry into her room.

“How was work?” Simon asks and stands up from the couch he’s sitting on, careful to not make a mess with his nails and the open bottle of nail polish, Simon puts the lid back on it to keep it from drying out too quickly.

“We had a very fun day.” Simon smiles at you, taking the worry from your shoulders. At first you weren’t sure if this would work out, Simon alone with Cara, it would be the first time without you being there. But it seemed it worked out in the end.

“We went to the Zoo, she is now obsessed with otters. We grabbed McDonalds on the way home, she had her nap. So… you can sit back and relax.” He grabs your face in his big hand, rubbing his pink painted thumb over you lip before leaning down to greet you in his own way, catching your lips in an open kiss, breathing new life into your tired body after your stressful work day.

“Is it too early to ask for you to marry me?” You giggle lovingly and wrap your arms around his midriff and burry your face in his chest. Simon huffs out a laugh and pats your head. “I’ll ask you in three months but you have to act surprised then.” He grinned and you cannot not laugh at his proposal.

“Got it!” You daughter announces when she returns and grins up to you two. “Have you seen Daddy’s new nails? They will look much better in Blue!” She grins and walks back to the couch.

Simon is silent for a moment and you think that he will leave now that your daughter called him Daddy. But he surprises you. “See, I have to marry you now, she loves me. Can’t break her little heart now, can I? Also, her other parent is kinda hot.” He whispers in your ear before following Cara onto the couch to let her continue her manicure on his rough but gentle hands.

[shinuko]

promise ring

#: tattoo artist boyfriend!geto, fluff, gn!reader, implied college au, gojo cameo

wc: 1.4k

tw/cw: unusally suggestive (my brain was in the gutter…), the f word (f*ck, a couple times), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart)

“ya like it up there?” geto chuckles, setting his book down above his head. he’s lying on his back, using his hands as a pillow, as he watches you. your legs are straddling his waist and you’re tracing the tattoos that decorate his chest. you hum, curling your fingers to scratch softly at his skin. “mm…” he groans, “mercy, baby, they’re healed but still a little… mmh… tender...”

“yeah?” you tease, letting your fingers slide lower down his abdomen, “then what about here?” you’re inching closer to his waistband when he flips you over, caging you underneath him, his hand pulling you close from the small of your back. his gaze drops to your lips and he licks his hungrily. 

“fuck around and find out,” he grins, “you fucked around, so now you get to find out.” you didn’t get a chance to retort as geto quickly closes the space between you, trapping your mouth with his and hands wandering every part of your body. he’s lifting your shirt, the tantalizing skin of your stomach peeking through, and trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck, collarbone, and then chest, looking up at you before continuing any further. “this okay, sweetheart?” he presses a kiss against your stomach, “do you want me to stop?”

your fingers find his hair, keeping his head in place, and you arch your back, chasing the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again. “no,” you breathe, “keep going.” too caught up in the pleasure rippling across your body, you don’t register the sound of the door unlocking.

“what the fuck- suguru, why didn’t you- ohhh, i see… nevermind! carry on!” gojo quickly turns on his heel and walks out, the door slamming shut behind him. geto lets his head fall into the crook of your shoulder, sighing when you leave a few comforting strokes on his hair, before heaving himself up to retrieve his roommate. after he leaves, you sit up, fixing yourself, and bring your knees up to your chest, waiting for their return. 

“honestly, satoru, why do you have a phone if you don’t even use it?” you hear geto grumble as he unlocks the door. 

“i’m sorry! i just didn’t see it! hey y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever… sorry ‘bout that, baby,” he says, sitting down beside you, “looks like we got ourselves a guest.” he glares pointedly at gojo, who crosses his arms in response and sticks out his tongue at geto. 

“this ‘guest’ also happens to pay half of the rent here, you know,” gojo huffs, muttering, “i should’ve stayed in the library longer…”

“yes you should’ve, why didn’t you?” 

“because i was getting hungry and tired,” he shoots back, “anyways, let’s get takeout. what would you like to eat, y/n?” 

“oh, uh, how about sushi?”

“i want ramen.”

gojo hums, “okay, sushi it is. sprite okay with you, y/n?” tapping away at his phone, gojo quickly finishes putting in the order and rises from his spot on the couch. “i ordered it, and it's gonna be 30 minutes. please keep the noise to a minimum… i’m gonna take a nap, wake me up when it’s here.”

geto scoffs, rolling his eyes, as you laugh. the door closes behind gojo with a soft click. geto pulls out his ipad, opening the application he uses to sketch tattoo designs. you lean your head on his shoulder, peeking at the screen, and look at his drawings—this one looks to be a spine tattoo.

“is that for you?”

geto sighs, “for a client. he wanted something symbolic, has something to do with his girlfriend or something like that…”

you notice the wrinkles forming from his furrowed brows, “hm... so, what are you thinking about?”

“...tattoos based on relationships are dangerous,” he murmurs, adding more lines to his design, “and if things go wrong, it gets very difficult. i don’t understand why they would do that to themselves. don’t you think it’s stupid?.”

“i think it’s pretty sweet actually,” you say, “you’re making that conscious decision even while knowing the consequences. pretty telling about their determination and loyalty, don’t you think?”

geto hums, still touching up the design, “...if you say so, baby.”

—

“feel free to talk about something. it might help with the pain.” geto smiles sympathetically at the man lying down in the chair. 

“what… would i even talk about?” the man asks through gritted teeth. 

geto wipes away at the excess ink, examining his work, “what about why you’re getting this tattoo? you said it had something to do with your girlfriend?”

some of the pain seems to disappear from his face, and a shy smile stretches across his lips: he’s obviously lost in thought about his girlfriend. “it’s a reference to one of those k-dramas that she’s been watching lately. before we got serious, we were watching this one called ‘guardian’ something… the title is too long for me to remember,” he chuckles, “but the flower the guy gives the girl—buckwheat flowers—it means ‘lover,’ and it got me thinking about my relationship with her. and it just hit me, like, it’s her. i want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“buckwheat flowers…” geto murmurs softly, “they mean ‘lover,’ you say?”

“yeah. at least according to the drama they do. didn’t really google it to check. and so that’s why i wanted to get that bouquet tattooed on me. it also has her favorite actor, so naturally she really loves the show too.”

“i see…” geto stops working on the tattoo completely, “i know i already asked you this before we started, but are you really sure about this tattoo? what if… things go wrong? it’s not too late, i could improvise the design right now and get you something that you might be happier with in the long run.” 

the man blinks, “no, but i understand your concern. it must be frustrating to spend hours on tattoos only for it to become meaningless the next day…” geto stays silent, staring at the quarter-finished tattoo, so the man continues, “i love her, and i’m choosing her. you know that ring ceremony thing that those engineer people have? how the ring is supposed to remind the engineer of their obligation or something like that? i want the tattoo to be like that. i want it to remind her that i’m choosing her and that i’m promising her my forever, and i want to remind myself that she’s who i want and that the thing we’ve built together is worth it for me.”

“i… never thought of it like that,” geto admits, picking the pen back up and preparing to start work again, “should i continue?”

“...how about a 5 minute break?” the man asks, tone hopeful, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

geto laughs, “you got it.”

—

“hey, what’s this?” you grab at geto’s hand, peering at his latest tattoo, “a line?”

“a band,” he corrects, “got a little bored at the shop today, so i just did it.”

you look up at him quizzically and he shrugs. it was a simple black stripe that went around his ring finger. flipping over his hand, his palm facing you, you continue to study the tattoo, when your eyes widen at your newest discovery. “suguru…” your voice comes barely above a whisper, and a hand comes up to cover your mouth, “my initials?”

geto glances away, cheeks flushing, as he scratches at the back of his head sheepishly, “yeah, i uh… yeah.” 

“weren’t you the one who said that people who tattoo something of their partner’s are a different level of idiotic?” you say,  quirking an eyebrow and a playful smile curling the corner of your mouth. 

geto hid his face in his other hand, “don’t remind me...”

you thumb the tattoo thoughtfully, “were you thinking about me?”

“i’m always thinking about you.”

you smile at that, meeting his steady eyes, “when you did it, i mean.”

“i don’t think that changes my answer,” geto says, raising an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

you pretend to glare at him, straightening up and crossing your arms over your chest. “...just shut up and kiss me already,” you tell him, and he obliges immediately, pulling you in close and kissing your lips sweetly. coaxing your mouth open, he turns his head to deepen the kiss. he presses his forehead against yours when he pulls away, your lips parted still as you catch your breath.

“my forever,” he tells you, voice barely audible, but you can still hear him clear as day, “it’s yours.”

you smile, “i know.”

he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close, and rests his head on your shoulder, “and your forever is mine.”

“it is.”

koi's notes: okay but did they get the sushi though??? 🧐🧐 anyways dedicated to @omgeto and a huge thank you to emp and mothe (@planetxiao) because i love and appreciate y'all so very much

[verstappen-cult]

# IN A WORLD OF BOYS, THEY’RE GENTLEMEN | MV1 & CL16

summary: people always like to jump into conclusions and you are the internet’s newest victim, the ‘slut playing with two boys’. little do they know, there’s more to the story.

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader x charles leclerc. content warning: kaia gerber as fem!reader, cursing, toxic fans, tiny bit of angst because i like to make them suffer, f1 grid because they need their own warning. inspired in the song slut! by taylor swift.

# INSTAGRAM

Liked by user01, f1wagsnews and 152,840 others

paddockgossip Max Verstappen and a mysterious girl spotted in Monaco this afternoon. This is the second time we’ve seen them in a span of two weeks. We still don’t know who she is, but they seem pretty close. Is Max Verstappen finally taken?

View all 9,738 comments

user01 not paddockgossip calling max’s childhood friend a ‘mysterious girl’ loool

user02 she’s been getting so much attention ever since they started dating

user03 we don’t even know if they’re actually dating

user04 i’m sure i’ve seen her before 🤔

user05 that’s because you have! she was seen with charles leclerc like a month ago but no one talks about it bc they haven’t been seen together after that user06 she’s friends with max AND charles????

user07 is this really max wearing non redbull merch???

user08 the girlfriend effect is real user09 ffs we don’t know if they’re dating

user10 no one’s asking the important question here: who is she?? do we have an instagram, twitter, something????

user11 she’s @/yourusername user12 no way she’s THAT pretty

Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 63,734 others

yourusername tummy hurts don’t talk 2 me

View all 9,738 comments

user13 so this is max’s new girlfriend?

user14 shes one of us.

user15 SHE LIKES MAX VERSTAPPEN AND LANA DEL REY? SHE’S JUST LIKE ME FR

user16 and she has stomach issues too. it’s like looking at myself in a mirror

charles_leclerc but i was omw with some goddies, what do i do now?

yourusername tummy don’t hurt anymore 🥺

user17 i didn’t know charles and y/n were that close

user18 girl haven’t you seen the photos? user17 WHAT PHOTOS

maxverstappen1 i won’t say i told you so but i told you so.

yourusername you’re no fun at all

user18 oh to be y/n and have not one but two formula 1 drivers flirting with me in the comments

# TWITTER

# INSTAGRAM

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 135,767 others

yourusername book nerds! 📚 we have some really exciting changes coming for our book club in the next couple of weeks — but in the meantime, i want to share that the incredible @/lauradern will be joining us to talk about “honey, baby, mine”, a collection of conversations between laura and her mom… grab a copy and join us next thursday!

View all 12,658 comments

ana_d_armas This is amazing! 👏👏 can’t wait to join you and know more about this amazing book.

user19 Reading now!

user20 is that-is that really max verstappen?

user21 max verstappen? like as in formula one champion max verstappen? THAT ONE?

user22 what is max doing with her?

user23 do u think he knows about what’s going on with her and charles? think about your gf cheating on your face with your so called ‘friend’ user24 he has to know otherwise that’s pretty sad. user22 think about your gf cheating on you with your friend and having to see that friend every weekend… that’s so fucking awkward!

user25 where is charles? you got tired of him already? 😂

redbullracing You said he was gonna join your book club but all I see is Max napping. Bad. Very bad behavior.

yourusername sorry admin i tried!

user26 i need an explanation, like i would settle for anything at this point i just wanna know what is happening with them

user27 stop freaking out! they’re probably just friends

user28 yeah right nobody believes that

Liked by user29, francisca.cgomes and 254,122 others

paddockgossip New photos of Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N out and about in Barcelona. There are multiple witnesses that saw the couple ‘very cozy, they couldn’t stop touching each other’ inside the restaurant — this comes after the pictures of Y/N with Charles Leclerc kissing on his yatch just a week ago. We don’t know what is happening, who is cheating on who, but we do not support this kind of behavior.

View all 19,767 comments

user29 this is disgusting

user30 what is this chick playing at?

user31 oh shut up you all. you wish you were her.

user32 WHAT IS GOING ON WHY IS NO ONE SAYING SOMETHING ??? user33 probably because this is bullshit

user34 you don’t know anything. is actually so fun seeing you all losing your minds over this.

user35 I NEED ANSWERS

user36 they look good together ngl

francisca.cgomes 😂

user37 kika what does this mean

user38 they’re sick

user39 she’s jumping from one driver to another it wouldn’t surprise me if the next one is lando.

user40 at this point i think she would pretty much crawl into anybody’s bed

user41 she’s just looking for fame

user42 that’s what i’m saying! just look at her followers now, she gained like 100k user43 oh i hate her so much

Liked by user44, wags_news and 534,665 others

paddockgossip Well, well… We really thought we wouldn’t get any more news about the chaotic mess between Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen & Charles Leclerc, so, we were a little surprised to see Charles’ latest instagram story (second slide) where he tagged Y/N! It’s a beautiful picture but then we have Y/N’s story: a conversation between her and Max Verstappen. So, what do you think is happening here?

View all 25,736 comments

user45 OH MY GOD LOVE OF MY LIFE?????

user46 are they-are they soft launching their relationship?

user47 nah it’s mpossible these boys don’t know y/n is playing with them

user48 oh bestie that is so not what’s happening here

user49 I KNEW IT BUT NO ONE BELIEVED ME

user50 what the actual fuck

user51 she’s such a slut

user52 she’s cheating and she doesn’t care. iconic

user53 i’m gonna throw up

user54 they need to get out of there asap

user55 SHES DATING BOTH OF THEM

user56 OH MY FUCKING GOD SHES DATING BOTH OF THEM. SHES DATING LESTAPPEN

Liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername you really thought you knew it all, uh?

View all 886,728 comments

maxverstappen1 loves of my life.

liked by author and charles_leclerc

user57 WHAT THE FFFFFFFFFF

charles_leclerc my pretty girl and pretty boy.

liked by author and maxverstappen1

user58 THEY ARE DATING??? THE THREE OF THEM??

carlossainz55 FUCKING FINALLY.

user59 LESTAPPEN IS REAL WTF

lilymhe i love you all so much. 🩷

pierregasly you can finally stop moaning to me about wanting to be public. i was just about to commit murder.

user60 i never thought i would see the day where charles and max would be kissing

user61 not only that but also dating user62 in a poly relationship*

francisca.cgomes my favorite throuple. 💜

user63 this is so NOT what i was expecting

landonorris can you adopt me?

oscarpiastri me too, please.

user64 the fifth pic??? i also wanna kiss both of them pls

redbullracing Can we celebrate now? 🥺

scuderiaferrari My house? 10PM?

alex_albon this is such a surprise to me. i’m shocked.

danielricciardo MY PARENTS. 🤩

user65 look at that last slide 😭 they really were destined to be together.

Comments on this post have been limited.

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” she was snapped back to her current state following the short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He didn’t let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this behavior worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could often tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his arms just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observing her because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you do anything.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[yanderenightmare]

step daddy puts you in you place. your place being on his fat cock. please 😩

TW: stepcest, nsfw, dubcon/noncon, overstimulation, size-difference, age-difference, Daddy kink

gn reader - fem labels (princess)

Give a brat an inch, and they'll take a mile. 

He should have been strict with you from the very start. But... then he wouldn't reach what satisfaction dethroning a spoiled princess gives. The whole point is for you to show regret and remorse – repent your sins – or else you’ll have learned nothing. 

In the end, you’ll wish you’d made different choices – been more grateful for all he gave you instead of just taking his goodwill and kind patience for granted.

Before you even know what’s happening, before your spoiled-rotten mind can even comprehend where your bitchy attitude has landed your bratty ass, it’s already too late for apologies. 

But, hell... it would have been no fun in making you kneel if you didn't fight back just a smidge – if you didn’t tire yourself out and look up at him with that adorable scornful scowl – so pouty and grumpy with so many vicious obscenities on your tongue, where you deserve nothing but having your potty-mouth washed clean of all nasty protests and filthy comments along with a good thorough reminder of who’s in charge.

Poor little brat, you didn't know what you had coming, did you? Completely oblivious to the fact that your useless fists and aimless kicking do you no good whatsoever besides putting an amused smile on his face. 

Poor little brat, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head about anything anymore – Daddy’s heard your prayers and is going to be teaching you some proper manners from now on. Giving you the full length of his cock. Daddy’ll make sure his little monster is all tuckered out before nap time – you can count your bratty ass on it.

He’ll have fucked you into a grateful puddle before bedtime – reduce you to nothing more than a little dummy on his dick – a pleasure pet with your favorite toy stuffed up your taunt hole, pounding you silly until you know nothing else but how much you love your daddy.

Chanting it in choked, broken, needy little moans, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy~” when he’s successfully bent your stubborn will and reduced you to nothing but his happy little fuck-toy. 

The funny thing is that the slap to your ass does nothing but make you drown even further into the pleasure lake of his black sheets.

You’re so cute lying there in your own mess – soaked in sweat and cum with your tiny fists gripping the comforter like it’s the only thing grounding you sept for the strong hands holding your hips – lifting you to meet his sharp thrusts angled deep into your stomach when he splits you apart from the back for the umpteenth time. 

It makes you see black, it makes you see white, where your core bursts with color, as he makes you wail out like a filthy little whore in heat – holding your sex with big fat fingers, making you cum again while receiving every thick inch of Daddy’s meat.

It doesn't get any cuter than your round face mushed into the silk covers – glossy pout wet with drool and tears, cheeks swollen and dewy – fucked completely stupid – droopy eyes soft like cotton, with your little red tongue licking the air between parted lips, panting and mewling for him – causing his knife-sharp hungry-hearted grin to twist and curl and grow ever so eerily wider as he fucks you harder and faster and deeper and louder.

BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa, AFO, All Might

JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji

AOT – Erwin, Zeke

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

don' ask about the aesthetic k? k 💙

With how the hail storm rattled against the hull of the ship, and how the vessel careened on the waves, you were at a loss as to how Nami was fast asleep already.

The crew had settled down for sleep hours ago, the laughter and teasing from dinner falling into a soft silence draping over each and every one of you—well, except you, that is.

Even after months at sea, the incessant rocking had you curling into yourself, headache blooming under the skin of your temples. Groaning, you rolled around on your sheets, burying your face in your pillow as you shoved the blanket off your shoulders and down your body. Chill air hit you instantly, a contrast to the sweat rising from your skin. All you wanted was sleep, but your ears rang with the sound of rainfall and the far off thunder rumbling through the sky.

You tossed and turned again and again, rest ever so far away and the sway of the Going Merry making kept your mind alert with all its tilts and jumps. Yet another grunt of frustration huffed from your lips, and Nami finally sprang up, glaring at you from across the cabin.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, her eyes heavy and her annoyance high.

Great. Now Nami was upset, which usually lasted a whole day if you were unlucky. You didn’t bother turning back to look at her, digging yourself deeper into your blanket. “Sorry…”

She sighed and rubbed at her cheek, gaze drifting over your exhausted form, taking in what she could in the dark. Settling back down, Nami said what she’d been thinking for the past two hours of listening to you loll around restlessly. “Just go sleep with Zoro.”

A beat passed, your eyes slowly opening as you tried to convince yourself you’d heard her wrong. You flipped around and gaped at the girl slinking into her sheets with a smirk you would catch through any dark room. “What? Why would I—Why would you—Nami!”

She chuckled darkly, her bright eyes finding yours. Nami propped her head up on her hand. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

Trying and failing to make a comeback, you opened and closed your mouth like a gaping fish, settling on crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s none of your business.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “But I’ve got dawn watch and am in desperate need of sleep.” All you did was stare at her, your glare fading. Nami rolled onto her back, offering into the silence, “It’s not like he’ll turn you away.”

You tried so very hard to let her logic roll off your shoulders, but it was cold (Zoro was warm) and you were tired (Zoro was a good napping buddy). As appealing as the idea was, you didn’t want to bother him. Zoro was probably just getting back from his night watch, Sanji heading up to the deck in his wake. Zoro wouldn’t turn you away, but he might grumble at you, and sometimes that was worse.

“Stop overthinking,” Nami’s voice whispered through a hiss. “He likes you.”

She was just trying to give you heart palpitations saying stuff like that. “Does not.”

“Mhmm. Get some sleep… with Zoro.”

You threw your pillow across the room, missing her bed by a longshot. You could throw pillows and shout whispered words at her all you wanted—it didn’t change that she had a point.

It wouldn’t be the first time you crawled into Zoro’s hammock late at night, seeking shelter from sleeplessness that seemed to miraculously melt in his embrace. Nami might’ve been right; Zoro might like you, at least more than he liked anybody else. It was confusing most days, but your mind was so mushy with fatigue you didn’t bother running over the finer details of your affections for the swordsman.

You puffed out a huff, eliciting a growl from the dark, “Go. Or neither of us will sleep.”

“Fine.” You threw off your blanket and marched out of the cabin before you could lose your nerve, trudging through the nearly pitch black hall of the Merry. 

You yelped as you tripped over a discarded broom, cursing into the night as you kicked it aside and kept on toward the boy’s cabin. As soon as you laid eyes on the closed door, your footsteps faltered, heart stuttering. 

The ship leaned on the waves and sent you teetering into the wall, and the decision was suddenly easy. You inched the door open gently, wincing at the momentary creak, and slipped inside. 

The boys’ cabin always had a… unique scent to it. Somewhere between burning socks and musk is how Nami described it. Honestly (now, you would never tell her this), you just thought it smelled like Zoro. Though Zoro might’ve been slightly less odorous on good days, you mused.

The swordsman of your infatuation lay in a swaying hammock tied up between two support beams holding up the ceiling. A flash of lightning illuminated his peaceful face for a brief moment, and the room was back to black. 

Collecting your wits, you approached him slowly, careful not to step on any of the clutters the boys left lying about. Lip pinched between your teeth, you stepped around a crate of slingshot ammo Usopp had crafted, catching your foot on the slingshot itself and jumping out of the way. 

You swept the room fretfully, yet no one stirred, the usual snores rising and falling. A sigh puffed form your chest as you turned back to Zoro’s hammock, only to lock eyes with the stoic swordsman as he gazed blearily up at you.

Lurching back, you calmed your racing heart and huffed at him. “You scared me.”

Zoro leaned up on his elbows, confused. “You scared me.” His gaze flickered all over your face. “What’re you doing?”

You fisted your hands, feeling like a deer at headlights, and blurted, “Nami kicked me out.”

Zoro’s brows drew instantly. “What?” He rose halfway when you hand found his chest, gently pushing him back down.

“I mean,” you amended. “I couldn’t sleep, and she got tired of me rolling around…” Bashful in how you averted your eyes, swaying on your feet, “I… sleep better with you. Y’know?”

Not even a second later he tugged on your arm to draw you closer, shuffling over to offer you some room. You smiled softly, falling into the space beside him, molding right into his side. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face warmed, your heart swelled, and you rested your head on the rigid outline of his shoulder, adjusting to find a comfortable place. Zoro’s arm slid under you and curled you further into his side, a sigh pulling from his chest, his muscles literally relaxing under each of your touches. 

There wasn’t a name for what you and Zoro were, not yet anyway, and somehow you were fine with that. He was there, and you were there, and that felt like enough. For now, you let your eyes finally give way to exhaustion, the pelting of the rain growing fainter and fainter. 

Nami was a tease, but she made some good points a lot of the time. You’d have to thank her in the morning, after you finally got to sleep in the arms of your swordsman.

[angelltheninth]

Cockwarming hsr men and you start sleeping

It would be a very comfy way to take a nap.

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Sampo, Welt x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cockwarming, soft kisses, cuddles, lots of domestic fluff

A/N: This is smut but so damn fluffy.

Blade nudges you awake when he sees you start to fall asleep. You might be tired as hell from him fucking your pussy into oblivion but you his cock inside you still, you're not allowed to fall asleep until he deems the night done.

Dan Heng can't resist your cute sleeping face when you lay on his chest after a long night of lovemaking. Being very fond of how his cock feels inside you, you don't want him to pull out just yet. He was about to ask why but you fluttered around him again and suddenly his question was moot, replaced by the need to kiss.

Gepard likes cuddling with you too much to push you off him. After a very long day he doesn't feel like doing much else then that. So having you in his lap, back against his chest, pussy around his soft length while you talk about your day is a perfect way to relax.

Jing Yuan thrusts into you just a few more times before he's done and then gathers you into his arms and switches positions, putting you into his lap, your mouth going for his ndck, leaving marks that match those that match the ones on your neck. He is still hard inside of you but that's okay, he just wants to relax now.

Luocha will gladly stay knside yku while he reads his books. You can hold the book while he holds you, reading over your shoulder, kisding your neck and ear, cock twitching every now and then to give you some stimulation and pressure.

Sampo falls on top of you, too tired to move now, locking his hands kn your hips, grinding into you, leaning up for kisses as he smiles like an idiot. He never figured he would have a wonderful woman like you keeping his cock warm and hard for hours.

Welt sits you in his lap, starting a slow and lszy makeout session after he gets back from work. Your clothes were on when it started but you felt his cock strainig his pants so you offered to cockwarm him while you kiss. Since his cock twitched with so much excitement he couldn't say no.