#I just think they deserve a space to be soft and loving and fluffy

[mochiwrites]

hermitcraft au where everything is the same except scar and grian are married

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Touch of Madness

Logan Howlett X girlfriend!reader

Summary: Logan comes to you after being away, and all he wants is your touch, and he knows just how to get on your good side. This is just porn without plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Too Sweet but can be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, couch sex, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, the claws make an appearance (I have a thing for his claws okay), Logan is obsessed with his girl, fluffy relationship, established relationship

WC: 3.9k

A/N: how did I make this longer than too sweet when it was supposed to be a Drabble. Hello idk how to write short shit. But like hello yall are so awesome? I appreciate all the love yall have given my first Logan fic. I also have an older Logan fic in the works but that one has plot so it’ll be a minute before its out. For now here this <3

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were driving him mad. It’s not like he deserved your anger. Not fully anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was gone this long. He had been thinking about you all week, about your soft lips, about the warmth of your thighs, about your sweet moans only for his ears to hear. And all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and take you, over and over, until you begged him to stop. 

But no. 

You were being childish. That’s what he called it anyway. 

“Sweet girl,” he called after you, like a puppy following close behind you as you strided around your apartment. He knew you were doing it on purpose, the excuse of having to do chores so you could elongate his torture. The way you so innocently looked back at him made him clench his jaw. “C’mon.” 

“Don’t sweet girl me, Logan. I told you, I’m busy.” You sassed him, huffing as you kept walking, finding the most insignificant of chores to waste your time with. He rolled his eyes at you, eyebrows furrowed into this perpetual gaze of annoyance. 

The truth was, you were aching for him, your thighs warm and your skin tingling solely at the thought of him taking you to do as he pleased. But, if there was something in this world you could be, it was petty. And if you had to suffer a whole week without him, he could suffer for an hour, even if it was also at your expense. Truly, you almost enjoyed the annoyance in his face, the sharpness in his voice, him damn near groaning behind you every time you evaded him under the excuse of needing to get some dumb chore done. 

“You’re killin’ me here, sugar.” He actually groaned this time, his jaw set. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head to look at him, shooting him a pointed look. “I said I was sorry.”

“Serves you right. And I don’t care if you’re sorry. You haven’t called me in a week.” Your words were sharp with bitterness and it dawned on him. That was why you were upset. A slight bit of humor tugged at the corner of his lips and he breathed out a laugh. You stared at him with blank eyes, you weren’t laughing. 

“C’mon, is that seriously why you’re upset? You know I was out of the state.” He tried to reason with you. Charles had entrusted him and Storm with finding a certain mutant that was causing havoc, three states over. And Logan had very much underestimated how long this would take them. So here he was, after a whole week away, damn near begging you to let him touch you. “It wasn’t like I wanted to go anyway.”

No, he would much rather be with his sweet girl, one that was being particularly difficult and making him suffer when all he wanted to do was hold you, to feel the warmth of your soft skin. 

He stepped into your personal space, his intoxicating scent almost making you give in. You counted to five in your head, eyes closed to remind yourself that you were, indeed, angry at him. 

“So? You got a phone, don’t you? You could’ve called me.” You huffed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a small pout, Logan had to hold back the urge to laugh at you. “You can’t disappear for a week and expect to come here and do as you please.” 

You shot him a sharp glare, he just stared at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden shot of confidence. His sweet girl was talking back to him? Giving him attitude? He tilted his head at you, almost as if to dare you to walk away from him.  

There was a bit of malice in your eyes as you gave him one last look before you walked away, thinking of what other useless chore you could add to continue his torture. But Logan had other thoughts in his head. If you weren’t going to behave, he would happily put you in your place. 

“Hey, c’mere or I’m gonna bring you here myself.” He called after you, the strings of his sanity hanging on by a thread, just waiting for you to tug at the last strand. He knew you too well. You turned your head, eyes big in feign innocence and you tilted your head at him in defiance. 

“Make me then.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. In hindsight you should have known better, but you also wanted to see just what could happen if you pushed him hard enough. You saw the way his eyes flashed with malice, he stared you down, and in that moment you remembered just how small you were compared to him. “Oh fuck.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through you, but it wasn’t like you could go outrun him, especially not in your tiny apartment. He caught you, though he did purposely chase you into your living room, simply because he wanted to get you going, pumped with adrenaline. You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you against his chest. His sharp canines nipped at that one spot on your neck that had you whimpering. 

“You goin’ somewhere, sugar?” He husked, his lips hot on your cheek. You couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, eyes closed. God, you missed him. 

“Mhm, still mad at you.” You mumbled, barely hanging on to your silly grudge. A chuckle rumbled in Logan’s chest. 

“That’s alright. I don’t need you to be happy with me to do what I want to do.” He inhaled, breathing your sweet scent, and he spoke as he threw you over his shoulder. “Just need you to look pretty while I do it.” 

You weren’t complaining about your position, you were in fact, bursting into giggles as he effortlessly carried you to the couch, though your giggles turned into another squeal when he smacked his hand flat against your ass. Logan had a grin on his lips as he tossed you on the couch, wasting no time in spreading your legs apart to settle between them.

He leaned down, gripping the armrest above your head, caging you in as he leaned down. He brushed his nose against yours, sighing softly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Kiss me.” The words rumbled in his chest with a groan, his primal needs overcoming his senses. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You laced your fingers in his hair, pulling into a hard and heated kiss.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as he shrugged off his flannel, tossing it somewhere on the floor, his belt soon following the same fate. You tried to sit up against the armrest, but you quickly realized Logan had other plans deep in his perverted mind. With a hold of your ankle he dragged you down on the couch, your back flat on the surface as you looked up at him with big eyes.

“Stay just like that, pretty.” He spoke, pressing another heated kiss to your mouth before tugging off your sweatpants, followed by your panties. He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere you would have to run around searching for later. But you couldn’t give a fuck about that. All you could focus on was the heat forming between your legs as Logan settled between them.

His eyes met with yours one last time before he was diving in between your warm thighs. His tongue licked long stripes from your hole up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nerve before going back down. Over and over until your soft gasps and sighs of pleasure turned into moans. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open to do as he pleased. One leg hung over the back of the couch and the other was thrown over his shoulder, and he effortlessly held you down as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. He was like an animal, insatiable as he took you on his tongue.

“Oh fuck. Shit—Logan—” Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as you whined. You gripped the back of the couch, soft twitches taking over you each time his nose brushed your clit.

It was no secret that Logan found pleasure in giving you yours, and he ate you like it. Grunts and hums rumbled in his chest as his tongue found your clit again, and he reveled in the particularly high pitched cry you let out when he slipped two fingers into your wet core. 

“Needed to taste you so fuckin’ bad. I thought about it all week.” He spat into your clit, groaning at the way your tight walls squeezed his fingers. He could only imagine what you would do when it was his cock stretching your walls. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, fingers lacing in his hair as he lapped at your clit. You wished you could hold your pleasure, rivet in it for just a little bit longer, but the way he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot, the way his tongue was so relentless on your swollen clit, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my—”

Your words never left your throat, chest pounding with sheer adrenaline as your release coated his face and fingers. It was sudden, it left you breathless as your thighs twitched with aftershock. Your eyes were wide and glossy in shock as you shuddered with the remnants of your orgasm. It wasn’t until you pathetically attempted to drag yourself away that Logan stopped. You were shaking, gasping softly when he pulled his fingers from you, but you all but cried when he licked at your wet pussy, getting a taste of you.

“Logan, please I can’t—” Your voice was shaky as you tried to move away from his face, he chuckled at you, pressing his face against your inner thigh before he crawled up to your face.

“‘Is okay. You did good.” He kissed your lips, his large hands holding your face as he let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned, clenching around nothing already in anticipation of him filling you. “You wanna stop?”

“No, no, no! Need you, please!” You were quick to protest, wrapping your legs around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere. You couldn’t really stop him from doing anything, but he found it endearing that you tried. He bumped his nose against yours, lips pulled up into a tiny smile.

“Need me where, hm?” He opened his eyes to look at you, and truly how he didn’t bend you over the nearest flat surface the second he saw you was beyond his comprehension. You looked so perfect like this, underneath him, clinging to him. His sweet girl. He didn’t know what it was about you, but from the moment he met you he was done for. You drove him absolutely mad and now he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Inside me, Logan. Please.” You sighed out, face flushed with embarrassment. He smoothed out the frown lines on your forehead with a tiny kiss. A sweet gesture in comparison to what he was about to do to you.

In one swift motion he had you bent over the armrest, with your ass to him and your chest flat against the armrest. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he pulled off his white tank top. Your glazed eyes fawned over each perfect muscle in his body, taking particular interest in the veins that popped in his arm when he flexed them as he ridded himself of his jeans. How you ended up with a man so incredibly hot, you had no idea, but you were thanking the Gods for that.

“I need to be inside you, too.” He rasped into your ear, groaning in ecstasy as he sank himself into your needy cunt. Your jaw fell open he filled you, inch by inch. He pulled your t-shirt over your head, instantly attaching his lips to your shoulder as he rutted his hips against your ass. 

His pace was grueling from the start, grip tight on your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. A little reminder of his intoxicating presence. You braced yourself on the armrest, sounds of pleasure leaving your lips almost instantly. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, the thick hairs on his chest leaving a tingling sensation across your back as he held you flush against his chest. Heavy breaths filled your ears as you so desperately reached to touch him, any of him. Your trembling fingers found the sound of his face and he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“This what you needed, hm? Maybe I should fuck sweet pussy more often? Give it more attention?” He grunted the words in your ears, lips pressed against your cheek as a sheen layer of sweat began to coat your soft skin. You whimpered and nodded weakly, your cunt clenching him with excitement. He smirked softly, his hand coming up to lace through your hair. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl?”

Logan held your face down as his hips drilled into you, each delicious drag of his cock bringing you closer and closer to your sweet release. God, you needed it. All you could do was moan in response.

“Y-yes! God, yes. Please Logan.” You whined out shamelessly, eyes rolled back into your head. Logan hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple, the gentle gesture ironic considering just what he was doing to you. He said nothing as he sneaked his free hand to the front of your body, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive clit. Your jaw fell open, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Your thighs clenched around his hand, whining as his cock  brushed that one spot that had you seeing white. “Logan—”

Your voice was a warning, but he welcomed it. He flicked his wrist without mercy as he rolled his hips, his words only encouraging you to fall apart for him.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You can do that, can’t you? I know you want to.” He let go of your hair to turn your head to meet his eager lips. He happily swallowed the pathetic sounds that left your mouth as he flicked at your clit, his cock hitting so impossibly deep you were left trembling as your release seeped around him. 

Logan held you down on his cock, his thumb playing with your clit until you were gasping and your nails dug into the skin of his wrist. He kissed along your jaw as his hips stilled for just a second, your body still shaking underneath him.

“You okay?” He asked softly, grabbing your face to look at him. You looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded weakly, barely lifting yourself off the couch.

“Yeah. ‘m okay.” 

Logan tilted his head at you, an eyebrow raised with amusement as he leaned down to leave a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Perfect.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling out his cock to manhandle you onto your back before he was sinking himself into you again. Your slick walls welcomed him perfectly, like this was the only place he belonged, but he wasn’t complaining. If he could die, he would die happily buried deep in your cunt.

“Oh, God, Logan.” You gasped, thighs twitching as you looked down to find where his thick cock is filling you, splitting you open over and over. Your jaw fell open as you watched him grab one of your ankles and he held it up by his shoulder, spreading you open for him to dig himself deeper and deeper within you tight walls. 

“Look at me, baby.” He groaned, chest heavy as a thin layer of sweat covered his muscled body. You did your best to comply, you looked up, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure as he damn near folded your body in half. Your knees were pressed against your chest as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, there she is. My pretty girl. I missed you.” 

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, and also at the sting of his cock rapidly bringing you to your third release. The way he brought your legs to his shoulders, he sunk himself so deep within your walls you swore you felt him in your stomach. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

“Missed you too, Logan.” You brought your lips up to his, eyebrows furrowed into an expression of pure arousal as you gripped his hair, clinging to him for dear life.

Your release was quick and sudden, hitting you without a warning the second Logan pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You were just so sensitive, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed. You clutched on to his large bicep as you spilled around his cock. The way your tight walls squeeze him made him groan, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on chasing his own release while fucking you through your own.

“Look at you, you’re just so good for me. Fuck it, I’ll just take you with me next time.” Groans fell freely from his soft lips as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one hand, and the other held the armrest above your head. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours as your sweet praises and chants of his name filled his ears. 

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was animalistic, a deep growl as he coated your insides with his hot release. The metallic sound of sharp claws filled your ears once more as his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles, one on the back of the couch and the other just above your head, again. You gasped his name with a soft laugh, though you would be lying if you said it didn’t drive you feral when his claws accidentally came out. You brought a hand to his face as he pulled his claws out of your couch, the sharp metal once again hiding themselves within his knuckles with a sound. He held himself up on his forearm as his head fell to your neck.

“I’ll pay for it.” He muttered a chuckle into your neck, leaving a soft kiss to your jaw. You laughed, draping a hand over your forehead, breathing in deeply as you felt your mixed releases seep around his cock and drip onto the couch. He should just buy you a new couch, he thought.

“Wanna buy me a new body while you’re at it?” You teased him, already sensing you would have bruises and your thighs would ache for days.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern filled his voice as he lifted his head to scan your face for any discomfort as his hand came up to graze the thigh draped over his waist. You scrunched up your nose at him and shook your head.

“Of course not hun. Don’t be silly.” You traced your fingers over his face and gave him a lopsided smile.

“I did miss you, for the record.” 

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too Logan.”

“Lemme clean you up sugar.” He sneaked a kiss to your cheek as he untangled himself from you, much to your protest.

You whined at the emptiness he left you as he stood up. Though you did quite enjoy the sight of his perfect ass he walked off to find something to clean his mess with. When he came back, he had a small towel and he cleaned you without protest, he left warm kisses on your face as you talked to him about your day. He ultimately tossed the towel aside and slipped on his boxers, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his still hard cock, but you needed a break. You didn’t let him leave though, reaching to grab his wrist with soft eyes

“Wanna watch a movie? I miss watching movies with you.” You mumbled, voice soft as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He laughed softly at you, you made it sound like you hadn’t seen him in a month.

But, how could he ever say no to his sweet girl?

“Mhm, put on somethin’ .” He gently moved you so that he was lying behind you on the couch, his big arms wrapped around you as he held you against his chest. Though you were still completely naked, you paid no mind to it. It actually felt kinda nice to be so close to him and feel the warmth of his body in such an intimate way.

He covered you both with the throw blanket you always kept over the couch for days exactly like this, for those days you wanted to feel warm and close with him on the couch. He ignored the three holes where stuffing was coming out of the ripped fabric as he pulled the soft blanket up to your chest and as you happily settled in his arms, clicking away at the TV. He would buy you a new couch, just as he bought you new pillows, and new blankets. And anything you asked him to, really.

Logan wasn’t used to domestic, the soft touches, cuddling, but he liked doing it with you. He craved it actually, probably just as much as he craved the sex.

“Next time you’re away that long, just give me a call? Please? So that I’m not worried sick thinking you died.” You finally said, the whole reason for such intense feelings merely an hour ago finally surfacing. He laughed softly at how ridiculous you sounded. He technically can’t die, he thought.

“I wouldn’t.. I can’t…Y’know what? You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole having a girl thing. But I'll do better, yeah? Don’t need you to be mad, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, settling his face on your neck as he attempted to pay attention to whatever horror movie you decided to watch today. “But if you’re gonna let me fuck you like that when you’re mad, get mad more often.” 

“Logan.” You scolded him, nudging his ribs softly as a warm blush coated your cheeks, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him, but it still made him chuckle. 

He had to admit, he lasted way longer than he did last time. He lasted almost halfway through the movie before the feeling of his cock sitting hot and heavy in his boxers became apparent to him again. He inhaled your scent softly, his lips ghosting over your neck as he rolled his hips softly against your ass. And while you did try to protest, whining that you wanted to get through one movie with him, the sting of his cock was better than any movie in this world. The credits rolled, the soundtrack now drowned out by the sound of your sweet moans. Logan would be damned if he let you leave the warmth of his body for even just one second tonight. Or maybe ever. 

[cock-ainee]

How the Hashira men sleep with their s/o!

Characters: Gyomei;Sanemi;Obanai;Tomioka;Tokito;Tengen;Rengoku x gn!reader

~Gyomei~

• Poor guy is so big he takes up most of the space on the bed

• So, since you don't have much space on the futon, he lets you sleep on top of him-!

• Is a literal human heating pad, so don't you worry about getting cold at night

• Will hold you close with his strong arms, careful not to crash you with them

• Sometimes he'll bring in his cats to sleep with you two, so you'll have the fluffies all over you!

~Sanemi~

• This man is so protective

• But also silly, so i imagine him sleeping ON TOP of you

• Like.. he'll just lay on top of you like he's tackling you against the bed

• If you try to push him off he'll bite (playfully)

• He loves feeling the softness of you against him 😞

~Obanai~

• Obanai is such an insecure little guy, he'll hide under the blankets!

• Finds it fairly difficult to fall asleep

• You're eager to help, letting him squish himself close to you and hide under the blanket like a mole

• Keep it in mind, you're dealing with Kaburamaru too!

• Snakey will most likely wrap around your leg or rest under the blanket in a cozy empty space

~Tomioka~

• He's such a sub

• He'll be the lil spoon

• Bonus points for you, if you wrap your legs around him

• Sometimes in the middle of the night he'll turn around and you two will just be entangled together

• Totally feels odd when you're not sleeping next to him

~Tokito~

• He is a tiny baby

• I think he'd just lay on your chest or stomach, letting you cuddle him up

• And give him the comfort he deserves!

• He has the tendency to fall off the bed randomly

~Tengen + wives!~

• Tengen just appreciates how he's swarmed by his partners~

• One on the left, second on the right, laying on his chest, and then another two on his left and right, laying on his stomach

• But hell is poor bro uncomfortable :((

• Tho he won't tell, you and the girlies know and give him massages!

• There are times where it's the opposite, him laying on the side, cuddling up to you while Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru just stack themselves over you :3

~Rengoku~

• This man changes his sleeping positions all the time during night

• HE'S SQUIRMING SO MUCH!

• His fav is laying across from you, resting his head on your belly like the finest pillow

• Sometimes you'll find him laying between your legs, his face squished against your tummy 🥺

• (snores!)

[kentopedia]

AAAA YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AAA I LOVE IT!!! Could you write some fluffy soft mushy stuff about cuddling gojo? he deserves to be held and loved and appreciated

alone with the moon

FEATURING. gojo satoru x f!reader — wc: 1.9k

CONTENTS: i accidentally added angst, but it's mostly cute! no spoilers, sfw!!! gojo comes home late from a mission!

You waited, pushing your ear against the phone as the line rang, once, twice, a third time.

When the voice of Satoru Gojo, leading you to his voicemail box, answered again, your confidence waned, concern only growing about his condition.

Your texts remained delivered, and a response bubble never once appeared, even though you willed it to. The last time you’d heard a word from him was this morning, when he was leaving for work, promising he’d be home before dinner. Satoru never went long without answering you, and the food sat cold on the table without a word.  

In a rush of panic, you’d reached out to Shoko, Nanami, anyone you could possibly think of that he might contact in a pinch. Though, none of them had heard from him in days, and you started to doubt that he’d ask for backup, even if he really needed it.

A terrible image rooted inside your chest. Satoru was strong, but he wasn’t immortal, and you knew that he could be lying somewhere, alone, dying. If that was the case, you’d be none the wiser.

You worried your lip, feeling like you were slowly losing a grip on sanity. If he’d just send you a simple heart in return, a space, anything to let you know that he was okay, you could release the tight grip that squeezed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs. Instead, you sat in silence, holding your phone like a lifelong, incapable of thinking of anyone but the man who hadn’t even told you where he was going.

Finally, the door opened. It shut. You held your breath until the sound of heavy, recognizable footsteps padded down the hall, and you were to your feet in a flash, rushing around the corner.

Gojo’s shoulders were slumped as he slowly pulled the blindfold over his head, soft white hair falling onto his forehead. Before he’d had the chance to say a word, you’d thrown yourself into him, your tight embrace crushing his arms to his hips.

He relaxed immediately, holding you just as closely. “I missed you too, honey.”

Although you usually melted at the sound of his voice, the casual tone that he dared to use, to insinuate that nothing was wrong, was enough to irritate you. You shoved him away, lips drawn into a thin line. “Where the hell were you?”

Gojo blinked back, frosty eyelashes falling over wide crystal eyes. Then, he was rummaging through his pocket with a cheeky smile, pulling out the phone that had cracked, splintered, rendered completely unusable. “Sorry. I would’ve called you if I could.”

You inhaled. Released a shaky breath and tried to calm your nerves before you said something you didn’t actually mean.

Gojo’s smile quickly turned into a frown. “I didn’t mean to make you wait. You should’ve gone to bed.”

Though he was trying to comfort you, the comment only served to upset you more. “You think I could have just gone to sleep? You should’ve told me where you were going. No one had any idea where you were and I couldn’t get a hold of you, and—”

You stilled, burying your face in your hands before Gojo had come up around you, his tall frame hovering over you, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. His fingers ran along your spine, stopping softly at every bone before he continued to the next notch, thinking. “I don’t want you to worry. You don’t need to worry.”

“I always worry.” The words were plain, offered to him without any dressing, no way to cover them up into anything but exactly what they were. “That’s the cruel reality of being a sorcerer.” You swallowed, burying your face into his chest, even though he smelled of dirt and sweat and the sickening smell that lingered from cursed spirits. “You may be Satoru Gojo, but with everything that’s been going on, I can’t help but wonder if each time you leave will be the last time that I see you.”

Satoru was quiet, contemplative. He stopped tracing your skin, instead letting his large palm rest still on your hip. “I’m okay, baby. Really.”

Leaning back in his arms, you scanned him. A gash cut across his cheek and grime had splattered all over his uniform. “Are you?” you asked in a soft voice, wiping your thumb against the wound. “You’re bleeding, Satoru.” The color stained your finger, revealing the outline of your thumbprint that had smeared against his skin.

Gojo pulled your hand away, gently grasping your wrist, as if to redirect your attention, even though you could focus on nothing but the crimson stain. “It wasn’t from the curse. I let my guard down a moment. Some debris hit me in the face, that’s all.” He smiled, though you couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth, his voice hushed. “It’s just a scratch.”

It looked like more than just a scratch, the droplets deep red as they flowed down to his chin. “You’re exhausting yourself,” you said, swallowing the wave of emotion that threated to drag you down. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I have to—”

“Even you have your limits.” With a sigh, you untangled yourself from his embrace, taking his hand to lead him to the bathroom. “This is reckless, Satoru. If they need your help so bad, they should understand you’re no used to them dead.”

His lips curled, but the smile lacked any of the usual charm. “I’ll be okay.”

“You always say that, but lately, I’ve been finding it hard to believe.” There were bandages in the medicine cabinet, ointment, and you rummaged them, thinking. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Satoru was quiet as you pushed him onto the countertop, his legs long enough to reach the floor completely. You stood between them, wiping a warm cloth over his cheekbone, scrubbing harder where the blood had already crusted over.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Satoru apologized again, his eyes soft under long lashes. “You know I would’ve called you if I could.”

“I know.” You swallowed, unable to hold his gaze for long. With shaky hands, you placed a ridiculously shaped bandage over his cheek, grateful that you could something, even something as small as this. “There,” you said in a tender voice, hating the way your lips quivered around the syllable. “All done.”

Satoru smiled and leaned forward, wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I had my own little nurse.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him on the cheek, right over the scratchy little band aid, exhaling a sharp laugh. “You don’t need a nurse. You need some sleep.”

He didn’t answer as you led him to the bedroom, the exhaustion on his face too evident for an objection.

The sheets were already pulled back from your earlier attempts at sleep, when you were too tense and worried to keep your eyes shut. Now, the blankets were too alluring to resist, warm and heavy, and you sunk easily into the mattress, exhaling relief.  

When Satoru laid beside you, you rolled over, forcing him onto his side so that you could wrap your arms securely around him.

For half a moment, he tensed, surprised, but didn’t object to the change in your usual position. Instead, he held your hand tighter against his chest, letting you intertwine your legs with his own.

Satoru was warm, and he needed a shower, but you were too consumed by overwhelming relief that you didn’t care about anything but being near him.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” he said after a moment of unbroken silence, caressing your knuckles with rough fingertips. “Really, you don’t need to—”

Swallowing, you buried your forehead further into his neck, breathing in the cotton and detergent from the fresh shirt he’d changed into. Sweat lingered on his skin, and his hair was tangled, but the faint smell of his cologne remained. “Just let me hold you, Satoru.”

The moment was serene as he contemplated his next words.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, uncertain. The opposite of every adjective that most people would use to describe him.

It was not a question that could be so easily answered with a yes or no, and you wondered what you could say that wouldn’t upset him. Satoru was the sun, but he belonged to more than just you; one singular person couldn’t bottle up that light and threaten to hide it away from the rest of the world, just to keep it safe.

“I don’t want you to think you’re alone in this, because you’re not.” You hummed your words, maintaining every syllable on a single tone, hoping it wasn’t evident that your voice was near collapse. “Let everyone else think Satoru Gojo is invincible, but I know better.” The hum of the fan became your focus, his subtle breaths interrupting the white noise.

He squeezed your hand, silent once. Another minute passed. Sounds from outside cut through it, sharp. “I don’t have another choice.”

He never meant to scare you, but it happened anyway. It would always happen, so long as you harbored a shred of affection for the man who’d never had any other choice but to be a jujutsu sorcerer. You pressed a kiss to his neck, then, the skin warm and soft there.

“I know.” A sigh left your lips. You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. “The world needs you. Am I selfish for thinking I need you more?”

Satoru turned in one fluid movement, crushing you to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. His arms squeezed your stomach, so much tighter than you anticipated, but you were safe, warm, and he was sheltered there with you. “I could never think you’re selfish for that.” You clung to him. “I’m sorry I can’t be here with you more.”

Another wave of stillness hit the two of you, in which neither of you knew what to say next. His breath was cold against your ear. “It’s okay,” you said, even though sometimes it wasn’t, and you missed him every moment that he was away. “I’ll still be here every time you return.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, untangling the soft, white strands.

“I’m proud of you, Satoru. Sometimes, I just wish you’d let me take care of you. I wish I could do more.”

You felt him laugh, though there was little amusement in it, and you wondered if, maybe, he wished that too. But he was Satoru Gojo, and you were just a grade one sorcerer, and when it came to jujutsu, the gap of power is wide between you. There are missions he must take that no one else can, not even you, and you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life.

“You don’t need to do more.” He kissed your temple and relinquished his position once more, flipping to his side. Your stomach was once again pressed to his chest as you hold him.

There were no words left to be said. Instead, you held his wrist loosely in your hand, swirling patterns into it with your thumb. For once, Satoru’s breathing evens out before your own, and you are left alone once more.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Dom!Steve Harrington x Reader • piss, daddy kink, unprotected sex (this is filthy-your girl was ovulating, couldn’t help myself) fluffy ending 🩷

“Spread your legs; I have to piss.”

He said it so quickly, so casually, you weren’t sure at first that you’d heard him correctly. But the intensity in Steve’s eyes and the wicked smirk on his lips confirmed his intentions.

“Come on, honey,” he persisted. “Y’know how hard it is for me to piss with a boner.” Steve licked his lips, his eyes lingering below your waist. “Let me go on that pretty little puss and then I can fuck it how it deserves…”

You looked up at Steve from your place at his feet, your ass resting on the cold shower floor. “Besides,” he added, and took a step closer. “You’re practically shivering. Let me warm you up, baby…”

How could you resist? Steve was so persuasive, always helping to wriggle you out of your shyness and try new things in bed. Why not try something new in the shower this time?

Steve massaged himself over you, his cock pulsing but not fully hard yet. His doe eyes were wide and needy, his lips formed into a pretty little pout. “Please baby,” he murmured, his voice a seductive plea. “Do it for Daddy?”

That was it; your mind made up by four little words: “do it for daddy.”

You parted your knees, spreading wide open for Steve. He took in a deep breath and released it slowly as his eyes focused on your cunt, the plump little lips he loved to suck and fuck laid out on display.

“That’s a good girl,” Steve nodded, his voice breathy. “Keep it spread for me, just like that…”

Aiming his tip at your pussy, Steve began to release his urine between your legs. You shivered when it first made contact with your skin, tickling.

The shivering quickly faded as Steve’s piss spilled over your clit, the pressure and warmth of his stream on your most sensitive space causing your thighs to tremble. Steve’s eyes were hooded with arousal, drinking you in as he watched his piss trickle between your parted lips.

When he finished, Steve knelt forward and gave your warm, wet pussy a little slap. His other hand was still around his stiffening cock, tugging it firmly. “What a good little pussy,” Steve praised. “Looks even prettier covered in my piss...”

He helped you to your feet and turned you around to face the shower wall. “Gonna treat it real nice now, sweetheart,” Steve murmured from behind you, and placed a soft kiss on the back of your neck. “I promise.”

He rubbed his cock against the thick of your ass, a mix of leftover piss and precum slicking your skin. As he positioned himself between your thighs, Steve’s thick, veiny cock throbbed against your cunt. You whimpered as his hand reached around you and found your clit, his fingers pressing firm against it.

Steve rocked his hips back and forth, masturbating himself between your thighs till he was hard as rock. He used his free hand to adjust himself so his tip was nudging your entrance. With his lips warming your shoulder in a kiss, Steve gently pressed inside you. His cock filled you up perfectly, spreading you open slowly as he relaxed his hips forward.

You whimpered Steve’s name softly as he continued to massage your clit, his cock sinking into you as deeply as you could take him. “Shh, it’s okay baby,” Steve whispered at your ear, his breath moist and warm. “Daddy’s got you now.”

He kissed your neck softly, driving his hips forward and back at a delicate, excruciating pace.

“F-faster,” you pleaded, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “Feels so good…oh god…” Steve’s teeth nipped your ear with a tender, painless pressure. “S’that what I am, when I’m inside you?” he teased softly. “Your god?”

You moaned as Steve thrust harder, just once for emphasis, the prominent veins on his shaft rubbing your g-spot. His lips curved into a cocky grin around your earlobe. “Sounds like a prayer to me,” he murmured. “Think I could get used to that…” His voice darkened. “Do it again.”

Steve slammed his hips forward, pulling an even louder, desperate cry from between your lips. He wasn’t going to stop now, not when his cock was punching those pretty, pitiful sounds out of you. He kept fucking you with the same intensity, his pace relentless. Steve’s hand continued to rub sloppy, frantic circles over your clit, building a pressure at your core that finally broke in a wave of pleasure.

Your release spilled between your thighs, a loud cry expelling from your lips as you gripped Steve’s cock in tight, rhythmic spasms. He grunted against your neck, powerless to withhold his own climax any longer. Steve’s eyes squeezed shut, his vision going white, as his orgasm erupted. His tip gushed thick streams of cum inside you, painting your walls in his release. His chest heaved against your back, the muscles in his forehead tight as he buried it in the soft crook of your shoulder.

Your legs were shaking, seemingly unable to hold your own body upright after such a powerful orgasm had overtaken it. Leaning against the cool wall of the shower for support, Steve moved with you, his chest pressed to your back.

His hands moved to your shoulders, gently closing over them as he nuzzled into your neck. Steve’s cock softened after awhile and slipped out of you, heavy and satisfied, a thick line of semen dripping from his tip to the shower floor. He turned you to face him and held you close to his chest, pressed to his heartbeat. You nestled your nose within the coarse hair that covered Steve’s chest, your eyes closing peacefully as he gently rocked you in his arms…

[taintedbenevolence]

WRIOTHESLEY, birthday prompt Summary: Giving a little bit of special treatment to your tired boyfriend Wriothesley on his birthday! Happy (belated) Birthday, Wrio <3

"Mmh.. just a little higher," your love murmurs, his face resting comfortably on your lap whilst he comfortably nuzzles himself closer to your body, chest rising and falling slowly, signaling his comfort and relaxed state. He lazily smirks at you as you continuously scratch his scalp soothingly.

You can't help but smile softly at the sight of it. It's endearing, really — your commanding, intimidating, and powerful boyfriend, lord and Duke of the Fortress of Meropide — all snuggled up to you like a big, fluffy puppy asking for attention. And as if it weren't enough to warm your heart, the way his tired, half-lidded icy hues gaze at you lovingly with a glint of contentment is enough to bring a smile to your lips and send your heart into a frenzy.

His hair is so soft, you think, whilst Wriothesley just lies down completely comfortable, almost treating you like his new pillow, to which he knows you certainly wouldn't mind.

"You comfortable, Wrio?" you inquire with a smile that tugs at the corners of your lips, to which he chuckles softly. "Very," he replies, eyes closing as he feels your fingers continuing to pass through the soft tufts of his hair, to which he hums in pleasure.

His gaze is loving, and you wish that this moment could really last forever — just one day without having to worry over responsibilities, the fortress, work papers, nothing — it sounds like heaven, to both you and your beloved.

But you know as well as he does that no moment will go on for an eternity. So with that in mind, you've decided to do your best to make this day for him the very best it can be — to shower him with love and affection, one so sweet that he very much craves behind closed doors — so that once this day is over, he rests fulfilled and accomplished.

"Love you so much..." Wriothesley murmurs, a small smile grazing his lips. "You satisfied yet, sweetheart?" he teases, and you shake your head with the same smile adorning your expression. "You're enjoying this more than I am. Just let me shower you in the affection you deserve, love."

And the man chuckles, just leaning further into your touch, in which he melts in so quickly. "Hey," he chimes in a few minutes later, to which you tilt your head, intrigued. "Lie down with me."

Before you can answer and without word, he sits up, takes you into his arms, and then drags you down to the bed you're on as he promptly lies down beside you, hugging you and letting you nestle into his chest. His head rests above yours, and he weaves his thighs around yours, trapping you in his hold as he nuzzles closer to you.

"Let me hold you like this for a while, yeah?" he speaks lowly, his voice tired and rasped as you feel his heartbeat drum in his chest that slowly rises and falls at a rhythmic pace. "You're so soft I could hold you like this forever."

Snaking an arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, leaving little to no space between the two of you. Before long, you can already feel him press a light kiss on the top of your head, and you can picture in your mind the small smile he's wearing.

To him, he needs no material gift on this day to be happy — being around you is more than enough for him — it's a blessing enough as is to be able to have lived thus far. To be beside you, to be able to love you and hold you close is the best gift he could ever have, and his mind already wanders to the future the two of you will have.

You chuckle softly, slightly turning your head to meet his sleepy eyes, and with a smile, you kiss him shortly, quickly burying your face in his neck as your heart warms at the sight of the faint red dusting his cheeks.

"Happy Birthday, Wrio."

"I like signs of strength and hope. They give me reassurance that tomorrow will be better than today. This isn't to be pessimistic, but it's impossible for the present to be without its doubts and troubles — that's just the truth. But come hell or high water, if nothing else then at least we'll be able to figure it out together, right?" — WRIOTHESLEY

[solannn]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⤷ angst & fluff prompt & special 200 subs (for any of your fav characters)

SOFT ANGST ;

1. "please look at me"

2. "Is s/he really just a friend ?"

3. "I’m just disappointed."

4. "Don’t gave me Space, that’s the last thing i want with you."

5. "i know you still love me."

6. "I can’t think straight with you."

7. "Why are you so stubborn?"

8. "Don’t do this here."

9. "You never had a problem with It before.."

10. "Am i too late ?"

11. "You won’t understand."

12. "Do you ever mean the things you say ?"

13 "can i hug you, for the last time ?"

14. "I’m trying.. i really am."

15. "I’m scared."

16. "Can you kiss me ? One last time ? That’s all i ask."

17. "You deserve more."

18. "I swear i’ll do things different this time."

19. "They’re beautiful, i hope they makes you happy"

20. "I know i shouldn’t be here."

FLUFF ;

1. "You’re hair is so fluffy/soft"

2. "It’s too cold ! Come back !"

3. "No. I’m not letting you go. It’s too ealry to get out of bed"

4. "C’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working"

5. "What ? Does that feel good ?"

6. "I think i’m inlove with you and i’m terrifiee."

7. "You know i’m here for you ?"

8. "You’re so cute when you’re half asleep"

9. "Your lips are so soft, i could them all day"

10. "You’re warm.."

11. "I think i might be falling in love with you."

12. "I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to suffer by yourself again, i promise."

13. "No— it’s alright, come here"

14. "If i could, i would kiss away all your scars."

15. "Shh, just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay ? None of it was really."

16. "No you can’t get up, you’re my prisoner !"

17. "I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arms and i didn’t want to wake you up."

18. "Just pretend to be my date."

19. "Look, i know we don’t know each others that well, but i’m still worried about you. No one deserve to be alone."

20. "I know i’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just another ten, please."

[hitomisuzuya]

more roommate scara? but sfw. cold scara but also soft? idk

Roommate Scaramouche x fem!reader. SFW. Fluffy at the end. Drabble.

I hope this was along the lines of what you were asking for..yes I have watched the TV show referenced in this. I absolutely love trash TV.

Even though Scaramouche would vehemently deny it, he absolutely ate up reality TV shows for the drama. You were sitting on the couch, watching one about idiots who partied, drank, and fought with each other almost on a nightly basis.

It was your typical trash TV show.

Looking at Scaramouche even now, there was the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. Yeah, he was eating this show up.

Scaramouche sighed. "What total wastes of space. These people don't even deserve to breathe the same air as me."

Haughty little brat, isn't he?

You scooted closer to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder. "Do you think I am a waste of space?"

The only dignified answer you received was his trademark scoff and, "So needy," He didn't take his eyes off of the screen.

You couldn't tell if Scaramouche was considering his answer, just flat out brushing you off or if he thought you were being a pest.

You knew this was just how he was, but honestly it stung sometimes. Showing affection to Scaramouche was largely hit or miss sometimes.

You sighed, and started to pick your head up off of his shoulder. You were making a move to go back to your original spot when his hand on your head stopped you.

Scaramouche put your head back on his shoulder. Who said you could move away from him like that? All he'd needed was a little time to consider an answer that would be worthy of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat feeling his hand stroke through your hair. "I am the waste and you are the space," He said, scoffing at the two girls fighting on the screen. It was over a letter and a cheating boyfriend.

God, he was glad he didn't have to deal with any of the shit these girls dished out.

You were a little baffled by his answer. "Huh?"

Scaramouche let some of your hair cascade through his fingers. "I am the waste, and you the space that I can be myself in," You could see his cheeks flush.

Essentially, Scaramouche had just said that he loves you.

You nuzzled your cheek into his shoulder, hearing him laugh softly, like he had totally expected it. "So needy," The corners of his lips twitched into a soft smile.

Scaramouche patted his lap, taking his eyes off of the screen for the first time to raise an eyebrow at you when you didn't move right away.

Smiling at him, you moved so that you rested your head in his lap. "Now who's being needy?" You teased.

He sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Quiet, you."

[dreamauri]

Whens the next part of My love all mine coming out?🤭

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part six ┇ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst / fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( - ) ╰  🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

“It’s so fluffy.” Max whispers, nuzzling his nose in your hair. You chuckle slightly, shuffling further back into his lap to get comfortable. The dutch, wrapped his arms around your waist to remove the space between your back in his chest. Max leaned his chin on your shoulder watching with you the tiktoks you scroll through.

You find yourself holding in a laugh when the video of drunk Max and Daniel on a plane. Max finds himself gasping, taking your phone and looking at it in disbelief. “How long–” “That's been there forever.” you tease taking your phone from him.

You press on the search bar, type drunk max verstappen to show him all the clips people have seen, including that one time he and Charles were calling each other from on a cruise ship.

“Ah, young love.” You tease him. Max gives you a deep frown and a confused face. “Me and Charles?” “There’s a whole hashtag dedicated to you guys.” You tease, scrolling through a bit more, you come across a video of you and max drunk sway dancing from the after parties from the monaco gp. You knew some girls were doing something. “I liked that dress.” Max nuzzles in your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. 

“You got me that dress, remember?” “Yeah, that’s why I like it.” He smiled widely and you felt yourself laugh, melting in his hold. You liked loved moments like these. Just you and your husband, sitting on a balcony under the moonlight.

You wish everyday could be like this, peaceful and calm, just comfortable nights for you and your husband. But you always have to remember that Max Verstappen was a world renowned sportsman. He spends his weekends driving and weekdays training.

And even when nothing was going on, there were still people in the media who wanted to bite you. Looking through the comments was a mistake. You sighed reading how people said they could treat Max so much better or just picked on your mistakes.

“What’s this shit?” Max grumbles, scrolling through the comments. There was a pattern. People were nice to him, praising him, complimenting him. Telling him how he was such a good husband. On the other hand, others were commenting on how you weren't enough for him. How he could do and how much he deserves so much better.

“I don’t think these people understand I’ve been . . . what’s the world? Simping? Crushing on you since high school.” You held a giggle at the statement. He took your phone from you, starting to report every hateful comment. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his determination. “You don't have to do that.” “Shhh, wifey. It’s fun.” “Sorry, hubby.” You gave him a soft kiss before he was standing up.

You went to get a glass of the lemonade you and Max had made earlier when you heard your phone ring. “It’s your mom.” He shouted through the hotel room before answering. “Hallo, mum. Het Max.” [hi, mom. it’s max.] He greeted her over the phone. You couldn’t hear what your mom said in return but Max laid back in his arms with a big pout. “Het is voor jou, liefje.” [is your mom, love] Max held the phone out for you. You chuckled, taking a sip from the lemonade and going to sit back outside with him.

“Hi mum.” You greeted her by putting the call on speaker. “Y/N, ik wil dat je met mij mee luistert. Ik kan zo ver niet met je leven en ik ga het niet langer volhouden dan dit.” [Y/N, i want you hear with me. I can't live with you this far and I'm not going to last longer than this] You found yourself freezing in your place. Tilting your head confused. “vergeet de verstappen. scheid dat kind en kom naar huis. Ik wil niet dat k wil je niet zo ver weg.“ [forget the verstappens. divorce that kid and come home. i dont want you so far from me]

Max snapped his head up, and you choked on your drink. Divorce? Your mom’s tone was harsh and mad. “Eh? scheiding? Dat wil ik niet. Ik boek wel een vlucht erheen, maar alles komt goed. je overdrijft.” [Eh? Divorce? I don't want that. I'll book a flight there, but everything will be fine. you are exaggerating] You ended the call before she could protest. 

A moment of silence evaded the space, a once warm space was now cold. You didn’t dare speak, you knew Max was looking at you to see what you’d do next. You shook your head, holding your legs and looking down at your phone. “I-i don't want to divorce.” You told him finally looking up to meet his eyes. Max relaxed at your reassurance, nodding quickly as he sat up properly facing. “I don't either.” He held your hand kissing your knuckles. “I’ll book you a flight right away.” He said standing up.

“Wait, Max.” You stood after him, stopping. “I don’t wanna go.” You found yourself admitting, a deep sigh leaving your throat. Max was the door of escape from your family. They’d always put pressure on you to be some perfect academic person. Graduating high school with honours and valedictory. You gave up on being normal when university came around. 

It was only when you married Max were you able to pick up a paint brush again. When Jos had approached you and your family about his son wanting your hand in marriage you took it right away. An escape. You didn’t know him, so marrying him was a risk. But if you never took that risk, you would’ve never found yourself living your life like you are now.

“It’s your mom and family.” He told you, turning to you confused, looking down at his phone for flights. “You’re my family.” You replied without even thinking.

The blond snapped his head up, taken aback by your words. “I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to leave you— Correction, I don't want to be without you.” 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"There you are." Your mother hummed happily once you pushed the door open. She opened her arms and you immediately went for her embrace, wrapping your arms around her back with your head on her chest. "Awh, look at you." The woman cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your head.

Max always had an odd feeling about the woman, From the moment she first saw him, till now she always give him this disgusted glare. "And I see you've brought your husband too." The words were bitter in her mouth. "I thought it was clear I wanted just you."

"Well," You looked back at the blond. "I don't know how to drive, and Me and Max we're together. So, yeah." There was a long pause, long eye contact between you and Max. "He doesn't love you." Your mother whispered in your ear, cupping her hand over her lips so max wouldn't hear or see.

"Don't be naïve, sunflower. He's after your looks." She stroked your hair. Max could see your eyebrows furrow weather in disbelief or in betrayal. "Your a trophy. If he really loved you, he'd come a whisk you off your feet. Make you fall in love with him and ask for your hand in marriage himself."

Your heart panged against your chest. She had a good point. If Max really loved you, why did he do the things the way he did. Why did you have to pick yourself up at the airport and let yourself into the apartment, and clean it up yourself? Why did you not have a choice to see if you loved him before marrying him? Why did he pluck you out of the life you already had?

"He's not good for you." Your mom whispered, her manipulative words getting through to you. "He's using you. He likes your body, your face, your image. Come to mummy, i wont hurt you, yeah? I'll keep you safe."

You jumped up on your feet clearing your throat. Max immediately noticed the shaky and hesitant body language you displayed. Fidgeting with your fingers and tapping the top of your toes on the floor.

"We should probably go, visiting hours are going to end soon." He stood up tall, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder to comfort you. Max was surly surprised to see you flinch, and even more angry to see the deceiving gentle smile your mother gave hi. "Hours start at 12:30 tomorrow. Don't be late." She said.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max found himself tracing the lines to the glass painting on your window. The hospital wasn't far from your mom's house which had your old tween room before your parents divorced. The faded purple walls with scenery painting on them with stickers and posters.

"They're pretty," He hummed. "We should try these out on our windows back home." He turned to you, pointing at the window. His body felt still once he caught your fear filled eyes. He gulped, moving over to you, sitting on his knees beside you.

"I don't know what your mother is telling you. But I love you. No matter what." Max held your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. "You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me and I'd never change anything about you or us."

You looked in his ocean eyes, too big for his head yet so beautiful for his own good. The second you looked away Max knew your mother was in favour at the moment. He knew that old narcissistic woman had won the moment you had slept with your back facing him. You never looked away from him.

And the sight or your sleeping figure facing away from him made him feel as if his heart was being ripped apart slowly and painfully. He was scared to even touch you. Max would never ever risk making you feel uncomfortable.

This would be your last night under the moon light together.

[didyoulookforme]

(not quite) sfw alphabet: cute & soft matty healy x fem reader

oh, hello hi! seems like many of you enjoyed the nsfw alphabet so i thought i would try and do the (mostly) sfw version to give lovely soft matty some sort of backstory.

again, in my dream world this bf matty is a shy romantic horny opinionated man who is mostly a sub.

nothing super unique, just mostly here for the soft matty vibes because we all deserve one of those. that and i've been in my fluffy feels these past few days.

warning: 18+, some smutty mentions. grammatical errors, typos. this doesn't really follow a timeline, so let's suspend reality here.

matty healy masterlist here

--------

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

towards his friends: he will give them a hug here and there, but he usually reserves those for very special occasions (eg. birthdays or record launches) or if someone is clearly upset.

towards you: he will shower you with affection whenever he can without being too overbearing in public (unless he's had too much to drink hehe. he will cling to you like a leech then.) hugs, kisses on top of your head, holding hands. he likes cute signs of affection while you're out and about. now, if you're alone, he will hold you for as long as he can. think cuddles on the couch, limbs all intertwined, your bodies melting into each other, him almost begging for you to please play with his hair because he loves the feeling of your nails against his scalp. he will listen to you ramble on about whatever happened at work, pretending like he's following along but half of the time he can't keep up because you talk 10 miles per second. he knows that your favourite flowers are tulips, so every spring he will make sure the vase on your bedside table is full of them, and if he's on tour, he'll arrange for you get a special delivery of the yellowish orange ones you love so you don't dare forget about him. not that you ever would <3

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

lucky for you (and not in a sarcastic way), matty's been your best friend since year 9 when you became his tutor because him and numbers do not mix. you would stay with him after classes to try your best to help, but half of the time the two of you would end up getting distracted talking about random topics such as your favourite bands and gossip from school, or sneaking out to smoke (he’s the one who showed you how to do so). you found him intriguing since the beginning—you weren’t sure how someone so shy and soft spoken could be in a band and have a bunch of teenage girls lusting after him. he was quiet, sure, but very witty and funny once he got on chatting. he took an interest in you too, noticing how you’d try your best to keep the conversation going as he wasn’t an eloquent one with words. he appreciated that, your patience to actually keep him engaged and your eagerness to connect with him. even though the girls were after him and his bandmates at all times, he never really paid attention to them, thus the boys were in shock when he brought you over to practice one night. like, matthew bringing a girl to their sacred space, wtf? but handsome george did notice how matty played effortlessly and better when you were around so george would try and get you to come to practice every once in a while so they could get the best version of matthew possible.

as best friends, you were there for each other through it all (even through your arguments) because you just clicked so well. you knew everything about each other. every. single. little. thing. but as the band started to get bigger, it was difficult to find the time to hang out as he would be rather busy. you were always supportive, but you'd be lying if you didn't miss having your friend around and being able to see him whenever you pleased. it wasn't the same just seeing photos of him pop up on the internet or get texts from him whenever he could find the time. however, when we would come back, you picked up as if nothing had ever changed. and it is always hard to believe that after 15-16 years of friendship, you'd finally get over yourselves and actually try to see if you could work out romantically. which you do :)

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

"can i have a cuddle?" is probably one of the things he says the most to you. he loves loves loves to snuggle, but just with you though. he enjoys the company and the warmth of having you close to him when possible. it makes him feel safe. his favourite is when he gets to cuddle you after you wake up, just heavy limbs around each other while lazily kissing your lips. there's been times when he's been sad about something and you're not there, so george will tease him (do you need a cuddle, sweetheart?), but the good friend that he is, he will actually spend some time with him, an arm around matty's shoulders trying to cheer him up. it does the trick most of the time.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

my boy here calls in the movers (eg. george and ross) the second you accept to move in with him. matty is over the moon that he will get to wake up pressed against your naked body every morning, that he will get to see you wear his clothes when you make your daily cup of tea, that he will come home to you and mayhem cuddled on his sofa after a long day at the studio. he's been dreaming of this moment for quite a while and when it does happen, he's thankful to everything that is holy that you like him enough to deal with him on a daily basis.

which, you do have to deal with his messes because he is not the neatest person. he's not that bad but you have to pick up after him when he gets distracted because he's already probably making a slight mess elsewhere. think shirts over chairs, empty mugs on surfaces, socks by the sofa, towels on the bathroom floor, a stack of open books on the desk, etc etc. again, not bad really, just a quirk of his. however, you don't mind it at all as he's a mean cook in the kitchen. matty will treat you to a three course french gourmet dinner any evening (plus some sex as an extra dessert).

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

oh god... he thinks the world of you and wants you to be the happiest ever so if at some point he feels like you'd be better off without him, he'd heartbreakingly let you go, letting you know that he will always be there for you. if it were to happen, there would be endless tears and so much pain due to the loss of your relationship. but you would eventually be friends again, maybe not as close as before, but you've shared so much together to not be a part of each other's lives in some way, shape or form. ugh. too much for my heart to handle. don't make me even though i secretly love angst.

f = fiance (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

on the same vein as above, commitment often scares him but not because he's afraid of spending the rest of his life with you, but mostly because he's weary of not being enough or giving you what you deserve. he's also not really sure if he's the marriage type of guy, thinking that it's mostly a label and what would actually change if you did get married (other than having fancy rings?). but that was until that one time when you got a piece of mail and, for some reason instead of it having your surname, it had his attached to your name. this made him feel some sort of way as his heart started to race and his hands got all clammy, the name being repeated inside his head over and over again. huh. it didn't sound half bad, did it? that stayed with him for weeks on end, until one night, when you were all at a bar with friends and someone asked the both of you that annoying "do you think you'll get married?" question. you were about to answer, but were surprised when matty beat you to it, "i think i could see myself settling down." he looked at you with apprehensive eyes, knowing that he had never voiced any interest in marriage out loud and was nervous of what you'd say. but you responded with a blush on your face and a soft "yeah, maybe" while you grabbed his hand under the table and gave it a tight squeeze which he returned. <3

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he's the most gentle boy you could ever imagine, you couldn't have dreamt him up even in your wildest dreams. i guess that's partly due to his shy, soft demeanour. he's always been that way as far as you can remember. well, to you at least. he can be snarky with his other close friends if deeply provoked, but it still takes a lot to get him to that point. but yes with you, he'll do everything in his power to make you feel at ease. if you're anxious or sad, he will listen to you and hold near you while you cry (and let you take out his frustrations out on him). if you're in pain, he will comfort you, wishing he could take the hurt away (and this is where period sex comes in because he knows it will make you feel better...)

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them. cannot get enough of them. each time he sees you he has to wrap his arms around you and bring you as close to him as humanly possible to breathe in your scent. BUT that's only after you started dating. prior to that, yes, he would hug you but tbh it was very hard on him as he was (very obviously) pining for you. before you were official, it would take all of his strength to not keep holding on to you but he knew that if he did it for too long, then his heart wouldn't be able to take it. this boy NEEDED YOU for him to be complete. poor matty. however, now that the both of you are an item, he hurries to wrap his arms around your waist each time he greets you, drawing soft, gentle circles on your back as he kisses the top of your head. he's a precious one.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

the thing is that, even before you confessed you liked each other, matty already knew he loved you so it was very difficult for him to not say it right away. you might be surprised because, well, it's shy subby matty we're talking about here, but he was actually the one who said it first a few months after you were dating. not entirely sure of the situation (as this could be a blurb on it's own because who doesn't love a fluffy 'i love you' story) but when he did say those three words, it took you a minute to realize you weren't dreaming that even sweetheart matty got very nervous and begged you to "please, say something" as he grabbed and kissed your hand. it wasn't until you finally came back to reality and the ringing in your ears stopped, that you said it back to him. and there was a lot of kissing and passionate sex after lol.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

sweet matty tries to pretend like he NEVER get jealous, but it's so darn obvious when it happens that it's actually endearing (most of the time, at least). he won't really get mad at you per se as you are not really the flirty type, but what triggers him is when other guys try to touch you in a suggestive type of way (eg. when a hand lingers on your arm for too long or someone wraps their arm around your lower back). you can tell he is jealous because his nervous tendencies become apparent, like the rapid tapping of his foot or running his hands through his hair nonstop. but if he gets really, REALLY jealous, then his small but possessive side will show, going to interrupt whatever inappropriate interaction is taking place. when this happened the first time, you were taken aback as to how suave he was when he put a hand on your ass and pulled you close to him, continuing on to interrogate the other guy who was trying to get in your pants.

an interesting time was when you (drunkenly) admitted that you once made out with ross backstage (pre-dating him). matty about went and drove to his house to give him a piece of his mind but he ended up just sitting on the couch acting all upset that one of his friends got to kiss you before him. the next day you got a text from ross "hey. is matty alright? he keeps looking at me like i just kicked a baby kitten..."

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

75% of the time they're sweet and gentle with the other 25% being needy, sloppy (in a good way), and breathtaking (literally). he's one of those that will have his sleeves over his hands as he cups your face and sweetly kisses you, cutely grinning against your lips and whispering endless i love you's. or he'll place his arms on your shoulders and wrap them around your neck, bringing you as close as possible to kiss you as if this is the last time he will ever have you, all while countless moans and whimpers spill onto your lips (<- this will usually happen when he's very very turned on).

this man loves to kiss your hands, too. he loves to kiss them as often as he can. whether it is when he firsts sees you, or when you are in a date, or when you’re holding his face.

and for him, kiss that spot under his ear where the jaw meets his neck and he will melt. every. single. time. if you do it while pulling on his hair? that's it. you will have him at your mercy to do whatever you require (not that he really needs any convincing).

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

seeing him around children is one of the most endearing yet hilarious sights ever. he treats them as if they were already adults. he'll have conversations with then about topics that no child should be discussing (eg. the film he just watched or the state of the world). but his favourite is making them listen to music he likes because he wants to be the cool uncle / friend / individual in this child's life and introduce them to good music early on.

you haven't necessarily discussed having children, but every now and then you'll catch him say "when i have a kid, they will..." or "my kid would be / do..." which makes it fairly obvious that at some point he does want to have a family of his own.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

you usually end up waking up first, but you'll be sure to cuddle with him prior to actually getting up for bed. that or having morning sex because that never hurt anyone, did it? unless you have something to get to, as then you'd for sure be late for it because, as we know, quickies aren't a thing for either of you. ANYWAY. a perfect morning for the two of you is a lazy one, really. not having much obligation nor having to think about what the day holds ahead. there are times when you'll just spend a couple of hours cuddled up watching your fav show—matthew would probably end up passing out again. or sometimes you'll be out n about doing some grocery shopping while matty tries his darnest to pick up after his messes only to end up being distracted by a song idea, his puppy, or browsing ebay for some new art to buy.

if you for some reason do have to get up super early, you better be sure there are 5 or 20 alarms set as the two of you combined can set the record for the most snooze hits in an hour.

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

when you finally live at matty's, you get into your ritual of making sure you eat dinner together when he's around. it's filled with him cooking up the new recipe he just found, sharing a bottle of red wine, listening to some of your fav records, a cute cozy endeavour. there's an unspoken understanding that this is the time when you catch up each other on how your days went.

every now and then, you'll take a bath right before bed and he will come in and sit on the chair besides the tub, reading you a few pages of your book outloud. you may have sex, but even if that doesn't happen, you'll always kiss each other softly for a few minutes before calling it a night. he then passes out stat.

when he's away on tour and if there's nowhere to be after a show, you can expect that he'll be in his bunk or at the back of the bus texting or facetiming you depending on the time zone. if it's a very late video call, it's mostly a silent conversation while you look at each other, sometimes quietly sobbing because you miss each other so.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

this is a slow endeavour for the both of you, not because you don’t trust each other (hell, you eventually become bffs), but because you are interested in each other romantically almost from the start and don’t want to ruin your friendship by divulging too much. at the beginning, you’d talk about common interests and what not. as you grew up you'd talk about your relationships trying not to be awkward about it. which btw, when you told matty you had lost your virginity he about passed out because a. you were having sex with someone who wasn't him, b. it sounds like the dude was fucking awful at it (you didn't spare the details mentioning that he didn't make you cum), and c. you were comfortable enough talking about your sex life with him which he secretly enjoyed as he got to take mental notes of what turned you on... just in the off chance he could have an opportunity with you... he mostly listened and nodded and shook his head. on the other hand, whenever he would talk about his dating and sex life with you, you'd question him about every single detail (you have no shame or filter), sometimes making him turn scarlett red because of the questions you ask (eg. what's are your kinks or how do you like to go down on a girl?)

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

for the most part he's one patient human being. he has a pretty chill, calm demeanour in most aspects of his life (eg. the band, his friends, his family, you). he doesn't really believe in getting stressed out too much when things are out of his control, maybe it's all the weed too, though.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

when it comes to you, it's almost like he has a filing cabinet inside his head, filled with anything and everything in regards to you and your friendship / relationship with him. he's head-over-heels smitten that he remembers and notices the most random details about you: your favourite tea condiments (oat milk and honey), your favourite eye shadow colour (cobalt blue), your favourite kind of cat (orange tabby). he also remembers every single one of your exes and has noticed, funnily enough, that most of them tend to have brown curly hair…

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

there have been so many memorable times spent with you, but one instance that often comes to his mind was after one of their first shows. everyone was over at his place. you all went outside behind the house to a beautiful green space leading up to a small creek, everyone sitting down by the edge of the water drinking the many beers and bottles of wine brought along. after a few hours, everyone (including yourself) was properly drunk and it was all bliss. you spent hours upon hours talking to all of them, hearing about their thoughts regarding the show they had just played, sharing their favourite bits from the set. it seemed simple, but knowing that you cared so much about him and the band meant the world to him. he remembers as everyone eventually started heading off to bed, but you didn't, you stayed behind to chat with him even though he could tell you were growing tired. and out of nowhere (probably due to the alcohol in his system) he asked you about a boy you had been seeing on and off. "how come you two aren't together?" "i guess i'm old fashioned and just want someone to myself and he doesn't. so i'm not really what he's after." "there’s nothing wrong with that. but i think he's an idiot for not being with you." you laughed it off casually, but he very clearly noticed as you slowly scooted closer to him until your legs were touching. again, it was a small gesture, but that was the first time when he felt that maybe, just maybe, there was something that could happen between the two of you. and god knows he wanted it because he had been dreaming of being with you so badly. however, it still took years to get there. all good things take time.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he's shy and soft, but he is oh so protective of you almost to a fault; he wants nothing bad to ever happen to you, physically or emotionally. he will defend you whenever someone says anything remotely bad about you. sometimes it's not even something overly malicious, but he can read into things too much when you're involved. like that one time a girl mocked you for your outfit. you honestly didn't think much of it (you agreed really, even if she was a bitch about it), but dear matty here wouldn't shut it as he was more offended than you. he means the best, though.

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

oh god, the dates and anniversaries. he wants everything to be perfect that if something goes wrong, then that's one of the times when he'll actually get stressed out and flustered. he's got the dinner making down to a science (he knows your fav recipes by heart), he knows what you like for physical gifts (he has a list on notes app of things you mention in passing), but when it comes to scheduling events or making reservations... that doesn't come so easily to him lol. he has a horrid habit of leaving it until the last minute. that's probably why at the beginning of your relationship, the dates always (well, for the most part) end up being in your flat, with him making you dinner instead, which you honestly prefer that as it makes it for personal and romantic. after a few months, it becomes an unspoken agreement that you're the one that schedules any restaurant dinners or trips (and he's oh so grateful for it). you just tell him where and what time, and he'll be there with bells on, wearing his best bf matty outfit possible. you better bet that for one of your restaurant dates he'll pull out this number and you won't even want to finish dinner because you have to get back home and shag him. and when he wears this one for your one year anniversary, well, you end up renting a room at the closest hotel because there is no way in hell you're waiting to use that bow tie to have some fun.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he picks his nails and it drives you up the wall. you try to get him to stop but he always swats your hand away when you do so. he does it so often and doesn't even realize it. you've jokingly given him mittens every single year for his birthday as a (not so silent) plea for him to stop lol.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

it goes in phases with current bf matty. it mostly depends on his mood, really. there are times when he'll just choose from the pile of clothes he left on the floor throughout the week and that will suffice. but there are other days when he tries out about 7-8 different outfits until he lands on the right one for the occasion (mostly to impress you).

for some reason he has gotten into straightening his hair every now and then which made you throw a fit when you saw the photos on twitter while he was on tour. the thought of him frying up those beautiful curls of his made you tear up a bit but deep down you were like FUUUUUUUUUUCK ME UP DADDY you're gorgeous.

and don't get me started on the chain necklaces. if he wears those without a shirt on? you immediately have to excuse yourself and go scream into your arm because you cannot handle it. and he is well aware of this, which is probably why he does it in the first place. little minx.

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

nope. even if he waited years and years you're the only person who would truly make him complete. and to be fair, everyone and their mum knew this was the case before either of you fully recognized it or did anything about it. he's like a lost puppy without you, even to the point that when he hears your name mentioned, he perks up looking to see / hear what is being said about you.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

he has one of those freaking electric scooters which he likes to ride everywhere, and he can be very annoying about it. you bet he's inside the concert arenas doing laps on this thing while the stage is being set up.

he will try to get you to ride with him even though you hate it as you feel like you're just gonna fall off and break your leg. but in reality, he gets you to ride along as an excuse for you to hold on to him, because he's too afraid / nervous to show physical affection towards you in many other ways.

once you start dating and he reveals this, you bow to never go on or near that thing ever again. but that same christmas he does gift you your own as a joke (well, not really tho) so you have to resign yourself to ride around with him, but not after getting yourself a helmet because the last thing you want is for your death certificate to read "cause of death: matty healy's scooter."

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

some random things that he dislikes: sandals with socks, raw onion, cars honking, his old cranky neighbour, vaping, hann when he's trying to teach him a grownup lesson.

some things he doesn't like in a partner: when they chew loudly or when they lie. we're talking two very different ends of the spectrum here. make sure you never lie to him if you don't want to see him get truly mad...

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

it's absolutely clear to every single person who knows bf matty that he LOVES his beauty sleep. he makes sure to take a short nap (almost) every day to give him some energy, cuddling up to mayhem and/or you if either are near him. during tour, everyone knows to not wake him up when he's in his bunk otherwise he'll be grumpy and a diva for the rest of the day. when he's not sleeping with you in his arms, he will lie on his stomach with his arms under the pillow and snooze away. he's also an underwear-only kind of guy when he goes to bed at night (or naked if he's just had sex with you).

--------

if you made it this far again, thank you for indulging me :)

let me know if there are any bits you'd like me to expand on. always more than happy to do so when it come to this matty (my dream boy, really).

[cordeliawhohung]

If you’re still doing requests can I get some Simon/Spook fluff? Like sitting on the tub together him just there with knees bent, her between them laid back against him, maybe dozing, and his personal thoughts about it (it being the entire relationship/feelings) I’d LOVE if it was post Everything You Touch (like if she survives and is healed) and his thoughts on that situation. But doesn’t have to be canon to the actual fic as I’m sure you don’t want spoil it. Listen I’d write this FOR you, but I don’t have the courage to ask you for permission to.

okay so, apologies this took awhile to get out. you sent in this request as i writing a very similar scene for the actual story and i was like welp al;sdkjf but now that i'm extremely sick i got the time to sit down and write :3 so in this non-canon little drabble, spook was never seriously injured and is in a bit better head space than canon story just because i wanted to try and keep this as soft and fluffy as possible for you <3 also because y'all deserve some fluff after all the hurt. (also i am like SICK sick and i did my best to edit but apologies if this is a jumbled mess)

wc: 1k

Warm water enveloped his body as best as it could in the small tub Simon found himself shoved into. Legs bent and knees several inches above water, he was honestly a bit cold, especially with the icy surface of the tile against his back. But he would face the freezing cold and more if it meant he got to hold you like that forever. With you nestled between his legs, your back pressed right up against his chest as you leaned your weight into him, trusting him enough to not let you slide down into the water. Not that you really had much room to do so, anyway, with how you had to keep your own legs bent to accommodate all the room he took up. 

How long had it been since he was last able to hold you like that? A time that wasn’t in some taunting dream that haunted him over the countless sleepless nights he had suffered over the last month? When was the last time he could let his fingertips wander over your body, feeling the goosebumps as they stood up along your skin in his wake? He had spent so much time trying to remember the sound your heart made when it thudded in your chest that he almost didn’t think about how he might not ever get to hear it again. 

Simon leaned forward some, arms wrapping around your center as he pulled you closer to him. It was like he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the strict confines of his ribcage, and even then he wasn’t too sure. Melting into him, your hands reached up to rest on his arms, almost as if giving him permission to devour you. But he would never do such a thing, and instead, he pressed his lips gently against the back of your head before allowing himself to settle down once more. 

“You’re so comfy,” you spoke up, quiet voice echoing off of the smooth bathroom walls. 

“Not gonna fall asleep on me are ya, sweetheart?” he teased softly. 

“I might.” 

And that would be fine, he thought. He hadn’t been blind to the difficulties you had sleeping those nights. You were lucky if you were able to fall asleep before two in the morning, and even luckier if you didn’t wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat. Sometimes he was afraid to touch you in those moments, fearing he’d wake you; break you. But then? With the water washing away the stench and the filth of everything the two of you had endured, it was like being reborn. There was something to be said about being made anew while holding you in his arms. Maybe in time he’d find the words. 

“Sure you don’t want to wash up first?” he prompted, though he didn’t dare move an inch. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, eyes long since closed. 

“The water’ll get cold.” 

“You’ll keep me warm.”

He would. He’d set himself on fire if it kept your fingers from going stiff. And though flames were nice, nothing was quite as warm as flesh blood, and he’d pour every drop out of himself if you asked him to. How maddening it was, knowing he’d destroy himself for you. 

Simon continued to hold you as he listened to your breaths slow and body go limp. If you weren’t already asleep, you were damn close to it. It was as his skin started to prune that he realized he wanted to grow old with you; if a man like him would ever have the opportunity to, anyway. There was something that was healing about your presence, something he couldn’t place for the longest time. Eventually he realized it was purpose. 

You gave him a purpose that wasn’t bloody. One that didn’t involve guns or knives and skinning humans as if they were livestock. All you required of him was the softest touch he could muster, and the press of his lips against your skin. You were the first thing in his life that didn’t demand his violence, and yet also the first thing he’d glady turn into a monster for if it meant keeping you safe. 

Suddenly, your body jerked, and the bathwater splashed around with your movement. His arms tightened around you as you let out a sharp sigh before quickly relaxing again. 

“I fell,” you said simply. 

“Fell?” he repeated. 

“Yeah, like… you know when you’re falling asleep, and it feels like you’re falling through the bed?” you asked, to which he hummed in response. “I fell.” 

“Good thing I was here to catch you.”

He could feel you roll your eyes in response to him, but even if he couldn’t see your face he knew you smiled. Before you could say anything snarky in response, he leaned down and kissed your shoulder. 

“C’mon,” he urged, “starting to prune.” 

Before you knew it, he had dried you off and gotten you dressed in the most comfortable pajamas he could find before wrapping you in as many blankets as your body could handle. It didn’t take you long to fall back asleep, face relaxed as your shoulders moved with your soft breathing. 

He couldn’t help but stand at the foot of the bed and watch you for a moment. His eyes traced the features of your face, how your eyelids intermittently fluttered, how your lips slightly parted. You were all his. His to cherish, love, protect. Every time he looked at you there was this feeling that blossomed in his stomach, a question that bubbled in the back of his throat, something that he wasn’t sure he should entertain quite yet. 

For the time being, he settled for sliding into bed next to you. His warmth enveloped you better than any blanket could, and the security of his body was more comforting than anything else you could ever imagine. As the two of you laid there, minds slowly beginning to wander into a fuzzy world, Simon promised himself he wasn’t ever going to let go of you again. 

[heliumshorns]

NOT ME HAVING THE HONOUR OF BEING MUTUALS WITH ONE OF MY FAV WRITERS, HELLO?!?!?!?!?

anyways, i rlly can't stop thinking ab soft Gojo :(

just him getting super emotional while cuddling cus he's thinking ab just how much he adores and appreciates having someone in his life, who loves and sees him for who he truly is cus he's always just percieved as the strongest and not as Satoru </3 (Sugurus "Are you the strongest because you're Gojo Satoru, or are you Gojo Satoru because you're the strongest" HURTS)

it's just softness and fluff everywhere as he slowly traces his hands all over his lovers body; squeezing, caressing, tracing, overall just trying to get himself to believe: "You're here, you're real, i have you."

A tear leaving his eye as he makes eye contact with his love, and they kiss it away whilist caressing his cheeks and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but also reassuring and reminding him that yes, you deserve to be more than a weapon, you deserve to be you.

I'm so emotional ab him :((, this can also count as a request btw, i was mostly sharing brainrot cus im very much despising the jjk manga and am actively living in delusions :)

you can add some soft sex or keep it fluffy and bittersweet (if you wanna ofc, no pressure<3)

I fucking LOOOVE a soft Satoru I DONT CAREEEE

He's so adorable and it HURTS MEEE

(also, HI MOOT AND AHHHHH FAVOURITE WRITER??? I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED ANYTHING PROPER YET😭😭)

tiny drabble under the cut because HDGSHHSHSH

(i didn't write smut but I am planning on working with that 😩)

The way his gentle eyes meet yours isn't enough to put into words. Or maybe it's too much. Words are complicated sometimes.

So it's understandable why Satoru doesn't speak when he gets home like this. Tired. Exhausted. Feeling like his headache is so bad not even a box of panadol can fix. Hell, he feels the pain in his soul.

But the second your soothing voice reaches his ears, it's like all of the turmoil is gone. The world reduces itself to the warmth of your skin and the smoothness of your voice. It becomes the simple moments of intimacy, where you just hold him to soothe his six eyes.

Where they can all, truly, fall shut and rest.

Like a safe space of some sorts. With your careful hands caressing his hair as you both lay, cuddling, all of the lights out. No music. No noise. Just your shared breathing, and heartbeats. How his hands rest on your back, his full weight on top of you, hair tousled and messy. His breaths deep and slow, making him slowly melt more and more into your embrace.

With gentle words and gentler touches.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, my love."

Even being called that makes tears prickle his eyes. My love. Not Satoru. Not Gojo. Not the strongest nor a weapon. Just... someone. A random guy, who met the most amazing person, and just happens to be loved. It's like when he's with you, all worries vanish. You're the calm to his storm.

Even if it isn't visible.

That's the funny thing about storms, right? If you're in the eye of the hurricane, you won't notice until you open your eyes. And he, sadly, has six of them to remind him how he's constantly fighting for his life.

Sadly, some people are born to fight. His heart yearns for the gentleness of a lover, and his body is used to fight the toughest battles. All while putting up the facade that he's the strongest. As if being referred to as such doesn't hurt him more than anyone can. Words, sadly, go through his infinity.

Something he absolutely turns off whenever near you.

It's like you manage to calm even the deepest, most obscure parts of his brain. You make him forget instinct. When he's in your arms, he doesn't need to protect himself from anything. He's safe. Your lips to his dampened cheeks that serve as a reminder that maybe he does deserve love. He deserves to not having to be The Strongest all of the fime.

"Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?"

HE DIDN'T DESERVE ITT WHAT THE FUUUUUCK HE JUST WANTED TO BE HAPPYYYYYYYYY AAAAAAAH

[jobean12-blog]

Could I please ask for a fluffy Javi Pena one shot. Javi and reader have recently adopted Twins (Boy and a girl) and they are going on their first trick or treating as a family 😘😘😘😘😘

Thank you

Love you loads and loads 🫂🫂🫂🫂💞💞💞💞💞

Trick and Treat

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader

Word Count: 849

Summary: You and Javi take the kids trick or treating but Javi's all about the treats and so are you.

Author's Note: Thank you for this sweet request love, I hope you enjoy it! And thank you for your patience, I know it's a few days after Halloween! I had the kids be a little older for this so they could interact, hope that's ok! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thankyou Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff and fun and some flirtiness too

“We’re ready!”

You sing the words from the doorway of the living room and search for Javi.

“I’m coming honey.”

He rounds the corner and stops in his tracks, his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the sides when he sees the three of you.

“Daddy, we’re ready!”

The twins, a girl and boy, run toward him. He kneels down and takes them in, commenting on how perfect they look in their matching costumes.

Once they are satisfied with their pre trick or treating cuddles they rush toward the door, calling for you both.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers when he steps into your space.

“Javi,” you sigh playfully as you adjust your costume…the same one the twins are wearing. “I wish you would have dressed up.”

“I am dressed up!” he says, looking offended. “I’m a sexy undercover DEA agent.”

You try to control your smile but fail when he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. His attempts to steal some kisses are unsuccessful when the twins start grabbing at his jeans and pleading to leave.

“Come on,” you say. “We better go.”

The four of you walk slowly down the sidewalk, enjoying all the decorations that adorn the houses. The twins already have two buckets full of candy and are getting tired.

“Think these two are just about done,” Javi whispers as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. “And I can’t wait to get my hands on some of this candy…and you.”

You kiss his cheek and slide your hand into the back pocket of his jeans, giving his butt a squeeze.

“You just want all the treats don’t you?”

“Damn right I do,” he answers. “And I deserve ‘em.”

He pulls you closer and takes your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back and dipping his head to brush his lips to yours.

Just before his kiss the twins let out a cry and each of them grab onto one of Javi’s legs.

You break apart and look up, spotting a teenager in a scary costume approaching.

Javi leans down and gathers your son and daughter between his arms and talks to them quietly. They cling to him with wide and watery eyes.

“Can you carry me Daddy?” your daughter asks.

“ME TOO!” your son chimes in.

Javi smiles and scoops them up. They lay their heads on his shoulders and snuggle close.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

He starts to walk back to the house and when you don’t follow he turns around and catches you taking a picture.

“You just wanted a shot of my ass didn’t you baby,” he teases.

“Obviously,” you say with a smirk.

Once the twins are home and bathed you tuck them into bed, each with a goodnight kiss.

“Is Daddy going to read us a story?” your son asks.

“He’ll be right in,” you assure them.

Javie appears in the doorway with a book. “You and that bowl of candy are mine when I’m done,” he promises quietly.

Ten minutes later he walks downstairs and finds you lounging on the couch.  

“You started without me!?” he asks incredulously.

You pause with the Twix halfway to your mouth, side eyeing him before you pop it and then give him a chocolatey smile.

“I can’t resist anything with caramel,” you say with a shrug.

He raises his eyebrows and tugs the bowl out of your lap when he sits next to you with a plop. With quick hands he unwraps a Twix and eats in whole.

“Did you even chew that?” you ask as you reach for another one.

He pulls the bowl out of your reach and your eyes narrow dangerously.

“Javi…give me the candy!”

His expression is full of challenge and you sit up, inching closer. He holds the bowl higher out of your reach.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper shout. “Don’t make me fight you!”

He laughs, throwing his head back against the couch. You use the opportunity to lunge after the bowl but right at the last second he lifts it just out of reach. You land in his lap and he smiles victoriously.

“It worked,” he says with a smirk.

You give him an exasperated look. “Now can I have my candy?”

“It’s the kid’s candy,” he corrects.

“Javi.”

“Baby.”

“It’ll cost you kisses,” he simpers.

“That’s fair,” you purr as you lean into him.

Your fingers dip inside his open shirt and tease his skin just as your lips brush. “You’re gonna have to put the candy down Javi. I want your hands on me.”

He drops the whole bowl to the rug with a crash and the loud thud resonates through the quiet house.

“Fuck,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting.

You grab the front of his shirt and do the same but you’re also trying to suppress your laughter.

“Think we’re ok,” he whispers, popping one eye open.

“What’s so funny?” he asks when he sees your eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Didn’t know it would be so easy to get you to drop the candy,” you giggle.

[4acoffee]

Prompt: “Am I a hero or the devil’s son? Can’t figure out what side I’m on.”

pairing. todoroki x reader

word count. ~900

genre & warnings. fluff, insecure todoroki, comfort

notes. here have this edited repost of an old drabble i did a while while back... mans so difficult to write for but so gorgeous he's a trap in every sense i swear. only i would suffer stiff shoulders the rest of my life for him anyway <3

The steady hum of the air conditioner running at full speed filled the air and left your skin pleasantly chilled. Your room was dark, long curtains draped over your windows, and the soft plush of the mattress covers under you were steadily making your eyes more and more difficult to keep open.

You could have fallen asleep so easily, if it weren’t for the warm body currently pressed gently to your side.

Earlier, UA's resident pretty boy, Shoto Todoroki, had unexpectedly turned up at your room, head hanging almost sheepishly, and asking in his soft, world-peace-fostering voice if he could come in.

And although it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find him hanging around your room at the dorms, he was generally always accompanied by Midoriya, or Iida. Your cozy little room was somewhat of a designated rest area for your friend group with your extra pillows and blankets, and the fluffy pink beanbag that Uraraka often curled up on.

Which is why you peeked behind him uncertainly at the empty space in the hall, but let him in nonetheless.

When he had seated himself comfortably on your bed, you attempted to ask him if everything was ok, and the only answer you received was a simple nod.

He looked exhausted. While the young hero was not as volatile as one particular blonde classmate you have, you know he still struggles to express himself easily. You figured he would open up to you in his own time if he really wanted to. So you decided not to prod and plopped down on the bed next to him, doing your best to ignore the way your heart started to race against your will at the proximity.

As you messed around on your phone, over the course of an hour, you came to the sudden realization that the two of you had unconsciously gravitated towards each other. Soon, your legs were curled up to your chest, with one hand gripping your phone, and the other getting sore because of the deceivingly heavy head of silky half and half hair now resting, frankly, uncomfortably on your shoulder.

You would have believed he was asleep with how quiet and still he was being, but his fidgeting hands on the cotton of your oversized shirt proved that he was still awake.

Besides the coma inducing fact that his mindless fussing was making your top steadily reveal the skin of your stomach, even in your groggy state you could practically feel the current of thoughts plaguing Todoroki.

He radiated something anxious and tired at the same time, and you couldn’t help but steal glances at him to try and gauge what he was thinking.

Just when you figured that maybe you’ll never truly figure out the mystery that was Shoto Todoroki, his hands stilled, and he said something so softly you struggled to hear.

“...am I a bad person?”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Did you hear him correctly?

You tilted your head at him and hummed in question.

He sighed deeply and you watched as his lovely heterochromatic eyes turned dark and sad.

“I’m trying my best to be the hero I always wanted to be as a child, but sometimes I wonder if I actually deserve to be here. My family has been through so much trouble because of me. Mom is in the hospital because she always had to protect me from him, Touya left because I had to be better than he could be, Fuyumi and Natsuro, father always neglected them because of me. It’s my fault that we couldn’t be a normal family. My fault the we can’t be together. All the time, I see real families, happy families around me, that need protecting — and I can’t help but think, — do I really deserve to be the one protecting them? If I can’t even keep my own family safe, do I really deserve to call myself a hero? Hero’s are supposed to be good, — am I good?”

You listened in astonishment as he rattled of reasons why he was a shitty person. His speach trailed into mutters and slurred words that you could barely put together. He sounded like he was barely concious and you think that at this point, he was more talking to himself.

In his sleepy rant of self-deprivation you did catch one thing as he buried his head further into your shoulder.

“Am I a hero or the devil’s son? I can’t figure out what side I’m on.” He said, dead serious.

A sputtered laugh was the only response you could muster, why did he have to be so dramatic sometimes?

He narrowed his eyes in indignation at your laughter and looked up at you through his lashes. You grinned apolagetically. “Sorry Todoroki, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You shifted to face him better, “It’s just — none of that is your fault. You know that right? No, clearly you didn’t know that or we wouldn’t be here.” You said, and he pouted further.

“It doesn’t matter what your past was like, we’ve all done some bad things in our lives, and what happened to you was completely out of your control. Just because you made some mistakes, doesn’t make you any less of a capable hero than any of us. In fact, it makes you better, because you know what there is to lose.” You reassured him.

He looked at you carefully, “Oh, you really think so?” he asked you, so hopefully you swore you felt a part of you melt.

“Of course” you told him, he spared you a soft smile.

You smiled back and nudged him playfully, “Now if your done moping, could you get off my shoulder, — I lost feeling in it hours ago.”

Masterlist

[kaminocasey]

Oh my, your post about Tech's soft voice got me swooning! (It's true though, he has a lovely voice) So, if it's alright with you, I'd like to make a request for a fluffy Tech x Reader fic. Maybe it's one of your first times sleeping in the same bed as Tech, and in the morning, he really doesn't want to let you go. He so rarely gets this kind of affection, so he's just holding you, whispering sweet nothings trying to get you to stay. Thank you so much, you deserve all the love and praise!

Hi! I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! (Literally 9 months, I'm the worst lol, please forgive me!) I'm gonna try to get back to a point where I can open my requests again!

I got hit with massive writer's block for Tech and then After that finale, it got harder and harder to write for him lol. Hopefully this makes up for it? I got a sort of idea for a series... so Lemme know if you think it's something you guys would want??

Soft Mornings

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; smut-ish? suggestive themes

Taglist Form

You feel Tech’s warm body against yours before you open your eyes, snuggling against his chest more, your bottom brushing up against his length. 

“Good morning, darling.” He chuckles, softly, kissing your neck. 

Your previous night had been so perfect. Better than anything you could’ve ever imagined. Parts of it start to flood your memory, making your face go warm. 

“Good morning.” You bring his hand to your lips and he snuggles his nose into the crook of your neck. “How did you sleep?” 

You’d been slightly afraid that Tech wouldn’t be able to sleep well since he’s never slept next to another person before and you know how much he enjoys his space. But when you’d offered to go back to your bunk, he’d only pulled you close to him, bringing the covers up over the both of you and asked you to stay.

“I think I slept better than I’ve ever slept before.” He admits and then starts to smile. “I’m afraid I will not be able to sleep alone now.”  

“Oh no. How awful. Guess I better take up permanent residence here.” You laugh. 

He chuckles again and you roll over to face him. 

“Hi.” You smile up at him.

“Hello.” He smiles back, his voice still soft and raspy in a sleepy way, making you melt like putty. 

His hair is sticking up in different directions and you imagine yours is too, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kissing him softly, you run your hands up to cup his face, which is starting to feel slightly stubbly from not having shaved in a few days. You take note of how good the five o’clock shadow looks on him.

“I’ve got work soon.” You sigh against his lips.

His sigh matches yours. “Don’t go.” 

You laugh, softly. “I have to.” He wraps his arms around your lower back, pulling you up against him. “I’m sure I could persuade you to stay.” 

“Try.” You whisper. 

He pushes you onto your back and hovers above you, smiling so softly down at you. “All I’ve wanted since meeting you is to wake up next to you. It’s a new feeling for me… But getting to wake up next to you, and seeing how absolutely endearing you are with ‘bedhead’ and your sleepy voice, makes me want nothing more than to do this every morning.”

You look up at him, wide eyed at his confession. Tech’s not been one for being forthright with his emotions, so this is new. And it melts your heart. You’d love to hear him tell you these sweet nothings every day. 

As if he can read your thoughts, he kisses you again. “I know I don’t speak about how I feel a lot… but I feel safe here… with you.” 

Your chest tightens and you pull him toward you, crushing your lips to his. He groans softly, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, anchoring you to him and the bed.

“Let me convince you to stay.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

“I don’t need any more convincing.” You smile with a hum. “I’ll call in and we can stay in bed all day.” 

“Sounds lovely.” He nuzzles his nose against your jaw as he presses his growing length up against your already eager warmth, making you gasp softly.

“Maybe you could use… other incentives to make me stay.” You tease him and he chuckles, darkly, catching on immediately.

“Say no more, darling.” He nods as he shows you just how much he loves waking up next to you. 

You really could get used to this… perhaps one day, he’d leave the war and battles behind to be safe here in this bed with you… where nothing bad could happen to him, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much every time he leaves. 

Perhaps, he’ll choose these soft mornings with you, too.

TAGS:

EVERYTHING @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz  @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

[chouxsardine]

Amabo Te---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: When jealousy and insecurity get the best of you, when he wants to teach you a lesson. Will you give him a chance?

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 5002

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, established BDSM relationship, dom!jake/sub!reader, brat! reader, the infamous Jake snap, caning, alcohol, language, jealousy, insecurity, self-esteem issue, self-deprecation, unprotected p in v sex, crying, a mix of soft and mean Jake (?), nerdy Latin sh*t,

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort (with fluffy ending?)

Author's note: Sorry for the wait! inspired by this idea from @hearts-hunger. I've been wanting to write about this since the first day I've seen it, so I kind of took the idea and run with it. It turns out a lot softer than I expected (oops). A new attempt for me to toy around with power dynamics. Every single one of you is deserving of love. I love you a lot. Enjoy!

🎧: How Many More Times by Led Zeppelin; Sorceress by Jess Williamson; When Anger Turns to Honey by Chelsea Wolfe; Hey Now (When I Give You All My Lovin')" by Romare

You know damn well what you’re doing. The thumping of the drum aligns with your heartbeat, melting into your veins along with the few martinis that you’ve downed consecutively. The air is a mix of ostentatious colognes, sweat, and smoke that wafts off dancing and heaving bodies. The floors feel sticky under your feet, and the label of the dress you are wearing has irritated you all night. You can feel it digging into your sides, the two almost invisible row of plastic nubs cutting into your skin with each exhale and rubbing against it with every movement. Isn’t it amazing that such a trivial and hidden matters can make such a fuss? You know damn well what you’re going to do—bratting to get Jake’s attention—but you don’t know why you’re doing it. At this point, the anxiety and the alcohol in your system have managed to form itself into a vicious ouroboros, and you can’t tell which one is the cause.

Have you and Jake been spending less time together recently because he was busy? Yes. Have you been honest when Jake asked if you want to go to this party with him? No. You have also had a rough week, and you just want to cuddle with him on the sofa, watching some silly rom com while languidly poking at a bowl of Mac and cheese with generous amount ketchup squirted on top. However, you are afraid to say no because you don’t want him to think that you are a spoiled and needy brat. Welp, you guess this is where lying about your feelings leads to: uncomfortably standing in a night club, being a brat in another way. In the back of your mind, you know that if you’d only be honest and tell the truth, Jake will get you out of here in a heartbeat with no judgement. But the alcohol is messing with you, and it doesn’t help that a girl has been hitting on Jake this whole time.

She was also wearing a tight minidress—a searing red one with spaghetti strap, hugging her body in all the right places while also showing it off just enough skin to leave space for imagination—one that makes the one on your body eclipse. She puts her elbows on the bar counter while leaning purposefully so that all it takes is one careless movement while reaching for one’s drink to touch her breasts. Jake wasn’t paying attention to her, or at least not now, not yet. You feel jealousy shoot up your veins. Having left Jake’s side when he met an old acquittance and their conversation was getting too long , then being blocked by the crowd rushing into the dance floor when you plan to stride back, you are now standing on the other side of the room, anxiously tapping your feet, waiting for the hideous song to end.

You take another sip of your drink, and as you raised your eyelids, you saw the girl getting off the bar stool. She should’ve known better than standing up holding a full shot glass in her hands or perhaps she shouldn’t have done that silly little hop trying to impress. Of course, her heels got hung on the footrest a second too long, and she fell forward, throwing herself on Jake. He caught her, his hand on her shoulder to restore her balance. His action was neat and brief, his complexion barely changes. It is clear as day a spontaneous and innocent response, but for you, that’s the last straw.

You didn’t even care continue watching for their further exchange—or whether there was one. You down your drink and slam the empty glass on the counter a bit too harsh before stepping onto the dance floor. You make eye contact with the nearest guy. “Would you like to dance?” The music is loud and it is dark. You lean in closer and ask again when he doesn’t hear you.

Now you are sure that Jake has seen it. When he catches your eyes, a pang of guilt and shame zips through you, you feel like a child being caught red-handedly cheating on a test. You know what you are doing is wrong and petty, you are doing it to get his attention. But in the heat of the moment, with your emotions tangled up, jealousy gets the best of you. You try to look away, and that’s when you see the snap.

It is something that he has conditioned into you. Whenever you’re acting up in public, Jake’s snap is his warning to you. And when it’s quiet around, it’s a gentle but firm squeeze a little above your knee under the table. You got three strikes, but you usually get back in hand just with his warning glance or him simply raising his hands a little.

Jake was leaning back against the bar, his elbow resting on the counter. It is a quick snap between his fingers with a flick of his wrist. There was no way that you would hear it above the music, but in your brain, it rolls loud like thunder.

Out of the reflexive response, your body acts before your mind catches up. You freeze for a second, and you feel a phantom touch like a subtle current rolling over the area above your knee. You try your best to feign your indifference, peeling your glance away. He started it, you lie to yourself.

As the song comes to an end, the guy you were dancing with asks to buy you a drink. You accept and follow him to the bar. Before you even sot down, you feel Jake coming over and standing behind you. His hand is on your waist. A gentle squeeze. Subtle but possessive.

“Hey, what—” The poor guy is confused.

“Would you please excuse us?” Jake’s voice is calm and smooth. You don’t have to turn back to know that he is smiling politely. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

The man cocks his eyebrows. You don’t dare to read his expression. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” Before he can respond, you turn on your heels and let Jake lead you out of the bar. Jake isn’t even gripping hard on you, but by now, every nerve in your body has learned to be attentive and obedient to his touch. It is only when the cold air outside hits you that you try to break away from him.

You knew you have gone to the point of no return. You have achieved nothing with your childish act, and to continue a tantrum is your only way to save face.

“Let—”

“Shut it,” Jake cuts you off, rage boiling behind those two words.

“I’ve got three strikes! That was only one!” You retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Then consider this your strike two.”

“Fuck you!” You blurt out, instantly regretting as the words left you lips. You see a moment of confusion and incredulous flash through Jake’s eyes before anger takes over. He lets out a dry laugh. You shiver.

“That’s it.” Jake releases your hand, taking off his jacket, flings it over your shoulder with a push at the small of your back. He walks the two of you to where the car was parked. He still opens the door for you and puts his hand up to protect you from hitting your head before circling to his side.

In the few seconds of silence between your side of the car door closing and his side of the car door opening, you sag like a bounce house with a puncture, all the furiousness has left your body, replaced by the bone-deep regret and exhaustion. You want to go back to a few hours ago, where you would say, “I don’t feel like going out tonight. Can we stay in and watch a movie?”, where you would say, “I don’t want to be here anymore. Can we go home?”, where you would straight up look into his eyes and tell him, “I miss you so much, I just want to spend time with you, alone.”

The broody silence stretches through the whole way home. You almost hop he would just leave you in the car. You feel ashamed when he yanks your side of the door open with his hand up on the frame.

Once you are in the house, Jake walks directly to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a glass. He stands in front of the French window, his thumb hooked in his belt, the left side of his jacket riding up.

There is no sign of the rage you expected. You are still wearing his jacket, your fingers curled up in the leather. The shame that was burning inside you clashes with the icy feeling down your spine.

You expect him to push you against the wall, or spit out “strip”, or at least a “go upstairs”. You know that you will drop down on your knees the second the first syllable of any those words parts his lips. Or something through his eyes, a silent scowl, a stern look. Even when Jake is silent, his eyes always convey something—-or at least you can always read something from them.

But he is not even looking at you now.

Please don’t ignore me.

“The silent treatment now, really?” It can’t be any clearer that you are fighting a lost battle. Your voice bounces off the silence and stabs you like a boomerang.

Jake finally turns around. He lowers his head and smirks. The next words he says make you icy cold. It’s like you are standing on a frozen lake and have misjudged the thickness of the ice beneath you feet; with a misstep, it cracks, and you fall into the piercing cold water.

“Do you think you deserve ‘treatment’,” he accentuates the word, “of any kind, my dear?”

The nickname is stripped off all its concomitant affection, only adding to the insult with biting irony. You’d rather he didn’t use it at all. The tears threaten to spill. You clench your fist.

“That’s your way of talking, huh?” Jake paces towards you, each step slow and steady like a confident predator cornering his prey, “some yaps and some whines, but my little brat just loves running her mouth.”

Brat. That word punches you like a left hook. A brat. That’s exactly what you have been tonight.

You know for sure you are finally going to submit, and once you reached that stage, it’s going to be pure bliss; it will be the closest you’ll ever felt to him. And that’s all you want, to be close to him. Sure, a beeline from point A to point B is straight and clear, but where’s the fun in that? Being a brat feels like an elongated foreplay. Just as you are ashamed of the amount of swearwords and moans you let out when being edged, you can’t deny that you love it. Love it so much that you are doing it to yourself. You wanted it so much, but you refuse to accept it without some struggle. You feel unworthy when things land on your lap easily. The emotions you will experience after winning the lottery probably would be fear and suspicion, as you contemplate “now that I’m hit on the head with pennies from heaven, what will I lose in exchange? You are plagued by the fairy tale in which the king is ravished with joy when he finds a precious jewel but then proceeds to lose his beloved once as the backfire. After all, life never gives anything for nothing, a price is always exacted for what fate bestows.* You believe the same goes for love. Jake came into your life so suddenly, sweeping in like a whirlwind, with such velocity and intensity that you are afraid one day he will exit like one, leaving your heart in the ruins. You have to earn his love, you will be his good girl.

“Have I been ignoring my princess? Attention, is that what you want? Jealousy, is that what got into you tonight, um?” His finger grips your chin.

You both love and detest how Jake has always been able to strip you bare with such ease, your body and your desire. To see through the “yes” behind the “no” when your pride and stubbornness get the best of you, and the “no” behind the “yes” when you overexert yourself and try to please while ignoring your limits. It does takes quite some effort to reach this almost telepathic stage, a bumpy trail full of frustration and trial and errors, but it’s worth the effort. When the voice inside your head gets loud and your body is aching with unsoothable desire, the wrong punishment will immediately send you crying in a non sexy way.

You have no choice but to look into his eyes. One simple stare from him dissects your thought like a scalpel. With one clean, cold cut, he slices you open. Exposed, vulnerable.

You are already playing a dangerous game, walking the tight rope, teetering on the edge. Now, you are pulled off balance by his eyes drilling into you, demanding complete honesty and obedience.

“Please.” You mumble, lowering your eyes.

“Please, what?” He tilts your chin right up.

Your voice is meek, barely audible, but legible enough for Jake. “Please punish me, Sir.”

He lets go of you. Immediately you miss his touch.

“Upstairs. You know what to do.”

You are on autopilot as you remove your clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor and nudging them into the closet with your feet. Out of sight. The sequins on your dress shine like a flamboyant humiliation.

It can’t be more than five minutes until Jake comes into the room, but every single second feels like purgatory to you. You let out a long sigh of relief as you heard his footsteps. You hear him shuffle behind you, and then the sound of him rummaging through the drawer, collecting the things he needs. Finally, you see his feet in your lowered sight as he steps in front of you. You keep your head down, knowing better than looking up to see what he has in his hands. But you can’t escape the shadow that was projected onto the floor. Something long and thin.

“Please don’t tie me up.” You blurt out before immediately biting down on your lip.

“I’m afraid you’re not in the position to bargain, dear, ” He’s right. “This is a punishment; it’s not supposed to be what you want. You take. Is that understood?” His voice looms over your bare skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Yes, Sir.”

Then something hard touches your thigh. You look down and see the end of a cane. The cane. A blessing and a curse. It isn’t very often that Jake uses a cane on you. To you, it hurts more than a paddle but turns you on more as well. The cane draws a wiggly line down your legs, stopping at that area above your knee with three taps. Your kneeling frame perches up in response, your body instantly connecting the touch with Jake’s warning squeeze.

Then, a clear and crisp snap break through the quiet room. Your head shots up spontaneously and you crash into Jake’s eyes. His dominance is dialed up to the fullest from this angle. His long eyelashes cast shadows under the eyes, deepening his brown pupils. His lips are lightly parted, his eyebrows relaxed. He looks appreciative, like admiring an art piece of his own creation.

“Ah, so you do remember.” He makes a statement, but it sounds like a reprimand in your ears.

“I…”

“You will have plenty of chance to speak tonight, but not now.” Honestly, you are secretly glad that he stops you because you don’t trust your voice not to break. The apology lodges and throbs in your throat.

“We put a lot of time and effort into our warnings. It doesn’t come easy, I think you know that,” Jake continues, “you chose, deliberately, to ignore and violate them tonight. So I’m sure you have good reasons to do so.”

The cane nudges the inner side of your thigh, signalling you to stand up. And then a goad with the tip on the back of your sacrum, making you topple forward, with your hands gripping on the end of the mattress.

The whoosh sound of the cane as it comes down startles you even more than the stinging, closely followed by Jake’s gruff demand: “Enlighten me. Why?”

The delayed pain is now blooming over your skin. Why? All the previous shame resurfaces, forcing you to recall every detail. You drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

The next hit comes down harder, moving up slightly from where the last one lands.

Still silence. You close your eyes tightly, tears burning behind your eyelids. You want nothing more than being honest with Jake, but somehow you just can’t squeeze the words out of you. Thinking back now, it is so not worthy to act up something so trivial. Everything would have been fine if you just be honest right from the start, if you communicate your feelings directly. But why can’t you?

Whack.

The next one hits an inch to the left. The cane is worse because it gathers the sensations. If the paddle feels like putting your hands into a basin of hot water, the cane feels like splashes of hot oil. Obviously, you are still an independent grown-up with full control of your body autonomy, but at the moment, you so desperately need to transfer that control. Even if it’s temporary, so that your brain would stop lying to you. And Jake is demanding exactly that.

Why? Why can’t you be honest with him? Time has proved that this man has been nothing but respectful, understanding, and non-judgemental. What are you afraid of? What more can you ask for?

Whack.

“What’s your color?”

“G..green, Sir.”

You press your lips together hard. An involuntary tear escaping from the corner of your eyes. Your brain is determined to play a tug of war with the help of your stubbornness, but your body revolts. The pain is numbing your volition.

Whack.

Now that you’ve known each strike is calculated. Jake never hits the same place. They are always placed from each other with some space so that the pain spreads and connects like drops of paint on paper, spreading into a watercolour in different shades of pink. Your muscle contract. You are absurdly wet; it feels almost purely physiological, even though you know the agony is only a calling. Deep down there’s the yearning— craving to be touched, to be soothed and caressed. But are you worth it?

Whack.

“I am an ungrateful, attention-seeking brat.” You cry, your forehead dropping down on your laced fingers.

Jake is grateful that you can’t see his expression. And maybe that’s a good thing for you too. Because if you see the heartache in his eyes, your pretense of strength will fall apart in an instant. It rips his heart to hear you degrading yourself. It tortures him when you can’t see how worthy, beautiful, and precious you are the way he does. It hurts him to know that he fails to earn your trust, to earn your complete honesty. He knows your body; he has learned your threshold of pain and pleasure, and has the skill of a pharmacist when it comes to mixing the two to give you euphoria. However, he is an unarmed man facing the voices inside your head, he is clueless standing in front of the thorny-hedged gate of your heart. And it confounds him too when sometimes hurting you is the only way he can show you love. If you would only let me, princess, if you would only let me love you.

This time, there is only a gentle tap on the fleshiest part of your butt.

“Nice try. That’s not the answer I asked for.” It takes everything in Jake to maintain his domineering facade. Bullshit. You’re a loving, gentle, poetic, sensible soul that just happens to be too good at feeding yourself deprecative lies.

By now, all the fight left in you is a poorly-crafted sandcastle swilled over and over by waves of pain. The good pain. Cathartic. Liberating. Hypnotizing, almost. They converge into the mysterious song of the siren, whispering in your ear: “Stop fighting. Give it up to me.”

The voice sounds warm, assuring, familiar: “Let me in.”

That busts you right open.

“I know there was nothing, I only did it to get your attention.” Once the hardest part was out, you find yourself unable to stop. The box-ed up feelings cascade out of you. “I..I don’t want to be there! I d-didn’t tell you because…I don’t want to look n-needy. You’re too good for me. You’re one of countless good things that have happened to me, w-what if you leave?”

Ugly sobs ripple through your body. Your legs threatening to give out as you shake your head in guilt. Tears burn you blotched skin and gone cold way too quickly, leaving damp trails on your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m sorry.”

Between your whimper, you hear another swoosh of the cane coming down. You tense up subconsciously. There is the sound of the cane hitting flesh, but the anticipated pain never came. Before you could think further, your were pulled up and sat in Jake’s lap. His woodsy musk envelops you as he tucks your head under his chin. Pangs of guilt shoot through your body, hurting way worse than your behind. Slowly but surely, Jake’s warm and strong hands find the nape of your neck, pulling you towards his chest where you bury your face, your shoulder shudders, and you cry. Jake's heart contracts painfully along with each of your sob. He closes his eyes tightly.

“You silly, silly little fool.” He sighs, rocking you back and forth, “it would be so much easier if you just say so from the start. But my little kitten just won’t go down without a fight, will she?” His finger combs through your sweaty strands.

“Is that how you love, little flame?” Jake murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple, “always so fierce, so effusive, like a supernova?”

You keen on that word. You think you’ve never loved a a nickname more. Jake’s steady heartbeat against your chest grounds you and slowly restores all your senses like books being put back onto the shelf after being swept down to the floor in a storm. Slot by slot, mise en place.

Feeling that you’ve calmed down, Jake takes your face in his hands. “Let me show you.” He leaves kisses all over your face, pausing between each one to speak.

“This. Is. How. I. Love.”

He touches his forehead to yours. It is impossible to look away, impossible to feel anything else other than him.

“Allow me to love you.”

The sentence is like a curse, one that undid some wicked spell, one that wilts all the thorns on your heart, one that undid you completely.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel the butterfly in your stomach. You know it was triggered by the long-caged bird in your heart flexing its wings. Soar. Soar head-on into love. Take the fearless flight and never regret thy fall.

The slightly weird sensation on the left side of your face makes something click in your brain. You hurriedly pull Jake’s hand down and see a swollen mark welt across his left palm.*

That’s where the last hit lands. He takes it for you.

“See? equal.” He holds up his palm.

“Jake…” Your lips quiver. You hold his hand in yours, desperately kissing it. Jake hardly seem to mind at all, using his other hand to wipe away your tears. His eyes infinitely gentle.

“Do not feel guilty, that’s not my point. I am sorry for not letting you trust me enough. I love you, it is my fault to not make it known to you it all the while.* We’re even now, clean slate. Only trust from now on, okay?”

Nothing reassures you more than a clean slate; that means you are not completely fucked up, that means you still have the opportunity to redeem yourself, to do better, and this time you know that you have a better chance because you are not doing it alone, you have Jake by your side, and he has managed to make you believe that he will always be by your side.

You press your lips against his. His tongue dips into your mouth. You roll your hips on his thighs. The need rekindles inside you.

“Tell me what you want, princess. Anything for you.”

“I want you. Jake. Please make love to me.”

With that, he lifts you up and flips you over. You land on the bed, letting out a chuckle as you watch him get rid of his shirt and pants. Your limbs go warm when his body covers yours. The pendant of his necklace drags down your sternum and dipping into your navel as his kisses your breasts. His mouth finds your nipple, his tongue circling around your areola, feeling it grow harder and perk up even more. You let out a squeal, arching your back, your clit meeting his pelvis for a futile relief. You feel him, hard and determined, flush against your entrance. Your muscles tense up, clenching around the emptiness. The silky desire flows down through your veins, gathering downward.

You lie open like a book, allowing his velvet tongue to explore every letter and punctuation. You are completely at his disposal. Jake’s movements are slow and skilled, tentalizing and hypnotic

“Please.”

“Please, what?” He repeats the question with a cheeky grin.

“Please, fuck me already.” The verb sounds so vulgar, yet you’ve never said it with so much love and tenderness. Fuck. You love the plosive in the end. Explosive, fervent, triumphant.

“Please,” Jake mused. His hand snakes between your bodies, his finger plunging into your wetness.

“Do you know,” his fingers curls and scraps, collecting your slickness and stroking them up and down your labia, “how do they say ‘please’ in classical Latin?”

“Poetic nerd.” You quipped, followed by a vindictive press of his finger against your tissue that makes you mewl.

“Amabo te.” He whispers as he holds his cock in his hand, his tip tapping on your entrance along with each syllable, each of them dripping onto your skin like honey. Knock, knock.

“Amabo te.” You mindlessly repeat after him. The sound is magical and mesmerizing, rumbling off your tongue with such gracefulness.

“And it just happens to also literally mean,” he pushes his hip forward, making every inch pronounced. The double suspense makes your breath hitch.

“I will love you.”

He bottoms out in one long, silky thrust. Every sensory system in your body fires up. Air is whipped out of your lungs and restored by his kiss. Your hands map his back, hugging him tighter, nailing him into you even deeper. Jake only pulls back slightly before pumping right back, cherishing the silky heat of yours as if there’s no tomorrow. His sharp pants fall all over your neck and your collarbone. The pleasure is building up at a scary pace.

Jake’s face is so close to yours, you see yourself in his eyes, fused with nothing but bliss and desire that danced through his blown-out pupils. At this moment, you are love. The realization sends a tremor through you. For the first time tonight, your body and brain and in sync. No more fighting.

“Can feel you, love,” Jake grunts, the vein visible on his sweat-coated forehead. You buck up your hips, spurring him on.

“Take me with you.”

For a few heartbeats, the world went silent. Never has an orgasm felt so good. Zings of fire sparkles and spreads. Your mouth hangs open; the pleasure robbed your voice, pinning you down as a time stamp. You are preserved in the moment like a butterfly specimen. It makes you want to exist like that forever.

Your leg jerks, urging him to stay as he rolls off you. In your peripheral vision, you saw you were still holding hands, his fingers laced and lodged with yours like a promise.

Jake’s lips graze your ears, a strand of his curls falls across your lips. His voice is raspy and low, with an easily detected tenderness. “Did I do it? Will you let me love you?”

You know it takes a lot of energy out of him as well. And now, a faint trance of postpositive guilt and the languid afterglow mixed with the subspace are catching up with you. Every inch of you is uncurled and loosened, but in the back of your mind still remains some sanity the size of a laundry basket where you have a heart to be strong, be strong for him; he takes such good care of you. You pull Jake’s welted palm against your bare chest, close to your heart. You squeeze his hand, followed with three gentle pats on its back. Just like the way he tells you that you are safe and he’s not leaving when you are blindfolded and tied up.

You know you will talk more about it in the morning over plates of French toast or blueberry pancakes, but for now, everything is good…..and that conversation doesn’t sound scary to you at all. You know that the man lying next to you will dote on you with nothing but pure love and acceptance. And that doesn’t sound half bad at all.

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*1: adapted from Stefan Zweig, Marie Antoinette: The Portrait of an Average Woman

*2: inspired by Three-Line Whip: A First Time Maledom BDSM Novella by James Hardcourt

*3: adapted from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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Yay! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated.

my other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones || Coming back to me || Warm Honey || He Would || Hold Me (1) (2) || blurb: Chin Tattoo, Ribbon Bow 🎀, post-show