#and then do a small drabble with questions

[notsodelirious]

you know what sounds so good rn? smoking weed with jason, cuddling him and cockwarming him. i think he’d love the closeness and the intimacy, heightened sensitivity for the warmth and skin to skin contact. i love high sex and intimacy send tweet.

hi, yes, absolutely you are very right

also I say I’m not taking anymore requests, and then turn around and write a drabble for an ask that wasn’t even a request lol—anyway, enjoy <3

synopsis: Smoking a blunt with your boyfriend while you sit on his dick

notes: NSFW MDNI, also said in two different places but like recreational drug use (it’s weed)

tags: established relationship, fluff, cockwarming, gn!reader (no mentions of the reader’s genitalia), wc: 600 words

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

 You brought Jason’s hand up to your face, a loose grip on his wrist as he held the joint for you. 

You took a small hit before settling back down against his chest, letting the haziness of the weed and the soft evening wash over you. 

It was seven. The sun was just about setting outside your apartment window, bathing the entire room in yellow and gold. You’d pulled the curtains closed but small rivulets of sun still poured in through the cracks. 

The TV was playing, an old movie that had come out before either of you was born—it had largely become forgotten but it filled the static silence. 

You giggled a little when you felt Jason’s chest rise under your head, then still, before he finally exhaled, making sure not to blow smoke in your hair. 

“Still okay, sweetheart?”

You hummed as you looked up at Jason, resting your chin on his chest—his cock was still buried deep inside you, a quiet but insistent presence as you tucked yourself against Jason. It was the closest you’d ever be able to come to crawling into his skin while cuddling. 

And it was a compromise you both enjoyed. 

You’d stolen his shirt halfway during the sesh—not entirely sure why, but you now enjoyed his shirt as he lay naked under you like a grecian statue. 

“I’m good,” you smiled before reaching up to hold his face and kiss the corner of his mouth. “You?”

“Doing great, love,” he smiled down at you as he squeezed you softly with his arm. “More?”

You easily shook your head, more than content with how you felt in that very moment. 

You would have suspended time if you could, basking in the closeness and weightlessness of life. 

Jason stretched to put out your blunt in the ash tray—the movement made his dick shift in you a little. Jason hushed you softly as you moaned. 

You felt his lips on the crown of your head, his arms readjusted around you, his heart beat beneath your ear. 

“Love you,” you mumbled as you kissed his neck, then shoulder, an absent almost soothing motion. 

It didn’t matter how many times you said those words, you meant it every single time, with the same affection every time.  

You never tired of saying them, not when it meant you got to watch Jason relax under your weight, watch the small shy smile that spread across his face when he looked at you. 

He’d mumble it back—some variation of it. Never I love you too, but everything else he did for you was steeped in so much adoration you’d never once questioned if he loved you too. 

“Still okay on my dick, pretty thing?” you heard him ask softly—for a moment you forgot about the question entirely, entranced by the feeling of his voice deep in his chest. 

“Hmm?” you looked up at him, squishing your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good. Do you want me off?”

“No, sweetheart,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. He mulled over his words, for a little while—a long while actually as you watched him try to sort his words in the right order before saying them, “You can stay there as long as you like.”

“Yeah?”

As long as you liked sounded nice. Forever, an eternity, like this sounded nice. 

Soon enough the illusion would be shattered when the sun finished setting and the moon rose in its stead; when you’d sleep off your peaceful high to get to work the next day. 

It wouldn’t last. 

But for a moment you could pretend that’d stay like this with Jason. For as long as you liked. 

 •─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

hi, I wasn’t meant to write this but I’m sick and up late so here you go <3

also as a side note: I headcanon that Jason doesn’t smoke (because you know, dying of asphyxiation might do that to a person) but,, the ask was really good and I couldn’t resist (also, Jason is a grown man and can get high if he wants, I just think he would use edibles)

anyway, requests are closed but you can find my masterlist and my wips list here!

[lyrmouche]

hello hello!~

i got an idea for you that might sound.. somewhat fun and cool?? i dunno, lmk!!

i'm not sure if you're okay with/you do drabbles inspired by songs but if yes! could you do one inspired by the song "After Dark" by "Mr.Kitty" including the one and only malipo kinich??

(i recently saw your headcanons including him and i must admit that they're one of the best on tumblr)

my vision was something like a bit of a love confessing moment? but not some boring confession like "hi i love you" etc. NO!!!plzgawdno,,

imagine just reader and him just sitting somewhere on a cliff and the reader just starts whispering something like in the lyrics of the song

yuh.. i hope you'll understand........ i'm really sorry if you won't get my vision 🙏🏽🙏🏽

── ㅤANON ILY BRO THIS IS PEAK. so like i spent a bit of time trying to think of a good drabble and uhm my brain has a small vocabulary and small knowledge of writing so like 🤓☝️ this was the best i could do😔😔 i started tweaking cus i didnt know how to reference the song

── ㅤ warnings: horrible writing and grammar, ooc, i did gn reader cus like uh yeah didn't know if you wanted fem, male or gn 😭

"you're pretty quiet today, something on your mind?"

"not exactly, just admiring how nice it looks around us. its... calming in a way, with you especially. going out like this is better with a friend, y'know?" you responded calmly, kicking your feet at the view below you, playing with a small grain from the rocky cliff kinich brought you to hang out at

"...are you sure there's nothing more to it?" he questioned, his head tilting slightly as his hair swayed slightly from the cold breeze, his eyes softened ever so slightly, almost as if to admire you

"there might be." you two stayed quiet for a while, letting the night hold your bodies close together it felt right, relieving, even. you took a moment to gather your feelings until you suddenly blurted out something you didn't think you would say tonight

"your voice... it consoles me in a way, it feels very..pleasant. I like when you talk a bit more." you turn your head to look at the guy next to you, who was looking slightly surprised at your choice of a confession

"that's one way to add something."

"i guess so"

"Well, I'd like to say the same." was his last words before pulling you into a warm embrace, resting his chin on your head as he tried to think of something else to follow up with his previous bunch of words. kinichs lips parted slightly, his voice softer than usual, "Although, i would need to ask..." he cups your cheek, taking a moment to register his thoughts while taking a good look at your eyes.

before he knew it, your lips gently pressed against his, nothing too harsh or anything that lacked, just the feeling of your love he's been waiting for. you pull away after a brief moment, blush tinting your skin and his from the kiss you both shared

"your lips are soft like winter" his whispered, thumb brushing over your bottom lip with a slight smile appearing on his face, appreciating the view of the one in front of him

"you know, I've been waiting for this moment... when we're finally alone"

how i feel after writing some ass

[snow-blower]

Sansa stark drabble?? Maybe modern au, both clingy after a long really cold day??? ❤️❤️

Not completely sure if this is exactly what you wanted, kind of turned out differently than I planned, but for my first time writing Sansa, I think it turned out mostly okay. Hope you enjoy though :b

❥ CLING TO YOU

SANSA STARK X F!READER, MODERN AU

TW: Soft lesbians, Christmas fluff written in the summer, messy writing because it's a first time for writing Sansa, slight nsfw themes, but no smut. Does it flow? Idk I've re-read it so many times that I cannot tell anymore Words: 1,1k MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK

You only got home about an hour ago. Bundled in your warmest clothes, hair slicked back into a bun and cheeks rosy from the cold, you’d slipped inside your and Sansa’s apartment. You were immediately hit with a relief of warmth, the little snowflakes resting in your hair melting away. Sansa had put the heating on before you'd gotten home, giving it the perfect moment to warm the house for you.

Sansa had taken your handbag from you with a soft kiss to your cheek and a gentle murmur that her sweater was ready for you on the bed and that there was plenty of hot water for you to take a nice, long, and relaxing shower. You’d thanked her with a small kiss, any ounce of irritation from the day drifting away.

Now you’re snuggled up in the overstuffed armchair in the living room. It's facing one of the larger windows that gives you the perfect view of the snow-covered city below. Beside it is a little round side table that's home to a little potted cactus and a little trinket jar. Pushed against the wall beside you is a large bookshelf that's stuffed to the brim with your favourite reads, along with some you've yet to read. 

There’s an empty spot on the shelf where you had plucked your current read from. It's a soft Christmas romance, one you’ve been dying to read forever. Sansa had seen you eyeing it up every time you passed the bookshop together and ended up buying it for you a few weeks prior. You’re a few chapters in already and enjoying every word you read. It’s the perfect read — found family, soft romance, a little pinch of chaos under the mistletoe and of course, big Christmas trees and gentle snowfalls. 

As you read, you can hear the clink of mugs and the soft whistle of the kettle as Sansa makes you both some warm drinks, mixing with the soft lullaby that plays from the record player on the coffee table by the couch. The song was Sansa’s choice, a favourite of hers that she always picks for cosy evenings in.

“Is it as good as you hoped, my darling?” Sansa’s voice comes from beside you a few moments later. She's setting down two mugs on the side table, her straight hair falling around her as she leans down. One mug is a chamomile tea with extra sugar — yours. And the other is a caramel coffee with lots of syrup — hers.

You murmur a small thanks and nod at her question whilst reaching out for her. Your hand wraps around her wrist, gently tugging her to sit beside you. The armchair is big enough to fit you both, albeit a little too snugly, but it works just fine.

“S’perfect,” You murmur softly, “They’re smooching under the mistletoe,” 

Sansa lets out a small hum, peering over your shoulder to skim the page you're on.

“Think we can put up mistletoes this year?” You ask, turning your head so your lips are only a breath away from her own. 

You haven’t decorated the apartment yet. Both of you have been too busy to do it together, and neither of you wanted to do it alone. And so, the boxes of Christmas decorations have stayed untouched in your shared closet.

“Why? So you can kiss me under them?” Sansa teases, her lips catching your upper lip for a brief second. “Don’t need to do that, baby. Can just ask and I’ll kiss you whenever you want,”

You make a small sound in the back of your throat, blush rising to your cheeks as you grin playfully. “Can I have a kiss now?”

She doesn’t even reply, simply dips her head down to capture your lips with her own. She kisses you softly, her hand drifting up to cup the back of your head. Her lips linger on your own, leaving you warm and tingly when she finally pulls away.

A breathy giggle escapes you as you rest your forehead against hers. “M’kay, But I’m still putting up mistletoes.”

Sansa rolls her eyes playfully. “Of course you are, darling.” Not that she dares complain. How can she when it’s just an extra excuse to feel your lips against her own?

For a moment, the two of you just sit there. You curled into Sansa’s side, her arms wrapped snug around you and your forehead against her own. Her hands roam your body, brushing along your waist and down your hips. Your own hands are settled on her forearms, thumbs brushing along her soft skin before one slides up to tangle in her soft auburn locks.

The smile that curls at your lips when Sansa presses her lips to your cheeks, and then the tip of your nose, has her heart fluttering a moment quicker inside her chest. It takes every ounce of strength for her to not pin you under her and kiss you stupid. The want in her body screams at her to do so, but she can’t. Not when you’re so peaceful and content in her arms. She won't ruin that for the world.

“Read to me, baby.” The words fall from her lips before she can stop them.

“Read to you?” You repeat her words back, a teasing lilt in your voice. She nods, looking a little shy, which you can't help but think is the cutest thing. “I like listening to you read,” She adds after a moment, hiding her face in your hair as though trying to recover.

“So, yes, darling. Read to me.” The words come out a little more sure now, and she reaches carefully for the book still in your hand. 

“Then read to you I shall,” You giggle, taking the book back from her when she hands it to you, now open on the page you left off on. You give her a moment to settle beside you, helping her tug the big fluffy blanket that was folded over the back of the armchair, tucking it around both your bodies.

Sansa draws you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder as you begin to read. Your voice is soft and soothing, mingling with the soft music still playing from the record player. She grins against the fabric of your sweater whenever you do the silly accents for characters. And her hands twitch against your thighs whenever you reach a particularly dirty paragraph that has both of you blushing.

The world outside is cold and bitter, and the days grow longer, but wrapped up and tangled against each other, life seems to come that little bit easier. You'll be back at work tomorrow, and those Christmas décor boxes may remain untouched a few days longer, but you know the right time will come for you and Sansa to unpack them. Which is usually accompanied by hot cocoa, ugly sweaters and plenty of shared giggles.

[soulsxng]

Jaspern sighed from where he stood with Pythius, Darrow, and Cilatyve. So far, the meeting for the announcement was going about as well as it had the last time such a thing had happened. One or two people had interrupted the Trio before they could even begin explaining, and others grew emboldened enough to join in.

By the time the Ahnian king had even turned his head to make a "Here we go again..." comment, the situation was already well under control. Ippuru having drifted down from where the Creationary Trio and Siffo had been hovering, so everyone could see them. A few especially rowdy individuals were bold enough to advance forward a bit, as though their proximity would somehow intimidate the being.

Those few hit the ground particularly hard when Ippuru's feet touched down-- laid out in some exceedingly unnatural positions, not unlike a box that had been carelessly crushed underfoot. At least the other dissenters were likely uncomfortable at the most, from how they had been forced down as well.

"They really aren't the brightest." Pythius muttered under his breath, giving a little grin when it got an amused scoff out of Jas, and a soft giggle from Cil. "Guess they cracked under the pressure, huh?"

"Being so close to Creation is enough to make most people say and do crazy things. Though you wouldn't think anyone would be more inclined to pick a fight with a feeling like that looming over them."

"There used to be a lot of people like that in Wilacri. Fighting always worked for them before, so why wouldn't it now? These people are-- were the same way, I bet!"

Said people had finally fallen quiet. Where the sounds of panic, of begging, and of anger had once bubbled up in response to their punishments, there was now nothing. Leaving a now visibly irritable Ippuru to float back to the other Creationary beings.

"...As the lot of you appear to be quite finished squandering everyone's time, We shall begin without further ado. If everyone could listen closely, and refrain from voicing any questions until We say otherwise...We would rather not have need to repeat Ourselves more than necessary."

[dollfacefantasy]

caleb x fem!reader

you and caleb used to play fight a lot, but things are different now that you're older

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fauxcest, dry humping

a/n: um hehe just a small drabble cause i've been thinking... also i like the pipsqueak thing idgaf kiss me about it. imagine this takes place when she’s staying with him.

"isn't this around the time you'd usually cry mercy, pipsqueak?" he breathes, his smooth voice warming the air next to your ear.

a small grunt escapes you as you try to lift your arm to shove him off. your effort is pointless though. his grip tightens around your wrist, and he brings your limb back down to the floor without much effort.

“caleb, quit it!” you whine.

he just laughs at you. his body doesn’t move away an inch. he stays right where he his, hovering over your smaller frame.

the two of you used to play fight all the time as kids. you’d squabble over the remote or your toys. whiny arguments would morph into a small scuffle, a test of wills. so it felt natural today to lunge at him when he held the book you wanted to read just out of reach. getting physical made sense. you’d been so agitated with him keeping you here, you needed to blow off some steam. it just didn’t feel so good when reality set in as he wrestled you down to the floor like always.

“it’s not funny,” you say and try to jam your knee up into his abs.

he dodges the move and continues to smirk at you. “maybe not to you. but it’s pretty funny from up here. pretty cute too,” he teases.

you scowl, squirming some more. in your younger years, you’d always been able to fight back a little. you’d lose in the end, sure, but victory had been in reach a few times. now, caleb is stronger. he’s bigger, and he doesn’t fight like a scrappy high school kid but rather someone with training. you’re starting to realize you have no chance now, and part of you wonders if you ever did. or maybe he’d been going easy on you.

as if to taunt you, he slides your arms up above your head and grabs both your wrists with one hand. even with his other one free, he keeps you pinned with the same amount of force. it’s fucking humiliating. you feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he drags the back of his fingers along your jaw, cooing at you.

“you always used to get so angry like this too. so frustrated. you’d think you would’ve learned not to start fights you can’t win,” he mocks.

his thumb comes to sweep along your cheekbone, back in forth in slow strokes. he stares into your eyes while he does, almost studying you. it gets you heated for a whole other reason you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“get off of me,” you squeak, your voice much less aggressive now.

“maybe i will if you beg enough,” he taunts, “if you use your manners and say please like a good girl, i’ll consider it.”

“shut up!” you say. you kick a few more times and buck your hips to try and get loose.

in response, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams it back to the ground. you let out a little growl, assuming you’ll have to restrategize. but then he pushes his pelvis down on top of yours.

you gasp. all the fight leaves you in a harsh blow because now, unlike any of the other times you play fought with him, you feel a solid bulge pressing between your legs.

your eyes widen, and you sputter. you’re sure you look totally stupid right now. but you don’t know what else to do. there’s no question about it. he’s got a boner, and he’s rubbing it right up against you.

“i told you. you’re not gonna win. might as well surrender,” he says. he speaks in a completely even tone, as if nothing is different.

“c-caleb. what are you doing?” you start, “don’t be weird.”

“i’m not being weird,” he defends with feigned innocence, “we always used to mess around like this. what’s got you all shy now?”

you know why he’s asking. because he knows you won’t say it. the answer is so easy, yet you can’t bring the words to leave your lips.

“you know what,” you whine softly.

he chuckles and leans in even closer to your face. “maybe i do. but i don’t think that it’s weird. we’re not kids anymore. you can’t whine and wriggle around like that and expect me not to react,” he murmurs.

your heart beats harder in your chest. you can feel every thump. before you can say anything in return, he grinds his hips again, rolling his hardened length right up against you. and this time, it feels good.

“i- caleb- we can’t,” you whimper, biting your lip.

“we can’t? we can’t what? we’re not doing anything,” he says before grinning at you, “it doesn’t count if it’s over the clothes.”

you want to smack him, but both your arms are still immobile.

“it’s still weird. we’ve never- i don’t see you like this,” you insist, though the last statement is a complete lie.

he tsks and shakes his head before pushing his erection between your legs for another time. this one draws a whine out of you. his hips jump forward at the sound, but he doesn’t let his face show that burst of desire.

“what do you see me like then?” he whispers.

silence fills the air between the two of you as you fail to answer. you know what you see him as. you know your crush on him goes back years. you know what fantasies fill your head at night when you’re alone.

but you also know how you want to see him. what you’re supposed to see him as. what you’ve tried to limit his role to for so long.

“it’s ok,” he finally says, “i won’t make you say it if it’s that hard. but i know you like this. i know you, remember?”

he grinds against you again, but this time it’s not only once. now he sets himself into a rhythm, consistent swings of his hips against your center.

“i know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re ashamed,” he says, “i know when you want something, but you’re too scared to ask.”

ducking in, he kisses your neck. you moan in response, putting no effort into suppressing the noise now.

“that’s right, princess. your big brother knows you better than anyone, doesn’t he?” he coos mockingly.

“caleb!” you whine. you internally cringe at both titles, but outwardly, your face still contorts with pleasure.

“what?” he laughs, “that’s what you were gonna say before, wasn’t it?”

“but i didn’t,” you whimper.

“but you thought it, and it’s all the same to me,” he teases.

he refocuses his mouth on your neck again. his lips move over the column of your throat while his cock continues pressing right on your pussy. it feels better by the second. maybe it’s because he’s kissing your neck too, you’re not really sure. all you know is the hot, sparkling feeling in your stomach is building.

nipping at your pulse point, he then sucks on the skin like he wants to leave a mark. his tongue laves at it for a few moments before he pulls off.

“i’m gonna let go of your arms. you’re gonna behave, ok?” he mumbles against your skin.

“mhm,” you whimper and nod. the overt submission feels pathetic, but losing the feeling of him would be even worse.

“good girl,” he praises.

he keeps his word and releases his hold on your wrists. the air feels cool on your skin that’s all warmed up from his hands. now with his other arm in use, he can snake one around your ass and boost your hips. the new angle allows him to thrust against you harder.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts. you feel his lashes brush your neck as his eyes flutter.

your arms loop over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. more little mewls spill from your lips. you can feel his stiff length sliding right up against your folds through your clothes. every swipe brings a blissful burst of friction to your poor throbbing clit.

“there you go. i got you. big brother’s got you,” he mumbles mindlessly. he chokes out a moan into your shoulder as his hips move like they have a mind of their own.

your body starts to squirm more. that hot feeling inside is reaching a boiling point. you clutch at his shirt, your nails digging in so hard they threaten to tear the fabric. the constant push and pull of his lower half is nearly hypnotic. it seems like you’ll be under him forever while also on the brink of letting go.

after a few moments more, he pulls back to look at you. his eyelids hang low, heavy with his desire for you.

“god, you’re so pretty. so fuckin’ beautiful now,” he says and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes shut while your breaths mingle. “i knew you wanted this too. just look at you. almost falling apart, and i haven’t even really touched you. i knew no one else could do this better.”

all you can do is whimper softly and cling to him harder. you pull on him as if trying to pull him into your body, to meld your two beings into one. the pressure down below feels dull and muted, but it’s blooming nonetheless.

“yeah… you’re gonna cum all over your pretty panties,” he mutters, “get ‘em all nice and wet so i can have some fun with ‘em later.”

“caleb…” you whine, useful words falling out of your grasp in this moment. one of your hands flies up and laces in his hair. your fingers clench into a fist, giving the strands a sharp tug.

he groans and bucks his hips extra hard. “c’mon. cum for me, baby. let me make my sweet little angel cum,” he murmurs.

it really doesn’t take much to get you there. the friction burn he’s rutting you both into works, and you feel yourself hit the high. euphoria rushes through you. a little breathy whine erupts from your lips. your back arches off the floor, but he keeps you cradled against him securely.

the whole time you’re cumming, he’s still humping you like his life depends on it. it’s when you start to come down, that he finally explodes. he buries his face in your neck, letting out the loudest moan you’ve heard so far. his arms tighten up around your frame as his fingers dig into your malleable flesh.

his hips jolt forward in random twitches now, chasing the last remnants of release while he spills inside his pants.

when he’s done, his breaths are harsh and labored. he nuzzles the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek and receding off your body. his palm runs over his face lazily.

“fuck, i gotta change now,” he says, not bothering to look down at the dark patch at the front of his pants.

without even really thinking about it, you reach forward for the waistline. you’re already craving more of him. but before your hand can get there, he takes your wrist.

“not so fast, pipsqueak. i think you should actually beat me before i let you have the real thing,” he smirks.

[flowersforbucky]

lacy

bucky barnes x reader

i don't usually write short drabbles for bucky but i miss him and thought i'd put this little thought into words to get out of a bit of a writing slump that i've been in ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ happy valentine's day, babies

summary: bucky doesn't remember undergarments having so much fucking lace in the forties. but he thinks he can get used to it.

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, adult themes, sensuality and implied smut, language, reader is afab, sweet teasing and banter, tfatws era

word count: 770+

bucky barnes masterlist

“What? Was lingerie not a thing back in the forties?”

Bucky watches from his position on the bed as you unzip your cocktail dress, the fabric falling from your shoulders and to the floor around your feet. He lays back against the headboard, his hands crossed behind his head. His eyes roam from the strappy heels that you have yet to shed and up your legs until his eyes settle on the black lace thigh holster that connects to a garter belt and matching panties.

You remove the small pistol from the holster, placing it on the dresser beside you before stepping away from the pool of burgundy colored satin at your feet. You crawl onto the bed, the peaks of your breasts threatening to spill out of your bra. You look up at him with a raised brow, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“It was,” he hums. “Can’t say I ever saw anything quite like this, though.”

He’s never seen anything quite like you is what he’s really thinking, but he bites his tongue. His feelings for you are far from being a secret, but he sometimes worries that if he truly spoke his mind every time he thought about how attractive he finds you, he’d never shut up.

His words are still true, though. He’d seen plenty of silk nightgowns and camisoles, but this – the intricate floral embroidery, the lace-lined edges of the cups of your bra, and the way the tight material accentuates every one of your curves just right – this is new territory for him.

“Never?” you quip. You crawl over him, positioning yourself across his lap. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, the contrasting warmth of flesh and iciness of vibranium eliciting goosebumps across your exposed skin. “Not even online?”

He digs the tips of his fingers into the meat of your hips with the faintest amount of pressure. He doesn’t miss the way it makes you squirm, your clothed center nudging against the growing bulge concealed by his jeans.

“Online?” He huffs a laugh. “I think you’re forgetting that I have a flip phone.”

“Would it convince you to finally get a smartphone if I said I’d send you pictures of me wearing shit like this?”

He laughs, confident that you’d do just that. Considering the fact that you had been teasing him during a mission just a few hours prior, he doesn’t doubt for a second that you’d be more than happy to utilize technology to make him flustered.

“Tempting,” he admits. He dips a metal finger under the waistband of your panties, toying with it before lightly popping it against your skin. “But I have a hard time believing that pictures could do the real thing justice.”

You roll your eyes, playfully poking him in a spot between his ribs that you know to be ticklish. “You’re no fun.”

As swiftly as he can, he flips you so that you’re now pinned between him and the mattress. You look up at him with wide eyes, taken off guard by the sudden change in positions. Still, you automatically spread your legs enough for him to lay between them. He hovers above you, his gaze trailing from the mounds of your breast that peak out from the confines of the lacy bra and up to your lips.

He sits back on his knees, pulling your thigh back so he can grab one of your feet in his hands. He slowly slips the high heel off, not taking his eyes off of you as he tosses it behind him on the bed. He repeats the motion with your other foot, and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“I'm no fun, huh? Does that mean you don’t want to sit on my face?”

Teasing you a little won’t hurt, he supposes. You’re normally the one dishing it out, and he’s normally the one blushing like a school girl – but he’s got to admit, he likes the way you’re looking at him right now. His heightened senses pick up on the familiar scent of your arousal and your quickened heart rate. He doesn’t need you to vocalize how you’re feeling or what you want; your body gives you away.

“Are you gonna take all of this off of me, or am I gonna have to?”

Your voice is teasing, but Bucky doesn’t miss the edge of impatience that slips through. He chuckles, taking one last, long look at the frilly undergarments. He likes them a lot, he can’t deny it – but he likes you without them even more.

recent bucky fics

all's well that ends well to end up with you - bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together

starry eyed - reader gets a gift from her secret santa

[nezuscribe]

(slightly suggestive)

another little drabble for arranged marriage!gojo but imagine a moment before he confessed but something was looming over the two of you. it was crossing the line of friends, not necessarily husband and wife, but two people desperately in love and didn't know how to say it.

you were in one of your late-night frenzies, your brain so muddled with every thought that you decided to do what you knew best: bake.

you often find yourself in this situation as of late, but it truly seems to be the only thing that helps. you wanted to tell gojo how you were feeling, but it was too far in, so you decided something simple and sugary would help you in the moment.

at this point, the walk to the kitchens was something you could do blind, and considering how many times you did this, you already knew where all the ingredients were.

you set out your sugar and flower, and go rummaging in the cold cellar for some butter and eggs. you try not to think about how at dinner gojo slid closer to you, your arms touching as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. or how a couple days ago he had found you in the library, reading next to a windowsill, cozying up next to you as he read the book over your shoulder.

you're so lost in your head with sifting the ingredients that you fail to realize that the very man himself had come up secretly behind you, curiously watching you in your element.

(he'd never admit that he'd first gone to your room, and only came down here after he realized you were gone).

but, unlike the last couple of times, you'd gotten used to his stealthy ways. he was quiet, sure, but you could recognize him by his slight breath alone, or the way he smelled faintly of cloves.

you try not to let your breathing hitch, or let a smile grow on your face as you decide to break the silence.

"if you try to scare me while i'm baking you better rethink your choices," you warn him and hear gojo snicker quietly behind you.

gojo moves from where he was standing, and he leans his back against the counter next to you, craning his neck to look over at your bowl.

your eyes dart to the side, to the way his arms are resting behind him as he balances himself back on them (or the way his arms bulge and veins pop).

"what's on your mind tonight?" gojo asks, knowing you only do this now whenever you're stressed out.

"not much," you mutter, despite wanting to say you, you're on my mind.

he tsks, not buying your lie as he leans in a little close, his head blocking your view of your mixing bowl as he tries to get a little taste with his fingers.

"hey!" you cry, smacking him lightly on the back of his neck, "your hands are all grimy!"

you watch as he peers at you from the corner of his eyes, glaring at your offensive remark as he retracts away, a small pout on his face as you grin in slight victory.

"my hands are clean," you hear him mumble petulantly and you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his antics. the closer the two of you got, the more you found out that his closed-off and aloof demeanor was just a facade for a dramatic, grouchy man-child.

there's a comfortable silence for a moment, one where you're mixing and one where he watches you mix. you don't really notice the quiet anymore, just another added sound when you and gojo grow more comfortable together.

"how was your day?" he finally asks, a simple question, but you know he's using it as a mask to find out what was wrong with you.

"good," you say with a shrug, starting to gently fold in your wet mixture with your dry one, "you weren't at dinner so i was actually able to eat in peace," you add, trying to sound indifferent when really it's what spurred this entire thing on. how, when you realized that you missed seeing him, talking to him, being near him, you were really, really, missing him. and that's not how friends are supposed to act. or, at least, from what you've heard.

gojo smiles, a soft look on his face. you're trying to be sarcastic, he knows that, but there's something...deeper behind your words, something that he too feels.

"the eastern tribe took up more time than i thought they would," he explains, his blue eyes glowing when he notices the way you slightly relax, "i tried telling them that my wife was waiting for me, but apparently peace negotiations can't be postponed."

you bite your lips, trying to hold back your giddy smile at his words. you know he's probably teasing you, using the phrase my wife as a way to get out of a boring meeting, but you love it nonetheless.

he knows you do.

"those bastards," you murmur teasingly, hearing his loud laugh as he lightly shoves you with the point of his boot.

"yeah, well, they don't have wives back home," he crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips into a thin line, "so they don't know the feeling."

you swallow thickly, not looking over at him when he says that.

there's another silence as you continue to fold the batter, sensing that same feeling wash over the two of you.

"let me grab a..." you turn around, head craning to look for a spoon to dip in the batter, needing to make sure the sweetness wasn't too overbearing (and because you liked tasting the batter before it was sent off to be baked thoroughly), but stop when gojo pulls the bowl in closer to him.

you watch as he glides his finger across the sides, not letting it touch the actual bulk of the mixture, and brings it forth towards your lips.

his brows cock upwards, as if he was waiting for you to try it.

you give him a look, nose slightly wrinkled.

"i swear my hands are clean," he promises, crossing one hand over his chest as a sort of pledge, but that's not what holding you back, shouldn't he know that?

your mind is working to beat the thrill of your heart, the one that's pulling you towards him like a magnet, the one that desperately wants to have his finger in your mouth.

you bite your cheek for a second, eyes flickering up from his to his finger, and some sort of heat in you takes control as one hand gently grabs his wrist, pulling his hand closer to your parted lips.

your tongue darts out, your mouth closing over the digit as you taste the sugary batter coating your tongue. you feel dizzy, your stomach twisting, a heat taking over your body as your tongue swipes over it, licking it clean.

it's nothing overexaggerated, nothing too crazy. you lick his finger the way you'd like your own, but fuck, this isn't your own finger and gojo's looking at you with his pupils blown wide, the blacks overtaking the blue in his eyes.

your hand is still holding his wrist, your lips gliding over it as you pull away, breathing slightly less when you glance up at him.

gojo swallows thickly, hoping you don't see the bulge that's growing in his pants.

"good?" he chokes out, his voice thick in his throat.

"yeah," you mutter, the batter still lingering on your tastebuds, "it's perfect."

fuck, you're both screwed.

[whimsyvixen]

So I may have written a little something 😗👉👈....

ℝ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕥 (short drabble)

Fic: Predator Killer of Killers

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Warlord Predator x Human Female Reader, Grendel King x Human Female Reader

Synopsis/Excerpt: You were not aware of the physiological changes in your body, so you were oblivious to their sudden interest.

WARNINGS/TAGS: NSFW, explicit content, dark themes, alien/human, teratophilia, size difference, ovulating, pheromones, choking.

A/N: I did very little to no research regarding the culture/mannerisms of yautja so I kinda just winged this one, you guys. I needed to get this idea out of my head, even if it was done poorly. It was haunting me for days! 😭 Enjoy! ✌️

As a human, you lacked the ability to smell any change in pheromones. This made it hard to distinguish moods and social cues amongst the yautja, a race of alien warriors that kidnapped you from earth and forced you into servitude weeks ago.

This developed sense of smell they possessed would soon be your damnation.

You were going about your duties when you spotted him. Flanked by his entourage of warriors, The Warlord Predator was a marvel to behold, his massive and scarred frame depicting a being with monstrous strength and power. You've seen him battle at the arena and witnessed his physical prowess amongst his clan. He was truly a force to be reckoned with. You moved out of the way, providing them a wide berth, sticking as close to the wall of the cave as you waited for them to pass. You swore you felt the ground tremble with each of the yautja's languid steps, the audible scrape of his jagged cape trailing behind him.

Unbeknownst to you, you had started ovulating that morning, your female pheromones running rampant in the air and causing the nearest males of the group to glance your way. You were not aware of the physiological changes in your body, so you were oblivious to their sudden interest.

Then the Warlord Predator caught a whiff of your scent and nearly snapped his neck to look back at you. His intense stare unnerved you, your body on edge as his eyes trailed over your feminine curves in a seemingly hungry manner. Thinking you must have done something wrong, you quickly lowered your head and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible.

Your heart kicked into overdrive the second he stepped towards you. Trying to calm your breathing was difficult, your eyes widening with terror when his sharpened feet came into view and you felt the heat emitting from his body. He was like a burning furnace, your body sweating from the close proximity of the menacing male. You could hear inquisitive clicks and low rumbles from him, his curiosity evident as he tilted his head to observe you carefully.

A sudden, musky scent attacked your senses. It was a scent unlike any other, earthy and... intoxicating. Before you could question it, you felt your mind turn heady as your senses grew lax with the powerful smell. It was like a drug, your mind losing any rational thought as the scent nearly suffocated you. No longer were you tense, waiting with baited breath if he would kill you. Instead, you lay back against the jagged wall and mewled when the male pressed himself eagerly against your smaller frame. Everything felt sensitive, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You nearly choked on your saliva when you felt the hardened bulge on his loincloth dig below your chest. Inhaling deeply, you let out a weak gasp at the deliciousness of his scent and felt your body react strongly in turn. The small nub between your legs pulsated so fiercely you had to clench your thighs together to alleviate the unbearable sensation.

"W-what are... you...doing to m-me..?" You breathed out the words. You shook your head to clear your mind, only to let out a groan when he forced a knee between your legs and had you straddle his thigh. It placed your naked vulva in direct contact with his reptilian-skin, your feminine juices soaking him in your scent and making him purr with satisfaction.

The yautja glances down at your half lidded eyes and panting mouth, eyeing the strings of saliva with rapt attention before grabbing you by the neck and lifting you close to his face. He was not gentle, nearly choking you to death and causing you to squirm in discomfort. You let out a pained whine, hoping to receive some mercy as he dangled you feet above the ground. His mandibles clicked with the movements of his growling mouth, his language undecipherable to your ears. In a chilling tone, the translator around your neck lit up with his response.

"What am I not going to do with you?"

[dissociativewriter]

a short sylus x reader drabble; not proofread (wrote this in like ten minutes)

taglist: @dolledbunnytail

You shuffled into Sylus’s room, staring at the floor. He lowered his book and looked at you over his glasses.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a little kitten wandering by.” A smirk played on his lips as he eyed your avoidant expression. “Why the guilty face? I hope you didn’t scratch up my furniture with your claws,” he chuckled.

You looked up at him, fidgeting with your hands over your stomach. “Would you want to do your wonderful, lovely partner a favor with absolutely no judgment or questions asked?” You gave a small, hopeful smile to try and convince him.

It didn’t work, though, and he raised an eyebrow. “I would do anything for my wonderful, lovely partner, however,” he took a sharp inhale, “what exactly would this ‘favor’ entail?”

You looked away again, and Sylus rose from his seat with a heavy sigh. He crossed the room with only a few long strides, standing before you as you continued to avoid his gaze.

“Sweetie, look at me.” You still didn’t. With a click of his tongue, Sylus took your chin between his index finger and thumb, directing your eyes to meet his own. “Now, what is this favor?”

You swallowed before finally whispering, “Can you just lay on top of me? Like full body weight, I want you to crush me.”

Sylus stared at you for a moment, watching your serious expression, before bursting out laughing.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s not funny! I want the pressure, but I can get someone else if you’re gonna be mean about it.” As Sylus tried to catch his breath, you wrenched your chin out of his grip. “Maybe Luke or Kieran would be nicer—“

You could barely take two steps before a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. “Now, now, kitten,” Sylus drawled. He rested his chin on your shoulder, lightly nipping at your neck. “Don’t you dare ask someone else to fill the role that’s rightfully mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Big baby,” you grumbled.

“Only for you,” he whispered, tightening his grip.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

I'm feeling mushy and desperate for some domestic fluff, can I pleeeease request the boys feeling baby kicks for the first time? 👉🏼👈🏼

hehe, omg, anon. I love fluffy, domestic 141. I love dad!141 even more. (or rather soon to be dads.) These are just quick drabbles that border on headcanons. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (mdni): swearing, pregnancy, domestic fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 400

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

“Hello, love,” murmurs John as he walks up behind you.

Placing his chin on your shoulder, he wraps his arms around you, resting his hands on your pregnant belly. He kisses your neck and then your cheek.

“Hello, you,” you reply, turning your head so you can grab one more kiss from him.

John snuggles a bit closer, his palms flat against your round belly, rubbing softly. He looks down into the pot full of cooking chili.

“Chili tonight?” The baby kicks, making the both of you jump. “Was that the baby?” he asks.

“It was.”

John’s surprise becomes joy.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Grabbing Johnny’s hand, you bring it to your belly. The middle of his brow furrows.

“Wait for it,” you whisper.

You feel the small shift inside you as the developing fetus moves. It’s happened enough times today that you know exactly what it is.

The kick comes, and you beam at Johnny.

“What the fuck.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as Johnny places both hands on your belly, waiting for the next one. It comes, and his smile matches your own.

“That her moving around in there?”

“Yes,” you answer.

Johnny’s smile widens as he kisses your belly.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon cradles your pregnant belly, a look of genuine concern on his face. “This is good?” he asks, removing his hands. “The baby should kick that hard?”

“Why are you making it a question?” you laugh, grasping Simon’s wrists and bringing his hands back to your belly. “It’s a good thing,” you reassure, smiling at your husband. “It’s perfectly fine.”

The worried expression melts a bit as Simon gazes at your round stomach. The corner of his mouth quirks into a hint of a smile. “I put that inside you,” he murmurs.

You hold back a laugh. “You sure did.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Rays from the morning sun peek through the slots in the blinds. You are on your side, snuggling your pregnancy body pillow. Beside you, the bed shifts. Kyle’s hand finds your hip. He slides that hand in front of you to cradle your belly. You sigh with contentment as Kyle cuddles up next you, making you the little spoon.

The growing child inside of you shifts.

“Little one is awake,” you murmur.

“Go back to bed,” he whispers.

You giggle, and then it kicks.

Kyle sits up. “Was that?”

“Yes.”

Kyle’s face gets close to your stomach. “Do that again.”

[stellamarielu]

jack abbot who is unknowingly pouty and stand-offish when he is jealous and is viscerally irritated when he realizes because he believes he’s too old to feel this possessive 🫣

anyone down for a quick possessive jack abbot drabble with a sprinkle of frank langdon bc why the hell not??? frankie mention is harmless but i want them both to want me let’s be honest.

Jack never saw himself as a possessive man. He was extremely secure, and hardly ever jealous.

But that was before he noticed the way Frank Langdon always lingered in your presence.

At first he didn’t pay too much attention to it, he would remind himself that the man had a family at home, and chalked it up to nothing more than an affectionate personality and friendly demeanor.

Until he realized Frank was no where near affectionate nor friendly.

In fact, he was known for his blunt, no bullshit personality, so to see him smiling at you so often and striking up small talk between patients, he began to question his intentions.

Jack’s apprehensive state of mind started with narrow eyed stares while he watched Langdon pick up his stride to catch up with you in the open walkways of the ED. The threatening glares quickly evolved into subconsciously clenched fists when he overheard the way you would cackle at some of his comments.

cackle.

The same outburst of giggles that he usually pulled from you when you laid next to him in bed, only now he had to hear them at the end of another man's jokes.

The worst part was that he was only privy to a handful of interactions between you and Langdon, the ones that took place at the end of his shift and the beginning of yours.

Once Jack left for the day, you were completely at the mercy of the conventionally attractive, blue eyed doctor for the remainder of your work day.

And the real kicker, was that even if he was on the day shift with you and Langdon… even if he was around to witness the extra attention you were getting from another male coworker, he couldn’t do anything about it, because you weren’t even his in the first place.

Or at least he didn't know if you were his.

You certainly had a physical relationship. Having been sleeping together for nearly two months now, there was no question that you were romantically involved.

You stayed over at his place, he stayed over at yours, you talked every day, shared meals, kissed each other goodbye in the morning, and yet he still wasn’t certain of the title of your relationship.

God, he was nearly 50. Formally asking you to be his girlfriend felt so trivial, but the longer he had to walk past Langdon shamelessly flirting with you, he thought he might just get down on one knee in front of the entire hospital just to shut him up.

Langdon was currently leaning unnecessarily far over the triage desk, captivating your attention with whatever stupidity was spewing from his mouth and Jack couldn’t take it anymore.

His face was rigid, and body tense as he pushed toward the back doors of the ED, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He brushed past you on his way out, no good bye, no silent wink hidden from the rest of the staff, not even a subtle smile. Just walked right past you as Frank continued telling you about the new Mediterranean restaurant down the street.

You held up a quick finger, signaling the man across from you to pause his thought, barely acknowledging him as you followed Jack through the sliding doors of the ambulance bay.

"Hey, you okay?"

Your voice stops him in his tracks. The sweet cadence immediately making him feel like the world's biggest asshole.

“You should get back in there before your boyfriend starts to worry about you.” He turns to face you, his words forming through a smile on his lips.

It's clearly a joke, one that immediately makes your brows furrow in confusion.

“Langdon?”

Hearing his name on your lips makes his jaw tick.

You stop for a second, looking back through the glass of the sliding doors. Frank is there, fidgeting with the stethoscope at his neck and talking with Dana, glancing out at you and Jack mid conversation.

“Oh.” Your voice is quiet as you turn back to look at the man in front of you, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder.

Here you were, thinking Jack had a rough night or a challenging case that made him stoic and closed off, when in reality he was just jealous.

“Jack Abbot are you jealous?”

He doesn't respond, just takes a deep breath, chest heaving under his inhale as he keeps his eyes on you.

“It’s Frank.” You say it like you actually can't believe he would imply anything could ever happen between the two of you.

Sure, you and Frank got along well. Of course you were close, you spent nearly 50 hours a week with the guy. But at the end of the day, he was just an annoyingly condescending resident with a good sense of humor. He wasn’t someone you were even remotely interested in exploring a relationship with. He wasn’t Jack.

“you are the only man working at this hospital that I have feelings for.” Stepping forward to close the gap between your bodies, you place your hands on either side of his arms, holding him steady and reiterating that he is your sole focus.

“What about over at St. Johns?”

Classic Jack brushing off the seriousness of his feelings with a joke, bringing up the possibility that you might find another lover at the hospital three blocks away.

“I can’t make any promises there, I hear they have a really hot orthopedic surgeon.”

He shakes his head at your response, a wide smile stretching across his features.

“Seriously. It’s just you for me.”

There it was. A branding of exclusivity.

You seek out his gaze, tilting your head slightly to the side, and a weight leaves his chest at your words of reassurance.

“Dinner tonight? Your place?” You place a quick kiss on his cheek as the questions flood past you lips.

He hums in response, busy looking over your shoulder, “your boyfriend’s staring at us.”

You almost roll your eyes at the smug expression washing over his face as he watches Langdon through the glass.

“My boyfriend, is right here.”

This time your lips find his in a careful, prolonged embrace. A kiss that everyone on the other side of the sliding doors is sure to be gaping at— your relationship laid out in the open air of the ambulance bay in front of anyone who cares to watch.

[spaceyaemonds]

If this fic took place before the show it so would be the interns being like "oh who's she?"

Like she brings the baby for a ear infection or something at the end of abbots shift and the interns are like "aww is that grand baby abbot"

Until the baby goes "dada" at jack and then they all start doing math 😭

hi friend!!!

ahhhhh!!! okay okay a small little drabble under the cut!! also, I gave baby girl a name, but she will mostly be referred to as bug!

Your poor girl is crying her little eyes out as Dr. King and the guy who introduced himself as “just Whitaker” attempt to assess her.

It’s just an ear infection, you know it’s just an ear infection. But your poor baby is screaming her little lungs out and it’s just breaking your heart.

You should have called Jack. You should have called him the second her temp spiked back up even a little.

Honestly, you’re surprised he isn’t in here yet, or that Perlah or Dana haven’t come by to see her.

Dr. King finally takes pity on the four of you and hands her back, “I think you’re right, it does appear to just be an ear infection, but I’d like to have a senior resident or one of our attendings look her over, just to be safe,”

You nod, gently shushing your girl as she clings to your neck, cries finally quieting down.

“Whitaker, I’m going to try to go find Dr. Robby or Collins, can you wait here with them?”

Whitaker knows she isn’t really asking, but glances awkwardly in your direction before nodding, “I’ll make sure that her chart gets updated,”

Dr. King quickly leaves the room, and Whitaker pulls her chart back up on the tablet.

“Why are you not called Dr. Whitaker?”

He glances back up at you, smiling softly, “Well, I’m still just a med student, I haven’t, uh, earned the title yet,”

You nod, not fully understanding but smiling back at him nonetheless as he goes through her chart.

“Layne Abbot? Are you two related to Dr. Abbot?” His eyebrows raise up at you in question, and you bite your lip to hide the smirk creeping up.

“Something like that,”

Whitaker smiles again slightly, “Should I go get him? I’m sure he’ll want to know that his granddaughter is here,”

He says the worst thing at the absolute worst time.

Jack saw Layne’s name on the board while leaving trauma one, and wasted no time getting to the room the two of you were in, ready to question why the fuck you didn’t call him, when instead he hears Whitaker calling his daughter his granddaughter.

Bug must sense him, or hears the scoff he lets out when he hears the garbage that leave Whitaker’s mouth, because her eyes instantly find his.

And because as much as she loves her mommy, nothing compares to her daddy, those pretty eyes that mirror yours have tears welling right back up in them, and a small whimper of “daddy,” quickly leaves her mouth.

Whitaker thinks he wants to die as he watches the attending that typically works night shifts quickly but gently take the baby from you.

He looks between the two of you, face flushing as he tries to stammer something, anything out.

“Whitaker.”

“Yes, Dr. Abbot?” He winces at the way his voice sounds.

“Go find Robby and tell him my kid has an ear infection,” Jack doesn’t leave room for argument, not that Whitaker would in the current moment.

Whitaker quickly takes his leave, and Jack turns to you instantly, “Honey, why didn’t you call?”

You frown, brave face finally leaving you as tears well up in your own eyes, “She wouldn’t stop crying, and I got really scared when her fever came up again. I didn’t want to waste time calling and rushed here. I didn’t think it would take that long for you to realize we were here and then she wouldn’t stop crying in here,”

Jack takes his free hand and runs it through your hair, “You’re okay, honey. It’s okay,”

Looking down at his other girl, he kisses the side of her head, “You’re okay too, baby,”

Dr. King comes back in a minute later with Dr. Robby and Dr. Santos trailing behind her, stopping mid step once she sees you clinging to Jack’s left side and your daughter clinging to his right.

Santos’ own eyes widen slightly, looking to Dr. King for an answer.

“Ma’am, I didn’t realize you know Dr. Abbot,”

Robby steps around the two of them, “If the last name of our patient didn’t give it away, the listed father on her medical chart should have, Dr. King,”

[deansbeer]

you get insecure looking at your belly bump in mirror.

warnings 𓏵 tooth-rotting fluff | pregnancy | body image insecurities | slight alcohol mention | soft!simon.

sticky notes 𓏵 me and vee @amordixon are whores for soft simon. so thank her for this little drabble i wrote just now <3

you’ree standing in front of the bedroom mirror in just your underwear and one of simon’s old worn out shirts, hands gently cradling the small bump that’s started to show. fifteen weeks. fifteen weeks of growing this little life inside you, and while part of you is over the moon, another part can’t help but frown at your own reflection.

everything feels different. your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore — you’re bloated all the time, your jeans don’t fit right, and you swear your face looks puffy. you turn to the side, smoothing the shirt down over your belly, trying to see yourself the way simon does. he’s been nothing but excited, telling anyone who’ll listen that he’s going to be a dad, but you just feel... bleh.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear the front door open, don’t hear his boots on the stairs. it’s only when strong arms wrap around you from behind that you realize he’s home, the smell of beer and cold night air clinging to him.

“what’s wrong, love?” his voice is soft against your ear, concern immediate. even slightly tipsy from his night out, he can read you like a book. his large hands come to rest over yours on your belly. “why’re you frowning at my girls?”

“how do you know it’s a girl?” you deflect, but he’s not having it.

“answer the question,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “what’s got you looking so sad? thought you’d be asleep by now.”

you lean back into his warmth with a sigh. “i just... i feel so bloated and weird. nothing fits right anymore and i look...” you gesture vaguely at your reflection.

“…beautiful,” he finishes firmly. “you look beautiful.” his hands slide under your shirt to touch your belly directly, and you can feel him smile against your neck. “fuckin’ gorgeous, carryin’ my baby.”

“si...”

“no, listen,” he turns you gently to face him, cupping your face in his hands. his eyes are intense but soft, that look he only gives you. “you have no idea what it does to me, seeing you like this. knowing there’s a little one growing in there. our baby.” his voice drops, thick with emotion and accent. “my baby. your baby. ours.”

he drops to his knees suddenly, pushing your shirt up to expose your bump. “still can’t believe it sometimes,”he murmurs, pressing kisses all over your belly. “that you’re giving me this. a family. never thought i’d ...” he trails off, resting his forehead against your skin.

“baby,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair.

“you’re perfect,” he says against your belly, then looks up at you. “every change, every curve, every bloody thing. means our little one is growing strong. means you’re doing the most amazing thing.” he presses another kiss just above your navel. “my brave girl. my beautiful, perfect girl.”

“you’re drunk,” you laugh wetly, tears pricking your eyes.

“m’not,” he protests, standing back up to pull you close. “just happy. lads kept buying rounds, celebrating.” his hands frame your bump between you. “gonna be a dad. still doesn’t feel real.”

“very real,” you assure him, covering his hands with yours. “especially when i’m throwing up every morning.”

“and you’re still the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen," he says simply, like it’s just fact. “even when you’re green and cursing my name.” he grins when you smack his chest lightly. “what? s’true. loved you before, but this? seeing you grow our baby? fuck, love, i didn’t know i could feel like this.”

“you’re going to make me cry,” you warn, but youmre smiling now.

“happy tears?” he checks, thumbing at your cheek. when you nod, he kisses you softly. “good. only want happy tears from my girls.”

“we still don’t know if it’s a girl,” you remind him, but you’re melting into his embrace.

“know you’re my girl," he says simply. “thas’ enough for now.” he yawns suddenly, the night catching up. “c’mon now, let’s get to bed. want to hold you both.”

as he leads you to bed, hand protective over your bump, you catch sight of your reflection again. somehow, wrapped in simon’s arms, you don’t feel so bleh anymore. you just feel loved. completely, overwhelmingly loved.

“simon?” you whisper once you’re settled against his chest.

“yeah, love?“

“i’m really happy about the baby too.”

his arms tighten around you, one hand splayed possessively over your bump. “good,” he murmurs into your hair. “gonna be the best mum. already are.”

and wrapped in his warmth, feeling your baby safe between you, you actually believe him.

[enjakey]

Physics and Arts

Jake x you | fluff, opposites attract, some smut, students au | smart kink, whimper kink | Jake is a science geek, reader is an academia geek | small drabble

Jake didn’t know how he ended up with someone like you.

For the longest time, he thought he’d end up with someone similar to him. Someone who liked math and physics, could solve numerical problems within seconds- just hand him a pen and paper and he’d prove it to you- and liked music the way he did. He was in a band with his college friends, he played the second guitar and was the lead rapper (whenever it was needed)

But you? You were nothing like him.

But it wasn’t to say you weren’t smart- no, you were so learned, so knowledgeable. Just not in the way Jake was. Because Jake was all about numbers, all about the way he could perceive the world through physics and mathematical theories. He could go on and on about Oppenheimer (he even read his book) and Schrödinger’s cat and about Murphy’s law and about how he wanted to become and space engineer one day. He could ramble about the physics of stars and galaxies and how our universe was infinitely stretching.

You, on the other hand, looked at the world through culture, social institutions and contemporary issues of race, class, gender and religion. You looked at the world through philosophies of Socrates and Nietzsche and whenever you talked about the theory of multiple universes, you looked at like a philosophical question rather than a scientific one.

It was an argument, a debate, you and Jake had been tangled in during many occasions- during breakfast coffees or nights where neither of you could fall asleep.

You liked to write essays, read knowledge heavy books and nitpick at research papers like it was your hobby. Jake hated reading research papers, hated reading books with too many words and hated doing his citations for his essays (and out of frustration, you started doing it for him, afraid he’d get called out for plagiarism).

While you liked to study in silence, Jake loved to listen to r&b music while doing assignments- cracking numbers in his brain like a calculator.

Your mind didn’t work like his, that much was certain. You disagreed on so many topics, looked at life and the world through complete different lenses and saw the future as two different destinations- one as death and the other as success.

Jake really didn’t know how he ended up here with you.

When he was set up with a blind date by a mutual friend- Heeseung, his senior, who thought the pair of you would be a great couple- Jake didn’t know how he came to that conclusion. Because during that date, where you sat across from him in a yellow-lit café surrounded by potted plants and flowers, he could only ever see you as a friend.

And for the longest time, the pair of you did agree to be friends. And that friendship consisted of early morning coffee runs at that very cafe, standing in line together to guess the special of the menu for that morning, talking about your classes from the day prior.

Your conversations consisted of you quoting various theorists across academia and philosophy- because that was pretty much your whole personality- while Jake hid most of himself away and only showed the fun parts, the goofy parts you seemed to enjoy being around so much.

But then, one day, you fixed his grammar while he was speaking and Jake was taken aback. Jake might have been a science geek but the knowing the English language was important to him. You knew that, and corrected his grammar- something about using the past participle in the wrong context. He didn’t know what else he was expecting- you, who spent most of your time writing essays and buried in academic literature, obviously knew the rules and regulations of English better than he did.

But it was finally when Jake actually started to let his interest show- his spanning knowledge on physics theory- did he realise how smart you actually were. Because when he talked about the string theory, you finished a lot of his sentences. And he was stunned that you’d known about it, that you’d once spent a phase in university studying about the physics of the universe, to see if the world could be explained and understood by scientific theory rather than sociological critique.

And you understood both worlds, unlike Jake. You understood the science of living as well as the art of living. And Jake almost envied that about you, that your brain had somehow unlocked crevices that could comprehend things Jake couldn’t fathom.

Because to him, the contemporary world belonged to all the social media scandals and TikTok videos explaining comedic politics and a dying economy.

But to you, it was more than that. It would always mean more than that.

It wasn’t until a night you found yourself laying on his bed that Jake started seeing you differently. Like, physically, actually differently after spending days coming to terms with the fact that he didn’t just find your mind sexy, but you as a whole person too. How did you end up on his bed? You were simply too lazy to leave in the first place, after having stuffed your face with too many bowls of Jake’s perfectly cooked ramen and after arguing over something about the science of manifestations.

Your brain was throbbing from all the times you’d raised your voice to prove a point and he raised his voice to do the same- not that any of it was out of malice. Such conversations were common to you, by that point. It was integral to your friendship with Jake.

Somehow, Jake found himself scooting closer to you, wrinkling the navy blue duvet under him. He hovered over you for only a moment, eyes locking, breath ragged as if he were afraid to you a question- a question of which you knew he’d ask you.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered under his breath and the words hit your cheek with a warm welcome.

And when you didn’t show any signs of discomfort, when you moved your face closer to his and fluttered your eyes closed, Jake kissed you. It was a kiss long over due and if Heeseung found out, he would brag about introducing you to each other- because, perhaps, he was right. He was right about you being a good couple and he was right about you getting along.

And, fuck, did kissing you feel right, too.

Jake didn’t know how to pull away from you. He just let his hands wander, holding and clutching anything he could get get a grip on- your jaw, your neck, your hair, your waist and finally, your hips.

He was heaving for air- but he kissed you like you were the oxygen he didn’t know was missing. He felt so euphoric, he was sure he’d wake up the next morning more blind than he already was.

In between all your pants, all the moments you refused to part your lips from his, your clothes had somehow (somehow? You knew where this was going) ended up in the floor. And as you ran your hands down his chest, his taut muscles under the tips of your fingers, writhing and desperate, you looked at him through your lashes.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Jake let out a loud whine as he held your hips harder, feeling his cock twitch at your voice- usually so loud and confident, now teasing and sultry. He loved this change in you, this version of you that only he got to experience.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned as he let the tip of his cock slide through your wet folds, hips bucking in desperation. “Fuck.”

That night, he didn’t exactly rail you. He made love to you (the railing would happen later and a lot more throughout your relationship). He whispered all the sweet things that went through his head when you talked about your favourite things, kissed down your neck and chest, sucking on your nipples and the tip of his cock touched your cervix.

As his cock slid in and out of you, careful and calculated in motion to make sure you felt every inch of him, you moaned for him. Well, Jake wasn’t even sure if he could call it a moan- it was high pitched, perhaps a whine, that came in short intervals and sharp breaths.

A whimper, perhaps?

He didn’t know what it was but he loved it- and he planned on hearing it more. It took everything in him to not go feral at the sight of you, at the sounds you made- you looked so breakable under him, so responsive, so weak as you clawed at him, searching for your own high.

As Jake spent more time with you, he realised that those high pitched whines you made didn’t just come from sex. No, you made them in your sleep, when you were tired, when you were yawing or when you were tutting at something you were annoyed at.

There were times when you’d simply collapse on his bed, hugging his pillow and saying something about being too tired to sleep- and you’d let out that sound again, that whine that made his brain snap into two and his body beg for you.

It was hard to keep his hands off you.

Your relationship, now, consisted of a lot of nights just… doing things together. The pair of you liked to solve puzzles- puzzles of all kind, the kind that had Jake scratching his head over numerical patterns and the kind that made you have a hard time visualise a painting. You liked playing games together- like one of those name all fifty states type of games. They were fun and they made you laugh and by the end of it, if Jake couldn’t resist the allure of your mind, he’d rail you against his bed, into his navy blue sheets.

And he introduced you to a lot of music, not the type you heard in mainstream media, the ones that blew up on TikTok. No, the songs he listened to were personal, old and carried history. Your music taste was… really terrible compared to his.

And while he shared music, you shared your love for film. And not the movies type of film, you loved watching film that was critiqued, that transcended generations, the type that one wouldn’t have heart about if they weren’t keeping up with film history like you were. And though, at first, Jake resisted- absolutely hated the idea of spending three hours watching films he’d potentially hate- he succumbed to you. Because even though he hated the films you made him watch, he loved the wonder your expression held while characters unravelled their stories.

Study sessions meant that Jake would be sitting on his bed with a pen and notebook finishing questions from his textbook with earphones feeding soothing music into his ears while you would sit on his bed, laptop perched on your legs, typing away on essays.

The pair of you could have easily just studied in your respective spaces- you back at your own apartment. But you simply didn’t want to- it was more comforting to be right there, a few steps away from each other so you could reach out whenever work became overwhelming.

There were numerous occasions where Jake would simply give up on his work and would slide onto the bed. He’d close your laptop and slot himself between your legs, head buried in your chest while you killed him to sleep, hands buried in his hair. And there were numerous occasions where you would sigh over an essay and pad over to Jake, pulling his chair just enough to give yourself room to straddle him, to wrap your arms around his neck and cling onto him like a koala.

“What would I do without you?” You’d ask sometimes, accepting the fact that Jake was your anchor now- that there was no escaping it, no denying it. He was your rock, your pull and escape from reality.

“Don’t think about it,” Jake would say. “You never have to know,” because he didn’t plan on letting you go- not anytime soon, not ever.

Because he loves your mind too much- he loves you too much. And you were his counterpart, just as he was yours.

Time and time, again and again, the pair of you would prove that physics and arts went hand in hand, just as you and Jake went hand in hand.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — sae itoshi: scene stealer !

synopsis: in which you called itoshi sae overrated in an interview, and he responded in the language he knew best.

sae itoshi x reader ⭑ drabble + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

wc: 502

“so, y/n,” the interviewer leaned forward, voice slick like the studio lights overhead. “we have to ask. you’ve done period dramas, blockbusters, indie films- critics are calling you the actress of our generation.”

you smiled politely, legs crossed, fingers light against the armrest. you knew how this worked. press tours were just acting with more glitter.

“but let’s pivot for a second,” she continued, eyes gleaming. “if we look at the football world critics say that sae itoshi is the footballer of our generation. how would you call him?”

you blinked. the question wasn't on the pre-approved list. the name hung in the air between you. sharp, clean, handsome.

“what about him?” you asked, voice even.

she smiled like a shark. “what do you think of him?”

your team was probably watching this from a monitor backstage, already regretting not cutting this question during prep. your PR manager was going to have a migraine. your fans would call it iconic. his fans… probably not.

you could laugh it off. you probably should. but instead, you relaxed your legs, eyes fixed on the interviewer.

“honestly?” you said.

she nodded, breath held.

you looked into the camera.

“overrated.”

there was a pause. a small one.

“i mean, he’s obviously good,” you added. “i’m not blind. but the hype about him? like he’s untouchable? it’s… excessive.”

you didn’t blink. didn’t smile. you weren’t trying to be cute about it. you just told the truth.

the segment moved on. the rest of the interview went fine. you were charming, articulate, witty. you knew how to give the audience what they wanted.

but none of it mattered. by nightfall, the only clip anyone was posting was the one where you said his name and called him overrated like it was a fact, not a statement.

the backlash was loud.

sports journalists, fanboys, stan accounts, all dissecting your tone, your words, your expression.

some defended you. said you were just being honest. that he was too cold, too mechanical, too arrogant to be idolized.

others tore into you. called you bitter. attention-seeking. said you didn’t have the right to speak on someone like him.

you said nothing. posted nothing. didn’t clarify or apologize. because you meant it.

until the 82nd minute of his next match against bastard münchen.

you weren’t watching the game live. you told yourself you didn’t care. but someone sent you the clip. and then someone else. and then it was trending.

he’d scored.

a brilliant, brutal goal, so fast it barely looked real. two defenders bypassed like training cones, the keeper left guessing. textbook precision and trademark calm.

then he walked straight to the nearest camera.

he didn’t smile. didn’t shout. didn’t do anything flashy.

he just looked into the lens, mouthed the word, slowly, clearly.

“overrated?”

you watched it in silence.

watched it again.

and again.

until your phone buzzed with a message from your best friend:

“he’s coming for your throat"

you exhaled through your nose, tossing your phone aside.

“fine,” you muttered. “let him.”

part 2 here

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[7hursday]

tutor!sukuna, who, against his will, is sitting next to you in the empty library with his tongue poked into his cheek as he feels irritation beginning to bubble up inside of him.

it’s not that you’re stupid — no, not at all — but the way your brain processes information is… starkly different from the way his does. you also had a way of attracting bad grades as if they were moths and you were a flame. it was basically inevitable that the teachers had forced him to tutor you.

a heavy sigh leaves his lips as he points at the textbook. “solve this again and tell me exactly what you don’t get.”

you look at him sheepishly, before letting out a nervous laugh. “uhh… I don’t get the entire thing. can we take a break?”

he, of course, rolls his eyes for the nth time that hour. that was until an idea popped into his head, his eyebrows raising slightly in amusement before leaning in to whisper into your ear.

when his hot breath hits your skin, you flinch instinctively, but you can’t help the way your underwear begins to dampen at the way his words come out so roughly and undeniably sexual.

“if you can answer this question correctly, I’ll give you a reward,” his right hand lays flat against your thigh, going up, up, up…

tutor!sukuna who has you sit on his lap, his hard cock pressing against your swollen clit and slick folds as his hand lays flat on your thighs. the library was empty (although, you didn’t seem to mind if it wasn’t), and you were luckily wearing a skirt that was long enough to cover your lewdness.

“mm? you’re doing well. get this right and I’ll put my cock in your wet lil’ pussy.” his dirty words have you rubbing your thighs together, squeezing his already dripping cock in between. this elicits a soft ‘fuck’ from him, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly.

“fuck this. I need to feel you.”

it didn’t take long before he had pushed everything off the table, bending you over and pushing his cock into you in one go. you were internally thankful for how wet both your pussy and his dick was, because the sheer girth of his length was enough to straight up gawk at.

the round, swollen tip of his cock hits that mushy spot that has your toes curling immediately— which doesn’t go unnoticed by sukuna. he leans forward, fingers tangling in your locks as he pulls your head up to look at him.

he pulls out just enough for the tip to barely be inside before slamming back into you, the small tuft of hair on the base just barely tickling your skin as his balls slapped against your already sensitive clit.

his hand reaches forward, placing the textbook in front of you and forcing a pen into your hand. “each question you got wrong is one load of my cum inside you.”

and screw that, because with the way he was driving his cock into your pussy, you were sure you were fucked dumb and completely cockdrunk, the only thing on your mind being him.

tutor!sukuna who can’t help but begin to purposefully teach you a few of the formulas wrong, making sure to fill your cunt up with his cum any chance he gets.

a/n: thinking of making this a full fic. this mere drabble was too long i had to decrease the font size lol. lmk what u think.