#but that's the thing. he doesn't notice. but he does start leaning more and more into every small touch javier dares to give him

[frostyhelltime]

Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You Part 2

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: I'm so happy so many people seem to like this so far! I hope you all enjoy this part 2! Now I'm gonna get back to working on my inbox. I'm loving the requests I'm seeing come in so feel free to keep sending them in! ❤️ And as I said in the preview I tend to write Alastor from more of a demisexual lenses since it's on the ace spectrum and I also largely consider myself demisexual if that helps to know for this.

Link to part 1 is right HERE.

Alastor is a planner. Always has been and likely always will be. He has different plans and scenarios for almost every occasion, and has backup plans for most any issue he could ever encounter. Suffice to say, it made him a terrible person to try and out maneuver. But it was especially difficult when you weren't even aware of the game of chess he was playing.

So he does what he does best, plan. It's easier to focus on the goal of ensnaring you instead of really analyzing his own complicated feelings. He starts small, not wanting to throw you off too harshly. It had to be subtle. He starts doing things that wouldn't…necessarily be odd, considering his personality, but they're still things he hasn't really done before. 

Such as pulling your chair out for you when you go to sit down. It's not too odd. A gentlemanly thing to do. But he can tell from the look on your face that you're struggling to remember if this is a new behavior or if he's always done it and you just never noticed.

He went out of his way to accompany you when possible, more so than usual. Especially if it was into a less desirable part of town. But still, nothing changes. It honestly vexes him because he doesn't even quite know how he fell for you, so he couldn't even attempt to replicate it to make you fall for him in turn. 

Perhaps subtle was the wrong way to go? Perhaps he should be a little more…forward? 

He again starts small, not wanting to startle you, but it seems it does regardless. In hindsight him reaching for you first instead of the other way around was certainly something novel and new, so it made sense it surprised you the first few times he placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked, a gesture of affection, protection, and possession all at once.

He would almost wonder if he was doing something wrong if he hadn't seen that delightful little dusting of pink across your cheeks each time he does it.

It's then he realizes that due to his….general nature and lack of romantic relationships, that you're likely trying to justify all of his actions as extremely friendly rather than the subtle flirtations he meant them to be.

Which annoyed him until a hint of mischief crossed his face with a realization. If you thought he was just being extraordinarily friendly…he could perhaps be even…more bold without fully showing you his hand yet.

Yes, he could certainly have fun with that.

He's thinking later on that day about how he could torment you with his affections when he passes by the library and sees you struggling, quite poorly, to reach a book. 

His grin grows imperceptibly wider as he silently approaches behind you. He weighs his options on how he should go about it and eventually decides to lean over, until his lips are almost flush to your ear.

“Do you need any help mon cœur?” He almost purrs in your ear and he has to admit there is a certain thrill and exhilaration unlike what he's used to feeling, when you jump from how close his voice is. 

“A-Alastor! I…I didn't realize you were there.” You managed to squeak out as you felt his claws rest on the crook of your waist. The proximity, touch, and whispered voice is clearly a lot for you since he can see your blush has even spread to the tips of your ears. 

How cute. He wonders what other parts of you can so plainly show your feelings because of him? Ah but he's losing focus now.

“Oh, my apologies. How rude of me not to greet you! Hello there.” He hasn't moved his mouth an inch, his voice brushing against you like velvet as he speaks. As soon as he does actually greet you, one of his hands captures yours and brings it to his lips, and he's  able to hear the slight hitch in your breath as he does so. It's certainly a sound he's quickly become a fan of, that he wants to hear over and over again. He once again allows his mind to wander for just a moment on other ways he could have you make that sound for him. But then he's focused once more, his hand dropping yours and snatching the book you appeared to be reaching for with ease before leaning back down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what you needed mon cœur?” He continues to drawl sweetly in your ear as he repeats the pet name that still manages to make you flush and fidget nervously despite not knowing what the hell he was even saying. He noticed the pet names seemed to make you feel some type of way when they were French, even though he's called you darling and dear and various other things in English more than a few times. But no matter. He doesn't really care about the reasoning behind it, just excited he has another tool in his arsenal to ensure you turn your gaze to him instead of some pathetic sinner that thought they had a chance with you. He can feel his ears flatten slightly in agitation at the mere thought, but thankfully you're unable to see in your current position so he gives nothing away.

He sees he isn't the only one to get lost in his thoughts, since you haven't responded yet, and he's oh so curious to know what is going on in that head of yours. But another time. For now he was making such progress, he feels.

His chuckle in your ear is dark and low, but warm like honey before his voice rings out again, laced with amused curiosity.

“Mon cœur?”

You snap to attention at that, as if just remembering he was even there.

“Y-Yep! That's the book! Thank you!” 

The little stutter was cute, he admits. Especially when he knows he caused it. But he thinks this is enough for now, to help lead your mind down less…platonic roads. The idea was to have you approach him, to maintain that illusion of control. Like you thought of it, and approached him and he'll pretend to entertain the idea before giving it a shot.

But it's fine you were taking a while to grow the courage. He was a very patient man, and the way he was clearly driving you up the wall with his back and forth actions was certainly entertaining enough in the meantime.

“Glad to be of service!” His normal radio host cadence was back again as he pulled away, his touch leaving you entirely, and he's sure it leaves a cold spot in his absence that he's sure you notice, since he can feel the same sharp contrast of the lack of warmth on him from where you're no longer touching.

He seems so cheerful and carefree that it almost makes you wonder if you had hallucinated this whole interaction. But by the time you spin around to talk to him, he's already gone. But even from the shadows he can see the way your flushed face and wide eyes search the room for him, hand over your heart as if you could will your heartbeat to slow. He's certain you must be feeling a sense of whiplash from the drastic change in demeanor and he watches as you lean back against the shelves, holding the book and shaking your head a moment.

“I feel like I'm going crazy…” He watched you mutter and it only made him smile more. So his actions were effective after all. You were just trying very hard to be respectful and polite to him since you knew his nature so well…an endearing gesture that just made him want to sink his claws even deeper into you. 

Knowing his actions affect you just emboldens him further. When you share coffee the next morning with him and the two of you chat, tucked away in whatever room seemed to strike your fancy that day, he notices you seem to be avoiding his eyes, your head tilted down.

He tuts a moment, putting his coffee down and using one claw to tilt your head upward to face him, using his other hand to brush your hair away from your face to stop obscuring his attempts to look at you.

“There we are. Much better.” He smiles brightly at you, even as he sees the crimson rush to your cheeks. He lets his hands linger a little longer than needed before he releases you and picks his coffee cup back up again, as if what he's done wasn't abnormal in the slightest.

“A-Alastor…?” He hears you ask tentatively, and he thinks his patience is finally going to pay off.

“Yes mon cœur?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in an innocent manner that is a laughable contrast to what you know of the radio demon's legacy and reputation.

“I..” He leans forward slightly, eager for your expected confession, his eyes drifting down to your throat as he watches you swallow thickly from nerves.

“...I…n-nevermind. I…forgot what I was going to say.” You eventually give up and his shoulders slump just the slightest bit in disappointment although his smile doesn't falter, although it is strained.

“...No worries. When it comes back to you, I've always got an open ear available for you.” He assures you, although inside he sighs. How can he make you crack? He wants to make you crack before he does, to maintain that illusion of control and so you don't realize the power you possess of how much he could give you if you only asked. He's thinking again, a peaceful quiet settled over the both of you as you each are lost in thought over your individual predicaments.

Perhaps…he could distract you from your date, maybe even ensure you miss it anyway, and perhaps see him in a less…platonic way at the same time. He could simply…take the place of this undeserving date of yours. 

“...You know…I had heard there was a new jazz club that had opened up recently, and I know no one else here has enough taste to appreciate the music appropriately so I wouldn't want to take any of them.” He uses his free hand to wave off the notion before you can even suggest it. 

“Perhaps I could take you with me? Perhaps I can show you how well I bet we could cut a rug together? It's been quite some time since I've gotten to enjoy a dance with a worthy partner.” He says, putting particular emphasis on the last word, eyes partially closing as he makes sure to look at you with a more seductive gaze to further entice you.

You always respond to his compliments so well, a nervous fidget, perhaps a bite of your lip as you think of how to respond, and of course that cute little blush he was quite fond of by now.

“That…” You swallow again, opening your mouth a moment as if searching for words before you continue speaking.

“That sounds…lovely. Just…let me know when to be ready.”

This time his grin is more reminiscent of a spider watching a fly heading right into its web as he gives you all the details needed of when and where.

When the time officially comes, he's delighted that you show up in the lobby at the appropriate time for a few reasons. It meant you were going to go, was the most obvious reason. But the second reason was that unless this idiot wanted to take you dancing on a Sunday night…you probably broke your date with them to be with him. A fact that certainly makes his ego puff up as he takes your hand and kisses it, a routine that feels almost natural now.

“My…I'll be the envy of everyone there with this beauty on my arm…” He chuckles, smiling wider when he sees that tell tale blush spread down to your neck as you stumble over a ‘thank you’. He offers his arm to you, which you politely take as if he were escorting you anywhere normally. Him initiating contact, even if it was small, was also beginning to feel more natural to you both, even if it was small touches.

He can tell by the way you act that you can sense this is different from other friendly outings you two had been on. Good. He was beginning to doubt his abilities to charm for a little bit there. Perish the thought.

There are also, admittedly, things that he has begun to notice are different as the night goes on as well. Had he always been able to feel how warm your hands were or had he just never noticed? It's easier to notice now as he twirls you around to the lovely jazz band playing up on stage, hand never letting yours go entirely as the two of you dance.

He's also glad to see those pesky nerves of yours finally seemed to be wearing off and you were relaxing with him again, like you had before he began attempting to quietly pursue you. Your smile and laugh were far more carefree and jovial as he dips you, arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you from falling before he tugs you back up to continue.

With you relaxing, he finds himself mirroring that demeanor and he's overall less anxious and tense, and much less focused on ensnaring you. Now he was just…having fun. No planning. No ulterior motives. Just having a good time. It's actually quite nice to enjoy the feeling in the moment.

There are a few brief moments where you tense, for instance when his face comes just a little too close to yours, and he can tell you're clearly wondering if he'll close the gap or if you're just imagining things that aren't there. Or when he gives a particularly sultry gaze and accompanying grin as he pulls his lovely dancing partner closer when the distance between you two becomes greater than he wants.

But overall it's an absolutely lovely night and once you've both had your fill you step off the dance floor, Alastor taking a moment to check the time and grinning deviously to himself. It was far too late to meet with up with whoever your date had been, and his ego is admittedly fluffed knowing he was the one able to distract you so thoroughly, as it should be.

As the two of you sit down at one of the tables in the corner, each grabbing a drink from the bar first, you're still laughing with absolute glee over the wonderful night so far.

He enjoys picking your brain as he sips his rye, head resting gently on his free hand as he nods and agrees and puts in his own two cents on this new jazz club. It feels delightfully normal and cozy. While he does quite enjoy flustering you and watching you flounder…he had missed these easygoing conversations he couldn't really seem to have with others. You had been walking on eggshells around him this week, and he didn't realize how terribly he missed this type of interaction with you until now.

It's only after awhile he pretends to check the clock and feigns shock before turning back to you.

“Oh dear! I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. I hope you didn't have any other plans I might have ruined.” His chuckle is easygoing, thinking he knows the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway. He wants to hear you say you chose him, instead of him just silently knowing.

But you just shake your head, grin still plastered across your face before you take a sip of your cocktail.

“Nope! This was my only plan tonight and I couldn't imagine anything better!” Another delighted laugh from you as confusion crosses his own face immediately.

He cocks his head to the side a little bit, trying to determine if you're lying or not. Although he has never known you to lie to him before…

“Really? It's not nice to lie to me. I thought we were close. No prior commitments to anyone broken to be here with me tonight? No silly little paramour trying to steal away your attention?” He puts emphasis on the word, putting his drink down and using that hand to gently grab your chin and tilt your head up to look him in the eye so he could analyze your expression more acutely. He doesn't mean to say the word ‘paramour’ with such disdain, it simply creeps out into his voice.

But now you just look confused as well as you look up at him.

“No…? I mean. I told Husk about this place and mentioned wanting to go this weekend to check it out. But I didn't say I had anyone in mind to go with me. If anything I was going to ask you, knowing this is your kind of place.” You answer carefully, unsure what the correct answer is supposed to be, and he freezes, hand on your chin tightening almost imperceptibly as the gears begin to turn in his mind.

There's a soft flare of radio static interference that sounds from him that makes others nearby give him more room than they had previously.

You, however, are unafraid. You've become too close to him to really fear he would do anything bad to you. Right now you're mostly just concerned for him and this odd behavior.

His hand drops away from your face, as he takes another sip of his rye, taking that time to collect himself and think of his next course of action.

He should have known better than to trust one singular source of information without double checking…damnit. He had been so wrapped up in his stupid newfound jealousy that he hadn't even stopped to ask Husk if he was absolutely positive that's what you said. He thinks the idiot must have misheard you, and he foolishly accepted it at face value.

But the wheels are turning in your head now too, mouth falling slightly agape as your eyes widen, an outlandish possibility entering your mind that claws at your curiosity so desperately you can't stop yourself from blurting it out.

“...Alastor…Were you trying to stop me from going on what you thought was a date?” You ask, and the excited anticipation in your voice could not be mistaken even though you did try to hide it.

“Of course not.” Is what comes out of his mouth immediately as he pulls away defensively, his ears flattening slightly, two things you pick up on. He's unaware how hard your heart is beating right now as you try to summon the courage to speak your next thought, part of you still thinking it so impossible you shouldn't even bother asking.

“...Are you…jealous over the idea of someone dating me?” You inquire curiously, quirking your head to the side and snaking one hand across the table and taking his hesitantly, unsure if you're crossing some invisible line. You're unsure if you're just firing a shot in the dark and he'll laugh at the notion. But somehow the atmosphere feels far too heavy for him to joke about something like this. It's felt heavy like this all week and you wanted to know why.

But the question just has him put his drink down a little more harshly than he meant to. But he doesn't pull his other hand from yours, the touch a little soothing to him as he deals with his scattered thoughts.

“No.” He says concretely while looking you in the eye, as if daring you to suggest otherwise.

But you still aren't convinced…not with how he had been acting this past week, and this new knowledge. Perhaps…you could try and be a little bold? Perhaps test the waters yourself?

“...That's a shame. I wouldn't have minded if you were.” You state quietly, his ears almost straining to pick up the sound of your voice over the music. Your gaze is pointedly looking away,  unsure you would have had the courage to say the words if you had been looking directly at him.

You startle and look back at him, specifically at his hand holding yours because his grip has become noticeably tighter. He's moving closer again, to the shorter distance he had been before he pulled away and you swallow thickly, wondering if you had made a mistake.

His voice is low, and you can oddly see conflict present in his eyes, as if he was warring over what decision to make.

“...and if I say I am?” His voice is heated and almost husky as he speaks, looking you directly in the eye again as he leans even closer now, his face mere inches from yours now.

You're struck speechless by this admission, not even dreaming of that response actually being a reality, and your voice is stuck in your throat as you scramble for a response. Your breath hitches slightly as all you can do is stare at him a moment trying to process this as he waits for your answer, unreadable in this moment.

Your other hand is shaking as you bring it up to rest on his cheek, watching him close his eyes a moment before opening them again as he leans into the touch. It gives you the courage to speak that thought that feels almost too silly to put out into the world.

“...I…I would say you have no reason to be.” You're leaning just the smallest bit forward, as if to silently give permission but not wanting to take that first step yourself and cross his boundaries without permission. 

It just made him adore you more.

He bridges the distance, eyes closing as the hand not holding yours is placed on the back of your neck to push you closer, to silently assure you this was no accident.

He can feel your hand gripping his tightly now in response and he can't help but grin into the kiss as you begin to reciprocate once the shock has worn off, lips moving against his with an eager hunger before eventually parting. There's something almost tender in the way he grips your neck, that makes you melt into the kiss with him with ease.

He has to admit he's definitely a fan of this look of yours. Wide eyed, breathing a bit hard with a flushed face and slightly parted mouth as you gazed at him. He wants to see it again.

“...Good. I'm not the type of person who does well with jealousy I've discovered.” His voice is chipper and normal, as if he hadn't just taken your breath away for a moment. Just the whiplash of going from one side of him to the other has you laughing as you lean back, the hand that was once on his face now covering your own.

“...I'll keep that in mind.” You grin, spreading your fingers just enough to peek out at him. 

Further discussions could wait until tomorrow of course, of boundaries and labels and everything that comes with it. But for now this is enough. His cards are on the table yes, but yours are laid bare for him to see as well. So he relaxes again into his seat, leaning back but not taking his hand back from yours before looking at the dance floor again.

“...Do you feel like dancing again mon cœur?” He asks, already tugging your hand up to bring you with him. He's eager to dance with you again without having to pretend his intimate and more romantic touches were accidental this time. He hears you giggle before taking another sip of your cocktail and then you're tugging him down to be eye level with you. 

“I'd love that, mon amour.” You teasingly breathe into his ear, and you're rewarded by this time getting to see his breath hitch instead of it always being you. You may still not know what he's been calling you, but everyone knows that term of endearment, and there's an almost sinful sense of pride that you were able to pull that type of reaction from him, and now you're even more eager to dance with him again, to find out what else you can see that no one else has before.

You think you understand all the teasing touches he gave you that left you wanting all this week, probably trying to test the waters and bait you into confessing yourself, you can likely guess now. If this is how he felt seeing you react all those times you couldn't blame him.

Perhaps it's only fair to begin to repay him for those tormenting whispers and touches, you think as you two step onto the dance floor, your hand placing itself on his chest before slowly gliding up further and then over his collarbone to rest gingerly on his shoulder for support, your fingers digging in slightly to the flesh of his back. It's hard to tell in this dimly lit lounge but you swear there's a tinge of red to his face, and it just further strengthens the hunger you feel when he growls softly and leans over to whisper to you.

“Tread carefully my dear. I have every intention of approaching this courtship as a gentleman. Do not make that impossible for me to remember…”

Taglist: @zzzykiek @alastorthirsty @sirens-and-moonflowers

[back2bluesidex]

A Dream That You Didn't Dream - JJK

Pairing: Widowed!Jungkook X Fem!Reader

An excerpt from Patreon Membership Exclusive Drabble Series From Within.

Theme: Angst, pining, arranged marriage, best friends to strangers to lovers au, chaebol au.

Series Summary: When you fell in love with Jungkook, you wished for your life to turn out as one of those clichéd fairytales, where two best friends fall for each other and live happily ever after. But were you lucky enough? Probably not because you had to watch the man taking vows, kissing the love of his life and promising forever right before your eyes. Unfortunately enough, now you are having to witness him breaking down bit by bit standing at his wife's funeral.

Chapter Summery: Getting married to Jungkook was your widest dream but replacing his dead wife wasn't.

Warnings: angst, minor character death, pining, angst, unrequited love.

Series Masterlist

Dream. 

A factor that sometimes comes true and most of the time doesn't. 

But there are other times when dreams come true in the most distorted ways. 

Like yours. 

You had this dream of wearing an immaculate white gown, doing your hair with pearls in your bun, and walking down the aisle with your father as Jungkook regards you with his big doe eyes and his beautiful smile.

The dream broke when Jungkook proposed to Mido and you never once dared to dream that dream ever again.

Today, your dream is taking the shape of reality right in front of your eyes.

You are wearing a beautiful mermaid cut white gown with pearls in your bun and within a few more minutes you are going to walk down the aisle with your father.  

Jungkook will be waiting for you at the pavilion. 

But he probably won’t look at you, won’t smile at you. Because this is not the marriage of your dreams. You two are being forced towards each other, which you hate but Jungkook hates even more. 

After that day, he didn’t contact you. Neither did you take the initiative to talk things through. Because no matter what you say both of you know you will have to agree to your parents’ terms. 

And now you are even scared to stand in front of him, ready to replace Mido.

Jungkook hates you already, doesn’t he? 

The ceremony is nothing like Jungkook and Mido’s marriage. That was closed off, protected from the media and this one is grandiose, just the opposite. As you walk down the aisle with a practiced fake smile, all you notice are the camera lenses of reporters and invitees you don’t even know. 

Jungkook is standing with his eyes projected towards the ground, he looks up when the music slows down a bit.

His eyes lock into yours. 

Your heart starts beating at an erratic pace. 

He looks devastatingly handsome. 

The suit hugs his perfect body, hair neatly swept off of his face, shiny chelsea boots with his silver hoops glinting under the bright light of the wedding hall. 

You stand before him, breathe stuck in your throat. 

You try to avoid his intimidating stare but fail to do so. 

One by one you take the vows. And one by one several fears fill your heart - mind. 

“I do.” you say as you wait for the man to say the same. 

He hesitates for a while but finally utters, “I do.” 

When the priest asks him to kiss you. 

He takes your hands on his, pulls you a little close. The smell of his cologne fills your nostrils and then he leans down to reach your lips. 

Will he really kiss you? 

The question fills your mind. 

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss you, not even a peck.

He places his pursed lips flatly on yours as if those are made of metal and can’t move any further. 

But you don’t blame him. 

Not when you chose to lead a life with this man who can hardly ever be yours.

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER ONE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: this is my first story ive ever published here. please be kind! i am fragile lol. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it. I've proofread but, like, nobody's perfect. if people like this and want it as a series, ill make a more personalized playlist for it.

Music To My Ears: Chapter 1

Abby is in your dorm room stretched out in bed with a book in her hands when she hears voices coming from outside. She watches the shadows dance in the light that extends under the door and into the room. It’s late. Abby hasn’t seen you all day. 

She tries to go back to reading, but her eyes glaze over the words almost immediately. Someone is leaning on the door, off and on making the hinge jingle in a way that is most times ignorable. Drunk students came through all the time, lingering in the hallways and leaning on the doors. But it isn’t ignorable now, not for Abby. 

The voices are muffled. They sound like they’re… giggling. One giggle is definitely yours. Abby could spot it from a mile away. The other’s is unfamiliar. Abby’s been reading the same passage over and over again and doesn’t even realize it.

It goes quiet outside and this time Abby closes the book, suddenly over-aware of her surroundings. She looks up at the reading light hanging from the headboard and instinctively switches it off. But she doesn’t want it to look like she turned it off because of them? She turns it on again without thinking and turns it off again, quickly entertaining the idea of faking sleep and listening in. With her hand on the switch Abby stops, realizing that they might start noticing the light going on and off and think she’s trying to signal something. She shakes her head at herself with embarrassment. She covers her face with both her hands. So stupid… she says under her breath. 

It’s been quiet for so long out there. But the shadows are still there. Abby lays down in bed and forfeits to her desire to eavesdrop. As icky as it makes her feel.

Your voice comes through finally. 

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It’s a woman’s voice. Abby couldn’t tell if she was feigning some sort of annoyance with you or if it was genuine.

“Like what?” 

A silence passes.

You sigh loudly. “Well, what’d you think of what I sent you? That wasn’t a cheap effort, you know. Full body mirror in the ladies’ locker room. Not too shabby.”

“You have to stop…” The other voice says, with a playful twinge that makes Abby’s curiosity perk up like dog ears. 

“Stop what? I can’t send you photos?” Your voice tells Abby you were in some daze, in the same way she could sometimes hear singers smile through their lyrics. Just thinking about you out there in the hall hanging onto the door and onto each of her words, shining your big green eyes at her. It sends a shiver down Abby’s spine.

“Not anymore,” the stranger says casually. “It was really good seeing you tonight but I have a boyfriend, remember? And I’ve told him about…us. High school. He knows… is the thing. He thinks I’m studying for midterms right now.” 

You laugh at that. In a sweet way, though. “Right,” you say and you sigh, seemingly unaffected by the reminder. “Jeremy?”

“Jeremiah,” the woman corrects.

“God, that’s even worse.” 

Abby snorts, basically smashing her lips shut with her hand, and then rages at herself silently in the dark for fear they may have heard her.

 “Did you… even look at them?” you ask. God, are you drunk? Abby has now given up on the book entirely, laying up on one elbow to stare at the door, imagining the conversation visually. 

A laugh from the woman. Mumbling now, feigning sheepishness, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And…I think…about them, about you. Of course.” Abby’s hands are clasped together, tightening around one another at this.

“Yeah…?” you draw out the stranger’s words seductively with your own. Abby imagines you in the long, maroon dress you typically wear for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She nearly has the impulse to check your closet just to be sure, but that’s crazy and much more invasive that what she was already doing. Her knuckles are turning white.

“And I think in another universe, maybe. Not this one. I can’t. You know why,” the stranger says sheepishly. “You’re so sweet.” And, in Abby’s imagination, there’s a dainty, gloved hand reaching out to caress your face condescendingly. The illusion entrances her to near paralysis.

A long pause from you. Abby listens hard, completely unable to stop herself from paying close attention now. In the near silence, Abby could sense your breath faltering through the door. Despite how the two of you left things, she didn’t want to see you hurting like that. Say something… Abby thinks.

When Abby hears you speak again, the sweetness in your voice has vanished. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound. 

“Fuck…” There’s a lump in your throat, Abby could tell just from your voice when you were smiling and, just as easily, she could hear when you were about to burst into tears. “Why… why did you invite me out tonight then?” 

No answer.

“You have a boyfriend…” you continue in a matter-of-factly tone, raising your voice a bit, to Abby’s surprise. “Jeremy…yeah, so you’ve explained. Great guy, great future. So, you have the boyfriend, the good job lined up, you’re almost done with college. Man, you’re doing fucking great.” Abby’s mouth was left agape, her heart cheering with unwarranted pride for you, urging you on to read this stranger to filth. “Why start texting me again?” You ask.

“You’re here,” the woman clarifies indignantly, like it should be obvious. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you transf-”

 “That’s not what I’m ask- why’d you ask me out tonight?” You cut her off. “Purely to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“No, what? I’m just- I’ve always just been here at your disposal. Ever since we were teens. Chasing my tail around like a dumb dog, waiting for her master to one day be unashamed to be seen with me.” Abby’s hand travels to her mouth now in delight. She’s smirking like a clown, fully impressed with you. But, you were in tears at this point. Abby knew by now that, only drunk, would you show your tears like that. “Abby was right,” you mutter. Abby almost didn’t hear you.

“I’m gonna go,” the woman said. “It was good seeing you tonight.” It sounded like more of a question than a genuine statement. And then the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving away and then out of sight.

“Yeah. Go, for fuck’s…” You say messily. You were definitely not sober. And then Abby hears your body thud against the door one last time and senses you sliding down to the floor. She hears the tears. Abby instinctively began to get up, feeling the need to see you, talk to you, hold you. 

But she stopped herself. You wouldn’t even talk to her a few hours ago, why would you want her comfort now?

***

At that point in time, you and Abby were seasoned roommates. Well, not seasoned. You guys were in that awkward in-between stage of knowing each other where you’d half-memorized each other's schedules but there wasn’t any synchronicity to your dynamic yet. Changing clothes in the same room was still very touch-and-go.

However, when you first met there was immediate tension. It was winter then, and transferring colleges midway through sophomore year meant knowing absolutely no one. At least, you thought, you would have a roommate. But, when you first met, Abby was so much… harder. And, she was stoic and casual in a way that threw you off entirely.

“Are you looking through my shit?”

“No!” You said stiffly, whipping your head around to catch sight of the figure in the door. But, there you were. You stood fixed on her side of the room, where you just had your eyes deeply focused on the engraved rugby medals hanging on the shelf, her shelf. You were caught red handed and the lie came out of your mouth readily and in a panic. Abby was already smirking. 

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I lied. But I’m just looking. I’m not going through it, per say, I promise.” 

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

You smile and take five awkward steps over to your side where your bed was just a bare, blue mattress and your luggage rested waiting to be unpacked. It was a stark comparison between our sides of the room even still. Her bed was military neat, with perfectly tucked in covers and a single pillow centered at the head. The medals were all lined up but in a way that didn’t look too showy. Some polaroids were tucked into the creases between her window and the sill. Your suitcases were patterned and scuffed badly on the corners. Littered across them all were stickers you had found from anywhere you could find them. Your clothes made you look avant garde compared to Abby and you had a sudden knot in your stomach that told you to feel self-conscious. 

“They didn’t tell you who was moving in here, did they?” you asked.

“Ah. Typical administration shit. I didn’t even know someone was moving in today,” she explained, throwing her gym bag down onto her bed and then turning to you with an open hand to shake. “Abby.”

You shook her hand, returning her name with yours. You noticed the way Abby looked deeply into your eyes for a long second, too long for a first introduction. And the way she smirked at you while she did it confounded you; it was the same way someone held out their hand to a stray cat. To be fair, that was an accurate analogy. You were clad in winter jackets with a flushed face whereas she was radiating heat, skin almost steaming under her gym clothes. Her hands were rugged, you noticed.

“Well,” Abby said, turning to her bed and unzipping her gym bag. “I’ve been told I’m a good roommate. By no one actually. You’re the first roommate I’ve had since the first half of my freshman year. Uh…I keep to myself. I need quiet most nights because I get up early, so no boyfriends over on weekdays.”

You nodded along when she turned to you and sat on the edge of her bed wearing a slight grimace at that last idea. “But if you do, do me a favor and just text me beforehand. Don’t want to be walking in on any man butt.” You laughed a bit loudly at that. You just shook your head.

“No. That won’t be a problem,” you said. Abby caught your eye suspiciously and cracked a small and crooked smile.

“Okay,” Abby said. She turned back around, grabbed a towel from her drawers, and threw it on the bed. Then, she casually lifted her sweaty wife beater up over her head and it’s only then that you look at Abby long enough to notice her size and shape. She was severe, and you’d been so caught up in meeting her, you didn’t necessarily take in her physical appearance. But now that she faced away you could see the sheer definition of her body, starting at the dimples on her lower back trailing up to her massive shoulders. All of it glistening with a polished coat of sweat.  And the rest… it would take a few more interactions to even comprehend all of her.

She must have sensed the eyes on her back because she turned around. You looked away quickly, trying busy yourself with the things around you, but there was nothing. 

“Sorry,” your cheeks flushed red. But Abby was full frontal, positioned now with her messy hair unbraided, sprawled around her shoulders, grinning at you. She paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact, with only a towel around her waist.

But then she just shrugged, grabbed her toiletries, and said, “Later.”

You watched her leave. Watched her with wide eyes as she opened the door with one hand and used the other one to lazily cover her chest as she headed towards the showers. You even heard her say “sup” to someone on her way.

Alone, you felt the rush of the moment channel directly to your stomach and burst like flames across your face. 

***

That was just the beginning. Abby thinks of it now.

Now, face up on her bed, contemplating her next move, Abby recalls you as you were. She was immediately taken with you, that first day. Your wide eyes and timidity around her. Abby's own stupid, casual arrogance. Obviously, as Abby quickly learned later, that first impression of you was not at all fully representative of the truth. 

Maybe if she had stopped then, stopped the teasing, stopped what she intended to be light, meaningless flirting, Abby wouldn’t be hesitating to open the door. Perhaps she would be opening the door to find you in tears, take your face in her hands and tell you everything she’d been aching to say for three months now.

Abby gets up off her bed and walks to the door. She squeezes the handle, takes a breath, and then turns it slowly.

[ken-dom]

Currently thinking about Jacob Palmer x fem reader going through a dry spell becoming more and more desperate for anything that he is willing to do anything to go home with you he’d get down on his knees and beg if you asked

Sorry for taking a billion years anon! Hope you’re still thinking about it 😩 personally, I can’t resist this. This lends itself so perfectly to pathetic Jacob, and I’m a sucker for making them pathetic 😈

What Jacob considers a dry spell wouldn’t be a very long period of time at all. Imagine him going home alone a few nights in a row, having failed at picking someone up. Then it turns into a couple of weeks and he's sad and horny...

NSFW, gn!reader

It’s happened before, it does from time to time, especially at the quieter times of year when the bars aren’t filled with potential matches for him.

But it’s not quiet right now. The bars are bustling, and he’s had plenty of chances. He just hasn’t actually managed to impress a single person he’s tried to chat up for almost a week.

And when going home alone bleeds into the second week, he wonders if he’s lost his charm, or his skill or — whatever that perfect combination of elements is that he’s spent years perfecting and has down to a fine art. Or, he thought he did.

He gives the bars a miss for a couple of nights. Maybe he’s just burnt out? But even his sex toys are boring him now, and the ache between his thighs is becoming unbearable. But he doesn't bother even trying tonight.

Laid in bed, lazily stroking his throbbing cock for the third night in a row, he feels a tear trickle down his cheek.

Enough is enough. Is this what he’s been reduced to? A sad, sobbing mess, jerking off alone on a Friday night?

He can't have that.

And so an hour later, he’s marching into the bar, the one he always starts at, and strides right up to you.

‘Hey,’ he nods, eyeing you. ‘You were here last week. You turned me down, remember?’

This time, he’s taking a more direct approach. He doesn’t have time to waste if he's going to change his luck.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I want you to come home with me,’ he says, plain, and then a little more seductive, 'I... I haven't stopped thinking about you.' It's a lie and you both know it.

‘No, thanks.’

‘A-alright. May I ask why?’ He might as well try and figure it out at the source since he’s dragged himself all the way here.

‘I don’t do one night stands. Not my thing. You seem very…’ your eyes drag up and down his body and he notices the way your lip curls at one side, ‘nice, but, no, thank you.’

They rarely do until they meet me, he thinks, but instead he says, ‘What if we don’t call it that?’

He turns to the bartender and gestures something, and you guess he must come here a lot because the man not only recognises him but immediately begins work on mixing two drinks.

Unfortunately, he’s so hot your general rule of no one night stands suddenly seems a stupid guideline to have placed on yourself. You begin to wonder, what if?

‘What are we supposed to call it then?’ you ask, with a sigh of resignation and a curiosity that slips though just enough to set excitement bubbling in his gut. ‘You won't call me after. I'll never see you again. Or, if I do, you'll pretend you don't know me. What can we call that?’

‘An adventure? Having fun? Whatever you want,’ he says eagerly, leaning in to follow up with a whisper. ‘One thing I can guarantee.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Orgasms like you’ve never experienced.’ His voice has dropped low, breath hot against your ear, and your core clenches.

You didn't realise one night stands cared about a single orgasm let alone the plural. Fuck. You want him.

‘But I don’t even know your-’

‘Jacob.’ Wow that was too fast.

‘Okay, Jacob. Let’s say I come home with you. Hypothetically. What then?’

He’s never had to play desperate before, but your response to it is making his blood run hot. For the first time in his adult life he’s not sure what to say, dazed by his bodies reaction to you. Is he playing desperate or just plain pathetic? His cock twitches and he grips the edge of the bar, not going unnoticed by you.

The cocktails he ordered are placed on the bar in front of you and you turn to take yours, delighted at the taste. He has good taste. You could tell that a mile off, but feeling it against your tongue hits different.

‘Oh, this is good!’ you exclaim, wondering why he hasn’t picked up his drink. When you turn back, ready to accept his invitation after all, he’s not there.

Well, he is there. Just not where you left him.

He’s knelt at your feet, gazing up at you, and suddenly you understand the true meaning of the phrase puppy dog eyes. And it makes your heart race. You suddenly feel the need to slam him against a wall, strip him bare and watch him tremble.

‘I’ll do whatever you want me too,’ he promises. ‘Give you whatever you need. Thats what’ll happen if you come home with me.’

‘Anything?’ you ask, knees turning weak at how utterly needy he looks down there.

‘Anything.’

‘Let me get my coat.’

[fallenrocket]

I feel a little apprehensive putting this into words. I guess I'll just start by saying that this is 100% IMHO. I know a lot of people are celebrating "Rogue" and really love the Doctor/Rogue dynamic--I'm not contradicting them or trying to downplay the significance of seeing the Doctor in a same-sex romance, especially after the show seemed to hold back with the Doctor and Yaz. I get that this episode is a big ol' "happy Pride to us!" moment for a lot of fans, and they have every right to feel that way. I just want to talk about why I, an aroace who views the Doctor as aspec, had a hard time fully embracing it.

From the moment I heard chatter that Fifteen was going to be drawn more to men than women, I was fine with it. As I've said before, one of the fun things about Doctor Who aspec headcanons is that each regeneration feels ace in different ways. Most of the new Who Doctors are some flavor of romantic, and plenty of them have been neutral or receptive to men flirting with them. It's all good. I just hoped that an m/m-leaning Doctor still felt ace to me, the way that m/f- and f/f-leaning Doctors have. I was hoping not to get, "The Doctor is gay now, and he's DTF!"

In my view, when the Doctor is drawn to someone, it's always primarily about who they are and what they do, not what they look like. The Doctor does use words like "beautiful," "gorgeous," and "sexy," but they're far more likely to use them in reference to a machine/creature/constellation than to a person. The Doctor forges deep soul connections in their romances while also giving just as much weight and respect to their platonic connections (love you forever, Fifteen and Ruby!) The Doctor's version of "flirting" is usually just being themselves, which people can't help falling in love with, and they're often slow to realize other people are flirting with them. Different Doctors have different reactions to kissing, but 1) they're often the one being kissed, not the other way around, and 2) they often find themselves surprised by kisses. When it comes to sexual references/propositions, their responses usually range from uncomfortable to confused to "does not register at all that there is something sexual here."

Nine when Jackie gives him the old "there's a strange man in my bedroom, anything could happen": ...No.

Ten when Lilith tries to seduce him: Now, that’s one form of magic that’s definitely not going to work on me.

Eleven when Craig says to give him a shout if he needs privacy with a girlfriend or boyfriend: Oh, I will! I’ll shout. Yes, something like, “I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS!!”

Twelve when River points out that he has no idea whether or not she looks "amazing": Well, you, you’ve moved your hair about, haven’t you?

Thirteen when Yaz's mum asks if they're dating: ...I don’t think so. Are we?

Now, I get that the show doesn't owe me an aspec Doctor, but what it's given me so far has pretty much always fit into that headcanon nicely. I love that this show is led by a brilliant, imaginative, compassionate hero who has boundless love for their friends and doesn't really care about sex.

That's the energy I was hoping for with Fifteen, and "Rogue" doesn't really deliver it for me. I'm not saying that an aspec person can't respond to Rogue the way the Doctor does, but to me, it just feels off compared to how the Doctor usually is in romantic situations.

When Rogue invites him for a walk outside and the Doctor remarks, "Fast mover," before following him--would any other Doctor take that as a proposition?

Just generally leading with the physical--handsome strangers, commenting on how good Rogue looks in his jacket, "you're hot" on the psychic paper. Again, I've seen the Doctor fall for people based on their bravery, their kindness, their intelligence, their skill in a crisis, etc. They usually are hot, in the way that most people on TV are, but that's not why the Doctor likes them. And with Rogue, that seems to be the very first thing the Doctor notices about him. What qualities of his is the Doctor drawn to?

The Doctor taking more of a lead when it comes to overt flirtation--given that Rogue is kind of a brusque, prickly loner, he likely wasn't going to start it off, but it feels weird to me to see the Doctor take the reins on a romance that isn't some kind of pretense (a la Ten proposing to Queen Elizabeth because he's trying to prove she's really a Zygon.)

I'm not about to say this episode is blatantly sexualized or "think of the children!" or anything like that. And honestly, Fifteen's portrayal here isn't drastically far off from previous characterizations of the Doctor. But there are just lots of little things that, if I was writing it, I'd have nudged slightly to put the Doctor's reactions to Rogue more in line with how they reacted to Rose/Reinette/River/etc.

***

I'd open with the Doctor curious about Rogue as someone who clearly isn't from that time/place, drawn more to the mystery than anything else. When Rogue is dour in response, the Doctor teases him--he's at a party, he's in a playful mood, and he wants the guy to lighten up.

They go outside--maybe together, maybe separately--but they both come across the duchess's shoe, shortly followed by the duchess herself. Rogue makes a clever observation or asks an Excellent Question that piques the Doctor's interest, but then he's disappointed when Rogue pulls the gun on him. Something along the lines of, "Bounty hunter? Just when I thought I met someone interesting," or, "I thought you were clever! How can you find so much evidence and follow it to exactly the wrong conclusion?"

Still, the Doctor's annoyed, not worried. He's confident that he can either convince Rogue he's wrong or get away, so he keeps up the teasing. But when Rogue takes him back to his ship, the Doctor quickly picks up on the fact that it's made to be flown with two. He's becoming slightly more worried about his own predicament, but he also wonders what pain Rogue is trying to conceal, and the little surprising touches around the ship--the DnD dice, the music--are piquing his interest again.

The Doctor uses the scanner to prove he's not a Childur, and Rogue realizes he only wants to capture the right person. The Doctor starts to think maybe there's hope for this guy yet. They go to the TARDIS and have basically the same conversation: "Pure Imagination," the pitch to travel with the Doctor (with added emphasis on there being better possibilities out there than bounty hunting,) and the two of them opening up about continuing on after loss. It's in this scene that Rogue really starts to feel drawn to the Doctor. He considers a kiss, but the Doctor is distracted by reprogramming the triform and misses signals that are visible from space.

Back at the ball, the Doctor and Ruby reconnect and catch each other up. Somewhere in there, they have a brief side exchange about Rogue. Ruby makes a comment about his good looks, and the Doctor says something like, "Is he? Now I know he's a bounty hunter, but he wants to do the right thing here. And no one who listens to Kylie could be all bad!" He spitballs a few "scandalous" ideas before realizing that him and Rogue dancing would be the juiciest. Fewer pregnant pauses and smoldering looks here, maybe some awkwardness like, "We could--I mean, if you wanted to--just to draw her out, mind..."

It's during the dance that the Doctor really starts to twig that he might be catching feelings, even as he stays focused on the task at hand. And it's not until Rogue pulls the proposal move that it occurs to the Doctor that Rogue might possibly be catching feelings for him too.

Climax mostly plays out the same way. Again, less of a pregnant pause with the kiss. Lean into the Doctor's distress over Ruby--maybe Rogue says something like, "Shh, it's okay," before going in for the kiss. The Doctor's face registers surprise, then he kind of melts into it, then before he knows it, Rogue has swapped places with Ruby and is telling the Doctor to find him. And then he's gone.

And this has nothing to do with ace stuff, but I'd set the last scene between the Doctor and Ruby in the TARDIS, with Ruby walking in to find the Doctor aggravated that he's tried numerous options and can't lock onto a way to track Rogue. He tries to play it off--"It was always a longshot, endless dimensions out there. Where to next, huh?"--and Ruby shuts him up and encourages him to let himself feel this loss.

***

But I dunno. Equality doesn't equal equity. Maybe if the Doctor's romance with Rogue had a similarly light touch as some of their m/f connections, people would be arguing that it wasn't really a romance. That the Doctor "clearly" wasn't into Rogue like Rogue was into him, or that the show was pulling its punches with a "sanitized" m/m romance. I can't speak to that experience, and maybe my version wouldn't come off well for reasons I can't see.

And like I said, if you love the Doctor/Rogue, that's great. I'm glad that you got an episode like this during Pride, and I know I can't blame a show for not following my headcanon. I went into "Rogue" apprehensive but hoping I'd love it, and these are just my thoughts and reactions to the episode.

[safetycar-restart]

okay but

having charles cum by grinding against your ass???? yes pls

the poor thing is just ten times more hot and bothered than he usually is. and usually, that's a lot. and you're cutting up some strawberries for him – his favorite fruit. meanwhile, he's behind you, arms around your waist as he nuzzles his face into your neck, whining into your ear.

"please, mommy. please let me fuck you, please, please, please." he begged, his voice soft and gentle. "i'll be such a good boy, just let me feel you, wanna make you cum." he continues, but you don't budge. service sub, he is.

"not now, darling." you answer softly, cutting the strawberries. "be patient, okay? then mommy's gonna play with you." you added, but he whined in protest. "but i want you now."

you shake your head softly, with a gentle "mm-mm", as he clings onto you, kissing your shoulder and your neck. "tell you what," you start, and he immediately perks up. "while i cut this, if you can cum by grinding against me, i'll let you fuck me right after."

charles, knowing that that's better than nothing, agrees. he's in the perfect position too. pressed up against your ass, half-hard already. sure, his sweatpants and your own make it a bit harder to grind against you, but it also feels all the much better cause of it.

he's a mess, whining and whimpering, letting out gibberish moans right next to your ear as his hands sit on your hips, as he just desperately grinds and ruts against you. just this has his eyes rolling back. you can only imagine how he is when he's inside you.

and you're unbothered, just cutting up strawberries while he moans into your ear like crazy while he literally grinds his cock against your ass. and of course, it doesn't take him that long to cum in his pants, leaving a stain on both layers of his clothing.

and yes, you kept your side of the deal. you let him fuck you right after. now he's a happy boy <3.

Right lads, time to return to absolute filth with subby Charles.

So firstly, yeah Charles just gets SO needy sometimes. It's almost like he works himself into a panic? And then all the poor thing can do is whine and beg and cling to you. When he gets like that, you know there's no way to snap him out of it without at least two orgasms.

Maybe he had been horny from the moment he woke up? Except he had an early morning training session to get to so he couldnt get a sleepy hand job in bed, which he was NOT pleased about. He pouted all the way through breakfast.

But of course, he goes to his training session and does all his exercises and everything because he's a good boy and he always follows all his rules. The moment he gets back, you have a horny, sweaty Charles in your lap. You have to order him to go shower or else he'd refuse to move from your arms.

It's after he's showered and changed that he finds you in the kitchen preparing him a little post workout snack. Which of course he's very thankful for but he's horny! He's been horny all day! You must help!

The poor thing is just whining in your ear and gripping you tight and begging to fuck you. He's not even saying full sentences, just random phrases of 'mommy... please... mommy wanna fuck... need mommy' in your ear and of course there's no way you could just ignore him.

When you tell him he can grind against you, he's so happy! Even though of course it doesn't feel as good as when you play with him, it's still so so nice. Especially because he's hugging you!

When he gets close, he basically leans all his weight on you, shaking and desperately humping you, whining and begging for permission to cum.

All you have to do to get him there is to lift your one hand up and lightly tug his hair and he's cumming in his pants.

At no point does he even notice you stopped cutting fruit a long time ago.

[lloydfrontera]

touch starved lloyd who will lean into any gentle touch he gets without thinking about it, who never initiates anything but is also never the first to pull away, who sometimes flinches at unexpected contact but will gravitate closer to those he trusts so he's always withing arm's reach

[kaizynofsickness]

❝Just a sex doll?❞

Wolf Sukuna and bunny reader (this is like part 5, very short)

Warning: not much, but there is hints and allusions at sex, kinky talk and shit, some sad themes but generally Sukuna trying to be soft. Trying.

A/N: this was an ask from an anon (you know who you are), and I just needed some mild fluff in here. This made my pussy leak. I'm just saying.

How long has it been now? A few months since you've become a cute little cock sleeve.

Currently, you're sitting in Sukuna's lap, breast pressed against his chest, ruffling his messy and choppy pink hair, flicking his pointy wolf ears on top. Ever since he started to get more responsive with his tail and all, you've been touching him even more. Maybe you're taking advantage of being near a predator without dying.

He just sits and looks pass you, paying you no mind while you fuck with him, staring at the TV show of some bad slasher film. He hates predictable plots, and you're only learning that today from all the months you've been with him.

You start to tug at his ears softly, an attempt to get his attention.

Either he doesn't mind or doesn't feel it, but he won't look at you. The only time all his four eyes are on you is when you two are having sex. You're just noticing that.

The realization makes you huff; but you shouldn't expect much, anyways. This is Sukuna we're talking about here.

"'kuna." You dare to break the silence, leaning back to get in front of his view with a small pout. He snaps his attention to you, one of his large four hands going to the small of your back. "What, rabbit?" He narrows his eyes at you in question.

"i just wanna know..." you look off nervously, your bunny ears backing down on your hair, showing your uncomfortable condition. Sukuna hates when you delay like he's going to cook you if you say something wrong—your pussy taste good so maybe your skin will— "spit it out." He demands, his grip on your back tightening, nails poking at your clothing.

"do you... only use me for sex?"

Sukuna looks at you like a dumb bug in his food, tilting his head. You swore you just saw his wolf ears shrink down to his skull... his eyebrows knit together and he looks rather pissed. "Where is this dumb question coming from?"

You shrug and look back down, delaying an answer again. "Dunno. Jus' wanted to know." You meekly respond, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt to avoid his gaze.

He snaps your head to his by yanking your chin aggressive, earning a small whimper to pass from your soft lips. His grip may be rough, but he leans in to plant a gentle kiss on your lips, molding into yours with a small content sigh. His tongue poking on your lips, almost as if asking to go inside, and you don't even argue.

And, oh, you just love kisses. And Sukuna knows this, you always beg for foreplay when he fucks you dumb, especially when you're looking for affirmation to know you're doing good. So you don't even dare fight back and stop fidgeting with things and lean onto his broad chest, gripping his shoulders gently while sitting in his lap.

He breaks apart with a heavy sigh, eyes finally on you. All of them.

"you truly are a dumb bunny." He scoffs out a laugh, "give me a good reason why I would bathe a slut that I only wanna fuck?" He keeps his grip on your chin to make you look at him, his lips only a few inches away from yours. "Why would I eat out a sex toy? Why would I compliment you how well you do if you're just a fling for me? Waste my time on a whore?" He rolls his eyes and his low tone is laced with mocking intentions, like he's calling you dumb in so many different ways.

"Please, bunny, get some sense for crying out loud."

You process all his words, ignoring the fact he just called you stupid and look at him with those cute doe eye —that look better with tears of bliss in them— "so—"

"of course not, rabbit. Damn." He cuts you off with a bonk on your head, making your bunny ears flop.

He was so aggressive with you, but you guess this is his way, hanging out with you, his aftercare and even his preparations, to show he cares for you somewhat.

Your little cotton tail starts to throb and you wear a cute cheeky smile. You lean into his chest while he watches the show and listen to his negative comments.

If he was to fuck you right now, you wouldn't be so mad.

This whole time I was thinking of "tell me, tell me, tell me yooouuu, want me, want me, want me toooo."

˚꩜⋆.°⭑Do not copy, translate, or steal in any way, reblogs are appreciated and allowed.

[harrysfolklore]

baby fever - husband!charles blurb

gif credits to @blueballsracing <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something you never got tired of no matter how many years passed was joining Charles for race weekends.

And ever since you became husband and wife a year ago, being by his side during races and practices felt even more exciting and special.

This weekend was no different, you were joining him for the Emilia Romagna GP and this time you were bringing the newest addition to your little family: your dog Leo.

"Do you have Leo's pass?" Charles asked as you sat on the back of the car that was driving you to the circuit.

"Yes, I have it," you said, scratching behind Leo's ears, "Do you hace your pass though? I didn't see you grabbing it before we left."

Charles eyes widened at your words, "Shit!", he exclaimed, patting his jeans pockets in search of his pass, "I think I forgot it back there."

"Of course you did," you rolled your eyes and shook your head, "You're such a teenager sometimes, always forgetting everything."

"Give me a break, woman. I've got a lot on my mind," Charles retorted playfully, leaning over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Let's just hope they'll let me in without it."

"I don't think they will," you laughed, feeling the car start to slow as it approached the entrance to the paddock. "It's not like you're Charles Leclerc driver for Scuderia Ferrari or something."

Charles threw his head back in laughter, kissing you cheek again and scratching Leo's little head.

The driver pulled up to the security checkpoint, and as predicted, the guards immediately asked for Charles’s credentials. Charles gave them a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. "I might have left it back at home," he confessed.

"Mr. Leclerc," the guard began, trying to keep a straight face. "This is the third time this season."

"Does it help that the dog has his pass?" you chuckled, holding up both your pass and Leo's as if to compensate.

"Alright, alright," the guard burst into laughter, shaking his head. "But next time, no excuses. We’ll let you through this time. Right Mrs. Leclerc?"

You smiled widely at the guard calling you by your new middle name, "I'll make sure he doesn't forget it!"

"Thank you!" Charles said, relieved, as the car was waved through. He reached over to scratch Leo's head. "Looks like you're the star of the show today, buddy."

Leo barked happily, tail wagging as you all stepped out of the car. The familiar buzz of the paddock enveloped you, the hum of engines, the chatter of the teams, and the clicking of cameras.

As Charles go through the gates, you and Leo following close behind, a camera from Ferrari's social media team approached him and asked how was he feeling about the start of Race Weekend.

"Started the morning without my pass," he said as he kept walking, Luckily they let me through and my wife had our dog's pass," you laughed quietly from behind him, "So today I can get to work and tomorrow we drive, so it's all good. But I almost missed out on race weekend for a pass."

The camera team chuckled at Charles’s confession, "Well, it’s good to know Mrs. Leclerc and Leo are on top of things," one of the team members remarked, directing the camera toward you and Leo.

"Always ready to save the day!" you gave a playful salute to the camera.

You and Charles made it to the Ferrari area, where his team would tell him what activities he had to do before getting in the track, as you walked hand in hand, you noticed that a couple of Tifosi were hanging around, and a little boy who's eyes lit up as Charles walked by caught your attention.boy,

"Baby, look," you called for Charles, pointing at the little boy, "Why don't you go say hi."

Charles followed your gaze and noticed the little boy standing shyly among the crowd of Tifosi, clutching a miniature Ferrari car in his hands. His eyes were wide with excitement as he looked up at Charles.

Charles smiled warmly and made his way over to the boy, crouching down to be at his level. "Ciao, piccolo amico," he greeted, extending his hand. "What's your name?"

The boy told Charles his name, and as you stood back watching the interaction, you couldn't help but think how good he was his kids.

Even before you got married, you and Charles had talked about wanting a family together, but you agreed that would needed to wait until the time was right.

However, every time you saw him interact with little kids you couldn't help but feel what people called "baby fever" take over your body.

The little boy handed Charles his little Ferrari toy for him to sign, "Now it's even faster!" Charles said as he handed it back to him, "Would you like to meet my wife and our dog, Leo?"

"Yes, please!" the boy's ever grew even wider.

Charles beckoned you over, and you walked up with Leo trotting happily beside you. "Hii, this is Leo. Do you want to pet him?"you said warmly

The boy hesitated for a moment, then reached out tentatively. Leo, always friendly, wagged his tail and leaned into the boy's hand.

"He's so soft," he said, beaming up at you. "And he's got his own pass!"

"Yes, he does," you laughed, "He's a very special member of the team."

After taking a few pictures with Charles, the boy went back with his parents with a happy smile on his face.

"You're really good with kids, did you know that?" you said to Charles, feeling his arm wrap around your waist and pull you to him.

"I love being around kids," he caressed your cheek softly, "Little fans always make my day."

"You'll be such an amazing dad someday," you let out before you could even stop yourself, watching Charles' smile grow bigger at your words.

"Am I sensing some baby fever?" Charles teased, making you cover your face in embarrassment.

"It's not baby fever!" you protested and Charles gave you a raised eyebrow, "It's not!"

"Sure, sure," Charles chuckled, pulling you closer and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Leclerc."

"Don't tease me, it's true," he raised an eyebrow at you again, "Okay, maybe I'm getting a bit of baby fever, but we agreed to wait until the time is right and that's fine."

"I know, I know," he pulled you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head, "But honestly, I can't wait to have our own little ones to bring to the races. You'd be an amazing mom and Leo would be a big brother."

You threw your head back in laughter, pecking his lips softly, "That sounds like the dream."

"It does," he kissed your lips again, "Now, I have to get to work to make my wife and kid proud."

"Go do that, Leo will be cheering you on."

[rafeandonlyrafe]

desperate measures

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, BABY TRAPPING!, pregnancy, female receiving oral

rafe thought it was just his paranoia, the gnawing thought in his mind that you were going to leave him. he never considered that it could be true, that you were putting plans into place.

until a rumor spread that you were fed up with his behavior. his over protectiveness, his anger issues. you love him, but think he needs to heal without you first. that's the claim thats whispered to him at the party, one you aren't attending, staying home to study for your online college class.

rafe rushes home, rage flooding through his veins, knowing he needs to do everything and anything to get you to stay. 

--

“hey gorgeous, almost done studying?” rafe combs his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your head.

“yeah.” you hum, tilting your head up to allow rafe to press a kiss to your lips. “just give me 15 more minutes and ill come to bed, mkay?”

“okay.” rafe nods, squeezing your shoulder in support as you go back to typing out your essay. 15 minutes gives him plenty of time to do what he needs to. 

rafe grabs the condoms out of his bedside table drawer, throwing them all onto the bed. he's not sure how many tries it'll take, but he's determined.

he moves to your pinboard next, grabbing a tack that holds up a picture of you and rafe when you first started your relationship, before you saw the dark side of him. rafe frowns at the picture instead of mimicking the smile in it like he normally does, now noticing the difference in you, your smile is not as wide, eyes duller, cheeks not as full. 

“fuck.” rafe shakes his head, angry at himself for letting you down without even realizing it. things are going to change, he has to fix it. he can’t let you leave. rafe moves back to the bed, pin in hand as he takes a condom package and presses a hole through it, making sure to skewer it completely through. he continues until every condom is poked, glad for once that you reacted badly to birth control and had to seek other methods to prevent getting pregnant.

rafe cleans up quickly, tossing everything back into the drawer and then pinning the picture back up, looking over the other snapshots that you put up. there's some of your friends, but most are of you and rafe. rafe knows you love him, he just needs to make sure you never stop.

“whatcha looking at?” you ask as you enter the room, voice light and airy despite the bags under your eyes. rafe credited it to you taking college classes, but was now worried that he contributed to your current state.

“just how beautiful you are.” rafe doesn't miss the look on your face, the surprise.

“oh.” you blush, raising your hands to press your fingertips into your cheeks.

“and im really sorry if i haven't been telling you that enough lately.” rafe crosses over to you, hands coming to cup your cheeks, your hands trapped under his.

“what are you doing rafe?” you question.

“i haven’t been treating you well enough lately and im so sorry for that baby. i love you.” rafe presses his lips against yours. you react to the kiss, pushing past the surprise to kiss back, sliding your hands out from under his to grip his shirt, tugging his body into yours.

“are you tired princess?” rafe asks, lips still skimming over yours as he questions it.

“n-no.” you shake your head, bottom lip pouting out, making rafe lean in to kiss it. “why?”

“because i want you.” rafe smirks. he's used to your excuses. tired, headache, need to shave, need to eat, anything to get out of it.

“oh!” your eyebrows widen. “yeah.” you press yourself closer to rafe. it's been a long time since you felt the rush of lust for him, since he's treated you so sweetly, talked so candidly. no sign of anger or resentment hiding in his eyes. “yeah, i want you too.”

“good.” rafe moves you to the bed. his hands work effortlessly as his mouth distracts you, pulling at your clothes until you're naked, all of his clothes still on.

“rafe, let me see you.” you pout, tugging at his shirt.

“no, let me focus on you, princess.” rafe moves lower to wrap his mouth around your nipple, giving you full attention while his other hand cups the other side of your chest.

“rafe.” you whine, completely forgetting about your relationship issues, about how you were just thinking of the right time to leave him as he plays with your chest, ignoring your cries and pleas for him to give you more.

“spread your legs, baby.” rafe pushes at your thighs until you help him, spreading your knees apart to present yourself to him.

rafe lays between your thighs, but not before pulling his shirt off, granting you your wish of having him at least get closer to the state of undress you're in.

“such a pretty pussy baby. gonna give it so much lovin’, it's what you deserve.” rafe rubs your inner thighs, eyes locked on your wetness. 

“what has gotten into you rafe?” you let out a breathy laugh, starting to get slightly suspicious of how sweet he's acting.

“just wanna appreciate my lovely girl.” rafe moves closer, inhaling your scent before his tongue licks through your wetness.

you fist your hands in the sheets as he focuses in on your clit, knowing nothing gets you off faster than him sucking at your most sensitive part.

“rafe, oh my god!” you squeal. it's been a long time since he's given you head, and rafe is wondering himself why it's been so long since he tasted you on his tongue, moaning to himself as he swipes through what he swears is better than pure honey.

“so delicious.” he moans, the words vibrating over your pussy as he barely pulls away to speak, mouth greedily sucking at your clit, tongue rolling incessantly over it.

“it-it feels so good.” you moan, moving one hand to rafes head, his hair too short to grip onto, but you need the physical connection to him.

rafes eyes slide closed, concentrating on making you cum as soon as possible so he can get inside of you, his cock so hard he has to grind into the bed just to relieve himself slightly, knowing what he is about to.

rafe brings a finger to your entrance, carefully pushing in, knowing since it's been a while that he's going to have to open you up to take him. he immediately picks up speed to match to intensity of his mouth, only stopping sucking to press a few kisses to your clit.

“im-im gonna cum rafe, oh my god!” you let out a squeal, back arching off the bed as he works you until your high breaks through, legs clenching around his head, thighs pressing in but rafe doesn't let it deter him as he works you through it, only stopping when your whine from the oversensitivity and push at his head.

“gotta get inside you.” rafe pulls away, making sure to remove his finger carefully. he reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing a condom, knowing you won't notice the small hole pressed through the foil as you breathe deeply, recovering from your orgasm.

rafe tears the packaging open, standing up to briefly pull his pants and underwear off, sliding the condom over his hard cock, smirking when he can tell precisely where the small hole is. no way you wouldn't get pregnant, and then there is no way you'd be able to leave him.

“how you want me baby?” rafe asks. he knows his preference. to turn you over and have you on your hands and knees, ass presented to him.

“like this.” you open your arms up, wanting rafe close to you.

he nods, draping himself over your body, lips covering yours as his cock presses against your entrance, sinking in with a low moan.

your arms wrap around rafes shoulders, keeping him close to you, your chests pressed together as he lets you adjust for a moment, his cock pressing against your walls.

“god, ive missed this.” you mew out.

“gonna work on treating you so much better.” rafe says, a look of seriousness overtaking his features. “you're mine, baby.” he finished his words with a thrust. “all mine.”

--

“rafe!” you finally manage to shout out. you hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs, entering the bedroom and then finally the bathroom where you're hunched over the toilet.

“baby?” he questions, kneeling next to you, hands moving carefully.

“it's my stomach.” you groan, pressing a hand to your abdomen. “i must have come down with something.”

“yeah.” rafe nods. “im gonna get you a water.” rafe has to leave the room, he can't let you see him celebrate your morning sickness when you don't even know the true cause yet.

--

“when you get a minute…” your hands are wrestling with each other behind your back, trying to control your nerves. “i need to talk to you.”

rafe smiles. surely you must have had a suspicion yourself and taken a pregnancy test. surely that's what you must be holding behind your back.

“i have a minute right now.” rafe stands up from his desk, crossing the room. when he goes to place his hands on your shoulders, you take a deep inhale, not even meaning to retreat yet you step back into the doorway.

“baby?” rafe questions.

“im pregnant.” you blurt out.

rafe tries to control his excitement, tries to mimic shock before he pulls you into a hug, feeling how tense you are. “baby, that’s so exciting! oh my god, we are gonna be parents.” he takes your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips, even though you don’t really reciprocate. “you’re gonna be the best mom ever.”

“i… i have something else to tell you too.” you feel tears fill your eyes, not stopping them from flowing down your cheeks. “i was gonna break up with you.” you let out a sob, burying your face in rafes chest as you continue. “i was gonna break up with you until i took a test and it came back positive. i’m so sorry rafe, i never wanted to leave i just thought-”

“hey, shh.” rafe strokes your back gently. “the past is the past. this baby will bring us together, okay? we are gonna be parents, happy, in love parents. thats what matters.”

you nod, snuggling into rafe as he kisses the top of your head, glad that you can’t see the smirk on his face, his plan executed perfectly.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout

[stylesharrys]

Special Brownies [Weedrry]

Harry and Y/N accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.

A/N: I came up with this idea very randomly and I have written it as fast as I possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! If it doesn't, enjoy <333

Warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.

WC: 2.3k

//

It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.

And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.

There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.

She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.

When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.

She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.

It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.

“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”

Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.

“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on  the opposite end of her.

Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”

Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”

He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.

She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”

Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.

First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?

“Do we have to?” he grumbles.

Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”

Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.

Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.

They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.

He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.

Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!

Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.

He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.

“We’re sharing a brownie?”

Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”

Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.

“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”

She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”

His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”

“Was she?” Y/N asks.

Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”

//

They can’t stop fucking giggling.

The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.

Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.

“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.

She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.

The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.

She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“They’re fucking weed brownies!”

Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.

“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”

She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.

“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”

Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.

He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.

They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.

Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.

And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.

Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.

Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.

He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.

He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.

Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.

They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.

Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.

She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.

Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.

They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.

When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.

Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.

She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.

Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”

He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”

His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.

Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.

Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”

He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.

Harry loves it.

His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.

“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.

The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.

He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.

He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.

“I’m gonna come!”

Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.

He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.

Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.

Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.

Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.

It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.

It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.

Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.

“We are never to talk about this, understood?”

He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.

She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

//

let me know what you thought!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

[adollrable]

Talking in your sleep

ও summary: you hear your boyfriend say things while he sleeps.

ও cw: leon kennedy (re4r) x female reader! fluff, established relationship, him being a sleepyhead!

ও wc: 900

a/n: so i have this little headcanon... that when leon is deep in sleep, he talks while he sleeps... and that's all, it came to me listening to the song by the romantics :p something small (i think) i hope y'all like it =]

You love being with Leon.

You always learn something new with him day by day. Either from the anecdotes of him training in the military, or those (scarce) of him training to be a police officer.

At first he was a closed man, without the slightest desire to open his heart. You changed that, and now you are his little treasure.

There are still things that he hasn't finished showing but as you told him in a memory of your first date, you can go little by little.

Lately, you've learned more about small details and habits that he wouldn't feel comfortable showing around other people, you see more of him as a person.

So, you find yourself mesmerized by every new thing you see in him. Every detail, whether of his body or his personality.

Tiny moles, some acne marks on his cheeks, that stubble that never grows. His hair? How is it so soft and pretty? His fingers feel rough but his palms are very soft, probably because of the fingerless gloves he wears on his missions. His legs are strong but they are cozy when you sit on them for a cuddle session. His arms serve to warm you on those cold nights, and he loves to sleep cuddling next to you.

You also noticed that in public he is usually not a big fan of displays of affection, but in subtle ways he lets others know that you are not available. Hand on your waist, hands intertwined, kisses on your forehead, he offers you his jacket.

But at home? He pampers you as you deserve. Kisses everywhere, hugs from behind while you cook something for both of you, when you are very tired of wearing heels and you get home he doesn't hesitate to pick you up. And the list can continue.

Now... There's a little problem.

It may be silly, but it doesn't stop you from being insecure. And it's ridiculous to be!

But... The times Leon has said I love you are counted. You even think you can count them on the fingers of just one hand.

And you understand that everyone has different languages to express their love to their loved ones... But you bombard him with "i love you's" every day and he responds with a kiss on the cheek.

It sucks to feel insecure about that when it is obvious that the man loves you, even more so knowing that he is still a closed guy about several things.

But still, you can't help it.

You adjust the sheets in your shared room, lying on the bed, followed by Leon who lies on his side. You look at him and smile as you lean down to place a kiss on his forehead to which he smiles slightly. "Is that a good night kiss?" Leon asks as he settled down next to you, resting his head on your chest.

"Mhm, so you have nice dreams." You responded to which the smile on his face remained. You wrapped your arms around him and let out a sigh. His cool skin greeting your hands as you delicately ran them down his back, feeling his muscles relax.

Leon always sleeps without pajamas, and if it's cold he only puts on cotton pants. He says it's enough for him to have you and the sheets to keep him warm.

"Sleep well baby." He says as he similarly wraps his strong arms around you, a firm grip but not so tight as to hurt you. "Sleep well, Lee."

And with that, between small, lazy smiles, you fell asleep.

Until you started hearing things.

Your sleepy mind does its best to bring you back to consciousness, and you come across an image so sweet that it made you smile.

Leon remained asleep on your chest, one arm thrown over your stomach. His cheek was pressed against one of your breasts and made his face bulge, his lips remain in a small pout. You wanted to kiss him until you were tired. But you noticed that he was very asleep.

One of the things you learned about him is that Leon is a light sleeper. At the slightest noise he wakes up.

Leon's missions, in addition to the horrors that come with doing his job and especially the stress, make it very difficult for him to sleep as peacefully as he is doing in your arms. So you are relieved that you can give him a little comfort to sleep so peacefully.

So, you gently ran your hands through his hair, which made him let out a sigh and move to cling closer to you. That made you stop for fear of waking him up, but what he did next surprised you.

You noticed how his lips (still pouting) parted slightly and the noise that made you wake up came from him. You were no stranger to this, as Leon sometimes had nightmares, but this time it was very different than usual.

"Mmph... B-baby?" His voice made you open your sleepy eyes, did you wake him up?

No... He's breathing very calmly. You doubt he's awake.

He tries to hold onto you tighter and tries again, "Babe..." His voice sounds thick and hoarse from his time asleep, and you hesitantly decide to answer him. "Yeah?"

"I love youuu..." He mutters, that made you smile. "I looove you sooooo muuuch." It was funny in a way, his voice was muffled by his bulging cheek.

A small but almost imperceptible giggle took over you. "I love you too, Lee."

That interaction filled your heart with warmth, feeling happy that in his dreams he had the courage to tell you that he loved you. But what you didn't believe was that he would spend the next... Thirty minutes babbling about how much he loves you.

Well... You're probably going to wake up with a headache, but certainly that insecurity that he doesn't tell you that he loves you so often disappeared.

a/n: well, i'm not that sure about this one BUT i like to post silly little things =] i wasn't sure what to say to justify leon saying i love you to reader while he's sleeping LOL sorry about that

i had four exams this week and somehow i managed to approve them so my little treat is writing ;p

i just know this man TALKS embarrassing corny things while he sleeps and i just want him to nap in my arms 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

thanks 4 everyone for reading this, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🤲🏻🤲🏻🤲🏻 that's all for this time, bye-bye

[geltears]

heart throb

Nanami Kento x Reader

Nanami basks in the presence of his wife, his toddler and precious newborn daughter -> @suyacho girl!dad collab entry

prequel: 3’s a crowd (smut)

cw: dad!Nanami, wife!reader, toddlers & newborns, tooth rotting fluff, slight suggestiveness

Shhh.

Nanami ushers your 5 year old through the door, shushing her and rubbing one of his big hands gently over her head, ruffling the not-so-neat up-do you sent her off with this morning.

The house is silent and cold save for the heat radiating from the kitchen where he knows you've already made dinner and left it on the stove to cool. He swoons at the sight of you when he finally spots you cuddling your newborn on the rocking chair, both your faces scrunched in peaceful delight as you sleep.

"Mommy?" Namiko's whisper isn't as quiet as she hoped and her baby sister begins to stir in your hold, small legs kicking softly at the pink blanket swaddling her.

"Hi baby, how was school?" you coo at her, beckoning her over as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

Subconsciously, you begin to bounce the restless baby in your arms, causing your husband to grin widely at you, pearly white teeth joining the other features on his handsome face.

Nanami watches with pure love and adoration as you shift to fit your toddler into your side, so carefully that your 4-month old just lovingly blinks at her father. His shirt is impossibly tight as warmth blooms in his chest for you and your daughters.

His sweet girls.

Namiko begins to babble about her day to you, most of it nonsensical and completely exaggerated but you smile at her anyway and tickle her belly to make her burst into a fit of giggles as you gush over the details with her. When you finally take notice of your poor husband it's because he's making faces at the baby and his googly eyes have become almost impossible to ignore.

"Hi Ken," you say, leaning to press a wet kiss to his cheek teasingly, "You having fun making faces at Keiko?"

Kento pokes his tongue out at you and Keiko gurgles as she attempts to copy her papa, spit bubbling out the corners of her mouth instead. Ever a daddy's girl, she starts to make grabby hands at him.

He scoops her up and spins around as he cradles her protectively to his chest, making her squeal out more delightful baby sounds and kick her feet wildly.

Keiko is such a strong baby, or so Nanami says as he winces playfully and clutches his chest in faux defeat. Your baby only stares up at him, blissfully unaware of her father's antics with nothing but pure amazement swimming in her pretty brown doe eyes.

Kento kisses her blonde tuft of hair softly. She's his mini-me, he swears.

"Mommy," Namiko croons in your ear, pawing at your side excitedly. You hum. "Can I hold Keiko, pretty please?"

There's not much you can do when your daughter sets her mind on something, especially when she pouts at you and leans her head into your side, attempting to snuggle closer to you.

Namiko doesn't mind having to sit on the baby play mat or having to put a pillow underneath the area that Keiko hovered over. She just basked in the rare opportunity to hold her baby sister that she had begged her papa for.

Nanami remembers the night vividly.

He had just told Namiko a bed time story and finally gotten her to settle into bed yet she still seemed so quiet and broody, a feeling that he recognised all too well. He would pluck the stars out of the sky and exploit Satorou into doing outlandish things if it meant keeping his girls happy but he couldn't help but be shocked as she popped the sudden question: 'Can I get a baby sister?'

"She's so cute," Namiko gushed. She poked a finger at her sister's belly lightly, giggling when the baby girl flashed her a gummy smile.

While your little girl made baby noises at her sister and rocked her gently, your husband had padded over to sit at the foot of your rocking chair.

He kissed your ankle softly, chuckling when you gasped and tried to shake him off. "Rough day baby? Is Kei still fussing?"

Nanami melded both your feet in his big hands, rubbing and caressing the stress away as you sighed in relief. Your eyebrows furrowed and if it were anyone else but Nanami who had spent countless nights admiring the slope of your face, the faint dark circles under your eyes would go unnoticed.

But it was Nanami, your husband, your love.

His heart ached for you and your sweet baby and her habit of bawling through the day.

"Hm Ken," you mused, one manicured hand coming down to tangle in his hair, "She slept 'til lunch."

Your pause morphs into a guttural groan as Kento presses firmly on your calve, working the stress out of you. "I fed her, pumped some milk for her nightly feed- and then you came home."

"See, she's a sweet girl. Just a lil fussy like our first baby, right?"

You giggle at him, forgetting that under your husband's cold appearance, he was still your sweet and charming Kento who had swooped you off your feet in high school and never let you down since then.

"They get it from you," you insist.

There was much to fix in the Jujutsu world, mischief was amock and perhaps, he could sense danger brewing. But for now and in the comfort of the walls of your home, lined with the scent and memories of his favourite girls, Nanami was at peace.

In the presence of his wife and daughters, there was nothing that could upset Nanami Kento and overpower the love he held for all of you.

.

Ao3

[rogueddie]

Stitched Together T | 698 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing

"Do you still have my vest?"

"Hello to you too?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows when Eddie takes that as his cue to push past Steve, into his house.

He quickly kicks the door behind him, curling an arm around Steve's waist to reel him into a quick kiss. "Hello! My old vest- you got it?"

"I do- I haven't been able to get the blood out yet."

"Oh, I don't want it," Eddie waves him off, already halfway up the stairs. "Come on, I need to see it!"

"What- Eddie!"

Steve hurries up the stairs after Eddie, who takes them two steps at a time. He hovers at Steve's bedroom door though, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting.

It's then that Steve noticed the plastic bag that he's holding.

"You gonna explain?"

"In a minute! I need to see my old vest first."

"It's in my closet," Steve explains, leading him into his room and pointing.

Eddie immediately jumps over to the closet, glancing back at Steve before he opens it to make sure it's ok for him to dig through it.

It doesn't take him long to find the vest, face splitting into a grin as he pulls it out.

"Perfect."

"So... what's going on?"

"I'm gonna make a new one. Wanted to remind myself how this bad boy is layed out first."

"Oh?"

"I'll only need it for, like, a few hours. I can get it back to you by the end of the day."

"What? Wh- you brought your stuff here."

"Yeah, I'm gonna stitch it together in the van. I was thinking about going out to the quarry."

"You could- I mean, if you want to, you could just... do it here? If you want to. I'm just gonna be baking today anyway."

"Hell yeah. Any excuse to spend more time with you is a great idea in my book."

Eddie follows him downstairs, setting up on the sofa in the living room, while Steve continues past him into the kitchen.

Steve pokes his head back in after a minute.

"You didn't want to talk, did you?"

"I know how you get when you bake," Eddie reminds him. "I'm ok here. If I need anything, I know where everything is."

"You could ask-"

"No, I couldn't. It's ok, babe. Really. It's nice to just... know you're here."

"Oh. Really?"

"Really."

Steve goes back into the kitchen, but it's not long before he's washed the side, the bowls and utensils he used. All he needs to do is wait for his food to bake.

He wanders back into the living room, sitting on one of the arm chairs.

Eddie barely glances up, focused on his task.

He doesn't seem bothered that Steve is staring, so he just... watches.

It's surprisingly nice. Comforting.

He can see how much care Eddie is putting into each patch, taking his time when pinning them in place and being careful with each stitch.

By the time the kitchen timer goes off, Eddie has only managed to stitch two patches on and started on the backpatch.

He follows Steve into the kitchen once he's done putting his things away, just in time for him to start plating.

"Looks delicious."

"Mhmm," Steve grins. He pulls Eddie closer with a hand on his hip as soon as he's within reach. "You?"

"Got two done in the time it usually takes me to stitch on one, so, I consider it a win."

"Good."

He tries to lean in, pepper Eddie's neck with kisses until he caves the way he always does, easily following Steve up to-

"We should do this more often," Eddie continues. "Hanging out like this. It's... nice. It really is."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, reluctantly pulling back. He can't bite back his sappy smile though. "You're gorgeous when you get into your passions."

"Careful, Harrington. Keep talking like that and people might start thinking you're in love with me."

"Mmm, I don't know, they might be into something."

His attempt to kiss Eddie is ruined by how much they're both laughing.

Steve is pretty sure it's one of the best days that he's ever been fortunate enough to live.

[the-atlas-sister]

RANDOM TOKYO REV HEADCANNONS BECAUSE IM BORED

Mikey does not fucking play around when you're play fighting. Maybe it's because of his ego or the title of being "unbeatable" but he does not mess around. You have had times when it's turned into a physical fight before you yield and give up. And it you're trying to play fight with him to just get him to pin you down or start something dirtier- it will not work. He just is so cocky and worked up that he will be absolutely oblivious to what you're trying to do.

Mikey also goes on more dates with Draken then he does with you. Draken says their not dates with a scoff but Mikey insists that they are. He says him and Draken are a package deal.

Chifuyu likes to lick you. Not in a sexual way either. You two will just be sitting together, cuddling and reading and he'll just stare at you before licking your cheek. He'll grin when you squeal and try and wipe it off with a disgusted look.

Husband!Draken cooks shirtless. King is unbothered. You often wake up to him cooking breakfast in just a pair of sweatpants.

Naoto shows his affection by giving you his favorite books. He's spent so much time focused on his police work and schooling that he doesn't exactly know how to show affection. One day when at a bookshop for a case, he noticed a copy one of his favorite books. He remembered that you had mentioned that you like hearing about his interests and hope to one day be able to gush with him about them. So he bought you the book and when he came back home gave it to you with a shy blush.

(I love Naoto- hehe)

Kakucho will often just stare at you. Before you started dating you thought it was because he fucking hated you. You often still think it's kinda creepy but now he'll mumble something like... "pretty," as he does and all creepiness melts into love.

Kokonoi bites you. Again, not in a sexual way- he'll just- nom. When it first happened it really freaked you out. He was staring at you and just leaning forward- gently biting down on your nose- not a nip- a whole ass chomp.

Mitsuya has a nasty habit of using the same language he does around his sisters with you. If you work with little kids you know what I mean. Once you were asking him to pass you some hot chocolate and he said, "What do we say?" with the most serious expression. Once you blinked at him and mumble a small, "please," he realized what he had said. He quickly turned red and profusely apologized.

Shinichiro gets genuinely offended when you call him anything but handsome or hot. Once you told him he was adorable and he was so offended. He was frosting some cookies you two had baked and he was just so concentrated, his tongue poking out from his lips. He was just so cute! "You're adorable," you told him with a smile. He told you to never say such a thing with the most serious face you had seen.

Izana likes to kiss your neck. You don't know if it's the sense of control it gives him or just the way it makes you blush, but he likes to randomly grab you by the back of the neck and place his thumb under your jaw before kissing the front of your throat.

Rindo's love language is annoyance. Like he doesn't verbally tell you he loves you but he'll absolutely stick his finger in your ear while cuddling. And just like Kokonoi and Chifuyu, he'll bite and lick you to show affection. You're honestly on edge every time the both of you are cuddling.

Seishu hates being tickled. Like fucking despises it. As in will not hesitate to physically attack you if you try and tickle him. How you first found this out was while you were trying to get a one up on him as you were play fighting. As he was sat on top of you, you tried to tickle his sides. He ended up elbowing you in the face, resulting in a black eye and pretty major silent treatment.