#chill on that grasp he's not running away @ both

[livetogether--diealone]

ain't nobody stealing him from you buddy

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.4

synopsis: the night after what you shared with Sukuna leaves you even more unsure of your place. The problem is... Sukuna is unsure as well..

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⚝content: trueform!sukuna x f!reader, angst, sukuna is scared of feelings so he gets angry

⚝wc: 1.4K

⚝a/n: sorry about the wait but here it is!

The morning sun filters through the heavy curtains, creeping into the room, warm rays stirring you from your peaceful slumber. A chill runs down your spine, the events from last night rushing back into your mind.  You instinctively curl into the mattress, dread tightening in your chest as you resist the urge to open your eyes. The memory of his rippling muscles—taught with desire as he devoured you whole. Mind, body, and soul now owned by Ryomen Sukuna. 

Slowly—you allow yourself to wake, the oppressive silence of the room pressing down on you. Gathering the courage to look around, you cautiously open your eyes and realize with a mixture of relief that you are alone in the bed.

The space beside you, where Lord Sukuna had lain, was now empty. Sheets twisted and tossed, a testament to the night that felt like a fever dream—except it wasn’t a dream. It was real, painfully so. His touch still burns on your skin, his commanding voice echoes relentlessly in your mind.

You take a deep breath, you push the silken sheets aside and let your feet touch the cold, polished floor. The fear still gnawing at you as you take in the imposing surroundings. Everything in the room feels foreign–Dark, velvet drapes that hang heavily over the tall windows, their rich fabric absorbing the morning light. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries and carvings, each telling a story of his conquest and dominance. 

Every detail, from the plush carpet underfoot to the gilded frames of the artwork on the walls, speaks of a life far removed from your own. It’s a world of excess and control, where Ryomen reigns supreme, and you—despite his affection—remain firmly beneath him.

You instinctively reach for the familiar comfort of your servant clothes. But as your hand moves across the bed, searching for the coarse fabric, you come up empty.

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance around. Your gaze lands on the edge of the bed, a silk robe draped over. Its soft fabric shimmering in the low light. You could work your whole life and probably not be able to even afford a thread from the fabric.

You hesitate, staring at it. Where are your clothes? The thought circles your mind, tinged with a growing sense of unease. Did Uraume have them removed? The realization sends a ripple of uncertainty through you, as if a small but crucial part of yourself has been taken away without your consent.

With hesitant fingers, you lift the robe, the cool, smooth fabric slipping through your grasp like water. As you drape it over your shoulders, the robe clings delicately, the comfort it offers is strange, almost elusive, leaving you feeling both sheltered and exposed all at once. The unease sits heavily in your chest as you stand in front of the mirror, the robe whispering against your skin as you move. It was beautiful… and yet did nothing to quell your swirling thoughts.

As you move towards the door, each step feels like you’re walking on knife’s edge, the fear of encountering him again weighing heavily on your mind. The corridors are eerily silent, the massacre of your former colleagues still weighing heavily on your mind. With each step, the walls seem to close in around you, the grandeur of  Ryomen’s domain feeling more like a labyrinth than a sanctuary. The echoes of your footsteps are swallowed by the silence, the tension in your chest growing with each step.

You push open the heavy doors to the dining hall, Sukuna is seated at the head of the table. Two arms rest casually against his broad chest, while the others handle a cup and a delicate scroll with an air of nonchalant grace. His focus unwavering as he converses with Uraume.

You stand there, momentarily frozen, your heart pounding with a rush of uncertainty. Sukuna’s gaze flickers briefly in your direction, a fleeting, detached acknowledgment that sends a shiver down your spine before he returns to the scroll before him.

“You’re awake,” His voice rumbles through the room. 

“Yes…I... Good morning.” You reply, voice trembling slightly.

You look to the left, where the separate table that Sukuna had made for you was. Your body instinctively moves towards it, seeking comfort in the familiarity of your designated space.  But, just as you approach the modest seating, Ryomen clears his throat.

“I have placed a seat at my table.” His declares, voice booming with authority. His eyebrow raises slightly in a subtle display of impatience as he observes your hesitation. You walk towards the long polished table, no other seats besides the large one at the head where he sat and a smaller seat—plain and unadorned—awaits at his left side.

As you sit in the smaller chair, your gaze drifts over the spread of food. The array of dishes—rich, aromatic, and intricately prepared—lies before you, the inviting scents mingling with the weight of your uncertainty. You hesitate, caught between the urge to partake and the fear of overstepping.

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of annoyance evident in his gaze. The king lets out a soft, exasperated sigh, the sound resonating through the room.

“Eat.” He finally mutters before turning his attention to his own plate. You dig into the food, realizing how much of an appetite you had worked up. As the savory tastes hit your tongue you sigh contently. Uraume had really outdone themselves this time. You become absorbed in the rich tastes and textures, savoring each mouthful with growing appreciation, you’re completely unaware of Sukuna’s intense gaze. His eyes, sharp and unblinking as his eyes fix on you with curiosity.

Sukuna's gaze remains fixed on you. The room is silent except for the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional rustle of Sukuna’s scroll, but beneath this calm facade, tension simmers.

In his mind, Sukuna wrestles with an unsettling question: You are nothing... a mere servant, so why do you stir him so? 

Why does the thought of you make his heart beat the slightest bit faster?

Why did he never wish for you to work again? For your delicate fingers to only ever touch him?

The troubling ache in his chest, a visceral disturbance that he cannot quell, fuels his growing irritation and frustration.

His grip on the cup tightens so painfully that the delicate porcelain begins to tremble, its integrity threatened by his crushing hold.

 Sukuna’s internal struggle reaches a fever pitch, and the suffocating silence around him becomes unbearable.

Finally, unable to contain his mounting anger, Sukuna slams his cup down onto the table with a force that rattles the dishes. The sudden noise startles you, and you look up, your eyes wide with fear as you see the dark storm of rage flickering in his gaze.

“You—” Sukuna’s voice erupts, sharp and laden with frustration. “I am starting to think you are aware of more than you let on…”

Your gaze flickers up from your meal, confusion etched on your face, only to ignite further fury in Sukuna. He rises with a sudden, predatory grace, his towering presence casting a menacing shadow. “Do you think you’re so insignificant that you can’t grasp the depth of your impact?” His voice dripping with disdain.

“My lord, I—” you stammer, but the words catch in your throat under the weight of his ire.

His eyes lock onto yours with fierce intensity “Have I given you the impression that you have the right to challenge me? To.. stir these–” He pauses irritation bubbling over.

With a swift, contemptuous motion, Sukuna pushes back his chair, the scrape against the floor echoing like a battle cry. His eyes burn with unbridled rage as he storms out, the doors slamming shut behind him with a resonant crash.

You are left alone, shaken and trembling, the weight of his scorn and frustration heavy in the air. What could you have done to upset him? The way he handled you with such care last night was a stark contrast to the venom he had just spewed. Maybe what you shared had just been a fleeting attraction, and maybe you were a fool for ever thinking that Ryomen could see you as more.

In the solitude of his chambers, Sukuna paces, the rhythm of his steps a mechanical counterpoint to the chaos in his mind. The severity of his outburst gnaws at him, a bitter aftertaste that refuses to be swallowed. The way you shrank under his gaze, trembled at the sound of his raised voice.

 He grips the edge of his desk, the solid wood grounding him as he wrestles with the swirling chaos in his mind.

The sight of your fear had struck a nerve, and beneath his exterior, he grapples with the unsettling realization that he has caused you distress. And with the new unsettling feeling of how exactly to do something he hadn’t done in his centuries of existence…

Apologize.

taglist (FULL NOW IM SORRY) @quinnyundertow @devastyle @bokuatsubro @alt-her @novembersavior @twinkyjohnson @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @bubb13gumb1tch @kalulakunundrum @flowerpot113 @caratinluv @koyukilove @memers666 @saikilover7878 @smolbeanzzz @byul9158 @shadava @bellinghambby22 @pastelbunnelby @jvg02 @ohmykwonsoonyoung @goldenglow149 @imnotabot28 @s1urpjuic3 @nctislifue @szired @mold-ed @fuyuji-ii @samisfunky @junni-berry @call-memissbrightside @wil10wthetree @iamthehybrid @poemzcheng @00frenchfries00 @greentea-ellie @worldean @klutzylaena @heyheyheyggg @hillmiaxoxo @lashaemorow @kuudere-raia @didielly @thejujvtsupost @malazloje @dumplings4life0520 @kum1ko-chan @paprikaquinn @damnshorty @dumbmi

[rafecameronssl4t]

could u do Rafe x Thornton!reader where maybe instead of pope sinking toppers boat they’re acc trying to sink readers boat while her and Rafe are on it and pope runs into her or smth???

The forbidden zone || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: idk if i like this one, especially the ending 😭

Warnings: literally just swearing

Word count: 737

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Pope’s eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in the sight of the gleaming Ferretti Yachts 580 docked outside your house. The yacht’s sleek design and shiny exterior exude luxury and wealth. JJ, equally stunned, stares at the boat with his mouth slightly agape.

“This is war, Pope,” JJ declares, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and determination. “They hit us, so we hit them right back.” Pope swallows hard, trying to process the sight before him. “Is that even Topper’s boat? Could be his parents’ or—”

JJ cuts him off, pulling up his neck gaiter with a resolute shrug. “Who cares? It’s parked outside their place, so they must own it.” With a resigned exhale, Pope peels off his shirt, his frustration palpable. He takes a deep breath, then leaps into the water.

~

With your AirPods in, you’re sprawled out on the sun lounger of your family’s newest yacht, basking in the luxury of the latest addition to their boat collection. This sleek, state-of-the-art vessel was a birthday gift, a perfect upgrade from your parents’ previous boat. Topper, with his 2020 Malibu, seemed downright envious in comparison.

You’re sipping on a chilled iced tea when your timer chimes, signaling it’s time to flip over. Deciding you need to reapply some sunscreen, you rise from your seat, looking around for Rafe, who is somewhere aboard the boat.

Removing your AirPods and humming along to a catchy tune, you stroll around the yacht. “Rafe?” you call out. “Babe, where are you—” As you turn a corner, you come to an abrupt halt, your eyes widening in shock.

Pope stands there, his face a mix of panic and surprise. “What are you doing here?” you demand, crossing your arms as you take in his distress. Your gaze shifts to the open door leading down into the bilge, and a sense of dread washes over you. “Uh…” Pope stammers, his fear palpable. You quickly piece together the situation and realise something is wrong.

Without wasting another second, you dash towards the bilge, your heart pounding in your chest. The area is dimly lit and cluttered with machinery. You scan the space rapidly, searching for any signs of trouble. Suddenly, you hear a loud splash and bolt outside, only to see Pope frantically swimming away from the boat.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, disbelief and anger mingling in your voice. The sound of hurried footsteps reaches your ears, and you turn to see Rafe approaching with a look of panic. “What? What happened?” he asks urgently.

“I found Pope snooping around the bilge,” you say quickly, your voice tight with anxiety. Rafe’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops as he processes the information. “What? Where the fuck is he now?” Rafe demands, his gaze following your finger as you point toward Pope’s boat. You both watch in stunned silence as Pope scrambles aboard his boat with the help of some blonde you could only imagine to be JJ.

Rafe’s frustration is palpable as he watches Pope’s boat disappear into the distance. He turns to you, his face etched with concern. “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” His hands grasp yours firmly, his eyes scanning your body for any signs of injury or distress. You shake your head, assuring him that you’re unharmed.

“What was he even doing here?” Rafe mutters, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. He pushes past you, heading briskly toward the open bilge door. “Do you think he was trying to sink the boat?” you ask, your voice tinged with worry as you lean against the doorway, watching him intently.

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Rafe snaps back, irritation colouring his tone. “I don’t know,” you reply, your voice tinged with frustration. “But why else would he be in the bilge room?” Rafe exhales sharply, his annoyance momentarily giving way to concern.

He turns to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His hands rest possessively on the curve of your hips, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours. You lean in and press a gentle kiss to his neck.

“I think I should go tell Mum,” you say with a sigh, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace. Rafe nods, his expression firm and serious as he watches you walk off. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he scrolls through his contacts before clicking on Toppers contact.

Rafe

You won't fucking believe who snuck into your sister's boat while we were on it.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Come Back Knockin'

Benny Cross x reader (the bikeriders fic)

Summary: When Benny finds out you're pregnant, he panics and takes off. You don't think he's ever going to come back to you, so you start trying to figure out your future without your husband by your side. And then one day, there's a knock at your door.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free*, lots of cursing, mentions of abandonment, angst but not forever, mention of pregnancy, probably typos.

Words: 2900

Part 2: Come Back Together Benny Cross Masterlist 

“Benny, where are you going!” you cry, watching in disbelief as he turns away from you and exits your shared bedroom. “Benny!”

He doesn’t stop at your call. Doesn’t even flinch. Your voice is a pathetic grasp around his wrist that he shakes off like a pesky mosquito. He’s leaving, you realize, and when your body finally catches up with that understanding, you rush after him. 

His strides are long, double the length of yours, and he’s already got his jacket off the hook and is pulling it over his shoulders by the time you’re able to close in on him.

“Benny, don’t go!” you wail in a desperate plea, but it’s still useless, and a moment later you’re chasing him out the front door into the rain. “Please!”

You’re both drenched in an instant, hair stuck to your heads like a pair of drowned alley cats. Your nipples pebble through your thin, white nightgown that now shows every curve of your figure. The denim on his body deepens a few shades of blue from absorbing every drop of the downpour. 

“Benny!” you try once more. 

He doesn’t so much as glance over his shoulder as he crosses the street toward his bike, so you stop your chase before your bare feet leave the last step of your front porch. All you can do is watch. Watch his long leg swing over the seat of the bike. Watch him kick the beast to life. Watch how he glows angelic-like under the intense ray of the streetlight; a spotlight on the man you love who is running away from you. 

You don’t bother calling for him again. Your voice would only be muffled by the relentless drumming of heavy rain on pavement. Benny leans forward, and without checking for other vehicles, pulls into the street and drives until the darkness of night claims every speck of light from his bike. 

He’s gone. 

And you’re alone. 

—

You hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed by the news—it’s why you waited nearly three weeks to tell him—but you didn’t foresee such anger over the actuality of being a father. When you told him you were pregnant, his face had darkened in a manner you’ve only witnessed right before his fist meets the jaw of a rival biker. And, in some respect, he'd treated you the same. Like you were a pest, a nuisance, an object put in his path solely for the sake of pissing him off; the difference being that Benny would never lay a hand on you. So instead, he'd left.

On day three of your husband’s absence, Johnny had stopped by to ‘see if the kid was still alive,’ and you were left with the burden and embarrassment of telling him that Benny had skipped town. Johnny had asked why, of course, so you told him, and by the way his features twisted from surprise to desolation, you knew he also saw little hope in your husband returning to you. 

Benny has had his reasons for not wanting to be a father, failure a prominent knot in the back of his mind, but it’s not as if you planned this. It was an accident. An accident that you can’t just wish away because he doesn’t know how to handle being what you and this baby need him to be. 

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” Johnny had said. You’d done your best to hold in the tears while long beats of melancholy silence passed between you. “Listen, you ever need anythin’, you know Betty and me, we love ya, so…”

You’d nodded, wrapping your arms around your middle to stave off a sudden chill. “Thanks, Johnny.” 

He nodded as well, then he'd sighed and glanced around your quiet street as if expecting to see Benny ride up any second. “Well,” he said once it was clear neither of you would be finding that relief, “don’t be a stranger.”

He’d left after that and you haven’t seen him since. Not because you don’t appreciate him, but because he reminds you too much of Benny. Betty had called a few times—she’s as much a mother figure to you as Johnny was to Benny—but you weren’t very forthcoming with enthusiasm at talking baby plans and motherhood. At one point, in an effort to lift your spirits, she’d even mentioned throwing a shower, which immediately made you drop the phone and rush to the bathroom to lose your breakfast. 

When you’d returned, the phone was dangling by the coiled cord, Betty’s concerned voice coming through the speaker. You’d put it up to your ear, told her you'd call her back, and hung up the damn thing. You didn’t call her back. You think she got the message. 

In the weeks that have passed, many of the guys have come by to check on you, and in the beginning, you were somewhat receptive, but it was solely to abstain from hurting feelings and severing ties so harshly. You’re positive the relationships won’t last. You were in the biker lifestyle because of Benny. He brought you into a pre-established family unit, and without him, you don’t belong. 

You know the day may come when you regret letting the club go. Its members are the only people who have reached out their hands to you, but for now, you’re too numb to care, and with that numbness comes self-destruction. And with your particular brand of self-destruction comes isolation. Solitude. Loneliness. You’ve put yourself in place to navigate the future alone. Finding a job to support your child, hoping you’ll make enough so you don’t lose your house—that’s your priority now, and you have no choice but to step up and figure it out. 

—

As it turns out, no one wants to hire a pregnant woman. Well, no one you’ve contacted wants to hire a pregnant woman, but you’re willing to bet they’re a decent indicator of most companies' future rejection. 

It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t be telling them of your condition, but your bones are built of honesty and when they ask if you’ll be able to work long-term, you don’t hesitate to reveal the truth. In fact, the truth is out of your mouth before the thought to lie slithers into your head. 

You’re going to have to toughen up, be someone you’re not used to being, if you intend to survive. And that’s all you let yourself think about anymore. When Benny slips into your thoughts, you work tirelessly to shove him aside. It’s taken practice, self-discipline, but you’ve made some progress. Just yesterday you were finally able to overcome your urge to run to the window at hearing the grumble of a motor passing by your house. 

The next goal is to bag up his clothes and stow them away in the attic, but you’ve yet to face his side of the closet without breaking down. And to make it all the more agonizing, the fabrics still smell like him. You could wash them five times over and it would do nothing to remove his scent.

Sometimes, at the peak of your pathetic impulses, you want to sneak inside and bury yourself amongst the cheap and tattered clothes. Turn them into a blanket. Forget everything. But you’ve managed to resist.

Baby steps, you internally repeat as you bring a spoonful of cereal to your lips. You like the sugary stuff now. The stuff that kids gobble down before school. Bad for an expectant mother, yes, but you’re not about to scold yourself for what little enjoyment you find in this life. 

Suddenly, a knock taps on the door. Your head shoots up and your heartbeat stutters at the sound, but you don’t move to answer it. These days, it’s rare you answer it at all. The guys know not to bother you, as do Betty and Gail and Kathy. If they see you’re home, they leave their tupperware-filled home-cooked meals at your doorstep, knowing you’ll grab them once they leave. Anyone else—salesmen or mailmen or whomever—always gives up after a few minutes. 

However, this knocking has yet to cease. It must be a salesman, you think with a groan, and he must not have gotten the memo from other neglected salesmen that you’re a house to avoid. You can’t afford the latest vacuum model, you don’t care to own a stack of encyclopedias, and for the love of god, if you have to tell one more well-dressed man that your missing-in-action biker husband is not in need of a new shaving brush you’re gonna start keeping Benny’s handgun on the entryway table. 

The tapping turns into full-fledged banging that shakes the house, and now you’re irritated, offended on the weathered structure’s behalf. Your chair scrapes across the floor as you stand sharply and round the corner into the hall. A curse is on your lips as you wrap your hand around the knob, twist, and pull, but it dies. More than dies, it’s sucked right out of your lungs along with your breath. 

You want to slap him, split his puffy lips and watch the blood run down his chin. You want to shove him back so he’ll fall down the stairs and land on his ass. You want to get your breath back because that curse is clawing for freedom and you desperately want to let it out. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

He looks like shit. Well, as much as Benny Cross can look like shit, which is quite unimpressive compared to other men, but at least he doesn’t look well-rested. There’s some satisfaction in that, limited as it may be. 

“Hi, baby,” he says. The low tone shudders your spine. If he’s happy to see you he doesn’t show it, but you know that even if he is, he wouldn’t dare smile after what he did. 

Your swallow is hard, painful, and as the ease with which he spoke those two words sinks in, every emotion you’ve felt since he vanished bubbles over the edge of your resolve.

“‘Hi, baby’?” you echo. “Are you serious? That’s the best you’ve got, you asshole?” Your hand smacks against his chest and the unexpectedness of it forces him to stumble back a foot. You follow his stumble, stepping out onto the porch. “It’s been six weeks, Benny!”

He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I know.”

“Six fucking weeks!” With your second smack, his fingers latch around your wrist, but he doesn’t push your hand away, he keeps it planted above his heart, refusing to let you go. 

Dipping his head, he stares directly into your eyes. The intensity momentarily stuns you. “I know,” he repeats.

“Oh, you know,” you say, trying to jerk out of his grasp. “You abandon your pregnant wife and you think knowing that you’ve done it means a damn thing to me? Fuck off!”

“No,” he calmly replies.

“Yes!” you bark.

“No.”

Tears begin to cloud your vision. He disappeared and broke your heart at the worst possible time and now that you don’t want him here, he refuses to leave. And how horrible, how fucking humiliating to have your husband dismiss your desires so flippantly. 

“I hate you!” you snap.

“I love you.”

“You left!”

“I panicked.” His free hand lands on your shoulder and slides up your neck to cup your cheek. “I panicked, baby,” he says softly.

That gentle tone pierces your skin against your will and seeps into your veins, spreading throughout your body a sedating sensation. Just enough of the drug to slow your violent pulse without knocking you out completely. And in the absence of such potent rage, sorrow takes over. 

Your bottom lip quivers. Salty drops create lines down your cheeks and drip off your chin onto the rotting floorboards beneath your feet. He was supposed to replace those. It was going to be a summer project but a month and a half has already been carved out of the season and the floorboards still bow under your weight.

“Why were you allowed to panic?” you whimper. “I didn’t get to panic, so how come you got to?”

He sighs, his calloused thumb stroking your cheek. He doesn’t have a response but you didn’t expect one, at least not one with any substance, so you continue. “You know what I’ve been doing while you were out panicking? Trying to find a job so I can afford this house and provide for our child the way a parent should. But no one’s been willing to hire me.”

Benny’s brow pinches and his grip on your hand tightens. Broad shoulders fall forward as if you've just placed a few hefty boulders upon them. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he breathes. “I’m sorry. I shoulda been protecting you from those kinds of worries. I shoulda been here.”

“Well, you weren't.”

“I'm gonna be,” he tells you, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe that you believe him. “I am.”

You wish you could trust his word. You wish it was that simple. You wish you were more forgiving, but a situation conflicting enough to require this level of forgiveness is not something you’ve dealt with before. You’ve experienced loss in your life, and you know it well—your father left and your mother disengaged from motherhood, but neither were so rude as to put you in a place to contemplate forgiveness for their betrayal. Neither came back to request it. 

“Will you wait here?” he asks, “and not lock me out when my back is turned? Please?”

You’re severely tempted to do just that because, frankly, he’s made you wait for him long enough. But for some reason, you don't. You cast your gaze aside, cross your arms, and after a couple of seconds, nod your head. 

In your peripherals, you detect his light smile. Then he turns, walks back to his bike, and wrestles a brown paper-wrapped package out of the pack attached to his seat.   

“What is this?” you ask as he returns to the porch and offers it to you. 

“If I was just going to tell you then why would I have wrapped it?”

You almost roll your eyes at the image of Benny taking the time to wrap anything for anyone, as normally he’d enlist someone else (you) to do it, but looking at it, it really is a poorly packaged mess. Wrinkled and ripped in one spot, with a lop-sided bow tied from the string that’s holding the parcel together. Definitely Benny-quality work for this sort of task.

As you tear through the wrapping, Benny collects your scraps, balling the shredded paper together and setting that ball down on the porch railing. The small blanket in your hands is made of bright green fabric with fringed trim, and when you unfold it, hanging it high to get a look at the full thing, you see a white duckling embroidered into one of the corners. 

You lower the blanket so you can meet Benny's eyes. “Why a duck?”

He sticks his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “They didn't have any with little Harley’s,” he teases.

To your great internal shame, you have to choke down a chuckle. His innocent joke instantly reminds you that he’s the one man who can make you laugh, the one who won you over because of his subtle wittiness and his less subtle charm. And now you fucking miss him, damn it. You’d convinced yourself you’d gotten over that, but even as he stands within touching distance, holding distance, kissing distance, you miss him.  

He clears his throat. “Um…if you don't like it I can–”

“No,” you stop him, shaking your head. “I don't particularly like you at the moment, but…” You exhale and give the gift another glance. “I like the blanket.”

Benny nods. His adam’s apple bobs harshly in his throat as you refold the blanket and clutch it to your chest. 

“You think you could like me again one day?” he asks. “You know, if I prove myself real well.”

Your eyes narrow as they flick up to his ocean blues. “Prove yourself as what?”

“A husband,” he says. “A father.”

A husband. A father. One of which he’s been good at in the past—prior to the disappearing act, of course—and one of which you used to believe he’d be good at in the future if that was where fate led you, which it has. But…you don't know. 

You have two options. That’s it. Yes or no. Can you risk it or not? It’s a lot to take in but the reality is, there’s a question you must answer before you can answer any others—did the bomb he threw at your lives shatter your heart to an unmendable state? 

You chew on your cheek, your jaw ticks, and then with a huff, you straighten your spine. 

“You can never do this again,” you declare firmly, poking your index finger into the center of his chest. “I mean it, Benny. If you do, we won't be here when you come back.”

The ropes of rigidness unravel from his body. “Baby, this is where I wanna be,” he says, stepping into your space once more. “I promise.”

You can feel your heartbeat jackrabbiting from his closeness now that your overwhelming emotions have somewhat subsided.

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you tell him.

Benny grins. “That's fair.”

---

maybe a part 2? Let me know :)

Updated Taglist (if you wanna join)

[oreo-creampie]

𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐝! 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy fluff, light angst, reader is giving birth, kento is worried about being a dad and supportive husband, you easily reassure him, twin baby girls, praise, kento is in awe of you as he should be, you're amazing, you breast feed the baby and kento bottle feeds the other baby

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: I love your works! Could you write kento fluff, him stressing out about becoming a dad for the first time and reader is just really chill about it all!! Please and thank you🙏🙏

Oreo: I’m sick with my period at the same damn time eating chicken noodle soup, my hubby has been spoiling me so much. Brought me some Christmas themed flowers, the cutest wreath that has the house smelling like pine. Then there was running me a warm bath, making my soup this man is the best. Giving that nanami energy, cause you know he would take such good care of you. I haven’t had to lift a finger, and nanami wouldn’t let you lift one either.

Your painful contractions, rushing to the hospital, and the epidural to ensure a painless birth. Tightly squeezing his hand, pushing out the first baby girl. It’s a blur that doesn't slow down till he hears the first beautiful cry.

Letting go of your hand long enough to cut the umbilical cord. Grasping your hand between his own, kissing the back. “You’re doing wonderful love, she’s healthy and adorable.” Kissing your cheek, weakly you smile momentarily. Gritting your jaw focusing on pushing out your second baby girl. You're sweaty and beautiful.

The second baby girl is louder, her cries quieting her minutes older sister. This time the nurse brings her close to you, offering you the back the handle. Kento gently guides your hand helping you cut the cord.

"After we clean them both of you can hold one of your beautiful little joys. So chonky, healthy with a powerful set of lungs already.” The doctor gently cleans and checks you over.

One of the nurses brings his eldest baby to him. “Congratulations on such healthy wonderful baby girls.” Gently cradling his eldest babygirl in his hands, swaddled in a soft blanket. Kento supports her hand and head with one hand. She’s so small yet chunky at the same time. Swaddled in a yellow blanket.

Her beautiful chunky face scrunched up in confusion that melts away at the sight of his face. More tears trickle down his face at the soft adoring warm love in his baby girl’s eyes. Lifting her small hand, he leads down helping her touch his cheek.

Kento’s eyes widen tears trickling down his face, dripping onto the girl he names “ He’s a dad to two amazing baby girls who he wants to give the world to along side his beautiful wife.

What if he fails to be a good father?

Grinning Docter Annie announces, “Wonderful there is no hemorrhaging, you’re bleeding normally. We will keep you overnight for observation and discharge you in the morning. When you need to go to the restroom press the call button for a nurse. You will need to eat soon and get plenty of rest.”

Two nurses on either side carefully lift you for the doctor to put a diaper on you. Laying you back down, raising the upper half of the bed for you to comfortably sit up.

You're the nurse lift your baby girl out of the bath, drying her off. “Can I try to calm her down?” Kento looks up at you in pure awe. You have always been an amazing woman. He’s lucky for you to be the mother of his children.

What if he fails to be a supportive husband?

The nurse softly smiles, “You should be able to skin-to-skin and settle her, maybe help her latch.” Lying your baby on your chest. Cradling her, resting her head on your chest. Her loud cries softening to whines.

Admiring your little girl with tired eyes and a soft smile. It's a different type of beautiful to see you cradling the delicate adorable life in your hands. It's wonderful sight like the one of other baby girl in his hands.

Warm, healthy, and finally here after nine months. Here to thrive, grow, and develop interests. Kento wants to be there for them, with you by his side, every step of the way.

Her whines quiet down when you help her latch. Letting her get mouthfuls of milk. Softly breathing, “Of course, our lil Hana is hungry after all that hard work.” Kento didn't think he could fall more in love with you until this moment.

"She will need to latch and get skin with mom soon but for now getting fed by dad and doing some bonding is good too." A nurse hands Kento a bottle of formula. "We will get the overnight room and some food ready for the mom ready." Remembering the various videos and books he nudges Himari's lips with the bottle.

It takes a moment for her to latch, once she does, she's taking large mouthfuls. Failing her hand in her attempt to grab Kento's. A feat she takes moments to accomplish. Her small warm hand on the back of his, the sleepy loving looking in her eyes. "Hana and Himari are perfect, thank you my love for working so hard bringing them into this world."

The nurse and doctor trickle out of the room, taking some of the equipment with them. Leaving Kento and You along with your newborns.

"My love I know that look in your eyes and tension in your jaw. We got each other, and I couldn't have a better man by my side to raise our babies and grow old with. You're going to be everything these girls need in a father and more, trust me darling." The confidence in your beautiful face, soothing voice and tired eyes easing the weight on his shoulders.

He takes a deep breath, shoving his worries aside. Reaffirming your comforting words, "We have each other, there isn't anything we can't do to give these girls a wonderful life, don't worry about me love relax and rest." Standing up, carefully leaning down making sure not to disturb Himari drinking, kiss you gently. "I'm so grateful to get the privilege to be your husband and father to these adorable girls."

Oreo creampie’s m.list

[gogogodzilla]

Helloo, i love how u write and this is my first time requesting so i hope u don't mind.

What abt reader giving harry head after a stressful day at quidditch? I imagine it like he whimpers and sorts.

Thank you!! <33

All to You || Harry Potter

harry james potter x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, facefucking, oral sex, gagging, both harry & reader are of age, slight dirty talk note: thank you for the request anon, and thank you everyone for 2k followers!!!!! <3 ✩ masterlist ✩

The roar of the crowd rivals the crack of thunder and the wind that howls throughout the quidditch stadium. Rain trickles down your forehead and you crane your head to catch a glance of your favorite scarlet uniform flying in slow, calculated circles high above the rest of the players. 

Tension crackles through the air as the match progresses, with each team trying desperately to get ahead. The bludgers seemed even more aggressive than usual, which, combined with the pounding rain and lower visibility, leads to some close calls that had your heart skipping a beat. 

There’s a shift in the air as Harry goes into a steep dive. The crowd erupts into cheers and gasps, and time seems to slow as he rapidly nears the ground. Milliseconds pass, and he reaches out a hand, ready to close around the golden snitch. You hardly have enough time to utter the first syllables of a warning before a bludger comes sailing through the air and into his side. You can’t tear your gaze away as he spins out of control, struggling to regain his balance. 

He reaches the ground hard, and you cringe as he rolls across the pitch. The Slytherin seeker seizes the opportunity and catches the snitch in their grasp. The other side of the stadium is a cacophony of cheers as silver and green banners sail through the air. A wave of dejection rolls across the Gryffindor section, and you sink into your seat. 

Slowly, the stadium clears as the Slytherin teams and their supporters celebrate their win. Mud squelches under your boots as you make your way across the pitch. Harry stands slightly away from the rest of his team, his broom clutched tightly in his hand. 

You call his name softly as you approach. He doesn’t look up as you take his hand in yours. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” he says after a moment. 

Your gaze softens as you look at him and lightly squeeze his hand. “Let’s get out of the rain,” you murmur, gently tugging him toward the locker rooms. 

As you enter, you wave your wand, drying your clothes as you walk toward his locker. It does little to ease the chill that seeps into your bones, and a shiver runs down your spine. Harry quickly pulls his uniform top over his head and digs around his locker for his clothes. The sight causes a different kind of shiver to course through you. 

You lean against the locker beside his, pressing your back against the cool metal. “Are you doing okay? That was some hit you took,” you question as your gaze drags down his abdomen. 

He glances in your direction, and a grin spreads across his features as he notices what’s drawn your attention. He raises a brow as your eyes meet his, and you purse your lips.

“Wanna make it feel better?” he teases as he pulls a sweater over his head. 

You step forward and wrap your hands around his waist, spinning him to face you. Your hands dip under his sweater and splay across his torso. He tenses under your touch, hissing softly as your fingers graze against his injured side. 

You look up at him through your eyelashes, and his breath shudders for a moment before he nods. Slowly, you use one hand to push up his sweater, taking in the blooming bruise against his ribcage. 

You sink to your knees and drag your lips across the exposed skin on his stomach. Your free hand wanders across his thigh as you trail kisses down his abdomen. You trace your tongue just above his hips, pressing sloppy kisses against the skin just above his waistband. 

You rest your cheek against his hip as your hands wander across the growing tent in his pants. Harry’s breath quickens as you pop the button on his pants and slowly, agonizingly tug his zipper down. 

You dip a hand into the waistband of his briefs and release his cock from its confines. You wrap your hand around his cock, giving it a few tentative strokes. You’re practically drooling at the sight, and Harry whimpers as you twist your wrist with each pass over his length. 

You look up at him as you bring your lips to his cock, pressing featherlight kisses along his shaft. You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the leaking head of his cock. Harry bites his lip, stifling a groan as he leans his head back. 

He reaches down and gently tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, guiding you as you begin bobbing your head. You steadily take more and more of him while your hand strokes what you can’t reach with your tongue. 

Harry moans and whimpers out honey sweet praises as you have him at your mercy. You rest your palms against the back of his thighs, beckoning him closer. He’s quick to indulge you as he matches the bobs of your head with a quick thrust of his hips. The head of his cock reaches the back of your throat and you gag around him. Harry pulls back just long enough for you to catch your breath before he’s urging his cock down your throat once more. 

It brings tears to your eyes, and Harry cups your face, wiping your cheek as he does. 

“Doing so good for me, love,” he praises, his voice breathy and strained. “So — fuck, so fucking good.” 

With a few quick thrusts of his hips, he’s cumming with a strangled groan. He releases his hold on you as his orgasm washes over him, and you bob your head around him, milking him for every last drop. 

Whimpers escape Harry as the feeling of your lips around him becomes too much for him to bear, and he gently tugs you off of him. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear before pulling you up and capturing your lips in a kiss. 

You pull away, “Feel better?” 

“Much better,” he replies, grinning. 

[natailiatulls07]

Could you please do the drivers reaction to driver reader bringing a boy to the race?

Formula one grid x female!driver!reader Male!OC x female!driver!reader

Summary - Being youngest on the grid meant that Y/n was heavily protected by many other drivers so when she gets a partner it's mixed emotions all around

Warning - Small anxiety

Reader drives for Mercedes

Part two

-

"Are you sure? I know that some of the fans can be a little crazy about my private life..." In the past few months, Y/n had started a relationship with a guy she matched with on tinder. Not many people knew of the relationship, only her family and her management team.

Although that would change today, it was the first race of the season and they had wanted to hard launch their relationship. Adam, her new partner, was a lawyer and had his own wealth behind him but he was really proud of Y/n and loved to support her.

He could tell how nervous she was, seeing how she kept fidgeting with her hair and teamwear. "Hey, it's okay. Plus if any thing happens and you have to take legal action, you have a great lawyer on your side" He would often use humour to calm down his f1 driver girlfriend, loved to bring even the smallest of smiles to her face.

Adam took hold her hand, stopping her from fidgeting so much and started to drag her to the paddock entrance where fans stood behind barriers waiting to catch a glimpse of a driver.

-

As they began to walk past the barriers, fans were shouting her name and some were asking questions about the man who held her hand. They both had proud and confident smiles painted on their faces, any anxiety seemingly disappeared.

"Y/n! Y/n! Is that your new partner?"

Nodding her head, Y/n stopped to sign some merch and greet some fans. "Yes, yeah he is. Meet Adam" Looking over her shoulder, she felt how Adam had his hands gently resting on her waist. They were both very big on pda.

Thankfully the fans had reacted well to the new face. Some softly threatening Adam not to hurt their favourite driver, which got a laugh out of Y/n and some fear out of Adam.

Soon they started toward the main entrance of the paddock, waving goodbye to the fans and individually scanning their passes. Yet as soon as Y/n set foot into the paddock, dread and anxiety plagued her mind once again.

Only now remembering that she'd have to introduce Adam to her fellow drivers, her adopted big brothers. If today weren't such an important day, she would've turned around and made her way home. Procrastinating the eventual doom.

As usual, the man still held her hand in his could sense her fear. And he knew exactly why. "Look I know I have never meet them and I know that they very protective of you but I'll try my best to earn their approval, I promise..." He coached her to take a deep breath but pulling her forward to continue the walk.

They were passing by the Ferrari hospitality area when we heard a loud shout before some softly running of feet. "Disculpe! Y/n!" A strong spanish accent mde itself known behind the new couple.

Whilst Y/n tensed, Adam turned around fully with a confident smile. "Hi you must be Carlos right? It's lovely to meet you" He started a positive conversation, only to be met with a glare and scowl from Carlos.

"Yes, that's me. And who are you?" The spanish driver snapped back, snatching Y/n's arm and pulling her away from her partner. "What do you want from Y/n?"

Taking her arm back out of his grasp, Y/n moved back to Adams side with a sign.

She knew that the other drivers would be just as protective and some even more than Carlos. "Carlos..." Her voiced broke through the awkward silence that he created. "This is my new partner, Adam. You can chill out..."

All shoulders relaxed as she explained, a small guilty smile replaced the scowl on Carlos' face. Reaching out his hand towards Adam as both an apologie and a better introduction.

After a small conversation between the three, Y/n realised that the couple had to continue down the paddock. Saying goodbye to Carlos, the two were walking down to her team garage once again but were quick stopped once again.

This time by her old teammate and the reigning champion the grid. "Y/n, um who's this?" Unlike Carlos, Max was more shy and cautious rather than forward and hostile. Something Adam was thankful of.

"Hi I'm Adam, I'm Y/ns partner. It's nice to meet you, also I promise to take good care of Y/n..." After his last interaction with Carlos, Adam tried even harder to prove himself. "Please, I promise I love her a lot and-"

Max raised his hand to stop the ramble from the younger man. He had a small smile on his face, slightly amused by his fear. "It's okay, I don't doubt it. I'm sure you'll prove yourself over the next couple of weeks..."

Giving Y/n a quick hug and Adam a pat on the shoulder, Max told them that he had an important meeting to attend and he'll see them around.

-

Finally they arrived at the Mercedes hospitality and when they first entered, Adam eyes turned to the other driver in the room. Lewis, he was sat at one the table along with some of his management team.

Much like Adam, Lewis immediately noticed their presence in the room and beckoned them over to him.

"Hi Lulu!" Y/n quicking moving to give her beloved teammate a hug before moving back to her partners side. "Lulu meet Adam, he's my partner and Adam meet Lulu, my teammate."

Unlike the other two drivers, Lewis had a reassuring smile on his face whilst getting up from his seat to give Adam strong handshake. "Well it's nice to meet you Adam, I assume you'll take good care of that crazy women right there. I wish you the best"

It was short and simple but it meant a lot to Adam. Immediately he felt approved by a legend in the sport and by someone who Y/n considered a father figure.

"Thank you, I'll take good care of her"

-

>Seb! -Seb!!! -SEB OMG I HAVE NEWS!!! >What?! >It's about Y/n!! >Well go on tell me!!!!! >She has a partner! -His name is Adam and tbh I can see them getting married!!! >THATS BOLD >IKR But it's true! -They're perfect for eachother!!! >I need to meet him first and approve him first before they can even think about engagements >Ofc ofc

-

[daddyricsdoll]

You know ✭ Max Verstappen

Summary: Max got his 3rd world title and he had an idea on how to celebrate.

Warnings: Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral (f and M receiving), Squirting, Dacryphilia, reader is virgin and there is an age gap, but not specified. Oh, and a little overstimulation.

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Based off of this request. Sorry it took a while! And never forget, you can always reblog.🤭

People’s screams fill my ears and colours cover my vision as Max drives his car on the pedestal that lays there for his 3rd consecutive world championship. My body gets squished in between employees from Red Bull and to my advantage I end up flush against the barrier separating us from Max.

He finally gets out of the car and runs toward the crowd waiting for him, he starts hugging the team, making his way closer and closer to me. Ultimately when he makes his way to me, our embrace lasts longer than others. “Max! I can’t believe it. You’re so amazing! I love you” I shouted to him, hoping he heard from under his helmet. I hear the outline of his voice, but I don’t catch the words, still I nod my head and then watch him go and hug the others. I stand by as he collects his trophy, then make my way to his driver's room.

I was a few metres away when I saw Max walk in the room, which resulted in me jogging to the door. “Max!” 

“Oh hey dear” He turns around and grasps me in his arms. 

“You did great, my 3 time world champion!” I give him a million dollar smile and place little pecks along his face. “We need to do something to celebrate!” I cheer.

“I have an idea” Max’s hands slide down my sides and rest on my hips. He looks down at me with dark eyes. “I-um what’s your idea?” 

“Oh come on Schat…” His hands slip around to my back and he pulls me closer, with a tight grip on my ass. “I think you know.” He rasps to me in an unrecognisable voice that makes my breathing hitch and a chill run through me.

A smirk appears on his face and I shift my gaze away from his eyes. His hands start caressing my ass and slowly making their way down, closer to the place he has never touched. I revert my eyes back to him when he unexpectedly doesn’t stop, and all he does is chuckle and continue. He pulls the back of my dress up and his fingers linger around my panties. “M-max”

“Yes?” His blue eyes stare into mine as his fingers slip beneath the fabric. “I don’t-”

“Spread your legs” And I obey his command, my legs shifting wider, and the sound of my shoes against the floor breaking the tranquility in the room. I feel his soft fingers glide between my folds, and a groan releases from his mouth. Max removes his fingers and grips the back of both of my thighs, hoisting me up to his body before walking forward and pushing my body against the wall.

He pulls the fabric of my dress up and he eagerly pulls my panties down, throwing them onto his massage table. His hands return back to the place they once occupied, he lifts one of my legs up and presses it against his waist. “Anyone fingered you against a wall?” He breathed into my ear and then thrust a finger into me. A long whine mixed with a moan escapes my mouth and I shake my head side to side. “Use your words”

“N-no”

“Then where did the pathetic man finger you? Just in bed? Did you only cum once-”

“Maaaxxx” I wail out his name as his fingers become more rough. “Go, tell me, and I’ll do it better more than three times.”

“I-no Max- Fuck! I-I haven’t been…” As my voice quiets the smirk on Max’s face becomes louder and he shoves another finger in me. His thumb starts circling my clit. “Oh so I’m the first one in your tight pussy.” he grits through his teeth. “I get to ruin my little virgin.” His fingers start curling inside of me and tears leave the corner of my eye.

My back arches against the wall, forcing my body into Max’s. A tight, strong feeling blooms in my stomach and I whine to Max, questioning him on this new experience. He chuckles and leans into me for a kiss, it was hard and quick, and it feels like the thing in my stomach explodes and my hands go to the back of Max’s head, pulling on his hair.

Seconds later Max breaks the kiss and I feel an emptiness when his fingers leave me. He takes a step back and stares at me, his fingers that were just inside me, now being savoured in his mouth. 

The brunette pulls his fingers out of his mouth and places both of his hands on either side of his hips. “My Schat, oh you look so good. Come here.” Only then do I realise my appearance, my hair everywhere and tears adorning my face.

My hands splayed out against the wall and chest heaving up and down in heavy motions. I take slow and small steps to Max and he starts unzipping his race suit, pulling it down to his knees. “Look at what you did to me, crying over my fingers.” I spot the bulge in his pants and I look back up at Max, still unsure of what he expects of me. “Oh come on Schat. Get on your knees.” 

“Max, I ca- I don’t-” 

“I’ll tell you, but first you need to get on your knees” I nod my head and make my way to the floor, when I’m fully on the ground I look up at him with doe eyes. “Pull down my pants” I nod again and do what he says.

His dick springs up in front of my face and my mouth nearly fall agape at his size. The feeling in my core ignites again, and then I look back up at Max. He nods at me and this time I have a clue of my next move. I grab him in my hand and my fingers barely touch as I feel his thick cock in my small hand.

“Spit on your hand and then move it up and down” I gather up saliva in my mouth and then aggressively spit on my hand and wrap it around his dick. I reenact the motions he had encouraged me to do and hear the light moans spill out of his mouth. “I-the tip” He stutters, and my thumb rubs over the tip of his dick. “Ahhh, yeah. That’s it Schat.” Max praises me and I carry on the work of my hands, my pace starts changing and I look at to Max for some more assurance.

“Use your mouth, tongue.” And then very slowly I inch my mouth toward him, my tongue licks his tip and then I start circling it. Max’s hand then entangles itself in my hair, and with force, but lightly he pushes my head down. He hits the back of my throat and a few tears pool in my eyes.

Max tilts my head up so he can look at me in the eyes an then pulls himself out and rams back in. Pressuring the tears in my eyes to finally fall and Max’s agape mouth turns into a wide smile. “That’s it.” He continues controlling the speed of my head and I get barely get used to his size, frequently gagging on him.

“I’m gonna cum” Max grits out of his teeth. His hand on the back of my head becomes rougher and adds to the speed of his hips moving toward me. And in seconds his comes shoots out and hits the back of my throat. Max pulls out and bends his head down to examine my mouth. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” He holds my chin and then nods to me as an indication that I can swallow. And after I do, he prys my mouth open and inspects it once again before giving me a quick “Good” and pulling me back up to my feet. Max grabs my body and pushes me onto the massage table. “You ready Schat?”

I nod my head nervously and he strides toward me with purpose. He lifts me up a bit and pulls my dress over my head. And I sit infront of him, basically naked, a pair of thin lace bra covering my pebbled nipples. “Take it off Schat.” He demands me, and I take it off, fully exposed to him.

Max doesn’t say anything and harshly spreads my legs. I let out a nervous whine and my eyes become damp. “Fuck” He stares at my core. “You’re so fucking wet, and oh” He looks up at my face, and his hands come to my cheeks. “Can you take me? Or is it too much?” I stutter on a reply, not having a clue to what I can handle at this moment.

As I don’t answer immediately Max pulls my legs and my whole back lays on the massage bed. I let out a squeak and he lifts my legs so my feet point to the ceiling. And as his hands grasp my legs he pushes into me in one powerful thrust.

He whispers out a few curses and then he starts moving in me. Immediately hitting the right spot and going balls deep. My hard pants tribute to the slaps of our skin. Max places one of my legs over his shoulder and he somehow reaches places I never thought were possible. He starts ramming into my sweet spot and two tears leave the corner of my eyes.

The knot in my stomach becomes more vigorous than last time and every miniscule movement Max makes, emits a sound from me. I look at his face, full of emotions I hadn’t seen him wear before. His brows furrowed and mouth lightly parted, small droplets of sweat embelllish his beautiful face. I admire him, his features and oh the way he feels in me right now. I start fluttering around his dick and I finally release with a deep wail. Max makes unpatterned thrusts and then he pulls out. His cum shoots out and bedecks my torso. “Fuck Schat, I had to hold back, but next time…” 

He steadily lowers my legs, but still keeps them wide open. The brunette kneels down and comes in eye contact with my pussy, I sit up to watch him as his tongue licks up my cum, like a man deprived from food and that’s a feast. I start writhing my body as I know this time, I can’t take more.

“Oh come on Schat” Max’s hands firmly hold my thighs down and he delves his tongue into me again. He flattens his tongue out on my clit and then goes at it again. The very faint prickles of his shaven beard scratching the insides of my thigh and adding more effect to the work of his mouth.

I beg Max to slow down, even stop but it only makes him go more feral and then my hand goes to his head and pulls on the few strands I can grasp. He starts flicking his tongue over my clit and the sensation intensifies my release. I glance down with moist eyes and watch as I squirt onto him.

I gasp in embarrassment and Max grins. He stands up and pulls my body up into a sitting position. “My beautiful princess, fucking squirted on your first time.” His hands rest on either side of my body and our foreheads lean on the other. “Let’s get you cleaned up” He murmurs on my lips and then pushes away and leaves into the bathroom merely metres away.

He walks back in with the same confidence and used a damp cloth to clean me, he wipes his cum off my chest and licks my nipples before moving down and wiping my core and legs. “Wait till I get my fourth world championship, you’re gonna squirt 4 times.”

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr. 

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe. 

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. 

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease. 

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly. 

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times. 

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside. 

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft. 

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ. 

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud. 

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex. 

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

[noemilivv]

Hand Holding Headcanons

— Hazbin Cast Edition !

Including: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor, Sir Pentious, Husk, Vox

Warnings: Not proofread

Charlie Morningstar

Charlie’s hands are very soft, and her touch is very light, she doesn’t grasp your hand very roughly or anything.

She swings your hands together like a little excited child as you both walk together.

Loves your hands. Definitely plays with your fingers

Vaggie

A bit basic when it comes to holding hands with her, but still good nonetheless.

Fingers intertwined, she definitely rubs her thumb across your knuckles, and she also will look down at your hands and just blush — especially if the relationship is a newer one

Sometimes even if you guys aren’t holding hands and you’re doing something, she’ll just caress them as you do whatever it is your doing

Angel Dust

Despite all the hype about his spidery fluff, it’s actually quite itchy, so if you guys hold hands he will wear his gloves

Honestly, Angel, like Charlie, also has a very soft grip on your hands, half the time he’s not even holding your hand, it’s just yours on top of his, tbh I think he likes the feeling of being held by you more than anything

He’s a mix of Vaggie and Charlie, he does the thumb thing, but he also plays with your fingers, but it’s pretty mood based

Alastor

Honestly, isn’t one to hold hands, he’s more of the kinda guy to link arms, or even hold pinkies

He’ll let you hold his hand though, but he might not do much extra

I can see him doing the thumb this every once in awhile, but you’re more likely to play with his fingers or hands than he is

Sir Pentious

He loves holding your hand! Honestly, Pentious is a big physical affection guy, so whenever you initiate it he’s through the roofs and higher!

But… You both don’t hold hands very often. He’s a very cold animal, so he doesn’t hold your hand often in fear of taking away any of your body heat

When you guys do, he’s so happy! His cold, little claws will run down the back of your hand, and he’ll just look at like with all this love and adoration and ughh 😫😫

Husker

His fur on his hands can very easily warm you up quickly haha

Honestly, hand holding is one of the few forms of PDA he’s actually chill with, and honestly as simple as it is, he loves it — it’s so casual and so intimate and he’s a sucker for it

Not much to say other than he’s very careful (like Pentious) when it comes to claws

Vox

Vox holds your hand very loosely, he’s almost always texting someone about business offers, so his hand needs to be prepared to start texting someone, but he’ll always slide it back into yours once done

He also does the thumb thing, and if you play with his fingers he will start glitching, no discussion needed there XD

Honestly, Vox is a fair mix of everyone, but also has a little splash of well… him XD

[shu-porang-porang]

First Love / Late Spring

Your first time with Minho (I wrote the whole thing just to picture that last paragraph!)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Theme: fluff, explicit

Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), fluffff, not proofread, 18+ NO MINORS

Word count: 2 k

It’s only your fourth date and you’re nervous around him. He’s not exactly easy to approach, he’s guards are up, he talks politely as if you’re a coworker, and he doesn’t initiate nor seem comfortable with any type of intimacy. If he hadn’t asked for another date, you would’ve thought he wants to have nothing to do with you. But the fact that he wanted to see you again assures you that he’s interested and is doing his best, so you decide to be more understanding and give him time to open up. That’s how you ended up having a movie date with him at your place. You realized he tends to stiffen up way more when in public, probably he’s afraid of rumors and whatnot, so you offered to just stay in, order some takeouts and watch a movie, which he gleefully accepted.  

It's indeed a chill date. Although you’re both kinda awkward, you manage to ignore the awkwardness and enjoy your meal and the movie. Not much is said during the movie, just a few comments on the characters and hard-to-grasp story line, yet these few exchanges reveal more of his true personality and make you wanna kiss his beautiful brain.

You started the movie sitting apart, neither of you confident enough to invite the other for hugs and cuddles, but towards the end, you summoned all the courage in you to reach for his hand, place it in your lap and mindlessly play with it. You see the tiniest smile in the corner of your eye that encourages you to keep going. Oh how bad you wanna bring it to your lips and kiss those gorgeous veins but you control yourself. You have no idea how the movie ended; you were too lost in holding his hand to follow the rest of the story.

He untangles his fingers from yours to fish for his phone in his pocket and checks the time.

“Oh it’s quite late, I better get going.”

Really? Was that it? Has he never heard of Netflix and Chill? Was he really here to just watch a stupid movie? You try your best to hide the disappointment but your expressions always give you away easily, you’re not the type to act. You try to think of sth to convince him to stay for a bit more, but there’s really no excuse that wouldn’t make you seem so desperate. Now that your brain cogs are running fast you realize the constant tapping of the rain that your ears had tuned out, so you give it a shot.

“You didn’t drive your car here, right? And I think it’s quite a heavy shower from the sound of it, you can stay till it’s over?”

“It’s alright, I can just get a cab or sth…” he says but he doesn’t seem so persistent. Maybe it’s just your desperation fooling you, but you sense he might not hate the idea of staying a bit longer.

“Anyways, I don’t mind, you can stay. I’ll prepare some tea!” You mentally face palm! TEA? Is that the best you could do to convince him to stay?

“Tea sounds perfect!” Turns out that was good enough!!

“Alright then!” You say a bit too excited, then get up to hurry with making the tea coz you don’t know how long the unpredictable spring shower is gonna last. 

To your surprise, your little tea party gives way to talking about everything and nothing for hours, the rain long forgotten. It’s like in a night, you got 10 years’ worth of information about him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you put a spell on him with that tea! He opened up to you more than he’d like to admit, so did you. You’re both private people but something just clicked tonight. You feel much closer to him now and hope he feels the same.

When you both finally fall silent and seem to have run out of stories for the night, you bring your hand up to his cheek, caressing it gently with your thumb. “Let’s go to bed, you had a busy day, need to get some rest.”

He leans in to your touch, holding your hand and turning his head to kiss your palm. “If we go to bed, resting is the last thing I wanna do.” It brings a shy smile to your lips, he’s suddenly bold and it makes your heart flutter. You get up and lead the way to your bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, his hand cups your face to bring it close for the sweetest kiss. His lips lock on yours and he takes a deep breath inhaling your scent before kissing you. He slowly pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He lays you down on it gently, never disconnecting his lips. Each kiss is planted with utmost care, as if you’d break under his touch if he’s not careful. It’s sweet and at the same time annoying. You want him to devour you, to act bolder, to do what he really wants to do. You pull the hair at his nape and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Thankfully, he gets the hint and his kisses get sloppier and more aggressive as he enters his tongue in your mouth. His hand roams over your clothed body, yanking at the fabric of your dress, you’re too distracted by his tongue and teeth assaulting your mouth that you don’t realize he wants it gone.

He breaks the kiss to ask: “Can I take it off?” to which you manage to answer: “Yes please” while panting.

He helps you out of your dress, lying there in your lacy underwear you feel exposed under his intense gaze, his eyes darker than usual and hooded with lust. The blush that creeps up to your cheeks is visible even in the dim lights of the room. After taking in the sight of your somewhat naked body for a few long seconds, he lowers his body back onto yours while removing his shirt. He kisses a trail from the column of your neck down to your chest. He reaches a hand back to unclasp your bra and you shuffle out of it, giving him access to your soft breasts. He covers them in playful kisses before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth sucking gently which draws a yelp from you and your hips jerk into his involuntarily. Your reaction encourages him to suck harder and his fingers take care of the other nipple, twisting and pinching the sensitive nub to demolition. He’s quite satisfied with your little whimpers here and there; he hums in approval which reverberates through your entire body.

You open your legs wider to fit him in between. As he adjusts himself between your thighs, he slides down, leaving butterfly kisses on his way to your panties. His face is only millimeters away from your throbbing core, he can feel the heat radiating from it. He looks up at you, silently asking if he can proceed. You hastily nod, how could you say no to those gorgeous feline eyes? He flashes you a little smirk before dipping his nose to your covered core and taking a whiff with his eyes closed, as if he’s taking in the scent of a flower bouquet. You’re embarrassed and turned on at the same time. Finally, he removes your panties and discards it somewhere on the floor, and without hesitation darts his tongue out to lick a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. You feel your orgasm building up as he keeps alternating between lapping at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair gets tighter and your thighs close around his head. To bring you to completion, he inserts two fingers in so he can dedicate his mouth to your clit. Soon after you cum moaning his name, like how you imagined you would. He helps you ride your orgasm and kisses your inner thighs as you’re coming down from it, trying to catch your breath.

He crawls up and moves the strands of hair away from your face so he can kiss you and give you a taste of yourself. “You taste so good; you should try it.” he says before closing his lips on yours and shoving his tongue in, you suck on it, tasting the remnants of your arousal.

“Do you think you can keep going?” he whispers against your lips.

“I sure can.” you reply, closing the gap to kiss his swollen lips again.

He sits back up and you watch him with anticipation. You felt his bulge multiple times tonight, but still have no idea what’s coming for you. He’s fast to unbuckle his belt and rid himself of his pants and boxers. His erection, hard and proud, slaps against his stomach. You certainly did not expect this. It scares you a bit, even though he worked you up well you’re afraid you might need more preparation to fit it in. His hand wraps around it pumping a few times and smearing precum on the tip before hovering back over you, he slides it between your folds to cover it in your juices. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer for a kiss, no matter what, you can’t get enough of those soft lips. You feel his tip poking your entrance and your mouth falls slack once it finally enters you. Your grip around him tightens and breath is knocked out of your lungs as the stretch overwhelms you.

“Are you okay baby? should we stop?” he asks once he notices how tensed you got.

“No… just… a second” you don’t want it to end there, you want him, all of him.

He peppers kisses all over your face while waiting for you to adjust, telling you how perfect you are and how well you’re doing in between the kisses. It melts your heart how gentle he is. You ask him to move and he sinks a bit deeper, and deeper, and deeper until there’s no more room for him to go, yet he manages to rearrange your insides and bottoms out. He stays still for a while, brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, enjoying the warm hug of your velvety walls around him, then he starts with slow thrusts, testing the waters. Soon the room is filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping and moans. He shakes the bed with each thrust, you hold onto him for dear life, years of dance practice and workout have given him unmatched strength, his precision is remarkable as well. You’re about to fall apart for the second time tonight.

“Min…. cumming..”

“Cum for me…. Don’t forget to… say my name…”

And you do so as your walls flutter and cream around his cock. He keeps pounding into you chasing his own release, your insides are on fire. Finally, the forceful thrusts turn into ruts, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he comes. He bullies his cock into you milking it dry while riding his high, and you hear your name in between the groans leaving his agape mouth. He pulls out and drops next to you. you feel your mixed juices gushing out, soaking the sheets.

He props up on his elbow, his other hand caressing your cheek. “I hope I wasn’t too harsh. You did so well baby.” he says and then leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No, it was great… thank you.” you cup his face and give him a sweet lingering kiss.

You need to get up and clean up, but something about this moment is so pure you don’t wanna disturb it. So, instead, you hug his head, pressing it to your chest. He wraps his arms around you and snuggles closer, leaving no gap between the two of you. You grab a blanket you can reach and cover your sticky bodies.

 You watch the sky grow lighter as your fingers play with his soft locks. Your slightly ajar window lets in the scent of rain mixed with something flowery, it’s jasmine you decide. Birds are chirping but his steady breathing is a far better melody to your ears. The cool breeze and his warmth are the perfect combination that eventually put you to sleep.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Wintery

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!vigilante!reader

Summary: Gotham winters are brutal, but your best friend Jason Todd and work friend Red Hood know how to combat the cold. Unfortunately, you're falling in love with both of them.

Warnings: reader and Jason don't know the other is a vigilante, fluff, brotherly teasing, kissing, more fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I have no idea where this idea came from but it wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it. I hope it's okay and feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

Picture from Pinterest

Gotham winters are cold, windy, and relentless. There are few places to find refuge from the harsh bite of the chilling wind and fewer remedies to the wind-burned skin and seemingly permanent chapped lips.

Jason Todd, however, is a Gotham boy, born and raised, so he knows the importance of staying moisturized and protected in the winter. So, it's no surprise that he keeps lip balm in his pocket all winter.

No, it isn’t intimidating to see Red Hood putting Chapstick on, but having cracked lips is far more frightening. He finds quiet alleys, tipping his helmet up to combat dry lips before returning to his vigilante duties. Nightwing has only caught him once, and Jason is intent on never experiencing that level of brotherly torture (teasing) again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Since joining the small group of vigilantes, Red Hood has captured and kept your attention. Never saying more than a few words to you, he always seems nearby and eager to help you out of trouble, but you can’t get past that point.

Nightwing and Robin occasionally tell you their ideas to get him to open up to you, convinced there’s something between you, but you brush it off and admire the man in red from a distance.

The night wind is blowing hard enough you’re uncomfortable standing on such a high roof. You tuck yourself behind anything stationary, including Red Hood. 

Under the hood, Jason smiles to himself. He knows why you’re standing close to him, your concern for the wind mixing with an irrational idea that he will allow anything to happen to you. But, if you want to use him to block the wind from your pretty face, he’s happy to stay perfectly still. However, his gaze keeps dropping to your lips.

Jason watches you; he has been since you first stumbled upon them in a less than satisfactory suit. You were bleeding from a run-in with several muggers but smiling through your pain because you managed to make someone feel safe in Gotham; a rare feat unless you’re Batman. Instantly drawn to you, Red Hood has let himself get close enough to consider you a friend but not close enough to talk to you or worry incessantly about where you are through the day.

You say something, and Jason shakes his head to escape his memories of you, focusing on you and your dry-lipped smile. The winds are blowing up the building and into your face even as he blocks the worst of it, and your rosy cheeks amplify Jason’s growing concern. He wants to offer his jacket to you, even his chapstick – an unwelcome idea of kissing you to share it enters his mind, but he shoves it away. Or tries to; the imagined feeling of your lips on his is hard to shake.

After your question goes unanswered the second time, you wonder if Red Hood fell asleep under the helmet. He jerks sideways when you slide your hand into his pocket. His grip falls away from the holster on his thigh when he realizes it’s just you. (Though he’d never think 'just you' about anything.) You pull your hand out of the worn leather jacket, a small white tube in your grasp. Keeping your eyes on the small eye slits of the mask, you uncap the balm and put it directly on your lips.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling as you place it back in his pocket before turning away.

Anyone else, and he’d throw it away, unwilling to share such a personal item, but since he just thought about sharing it in a much different way, he doesn’t mind the idea of you doing it again. He’ll have to remember which pocket he put it in and leave it there for you, he decides.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s freezing,” you groan, rubbing your arms as you walk inside the warm apartment. “Why can’t we move to Metropolis?”

Jason laughs at you, his best friend. Since he developed what Dick refuses to call anything but “a crush” on his vigilante partner, he’s wondered what this thing with you is. You are his friend, of course, but there is something more there. Jason has never been good with feelings, and he’s in a strange spot between two women who affect him, similar yet completely different in how he responds.

“Because we can’t afford it,” Jason hums, welcoming you onto the couch beside him.

You slide your cold feet under his sweatpants-clad legs, sighing when he lays his arm over your shoulders.

“We who, Mr. Trust Fund Wayne?” you tease, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Thanks for inviting me over, though, even if I did get frostbite on the way.”

Jason chuckles, stopping short when he remembers something someone else said after fighting Mr. Freeze during a riot at Arkham. Shaking his head, he determines that he has a type.

“I’m stealing this,” you interrupt his reading, pulling a hoodie from the back of his couch.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, watching you pull it over your head. You feel warmer beside him after a few minutes, and when you dig a small tub of lip balm out of your pocket, Jason wonders if he should move to Metropolis.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where did it go?” Jason says to himself, barely audible through the voice modifier of the mask.

“Whatcha looking for?” you ask, dropping to the fire escape beside Red Hood. He doesn’t answer, but when you realize all his attention is focused on one pocket, you know. “Really? I need it again, too,” you lament.

Red Hood sighs, turning toward you. Your lips still look fine, with no sign of chapping in sight. Deciding he needs it more than you do, Jason seizes the opportunity.

Pushing his helmet up, he grabs your face between his warm, gloved hands. Pulling you against him, Jason presses his lips to yours, moving with you as the moisturizing gloss spreads across his lips.

“Better?” he asks, smirking before his face is hidden behind his helmet again.

Your face is still in his hands as you nod. “Nightwing took it,” you whisper.

Jason rolls his eyes and leans forward, whispering, “Who needs it when I have you?”

“You do,” you reply, dumbfounded and breathless from the kiss you’ve admittedly been daydreaming about. “I got mine from you.”

Red Hood laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. You think for a moment you’ve heard that laugh before, but then the idea disappears.

✯✯✯✯✯

The next day, you beat Jason back to his apartment after leaving the manor. Letting yourself in, you walk to his bookshelf to see if he’s gotten any new books. A leather jacket is lying on the floor beside the shelf, and when you pick it up, something falls out of the pocket.

“Hey,” Jason greets, closing the door behind him.

Turning, you hold the chapstick up, looking at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

“Yeah?”

He comes to your side, his brows pinched. 

“Are you-“

You drop everything in your hands before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. As you kiss him, everything clicks into place.

Falling in love with Jason and Red Hood simultaneously wasn’t some cruel trick of fate or a mistake… you’d been with the same guy all along.

Pulling back, Jason takes a moment before opening his eyes. He blinks at you several times, trying to speak and failing.

“Really?” you ask, tilting your head. “I see that made a much bigger impact on me than it did on you.”

Jason still can’t answer, his mind going over each similarity that he should have caught on to, each mirrored movement or similar response. Your kiss, though… your kiss is unmistakable. He believed his lies about the touches and the words, but nothing can compete with your affection.

“Thank you,” Jason whispers, pulling you close again.

“For what?” you ask, brushing your fingers through the white streak in his hair. “It took me way too long to realize.”

“For everything,” he answers before kissing you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your first patrol after learning not just Red Hood but everyone’s true identities is interesting. Bringing your own protection against the current blizzard, you're grateful for the foresight after you get separated from Jason.

Waiting near Arkham and shivering in the cold, you don’t hear the crunch of boots on snow until Red Hood grabs your waist and spins you around. Without his helmet, only a domino mask to protect his identity (pointless in the dark storm), he doesn’t wait before pressing his lips to yours, eager to try a new flavor and get more of you. After waiting so long and being tortured by his tragic decision to love two women at once, Jason deserves to show you how much he cares for you twice as often as he wishes. And if you start buying crazy lip balm flavors to mess with him, he’ll love you even more for it.

[totalswag]

run for the hills — RAFE CAMERON

authors note super sorry for going ghost for moment. this fic is based on Tate McRae run for the hills. first time i listened to the song i got inspo to write a rafe fic. i really tried my best to write scenarios based off the lyrics

summary being in a toxic relationship with rafe cameron where he pulls the strings and the entire time it’s messing with you.

warning(s) toxic relationship, fighting, kissing, touching, manipulative, mentions of sex.

Getting yourself involved with Rafe Cameron should’ve never happened in the first place. There’s something about him that keeps you coming right back to him. It's toxic and emotional.

He was well aware of his effect on you, and he took full use of it. He'd be all over you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making you believe he felt the same way you did. The next moment, he'd be cold and aloof, pushing you away as if you were only a passing fancy.

Rafe's a drug and you're addicted.

Stumbling upon each other at Topper Thornton’s party— staring at each other from across the room during the night. Your girlfriends warned you to be careful— you should’ve listened. Rafe and you made out on the couch in the crowded house not caring if people saw.

Kissing, straight back to war.

I’m walking out until I lock the door.

Maybe the dangers covered by the thrill.

‘Cause I know should be running for the hills.

Rafe and you were in the middle of an argument over nonsense. You sat on the edge of his bed, listening to him ramble on about a guy talking to you at the country club.

"No guy should be touching or talking to you only me, you got it?" He asks, pointing at you, "Seems like you don't because you let them talk to you." He huffs, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Rafe, do you hear yourself now?" You sound absolutely fucking crazy talking to me like this," you said firmly, throwing your hands in the air and looking at him with alarm.

He looks at you, his mouth forming a thin line, tilting his head to the side before carefully walking over. By his body language he's frustrated and trying to keep himself calm.

"You can talk to girls and I give you shit for it, you call me crazy but when a guy talks to me there's a problem? Make that make sense, Rafe.” Your tone raises with anger as you run your hands down your thighs before getting off the bed.

"We aren't talking about me, Y/N," he says pointing to himself in disbelief hearing your response while rolling his eyes.

You scoff.

You knew this wasn't going away at this point. You reach for your keys and jacket on his dresser, "I'm just gonna leave and let you think about how you're acting because I'm done."

Rafe stands there puzzled. He reaches for your hand as you move past him with your belongings. You glance up into his eyes, trying to figure out what's on his mind.

"Can I at least get a kiss?" He asks.

Simply nod, stand on your tiptoes, and walk out the door. You should go away from him, but you'll come back. He knows you'll come back.

The way you touch me.

Straight to the heart, yeah it cuts me.

'Cause I know deep down that it's.

Never gonna be us, oh.

Never gonna ever be more than something that's fucking me up.

The way he touches you sends chills down your spine. He knows where to touch you to make you weak in his grasp. Only he can make you feel things no guy ever has.

“Your body loves it when I touch you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is low with a teasing tone that gets you riled up. Rafe’s hands run themselves down your waist repeatedly till he’s ready to give you what you want.

“Mmm yes” you giggle ending with a moan when both his hands squeeze your ass then smacking.

He smirks.

Smooth with his movements— dipping his head down, kissing your lower tummy over your underwear line that makes your toes curl. Grabbing the sides of your hips by your underwear before pulling them down leaving you bare.

Deep down you know it won't be more between Rafe and you. It keeps fucking you up but you can't leave him somehow.

Don't tease me.

Keep me around like it's easy.

When you know deep down that it's.

He acts lovey dovey towards you then next day he acts cold. He pulls the strings and you’re the puppet. He’s playing a game with you— enjoys it. Kept you going back for more even when you should have gone away. And each time he did, it played with your mind a little more, blurring the lines between what you desired and what you knew was proper.

Hot and cold.

Rafe keeps you around because he needs something from you. Sure, he'll give you what you want, but usually only on his terms. Rafe is taking advantage of you, and you don't realize it.

I know when it's all done.

I'll hate you in the long run.

But, somehow it never ends.

You should loathe him. You understood it deep down: this nasty game he played. He'd drew you in, whisper sweet nothings that made your pulse race, only to vanish, leaving you alone in a sea of doubt. However, when he was close, all you could think about was how much you desired his attention.

There was a party tonight down the street by your house. A good amount of people came making the house crowded.

You looked around the room, searching for Rafe. Deep down you shouldn't be looking for him. Your eyes locked across the room-- there he was leaning against the wall in all black with a drink in his hand.

He rose from the wall and walked towards you. Your girlfriends point out where they will be while you two talk.

He approached you, bending close, his breath warm against your ear. "You look like you're having a good time," he said, his voice oozing with charm. But there was also darkness, which only you appeared to perceive.

You swallowed hard, attempting to keep your voice steady. "I was wondering when you'd finally come over," you said, your tone more confident than you felt.

Rafe chuckled and reached out to wipe a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was soft, but it sent thrills down your spine. "Did you miss me?" he teased, but the way his eyes darkened revealed there was something genuine underlying the joking.

"Maybe," you muttered, hating yourself for packing so much truth into that single word.

Stop doing that, Y/N.

He tilted his head and studied you, as if calculating his options. You wanted to reach out and bring him near, but you knew better. Rafe was in charge, and he enjoyed the game far too much to allow you to win.

I get obsessive with you.

All I want is attention from you.

Break into my life and break my rules, it's true.

He has not texted you in all day. He texted you last night before you went to bed, and you haven't heard back from him. You desire his attention. From him, and only him.

"This is so toxic, what I am doing?" You tell yourself this as you stare at your screen, anticipating to call Rafe.

Once again, he's pulling the strings and allowing you to do anything he wants without doing anything himself.

Will this never-ending cycle end? Will you ever have the strength to leave Rafe without returning? Because no matter how badly you try to flee and escape, something about Rafe Cameron will always draw you back.

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Two

A quick write 😌

Think, think, think, she told herself.

Why would she have had sex with Erik Stevens, and why would he be sniffing her panties in his sleep?

As she tried to recreate yesterday, she ticked off the things she did remember:

One - She'd attended her best friend’s wedding, dateless and dressed in costume as a blossoming fuchsia peony (which was probably correlated somehow, she just couldn't think that hard about it at the moment to follow that logic chain).

Two - She'd run into her ex-boyfriend, who'd been invited as a guest by the groom to the wedding and who had been behaving as his usual self towards her, cutting jibes her way all night.

Three - She'd consumed a few shots of tequila to help deal with her annoying ex’s incessant harassment.

Four - Erik had swooped down out of nowhere to come to her rescue, pretending to be her date for the event. He'd shared her drink with her and then whisked her off to the dance floor to help her get away from her ex, and then...then...

No way.

Grasping at the big blank spot in her memory, she wasn't sure whether to scream or cry at the irony: she'd had her first one-off of the year, and it had been with one of the most eligible bachelors in LA, a man most women would give up their inheritances to kiss, a man she worked with on a daily basis, a man who had been a nuisance, of a sorts, until last night, a man she'd secretly crushed on. AND SHE COULD NOT REMEMBER HAVING SEX WITH HIM!

With a sob that was half bitter laugh, half despair, she dashed to her feet, ignoring the way her stomach heaved at the sudden motion, and headed for the open doorway that clearly led into a bathroom. Once there, she shut the door and locked it, and then slumped down the wall and buried her face in her hands.

How could this have happened? What in Hades had made both her and Erik think it was a good idea for them to have sex? And why couldn't she recall any of the details? Had she really consumed that much alcohol? Had he? Had they been caught up in the romance of the occasion, or had there been a rational discussion on mutual feelings and desires for each other in advance? Had he been the one to suggest they move things to a more private location, or had it been her? Under what conditions would that conversation have even taken place? Had anyone seen them leaving the party together? Would there be talk about her and Erik linking up for the night?

Where were they anyway, and for fuck’s sake, why did the room keep moving up and down? She was definitely going to vomit, wasn't she? She hated that nauseating feeling!

Good God, what should she do now? Should she sneak out and head home as fast as her feet could carry her, or should she go out there and confront him about what they'd done? Should she demand answers about his memories and motives, or pretend last night hadn't meant anything significant to her to save what was left of her pride?

Her head pounded hard in her temples, nearly making her cry.

"Fuck, Emoni, you're loud enough to wake the dead. Calm down…”

Stiffening, she stopped breathing and listened. Erik was right outside the door and he definitely sounded grouchy and hung-over.

Wait, had she been talking to herself? She'd been known to do so in the past, sure, but this time, she'd thought…

No, she was definitely talking to herself.

Great.

"We'll work through this," he told her, seemingly unaffected by the gravity of the situation or of her confusion over her embarrassment of being caught in the act, "Just chill-ax, girl. Breathe. Nothing to get all worked up over.”

Of all the condescending…Chill-ax?! Who in their right mind said that at their big age?!

And what about this situation, exactly, invited a person to breathe easy and be cool, anyway? They'd woken up in bed together! They'd apparently fucked their brains out last night…after he'd shaved her pussy and pierced her bellybutton with a diamond the size of Sardinia! She wasn't walking right for a week, and he'd have to slap a plaster on that throat of his to hide the battle scars. Wasn't that the least bit upsetting to him? How could he sound so composed?

"Are you coming out any time soon?" he asked. "I have to piss.”

"No…now go away," she growled, irritated that he seemed completely at ease with having had sex with her. Why wasn't he more affected by it? Was it such a normal thing for him to wake up with a strange woman in his bed in the morning that it simply didn't faze him anymore?

She definitely must have said that bit out loud AGAIN because he replied, "You're not a strange woman! I've known you for over ten years, “He pounded on the door with his fist. "Now open up or I'll have no choice but to piss all over this pretty dress."

His threat really didn't hold the kind of weight he'd probably intended, as Emoni considered it more an offer rather than a warning. Sadly, a neon yellow stain wouldn't, in fact, help her dress look any better. It was simply too ugly a thing to be salvaged, even by urine. She'd be glad to be rid of it as soon as she got back to her apartment today.

"Just make sure you aim and hit the magenta part square on," she advised him, “Shampooing pee out of a carpet can be a nasty task."

“C’mon, Emoni. I’m serious, I gotta go. Cut this shit out. It’s childish…”

Enoni sighed and a beat later, she opened the door without another warning.

He was naked of course, and despite his sleep-tousled locs and slightly hung-over expression, Erik Stevens was still his same old handsome self. And wow, he was really, really fit, too. Only a blind person wouldn’t be able to tell he kept himself in shape, sure, but to see it in person in front of her like this and without the disguise of a suit, it made the moment all too real for her. That muscular frame was deliciously and so was that—

Big. All over.

As the blood in her body rushed to her head, making her headache worse, Emoni quickly turned away. Her skin felt as if there was a four-alarm blaze happening in her capillaries, and her stomach flipped, which made her slightly queasy.

"Don’t you have other bathrooms in this house? This one is occupied,” she requested, put out with his audacity, but he merely moved into the room towards the toilet and lifted the lid. "You're not serious!" she gasped.

He didn’t give a fuck!

She hit the bedroom and had the bathroom door shut behind her right as he began peeing. His tired laughter followed her out.

Smug bastard.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I think the KBD universe has to be my favourite thing of yours that you've written, I constantly go back to reread all of them all the time! I'm not sure if you're still taking Christmas requests or if you've moved on and are ready for the New Year, but I was wondering if you could please write about maybe what the girls got for Christmas or how they celebrated the holiday? (this is for if you're still in the Christmas spirit) Or maybe how they are planning to spend New Year's Eve, or day? (this is for if you're ready for the New Year) <3 xxx

kbd —the harringtons chill out before new year's ♡ mom!reader, 1.2k

“Do you think we have enough hot dogs for New Year's?” you ask, eyeing the top shelf of the fridge. 

Steve steps in behind you casually, his entire front pressed to your back. An excuse to wrap you up into a hug, he folds his arms over your stomach and drops his nose into your shoulder. “What?” he asks, kissing the sliver of shoulder exposed by your t-shirts drooping neckline. 

“Hot dogs. Dove will eat four herself, and that's only one each for the rest of us.” 

“Beth won't eat one, and neither will you, probably. So that's two for me and two for Avery. Think we need more?” he asks. 

Probably not, but what if Avery decides she wants a third? Avery doesn't have tantrums, she just retreats into herself and cries, which is worse. “I'll put it on the list,” Steve says, likely having had the same thought. 

“You're making chilli?” 

“For my Beth,” he says, “uh-huh.” 

“And I'm making butterfly cupcakes. And Robin's still coming? Wait, what if Robin wants a hot dog?” 

“I'll get another jar,” he says, hugging you sweetly. “Okay?” 

You turn your face toward him and let him kiss the place under your chin. He's more passionate than you're expecting, which is to say, his hand feels at your stomach and his other rises to just beneath your chest, and he noses at you until your lips are on his.

He turns you slowly into his grasp, chest to chest, and kisses you more. 

Steve pulls away to look over your face proudly. “You're so pretty.” 

“Thanks, H,” you say. You sew your arms behind his neck for another hug. He squeezes you close and the force of it has him doing that strange sweet thing where he shifts from one foot to the other, dancing you on the spot. “You're pretty too.” 

“Not like you.” He sounds like he's smiling. “You're beautiful.” 

For once, the planets align, the universe knows how much you need it, and you get to hug your husband for as long as you like. The fridge is cold on your back but he rubs it warm, and the sound of the girls playing in the living room only serves to make your hugging nicer. 

“Love you,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“I love you,” he says. He backs away to take your face into both of his hands. “I'm really proud of you. You really knocked it out of the park this year.” 

You shake your head, befuddled. “What? Steve, you barely needed my help, you did half the presents on your own, you did all of the grocery shopping, you barely let me cook.” 

“You just had a baby.” 

“Kind of,” you say. 

“So yeah, I'm proud of you. And you worked hard to make sure we had the money for the presents, for the groceries, for all of it.” 

“We work hard,” you say bashfully. 

“Listen to me,” he says, in his gentlest of tones, the kind he uses when you're sick, his thumbs pushing back the fat of your cheeks slowly, “listen. What you did this year? How hard you've worked, after months of being probably the most pregnant you've ever been,” —you laugh and jostle both yourself and him— “and then just running straight back into it? You think I didn't notice all that?” 

“Of course not, you told me enough,” you say quietly. 

He smiles and kisses you under the chin with a loud smack of his lips. “Love you so much. Thank you for another perfect Christmas.” 

You force him into a second tight hug so he can't see your glassy eyes. It's really, really nice to be loved by him. He always acknowledges you. He's always been this good to you, before and after the babies. 

Speaking of. A patter of feet race through the living room to the kitchen. You and Steve turn to see them at the same time, Dove and Bethie hand in hand with a Barbie dangling by the foot in Dove's small fist. “Daddy,” she says, “mommy, hello.” 

“Hello, trouble,” Steve says. 

“What do you want?” you ask suspiciously. 

Bethie looks at her sister then back to you both, caught. “How did you know that we wanted something?” 

“You look like you do,” you say. You bend down with a smile and beckon her forward, wiping at a chocolate smudge on her cheek. “Have you been eating chocolate coins again, lovely girl?” 

“Some,” she says, grinning. “Dove–” Beth drops her sister’s hand. “I want to have dinner again. And Dove says, um, that she wants some too.” 

“You're hungry?” Steve asks, bending down beside you. 

“Yes.” She smiles with teeth, an awkward show of teeth. She's very pretty, but she hasn't mastered smiling on purpose. Doesn't matter. Steve would make her a five course dinner in the middle of the night if she asked. 

“What do you want, honey?” he asks excitedly. Bethie is a bad eater, so her being hungry is always a good thing. 

More footsteps. You hold the door open for Avery as she trots in, already smiling in her new robe as she walks straight into your pyjama-clad thighs. “Mom, guess what?” she asks, her chin digging into your leg. 

“What?” 

“I finished the puzzle!” 

“You did? All five hundred pieces? Oh my gosh, daddy, we have a pro in the house.” Luckily, the other girls weren't interested in Avery's jigsaw, and she's had some time to herself. You hadn't expected Avery to like it as much as she did, you only bought it because it was off different kinds of dogs, which she loves. 

Steve beams at Avery with the same shade of pride he'd worn only ten minutes earlier. “No way! Sweetheart, we'll have you on the thousand piece ones in no time.” 

She flusters at all the positive attention and hides her face in your hip. Not like her. You giggle and rub the top of her shoulder affectionately. “Can I come and see?” you ask. 

She remembers her enthusiasm. “Yes! Yeah, come and look, please. Daddy, please?” 

You all march back into the living room to gather around the small table that Avery's commandeered for her puzzle. Dove has been given strict instruction to leave it alone, and she's so high on Christmas happiness she hasn't bothered disobeying.

You peek over at Wren snoozing in her bassinet. She's a sleepy baby now she's done with her colicky tirade of terror. Steve sees you looking and takes your hand, lime he's saying, Yeah, you made that one too. 

“Oh, wow,” he says, voice thick with awe. 

“You did it so quickly, you're so smart,” you praise, bending down to Avery's height. “Wow, look at the puppies. They're so cute. They're like you.” Mom-ese never fails. 

Avery wraps her arms around herself and leans up on toes to kiss your cheek. “Thanks, mom.” 

Steve squeezes her arm. 

[loveshotzz]

kitchen? 😏

Just a little something i’ve been plugging away at since @palmtreesx3 put the idea of us wearing AIRWIY!steve’s baseball jersey from chapter nine and what that would do to him. It spiraled into our first sleep over at his house and him cooking us breakfast the next morning. Here’s a little snippet for you baby.

18+ - fem!reader, age gap, older!steve, fingering

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him, chest puffing out a little more just for you. Licking his full pink lips, they pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you giggle before you slip your hand into his palm, watching with glazed eyes when it disappears in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, while he grins down at you like someone who just won the grand prize at the fair. He wraps an arm around you to keep you from leaving, letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his turn soft, with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, the palm on your back squeezing you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he gets because of it, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meeting in the middle with eager enthusiasm, front teeth scraping together as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. He’s met with the bare swell of your ass when he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, and you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when two thick fingers trace a line up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine and your knees shake.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows bunch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out, eyes rolling back when he spreads you apart.