#drabble night

[hopefulromances]

can you do when they're holding hands and one just brings them up to their lips and places a kiss on their fingers. with jamie she/her please?

You walked outside the house to where Jamie was sitting with Roy. You had a plate of food in your hand for you and Jamie to share except now, sitting in your seat, was Keeley.

"Jamie!" You cried as you came up to the group. "What happened to defending my seat with you life?"

Jamie looked up at you, surprised. "Oh, sorry, babe, but Keeley was pretty convincing."

"I gave him five pounds," Keeley added, giggling at the two of your.

"Five pounds?!" You scoffed, rounding on Jamie again. "You sold me out for five pounds."

"Wait, just, listen, listen!" He insisted, grabbing you by your hips and drawing you towards him. He shot Keeley an angry look before pouting up at you. "Now you can sit on my lap, yeah? Way better then sitting all the way over there."

"Jesus fucking christ," Roy groaned, rolling his eyes at the pitiful display. "Honestly, (Y/N), just fucking leave him."

"That was never on the table. But as you tried to give Jamie an angry look, you found yourself unable to stay mad at him. As your frown started to break into a smile, Jamie pulled you down into his lap.

"See, I told you this was better," He cooed, resting his head on your shoulder. "Did you get this for me?" You picked up a grape and popped it in his mouth.

"You two are fucking disgusting," Roy growled, holding a hand up to block his view.

"Aw, Roy, babes, are you jealous?" Keeley teased, reaching over and squeezing his knee. "Want me to come sit on your lap."

"In your dreams, Jones," He shot back.

But you weren't listening to them bicker. You were too busy paying attention to the way Jamie picked up your hand and kissed each of your fingers gently. You leaned back against his chest, your temple resting on his cheek as you gazed upon him.

"What's that for?" You murmured to him.

"Just cause I love you," he responded in between kisses. He slotted his fingers with yours and held them out arms length. "Just love my girl is all."

You blushed and kissed his cheek. "I love my boy, too." He grinned against your cheek. "Even if he did sell me out for five pounds."

"Oi! It was all part of the plan!"

[angelisverba]

first time yn calls mafia!harry daddy 🥰🥰🥰

omgomgomg

it’s so obvious that he’s her safe space.

after he takes her to the wellness center he stays for a few days but talks to the on-site therapist in what the best route for this new relationship is and decides that it’s best if he gives her some space to process everything that happened with her ex. when he tells her this she cries bc she thinks what they shared was a lie, but he kisses his tears away and tells her that’s not true, and the fact that she says that to begin with is why she needs more space. he tells her she can contact him whenever, that the warden has his phone number and that she can call him through her, and that he will personally pick her up when she’s ready.

so, after two months of talking on the phone until she falls asleep and her going to therapy, walks, and yoga throughout the day, she’s finally ready.

she calls him. he picks her up and takes her to lunch at a niche place and he pretty much wines and dines her. he pulls out her chair, orders a hearty meal for her, asks her about their time spent apart, all the whole staring right into her eyes.

it makes her fucking squirm.

y/n is hot under his gaze, and she wants nothing more than to be held by him. to finally close the gap between them and cement their relationship into a real, new thing after the soul searching she’s done. but also, she doesn’t know if he still feels the same,if maybe it was all in her head. if maybe leaving was a bad idea because she still feels that way.

when they leave, they do so with his hand around her and her body tucked against his. he helps her into the car, and they don’t even make it to his house before they’re kissing, hot and heavy in the backseat of his car. she so needy for him, and it’s like he knows because he’s pushing back against her kisses with just as much eagerness as her, their teeth are clashing and they’re heavily pawing at each other. she’s half in his lap and he’s crowding her.

his warmth is all around her, his smell, his energy. y/n can feel how pliant she’s become for him, her limbs fuzzy and heavy. and if just slips.

“please make me cum, daddy.”

and harry doesn’t- he can’t- he

“fuck, baby. daddy will give you whatever you want.” his mouth is still pressed against hers, his hands trailing further up her thighs and hooking into her underwear. “you’re daddy’s princess, got it?”

[japrilhaze]

in a writing/headcanon type of mood, so… my askbox is open & if you feel so inclined, please send me asks about april, jackson, japril or literally anything grey’s related— i’ll answer questions about myself as well!

[usernamemybeloathed]

This is another drabble I did for drabble night. I'm quite liking these!

"Need a hand?" Emily asked as he stumbled away from the bar, clattering into a stool as he went.

"Nope," Shane’s response was curt, short. He didn’t want help. Not from Emily, or anybody. He knew the way home, he just had to get there.

"Come, I'll walk you home." Emily was just trying to be nice, but it irritated the shit out of him. He didn't need it. Once he got outside, the cool night air would sober him up. It always did.

Stepping outside, his foot slipped on the cobbles. There she was, hand outstretched.

"Just, take it."

[fallenbratfiction]

thinking of husband bucky tonight...kinda in the mood to write about him again

thank you for the love on this one ♡ you're all so deserving of more husband!bucky content

Devoted - bucky barnes x f!reader

Husband! Bucky Barnes can’t take his eyes or his hands off of you. He has to make the biggest effort around the kids, and honestly, it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of.

A/N: Growing up with parents who you've never seen kissing, hugging, or saying "love you" to each other, yeah, it does something to you. I recommend you listen to like real people do while reading.

warnings: domestic fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, bucky being a dream husband, vulnerable talk, parental PDA and kids being grossed out (but funny), so so so wholesome.

masterlist faq

minors dni with this story or blog. you're responsible for what you do. do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed (and cried) writing this!

You grew up in a house where love was... quiet. If it was there at all, it never spoke. No kisses over coffee. No lingering glances. No hands held on road trips. “I love you” was said with the same flat tone as “dinner’s ready.” It taught you that love was restraint. Conditional. Measured.

No one yelled, but no one kissed. No one fought, but no one held hands. “I love you” was something you overheard in movies — not around the dinner table.

You grew up unsure if your parents loved each other, or just… merely existed beside one another. Tolerated each other. Did they love each other? You still don’t know. Maybe they didn’t, and maybe that’s what scared you the most.

Because it made you wonder if that was all love ever was.

And then you met Bucky Barnes.

And he rewrote everything.

When Bucky Barnes came into your life, it felt like getting hit with sunlight after decades in the dark.

He's unapologetically soft for you. Hands always reaching—brushing your hair back, pulling you close, squeezing your hip as he walks by. Your kids are so over it.

“Do you have to do that now?” your oldest groans as Bucky kisses your cheek in the middle of the grocery store. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Your mom’s hot.” You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm. Every single time.

It’s the little things Bucky does that undo you.

Like when you're driving the kids to school, and he insists on holding your hand — even when you're the one behind the wheel. His fingers slide between yours easily, resting on your thigh, warm and grounding. His thumb draws lazy circles against your skin as you maneuver turns, one hand on the wheel, one hand in his.

“You know this is wildly impractical,” you tease, eyes flicking over to him.

He grins, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, voice low and smug. “Don’t care. I gotta hold my girl.” “Can you not be in love for five minutes?” your son groans.

You and Bucky just laugh. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like some old-timey gentleman who also happens to be a menace. And still doesn’t let go.

Bucky, who hugs you from behind while you’re cooking and whispers in your ear like a menace "Skip dinner, let’s order in and make out on the couch."

Your daughter and son groan loudly from the couch, “OH MY GOD.” “I’m gonna pour bleach in my eyes!” Bucky laughs, holding you tighter with his metal arm snug around your waist, “Love you too, buddy.”

He kisses you while you're folding laundry. He dances with you in the kitchen just because the song is good. Tells you he loves you like it’s as natural as breathing — because for him, it is.

And yeah, sometimes he says dumb things like,

"Bucky, why is the car so hot?" He throws you a wink. “Cause you got in it.” A chorus of “Daaaaaad!” erupts from the backseat.

“Oh my god.” Your son gags. “I’m gonna be ill.” Bucky glances at them through the mirror, unfazed. “Good. Builds immunity.”

But under all the dramatics, they smile when they think you’re not looking. They giggle when he slow dances with you in the kitchen, or calls you doll like it’s sacred. They see it. They know it’s real. They know it’s safe.

You didn’t grow up with love like this — but you’re raising them with it. And that matters.

That night, after the kids are asleep and the house is finally quiet, you curl up beside him on the bed, wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else. The air is warm and soft-lit, and you’re sunk so deep into the quiet you almost don’t want to break it.

But you do.

“Can I tell you something kind of dumb?” you murmur.

“Doll, you could talk nonsense for hours and I’d still nod along like it’s gospel.”

You laugh, but it fades. “Sometimes I still wait for it to stop.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Stop?”

You bite your lip. “I grew up thinking love didn't exist or wasn't meant to be shown. That it had to be quiet. Conditional. Measured. So sometimes I still catch myself waiting for the moment it… ends. That you leave. That it all disappears.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and touches your cheek like he’s holding something fragile and precious. Because he is.

“Doll… whoever taught you that love had to be small, they were so wrong. I need to love you like this. Big. Loud. Always. I need to hold your hand while we’re driving and kiss your neck while you're stirring the pasta.” He swallows hard. “I want to love you in a way you never have to question. Ever.”

Tears prick your eyes, and he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and your mouth.

You kiss him like you’re trying to press every word you haven’t said yet into his mouth. And he lets you—hands on your waist, grounding you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish if he lets go.

When you finally pull back, just far enough to breathe, he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the damn sky.

“I think about it a lot,” he says softly, voice rough, “how lucky I got.”

You blink, heart thudding. “Bucky…”

“No, listen.” He brushes your hair back, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “After everything I’ve seen—everything I’ve done—I didn’t think I’d get this. I thought my story ended in blood and silence. And then there you were. Warm, loud, bossy as hell—loving me without flinching.”

You shake your head, tears building. “You don’t have to thank me—”

“I do.” His voice breaks. “I have to thank you every damn day. For seeing me when I couldn’t. For staying when it was hard. For giving me this life. The kids. You. All of it.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just kiss him again, slow and deep, a promise pressed into skin.

And as his hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, you think— Yeah. You got lucky too.

You pull back eventually, breathless, heart full. And then you rise to your feet.

He looks up, dazed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

You smirk, already halfway to the hallway. “Gotta make sure the door’s locked,” you call over your shoulder. “We don’t want to traumatize them.”

Bucky groans, laughing, throwing himself back against the pillows. “You’re killin’ me.”

“And I’ll bring you back to life, Barnes.” You wink, hovering over him, straddling his waist as his hands slide up, thumbs rubbing slow, hiking closer to the hem of your shirt.

You smirk, leaning over him, ready to take your place on top — but before you can, his hands slide around your waist. In one smooth motion, he flips you over, pinning you gently beneath him.

“Not so fast, doll,” he murmurs, grinning as he settles between your legs. “You always think you’re in charge.”

You arch a brow, breath hitching. “And you love it.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dark and soft all at once. He leans down, brushing your hair back to kiss your neck — slow and deep, with a bite that makes you shiver.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

You exhale a laugh, heart skipping. “You always wanna take care of me.”

He smiles against your skin, lips trailing lower, worship in every movement.

“Damn right I do.”

Because loving you isn’t a duty. It’s instinct. It’s devotion.

I am a mix of emotions! 🥹💕😫🤧 I really enjoyed writing husband! Bucky and I will definitely do it again!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, feel free to leave your opinion!

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged as they help this story grow! ✨✨✨

[jjungkookislife]

but anyway, if anyone wants a drabble feel free to send a word/sentence/prompt and a member

i have some writing i want to do tonight and it's just me and my kitty at home tonight :)

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce enters the conference room on the Watchtower. He is wearing a baby carrier with a baby inside it.

There is a hoo-ha.

"Why is there a baby," whispers Flash to Superman.

Clark shrugs. "It's probably one of the Robins."

"What?" says Barry tightly. "No, none of them are that age!"

"Jesus Bar, it's like you've never heard of de-aging beams."

"I'm not feeling good about the fact that you're taking this so lightly." Barry scratches at his five o' clock shadow. "If it is a Robin, it's very weird. But it's more weird if it's not."

"Maybe it's a Batgirl," suggests Diana, leaning in. "Cass or...or Steph. The purple one."

"That fits the purple diaper," says Barry reflectively.

"Barry stop hyperfixating on this," Clark says. "Let it go."

The baby is crying a little, sucking on its thumb. Batman gives it a chew toy as he continues working, and then produces a bottle out from under his cape, and holding the baby's head at a careful angle, begins to feed it.

"Batman..." Flash says, miserably curious. "Why do you have a baby?" He points at it, as if to make clear what baby he is talking about.

Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. "Newly orphaned. Mother threw her from the spire of a church tower in Scarecrow-fear-toxin-induced hallucinations. Then she threw herself. I could only save one."

Barry looks like the dictionary illustration for the word 'flabbergasted'.

"Oh," is all he says. "Oh. Okay."

"I've found her a good home. She'll leave in a few hours." Bruce looks down, and then mutters to himself, "I just wanted to hold her".

Superman pretends he doesn't have super-hearing.

[lilacgaby]

katsuki, who practices asking you out by talking to you. or well, a sleeping you at least.

you'd developed a habit of sleeping after a study session, which is when he'd take the time and softly whisper his confession to you, hands fiddling with his pencil, curses spilling from his lips as he messed up. heart rate spiking everytime you'd adjust yourself in your sleep.

it was the fifth time when he finally got his words down pat. his voice vibrating against the palm he used to support his head as he stringed the words together perfectly,

all for it to go to waste when he actually confessed. the words leaving his mind, his mouth hung open as the cogs turned in his mind, your favorite flowers held tightly in his hands as he fought to string together something. anything?

"please be my girlfriend."

as he felt his soul leave his body, he was relieved when you took the flowers out his hands, a smile on your lips as you eased all his tension with just 3 words.

"of course, katsuki."

years passed, yet the memories of his preparation never left his mind. and even though they weren't exactly helpful in the end..

he couldn't help himself from practicing his proposal to you using the same method. now though, you were asleep in your shared bedroom, you were both pro-heroes now, and he fiddled with the ring he bought for you instead of that mechanical pencil.

a lot of things didn't change though. the anxious feelings and butterflies that bubbled in his chest as he stuttered and mumbled a practiced speech over and over again,

and you, who played along despite not really being asleep.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles @babylambdietcoke @deimosjay

[sunsburns]

guess

smut 18+, age gap, fem reader, underwear fixation

logan howlett loves to swear up and down that he’s too old to mess around with a pretty young thing like you. you’re out of his league in everything you do, from the way you can get up early in the morning and stay out late at night, stumbling back into your apartment in a fit of giggles, humming the last song that played at the club you were returning from.

he acts like he doesn’t notice, and he acts like you don’t exist. but the moment you bumped into him in the laundry room it’s been hard to ignore you.

it was wade who’d introduced the two of you to each other when he was giving logan the grand tour of the apartment complex, and they’d run into you while you were unloading a drier, tossing your clothes into a basket.

you in your tiny shorts and tight tank top, one earbud in and the other dangling by your chest. he tried hard not to stare, especially when you slowly straightened yourself up, holding your basket of clothes to your side, hair messy and sticking to your face a little bit.

it was hot in the laundry room, hell, the whole fucking building felt like a furnace now that the a.c. refused to work in the peak of summer.

but there you were, wide smile and open arms when wade shoved logan in your direction. you didn’t take it personally when he merely grunted at you, a slight nod to his head as a greeting. to logan’s surprise, your lips curled as you looked up at him, and you stared up at him like he was some kind of tree you wanted to climb.

no shame about it either.

logan’s eyes were drawn to your basket as wade spoke, retelling the whole story of how the two of you became ‘neighbour besties’, as he had put it. how you helped wade keep up with the ‘youngsters’, as he called them.

no, logan was too busy staring at a lacy black pair of panties sitting at the top of your basket. pretty little thing, pretty little bows to adorn it.

he slowly tore his eyes away from them and looked at you, then down to your hips where he could see your bright pink underwear, peaking out from the denim.

and maybe, in a dream or two, he imagined what those cute pink ones looked like in full. how it would be like to push you against your door before you could even unlock it, unbutton your shorts and dig his hands into them just to feel the soft fabric of your pretty pink underwear, soiled and ruined from how wet you were with want.

but for now, he’d have to do with the black lacy ones, he almost didn't want to take them off. running his hands over the fabric, grinning when your back arches against the bed, a little desperate, way too needy.

you’ve soaked them, all ruined just from him touching you, from the way his teeth teased you, pulling at the bows, running his nose over your clothed pussy.

logan hooked his fingers over the fabric at the center, pulling it to the side, tongue poking into your cunt, drawing out a whine from you. with an open mouth, he pulled back to see your slick, coated lips with a satisfied grunt.

logan pulled them back just to stare. fuck, they were so pretty. you were so pretty just sitting under him, in nothing but those pretty panties. yeah, logan might be old, but he can keep up for a night.

[aeonmnei]

— osamu quietly sighs to himself as he hears an irritated grumble from your side of the bed, along with the soft huff of the bedsheet as you shift uncomfortably. his mild exasperation dissipates quickly, however, when he hears you whimper and sniff.

osamu tosses a pillow aside as he turns over to check on you, spread eagle on the bed with your forearm over your eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. 

you’ve got an awful pout on your face, and he can see a tear slide down your cheek and onto your lips in the faint light. osamu watches in slight amusement when you lick it off. he clears his throat. “what’s wrong?” he asks again. 

there’s a pause as you sniff loudly. you dig your palms into your eyes. “it’s hot,” you say, finally. osamu’s deadpan as he leans on his elbow to look at you. that’s all?? “well, yeah, baby,” he replies plainly. “t’s summer.” 

“it’s so hot, i can’t sleeeeep,” you groan, your leg swinging over to land on top of his. “‘m so tired, ‘samu. and that fan’s doing jackshit.” “it’s literally in yer face, babe,” osamu tries, but you let out another weary sob that makes him roll his eyes as he starts to get up, peeling your sticky leg off of him as he does.

“where’re you going?” you mumble, still sniffling. “gettin’ ya a fan,” osamu grunts, feet dragging sleepily across the wood floor.

he comes back a few minutes later with a large handfan, lying back next to you on his side. osamu snaps it open and starts fanning you— face, chest, stomach, and back up again. you relax, settling into the bed contentedly, and he can’t help but scoff.

“yer sucha drama queen, ya know that?” he tells you, his voice full of affection. “seriously.”

note: i think i spent more time debating between a colon and an em dash than i did writing the damn thing

[hopefulromances]

can you do protective jamie with she/her reader?

ALWAYS. I can ALWAYS DO protective Jamie.Also has this trope been done a lot? Yes. Does that mean I will not contribute? Absolutely not.

You loved being in Physio. You got to stand on the side of the field, feel the excitment of the game right on the front row. And everyone knew who you were. You were Jamie Tartt's girl.

"Jaim, make sure you stretch out you hamstrings, yeah?" You instructed him as you helped him stretch out his back. "It was bothering you last time."

"Heard yah," he answered, bending over to strech as instructed.

The other team started coming out of the tunnel for their warm ups, walking down the sidelines to greet some of the Richmond players. Today we were playing Crystal Palace, nothing to serious, just a standard middle of the season match. Then you spotted him.

You whistled at Jamie. "Prick at 12 o'clock."

Jamie glanced up from his stretching and clocked the person you were referring to. That was, of course, Max Powell, your Ex, and a defender on Crystal Palace.

"He's headed this way?" Jamie checked, not taking his eyes off of Max.

"Yup."

And headed he did. He strutted right up to where you and Jamie were working, not even bothering to acknowledge Jamie.

"(Y/N), hey, good to see you," he greeted, kicking his legs a bit.

"Hey, Pow" Jamies stood up straight and puffed his chest out a bit. "You good, mate?"

Max shot Jamie a glance, as if he forgot he was there. "Tartt."

You rolled your eyes, packing up your physio bag as the two men compared sizes. Max Powell was a capital 'A' asshole and had been the whole time you dated. But since you got your job at Richmond and finally had a group of people who supported you, you were able to leave him and find Jamie.

"Alright, boys, I'll see you both on the pitch," you excused yourself, turning to leave. As you did though, Max reached out and grabbed onto your arm. You immediatly flinched away from him, yanking your arm out of his hand.

Jamie flared up, moving between you and him. "Watch yourself, Powell."

"Woah, woah, woah," Max threw his hands up. "I was just trying to get her to talk to me."

"Well, she doesn't want to talk to you," Jamie bit back, making himself even taller.

You grabbed onto Jamie, pulling him back towards you. "It's fine, Jamie. Max, he's right, I don't want to talk to you." Max opened his mouth to say something but you turned around and walked back towards the Richmond seats.

Max tried to walk after you but Jamie blocked his path.

"See you on the pitch, right?" Jamie growled, looking down at the man.

Max looked right back up at Jamie, his stare hard. "Right."

The match was tough. Both teams playing admirably making it a stalemate at nil-nil most of the match. You were on the edge of your seat, watching them run back and forth on the pitch. But, there seemed to be extra animosity between the team. Specially between Max and Jamie.

Max was there everytime Jamie tried to go towards the goal. Knocking him off the ball, or stealing the ball away from him. Jamie would land on his ass and jump back up immediatly before chasing the ball down again.

"Woah, that was a hard fall," Nate commented, glancing over at you.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as Jamie shouted something towards Max. "Yeah, it was."

You walked back to your seat and sat down. As you watched Jamie, you could tell his hamstring was bothering him. It always did when he played too rough. You'd have to work on it during the half so he didn't pull it.

As soon as the whistle was blown signifying the half, you marched over to Jamie.

"You're hamstring is bothering you isn't it?" You started, walking alongside him as you started into the tunnel.

"Fuckin Max Powell, getting in me fuckin' head," he muttered, angrily, hopping on one leg as he tried to stretch out his hamstring.

"Don't let him get to you," You muttered back, walking shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Hey, Tartt!" Right on cue, Max's voice came from behind. "Nice game on the pitch, huh?"

Jamie started to turn but you grabbed onto him. "Just keep walking."

"Whatever, fuckin' pussy."

There was no way Jamie was ignoring that. You moved out of the way as Jamie spun around to get in Max's face. "What did you just say?"

"I called you a fuckin' pussy," Max spat at him. "Can't play for shit, can't moved for shit, can't fuck your girl for shit." There was inches between the two players. You knew Max's schoolyard taunts were just getting to Jamie because of their similarity to his father's taunts. "Why don't you move out of the way and I can remind her exactly what I did for her."

In an instant, Jamie was slamming Max against the wall. "You can talk to me all you want, yeah?" Jamie growled into his ear. "Talk your shit about me. But if you EVER, talk to her or about her again I will end you, do you understand?"

Jamie's voice was low and dark in a way you'd never heard before. It sent chills down your spine as you went to seperate them.

"That's enough, okay? Max, get back to your team, Jamie. Locker room. Now." You pulled Jamie away from Max who stared, shellshocked as you and Jamie walked down the hall.

As soon as you rounded the corner you smacked Jamie's upside the head.

"What the fuck was that?" You grabbed him and pulled him down to kiss him eliciting a gasp of surprise from Jamie. "Fucking idiot."

Jamie pulled back from you, a confused look on his face. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You almost beat him up for me?" You stated, hitting his shoulder.

"Ow! Stop that!" Jamie cried, grabbing your arms and pushing them against your sides. "I just didn't like the things he was saying bout you is all."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth fill your chest. When you were with Max, he never would have defended you like that. He never would have cared enough to threaten anyone. Not that you needed to someone to defend your honor, but Jamie's passion for you was so beautiful.

"Thank you," you said softly, biting your lip. "It's... sweet."

Jamie's face broke out into a cocky grin as he realized you were into it. He released your arms and slide his hands around you waist.

"Oh, so you think it's hot?" He crooned, pulling you close to him.

You pressed your hand against his chest, shaking your head at him. "Whatever, now I regret telling you."

"No, no! Say it again, you like me defending you."

"Not happening."

He leant down and kissed you again, gently. You couldn't help but laugh a bit, knowing he was doing it to turn you on. But that would have to wait. You pushed him away.

"Alright, go stretch you hamstrings properly now," You instructed. He saluted before jogging off towards the locker room. "And Jamie?"

He turned towards you. "Yeah?"

"Do win that fucking game."

He did. They won 2-Nil with an expert goal by Jamie Tartt.

[angelisverba]

jealous mafia h 😌😌😌

oh boy 🤓 this one will be fun i think

y/n is just a woman in the same way that harry is just a man. so she’s going to look, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to act.

however, harry doesn’t know that.

there’s a very beautiful man that harry’s doing business with. he’s not the most beautiful, because to her that will always be harry. but he was very interesting and pleasing to look at. they’re at dinner, y/n seated next to her lover across from Matthias- the thick, brawny, sun-bronzed, Sicilian Mafia leader- when harry tenses.

they’re dressed to the nines in this fancy ass restaurant, y/n in a silky dress with a back so low if she moves incorrectly her unmentionables show. it’s not happening however, because her spine is ramrod straight and her hands are in her lap, legs crossed. she looks perky, pretty.

harry has drifted out of the conversation because he can’t stop looking at his beautiful girl, and also because something isn’t sitting right with him. she’s… paying too much attention. normally she’s pinching his thighs or huffing in her seat, her foot kicking in it’s crossed position to show her impatience. but now right now.

she’s paying rapt attention to matthias. her eyes a little doe like with interest and it makes him so fucking mad because normally y/n is giving him that look. his blood boils and his fingers dig into the arms of his chair, itching to dig into something. so he puts his hand on her thigh and squeezes, but she doesn’t even fucking look at him.

“darling,” he mumbles quietly. giving her thigh another squeeze to get her attention. he says it quietly enough that no one else hears him. the new york mafia godfather and the italian conversing about their motherland.

y/n leans microscopically in his direction with a distracted, “hmm?”

and it does it for him.

“y/n, what the fuck. are you doing?”

and this gets her attention.

she snaps to attention, giving him those mooney eyes and an innocent smile that wobbles in the corners because she knows what she’s done and she knows what she’s in for when they get home.

“nothing, daddy,” she whispers, placing her hand over the one that is now digging into her flesh almost painfully. it makes her clit throb and heat and the seam of her pussy clench with anticipation.

he’s incredibly hard in his pants because he can't stop imagining what he's going to do with her when they get home. how he's going to stuff her so full of his cock it will be the only thing she can think about, and how y/n will be fucked so stupid buy him, that the only thing that will leave her mouth is his name in varying volumes. how fucking dare she look at another man? did he not fuck her good enough?

"don't fucking lie-"

"m'not," y/n's eyes are round, filled with a little panic.

"brat," he spits, jaw clenched. his appetite gone. they're only in the middle of the second course, and he was wondering how he could leave the lunch without angering the other king pin's and accidentally starting a crime war. "want your eyes on me or on your plate until we're done here, understood?"

"yes, daddy."

"and when we get home i'm going to fuck you so hard you wont ever look at another man like that again."

[theorist-fox]

Simon has dinner

Literally I don't know what this is I just got horny

18+

CW: simon eats you out, squirting, idk

Placing the window in front of the stove was a good choice, you think—especially since your kitchen faces west. The sun kisses your skin as it sets at the horizon, only countryside stretching before your eyes.

You're lost in your head, mindlessly stirring dinner with a wooden spoon. Red lentils, bit of coconut milk, spinach—a recipe you found online and couldn't wait to try.

Arms wrap around your waist loosely, out of the blue—appearing so suddenly that you can't help but jump on the spot.

Heart in your throat, you turn your head to look behind you in horror—

—but you're met with a smirk blooming on scarred cheek. Quickly, Simon hides it in the crook of your neck—stubble coarse against the thinner skin there, though he soon soothes the irritation with apologetic kisses.

"Scared me shitless." You breathe a chuckle, dropping your spoon on the counter. "Asshole."

He only huffs. "Sorry."

Big hands feel you up, from the curves of your stomach to the silhouette of your hips. They reach upwards, thumb at your nipple as his palm follows the soft arch of your breast. Squeezing, feeling its weight in his hand and how it delightfully dimples under the pads of his fingers.

"Bit hungry, love" he whispers, mouth kissing the shell of your ear.

No matter how often you giggle and swat him away, or say that dinner’s just about ready—he won't let go until he's satisfied. 

And you know how rare that instance is.

Which is why his hand sneakily turns off the stove.

Which is why those subtle kisses on your neck turn open and awfully patient; teeth at your jugular, bites assuaged by his tongue a moment later.

Which is why you're panting, now, naked with your ass flush to the kitchen island—clothes hanging from the back of a chair, or crumpled on the kitchen floor. 

Simon crouches before you, head already buried between your thighs.

He encourages your hands to pull at his hair, guiding your fingers to fist his curls. Encourages your moans to grow louder, because he didn't buy this cottage deep in the countryside for you to be afraid of waking up neighbours that don't exist.

He sucks on your clit, laps at your cunt until he can hear your cries grow breathy, until you fall quiet—only gasping for air.

He fits a finger inside. Then two. Sucks and licks and pumps you stuffed and full with three. Your heels digging at his back, your thighs closing in around his head. Gorgeous pressure—even if it cottons his ears, muffles your voice.

He can live with that. Feels like a right bargain.

It's probably less than a handful of minutes before you're cumming on his tongue. 

He pushes in—inhales, the bastard. Takes out his fingers and replaces his tongue, effortlessly sliding over your clit to prolong your orgasm for as long as he can.

Licks over and through them to taste the juices you drip, those that you spray. Ecstatic when you do, holding onto your thigh something fierce—like he won the moment he started drowning between your legs.

Until you're a puddle on the table, dizzy and slack. Gooey limbs draped over his shoulders, blood like syrup pumping slowly down to the tips of your toes.

He looks up at you, cheeks wet and mouth smiling the loveliest smile and yet still the cheekiest of smirks. Tenderly, you draw its outline with your thumb.

“Still peckish?” You ask with the same tease you see in his eyes.

He scoffs and turns his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, where your flesh is softer and streaked with silver lines.

"Nah," he shrugs. "Ate loads."

You snort, something between embarrassment, disgust and utmost fondness riddled in your tone.

"Oh my God, Simon."

Gently, you nudge him with your foot, hooking the arch at his shoulder. He catches it. Softly kisses your ankle through his smile, huffing a breathy laugh.

He leaves his hand there, draped over your shin—smoothing slow lines all the way to your toes, up and down, in a soothing fashion.

"Reckon bed's sounding better than dinner right now." He murmurs to your skin, leaving pecks to the side of your foot. "What d'you think?"

You shake your head fondly with a quiet chuckle.

Simon won't let go until he's satisfied—and you know, always have, that those instances are rare.

And he proves you right every single time.

Alas, dinner can wait. Takeout is always an option, after all.

You jump down the kitchen island—can't even land on your feet that he already has his hands wrapped solidly around your thighs.

He stands up, and brings you with him.

You kiss his cheek. "Reckon it does."

[theorphicangel]

#011 (full fic here)

ex bf!sukuna realising that he should have taken more photos with you.

there's a whole photo album dedicated to pictures of you but it's still not enough.

he doesn't scroll through them unless it's late at night and he realises that he's more lonely than ever. again.

just like everything else in his life, he couldn't manage to keep you. he had to mess things up like he always did. since he was a kid he's been a burden. a disaster that no one dared to fix.

until you.

you kept him in check, for a while at least. until he went back to his old mean ways, pushing you away when he most needed you. he hurt you again and this time you won't come back.

he scrolls through the album, photos of you sleeping on his chest, photos that you took of yourself, photos that you took of him when he was cooking, photos of you when you weren't looking.

you claim they were all bad photos but he begs to differ. you were the prettiest in these photos.

yeah, he should have taken more photos of you when he had the chance.

[lunarvera]

being dean's best friend is fun, because it means you get to ride around in baby late at night when you both can't sleep. or dean can't sleep, and in the middle of the night he shakes you awake. you might grumble at first, but then he jingles he keys in your face with a shit eating grin, and find yourself sleepily stumbling to your shoes. and every time watches you and shakes his head, too easy.

and it's fun because he drums on the steering wheel and sings loudly and off tune and it makes you giggle, and he'll stop at a gas station and buy you snacks and a big cherry slushy, and his mouth runs like a goddamn faucet cus he's so comfortable with you, and he's been waiting to ramble and tell you every little thought and feeling he's held in today with his dean winchester facade. and you happily listen n nod, because you love that you get this side of dean, all silly and soft smiles and stupid jokes, relaxed and free.

and you're a damn good listener, but maybe sometimes when you look at him your attention is focused less on words coming out his mouth and more on... his mouth. his plump lips. n his freckles are cute. and wow, have his lashes always been so long? dean's real pretty isn't he?

"hey! you with me?" oh. what. "hm?" he looks over at you with a teasing smile, and you notice the way your heart is thumping rather fast. "i said i'm starving and i need food now. you fallin' asleep on me, doll?" free breakfast. more dean. score. "nuh uh."

[dark-night-hero]

"So it's true! You and her- Guizhong were a thing. Then what the hell does that make me Morax?!" "Can you just drop it of? We're in a hurry." He was tired. And their friend was in danger. "No! Knowing you'll be out there to save your other lover, tell me the truth Morax! Is it true?!" It was the same topic of argument for some time now. He had been denying it over and over again, he just cannot seem to understand why you kept insisting even after hearing him say that was not the case. And he was getting tired of it.

Guizhong was just a friend and that very same friend is now in danger if they do not arrive at rhe right time and here he is getting hold up because of your questions. And knowing you would not let him go even if he were to deny it because that was the truth. Maybe he should give in for now to avoid further more questioning and leave as fast as he can so he could come back to you in now time, knowing that he could easily resolve the misunderstanding and his lies. "You know what. It's true. Now if you just get out of the way, I need to save her." "Wha-what? Wa-wait! Morax-!"

He did not mean to be harsh than he already is. He was just mad, mad because he saw no reason why you should get jealous of a friend, a common friend of yours. Mad because he was running late and a little more than to it could possibly result the death of a dear friend. At the same time, he was mad at himself for leaving that way. But he knew he could always explain when he came back into you. The two of you could always sort it out after the battle like you two always does.

So why? So why in the world- celestia were everything was on fire. And you were in the middle of it, leaning on your weapon for support, blood running down all the way from your temple into your chin. It was not just that. You are bleeding, bleeding all over. Why. Why why why why why? Just what the hell happened in here?

"Don't come." You utter, despite the fact that you could barely stand, you painfully look forward to your lover... heh, can he still be called a lover when he already admitted that he betrayed you? "Some..." you pant. "Some beings came into the city while you were away... hahh, I manage to defend the city until all the people manage to flee but- cough! Hahh, the god manage to escape."

"No. No no no no no." It was getting hard to breathe, nevertheless you should see Morax from afar, running towards you. "Bastard- I told you not to come he-!" You stagger forward, for a moment losing consciousness, still, you embrace yourself with the thought of you hitting the ground. But you never did.

"Let go." "It was a lie. There was no one else." "Morax- I said-" "I was in a hurry, I did not mean to say those words. Guizhong was only a friend. Believe me. God- Celestia. There is no one else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." He was hugging, cradling you in his arms. His tears rolling down his cheeks, into your own but you were feeling quite numb to notice that.

"It's..." You tried to hold up a hand but you could only feel the pain and the more it drains you. In the end you could only hold on into his arm. "It's okay... you don't have to lie to make me... feel better." You tried to smile to make him feel better, so why does it look like he was about to lose his whole world? "No. No please. It's nothing like that. I was a fool, I am a fool. Please believe me there is no one else but you. (First name). Please."

You knew he was talking, you can see him talking despite how things were slowly starting to go blurr, you can hear a few words but cannot seemed to focus on it when there is a high pitched ring that makes you unable to focus on what he was saying. Also, "It's cold." You mumble, fighting everything you can to stay conscious.

"Fuck!" Morax can feel your body slowly but surely cooling down. Suddenly his heart dropped as he panicked, he was getting anxious. He felt fear for the first time in his life. "Hold on, please hold on." He tried, he tried his best to fix you with his powers but it was no avail. You have so many wounds, you have already lost a lot of blood. You were dying all ago. "Fuck." He cursed once again. "Fuck, fuck! I told you to hold on (First name)!" He was getting mad again.

Morax felt like he was going mad, he felt like he was about to get crazy. Specially when he saw you starting to close your eyes. He felt a shiver down his spine. "Don't you dare close your eyes (First name)!" Not like this, not when you seemed to sure that he never loved- love you. "Fuck!" His amber iris were glowing with that presence of a dragon. "Don't you dare fell asleep (First name). I'm begging you please-?" He felt a light squeeze on his arm.

"Its.. okay." Taking your last breath, Morax felt the heavy weight of your now dead body in his arms. Your hand falling to your side as your head rest in his chest. At that very moment a rain drop fell from the sky, Morax arms were trembling yet still manage to pull you closer to him as if trying to find a little warmth. "Hah, hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA."

That day, the dragon lost his mate. His one and only mate as his anguish cries were heard all throughout their land.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: bye, may klase pa ko ng alas quatro sa hapon.

: Also, why is it always zhongli who become the victim of my angst ideas. Tho I might make a same promt with ???