#gotta love fulfilling requests

[yourlittlettoy]

Who wants to come help me take off my second sock~ 🥺😇😉

(Ps. This post is for everyone who’s been sending me asks, anons, and messages asking for feets 👣👀 thanks for your patience lol, I didn’t forget about you!! 🥰)

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[meowzfordayz]

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Author’s Note: pardon the ridiculously long title. 🥴😂 “Fem!Reader” applies to Tengen only.

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Akaza x Reader, Douma x Reader, Muzan x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: dark humor, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: I have a request😤 I recently read a certain ass slapping fic which I adored could you do a similar fic with the same characters +giyu and Douma with the reader coming up from behind the and squeezing their man tiddies

~faqs~

I 100% would’ve used MAN TIDDIES in my title, but figured Tumblr would hide this post from tags if I did, so I went w/ “chest” instead 😆

Also, some of these are canon compliant — Muzan, Kyojuro, Giyuu

While others are set in modern au (alternate universe; modern setting) — Akaza, Douma, Tengen

AKAZA

Immediately tenses

#noice 😌😎 after all, the man is ripped

The more Akaza tenses, the more you wanna squish

Except, it’s kinda hard to squish pure, flexed muscle ?? 😔

“Akaza, my love, could you relax?” 🥺

He’s still confused, but my love automatically has him at your beck and call, so-

He relaxes

*gleeful squeal* 😍 *squish squish* 😍

Aaand he’s tensed again

If you actually take the time to explain yourself, then he’ll be absolutely embarrassed flattered

Lowkey decides to do an extra 100 push ups daily, just bc he’s so darn in love w/ you 😭

DOUMA

Douma’s been waiting all his life for you to grab his moobs

So like

He’s one happy camper !!!!! 😌🥳

“all his life” = since he met you

As for “moobs”? I had to, just once 😃

Slowly flexes them so he can hear your amazed gasp 😍

“Are you drooling?” he smirks

“Fuck off,” you scowl

You try to withdraw your hands to wipe away your incriminating drool 😒🤤

But he doesn’t let you 🤪

He squeezes your wrists, grinning widely to himself, “Don’t leave me.” 😇

“But I’m done,” you grumble, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades (you’ve already accepted your fate 🤠)

“I’m not,” he retorts, “Not even close.” 🤗

Translation? Douma wants you to massage his pectorals

#pretty pls and ty

MUZAN

Once again, I’m presuming you’re a demon, and Muzan’s immediate reaction is to slice off your hands 💀

Thank gosh for regeneration! 😮‍💨

You’ve gotta quit surprising him 🤪

I mean

Yeah

He enjoys when you touch him 😅

BUT, he has a reputation to uphold, and being startled by your random displays of physical attention doesn’t exactly help 🙃

The implication that he lets his guard down w/ you (bc how else could you ever hope to genuinely startle him?) is making me feel things 😭

“Do that again, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

The faint dip between his brows has you thinking otherwise 🤭

“What if I ask first?” 😉

You’re treading on thin ice 😬

His eyes flash, “Pardon?”

Good thing he’s close to cracking too 😌

“If I ask to touch you?”

I’ll kill you “You wouldn’t.”

WeLp

He didn’t say No 🤗

(obvi consent’s a must, but in this specific context mutual flirtation’s strongly implied and also it’s literally Muzan)

“Oh!” <— Kyojuro exclaims, cheerful as ever ☺️

“Hello there,” he chuckles, smiling at the feeling of your body pressed against his back, “Are you checking something?”

“Mhm,” you grin, “They’re still here!” 😇

“My pectorals?” his head tilts, “Of course they are?!”

He’s ~a little oblivious, okay? 😃

“How about you hug me from the front?” he suggests gently, “That way I get to hug you too!”

😭😭😭

He’s so precious

How could you refuse?????

Spoiler alert: you can’t

GIVE THE MAN HIS HUG 🥺❤️‍🔥

Spoiler alert: you give Kyojuro his hug, and it is very cozy 🥰

A tad sweaty + suffocating, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world 🥺

Shocked 😵‍💫

Giyuu’s inner monologue: ????? What? Is? This?

Giyuu’s outer dialogue: *still as stone*

“Giyuu?” you immediately remove your hands, scurrying to his front side, head tilted w/ concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfort-” 😕

“You didn’t,” he interrupts quietly, finally grasping his bearings, “It was…” aaand now he’s blushing, “... nice.” 🥺☺️

Your nose scrunches, relief relaxing your shoulders as you nod sheepishly, “I’m glad I didn’t freak you out too much.”

“Mhm,” he smiles reassuringly, “You freaked me out,” gently guiding your palms back to his chest, “But not too much,” winking shyly at you, “The perfect amount, in fact.”

HELP !!!!! CAN YOU JUST CAN I  FWIBEIUVLNSOUEJGBWO;GNS

Suave, sexy, knows-what-he-wants, isn’t-afraid-to-tell-you, will-even-go-after-it-himself Giyuu has entered the chat

AnD I AM HERE FOR IT 😭😭😭💘

LOUD LAUGHTER

You can feel it through his tiddies 😆

“Envious, my dear?” 😉

Okay

Presumptuous much? 😒

But alllso 🙄

“If you could share…” you pout, “Gimme just a lil?” 🤗

“You’re welcome to work out with me,” he chuckles fondly, flexing for you, “These could totally be yours!”

You sigh, “Tengen, pectorals and breasts aren’t the same thing.”

“I know that,” he shrugs, patting your knuckles reassuringly, “Your breasts are perfect, and I’m happy to coach you and your pectorals if you so desire.”

You decide to test the waters 🌊

“What if my pectorals get bigger than yours?” 😏

Tengen immediately drowns you 🌊💀

“Not a chance.” 😐

And then he tacks on, a tad nicer, “But you could certainly get very big pectorals.” ☺️

“Just not bigger than yours,” you grin 😏

He nods grimly, “My ego would pop.” 😔

“And that would be tragic.” ☹️

“Indeed,” he squeezes your hands (which remain splayed across his chest), still basking in your touch, “I appreciate your understanding.” 😖🥰

(fyi, if your pectorals did get bigger than Tengen’s, then he’d: survive, be super proud of you, and beg to know your workout regimen)

[hearts4golbach]

Hey can I request y/n surprising Billie at the Grammys? Thanks

Double-Winner.

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader.

a/n: sorry this is so short, i had no clue how to fulfill this tbh but i tried my best! hope you like it x

"bil, for the last time," I sighed heavily, "im not going to be able to make it. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

billie whined on the other end of the phone, "it's not the same, ma."

I continued packing my suitcase. "I know, babe, but you know I have a huge meeting that I can not miss."

she grumbled, "I know." I heard water running and movement. "Wish me luck." she muttered as she began to brush her teeth.

"i'll be manifesting for you," i joke, walking to the bathroom to prepare my toiletries. "You're going to win the grammy." i reassure her.

i could hear her take a deep breath and sigh. "Yeah, hopefully. i think i should go to bed, big day tomorrow." she cheesed.

"Alright," i say dramatically. "If you have to."

she made a kiss noise, "i love ya."

"i love you too. Text me when you're up." i kissed her back before she hung up.

i checked the time on my phone, silently thanking billie for hanging up at the perfect time. i zipped up my suitcase and threw on my slides before walking out of the house. i double-checked to make sure the door was walked before i drove off towards the airport.

the cool winter breeze caught me off guard as i stepped out of my warm car. i dreaded all of the airport security traffic. it took me forever to get through everything, but i had finally made it on the flight that would take me to surprise billie.

i found out 3 hours before she called me that the meeting was canceled, and i decided i was going to surprise her. i booked the fastest flight and sound one that was perfect. i was surprised it was still available.

i sat peacefully on the plane, drinking Sprite and eating the iconic honey roasted peanuts. of course, i spent the whole time worrying over billies' reactions. would she be mad that i lied to her? i pondered back and forth, defending each argument for yes and no over in my mind.

the loud, robotic sounding woman over the speakers awoke me from my sleep. i rushed to get off the plane as i only had 2 hours to make it in time to see billie. i went to the nearest airport restroom and changed into my stunning dress that i had been saving for a really special occasion. it was a long, ruby red silk slip dress. it had a slit in the right legs and was long enough to trail behind me. i had straightened my hair before i left, and it had managed to stay intact. i did quick but elegant makeup and called my Uber.

the wait for the Uber was spent getting cat called by older men while waiting for billie to text me back.

me: How's your morning going, babe? i miss you

billie ❤️: it's going good, just doing hair and make up

billie ❤️: you?

billie ❤️: i miss you sm mama

me: just been thinking about you

billie: i gotta go get dressed, text you after ❤️

me: sounds goood

the Uber arrived and took me to my hotel room, which i had to rush to get ready since i was running late.

i basically threw on the dress that complimented hers, so i had enough time for makeup. luckly, i didn't like to do heavy makeup.

whenever i was finally done, billie texted me.

billie ❤️: god everything reminds me of how much i wish you could be here.

billie ❤️: theres an extra seat at the table for some reason

me: hm thats weird, dont worry, though i have the live video pulled up right now

i lied as i climbed into the Uber. i told the man my destination, and he began driving. butterflies were building up, and i couldn't wait to see her reaction.

i made it right in time, making it in time for the music related awards. i chatted with Lizzie Grant, one of my favorite music artists, as i waited for billie to leave the table so i could sneak in.

whenever they finally announced the first award for "what was i made for?" she got up and walked onto the stage.

i slid into my seat quietly, waving to finneas and claudia, who were in on the surprise.

i admired billie on stage. i was so proud of her. I couldn't contain it. a stupid smile spread on my face as i saw her bright smile on stage.

"Thank you so much. i really couldn't have done it without y/n and finneas. i love you too, and im so sorry you couldn't be here, baby." she blew a kiss to the camera, which i knew there'd be edits of later on.

she walked back, thanking all the people who congratulated her as she walked by.

she was only a few feet away whenever she made eye contact with me. her face lit up, and her smile grew. she ran towards me, pulling me out of my chair and capturing me in a tight hug. she peppered my face in kisses before finally meeting my lips. she held her lips on mine, and i didn't want her to pull away.

"You actually made it!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"How could i miss it?! my meeting got rescheduled, but i was planning on surprising you anyway. so everything worked out in the end." i explained.

"When did you get here?" she asked, her smile never fading.

"literally 2 and a half hours ago." i laughed, my arms snaking around her neck. "im so proud of you, bil."

"Thank you, mama." she pecked my lips once more, "i love you."

"i love you more." i smiled, "youre amazing. you deserve this so much."

billie went on to win another grammy. needless to say, we celebrated a lot that night.

[p1utofairy]

pick a card.

★ what makes you different from your person’s ex?

NOTE: hiii <3 i know it’s been a while since i’ve done pacs, but i just needed some time for myself and to balance my energy. i’ve missed you all so much and i understand that some of you really want personal readings for me (and soon i want to provide that for you) but in the meantime doing these pick-a-card readings is serving as practice for me – they help me get more comfortable with my intuition and enhance my tarot reading abilities/knowledge. i want to give y'all the most accurate and insightful guidance/advice 1 on 1 when i feel more prepared and have the time to do it. i hope you all can understand 🤗 your patience and support seriously means a lot to me. for now, i’ll catch up on some of the pac requests that have been sent to me. thanks for requesting this anon. 💌 enjoy!

PILE 1.

what makes you different from your partner’s ex is the fact that you are extremely dedicated to your craft and your own personal goals. right now you might be really yearning for a relationship or just craving some type of romantic spark in your life, but nonetheless you’ve been pushing through and staying focused on building yourself up and putting yourself on the right path. you have set standards, expectations and boundaries that you will not fold on - and your person will LOVE this about you. you’re no pushover. if something isn’t sitting right with you or someone isn’t willing to do/give you what you deserve, you know how to respectfully move on and find someone else that will; no matter how long it takes. you’d rather be single than to have someone by your side that you know isn’t truly fulfilling you and your needs. genie in a bottle by christina aguilera is coming to mind – “if you wanna be with me, baby there’s a price to pay! i’m a genie in a bottle, you gotta rub me the right way.” yeah trust me when i say that your person will go extra lengths to impress you and show you how serious they are about this relationship. i think that their previous relationship lacked the spark that you two share.

it also lacked the security, discipline and stability that you bring to the table; they’re willing to put the effort into this relationship. if i’m being quite honest their previous relationship seems like a non-factor, because in their eyes it could never hold a candlelight to what you two share. that one part in after hours by the weeknd just came to me, “cause this house is not a home…without my baby, where are you now when i need you most?” LOL they’re so devoted to you pile 1. the energy is kind of reminding me of allie and noah from ‘the notebook,’ one of the most iconic romance films of all time. don’t get me wrong, allie and noah’s love was far from perfect; it was messy, painful, and at times very selfish. however, it was THEIR love. it was full of passion and intensity and that’s the type of energy i pick up between you two. they would build a house for you with their own bare hands, like noah if you truly wanted them to. you bring out a side of them that their previous partner could never unlock.

you make them work for it and whew does it get them going lol they love the chase. if you teasingly tell them “no.” just to get a reaction out of them, they’ll be like “what can i do to change your mind?” and do the most seductive shit possible to get you all riled up and ready to pounce on them. you balance each other out very well and they’re different from the other types of people that have tried to pursue you before - it's gonna be refreshing. you might be a little hesitant to jump into this relationship because of your own doubts and anxiety around relationships (i’m hearing trust issues? daddy issues?) and this might cause you to keep this person at arms length even though you know you want to get closer to them. they’ll be respectful of you and your space, but just know that they won’t take advantage of your situation; if anything they want to help you work through it and be a supportive partner.

PILE 2.

the energy feels like something out of a whimsical fairytale, pile 2. you might’ve been split between choosing this pile and pile 1 (check that pile as well if you felt drawn to it) but wow your person feels like you came into their life at the perfect time. i’m not sure if either of you expected to come across each other in such a way that left you both feeling lovestruck! what makes you different from their previous partner is how much of a REAL lover you are. there’s a huge amount of optimism and a lust for life that you bring to this connection, which doesn’t quite compare to what they were used to. your love is purposeful and genuine – i’m picking up that some of you might have virgo/6H placements. just like magic by ariana grande just started playing, “just like magic, i’m attractive. i get everything i want cause i attract it.” you definitely manifested this relationship, pile 2. UGH YOUR MIND. it may have taken longer than you expected to come to fruition, but wow was it worth the wait.

they have this playfulness to them that you’ll really adore, it’s like they’re always trying to make you laugh and smile. their last relationship seemed like a bit of a burden on them. it caused them to turn inward and focus on themselves, however, their inner-child really thrives whenever they’re in your presence lol it’s so cute. it’s the little things like tickling your sides, kissing your neck/cheek and telling you silly jokes just to make you feel better and help ease any doubts and anxiety you’re feeling. you ground them in a lot of ways. you might be more mature than them, or they could be younger than you, but regardless, your energy feels more grounded and responsible. they might have felt powerless and restricted in their last relationship, feeling like they couldn’t really express themselves or be vulnerable for fear of judgment.

their ex might’ve involved their friends in a lot of their relationship drama which caused too much outside opinions to interfere with their relationship. that's one of the things that they appreciate about you: you don’t need outside opinions or validation to know what you want or how to manage this relationship. if there’s ever an issue, you will take the initiative to have a conversation with them and work it out; communication will be key in this relationship. their previous relationship lacked a safe space for them to express their emotions, but you are willing to communicate and ensure both of your feelings are taken into account within this connection. also, this person might have some sort of fame/social-standing/platform. it sort of feels like people keep tabs on who they’re currently dating/talking to. i will say that your person definitely values privacy and will try to keep as many people out of the mix as possible. this may not resonate for all, but don’t tell your friends everything about this relationship because some of them might be secretly thirsting over your person. they’ll be smiling in your face but behind the scenes wondering what it would be like to be with them, oof. some things are best kept private. remember that, okay!

PILE 3.

i feel a bit of a push and pull in this connection, pile 3. there’s friction here but it’s fiery and hot. your stubbornness is what makes you different from their previous partner lol they’re used to people falling for their charm and submitting to them – but not you. there seems to be a little bit of a romeo and juliet vibe here, like you two come from different backgrounds and technically y’all shouldn’t work but y’all just do. something clicks in you both whenever you’re around each other, and you spark a deep curiosity within each other. their last relationship was a “pain in the ass” i’m hearing lol wow. no matter what they did it was never good enough for their ex, they always found something to nitpick. i’m picking up that they argued a lot about finances in their previous relationship, your person may not have been in the financial position that they had hoped to be in but nonetheless they were working very hard towards their goals. this relationship with you is like a total reset.

ok so why did climax by usher just come on, “we’re together, now we’re undone. won’t commit, so we choose to run away. do we separate?” hm. for some of you, this might actually be an ex, but if that doesn’t resonate, i think there’s some sort of hesitation to commit here. emotionally and spiritually, you two just get each other, but when it comes to physically getting together and being an actual couple, you or this person finds a reason to cop out. there’s some sort of blockage from the past that’s keeping you from just saying, 'fuck it! let’s do it.' you've got to work through this, pile 3 (at your own pace, of course), because this person truly loves you. at times, you might feel a bit confused and unsure about their true intentions, but deep down, you know that this could work and they’re not as bad as you thought they were. some of this feels like it all could be cleared up with some good ol’ ✨communication✨ because you both have a lot in common, but you avoid talking to them about certain things.

someone in this pile could’ve recently just watched or is thinking of watching ‘anyone but you’ with sydney sweeney and glen powell lol cause the energy kinda feels reminiscent to their dynamic in that movie. you two could connect through friends and/or at a party. i can see either you or them overthinking this connection and creating unnecessary drama when all you both needed was a heart-to-heart conversation. drunk texting by chris brown ft. jhené aiko just came to mind, “got me feelin some type of way - told you i hate you, i don’t mean it. and the only thing that i got, is the pain that you been feeding.” ugh this person really wants to make you theirs pile 3 but the ball is in your court; they genuinely are trying to win you over.

PILE 4.

your person’s previous relationship did not end on the greatest of terms, oof. they’re still in the process of working through it, but they’ll never forget whatever it is that their ex did to make them call it quits. their ex might’ve cheated on them? idk they feel very betrayed and this energy of “ugh i can’t believe they did that” is heavy on them. their relationship with their ex was veryyy toxic and at the time of the breakup they might not have seen it this way, but it was definitely a blessing in disguise. love by keyshia cole just came to mind…damn. “i used to think that i wasn’t fine enough, and i used to think that i wasn’t wild enough.” their ex really had them second-guessing themselves. out of all the other piles, this one doesn’t feel quite healed from their past relationship. it’s not that they’re so much hung up on the person, it’s the situation that left a bad taste in their mouth. i keep hearing “how could you?” ugh poor baby. anyways, what makes you different from their previous partner is how genuine and attentive you are.

you may have just gotten out of a toxic situation yourself, and i see this relationship coming in at a time where you feel free from any negativity, burdens or worries someone (either romantically or platonically) was trying to place on you. this relationship is a fresh start for you and your partner. your person is very emotionally mature and super chill - it’s very hard to get them angry or riled up to the point that they’re screaming & yelling. that’s just not them, i’m hearing. some people might complain that they’re too nonchalant or dismissive, but that’s far from the case. your person is just aware that not everything deserves a reaction. you two will probably start off as friends first and then it’ll turn into a romantic relationship.

it’s interesting because your partner literally submerges themselves deep into their emotions, and you’re more of a ‘mind over matter’ type of person. you deal with things more logically and i think that’s one of the many things that they’ll admire about you; how you let things roll off your back and keep it moving. you give yourself time to process, understand and deal with your feelings, but then once you do, you’re right back to the grind. the dynamic between you and this person is reminding me of the movie ‘friends with benefits’ with mila kunis and justin timberlake. you both will click really fast! also, i’m picking up that you two might share a mutual friend and that might be how you two meet.

you give them hope and reassurance that love, GENUINE love, still exists. they might be a bit hard on themselves in the beginning of the relationship, but you will reassure them that they are more than enough and deserving of the love that you two share. loveeeeeeee song by rihanna ft. future just started playing, “and i hope i’m not sounding too desperate, i need love and affection.” whew! they’re gonna love them some you, pile 4. in their heart and in their eyes, nothing or no one will ever compare to you and the way that you love.

[bratzforchris]

Hi! I hope this isn't too weird, but I was wondering if you could write a fic where Matt is autistic? I see myself a lot in him and the podcast episode where they kept calling him "Miserable Matt" made me think about myself a lot. So maybe a fluffy hurt/comfort fic where he just gets tired of it because it's something he can't help and reader helps him through it with his special interests? It's okay if not! Thank you 💞

My Person, M. Sturniolo

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: In which the best cure for everything is cuddles and special interests<3

Pairing: Matt x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic meltdown, going nonverbal, Nick and Chris lowkey suck here 😭

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Thank you for the request! Please remember that my writing is fictional--I am not saying or assuming that Matt is autistic and I definitely don't think Nick and Chris would act this way in real life. It's just a story :) Now, please enjoy 💚

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

“Miserable Matt” this and “Miserable Matt” that. It was almost sickening the way he was constantly the target of Nick and Chris’s jokes. Deep down, Matt knew his brothers didn’t really mean any harm, but that didn’t make his feelings any less hurt. He never purposely tried to be sad or depressing when they were filming, it was just kind of the way his natural personality was. 

Being autistic, his voice tended to have a flatter affect than most people’s. Even when he was filled with autistic joy, his voice rarely got louder or higher. Usually, his brothers were quite understanding of his disability, always standing up for Matt and making sure he was treated fairly, but then there were days like today, where they were filming an episode for Cut the Camera, and Nick and Chris just couldn’t stop the jokes from rolling off their tongues. 

“I dunno,” Matt said quietly, but with a smile, fidgeting with his hands. “I just like to be alone sometimes. It gives me the creative freedom that I don’t always get from other people, y’know?” 

“Oh here we go again,” Chris snorted. “Miserable Matt back at again with his depression poetry.”

“That’s not poetry.” Matt grumbled, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. 

The triplets were currently discussing where they got their video ideas from, and how they stayed motivated to make content, even when they didn’t feel like it. Of course Chris and Nick had ‘normal people’ answers, like going out with friends or going on vacation. But being autistic, Matt didn’t recharge that way. He preferred to be alone to gather his thoughts and reset his mind. So of course, that was made fun of. 

-`ღ´-

“So, what do you guys think about the edits people make of you?” Nick asked. “Love or hate them?”

“It depends,” Chris shrugged. “Some of them make me think ‘Damn, I’m fine’, but others are kinda…weird. No offense, guys!” he threw his hands up quickly, smiling at the camera. 

“I like them. I think it’s sweet that someone takes time out of their day to edit me.” Matt smiled. 

“Yeah,” Nick groaned. “Cause yours are all sad and depressing and ‘poor baby Matt’ while a song from folklore plays in the background.”

“That is so not true.” Matt protested. 

“‘Poor Matt and his autism’ while some sad song plays in the background. You like it because it validates you.” Chris chuckled. 

“That’s not true!” Matt was starting to get teary eyed, but he couldn’t help it; he was sensitive. “Some of them are nice.”

“Miserable Matt’s gotta watch sad edits of himself to fulfill his aesthetic.” Nick laughed. 

All was silent for a moment, until Matt finally spoke, looking at his brothers with watery eyes. “Why are you guys so mean to me?”

“Matt, come on. We’re joking.” Chris rolled his eyes. 

“But it’s not a joke,” Matt whispered, avoiding their eyes. “You guys use me as the butt of the joke all the time. ‘Matt’s too quiet’, ‘Miserable Matt’, ‘Matt and his anxiety’. It’s annoying, okay?”

“It’s just a joke, Matt,” Nick tried to explain calmly. “We don’t mean any harm.”

“Do you? Because last time I checked, making fun of someone’s disability or mental health problems is harm.” 

“Don’t be like that, bro.” Chris tried to put a comforting, ‘olive branch’ hand on Matt’s shoulder. 

“No,” Matt stood up, throwing his headphones off. “I’m done. Finish recording without me.”

The boy quickly exited the room, leaving a stunned Nick and Chris in his wake. Matt didn’t usually lose his cool like that when he knew the camera was rolling, but he hadn’t been sleeping well lately and the last thing he wanted was a recording of him bordering on a meltdown. Even if it could be edited out, he really didn’t want that immortalized forever. They were embarrassing enough as it was. 

Matt retreated to his room, anxiously playing with the tangle that he kept in the pocket of his hoodie for when he needed a fidget toy. The calm, woodsy aesthetic of his bedroom relaxed him somewhat as he stepped inside his safe haven. It wasn’t enough, though. He needed someone who got it, who knew it was like to feel different. And so, he pulled out his phone, quickly texting you.

Matt: babe, can we go to the park?

You looked up from your book when Matt’s text came through. As an autistic couple, you had set up a ‘code word’ for when either one of you felt like they were on the verge of having an autistic meltdown, and that was Matt’s. You quickly gathered your things, speeding over to the triplets house as Matt sent you a flurry of texts, somewhat describing what had happened.

When you let yourself in with the key they had given you, Nick and Chris looked up, surprised by your entrance. “Where’s Matt?” You asked. 

“In his room.” Chris mumbled, not looking up from his phone. 

You didn’t have the energy, nor were you in the mood to deal with the boys right now, so you quickly pushed past them, hurrying up the stairs. “Can I come in, sweetie?” You asked when you reached Matt’s door, knocking softly. 

You were quite worried about the silence until your phone pinged with a text of mhm from Matt. You realized that meant that he was probably nonverbal at the moment, and you hastily let yourself into the dark room. Matt had drawn the curtains, turning on one small lamp with a soft, orange glow. Your boyfriend was huddled up under his weighted blanket, headphones on and softly stroking Mr. Wrinkleton’s fur. You let out a breath when you noticed that he seemed much more relaxed than when he had first texted you, but that didn’t stop you from missing the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

“Hi sweet boy.” You spelled into his palm as you softly set down on the bed beside him. 

Matt grabbed his communication cards off the nightstand, riffling through them for a moment, before he showed you the one that said ‘Can I have a hug?’. Without another word, you pulled your boyfriend into a deep pressure hug, knowing they were his favorites. They made his body feel perfectly aligned and usually helped calm him after a meltdown. After a moment, Matt pulled out of your grip, slipping his headphones off. 

“We don’t have to talk about it, hun. We’ll work it out with Nick and Chris later, okay? You just relax, baby,” You said gently. “Are you hungry, hun?”

Matt shook his head, grabbing your palm and spelling out ‘I just want you’ in your palm since he didn’t have a card for that. You smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek. This was one of your favorite parts about being a neurodivergent couple. You just got each other in a way that other people didn’t. You could sit in companionable silence and never feel awkward or bored. In your embrace of him, you noticed that Matt had slid a card towards you that read ‘Can we watch nature videos?’. 

One of Matt’s special interests and overall favorite things, was nature, but especially the forest and woodland animals. He could watch the soothing videos of the forest in its natural state for hours and not get bored, which had led you two to make a special card just for that when you were making his communication cards together. Your boy smiled as you stood up, grabbing the remote for his TV, before flicking it to one of Matt’s favorite, ten-hour-long videos of the forest and its animals on YouTube. 

“I love you, babe.” You told him as you both got comfortable under his large weighted blanket. 

‘I love you!!!!!’ Matt explained, showing you a card. 

The extra exclamation points had been at his insistence. He insisted that he loved you more than anyone else and needed you to know that. You couldn’t lie when you said that that had made you smile. You were each other’s first significant other, and Matt made you feel so completely special. Even now, as you laid here together, not speaking but cuddling as you watched videos of chipmunks and deer, you knew that Matt was your person. 

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @oobleoob @mattsfavwh3re @melguilbert @idek3000hi @faygo-frog @mayhem-72

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

LATE NIGHT

pairings — dick grayson x reader

warnings — talk of marriage, that’s really it, drinking wine (they’re both of age)

summary — during a particularly late night, you two find yourselves enjoying wine on your balcony together.

notes — guys can u all tell i’m totally in a loving and fulfilling relationship and don’t need to write what i wish i had

━━━━━━━ WHEN YOU ORIGINALLY MET Dick, you didn’t think much about him, but he managed to weasel his way into your life — you weren’t complaining in any aspect.

he was a sweet guy, in your eyes, and no matter how many other women threw themselves at him, he was all yours. you two, by now, had been together for years by now.

you understood the lengths of his job, he’d told you everything about his childhood, you knew his deepest fears, and he knew yours. you could’ve spent hours with him telling him every little detail about yourself.

you’d always been a supportive partner, you knew he wasn’t cheating, but it had been a scare all the nights he would leave and come home late or early in the morning.

it was a relief and a burden off your shoulder when he finally told you.

“hey, Dick.” you walked up to him, running your hands across his shoulders before up to his mask, gently removing it and peppering kissing all along his face.

grinning, Dick wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him. “hey, missed you.” he leaned fully into your touch, he was practically melted butter in your arms.

“missed you more.” you gave him a final, intimate kiss on the lips before tugging him into the kitchen. he’d missed out of dinner, so you had cooked for yourself earlier, and now you had cooked for him to come home to.

“now you gotta go change and freshen up, i’ll pour some wine.” you spoke in a soft tone, gently nudging him towards your bedroom. reluctantly, he changed and showered, and in ten minutes he was back out. you’d been letting the food rest on a low heat, and you poured his cup on wine when he came back.

“eat outside?” he gestured to the balcony you had connected to your house. you nodded, taking the small plate you had for yourself along with your glass and his glass. he took the bottle of wine.

you two sat at the small table and chair set you had out there, lighting a candle between you two and pouring wine. it was serene.

“one second.” you kissed his head, turning around and running inside, turning on her vinyl record of romantic songs loud enough to hear through their balcony door. sitting back down, you smiled at your longtime boyfriend.

“you look beautiful.” Dick whispered. you grinned in response, humming along to the music in the background.

“when we get married, we’re gonna run far away from Gotham. get outta the big city, maybe a different country.” he leaned backwards, admiring the idea of a future with you beside him.

“when we get married?” you smiled.

“when.” he confirmed. “you’re the only one i’d ever marry. no one else deserves a ring from me but you.” he muttered.

“i’d marry you too, baby.” you grinned. standing up and asking him to dance with you. he did.

you knew you’d marry Dick. it was like when you met, everything clicked and it all made sense. there was nothing to stop either of you from moving towards marriage — except death, which Dick went above and beyond to avoid.

“i love you.” you hummed, leaning into him.

“i love you more.” he responded, kissing your head carefully.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open

[dark-and-kawaii]

ok HEAR ME OUT your last raphael fic was magnificent and got me..thinking of things🫣 imagine him taking tav with him to the HoH after impregnating (if he hasn’t yet before), to always keep an eye on her progress and to f her whenever he pleases of course, worshipping her body like she’s a goddess as she grows

I may have gotten carried away with this, but I really enjoy Raphael and this request had me cooking for a while. It got dark near the end but we gotta remember this is still Raphael bahaha!!! Thank you for the love and support 🫶 I really hope you like this anon

Raphael - Pregnancy - Possessiveness - Death - Protectiveness - NSFW

Raphael’s world was turned upside down when he discovered that you were carrying his child- an heir that awakened an intense sense of ownership within him. Should anything happen to his child or you he’d rip every soul from every last being once he claimed the nine Hells. Consumed by these feelings, he had made the decision to bring you back to Hell with him, driven by a need to keep a watchful eye on your pregnancy's progress.

With each curve of your growing form, Raphael is both enraptured and possessively drawn to you. He admires your pregnant beauty as if you were a goddess, your radiance captivating and enthralling him. Unyielding desires surge through his veins, fueled by a hunger for power and utter control. Raphael sees your pregnancy as the ultimate manifestation of yours and his union, a divine creation meant to bring forth an heir worthy of his wicked legacy.

Walking through his House of Hope, Raphael's lustful needs called for fulfillment, and it was you he would seek out… Bypassing his personal incubus, Haarlep. Perhaps he’d come back to the fool once his child came to be in this world… As for now though, Raphael only wished to devour you whole and to watch you come undone on his cock once more while his hands rested on the swell of your stomach.

Your moans and pleasurable screams could be heard throughout the boudoir and into the grand hall of Raphael’s domain. He savored the way your voice grew louder, quivering as you urged him on, the rhythmic thumping of his bed against the wall getting faster as you bounced on his cock vigorously. His name slipping from your lips while you cum on his pretty cock for the third time that night.

“Always so eager to please me, rest now little mouse. You deserve it after such a riveting performance.”

With your head now rested on Raphael’s chest, your body coated in sweat as you slept soundly… He glides the tip of his fingers down your exposed flesh as Haarlep watches their master display a rare form of affection.

Haarlep, driven by their own carnal desires, could not comprehend the depth of Raphael's love for you. For you were only supposed to be tool for him to use. Has his master grown soft? Mocking and taunting, Haarlep belittles Raphael's affections for you, “A once lost thief in the night now held tight by the devil himself as if she were some precious treasure. How-“.

Raphael scrunched his nose with stern disapproval, he had enough of Haarlep’s impish behavior and warns his incubus, “If you aren’t careful dear pet you may find yourself hanging in the basement with our dear friend, Hope.” The devil made it abundantly clear that his love for you was to be respected and not ridiculed… Haarlep stayed silent, their tail resting on your leg- a sign that they know their place and will do their best to keep their masters lover safe when not around.

A deep laugh emanated from Raphael’s chest, “Good. I’m delighted that you’ve found sense again, I was worried there for a moment.”

Though as time went by Haarlep's mockery persisted, but Raphael's unwavering love for you remained true as your pregnancy progressed. He refused to let anyone, not even Haarlep, cast doubt on his devotion. With a immoral determination to protect you his beloved, and his unborn child; Raphael defended you against the jeers and taunts of Haarlep, showing that his feelings were not to be trifled with...

One morning you awoke to a strange coldness… Both Haarlep and Raphael were usually entwined with you each and every time you awoke… Yet, “Raphael,” you call out to him, nudging him attempting to wake him, “where is Haarlep?” The devil pulls you into him best he can without putting pressure on your stomach, his wings enveloping you, “You’ll be leaving with Korilla in an hour to Baldurs Gate. Make haste and get ready, you don’t want to keep her waiting.” You could hear the grin in his voice, “I expect a visit from my dear father, Mephistopheles and I rather you not be present when he shows.”

A chill runs through you with every word your fiendish lover speaks… Raphael wickedly confessing to you that he has taken the life of his incubus, no remorse or regret evident.

[thatanimewriter]

LOVE ME RIGHT.

➳ request: Hiiiii! Dunno if you’re taking requests but if you are- then here: maybe could you do JJK characters love language? If you don’t want to do all/some then maybe just Maki. Thanks you for reading! Stay healthy and safe<3

➳ character/s: itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, inumaki toge, zen'in maki

➳ warnings: mention of food (megumi)

➳ notes: omg the babiesss, i love this ;v;

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈.

receiving: physical touch, quality time

he will never deny a cuddle and will, in fact, ask for them every night

you just gotta sneak into his dorm, cause he hugs pillows or plushies probably, but prefers if it's you

he's sensitive about death because of everything that's been going on, so he wants to spend a lotta time with you

you both get fulfilling lives that way, and he feels secure knowing he didn't take you for granted

giving: acts of service, words of affirmation

your little butler omg, he would wait on you ANY TIME he can and will resist complaining about it

wants to make sure you KNOW you're treasured and will never let you doubt that

reinforces that message with the things he says about you, he's a compliment machine

would never give you up, let you down, run around and desert you, make you cry, say goodbye, tell a lie, or hurt you-

── 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈.

receiving: gift giving (??), acts of service

he's not a very materialistic person, but any HANDMADE gifts, he's keeping those til the day he DIES

appreciates the time you put in to doing something nice for him or finding something that he would like

similarly appreciates any silent affection like getting him his favourite drink without asking

or making sure he eats if he's busy training and might forget to in lieu of getting stronger

giving: quality time, acts of service

he's not one to shower you in flowery language or anything, but he'll enjoy your company and keep you company

likes to be near you, but you don't necessarily have to talk, he just wants you to know he's there and he'll listen

will also return favours like making your bed all nice in the morning or buying you things you're slowly running out of

he's just observant like that, you'd probably never know you're low on deodorant or something when he buys more before it's empty

── 𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀.

receiving: gift giving, words of affirmation

treat her like a princess and you're staying forever, no doubt in her mind

she loves a good shop, and bonus if she gets stuff she wants without paying herself-

likes being told how great she is and stuff, especially in moments of insecurity or fear

helps her feel less delulu about herself (or it could be you feeding into her fantasies just to see her smile-)

giving: words of affirmation, physical touch (??)

greatest hypewoman you'll ever have, the absolute number 1 cheerleader for you

makes sure you both feel like total icons as much as possible and will go so hard if you have a bad day

might reward you with a lil kiss, and she might feel the need to pamper you

probably not entirely clingy, but even just touching knees or being shoulder to shoulder is enough for her :))

── 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄.

receiving: physical touch, quality time

i feel like if you give him words of affirmation, he'd feel kinda shitty about not being able to say those things back

he likes just being able to spend time with you and enjoy your presence and the things you do together

little koala bear at night time, dude loves a cuddle and will hide his face in your neck

i hope you went to the bathroom before cuddles, cause you're not getting up any time soon

giving: physical touch, acts of service

a lot of wordless forms of expressing love, because he wants you to know he loves you so much but without cursing you

head pats and lil kisses galore, you'll never be touch starved with him around

will do stuff for you to show he loves you, especially stuff he hates, cause then you know he's down bad

yes he hates doing laundry, but he will do yours any time if you're too tired to do it

── 𝐙𝐄𝐍'𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈.

receiving: physical touch, words of affirmation

girlie is touch starved, but she doesn't HATE affection, she's just awkward about it

zen'in clan don't do affection, she's not used to it, but she's getting to enjoy the benefits of a hug

likes getting praise for things (also because of zen'in clan emotional constipation-)

an extra confidence boost that she didn't know she needed, but will happily accept, sometimes with a bit of a blush

giving: acts of service, gift giving

will do things for you to let you know she's got your back no matter what

also makes you realise how much she pays attention to you, because she does things you didn't realise you needed to do/wanted to get

gives you little trinkets that made her think of you on any missions she might go on without you

you're always on her mind, even if it doesn't seem like it, and the amount of little things you have from her is proof

[charliehoennam]

A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request. Subtle reminder that my ask open again! Tried my best to sum it up, hope you enjoy <3

Summary: Reader's a pub owner and fianceè to The Alfie Solomons. Turns out she's a bit more than just that.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: Language, Adopted!reader, not proof-read, I think that's it??

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Most people would have been nervous if Alfie Solomons strolled on into their area of business without any notice.

Everywhere he went, his most trusted and strongest lackies followed behind for protection. They were intimidating on their own, but Alfie's dominant presence was enough to make anyone mentally retrace their days, wondering if they'd made their weekly payment for protection or if they'd gotten in trouble with any of Alfie's clan.

You, on the other hand, were not like the others. You remained calm, cool and collected the minute he wandered into your pub.

Despite it being young to the busy street and small in comparison to the neighboring establishments, you had heard many things about Alfie. Only rumors, however, mostly from your drunk clients at the Glass & Barrel.

Some would argue that he was full of himself. Others would make remarks on how he was a form of savior with the jobs he'd given them. A few despised him with all their might for the beating he'd ordered onto them. Judging by what you knew of these specific clients, you knew it hadn't been for nothing.

It was early morning when you hear the doorbell chime. You could hear him mumble on as he looked around at the pub, but couldn't quite make out what he said.

You knew right away who he was. The hat and the cane were dead giveaways, but it was his demeanor that made it clear. And what he did for a living did not sway you in the slightest.

You had expected his visit for a while. It was just a matter of time that he showed up to explain how his method of security works. It was simple. You pay and his boys protect. Extra pay meant he'd place a strong lad in the pub to chase away any unwelcome, rowdy guests.

The first thing Alfie noticed about you when he walked in and sat down at the bar was how unfazed you seemed. He knew at the moment that you were a fearless woman and he admired that.

He assumed you had to be that way, given the dubious characters that milked the bottles from your shelves and the barrels in the basement.

However, there was still a sweetness in you that teased his curiosity. It made him yearn for a woman in such a foreign way that he hadn't felt since he was a young lad.

Since then, his visits became more and more often until you realized he was stopping by about two or three times a week. The funniest thing about his visits was that he never drank anything other than water. It was quite comical.

He enjoyed charming his way into your heart. Every visit consisted of laughter, taste-tests of his finest brews, playful flirting and him trying to convince you to go out on a date with him.

You resisted. Alfie knew that you wouldn't be easy. He could barely imagine just how many drunken fellas have tried their luck with you. The gun you hid under the bar wasn't for nothing.

In fact, your reservation made you all the more special.

He respected your pace and, every time you turned down his invitations, he didn't press you.

"I respect that, love. But a man's gotta try, right? Maybe one day I'll get lucky and you'll say yes."

And he was right. One day, he did get lucky indeed and you finally accepted one of his relentless invitations. However, you requested that it'd be during the day.

You told him it was because the pub made more money at night, but really, you didn't want to give off the impression that you'd be repaying him with sexual favors.

Not that you didn't want to. Alfie's ruggedness was just one of the many features that you admired. You were more than attracted to him, but you weren't the type to sleep with someone so early on.

It was an unspoken boundary, but Alfie understood you better than you could ever imagine. He didn't need to hear you say it and he never forced you or questioned you about it. Truth is he was willing to wait as long as he needed to because he knew it'd be worth the wait. Because something told him that you would be the one.

The chemistry between you and Alfie was naturally cohesive. He cherished every moment he got to spend with you. Every laugh and smile he teased out of you were trophies to him.

Your relationship grew into mutual petting and necking often stolen in secret at the opera, in the corners of fancy restaurants or in the convenient shadows at the pictures. It gradually grew to the point where you finally felt comfortable enough to invite him to spend the night with you.

Alfie was right. It was definitely worth the wait.

He made sure to take it slow as to burn every single second and touch of into his memory. He wanted to make it about you and your pleasure.

Every kiss of his lips burned into your skin. His beard scratched your soft flesh of your as his kisses trailed over your body. His greedy hands pulled and squeezed you tightly, aching to meld your bodies to become one.

He couldn't get enough of you and you couldn't bare to part from him. The softness of his hair when your fingers raked through it, his hairy chest brushing against your breasts and then your back, the moans and groans vibrating from the depths of his core. It was enough to have you addicted to him.

That night with you was unlike any night he'd ever spent with any other woman. There was meaning to this act, deep meaning. You were the woman he loved, the one he hoped to marry. You were the woman that had given him hope to become a father and inspired him to be a better man. Despite being a hardworking man, he felt the lost desire to have a home to return to. Suddenly, Alfie had hope for a future in which he wasn't alone.

Throughout the time he'd gotten to know you, he noticed how you always seemed to stray away when the topic shifted to your family. You didn't lie about them. You told him just enough to satiate to his curiosity that was entirely about your adoptive parents.

The truth was that you barely knew your biological family. You knew who they were - your loving adoptive parents had always been honest with you about your origins - and that you were indeed one of the legendary Shelbys of Birmingham.

You hadn't thought about them for a long time until your now-fiance Alfie was meeting with Tommy Shelby at the distillery.

At first glance, you didn't know who was sitting across from Alfie in his office until Ollie told you and asked you to wait.

You stood outside of the office, away from Alfie's sight. It was clear Tommy was in rough shape. You'd heard about the beat down; you were amazed to see him still walking.

If he recognized you, he didn't make it obvious. He only saw you on his way out of Alfie's office, but he simply walked past you and left the distillery without looking back.

An emptiness hollowed you inside after he left. You wondered if he knew who you were. You wondered if anything would've changed if you had told him. After all these years, you doubted he'd even remember he had a little sister younger than Ada. Granted he was older than you - you yourself didn't remember anything from that time - there was a small part inside you that had hoped he'd remembered, but you had finally been answered.

It'd been a couple of days since you saw Tommy at the distillery. Although it hurt a bit to know he hadn't remembered you, you accepted fate as it was and felt like you could finally put it behind you as if you had finally buried the past.

Until the devil himself walked into the Glass & Barrel, announcing his arrival with the doorbell chime. He paused for a moment and let his eyes scan the pub.

It was early in the morning with only a couple of your regulars: veterans of the war drinking away their sorrows, and Bubba: the large bouncer Alfie insisted to keep inside the pub.

You froze as you watched Tommy take a cigarette before sliding it across his lips to wet the bud. From the corner of your eye, you noticed how Bubba looked at him and sat up alert, instantly recognizing him.

Bubba was a tall man who had gained his nickname for seeming common and unthreatening. You'd seen him in action plenty of times dealing with the rowdy clients to know he was anything but. He could blend into the crowd just as easily as he could fend off four men at once. Bubba always loved a good fight.

You nodded at him to let him know it was alright. He opened his newspaper again, but his eyes stayed locked on Tommy from the far corner.

You treated Tommy as you would treat any customer and offered him a drink.

"Whisky, please," he answered as he sat in front of you at the bar.

"Brown or white?"

"Brown" he nodded watching you move behind the bar. "This place yours?"

"It is, " you answered setting a glass in front of him to pour his drink.

"Nice place... Decorate it yourself?"

"I did."

He nodded and a small sip of his drink.

"You grew up 'round here?"

"Around London, yeah. Moved a bit here and there, but always stayed in London."

"You know, I once had a little sister. She was taken away early from us. My poor mum, she did her best to raise us. We were a bit of a handful. Six in total... Last I heard about her is that she lives in London."

Tommy cradled the glass in his hand and admired the brown liquid, but he could feel your eyes burning through him.

You froze as the realization washed over you. It was no coincidence that he wandered into your pub. It was entirely intentionally.

"Runs her own pub. Seems like that tends to run in the family," he paused and eyed you with a steely steady gaze, as if he could see right through you. "Does he know?"

Tommy felt like he already knew the answer. Alfie would have most likely brought it up during their first meeting if he knew.

"No. I haven't told him. I don't feel it's necessary to."

"I can respect that. But it doesn't change the fact that you're still family."

"With all due respect, Mr. Shelby, I have a family."

"I'm just saying, that's all. If you ever need a hand, you know where to find us."

You didnt bother replying since he was quick to stand, snuffing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar.

He stopped just before the door to set his cap on his head before glancing at you one more time on his way out.

You felt Bubba's eyes boring a hole into you so you quickly moved about, getting back to work. There was no doubt he'd be telling Alfie about this little visit. Tommy's a wise man; Bubba knew his visit was no coincidence despite having not been able to hear your conversation.

The truth would have to come out.

Once Eddie arrived to take over the night shift, you made your way a few streets over to the home you and Alfie shared.

Unlocking the door, you walked inside to hang your coat up. But from the corner of your eyes, you could a familiar shadow standing by the fireplace.

Alfie was never home this early. The lack of acknowledgement to your arrival made you certain something was up.

"Alfie. You're home early," you smiled walking towards him.

"Yeah, I am. I had an urgent matter to tend to myself."

"I see..." you nodded as you slowly drifted over towards him over the wooden floor that now felt like eggshells. Had Bubba told him about Tommy's visit? Had word spread about your relation?

"I heard tommy Shelby went to see you today... Care to tell me what that was about?"

"Before I tell you, Alf, there's something you should know."

As he lifted his gaze from the warm fire, his eyes carried the same softness he heard in your voice.

"I never told you this because I never thought it'd be relevant. But the truth is that I was adopted when I was a child... From Birmingham. I was 12 when my parents told me I'd been a Shelby."

You paused, hoping for some sort of reaction from Alfie, but there was nothing that could hint at his reaction.

"I didn't even who they were until that day I went your office. To be quite honest, I didn't even think any of them remembered me. That's why he came to the Glass & Barrel, to tell me he knew it was me."

Unbeknownst to you, Alfie already knew the truth. There was a doubt in the back of his mind that questioned - if you did in fact know your biological family - where your allegiance would lay and, at this point, it was only growing within.

His doubt consumed him, slowly but surely, over the following days. Everything had changed.

You first noticed that Alfie started missing dinner. After you moved in together, he was always home for dinner.

The mornings you once used to treasure due to the breakfast you shared with him were shared only with the presence of Cyril.

Gone before you woke up and home after you'd fallen asleep.

This night, you decided you were not going to bed. Tonight would be the night you confronted him.

The exhaustion of the day was beginning to set in. Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to read your book, attempting to keep yourself awake.

Cyril, whose head was resting on your lap to be petted, snored peacefully. Blissfully unaware of your brewing angst.

Adrenaline quickly chased away and drowsiness you felt the minute you heard Alfie's car outside. It was now or never.

You waited for him to unlock the door and hang his coat up along with with his hat, still seated on the couch.

Alfie noticed the living room light on as he walked towards it and spotted you on the couch.

"Bit late, innit love? Should be in bed."

"Why are you avoiding me, Alfie?"

"No one's avoiding you," his foot was already on the first step of the stairs. Your anger quickly turned to tears as he proved you right.

"Then stay down here and face me, damn it."

Your hands trembled as you marched towards the stairs. Alfie stopped halfway up them when he turned to face you.

"I did not choose this, Alfie. I did not ask you be a Shelby. I did not choose the family I was born into. But if there's one thing I did choose was you."

Silences lingered heavily. His blue eyes stared down his nose at you. Your chest rose and fell with the adrenaline and flood of emotions coursing through you. As frustrated as you were, you didn't want to hate him. You couldn't if you tried.

Alfie hadn't thought about how his attitude would have affected you. He needed time to think. He trusted you blindly, but not knowing if your allegiance could change paralyzed him.

He watched how deeply emotional you were about his absence and realized that - the same way you chose to leave your biological family in the past despite knowing who they were - he needed to make a choice too.

He walked down the stairs until he stood before you.

"You're right, love," he nodded gazing into your tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry, yeah?"

His palm met your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you really think I would betray you, Alf?"

Your hands wrapped lightly around his wrists.

"For a moment, I wasn't sure if I'm not honest. Fuck, love. You gotta see from my side, yeah? Just wasn't expecting the love of my life, the apple of my eye, to be a Shelby. And that you knew."

"I didn't it mattered, Alf. I'm no Shelby. This is where my family is. In this house, here with you. I'm a soon-to-be Solomons."

"Right, you fucking are," he whispered wiping an escaping tear from your cheek.

"I choose you, Alfie. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, love. C'mere," his arms opened and welcomes you into his embrace. "I choose you too."

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

A humble request

I'm reaching out to the community for what may seem like a selfish reason, but something in my heart says that I gotta try. Asking for help is better than wallowing in sorrow.

My birthday is coming up next month, July 15. With the way things are going, this will probably be my first birthday spent alone, or at least, without mom (Unless things change radically, she won't be home by then or likely any time within the next few months) Now you gotta understand, I was born a year after my mom lost a child due to a deformity that is so severe and so rare, the baby never survives or makes it to birth. She wanted me badly, and while I struggle with that some days....I know I mean a lot to her.

Mom cared so much that she ALWAYS made Christmas and birthday special. She would fulfill my lists if she had the money (as I got older I grew guilty, and would often ask for less as years went on) and she always made sure I got something I wanted. Many times she would surprise me with gifts I didn't even know I wanted. Last Christmas, it was a beautiful coyote pelt. Do ya'll remember the btas scarecrow cake, or the handmade cupcakes with the fear symbol? She made those happen. She even paid to fly my brother (my hero) from Seattle to Kansas City for an event while I was taking classes at KCAI

I...don't think, unless dad gets me something, which he hinted he would but....I wont have that "special" surprise gift from mom. I could live without my amazon wish list, that's whatever. it's the way she always made that day matter that I'm going to miss. I'm crying typing this...

So, that's why I'd like to ask something of the rogues fandom

Could the artists, writers, crafters, creatives....come together and make sure that day isn't miserable? I'm not lying when I say I can count on my finger the days I've gone without crying or breaking down in someway since March. To put it bluntly and selfishly, I'm asking for some art, maybe a doodle of jon (or dm me for other characters I like!) or a little drabble about a headcanon I like. I wanna wake up on the 15th with my inbox full of love. I'm not asking for you to slave over photoshop for hours, but just something simple to make the day less depressing. When I told ya'll about my bad day and asked for positive messages, I woke up the next day with 20+ of them. That meant so much.

And all I want is to spend my birthday happy, and not in tears.

I'm sorry to sound so greedy....but y'all have shown me many times over, that internet strangers can show the most amazing amount love and care. And honestly, gift art would matter way more than physical things. Every single time you guys make me something, I save it to a gift art folder on my computer. I save every single thing.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Off and On Again

This fic will cover my "Do I have to take it off again?" square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card. The prompt will be in bold.❤️

Summary: When Y/N wants to hang on to Jensen's shirt he has a very interesting way of getting it back.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. All smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Slightly rough, unprotected PinV Sex. Oral (f. receiving.) Vaginal fingering. Slight orgasm denial (very light) and edging (sort of).

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,619

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. This one is a slight AU - Rockstar!Jensen. It came from a sort of request from @envyaurora95 who shared this pic with me. So, I stole this prompt to fulfill that sort of request. 😊 I'm sorry that this didn't turn out exactly as we'd talked about. Hope you enjoy it anyway, my dear. ❤️

A/N 2: As always, this is a different version of Jensen from within the Multiverse who is single. Absolute and complete fiction, of course.

The beautiful dividers used here are from @talesmaniac89

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she looked around the room, disoriented for a moment.

It was a hotel room.

Was it morning or…?

Reality came floating back into her brain slowly and she realized the clock on the nightstand read 8:04 PM. It was evening. Then Jensen walked slowly out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips, and she remembered everything. They’d met in the bar the night before, and he’d picked her up with barely more than a smile. 

They’d come back to his room and he’d spent all night making her fall apart over and over - he’d been insatiable and Y/N had woken up in the morning with aching muscles and a desperate need for even more of him. She’d convinced him to ditch the interviews he was set to do that afternoon, and they’d barely left the bedroom all day. She’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion a few hours earlier.

Jensen noticed her waking now and smiled at her from the foot of the bed. “Good evening, beautiful.”

It was beyond ridiculous to feel shy after everything they’d done together, but she blushed anyway. She had a feeling that there was something in his smile that would always make her blush.

“I was gonna wake you soon.” Jensen continued as he dropped his towel and stepped into a pair of dark blue boxer briefs. Y/N tried not to stare as he tucked himself away in the snug underwear. But fucking hell that man was…very...naturally blessed.

He spoke again as he slid on a pair of black jeans. “I’ve gotta get to sound check. But I hope you’ll come to the show tonight.” He thumbed towards the desk behind him. “I left you a ticket. Backstage pass.” He said with a wink. 

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yes, I’d love to come.”

His smile was soft. “Good.”

Y/N bit her lip and grabbed Jensen’s long-sleeved, black, denim shirt that sat at the end of the bed, pulling it on as she pointed towards the bathroom. “Gotta use the little girl’s room.” She said as she darted away.

When she came out a few minutes later, Jensen was fully dressed in his jeans and a gray t-shirt; he wore a watch on one hand and a couple of metal and beaded bracelets on the other, and a chain around his neck. His long hair was still slightly damp as he pushed it back off his forehead.

He was the sexiest thing Y/N had ever seen.

His smile was slow and sensual as he lifted a hand towards the shirt Y/N wore. “Gonna need that back now, sweetheart.”

Y/N arched a mischievous brow. “And what if I don’t give it back? Gonna make me?”

Jensen’s gaze became incredibly heated as he stared at her, slowly approaching her and forcing her to step backwards till she hit the wall.

“No, I won’t make you," he said silkily, "but if you don’t give it up, you’ll be sorry.” He said the last bit in a sing-song voice that made her giggle with anticipation while a shiver ran through her. 

“Really?” Y/N questioned cheekily. “And why is that?” 

Instead of answering Jensen pushed the sides of the shirt open, sliding his hands up over her ribcage to cup her breasts in both hands. He gently rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and Y/N gasped. They were extra sensitive after so many hours of Jensen’s mouth sucking and biting at them. 

He dropped his head to her left breast and licked the aching, slightly chafed bud, his warm tongue soothing and exhilarating at the same time. He let go of her right breast so he could slip one finger between her wet folds to circle her clit, making her moan and thump her head back against the wall. 

He sucked more purple marks into the soft skin of her breasts as he slid his thick middle finger into her body, making her cry out.

“Unf! Jensen, oh fuck, fuck!” She shouted as he pressed against her sweet spot.

He lowered himself to his knees and bent his head, dipping his tongue into her slick and finding and teasing her clit, flicking the tip back and forth against her. She bit into her lip, desperately trying not to scream out her need and brushing back the soft hair that fell across his forehead as he pleasured her.

She was on the brink, ready to topple over, all she needed was for Jensen to press against that sweet spot one more time. She was gasping and panting as she begged him to end her exquisite torment.

But suddenly he pulled back from her and licked his wet, swollen lips as he stared up at her, slick glistening on his beard and mustache. 

“Told you you’d be sorry, beautiful. Now give me my shirt back like a good girl, and when the show’s over, I promise I’ll let you finish.”

Y/N whimpered as Jensen stood up and wiped his hand over his mouth. He pushed the shirt from her shoulders and leaned down to speak low, breathing against the shell of her ear. 

“It’s gonna make me hard as hell onstage tonight, to know you’re watching in the wings, all wet and aching for me. Promise you won’t touch yourself? Wait for me.” He insisted and Y/N nodded, even though she pulsed with need.

“Good girl.” He praised as he shrugged into the shirt. He kissed her briefly and smiled against her lips. “See you after the show.”

***

The concert had been torture for Y/N. Watching Jensen onstage was like an hour and half of foreplay. Every note he sang and every move he made, shot fire straight to her core, making her muscles clench and ache from emptiness. She was so desperate to feel him move inside her again that there were moments she honestly thought she might come just from standing in the wings and watching him.

Finally the show ended and Y/N clapped and screamed with the rest of the fans as Jensen left the stage. Backstage was filled with clusters of people, managers, and backstage staff, VIPs and groupies, media personnel covering the tour; they all crowded into the limited space.

Jensen came through, with two big bodyguards on either side of him, pushing aside the groupies and media as Jensen smiled at them all and gave them a wave. But as he passed Y/N he grabbed her hand and yanked her along with him and she dashed a bit to keep up with his long stride. Finally he broke free of everyone and stepped through a nondescript black door. He pulled Y/N through it quickly and she was just barely able to recognize that it was a dressing room before Jensen slammed the door shut and spun her around to press her against it. 

He shoved up the short corduroy skirt she wore as he tugged her hips out towards him. He dug his fingers into her hips as he bent across her body and panted onto her shoulder. 

“I need to fuck you. Now. Say yes.”

“Fuck yes!” Y/N groaned. Jensen just pushed her panties aside so he could slam into her drenched cunt without hesitation.

“Ah fuck!” Jensen growled against her as he bit into the skin exposed by her off-the-shoulder sweater. 

Y/N pressed her forehead against the door and tried not to scream as Jensen slammed himself home again, angling his hips so his cockhead perfectly hit her sweet spot. But when he pulled out and did it again, Y/N couldn’t hold back, as the hours of denial and edging finally erupted in a seemingly endless climax.

As Y/N squeezed around him over and over, Jensen’s rhythm faltered and he thrust deep and hard one last time before shouting out his own pleasure and spilling into her, hot and thick.

Y/N knew they could likely be heard throughout the entire backstage area. But as Jensen slipped his hand around her hip to tap and rub at her clit, bringing on yet another mind-blowing orgasm as he finished, she couldn’t manage to make herself care.

***

The next morning Y/N was simply incapable of moving for a solid hour after she woke up. So, Jensen just ordered them room service and they ate in bed, sharing some more of their lives with each other and laughing and joking together. 

After a couple of hours of lounging and enjoying each other's company, Jensen had some phone calls he had to make and Y/N finally left the bed to go shower. The water felt heavenly and she was refreshed and far less exhausted when she stepped out. 

As she toweled herself off she noticed Jensen’s black, denim shirt hanging on a hook on the back of the door. With a smile, she slipped it on and did up a few buttons before walking back into the room. Jensen was just hanging up his phone and he looked up as she emerged. His eyes darkened and he lifted his phone, waving it slightly.

“That was my manager. I need to go downstairs and make up for all those interviews I skipped yesterday.”

Y/N pouted slightly but nodded, unbuttoning one of the buttons on his shirt. “Do I have to take it off again?”

Jensen stood up and stalked towards her. “Fuck no, I’ll do it.” 

He yanked the shirt open, ripping off a couple buttons. He kissed her deeply, and then pulled her forward to fall on top of him on the bed. “My manager’s gonna be pissed, but hey,” He shrugged and grinned wickedly, “it'll be worth it.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378 @mayafatimakhan @impala67rollingthroughtown @evznackles @suckitands33

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl @slamminmine @roonthelittlespoon920

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Sheo/The Nailsmith:

It's really nice because you unlock it after the nailsmith asks you to kill him with the pure nail and you refuse and walk away. He then says he was wandering hallownest without purpose until he found sheo who helped him discover that there was more to life than just one calling. These two are probably the only characters in the game to have a genuinely happy ending

The nailsmith loses his purpose in life after finishing his ultimate masterpiece, his lifelong goal, the pure nail. He requests the protagonist to try the nail on him, but If you refuse, he will find sheo who helps him to find new meaning in life and realise that there is more to life by teaching him different crafts. They can then be seen sculping figurines together, and sheo is also painting the nailsmith.They share a common love for art and crafts and inspire each other. Sheo's story is that he was a nailmaster, but got tired of it, and put down his nail to pick up a paintbrush. I think it's beautiful that he could help the nailsmith realise what he himself did. They both also used to live in solitude without even realising how lonely they were, and I think it's cute tuhat they can do art together now :]

They are two bugs retired from their career and making better lives for themselves and they’re gay about it. Nailsmith believes at first that he has nothing left after creating the perfect nail and asks the knight to strike him down, and if you don’t, he meets Sheo, a retired nailmaster finding a new calling in painting and sculpting. They find a shared love in creating things and Nailsmith finds a new calling in art as well. The achievement you get for uniting them is called “Happy Couple”

Gay bugs gay bugs gay bugs (Cw mention of suicide) They both used to pursue their one passion in life: forging the perfect nail (sword) for the Nailsmith and the art of combat for Sheo. Sheo realized he could just leave that life when he lost his passion for fighting, and he found himself a new purpose in life: art. However, he always seemed very lonely, completely isolated by all other bugs in his hidden house in the middle of a thorn jungle. When The Nailsmith achieved his goal and forged the perfect nail, he lost his purpose in life and his will to live. He asks the player to kill him. However, if the player refuses, he can later be found in Sheo's house, modelling for Sheo or sculpting figurines with him. He thanks the player for not fulfilling his request, because he has found a new calling in life here, making art together with Sheo. They both express how happy they are to no longer be alone. This also gives you the "Happy Couple" achievement, confirming that they are a couple.

THEY'RE CANON!!! They're fucking canon!!! You can talk to them at one point after doing a Bunch of Stuff to get them to meet each other and you get an achievement called "Happy Couple"!!! Gotta love old man yuri

Jean-Luc Picard/Q:

theyre kind of the ogs. q fucked that old man for SURE. if they arent old enough for you in the next generation (1987-1984) they probably will be in picard (2020-2023). also when i went looking for the pic i included i googled “star trek picard q in bed” and there were actually multiple different instances of that happening that popped up

um it’s unclear what age Q is supposed to be in TNG but in Picard they’re both undeniably old as balls. Q has godlike powers that he just uses to hang out with this bald old man in increasingly strange and annoying ways. And call him “mon capitane” like a freak and materialize next to him in bed and say Good Morning Darling and lounge all over the Enterprise like a fruit anyways I think they’re abnormal and I like them

what if you were an all powerful nearly omnipotent being who has been worshipped as a god on planets across the farthest reaches of space and the first guy to just not give a shit about you makes you fall madly in love with him

I can’t get my thoughts clear right now but they mean so much to me. They’re meant to be with each other ok. the sequel to spirk. they would be canon if paramount werent COWARDS

if I were an entity as old as the universe itself and I kept visiting some old guy on a spaceship trying to justify the existence of humanity it would 100% be for gay reasons and Q understands this concept on an intimate level actually

[wannabehockeygf]

Good Graces | Conor Garland

"With your favorite athlete, Shoot his shot every night, Want you every second, Don't need other guys."

request: "I was thinking of a fluffy fic between him and a fem!team medic who he is good friends with because of how often he ends up getting hurt, putting himself in the middle of scrums and everything. I know that's kind of just a general premise, but I wanted to leave it up to you where you want to take it from there :)" summary: two times conor wanted to kiss you, and one time you kissed him.

word count: 5.3k

pairing: conor garland x fem!reader

warnings: blood & injury

notes:

hiiii welcome & thanks for requesting. hope I fulfilled your wishes!

i don't know much about garland but I love making players divas so I inserted that here lmao :3

keep requesting new & different players guys!! i love doing it.

You signed your contract for your job with one goal in mind–don’t fall for a hockey player.

Pretty easy, right? Especially since, as a team medic, you largely dealt with them all sweaty, bloody, and generally in a state of chaos. Not attractive at all. Definitely not. Yet here you are, hovering over him again.

Conor Garland, number 8 on the ice and, in your opinion, number one in "most likely to get into a fight over nothing." You fold your arms as he limps into the med room, wearing a ridiculous grin despite the cut above his eyebrow. “That bad, huh?” he teases, his voice holding that familiar playful edge. He’s pretending to wince as he climbs onto the exam table, like it’s a whole ordeal for him.

You roll your eyes, but you’re already reaching for the gauze, your hands moving on autopilot. “You know, if you stopped fighting for five seconds, you might actually get through a game without needing stitches.”

He chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with something else. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a little too relaxed, too content, considering he just came off the ice. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You look up at him, raising an eyebrow, but the sight of him smiling, like he’s enjoying himself a little too much for someone who’s supposed to be injured, throws you off. He’s been doing this a lot lately, showing up with bruises and cuts that could’ve been avoided. You’d never say it out loud, but part of you suspects he’s getting into these scrums on purpose.

His eyes flicker to yours, just for a moment, before he quickly looks away, feigning a deep interest in the ceiling. “What?” you ask, crossing your arms again.

“Nothing,” he says, far too quickly.

Right. Sure.

You press the gauze to his eyebrow a little harder than necessary, and he winces, though you can’t tell if it’s real pain or exaggerated for your benefit. You narrow your eyes. “Stop squirming.”

He gives a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at your lips. There’s always this easy back-and-forth with him, like the two of you have fallen into some unspoken routine. You patch him up, and he finds new ways to annoy you, all with that same boyish grin on his face.

You finish dabbing at the cut, the soft pressure of the gauze soaking up the blood that’s already drying around the edges. As you work, the steady rhythm of your movements almost feels too comfortable, like this is the hundredth time you’ve patched him up—because, well, it probably is.

"Conor," you murmur, half to yourself, half in warning, as you reach for the antiseptic. His skin smells of sweat and ice, a mix that’s become weirdly familiar, like the scent of the rink itself but so uniquely him.

He tilts his head a little, trying to catch your eye, but you focus on the task at hand, avoiding the gaze you know is waiting for you. Your fingers brush against his temple, and for a split second, you swear you feel him tense up under your touch. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual casual grin.

“You gotta stop doing this,” you sigh, and it comes out softer than you intend. The antiseptic stings as you swipe it across the cut, and he flinches again, though not as much as he should.

“Doing what?” he asks, his voice low, almost playful. He’s watching you again, those brown eyes darkened by the fluorescent lights of the med room.

“This.” You gesture vaguely at his face, at the various bruises and cuts that seem to accumulate each time he steps onto the ice. “Getting into pointless fights. You think I don’t notice? You’re not even supposed to be a fighter, Conor. Half the time, you’re chirping at guys twice your size. Why?”

The silence between you stretches just long enough to make you uneasy. You feel the weight of his stare, the slight twitch of his mouth like he’s holding back from saying something.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something else behind the movement, something unspoken. “Part of the game, right?” he offers, too nonchalant, like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t buy it, not for a second. But what are you supposed to say? Call him out directly? Admit you’ve noticed the way he lingers around the med room a little longer than necessary, how his smile stretches wider every time he manages to make you roll your eyes? It feels too much, too real, to acknowledge the way your heart stutters just a little when you hear his name over the PA system.

You sigh again, grabbing the butterfly stitches and nudging his chin up with more force than necessary. His skin is warm, too warm for someone who just came off the ice, and you have to focus hard not to notice the way his jaw clenches under your fingers.

“You’re gonna end up with a permanent scar if you keep this up,” you say, and there’s a softness in your voice now, one you can’t quite hide. The words come out before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, and the quiet stretches on again, filled only by the sound of your breath and the subtle scratch of fabric as he shifts on the exam table. Then, his voice cuts through the stillness, quiet but sure.

“I don’t mind it,” he says, and it takes you a second to register what he’s talking about.

You blink, pulling back slightly to look at him. He’s still smiling, but there’s something different in his expression now, something that catches you off guard. “What?”

“The scars,” he says, shrugging again, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t mind them. Means I get to see you.”

Your heart does a ridiculous little flip at his words, and you curse it for betraying you so easily. You try to play it off with an eye roll, but you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “You could just... I don’t know, say hi like a normal person instead of getting into fights?”

He chuckles, but the sound is softer now, almost fond. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You press the final stitch into place, leaning back to assess your work. His face is still bruised, still battered, but somehow, he looks completely unbothered by it all. And the worst part? You can’t help but think he looks good like this, even with the mess of bruises and dried blood.

As you’re cleaning up, you feel his eyes on you again, watching with that same stupid grin, like this is all just some kind of game to him. But there’s something else in the way he’s sitting, the way he’s still lingering on the table long after you’ve finished patching him up.

“Are you just going to sit there?” you ask, pretending to be annoyed, though you know the act isn’t fooling anyone.

“Maybe.” He leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, looking far too comfortable for someone who was limping in here five minutes ago. “Depends. You gonna kick me out?”

You roll your eyes, but your chest tightens at the implication, your heart doing that traitorous little skip again. You turn around, crossing your arms, meeting his eyes this time. He’s sitting there, propped up on his elbows, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. And maybe that’s what’s been throwing you off lately—the way he looks at you. Like these moments mean something more to him than just routine check-ups and bandages.

“Conor,” you say, and this time, your voice has more weight to it, though you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re really thinking. Instead, you gesture toward the door, trying to salvage the situation with a teasing edge. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really,” he shrugs, still not moving. “Besides, where else would I go? The ice isn’t as fun as this.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, though it’s a losing battle. He’s always had this way of disarming you with a few words, like he knows exactly how to find that crack in your armor.

“Well, you can’t stay here,” you say, but there’s no real bite to your words, and you both know it.

He swings his legs off the table, wincing slightly—more from habit than pain, you suspect—and stands up, but he doesn’t head for the door. Instead, he lingers, too close now, and you find yourself staring at the small cut above his eyebrow, the one you just stitched up. Your fingers itch to brush it gently, to make sure you did it right, but you keep your hands firmly crossed in front of you.

“I think I’m fine now,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Thanks, doc.”

The nickname always makes you smile, even when you don’t want it to. “You’re welcome,” you reply, but there’s a softness to your tone that wasn’t there a moment ago.

He takes a step closer, and the room suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker. For a second, neither of you says anything. His eyes search yours, like he’s trying to read something in your expression, something you’re not even sure you understand yourself. But whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it—at least, not yet.

“I’ll try not to get into too much trouble next game,” he says with a smirk, though there’s a warmth behind it, something genuine. “But, you know, no promises.”

You shake your head, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course not.”

He starts toward the door but pauses just before stepping out, his hand resting lightly on the frame. He turns back to you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

“Hey,” he says, and there’s no teasing in his voice this time, just something real. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

You nod, swallowing the lump that suddenly forms in your throat. “Just… try to keep yourself in one piece, okay?”

He grins again, that easy, boyish grin that somehow makes you forget for a second that he’s a professional athlete, bruised and battered from a game most people would never survive. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’ll be back sooner rather than later.

Another game, another set of bruises.

You’re halfway through patching up another player when you feel it—his presence, the familiar, teasing energy he brings with him. Conor walks into the med room, limping just a little too dramatically to be real. He’s cradling his arm like it’s hanging by a thread, his expression an exaggerated picture of pain.

“Doc, I think this might be the one that does me in,” he says, his voice a mockery of seriousness. The guy you’re helping, one of the newer players, snorts in response, shaking his head as he slides off the table.

You shoot Conor a glance over your shoulder. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Garland.”

The younger player leaves, chuckling under his breath, and suddenly it’s just you and Conor again. You can feel the shift in the air, like it always does when it’s just the two of you. The playful banter, the teasing looks, that undercurrent of something unspoken hanging between you like a thin thread.

You turn around, and there he is, still putting on that ridiculous act. He’s cradling his arm as if it’s broken, but the glint in his eye gives him away. “Oh, I’m sure you’re in agony,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Conor leans against the table with a dramatic sigh, giving you a pained look, as if he’s the one who should be annoyed by all this. “It’s bad, doc. Might need surgery.”

“Surgery, huh?” you quip, folding your arms as you walk over to him. Your eyes roam over his jersey, scanning for any real signs of injury, but all you see is his usual scruffy, disheveled mid-game self. “I can’t really check if you’ve got something serious going on with all that gear.”

He raises an eyebrow, still in character. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone casual, but there’s a hint of something else in your voice now. You tap his arm gently, feigning impatience. “Take off your jersey if you’re so hurt.”

For a split second, the playful energy between you shifts. His teasing smirk falters, his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place, and suddenly, Conor’s posture straightens. The banter evaporates, leaving only the echo of your words hanging in the air. His hands hover near the hem of his jersey, clearly caught off guard by your request.

He stares at you like you’ve just asked him to do something much more intimate than you intended, and it takes a moment before he recovers his composure. “Uh… right. Yeah. Okay.”

You watch as he hesitates, tugging at the fabric, trying to hide the way his fingers fumble with it. And for once, he’s flustered—really flustered. It’s not the usual Conor Garland confidence or playful bravado. His face is flushed, the pink creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, and you can’t help but find the sight... oddly endearing.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this, but you are.

He finally manages to pull the jersey over his head, tossing it aside without meeting your eyes, and you catch the briefest glimpse of the toned muscles under his shoulder and chest pads, the faint sheen of sweat from the game still clinging to his skin. You swallow hard, trying not to let your mind wander too far as you force yourself to stay professional.

You step closer, eyes focused on the faint bruise blooming across his ribs, though it’s clear he’s milking the situation. “This?” you ask, pressing your fingers gently against his side. “You came in here for this?”

You stare at the bruise, your fingers resting lightly against his skin. It’s small, nothing serious—a faint discoloration, more from the impact than anything worth worrying about. But you both know this isn’t about the bruise. It never is with Conor.

You don’t pull away, and neither does he. There’s a moment of quiet, the banter fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this strange, charged silence. You can feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The tension in the room shifts, thickening like a storm cloud.

“You really thought this was worth all that drama?” you murmur, your voice soft now, not teasing, just… there. You trace the edge of the bruise absently, the pads of your fingers barely brushing against his skin.

Conor swallows, and you catch the movement of his throat, the way his eyes flicker down to where your hand rests on him before darting back to your face. His voice is quieter when he responds, less of that exaggerated confidence he usually carries with him. “Well, I figured… might as well get some attention while I’m at it, right?”

You don’t miss the way he says attention, how it lingers between the two of you, a little too close to the truth. Your heart skips, your pulse quickening in a way you hope he doesn’t notice.

But he’s staring at you now, the teasing smile faded, his brown eyes more serious than you’ve ever seen them. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, but in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. Like something is about to happen, something you’ve both been tiptoeing around for too long.

Your hand is still on his side, your fingers barely moving, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he’s watching you like he’s waiting for something. Maybe you are too. The room feels impossibly small, the space between you shrinking with each breath.

“I… probably shouldn’t have made you take off your jersey,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, a weak attempt to break the tension, to say something, anything, that might diffuse whatever’s building between you. But even as you say it, you don’t pull away.

He doesn’t either.

“Nah,” he replies softly, his voice lower now, the usual playfulness gone. “It’s fine.”

You’re not sure if he means the jersey or the way your fingers are still pressed against his ribs, or maybe both. Either way, the tension doesn’t break. It only tightens, drawing you both closer without either of you moving an inch.

You can feel your pulse in your throat, your breathing shallow, and for a split second, you let your gaze drop to his lips. It’s a brief, unconscious movement, but it’s enough. He notices.

Conor shifts, barely perceptibly, but you feel it—the subtle lean, the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. Your heart pounds, the room spinning around the two of you like everything else has fallen away. You’re not even sure how you ended up here, this close, this vulnerable, but the pull is undeniable.

Your hand slides down slightly, resting at his waist now, and his breath hitches. You feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body seems to react to your touch, and for a second, you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment you’ve both been avoiding for so long, the moment where everything changes.

His lips part, and your breath catches. You’re so close now, close enough to feel the heat of him, to see the soft curve of his mouth, to—

The door creaks open behind you, and the spell shatters.

You both freeze, the tension shattering as one of the assistant coaches pokes his head in. "Hey, Garland, you still in here?" The coach looks between the two of you, oblivious to what he just interrupted.

Conor jerks back so quickly it’s like he’s been caught doing something illegal, while your hand falls from him. His face flushes, but not from the game—this time, it’s from almost being caught in a moment he’s not ready to explain.

"Uh, yeah," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Just, uh... icing my bruise."

You bite back a laugh, feeling the heat rise to your own cheeks. The moment is gone, but the weight of it lingers in the air.

"Well, hurry it up. Coach wants to talk to you before you head out," the assistant says, already halfway out the door.

You both stand there for a second after the door shuts, the silence deafening. Conor looks at you, the tension still simmering under the surface, but neither of you speaks. It’s like the almost-kiss is still hanging between you, unfinished and waiting.

Finally, Conor clears his throat. "Guess I should... go."

"Yeah," you say, forcing a smile. "Guess so."

He hesitates, lingering in the doorway for a second longer than necessary, his eyes catching yours one last time. And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the weight of what almost happened.

You’ve been replaying what happened in your head, the way his eyes lingered, the warmth of his skin under your touch, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. It’s like a loop that you can’t quite break free from.

But now, that moment feels distant, swept away by the frenetic energy of another game night. Only this time, it’s different.

The door slams open.

You jump, turning on instinct, and what you see makes your heart plummet. Conor’s standing there, but he’s not limping theatrically this time. Blood runs down the side of his face, stark against his pale skin, dripping onto his jersey, which is streaked with snow and sweat. His eyes are wild, his chest heaving, and for the first time, there’s no playful glint, no teasing smirk. Just anger.

"Garland," you breathe, stepping toward him, already reaching for the gauze, but he doesn’t even seem to hear you. He’s pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscles working beneath his skin.

"Stupid," he mutters under his breath, swiping a hand over his face, smearing the blood. "Stupid, stupid hit."

"Conor," you say softly, trying to get him to focus on you, to stop moving. He doesn’t. His eyes are unfocused, his movements erratic, as though he’s still stuck in the heat of the game, reliving whatever hit sent him flying into the boards.

You step closer, cautiously. "Hey, come on. You need to sit down. Let me look at that cut."

He finally stops pacing, but when his eyes meet yours, they’re blazing. "I don’t care about the damn cut," he snaps, though the anger in his voice isn’t directed at you. It’s frustration, bubbling just beneath the surface.

You swallow, trying to maintain your calm. "I know you don’t, but I do."

He blinks, his brows furrowing, like your words hit something in him, pulling him out of his angry haze. But then he shakes his head, as if he’s trying to brush it off. "They’re out to get me," he mutters, more to himself than to you, but you hear it.

Your chest tightens. You’ve seen him frustrated before, of course. Hockey’s a brutal game; it comes with the territory. But this… this feels different. Conor Garland is many things—annoying, playful, sometimes overly dramatic—but angry? Not like this. Not pacing the room with his hands curled into fists like he’s ready to punch the wall. You have to do something—anything—to bring him back to himself before he loses it completely.

"Conor, sit down," you say again, firmer this time. "Please."

Something in your voice must reach him because he stops, his shoulders slumping as if all the fight has gone out of him in an instant. He sits on the edge of the exam table, and you move quickly, grabbing the gauze and antiseptic. His eyes follow you, but they’re distant, like he’s not fully present.

You stand between his legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, and gently tilt his head back to get a better look at the cut. It’s deep, angrier than you expected, but not the worst you’ve seen. Still, the blood has matted his hair, trailing down his temple, and his breathing is shallow, labored.

"This might sting," you murmur, pressing the gauze to his forehead, dabbing at the blood. You try to stay focused, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his body coiled tight like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.

"That guy…" he starts, voice low and bitter. "He didn’t have to hit me like that. It wasn’t even about the puck."

"I know," you say quietly, your fingers moving methodically as you clean the wound. "It’s not fair."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You focus on your work, but every so often, your gaze flickers to his face, to the way his jaw is still clenched, to the way his chest still rises and falls with that uneven breath. You can feel the anger radiating off him, but there’s something else too—something vulnerable, hidden beneath all that frustration.

"Why are you letting this get to you?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conor doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is fixed on some distant point over your shoulder, like he’s trying to hold it together, trying not to snap. But then his shoulders sag, and he drops his head into his hands. "I don’t know," he admits, voice muffled. "I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much."

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling your heart ache for him. You’ve never seen him this rattled, this shaken. It’s unsettling, seeing him like this, and you don’t know what to do other than be here, right here, in this moment with him.

Gently, you reach out, resting a hand on his shoulder. His skin is warm, muscles tense beneath your fingers, but the contact seems to ground him. He lifts his head slowly, meeting your eyes for the first time since he walked in.

"It’s just… one hit," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But I can’t shake it."

"It’s not just the hit, is it?" you ask, watching him carefully.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "No. It’s not."

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You finish bandaging his cut, your hands moving slowly, deliberately, trying to draw out the process because you’re not ready for this moment to end. You don’t want him to walk away like this, all pent-up frustration and unresolved tension.

He’s quiet now, his chest no longer heaving with anger, but his eyes—his eyes are still filled with something heavy, something you can’t quite place. He’s staring at you, and you can feel his gaze, warm and intent, as though he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. You’re not sure if you’re ready to hear them anyway. Your pulse thrums in your ears, loud and persistent, and for the first time, you realize how close you’re standing.

You clear your throat, suddenly aware of how his legs are framing your hips, how his knees brush your thighs every time either of you moves. His hands rest loosely on his lap now, no longer clenched into fists, but the tension hasn’t entirely dissipated. It’s just shifted into something else, something quieter but no less intense. You can feel it humming in the air between you.

"Conor," you begin, your voice coming out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper. "You’re… it’s going to be okay." You know how inadequate the words sound, but you don’t know what else to say. You just want to fill the silence, to soothe whatever storm is still brewing inside him.

His eyes flicker, and his jaw works as though he’s chewing on something he can’t quite get out. "I’m not—" He stops himself, eyes dropping to the floor, and you watch as his shoulders slump again. "I don’t usually… I’m not like this."

You don’t respond immediately, just watch him, the way he avoids looking at you, the way his hands flex on his lap like he’s resisting the urge to reach for something. It’s strange seeing him so out of sorts, the guy who’s always cracking jokes, always looking for a way to make you laugh, now sitting here, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

You take a breath and move closer, letting your fingers brush against his shoulder again. "You don’t have to explain anything to me. Everyone has bad days." Your voice is soft, reassuring, but your heart is pounding harder now, louder, as if it’s trying to force its way through your ribcage.

Conor looks up then, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze isn’t wild anymore, but there’s something else in it, something that makes your breath catch. His lips part, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to say something, something that will change everything.

But he hesitates, his throat working like the words are caught there, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the closeness, of the heat between you, of how your bodies are aligned. You don’t move, don’t dare to, because if you do, you might shatter whatever fragile balance you’ve found.

"I don’t know how to say this," he finally mutters, his voice rough and low, almost pained. His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second, and your breath stutters.

Your heart is racing now, louder than before, and you can feel the room tilting, your pulse in your throat as the tension pulls taut. He’s so close, his face inches from yours, the scent of sweat and blood mingling in the air between you, and you realize with a jolt that this is it. This is the moment where everything shifts, where the teasing, the faked injuries, the lingering touches, all of it finally snaps into focus.

Conor shifts again, his knee pressing slightly against your thigh, and his voice drops even lower. "I’ve been trying to tell you, but I—" He stops, his eyes dark and searching, like he’s looking for something in your face. "You’re more than just… I mean, I’m always…"

You don’t let him finish. Because before you know it, you’re moving, and you’re pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you’re both unsure. His lips are warm, and you can taste the faint tang of his blood on them, but you don’t care. For a moment, everything stills—no tension, no frustration, just him, here, with you. His hands, which had still been clenched on his lap, slide up to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The anger, the frustration that had been radiating off him moments before, melts away, replaced by something softer, something unspoken but understood.

When you finally pull back, your breath comes in short, uneven bursts. You meet his eyes, half-expecting him to pull away, to say something to ruin the moment, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” he mutters, his voice low, teasing, but there’s a softness there too, a warmth you haven’t heard from him before.

You can’t help but laugh softly, your heart still racing. “It worked, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just looks at you, his eyes darker now, softer. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze flickers down to your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of you, like nothing else exists outside this room.

For the first time all night, he smiles—really smiles—and it’s like the tension finally breaks. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. The frustration, the anger, the game—it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels fragile but perfect, like you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were looking for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and his eyes soften, the vulnerability still there, but less jagged now, smoothed by your words. “But you need to go out there and win that fuckin’ game.”

“Okay,” He says, but leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, this one slower, gentler, as though he’s savoring it. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek, and his smile lingers, the tension from earlier now a distant memory. “But, we’re doing a lot more of this–” he gestures between the two of you, “Later.”

[goldenchunkycat]

Dirty things Neteyam does that you like

[He do or he does ? Hm, nevermind...

Neteyam is aged-up unless stated otherwise]

Being kind. Like I'm sorry but it's a big turn on. He smiles to everyone, helps everyone, he is honest, fair, brave; he always listen carefully to everyone requests and do his best to fulfill them. He's a sweetheart and he has a pretty smile. So why are you aroused every time you see him help an old Na'vi ? Why are you horny everytime you see him help his mother cook ? Because you knoooow. You know that the boy isn't like this when it's just the two of you. Don't get me wrong he's a darling with you, always helping you around, carrying you on his back and making you laugh. But when it comes to more...suggestive things, he's MEAN. I just know that he is a mean dom. The kind of guy who will make you cry after teasing you endlessly without giving you his dick and then fake sympathy. So when you see him being nice to everyone you just remember how mean he can be when he is fucking you.

"Oh, my love, crying over my dick. You poor baby."

"My sweet girl, do you want it ? I'm gonna give it to you. Or not..?"

That boy love to pull something while fucking you. He ALWAYS have something in his hand. Like that one time where he was pulling your tail while fingering you, or when he was pulling your hair while you two were making out. Oh ! And when he was pulling your arms while fucking you from behind - this one isn't your favorite but he really likes it. He needs to pull on something because your reactions are so cute ♡ You whimper, pant, moan, and sometimes, when it's too much, you cry. He loves those sounds and he loves the fact that it brings him a feeling of power (?) ♡

"What ? Am I pulling it too hard ? But your tail was practically begging to be held, it was wagging so frantically."

"Love it when you're so malleable."

PRAISES. You should love praises. I just KNOW that Neteyam is the kind of boyfriend who will tease you as if he was degrading you but yet still praises you to no end. Sweet nicknames between two laughs, comforting touch between two rough fuck. The man would LIVE to let you know how pretty you are and how good you are to him, letting him fuck you anywhere and everywhere. You would definitely love hearing him telling you how good you are sucking him or how well you take his dick. It helped with your self consciousness and he knows it. You just love being called a good girl ♡

"Ah, you're doing so good, my perfect and pretty little mate..."

"You love being praised, don't you ? I can feel the way you're clenching around me whenever I call you my good girl."

Last but not least, Neteyam fucks you everywhere. Like, at this point it's concerning. It's been a recurrent topic in my Neteyam pics but yeah, daddy's son can fuck you everywhere. There's two reason; First, he's horny and you are pretty, can you blame him ? I said it before, pussy drunk Neteyam is a must. Like just imagine that you are in the middle of a feast and suddenly he's all about 'nice to see y’all but we gotta go for a bit, we'll be back'. You follow him because he asked you to, but turns out he just wanted to fuck you behind some rock or tree. Or you would be training with the Tsahik when he would come, all smiles, and gently ask if he can take you because 'you need to eat something and rest a bit'. Rest what ? He just wanted to suck on your breast with his fingers deep inside of your cunt. The second reason is because he wants to know how long his 'nice' act would last. He would love acting all innocent in front of his people when he knows that he's just going to fuck you somewhere not so private. How long until someone notice what's behind his smile ? You two bet on it.

"Can I borrow her ? We have some unfinished business..."

"I love seeing their face when they think that we are going to do some leader things when in fact you're just going to open those pretty legs of yours to let me do my things."

"What about the place that we saw last week ? We can leave during tonight's feast to visit it." "..." "You know me so well my love. Yes, I just want to see you on your knees in the middle of the beautiful flowers."

"I think that Dad is suspicious. He will be the first to figure it out." "..." "No way, my mom don't know, wanna bet on that ? If you're wrong you will not cum for a whole week."

"Qu-Quiet love or else they will know that I'm ravaging you. They are barely a few feet away you know ? You know what- Ah- Keep moaning, I want them to ear."

[Next will be about dislikes !

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[livewithyura]

okay so I have this really dumb idea: Jin Kazama x pregnant wife reader (post tekken 8) who is like super clingy always wanting Cuddles/kisses/massages and make it super fluffy

✧ Jin x Reader [ Tekken headcanon!]

❒ ⁀➷ Request open [ tekken only tehe ]

❒ ⁀➷ Answer : Gosh How I love this big guy . Your idea is heartwarming 😔! Jin would be a good husband but I believe he has a little 'clingy' part of him because bro he's literally a mama's boy . This is not a fully one-shot , gotta write some explanation on bullet points!

❒ ⁀➷ Notes : This is my first time taking tekken request , so believe me I'm not that expert!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Morning routine with Jin

You're waking up to do something But Jin Holding your wrist and drags your back to bed. This man refuses to let you go. Your freedom of movement becomes more restricted after he learns about your pregnancy. It's not about control or dominance in the relationship for him . he simply wants to protect you. It can be a bit frustrating when you can't even lift a teacup, as he becomes quite anxious and protective.

"No . 5 minutes" "5 minutes what?" "Stay in bed" And he will rest his head on your chest .

This man tries earnestly to cook for his wife. There was even a time when he accidentally left the stove on fire , Burn the toast , He's so clumsy in kitchen but you're there to help him . At first , he won't let your feet cross the kitchen until he almost set the house on fire .

He will hugs your from the back while kissing the back of your neck . "I will not let that happen again , princess . I swear I will be better in cooking" He will have determination in cooking . Pullin up a hero quotes like "I won't burn the toast anymore , that's my promise" while clenching his fist . [ don't bother him when he's in his main character mode ]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Jin's habits!

He will ALWAYS kiss you while you're doing something . You're reading book? Watching movies? Paint your nails? BRO HE DON'T CARE , He will kiss you anyways. He even will make you both do soft kisses under a blanket in evening . "y/n..." "what?" "How about a kiss?" "Again?" "um--yes?"

Cuddles? Oh he loves that , He will prepare a movie night for his wife just to cuddles with his wife . "we're watching a horror movie , if you're scared you can sit on my lap" the monotone voice of his make his speech more funnier and he's not even blinking when he said that. "SHUT UP AND WATCH THE MOVIE MANN"

He also will do the house chores "Um you know how to use that washing machine RIGHT?" "I'm aware . I mimicked everything my mother did."

After that he demanded a massages , you can't refuse as he always do the ENTIRE house chores . "Y/n..." "What?" "Can I say something.. inappropriate?" "go on" "I'm obsessed with your touch"

He will take care of you . He will clean up your vomit with his expressionless face . He will also steadying your body as you start to stand up or walk . He will make sure to fulfill your request . You want a weird food? He will buy it . You want a relaxing bath? He will prepare it for you . You want a soft pillow? He will buy it. Just called his name , he will be there right in front of you . "Ok , what now Princess?" . He would said that while looking at you.

He will also lend you his baggy hoodie when the temperature is cold.

He will not let you go out alone , he will be there no matter what . "I'll shield you from anything that could harm you, princess. Just give me a call if you want to go buy groceries." he said that while he's resting his head on your lap . "Alright , big guy"

And also , if he want to go somewhere he will drag you . He will never leave you alone . "You.Me.Training.Let's go"

If you refused , he will carry you himself.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Night routine with Jin

You guys will spend the night together . Sometimes , watching movie. Sometimes you guys will have a coffee together or your fav beverages while staring into a starry sky . Talk about philosophy and future plans . Until you fell asleep , he will carry you to bed . Pull the blanket for you and looking at your face until he fell asleep .

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Bonus!

He's clingy since he's a mama's boy . BUT He will NEVER admit it . He will act tough and firm in front of you with his words , but all he need is your love .

"Jin , I just want to go pick up flowers in front of our house" "Okay"

10 minutes later....

"Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?"

"You're little bit clingy , you know that?" "No? I'm not " He said that while his arms around your waist .

I also believe he's so protective because that's what he is , he don't want the tragic moment happen in his life again .

↺Written by yura why you event want to copy and steal this crap? /you can reblog!