#resort slippers

[mujietech]

OEM ECO Friendly Hotel Slippers Luxury Custom Disposable Grass Slippers With Logo For Hotel Spa Resort slipper 100% biodegradable

[theopalempress]

The Opal Empress

A special Wedding Anniversary TOKYO VLOG at DISNEYLAND! Featuring the Disney Resort Line Trains, Cinderella's Castle Fantasyland, Space Mountain of Tokyo Disneyland, Tomorrowland, Adventureland, Star Tours 3D Star Wars Ride, Westernland, Big Thunder Mountain, Western River Railroad Steam Train, Cowboy Cookhouse Smoked Turkey Legs, Mark Twain Riverboat, Haunted Mansion, Cinderella's Fairy Tale Hall, Throne & Glass slipper, It's a Small World Ride, Splash Mountain Critter Country, Toontown, Enchanted Tale of Beauty and the Beast, Disney Omnibus, World Bazaar, Vintage Penny Arcade, Souvenir Medallion, Classic Claw Machine, Mickey Hamburger Pillow & Donut Magnet Souvenir, Disney Nighttime Evening Lights, Castle & Disney Hotel, Disney 40th Anniversary Train & lots more!

💌Living in Japan is a dream come true for me, so if you enjoyed this video and want to watch more, feel free to suggest topics you'd like to see on this channel!

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[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries. 

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile. 

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas. 

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila. 

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him. 

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically. 

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells. 

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie. 

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls. 

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly. 

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair. 

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?” 

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art. 

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily. 

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?” 

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.” 

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair. 

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts. 

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely. 

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly. 

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.  

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot. 

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from. 

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest. 

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness. 

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air. 

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response. 

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting. 

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself. 

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure. 

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes. 

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange. 

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

[lxsunshine]

cckwarming w s4n

(dom!roomatesan x roommate!reader)

cw with s@n

you didn’t want to bother him, but he’s been in his room for almost 4 hours, just hearing some occasional yelling and groaning. you knew San was busy playing games with a group of online friends he called “ateez”, but you wanted to hang out with him, and you felt quite lonely from the lack of attention. it was the weekend so earlier, you texted up some of your other friends in hope for someone to interact with, but they were busy. so your last resort was your friendly roommate that you adored, and harbored a small crush on.

san was your age and worked as a personal trainer at a gym down the street. you had walked past his gym once and you were greeted with defined muscles covered in a sheen of sweat. he had damp hair and his grey tank top was drenched, making the shirt cling to his chest and you could see his pectoral muscles and abs on full display. you couldn’t help the rise of heat to your cheeks and the drop of your jaw if you tried. never have you seen your roommate so in his element, so sweaty so… fuck you felt a familiar heat in your lower belly and you had run back to your apartment and taken a cold shower in the shared bathroom.

since then, you’ve been noticing all the small things that San does that somehow turns you into a flustered mess. when he lounges around in grey sweats and a plain white wifebeater, your thighs clench together. when he’s in the tiny-ass kitchen with you and has to move past you, so he respectfully places his hands on your waist so he can maneuver around you, your tummy explodes with butterflies. when he makes you your morning coffee and presses a kiss to your forehead before he goes to get ready, fucking niagara falls accompanied by butterflies.

san also has a very rough voice when he first wakes up. he’s also a cuddler, which you did not expect. so imagine your surprise when you heard his alarm blaring at 7 am one morning and he wouldn’t turn it off, so you walked into his room and nudged him awake, making him groan and pull you by your arm right on top of him. then he proceeded to pull you flush against him and he nuzzled his head into your neck, groaning “not yet.” it would be an understatement to say you were burning red and almost shaking with desire.

san has never hidden his affection with you, and you’re sure that if people saw you two together, they would think you’re lovers. so now, waiting for 4 hours for some roommate bonding time, you were getting frustrated and sad. you really wanted to hang out with someone, and that someone being a buff-nerdy-gamer/personal trainer-roommate. building up your courage, you sheepishly knocked on his door and waited to hear a response. after nothing but more callouts, you sighed and opened the door. to your surprise, San was basically naked. he wore only a pair of basketball shorts and socks with his slippers. his black hair was fluffy and messy under the headphones, and his full chest was on display, hard nipples exposed to you. you swallowed hard and walked closer, making San finally notice you. he took off one headphone, seeming a bit sheepish, and he covered his chest with his arms.

“oh, hey, was i being too loud?” he asked, giving you a smile that made your heart burst. while he was taking a small break from gaming, he grabbed his water bottle and tipped it back, his throat swallowing deeply. your eyes locked on his throat and you felt yourself turning red. realizing he had asked you a question and was looking at you with a raised eyebrow, you stammered out a response.

“oh, n-no you weren’t. it’s just, you’ve been here for a while and i wanted to hang out with you for a bit… but if you’re too busy…” you trailed off, watching him fiddle with the rings he had on his right hand. your eyes greedily observed all the veins on his hands and his well-taken-care-of nails. his fingers were so nice and long, and so pretty with all the veins that clenched when he grabbed things. you imagined what his neck would look like gripping your neck, teasing your folds, finally sliding into you and curling upwa-

“hello, sweetheart?” he called you out of your filthy thoughts, a sly smile on his face and an eyebrow raised in a teasing manner. “your face is awfully red, what were you thinking about, hmm?”

you blushed even harder and nervously laughed, uncomfortably noticing how your panties were clinging to you, “nothing really, sorry i should go.”

his eyes seemed to narrow and a dark look came over his face as he grabbed your wrist, “i asked you a question and i don’t really appreciate you lying to my face.” his complete change in demeanor made you shiver with excitement and you weakly tugged at your arm. he didn’t budge and he pulled you closer to him. now your knees were touching and you looked down at him a bit.

you struggled to respond in the close proximity and you found it a bit hard to breathe, “ ‘m sorry. i was distracted by your hands.”

you wanted to die, the embarrassment heating your skin and making the room feel like a sauna. he hummed in thought, eyes flickering to your lips and then back to stare into you.

“what do you want with my hands?” he asked, voice low. his hand that wasn’t gripping your wrist reached to cup your jaw, and you felt your knees weaken at the intimacy of it all.

suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, making you whimper and fall to your knees. the sound you made spurred San on and his dick twitched in his pants at the sight of you on your knees.

“please,” you begged, not really knowing what you were begging for. you clenched your thighs together, seeking just a big of friction and he chuckled. his hand still wrapped around your throat and the other now tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“please what?” he asked, almost whispering, and he leant in so close that his lips were centimeters from your own. your eyes flickered down to his soft looking lips and you never felt a stronger urge to kiss someone than you did now.

“please touch me, hold me, anything!” you cried, one hand grabbing onto his thigh. he tsked, letting go of you and sitting back against the chair.

“you interrupted my game and now you want me to spend more time entertaining you?” he chuckled, messing with his headphones.

you felt ashamed and humiliated, but somehow that just made more arousal seep into your underwear. the way he was looking at you with lidded eyes, and his disinterested expression… you craved him. trying to express your apologies and desire, you leaned forward on your knees and nuzzled your head into his crotch. you mouthed wetly at his slightly chubbed cock through his shorts and he inhaled sharply, hand gripping his arm rest.

“fuck, you want me so bad, huh baby?” he laughed breathily and one hand gently raked through your hair. you just whined and mouthed at him again, wanting to express how much you wanted him. suddenly, his gentle caresses changed and he grabbed a chunk of your hair and pulled you, making your head snap up with a cry.

“my teammates are going to wonder where i went. i can’t let them down,” he said to you, sounding condescending and evil. you couldn’t help the flutter of your eyelids, and San laughed in shock.

“if you want me so badly, you can sit on me, princess,” he said, pulling you all the way upright onto your feet and then gesturing to his lap. you could see his hard outline sitting heavy in his lap through his damp shorts and you wanted it. you wanted him filling you up, pressing against your walls and all the nerves inside of you. you wanted him to twitch inside and fill you up with his hot release.

eagerly, you nodded and went to remove your panties from under your skirt. San’s eyes widened for a spilt second before it changed back into his nonchalant face. he leaned back into his chair and before you could step closer, he stopped you.

“you’re sure you want this? i’m going to be in you, love, and i truly want this. do you?” he asked, a bit of insecurity seeping into his voice. your heart stuttered in your chest at his consideration and you craved him even more. even though San was showing off a new exciting side, he was still your kind and loving roommate and your friend in the end.

you nodded and San cocked his brow. realizing he wanted verbal consent, you verbally agreed and he smiled with his cute dimple before he schooled his expression and motioned for you to come closer. he had you turn around so your back would be flush to his bare chest. he lifted his hips a bit and slid his shorts down a bit, pulling his cock out. he then pulled you down, so his cock rested against your folds. you ground gently a few times against him, addicted to the sounds that he made, and his cockhead caught on your entrance a few times. and then he finally slid into you. it felt a little painful from the stretch, but you were wet enough to make the slide easy. as soon as he bottomed out, you keened at how full you felt. he was thick enough to stretch you out and long enough to hit all the right places inside you. he kissed your neck, arms wrapped around your waist, and he whispered, “you doing okay? feels good?”

you moaned in response, wiggling around a bit before you tried to move. one arm wrapped tight around your waist and the other reached to hold your throat.

“i’m pretty comfortable right now,” San smirked and pulled you flush against him, making it impossible to move.

“s-san, what?” you whined, wanting to feel his cock catching on your walls and drilling into you.

“shh. sit still while i finish my round,” he bit your neck playfully while he unwrapped his arm from your waist and adjusted his headphones back on.

then he turned his mic back on and continued playing as if he wasn’t inside of you. you sat in shock but leaned back against his chest to stay comfortable. everytime he got too loud, you accidentally clenched around him, making him squeeze your neck and groan a bit.

“yo, san bro, you good over there?” a voice that was labeled Yunho in the chat called out.

he just squeezed your neck in a warning and your hips stilled (when did they start moving again?).

“all good, yunho. let’s counter-strafe,” he called out, clearing his throat. you whined softly when his hips bucked up into yours. san’s hand traveled from your neck to cover your mouth.

“shh baby, almost done and then i’ll fuck you for real. you can be good for me, right love?” he whispered, you clenched around him in response, making him curse and stumble in the game.

“clearly you can’t,” san grunted, trying to recover in the game. “don’t worry, baby. you’ll get what you deserve.”

[wttcsms]

secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 2k synopsis as a last resort, ghost finds himself letting soap stay with him in your shared home. soap is understandably confused as to why there’s a pregnant young woman already occupying this supposed safehouse.  content contains completely sfw, fluff, domestic fluff, soft!ghost, ghost is absolutely whipped for you & is not ashamed of it, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, marital bliss, protective!ghost, soap & ghost bromance notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic! 

“We’re fucked if we can’t find shelter anywhere,” MacTavish, ever the optimist, readjusts the rucksack on his back before looking at the other operative with him.

He’s not surprised to find his partner’s expression entirely unreadable due to the mask obscuring the entirety of his face, save for a pair of eerily perceptive eyes.

“We can try to contact Price, see if he knows about any safehouses nearb—“

“Won’t be necessary.” Ghost cuts him off, sounding a bit irritated. “I know a place nearby.”

“How do you seem to always know where every single fuckin’ safehouse is?” Soap finds himself grumbling, but noticing that Ghost is already moving ahead, he shouts out a quick hey! and starts jogging to keep up with the man, afraid to be left behind (but secretly knowing that at this point, Ghost would never, no matter how many times he threatens to do so).

After trekking uphill for several miles and then proceeding to venture further into a heavily wooded area, secluded by tall trees and located near a large lake stands an almost unassuming cabin. The curtains to the house are open, but despite him moving closer, it turns out the glass had been tinted to the point where Soap’s unable to peek inside. He can only assume that whoever stays inside would be able to observe what’s happening unbeknownst to the people outside.

“You sure this place is safe?” Soap asks, glancing around. Sure, it’s isolated, and he trusts Ghost’s judgment, but fuck. It kind of sucks not being in the know for things as simple as safehouse locations.

“I sure would hope so.” Ghost grumbles, pulling out a key to stick into the front door’s lock. “It’s my house, after all.”

It’s silly to assume that Ghost doesn’t have a home. As a matter of fact, Soap has (many times) joked about the fact that Ghost probably lives up to his call name and takes refuge in a mausoleum in between missions. Still, Soap finds it a bit interesting to be inside the “Riley Residence” as he called it.

(Ghost just stared at him with those eyes that reflected nothing but exasperation before mumbling that he was going upstairs.)

There’s a large fireplace in the living room, and throw pillows that look soft to the touch resting on the couches. The whole entire cabin smells of something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. Maybe looks can be deceiving; Soap didn’t take Ghost as the type of guy to burn candles in his cabin.

Then again… Ghost isn’t dumb enough to leave candles burning in his home especially if he knows that he’ll be gone for an extended period of time. How long has it been since Ghost went upstairs? He didn’t hear anything unusual, but Soap’s suddenly on high alert. Could there be someone else present? How safe is this place, really?

With one hand gripping his knife, Soap enters further into the cabin. He’s never seen a safehouse so decorated; the agents must have had too much free time on their hands when assembling this one. They even went through the trouble of adding faux personal touches to the place, like current magazines stacked on counters and fuzzy slippers left in the hallway.

(He glances at the pair of house shoes, thinking they’re Ghost’s but realizing that they’re much too small to belong to the bloody giant.)

As Soap nears what he assumes to be the kitchen, he catches sight of movement happening within his peripheral, and he’s quick to whip around to confront the intruder.

He’s met with the terrified screams of a woman, and before he can truly process what’s happening, he hears the unmistakable, thunderous footsteps of Ghost. His fellow operative’s got a gun in his hand and a worried look in his eyes as he examines the scene in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

It’s not Soap that he’s asking; instead, Ghost is immediately by your side, tucking away his gun so he can wrap his arm around you.

Your chest is still visibly rising and falling with every breath you take as you try to recover from the shock of witnessing a man with a mohawk waving a knife around in your own home. You stare at Soap, giving him a weak smile as you reassure Ghost.

“Yes, honey, everything’s fine. I was just caught off guard. I didn’t know I should have been expecting a guest.” You’ve seemed to recover quickly, and this time you offer him a real smile as you introduce yourself.

Your last name is Riley.

And while Soap prides himself on being plenty observant, he still can’t quite piece together the insanely easy puzzle in front of him. Ghost refuses to leave your side. You called the scary masked man honey. You’ve got a thin gold band adorning your left hand’s ring finger, and there’s an unmistakable baby bump protruding from the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It’s not that Soap isn’t able to realize what’s in front of him.

It’s the fact that Soap can’t believe that someone like Ghost could ever possibly have something so… normal.

A nice, cozy little home. A cute, pregnant wife. No wonder he had been so reluctant in taking the two of them here to spend the night! He’s been trying to keep you a secret this whole time.

That bloody bastard.

Ghost isn’t nearly as forgiving as you, and he’s still glaring at Soap.

“Fucking hell, Soap. I let you in my house, and the first thing you decide to do is terrify my wife. What the fuck?”

“Simon!” You gasp out, tugging at your husband’s arm. “It’s not his fault. I didn’t hear the two of you come in. He didn’t know about me because you didn’t even tell him I existed!”

“Why would he need to know? Nosy bastard’s already always in my business.” Ghost grumbles, and you slap his arm.

“I am so sorry, Soap.” You apologize on behalf of your husband (who doesn’t look the least bit sorry whatsoever). “Let me get the guest bedroom set up for you—”

“—I already did.” Ghost says, and his gaze seems to soften when his eyes land on yours and then moves downwards to focus on the baby bump. “You don’t need to be straining yourself.”

For the next few days, they lay low in an attempt to tire out their enemies or at least get them off their backs. These few days have been nothing but a series of revelations for Soap.

For example, who would have thought that Ghost has a lovely little wife at home who he absolutely worships? He’s caught the man massaging your feet, forcing you to let him wash the dishes, and Soap doesn’t even want to know the reason why the two of you so long in the shower. (Ghost would probably kill him if he ever did try to find out.)

Every single morning, the two of you cook breakfast together. He kisses you (forehead, cheeks, lips — just depends on what’s the most accessible at the moment) every time he walks by you. You’ll say, honey, can you bring me a glass of water? but he’s already making his way towards you, glass in hand, because he’s so attuned to you.

Every glimpse of Ghost’s secret domestic life feels too intimate for Soap to watch; he almost feels as if he’s intruding on a private moment, even when the two of you are doing something as simple as being near each other.

(Do you know that every time you move just the slightest bit, Ghost mirrors the action, adjusting his body accordingly so that it’s always shielding yours?)

“You look like you’ve been dying for the chance to ask me a couple of questions,” you set down a mug of hot tea in front of Soap before sliding into the seat across from him. Ghost is out back chopping firewood, and while you usually enjoy watching the way his arms flex and his muscular back just absolutely tighten up every time he hacks up the wood, you know that Soap will never get a chance to talk to you in private.

“Was I that obvious?” He grins, feeling more relaxed whenever you laugh. You’re an awfully nice person; too nice to survive in their world, and probably too nice for the city, too. No wonder Ghost keeps you tucked away in this cabin.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have any questions about our relationship.”

“I guess that’s true, huh? So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Soap can’t exactly picture a teenage Ghost with a high school crush.

“He saved my life.” There’s a healthy glow to your skin; it might stem from the pregnancy, but you simply seem to brighten up even more when you talk about your husband. “You know, you were there too!”

“I was?” He takes a closer look at you, but he can’t recognize you in any of his memories. You’re certainly beautiful, and he’s sure that if he really did meet you, he would at least remember you by now.

“Don’t worry, I think Simon will prefer it if you didn’t know me at all, anyway.” Your fingers wrap around your own mug, warming up your cold hands. “Don’t let him fool you, though. He’s such a big softie.”

Soap has watched your “big softie” stab men to death quicker than he can blink his eyes. If it was a rescue mission where the two of you met, he’s almost certain that you must have seen his less-than-sweet side as well.

“You think he’d kill me if I started tellin’ everyone what a big softie he is?”

“He’d let you get away with it. You’re one of his friends, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon, Soap. You and I both know Simon pretty well. He’s not above sleeping in the woods. He wouldn’t have brought someone here he didn’t trust. And you might not have known I existed, but we talk about you sometimes.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“It’s Simon.” You say, simply shrugging. “I’m sure he saves the worst for when the two of you are face to face.”

“Has he ever taken the mask off with you?”

You beckon Soap to lean forward just like you, and with your elbows on the table and both of you with your heads low, you whisper conspiratorially, “I take it off for him.”

The two of you are still laughing when Ghost walks in.

You pack both of them lunches before sending them back on their way, waving farewell from the front door, one hand resting on your stomach. You and Simon already had a private sendoff; away from the prying eyes of your visitor, Simon kneels down to give a gentle kiss to your belly, staring in wonder as he feels the slightest kick in return.

“Be a good boy for mommy,” is what he whispers before returning back to his full height. It’s hard to hug you with all his tactical gear getting in the way, but he’s stubborn.

Walking out the door and leaving you and his child behind is always hard. You tell Soap to come back any time (Simon’s stare told him that that invitation would not be valid under his watch).

Soap promises he will, and Ghost just has to respect that because he’s already been kind enough to turn a blind eye to the obvious longing in Ghost’s eyes as he leaves you.

“So, Lt., tell me. I must be your favorite, eh?”

“Favorite what? Pain in the fucking ass?” Ghost retorts. The two of them have a long walk ahead of them.

“Am I the first on the force to meet your girl?”

Ghost’s silence is confirmation enough.

“I knew it! I am your favorite on the force.”

“Shut up.”

(Ghost doesn’t necessarily dispute the claim, though.)

[celestialprincesse]

simon with a grumpy, irritable reader on her period maybe?? ❤

Are u in my walls or smt because I literally started my period yesterday

literally the ittiest bittiest bit nsfw at the end if you reach idk

Simon knows you're about to start your period. You're far snappier than usual, and almost cried the other day when you checked the cupboard to see it very much void of the chocolate you'd been craving.

You come down to the kitchen the next morning, where he sits and reads the paper, a mug of earl grey half lifted to his mouth, pausing when he hears the shuffling of your slippers on the tile floor.

"Morning, Poppet." He croons, an amused smile pulling at the corners of his lips when you bury your face into his shirt, letting out an aggravated huff, sounding almost more animal than human, but no less grumpy.

Before you can even protest, you're being plonked down on the counter beside Simon, who withdraws some painkillers from the drawer and grabs your favourite mug, already whipping up a hot chocolate, hoping that it'll soothe your cravings, and crabbiness, at least until he can go to the supermarket.

"How did you-?"

"Educated guess." He shrugs, not wanting to bring up the way you've obviously succumbed to the clutches of your hormones over the past few days.

You mumble something absently in response as you knock back the painkillers, hoping they'll soothe the dull ache in your lower belly, at least a little bit.

The rest of the day, and the week that follows, is spent with you barely lifting a finger, being plied with heat pads and snacks, and an endless selection of comfort movies to ease your emotional sensitivity.

If that still doesn't work, and you stay cranky, Simon can always resort to providing you with a good orgasm or two. They are supposed to help with cramps, after all.

[hisui-dreamer]

Heya! I'm not very experienced with requesting, so if your unclear with what I mean, I apologize and you can feel free to delete!

I was wondering if you could do "Cuddling with Lilia Vanrouge" or "A morning with Lilia Vanrouge"? Your choice on what you want to do!

Have a lovely day <3

cuddly mornings with bat dad

Pairing: Lilia Vanrouge x gn!reader

Synopsis: how is it like cuddling and waking up with him?

Tags: fluff, cuddling, sleepovers, domestic bliss, clingy lilia, lilia's cooking 💀

Word count: 642

Notes: i decided to combine both requests haha, hope you enjoy our resident bat dad!!

Masterlist

Lilia has a pretty bad habbit of staying up late to play video games, so he often tries to convince you to sleepover at his place to ensure he gets proper sleep

"How would I be tempted by video games when my dearest is waiting for me?", or so he says

kinda sorta maybe guilt trips you into spending your nights cuddling with him??? grim is not pleased please return his henchman

but you can't blame him really, cuddling with you is just so warm and comfy

doesn't really have a sense of decency in public and will wrap his arms around you and spin you around in the air as though you didn't wake up in his room 4 hours ago

he loves snuggling into the crook of your neck and planting butterfly kisses all over

also loves teasing you with his cold feet and holds you close so you can't escape, and you just end up being a tangled mess of limbs

big spoon!!! it likes how you feel safe and protected in his arms

also the sudden cold hand at your waist when he's teasing

usually he's the first one to wake, used to his military training and all

so he'll just be next to you and gently brushing your hair, admiring just how peaceful you look in his arms

he'll wake you up gently and if you want to sleep in, he'll gladly indulge you unless you already have plans

but on the rare occasion he's completely drained, you'll wake up to feel his arms tightly wrapped around you, almost as if he's afraid you'll disappear

you can try to shuffle around, but he might just tighten his arms even more

so you resort to staring intensely at his features, playing around with his hair, or gently poking his face

his eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forms on his face as he opens his eyes, the lingering haze of sleep evident

but the moment he registers it's you, his features soften, his eyes sparkling with endearment and he gently tilts his head forward to connect your forehead with his

"Morning, beastie..." he whispers, his voice still hoarse from sleep

the first time you slept over at his place, you had an awful morning trying to navigate his room with how cluttered with random bits and bobs

ever since though, he's made sure his floor is clear of clutter aaand has a nice fluffy pair of slippers especially for you

and of course! he wouldn't be the lovely partner that his is, if he didn't serve you breakfast!

you better pray he didn't decide to make pancakes or anything even slightly unhealthy because it's not gonna be good ಠ⁠﹏⁠ಠ

just keep telling him salad is you favourite dish, okay? if it's nutritious enough, the chances of survival are higher

or, if you wake up first, you can convince him you'll make breakfast for him instead

he won't ever refuse your acts of love for him, after all

"Darling..." Lilia's voice soothes, a gentle touch sweeping through your hair to brush it away from your face. You groggily open your eyes, and see your beloved sitting by the bed, his eyes crinkling in affection. "Come now, you must wake up! I've prepared a new dish for breakfast-"

Oh. Okay. You immediately tug the covers over yourself, attempting to shield yourself from his culinary creation.

"Oh, don't be like that," he scolds lightly, pulling the covers back. "I think it turned out quite wonderfully! Won't you give a try for your beloved's efforts? I did spend quite some time on it..."

Your eyes remain shut in resistance, but there's no denying he's pouting now. With a resigned sigh, you sit up, resting your head on his shoulder and mumbling an "alright."

Maybe it's worth waking up earlier than him.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[hannyoontify]

[01:48] half asleep, your boyfriend reached over to your side of the bed, missing your warmth, only to find the sheets cold and empty. whatever sleep jeonghan had left in his system was gone in half a second as he felt around but there was nothing but your sheets.

jeonghan sat up in a panic and looked around the bedroom. the bathroom light was turned off, meaning that you weren't in the restroom, and from where he was sitting, he couldn't tell if the living room lights were turned off or not.

deciding to check just in case, jeonghan clambered out of bed and slid into his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen and living room area. his hair was a tussled mess and the hem of his pajama pants dragged along the floor as he noisily made his way across the living room.

the area was dark, the only light illuminating the shared living area was the single LED light from your aquarium, where your pet fish was sleeping. even the fish were sleeping peacefully, but where were you?

there was a singular light turned on in the kitchen and jeonghan had a pretty good idea of who it might be. scratching the back of his head, he saw you sitting on the kitchen island, legs crossed and your back facing towards him. he spotted a your special tea mug next to you and jeonghan felt his heart break a little. you only brought that mug out for one reason.

'hey angel, why aren't you sleeping?' he called out. his voice sounded much more groggy than he had expected.

you whipped around, surprised by the sudden audience. 'hey hannie, did i wake you up?'

your boyfriend made his way towards you and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder. 'no, but the bed's cold without you' he mumbled.

you chuckled as you set down the book you had in your hand to card your hands through his messy hair. he had cut it recently, resorting back to his shorter black hair from the bouncy, curly hair he had a while ago. 'i'm sorry, angel... i just... had another one of those dreams'

jeonghan knew what you meant. ever since the big fight the two of you had a couple months ago, you occasionally had a dream? nightmare? that he would leave your side, leaving you alone with your broken parts. when you first told him about this dream, jeonghan felt his heart breaking bit by bit, but what made everything shatter was that you didn't go to him for comfort.

usually, if you ever had a bad dream, you would immediately wake him up, even if it meant that most of your boyfriend's responses were half-awake grunts and 'uh-huh's as you explain the dream to him. you didn’t mind since you knew he was trying his best to comfort you and the night always ended with you in his embrace. his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and your face tucked into the crook of his neck, the comforting and familiar scent of his shampoo and laundry detergent lulling you back into comfortable, dream-less sleep.

but the first night you had that dream, you ventured out into the kitchen and made yourself a cup of hot chamomile tea. you spent the rest of the night making yourself comfortable on the couch, reading percy jackson and drinking the cooled down cup of tea. jeonghan had cried the first time it happened, blaming himself for not being a person that you could always go to, but you reassured him that it wasn't his fault and you simply wanted to be on your own to collect your thoughts, and percy jackson helped get your mind off of things.

jeonghan no longer blamed himself whenever you had those dreams, but he always felt subconsciously guilty for being the reason that you were losing sleep. he offered all of his love and support and you appreciated every bit of it.

jeonghan nodded in understanding. 'are you feeling better now?'

you nodded and put the mug back in the sink. it was a white ceramic mug, a custom matching set with his. the two of you had painted the mugs together in a studio, purposefully matching designs and color schemes. it was your prized possession.

'yeah, let's go back to bed hannie'

after making yourself comfortable again in bed, you cuddled up against your boyfriend, who had a sad look on his face.

'it's not your fault, hannie'

'i know.. i just wish you could stop having these dreams so you're more at ease'

'me too, angel. that way i'll stop leaving you on your own in the middle of the night'

you rested your head on jeonghan's chest, listening to the low thumping of his heart. this heart had been broken and mended a thousand times over, with your help and love, just like he had for you. jeonghan had picked up every fragile piece of your heart and pieced it back together piece by piece, with his love and care.

'i love you angel. more than anything'

'i love you too, hannie. thank you for being here'

a/n : wow this is ass AHAHAHAHAHA. wrote this on a whim bc i couldn't sleep and i missed jeonghan. this is actually ass i'll probably rewrite this lol okay gn

[wxxpingangxls]

Dirty Diana

+synposis; once again, your husband is too busy for your 16th annerversary, and to add to your dismay, your pipes have bursts. so now you have to call the local plumber to help fix your leaky pipes...

+content/warnings; black reader but no explicit description, age gap( Gojo is 26, reader is 47), whiny Gojo, needy reader, teasing, multiple rounds, creampie, reader is a MILF, Gojo's divorced, slight power play, reader is more on the dom side, Gojo is smitten over reader, oral - fem receiving-, cowgirl

+pairings; Firefighter!Gojo x MILF!black fem reader

being married to a business man who was constanlty at work was fun at first. with yearly strips to ski resorts and monthly weekends away to the smiling and tropical coast. but after your two children had gone away to college and your third and fourth were in the last years of highschool, you became lonely.

"i know i know, i promised but you have to understand that the meeting was pushed back and we still don't have the arrangements for the business trip. i promise i'll-" you cut off the phone before he could make another empty promise. you huffed, groaning as you faced the cold dinner you'd made for the two of you. it was the first meal you ever made for him when you guys first moved in together and unsurprisingly his favourite.

you walked back into the kitchen to pour yourself more of that special wine you saved for this day. you stared at the sink for a bit, letting your mind drift off, the empty night sky bringing tranquility to your mind. however, amoung hearing the sound of rushing water, you looked down to see water from the bottom of the sink rushing to your feet.

you quickly scurried to the far side of the room, silently cursing under your breath. Your house slippers were soaked. you grabbed your landline to phone your local plumber. much to your dismay, he was all booked out for tonight and you couldn't wait until the morning, however he mentioned something about phoning in the local fire station as most of the men were trained to deal with plumbing issues.

you placed your full wine glass down upon hearing the door bell ring. you checked yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall, running your hands through your hair and wiping the lip stik off the side of your cheek, making sure you were decent.

"uh…ms Y/N?" the tired man asks, his eyes hanging low as his peered at your appearance. to say you were an attractive woman was an understatement. your hair hung in loose curls that framed your face and your light blue nightgown accentuated your body shape. your baby blue silk robe seemed to flow and shift in elegance and grace. "this is she, are you gojo?"

"yeah... satoru gojo. i heard you've got a leaky pipe." he gestured towards the toolbox he carried with him. he shlyly followed your lead into the kitchen occasionally leering down watching your ass through the light fabric of the robe, his own shoes thumping to the beat of your own, matching house slippers clicking against the tiled floors.

"just what i thought, a loose pipe." he said grunting as he reached for his wrench. "you want sum' to drink, gojo?" you asked shoving the half empty wine bottle in his face. you were bored, alone and borderline drunk.

he chuckled before shaking his head. "drink on the job? nah, no thank you," he sat up before he looked down and huffed. "oh come on, it's terrible drinking alone," you whine, slightly slurring your words, trying to convince the sexy young man to say a little longer. his sunken blue eyes bore into yours suspiciously. "you're alone? i thought i saw to dinner plates on the dining table," a sour expression immediately replaced your hopeful one.

"oh right. it's my anniversary, but my husband got 'caught up' at work again," you huffed out annoyed.

"you're married?"

"why are you surprised?"

"m'not...just asking," he shurgged.

gojo thought for a while. ever since his divorce, he hadn't come home to a freshly made meal. however he was here strictly for business and he needed to remember that. "well, if your husband isn't here, why let the food go to waste?" he smiled cheekily at you. your eyes lit up. it had been months since you'd ate with someone else. he smiled to himself as he watched you grab the dinner plate and popped it in the microwave. "and about that wine, why don't you pour me a glass to go with it,"

"my eldest was an easy baby. look, she didn't even cry when we pierced her ears," you pointed to the old picture of your daughter as gojo reached over to see your child in her infant years.

"wish i could say the same. last time i saw my girl, she was always crying," he laughed light-heartedly before becoming silent as he saw your puzzled expression. "divorce. my wife got full custody," he shrugged, running his fingers through his hair white hair.

“you’re divorced? you’re pretty young…what age did you get married?” you asked inquiringly.

“i was 19, between me and you, i didn't know what i was thinking," he replied.

you didn't pry further. you moved over to his side, rubbing his shoulders as you bent over, silently reasaurring him. "i'll get more wine. here lemme take your plate," you whispered, taking the empty glass from his hand, your breath lingering around the back of his ear.

as you scrubbed the plate clean, you felt hot breath fan against your neck. "gojo, what are you doing?" you gasped as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

"don't act like your legs weren't rubbing agaisnt each other the minute we sat down," his lips moved up and down your neck sensually, moving in a rhythm that had you dripping through your laced panties as he groaned in response. "gojo, we shouldn't, its not right..." you protested, however you made no attempt to get away from his grasp, even as his grip tightened. "i'm a married woman,"

"married to a man who doesn't love you enough,"

"what do you know about my relationship?" you questioned hastly.

"well, for one, you never mentioned a husband yet your all dressed up waiting for company of some kind,"

"hmm, your smart for such a young person," you giggled, feeling caught out.

"you're so under appreciated in your own home. if i were your husband, you'd never feel alone again," he sighed in your ear before planting a kiss behind it. you whined as you subconsciously rubbed against his throbbing bulge. "goj-"

"call me satoru, please," he spun you around with one hand to face him.

his chiselled face moved closer to yours and for the first time you could smell his cologne. hints of sandalwood, spice and jasmine tickled your nose in the most sensual way. your eyes locked for a moment, before you looked away. it had been so long since you'd felt the touch of your husband let alone a man. the sexual tension increased with every second you guys took staring into each others eyes.

he soft lips brushed against yours as he looked you in your eyes, your foreheads touching. "if you don't want this, just say the words. say the words and i'll leave right now. this would be our little secret," he whispered. you searched his eyes, but all you saw was a sparkle. a certain sparkle he hadn't had in years. a certain sparkle you haven't seen in years.

his warm tongue swirled in your mouth as his hand cupped your aching cunt. his other hand was at the back of your head as the two of you sloppily made out. your hands cupped his face, caressing it in your soft hands. you groaned into the kiss as he pressed a finger against your clothes clit. "m'gonna make you feel s'good," he whined as he broke the kiss, moving down to your neck. you whined as he pulled his hand from your underwear. he took of his jacket revealing his broad shoulders and wide chest hidden beneath a white wife beater. his veins popping out with every movement he made. "come here," he whispered eagerly holding out his arms for you to jump in. he lifted you onto the counter, his tender lips somehow making their way back to yours again.

you watched eagerly as he lowered himself, face to face with your dripping hole. "look at you. she hasn't been fucked in weeks, has she?" he sniggered as he watched your face drop. he'd gone from a well mannered service provider to a man with a fucking filthy mouth. maybe you'll keep him around longer.

your thoughts were interrupted by a warm and wet tongue lapping against your clothed cunt. "gojo...!" you squealed instinctively reaching to grab on his hair and shut your legs around his head. he laughed at your reaction, the vibrations stimulating your cunt further. he simply just ripped your legs apart with his big strong arms. "keep still f'me," he demanded. you whined but nonetheless followed his instructions.

his mouth reattached itself to your sopping pussy as he continued lapping. he made sure to suck and nibble on your throbbing clit even through your lacey blue panties. you groaned as his fingers moved to play around and rub your slit. you huffed, your sensitive pussy twitching around an empty space. your legs started to twitch as he moved his fingers towards your clit, rubbing firm circles. "wow, you close already? so filthy..." he whispered condescendingly. "satoru...!" you pulled harder at his hair as his fingered moved faster.

your legs began shaking as it became too much too quickly. "what is it, baby? you gonna come for me, yeah?" he watches as you gasp and attempt to close your legs around his hand. but he was just too strong. you gasped as he moved his hand, leaving on the edge of your orgasm.

"what the hell?" you shot up from the counter. "be patient. i said i'd make you feel good, didn't i?" he raised a brow whilst unbuckling his cargo pants and dropping his drawls. they fell to the floor as his hot bulge made your pussy leak even more. "fuck..." he sighed, finally getting his dick free. curly white pubes dusted his pelvis. he pumped his cock a few times, smearing the pre-cum all over.

he pulled your panties off, slick sticking to your foiled panties. his thumb and index pulled your lips apart, watching as your stringing arousal stuck them together and your hole clench around the cool air. "how long since you been eaten out, babe?" he asks.

"what?" you sigh, too cock hungry to register his question. your whining gave him all he needed to know. he clicked his tongue before wrapping his lips around the sore bud. his large hands held your thighs open, as wide as they could go. you squealed as his tongue lapped against your cunt.

the only time he broke away was to spit on your filthy hole, watching as it dripped down to your clenching asshole. he was sloppy. and messy. and loud. he groaned in encouragement, making sure to make a mess out of your sopping cunt. "yes satoru! just like that... m'fuck! you're so good for me..."you cried out in ecstasy as he brought his mouth to your clit again, this time making sure to suck hard. he shook his head from side to side, eliciting a high pitched moan from your mouth. "satoru!" you moaned out loud at the stranger in your home from the sensitivity of it all.

"fuck...sator- m'so close" he groaned his response as your brows furrowed and your eyes glossed over in bliss. your hips buckled against his mouth despite him trying to hold you still. "stop squirming, pretty lady," he grumbled. "look at the way she's talking to me. she's just begging to cum," he squinted before bringing you right into his mouth again and holding you there. "come on baby," he spat on your cunt before diving in further. "wait- wait- sat-oru..." you wailed, attempting to push his head away.

your cunt wasn't used to the stimulation of being sloppily eaten. the sensitivity was getting to you fast. tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes as you began sniffing. his grip tightened on you as you squirmed harder. your legs shook and twitched around his head.

"gojo! slow down, please!" he smiled as he watched you writhe in his tight hold. your stomach tightened and your breathe hitched. your toes started curling as you arched your back and pulled his hair for dear life. your held your breath as you came all over his face. "yeah...that's it, just like that," he watched as your legs spasmed and your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolled mindlessly out of your mouth. "fuck..." you slurred slowly coming back to your senses. he pulled away and closely watched you come down from your high as he slowly rubbed on your sore clit.

"hah...that was s'good..." you breathed.

"i told you i'd make you feel good," he whispered as he took your hand in his and took your shaky figure into the living room. his large hand wrapped around your waist. he sat upright on the sofa beckoning you towards his lap. you sat in between his open legs. "ride me baby, show me how much you've missed having a dick inside of you," he leered at your figure towering over him. you discarded the silk robe and kneeled over his stiff cock.

"now, baby, you ever been ridden so good, you're holding back tears?" you stare into his eyes for a bit. he smirked before rubbing your back. he saw the determination in your eyes, his face dropping at the realisation. "no..." he finally huffed out.

"well you know what they say. there's a first time for everything," you took his hefty cock in your hands, pumping it a few times before sinking down.

you winced in unison, your tight walls squeezing on his throbbing dick. he was thick and girthy. hitting you in all the right places. he had you drooling already. he tapped you thigh, breaking you from your dicked hungry state. "wow, you really haven't been fucked in a while," he chuckled cheekly.

"you know, for someone who can't handle me, you really are mouthy. you know what happens to mouthy boys?" you snickered.

"what..?" he replied, his lips pursing in anxiety and trepidation.

"they get punished, for having a sharp mouth," as you were speaking, you could feel his hips slowing shifting, trying to gain some friction inside your warm walls. "uh-uh, i'm not done with you," you grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks together.

"please...i'll-i'll be good, i'll shut up!" he pleaded.

his negotiations were pathetic to say the least. you hummed in acknowledgement, your own juices leaking down in eagerness.

you started grinding your hips, experimenting with different paces. his hand remained on your hips, before you started to bounce up and down. "thank you..." he sighed, watching your body move up and down, fucking yourself on his aching cock. "you like that, yeah?" you asked, steadying yourself by holding his shoulders. his hand moved down to your ass before landing a heavy handed smack. he rubbed on the sore skin, before squeezing it in his hands. "fuck yeah, i love it," he whined, his hips buckling.

you laughed breathlessly however your pace never faltered. his grip tightened as you began to gain in speed. your gummy walls gripped on his eager dick, clenching tightly. you gasped upon feeling his cock meet your hips. your wet cunt made it easy for kento to thrust up into you and he made sure you knew.

"hah...fuck satoru..." you cried looking down at him. his eyes were glossed over in a cloud of lust and hunger. "you feel so good, thank you!" his fingers moved towards your clit, rubbing firm circles on the bud. he noticed the shift in your pace as your legs started trembling slightly.

"keep going, come on," he huffed sexily moving the hair from his face, with his free hand. you winced as his pace quickened. "fuck, keep squeezing me like that," he whined, throwing his head back. "fuck Y/N..." his fingers continued to play with your clit while his other hand landed another sharp slap onto your ass.

your eyes rolled into your skull as his hips angled towards the spongey spot deep in your cunt. "fuck!" you whine. your legs buckle as he watches you fall. "oh you like that?" he chuckles lowly, visibly taken aback.

"yes yes yes! fuck satoru!" your eyes roll back as his pace quickens. he fucks himself into you hissing every time you clench down on him.

"gojo, m'close!" you gasped, your grip on his shoulders tightening. he watched from below as your face contorted into that of bliss as he kept hitting that same spot. "just like that," your cunt squelched with every thrust he had to give you. your tummy churned as his dick pummelled your gummy walls. your slick was running down your leg as you let out babbles and moans of pure nonsense. you legs began to spasm as you started drooling. "whose pussy is making you feel good?" you said through breaths.

"huh?" he whined too pussy whipped to comprehend anything. you grabbed his face in your hands so his eyes were on you and no one else, "whose. pussy. is. making. you. feel. this. good?" you said firmly in between breaths.

"yours Y/N, your pussy makes me feel so good." he wailed loud enough for neighbours to hear. "there's a good boy," his large arm wrapped around your waist, holding you still against his hips.

your babbles increased in pitch and your legs grew limp. "you close baby?" you asked raising a brow.

he nodded eagerly. "use you words f'me. tell me how bad you wanna cum,"

"uh huh, uh huh, want it so bad ms Y/N!"

your toes curled and uncurled as gojo kept his hips at the angle that had you coming undone. "yes fuck, there's a good boy...!" you babble out nodding your head, tears stinging in your eyes.

"fuck, you're too tight, loosen up f'me," he whined, his hips were stuttering as he tried to move but you were just too tight. you were too fucked out on his hefty cock to even acknowledge his comment. "Y/N, you need to relax.." his voice became higher in pitch as he continued to thrust into your tight hole.

his thrust became sloppy and inconsistant as his legs started to spasm. "m'gonna cum," he huffed, thick cock throbbing inside of you. "do it inside pretty boy!" you instructed.

"inside? you want it inside? what if you get pregnant?" he stammered.

"dammit gojo, just cum inside me!"

he nodded feverishly, sniffling as tears from over sensitivity started to sting in his eyes. his hips stuttered one last time before he came in your sore cunt.

his eyes rolled back as he huffed. his arm around your waist tightened as he began to pull out. your cunt oozed with a mixture of your slick, cum and his cum. "yeah, that's it...look at that. i'm just leaking,"your filthy mouth was back at work as the creampie ran down your leg.

he slid his tip between your folds smearing the mess everywhere. his thick cock left your aching hole gaping as he kissed your forehead. as you leaned in to kiss all over his face, the landline rung. "i'll go get the phone," you sighed that such a sensual moment was being ruined.

"hello?"

"hey honey, how would you feel about a trip to a resort in Bali for a week?" your husband suggested as an apology for missing your anniversary. you thought for a moment before facing the firefighter in your home. he lay on the sofa, smiling goofily to himself, with one hand placed behind his head.

"sure, why not."

"and again, i'm sorry i missed our anniversary, i won't happen again." he chuckled from the other side of the phone. you did start to feel guilty about sleeping with another man when you have a hard working husband, but then again, your own husband was out having his own escapades with various other women you weren't aware about. "i'm sure i won't," you replied slyly before hanging up the landline.

you walked over to the nasty fireman before sitting back in his lap.

"round 2?"

"i thought you'd never ask..."

[lightseoul]

all too much (i'm sorry)

synopsis. the last person you want to see is Bakugou Katsuki. the one person you need to see is Bakugou Katsuki.

cw. depression, suicidal thoughts, depressed!reader, gn!reader, college!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~21 years old), hurt/comfort

word count. 1.7k words

Your eyes shoot open, and the first word that pops into your head is a curse. Fucking great, you think, I’m still alive.

Weakly propping yourself up on your elbow, you reach for your phone to check the time.

5:37 PM. You napped for one and a half hours. You frown, then shake your head in resignation. Better than being awake for an extra one and a half hours, really.

You wince at the feeling of your parched throat, and you contemplate whether or not you should get up and start getting your shit together. Motivation’s been getting difficult to come by these days, though, and your eyes start shutting closed again, but you startle awake when your phone chimes with a new text message.

Patrol’s over in 30. Same time?

Fuck—you forgot. You and Bakugou have agreed to spend Friday nights together to catch up and prevent growing distant. Maintaining your friendship has been a lot of work, but both of you put in the effort, and as a result, your bond has only gotten stronger in spite of the busyness that came with his becoming a Pro Hero and your entering college three years ago.

Your fingers hover over your screen—maybe you should call it off. You’re not in the mood to see anyone, even Bakugou Katsuki. Not to mention you look and feel like shit. Having your best friend and just recently, crush (because apparently, the heavens wanted to fuck you up even more) see you in this state will indubitably be embarrassing.

After a few more minutes of tired contemplation, you finally type out a response.

I’ll have to take a rain check, Kats. I’m studying for an exam this Monday.

Sighing in relief and exhaustion once you pressed send, you drag yourself out into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

The ice-cold liquid burns your throat and your head throbs in response, but at least you feel a bit more awake and alive now.

You’re seated on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through your Netflix recommendations on the TV when a loud knocking breaks you out of your post-nap stupor.

You don’t have the time to feel annoyance or panic over who could this person showing up unannounced at the most inconvenient time possibly be because the incessant knocking doesn’t let up. You rush to open the door and find yourself face-to-face with an annoyed Bakugou, still decked out in his hero costume.

He eyes you suspiciously, “I thought you were studying.”

You try to feign nonchalance, but you end up gulping before you can even think about it. “I was.”

Normally, at this point, you’d step aside for Bakugou to come in and make himself at home, though usually, he’d be in civilian clothes after having gone to his own apartment to clean up and prepare, but today’s not normal. He’s decorated with a few dirt marks from patrol, and that omnipresent scowl he wears is still there, albeit less prominent.

“What, you’re not even gonna let me in?”

You toe at your house slippers nervously, “I really have to study now, Kats. I just woke up from a nap to take a break.”

He frowns, “That why you look like shit?”

Normally, you’d hit his arm in fake offense before bursting out laughing anyway. But again, today’s not normal. His comment is wounding when it’s usually meant to break the ice.

“I…” you start, but resort to shaking your head in defeat. You don’t have the energy for this. “Just go home, Katsuki.”

With that, you turn your back to him and beeline to your bedroom. You end up closing the door far harder than you intended, and it shuts with a slam. You wince at the sound, feeling a sudden pang of guilt shoot you in the chest. He didn’t deserve that, you think to yourself. It doesn’t matter, a second thought follows immediately after.

Sighing for the nth time that evening, you plop on the bed and close your eyes, willing yourself to go back to sleep and hopefully, maybe, not wake up again.

Your eyes flicker open at the soft clanging noises outside your bedroom, and you immediately shoot up upon realizing that you forgot to lock the door before walking out on Bakugou.

In spite of yourself and the raging headache that’s been plaguing you on and off for quite some time now, you hurriedly climb out of bed and grab the nearest makeshift weapon in your room.

A blow dryer. Good enough.

Quietly, you tiptoe towards the door and, slowly, open it while thinking prayers for it not to creak. You didn’t even notice your shoulders were tensed up until you lock eyes with Bakugou through the crevice, the sight of whom immediately soothes your nerves despite yourself.

You stand upright, toss your blow dryer onto your bed, and step out of the room reluctantly. Under the white light of the kitchen, you can now see what he’s doing. Donning your yellow apron over the lounge clothes he keeps in your apartment, he’s chopping up green onions and other vegetables for what seems like a soup dish.

It smells heavenly, and your stomach grumbles in agreement.

“And here I was thinking you were gonna sleep through the entire night already.”

A whirlwind of emotions rushes through your body—relief, fondness, longing, embarrassment, guilt—but the one emotion you can bear to focus on, and is the most familiar, is anger. And you don’t fight it from taking over.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

The sentence comes out in a low tone, and somewhat clipped, though you didn’t mean it to sound like that. In spite of himself, you know Bakugou worries, and he definitely won’t be heading back now if he knows something’s off.

True enough, he visibly stiffens at the sound of your voice, and it hurts to see him uncomfortable around you. Another wave of guilt washes over you. Though it gets masked, yet again, with a familiar sense of apathy.

“I heard you,” he shifts on his feet, “but you sure as hell weren’t gonna cook yourself a decent meal, so I stayed to make sure you ate.”

You expected him to respond with some anger himself, but he’s uncharacteristically calm. It’s making you feel even more ashamed of how you’re acting. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating.

“Well,” you croak as you shift your eyes away from his face, “I didn’t ask for your help, so you can go home now.”

Silence settles between the two of you. It’s unnerving.

You force yourself to look back at Bakugou, who’s now frowning. “I’m sure you had a long day,” you finished.

Unable to hold eye contact any longer, you turn to head back to your bedroom when Bakugou reaches out and grabs for your wrist.

You turn to face him, ready to spit some venom you probably don’t even mean, but the words get stuck in your throat when you see tears rimming his eyes.

You hurt him.

Yet, he proceeds in a calm, but stern, voice: “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, you finally lose it.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?!” you shout, ripping yourself from his grip, “Quit pressing!”

Bakugou doesn’t flinch, nor does he step back from you. He just keeps his ground.

You took his silence as a sign to continue. “I think I’m depressed. I don’t know. I just feel like a fucking corpse every day and I hate the fact that I have to wake up and go to school and talk to people and take care of myself as if the pain isn’t there!” you cry, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Has this been,” he clears his throat, “has this been going on for a while now?” He remains calm, though you hear the shake in his voice when he asks.

You sigh, shaking your head. Shouting drained the last bit of energy you had left in you, “I guess. I don’t know—I just wait it out until I start feeling better and functioning like a normal person again. And when I do, I start wondering if I just imagined all that shit.”

The weight of the situation and your admission finally dawns on you in the silence.

You clench your eyes shut, bringing your hands up to cover your face in shame, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Y/N.”

You brace yourself for some harsh, reprimanding words but they never come. Instead, your breath hitches when you feel a hand fall softly on your head, and an arm pulling you into a hug.

You can’t believe it—you half expected Bakugou to recoil, or even leave, in shock and disappointment, but he’s hugging you. He’s hugging you.

You can’t help it—you burst into tears. Bakugou’s quick to rub soothing circles on your back as you cry into his shoulder. You’re quickly forming a wet patch on his shirt, but you don’t pay it any mind in the meantime. You didn’t realize how much you’ve been suppressing your pain until now. It’s liberating, yet at the same time, the all-too-familiar feeling of shame is creeping in at the back of your head.

Shame over your situation. Shave over having let yourself go to this extent. Shame over breaking down. Shame over not being able to clean after your own mess. Shame over hurting the one person you love the most.

You clench your fist against Bakugou’s chest. It’s all too much.

His voice is low and gentle when he speaks up, “We’ll get you help.”

The mention of seeking help is enough to make you tense up.

“I don’t know, Katsuki,” you shake your head. “I’m scared. Of it not working out. I can’t afford treatment not working out. I don’t know what else I would do.”

You feel him press his lips to your forehead, fleeting, “It will. We’ll find a way. And I’ll be right here with you.”

At a loss for anything else to say, you mumble a quiet apology.

Bakugou scoffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Stop saying sorry, dumbass. I want to do this for you.”

[rasby]

M6 eeping

Or, sleeping, for those who don't know! I'm sick and writing these is somehow helping me, expect more of them!!

Asra

• Puts on your shirt (that he totally did not steal) and some shorts and calls it a day (or...night, i guess)

• They don't move around too much but they talk a lot

• You've recently discovered a new passion for talking with him while he sleeps

• They get a bit embarrassed about it once you tell them at first but you two gain SOOO many inside jokes that it's worth it

• Generally, his sleeping schedule is none existant. They sleep when they feel tired. Day, night, shop, middle of the street...doesn't matter!

Nadia

• She is a lady, okay

• Has a full nightly routine, face masks, hair masks, gowns, everything.

• Once she lays into bed though, there is NO waking her up.

• You're often worried she fell into another coma

• It doesn't help that she doesn't move at all

• She's just laying there, still, not making any sound (besides the occasional snore)

• Everything in her life is scheduled and so is her sleep

Julian

• He doesn't often choose to go to sleep

• He mostly passes out at his desk in whatever he already had on

• In the rare occasion that he does go to bed, he puts on an old shirt, no pants

• However he NEEDS his socks. They're a must have

• He has cold feet!

• He both moves and talks a lot in his sleep (it's less talking more muttering tho)

• It isn't unbearable but it may take you time to get used to

• No sleep schedule whatsoever

• It's a miracle he gets sleep, honestly

Portia

• Has a collection of cute pajamas and won't sleep without them

• Also has some cute cat slippers

• When she sleeps she needs something to cling to

• Most of the time it's you

• It isn't too bad, but you might wake up with an aching back

• You see now why Pepi chooses to sleep on the chair...

• She usually goes to sleep early because her mornings are always busy

• And just in general, she likes the morning air, it's refreshing

Muriel

• If he could, he'd sleep naked

• But that isn't decent, especially now that you live with him

• He resorts to sleeping in his undies

• He doesn't move around too much but he does snore

• And it's LOUD

• You get used to it fairly quickly because compared to the sounds from the forest, it's pretty tame

• He still gets embarrassed if you tease him about it though

• He doesn't like being up during the night so he gets to bed soon after the sun goes down and wakes up at sunrise

Lucio

• He doesn't care about being decent and sleeps full on naked

• He gets really hot during the night and this way he can breathe!!

• This man also FIGHTS in his sleep

• You wake up with at least 5 bruises on each body part every morning

• He's required to take off the gold arm for bed because you got hit with it so much, you almost broke yours

• Sometimes when he's having a very vivid dream, you have to get out of bed because he's moving so much

• Usually sleeps whenever you do, he can stay awake for days and can also fall asleep in minutes

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I finally got to have my request! I waited 3 asks 😭😭

The RoR react to reader, who are known as the Queen of the Kings and have all 3; brawn, brain, and beauty. Reader have the personality of a ball of sunshine but also won't hestitate to put anyone in their places. Turns out she earned the titles Queen of the Kings because she puts a lot of monarch/leaders, especially male ones, in their place when they get cocky and also have a lot of them falling for her.

Qin Shi Huang, Buddha, Poseidon, Hades, Odin, and Thor, and romantic please!

-There were many queens throughout history, but none more notable than you, as you held many titles, with your most well-known one being Queen of the Kings.

-You were a sole ruler, inheriting the throne from your parents, and while many suitors tried to come for your hand, to become king by your side, including threatening you, you never married- as you ruled expertly on your own.

-Your kingdom never knew war, never knew famine or hardships under your rule, as you made it mandatory that all citizens, no matter the class, should have access to food, housing, jobs, and medical treatment.

-Your people loved you, as they all praised your wonderous rule, so much so that other people from other kingdoms moved to yours, as yours was so wealthy but also so happy.

-This made the kings nearby, whom you refused to marry, quite angry, seeing how well you were doing and how well liked you were.

-Many came, demanding their subjects back, but you argued back that they were free to choose where they lived. Not liking your sass, the four visiting kings tried to attack you, to put you into their place in front of their guards and the nobles from all five kingdoms.

-Armed only with your slipper, you quickly had all four kings on their knees, begging you for mercy. Seeing that you got all four of the kings, many who had been in wars before, begging you for mercy, scared of you and your slipper, they quickly lost their credibility.

-However, you weren’t cruel, giving them mercy and in turn, you offered your assistance, showing them how you ruled, so they could take it to their own kingdoms, so they would have a thriving kingdom as well.

-You weren’t to be underestimated, as you were a trained warrior yourself, but you always chose the peaceful route first, and you only resorted to violence if you had to, and those who opposed you quickly learned this.

-In Valhalla, you were still regarded as a queen and many respected you because you still ruled as you did on earth, with gentle kindness and threats of your slipper.

-You met many unique humans and gods in Valhalla, ones that you would gladly call friends, and you also found the only man that managed to capture your heart, (Love).

-He treated you like a queen, despite being a ruler himself, but to see him treating you as an equal, while those in your past wanted to undermine your power, it was refreshing, and you came to adore him.

-He learned of your past battles, including the one where you put those four kings in their place, something (Love) thought was hysterical, learning of these so-called powerful kings being put in their place, four on one, with you being the victor with your slipper.

-He thought it was just a story people told to get their children to behave, as a lot of people used slippers to keep their kids in line.

-That was, until a bold king, one who only ruled for a short while, less than a month, before being overthrown for being such a crappy leader, approached you while you were waiting for (Love), demanding you, not asking you, to go on a date with him.

-When you refused, he grabbed your arm, trying to threaten you. Those around you quickly took several steps back, afraid, getting out of the swinging zone.

-(Love) saw this boy grab you and he immediately came over, but he froze in his tracks, seeing you immediately slapping his hand off of you while removing a slipper and you bitch slapped him right across the face with it, sending him to the ground.

-Your glared darkly down at him, “Don’t grab when you don’t get your way, boy.” He was stammering, holding his cheek, begging you not to hit him again as you threatened to, to teach him a lesson.

-(Love) approached and the boy immediately ran off, terrified of you.

-Offered to go after him for you, which you brushed off, “No need- he learned his lesson.” As you said this you held onto his arm, putting your slipper back on before he bent, pecking your cheek in greeting before offering you an arm, “If he’s bold enough to try again, you may do as you wish.” You pretended not to see the grin on his face, looking excited before he whisked you away.

            -Buddha, Hades, and QSH

-Had his weapon at the ready, “He put his hands on you- he needs to learn a harsher lesson.” You grabbed onto his arm, steadying yourself while you put your shoe back on, “And you can teach him one if he tries to approach me again. It’s not the first time a young one approached me like that, and it won’t be the last.” A dark aura surrounded your lover as he glared, fully ready to make some head roll, hearing how you had been treated. It seems he needs to stay by your side more, to protect you, and to throw hands for you.

-Poseidon, Odin, and Thor

[nicohischierz]

he's canadian!: brandt clarke

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hisch you want to join the taglist let me know!!

"trevor say's you have a boyfriend," your older brother jack barged into your apartment.

you stood to the side and rolled your eyes at him. "welcome in jack! yes, I'm doing great, it's so nice to see you!" you spoke sarcastically.

jack rolled his eyes at you and inspected your living room. he was trying to see if there were any traces of a man.

“is my twin not here?” you asked, looking for luke.

jack nodded “he’s talking to his girlfriend,” he explained.

luke walked into your apartment two minutes later, pulling you into a hug. “lizzie says hi. her, y/n and isla are babysitting saira and having girls night”.

“wait you’re dating lizzie? like jacks best friend lizzie?” you asked.

both your brothers walked into the kitchen and helped themselves to your food before turning to face you.

“we just want to know if he’s good enough for you,” jack assured.

your twin grinned. “i just want to know if i can beat him up,”

you smacked both their hands away and chastised them for stealing your food. luke reached over you and grabbed a cookie from your plate.

“if you guys are here to interrogate me then please leave,” you gestures towards the door.

unfortunately, timing was not your best friend as your boyfriend decided to call you at that moment.

you glanced at your brothers before running to the living room where your phone was. luke tried boxing you out but you ran under his arms while jack tried reaching your phone.

going with your last resort, you throw your slipper at his back causing him to stop. “what the fuck scarlett, that hurt,” he complained.

at that point you didn’t really care. you texted your boyfriend that your brothers were in your apartment and he replied saying he’d meet you after the game in that case.

“this is why i need a sister. you three don’t understand boundaries,” you mumbled.

your words gave luke an idea.

the younger hughes dragged his older brother with a grin that was discomforting. jack was curious as to what his little brother had cooked up in his brain.

“don’t worry scar, rowdy and i won’t bother you again,” he enunciated.

your brother's words didn't really settle in your mind as you walked to your closet. you found one of brandt's sweaters and decided to pair that with a devils beanie to keep your brothers off your back.

the game went smoothly.

the devils won in overtime with your boyfriend scoring a goal along with jack.

you were accompanied by trevor and his girlfriend amelia as you waited for your brothers and alex to walk out.

as soon as jack and luke walked out, they made a beeline to you and told the others that you’d meet them at the restaurant.

“we found out who it is,” jack started.

he was sat in your passenger seat, his whole body turned to you. luke was sat in the middle his body pressed in between yours and jacks seat.

“you don’t know shit,” you called his bluff.

the twenty minute car ride was spent with your brothers claiming they knew who you were dating, without explicitly saying a name or describing any identifying features.

alex had texted saying they were already seated and that they had a last minute addition to the group.

you, jack and luke hadn’t even sat in your seats properly before jack started questioning everyone if they knew who you were dating.

“you. new kid to the group, do you know who she’s dating?” jack asked, pointing at brandt who sat across from him.

brandt chuckled and looked towards his teammate and you. “oh, you were serious? no sorry,” he answered.

under the table, brandt had his hand matched onto yours, holding on for dead life.

“jack, stop scaring the kid,” alex jumped in. he knew if jack found out it would be the end of your relationship and honestly he didn’t mind third wheeling the two of you.

jack squinted at brandt. after confirming that the boy wasn’t a threat he turned to amelia and trevor. “well i’m guessing amelia knows and trevor’s a busy body so he probably found out as well,”

you just rolled your eyes. “why do you want to know so badly jack? i mean you’re working things out with isla, luke is dating lizzie and quinn’s co-parenting with amanda,” you explained.

“because your my little sister,” was his answer.

you were growing angry very quickly as you turned to brandt and kissed his lips. “there. this is my boyfriend brandt, we’ve been dating for ten months and he’s not a piece of shit,”

jack dropped his fork and luke chocked on his water. “what the heck, you’re dating a canadian!” luke yelled.

once again you rolled your eyes. “y/n’s canadian and you love her,” you pointed out.

brandt leaned over and kissed your temple before looking at your brothers. “if it makes you feel any better she keeps rubbing it in my face that usa won world juniors this year,” he added.

luke rolled his eyes at brandt, still bitter over canada’s win in 2023

[sunkissed-zegras]

MANAGERS OFFICE: (I want to hear your individual headcannons on this so plz anyone feel free to add on)

First off, girly has snacks EVERYWHERE, so many cabinets and drawers and secret spaces with snacks in it. Something tells me the manager likes gummy and sour candies so there's lots of those.

Pr packages from brands, at one point her office was overflowing with boxes

She has one of those type writer keyboards and the girls will just be in her office chilling and relaxing/falling asleep to the keyboard clacks

Manager has a keyboard collection on the wall with different keyboards and keycaps.

Diffuserssss everywhere, the moment you walk into her office you're just hit with a wave of calm.

Baby also has candles lit and things like plants and eucalyptus.

Fluffy blankets!!!!

Comfiest couch and bean bags.

Big TV facing her desk (the girls 100% hooked up their consoles to it)

Manager also has a wii so they'll play wii sports, wii sports resorts, mario kart, and any just dance game

(Of course they're getting competitive at the basketball game on wii sports resorts)

Extra clothes for both her and the team, sometimes she just doesn't feel like going home to change, or she has a late night.

Organized as HELL, nothing is out of place and if something is she's gonna lose it. She literally needs to be organized she's the manager, assistant coach, photographer, & the media manager. If she's not organized she's not gonna have a good time.

She's an artist so she has some of her paintings/drawings, clay figures, origami just everywhere around her office. She also has the art things that old students have made her as well.

PICTURE WALL, it gets more and more full by the day.

Bookshelf that she has both hers and books for the girls

Adding onto that, next to Paige, Ice, KK, & Nika. Azzi is in her office the most just relaxing or reading. Manager always gets new books for Azzi to read or books Azzi has been talking about. They just sit in comfortable silence.

Manager's office is placed where she can see the sunset and sunrise sooo

The SKY PICTURES

OH OMG and the GOLDEN HOUR PICTURES????? I'm gonna die

I can go on and on about her office pictures alone, girly can POSE!... PHOTOSHOOT! POSE POSE

The tiktoks tooo....... don't get me started

Speaking of the windowww

Rainy days in her office must be heavnly.

The rain hitting the window (the girls watching the raindrops race <3), the candles and diffuser doing their thing, tea brewing, lofi playing in the background.

She has a fluffy ass carpet that the girls lay on.

manager has appliances in her office backroom, tea kettle, air fryer, microwave, yeah-

Let's say manager takes her pet to school (it's either take your pet to work day or she has a service animal) baby is laying on that carpet and sunbathing

Fidget toys

Manager has that big ass Snorlax beanbag

The girls always getting her new candles and essential oils <3

She has a mini fridge that she fills with drinks.

The backroom has an even bigger fridge.

Manager collects minifigures from a series and puts them on a shelf

She has suncatchers everywhere

https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4e/8a/17/4e8a1738f067a8f4d18147cf08e45aae.jpg

^ like that :b

Led lights (either the strips or the lamps)

Bomb ass computer set up, I think she has multiple computers and a big ass desk

Perfume shelf with her favorite scents

She's always going to office supply stores cuz she's always running out

Manager journals and has a shit ton of stationary items for it like pens, stickers, washi tape, etc.

She keeps her space C L E A N, and WILL scold anyone who fucks it up

Something tells me she's one of those people that hate shoes in her office, like she has slippers she makes people put on or they take off their shoes, keep their socks on and put them next to the door before they enter.

All the pain medication, go to her for it, it's in her drawer.

All of the teams comfort snacks and items are in her office in case they're overstimulated/ need a break.

Makeup drawer with a little mirror incase she needs a touch up.

Her lunches are amaaazing, she kinda had to start bringing extra cuz the team

Manager has little art projects sometimes, like those DIY wisteria flowers you hand from the ceiling or that cloud LED light thing where you put cotton over the led light strips and it looks like electricity.

But they buy her fast food so she doesn't mind,,,,,too much

"KK get the FUCK OUTTA MY PASTA GIRL!"

Since manager sucks with her phone, especially when she's locked in. The girls got her a LoveNote box where the heart spins everytime she gets a message, and they're just reminders from the girls or other silly messages.

The most common one being "You better be home in 15 minutes or we're gonna drag you out."

To be honest, if I were the manager, I wouldn't want to leave my office either, working or not.

-🐹

this is. a damn masterpiece CAUSE YES

baby girl is soooo damn organized and the whole food thing is so real, they're eating her lunch and she's just like... "but my pasta..." and they're like WE NEED THE CARBS!!!!!!!!!

if i was manager i'd never wanna leave either CAUSE IT SOUNDS... AMAZING HOLY COW

[skyward-floored]

(More hdw au, several months after this memory)

Gentle humming drifts through the air as Queen Adeline rocks her baby, little Zelda’s eyes finally slipping closed in slumber. Adeline looks down at her arms to be sure her daughter is asleep, and as she finishes her lullaby, she makes her way across the room, careful to step lightly.

“Goodnight my sweet Zelda,” Queen Adeline whispers, giving her tiny daughter a kiss as she places her in her bed. “Dream pleasant dreams.”

Zelda doesn’t react, other than with a quiet snuffling noise, and Adeline gives her one more smile before leaving her be.

She stifles a yawn as she then dresses for bed, slipping her shoes off with a relieved sigh. An ache is present in her toes, and Adeline winces at the state of her feet as she finally sits down.

Her husband is away checking the state of a new training outpost, so she’s been running around twice as much as normal. Adeline would have gone along with him, but Zelda was too small to travel, and things needed to be kept up with here.

Though the extra amount of work she’s had to deal with along with a baby has been taxing, even without the added stress of traveling, and she is, admittedly, worn out.

It used to be I could handle a week of days like this without batting an eye, she thinks as she lays back on her bed with a sigh. And look at me now. Nothing but an exhausted mother with achy feet.

Zelda lets out a soft coo in her sleep, and Adeline can’t help her smile.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A quiet rapping at her door makes her ears prick, and Adeline sits up, then reluctantly stands when the knocking repeats a few moments later. Seems she won’t get to rest just yet.

“Just a moment please,” she calls, putting on a comfortable pair of slippers and a robe, and then heads to the door.

She opens it, and is met with the familiar sight of one of her closest friends, Impa’s red eyes bright in the dim lighting of the hallway.

Adeline smiles. She hasn’t seen Impa all that much since she got back from her most recent assignment, even though Impa was recently appointed her daughter’s bodyguard. But her smile slips as she realizes Impa looks terrible, dark circles under her eyes, hair slipping out of its usual neat bun. She seems like she’s barely standing, and Adeline puts a hand on her arm in worry.

“Impa? What brings you here so late?” Adeline asks. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but... are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you your highness. But I need... I need to speak with you,” Impa says in a small voice, unusually small for her.

Adeline’s worry deepens, but she nods at her, and quickly gestures Impa in. She leads her to the small couch in her quarters, and Impa sits, her arms crossed over her middle and face oddly nervous.

The queen sits next to her, giving her room, but close enough to offer support if it’s wanted. She’s had an exhausting day, but her friend is far more important than getting a proper night’s sleep. Especially if she’s resorting to visiting her so late in the day, looking so terrible. It must be important.

“So what is it you need, Impa?” Adeline asks lightly, leaning back on her seat. “Is something wrong?”

Impa continues to stare at the floor, her face curiously blank as her arms tighten around her middle. When she still doesn’t say anything, Adeline hesitantly puts a hand on Impa’s shoulder, and she flinches, finally looking over and meeting her eyes.

Adeline is shocked to see tears in them.

“Impa..?” she asks softly, urgently.

Maybe it’s her quiet voice, maybe it’s her hand on her shoulder, or maybe it’s even the fact that Impa is actually very close to her breaking point, but all of a sudden her tears spill over and Impa is crying.

Adeline stares in further shock at the tears streaming down Impa’s face before quickly tugging her into a hug, her friend’s breath hitching with quiet sobs.

“Impa, whatever is the matter?” she asks as Impa cries into her shoulder, worry thick in her voice. She’s never seen Impa like this, her strong, stoic friend heaving soft sobs into her arms. Not even when they were children did Impa cry like this— something must be terribly wrong.

Impa sniffles.

“I think—” she says, letting out a hiccup. “I think I made a mistake.”

Adeline meets her eyes, Impa shakily wiping some tears away, and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“Tell me what happened,” she says gently, and Impa nods, breathing out.

Adeline rings for some tea before they start, needing something to keep herself awake, and knowing Impa will appreciate it. She knows her friend’s favorite brew, and Impa does look calmer once she has the warm beverage in her hands, her tears stopped for the moment.

Impa sighs.

“During— during the assignment,” she finally begins, looking down at her tea and not at Adeline. “With the diplomatic party to the Eldin caves. You know we met with the Gorons, but they aren’t the only ones who live in that area.”

“Yes... I recall mentions of a dragon before. I believe he was to be included in the negotiations,” Adeline replies with a gentle nod. “All of the reports said everything went very well... were they incorrect?”

“No, they were correct,” Impa says, taking a long sip of tea. “The ambassador did his job well. The negotiations went exceptionally, with both parties.”

She sniffles again.

“Other matters just... didn’t.”

Adeline offers her a handkerchief, but Impa shakes her head, her tears stopped for now.

“What happened, Impa?” Adeline asks gently, aware there’s something her friend isn’t saying. Impa sighs, and tightly closes her eyes, holding her tea cup so tightly Adeline wonders if it will break.

“...I fell in love,” she whispers finally. “With the dragon knight Volga.”

The words are like a cold splash of water, Adeline blinking in shock, but as Impa squeezes her eyes shut, Adeline shakes off her disbelief and gently pats her shoulder.

“Oh Impa,” she says softly.

Impa breathes shakily in through her nose.

“I thought him insufferable at first, prideful and so full of himself. To my dismay we kept ending up together, during meetings and dinners and spars and everything, it seemed like he was always around with a smirk on his lips and some ignorant comment. It wasn’t until there was a monster attack and we fought together that somehow I realized there was more to him, and we just... we grew closer. We didn’t trust each other a bit at first, but somehow things changed, and we... suddenly we were in love,” Impa whispers, clutching her teacup.

“I did wonder why you barely wrote to me,” Adeline says, putting her hand over Impa’s. “I assumed you were too busy... which I suppose was correct, in a way.”

Impa almost smiles, then breaths in slowly.

“Yes. I apologize for not doing so. Between Volga and my duties, I had little free time,” she says, setting her tea cup down. “But back to what happened. I... it turns out dragon courting customs are different then both Hylian and Sheikah. I gifted Volga a particularly interesting crystal I discovered one day after we sparred, but it turns out the way I presented it, and what happened beforehand... it is the first step of how dragons propose to one another.“

Adeline can’t help her gasp.

“You proposed unknowingly?”

“Yes. Volga reciprocated, but I did not realize what had happened at first... but once we both figured out what had happened, I... I went along with it. And we were married. Or, mates, as he put it.”

Adeline mulls the tale over for a moment, almost unable to believe it despite hearing it from Impa herself. Impa is many things, but impulsive is not one of them, and going along with a marriage she did not intend is... very unlike her.

Which can only mean...

“...You truly love him, don’t you?” Adeline asks softly, and Impa closes her eyes.

“I... I did. I do. Let me finish,” she whispers. “We kept everything a secret, so as not to cause problems with the negotiations. I... also do not know what others’ reactions would be, especially the other Sheikah. Volga keeps company with monsters, even if he is not one himself. So we kept it all hidden. And everything was going so well despite all of the secrecy, and we were happy, the both of us, but... but then it was time for the ambassador to leave. And me with him.”

Impa’s voice shakes a little. “Volga thought I would stay with him, help him guard over the caves. I told him I couldn’t, not with my duty to Hyrule and the royal family, and my tribe as well. I wanted us to continue our relationship from a distance, but somehow it all just... went wrong. We fought, badly, and I...”

Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “I left. I was out of time. I tried to talk to Volga once more before leaving, but he refused to speak to me. And now...”

Impa’s voice breaks, and Adeline puts her hand on her shoulder.

“I’m expecting,” she chokes out, and begins to cry in earnest again. “I’m expecting, Addy, and I don’t know what to do.”

Adeline pulls Impa back into a hug again, and her friend sobs, hurt and fear and anger and grief all spilling out with her cries.

“Oh Impa, you’ve been dealing with all of this alone?” Adeline breathes, holding her tight. “You’ve been back for weeks, I can’t imagine...”

No wonder she hasn’t been the same since she returned.

Adeline holds Impa tighter, and does nothing but rub a soothing hand along her back for several minutes, Impa trying to get a hold of herself and failing quite miserably.

“It’ll be alright. We’ll figure this out, I promise,” Adeline says gently, and Impa wipes a hand over her eyes. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Somewhere around two months,” Impa whispers. “I began to suspect shortly after returning, but the signs are unmistakable now. I confirmed it earlier.”

She sniffles and wipes another hand over her eyes, and Adeline pulls back a little.

“We’ll figure this out,” she repeats gently, taking Impa’s hands in hers. “Things will be okay, Impa. For you and your baby.”

“But this child shouldn’t even exist!” Impa cries, her eyes even more red then normal. “They will be half dragon, Adeline, and we may have an agreement that Volga is technically a part of now, but he is still not trusted! A relationship with him is unthinkable among the Sheikah, they might not even accept our marriage as legitimate! How will my tribe react at the news that I carry his child?” she chokes out.

“Impa, all will be well,” Adeline says gently.

“I will not be able to fulfill my duties to you and the princess if I have my own child to care for!” Impa says thickly. “And my tribe may very well kick me out once they learn what I’ve done. How will all be well, your majesty? Answer me that.”

“Because I will help you,” she assures, voice firm with conviction. “You are not alone, Impa. I am on your side.”

She squeezes Impa’s hands.

“I’ll help you think of a plan. A great many things can be blamed on a sleep-deprived queen who recently had a baby,” she says with a wink. “If we work together, we can keep things quiet, and nobody will ever need to know who the father is. You’ll both be safe.”

“I can’t ask that of you your majesty,” Impa whispers, and Adeline sighs, looking at her tea which is now lukewarm at best.

Zelda shifts a little in her crib across the room, but she doesn’t wake, and silence falls over the room.

“...Do you remember when we were younger, and we pretended we were sisters?” Adeline asks after a minute. Impa nods, a minuscule smile forming on her tearstained face.

“Yes. You insisted we should be twins, despite you being three years older and us both looking nothing alike.”

“Oh, we looked plenty alike, hush,” Adeline huffs, and Impa’s smile grows just a little. “...my point is that we looked out for each other then, before either of us had any sort of importance beyond titles that were meaningless to us both. That hasn’t changed. I want to help you, Impa.”

Impa looks at her, gratitude shining in her eyes, but her gaze is still dim with grief.

“You’re certain?” she asks quietly.

Adeline nods again. “I’m certain. You’re my friend, Impa, I won’t leave you to figure this out by yourself. Plus you’ve saved my life at least twice, this is the least I can do.”

“You know I don’t require repayment for that,” she murmurs.

“No, but I still want to help you,” Adeline replies decisively, and tugs Impa into a hug again. “We can get to work on a plan as soon as you’re ready. I’m behind you all the way.”

Impa exhales, lowering her gaze, and Adeline can’t help but notice when her arm returns to resting around her middle.

The silence falls back between them, drained and quiet, and Adeline rests her head back on the couch they’re on, the tiredness she’d forgotten about now returning. She doesn’t want to deny Impa the comfort of having someone sit with her though, not after so long with dealing with this alone, and so she remains where she is, Impa’s head resting on her shoulder.

“...I’m scared,” Impa suddenly whispers, in a voice so quiet that Adeline barely hears it.

Adeline swallows, and gently sets her head against hers. “All I can tell you is that I was too,” she replies softly. “And that I’m here to help. You’re not alone, Impa.”

Impa lets out a sigh, heavy with exhaustion and grief, and Adeline knows there’s nothing more she can say.

All she can do is continue to hold her friend, and support her as best as she can.

[sashimiyas]

Onions aren’t the only reason why we cry

Summary: Osamu has some important news to share with his friends and it results in group tears and a group hug

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: fluff; reader is referred to as she/her; Inarizaki things

There’s a rare delicateness in the air after you’ve closed the door. Osamu’s friends had picked up on his apprehension, waiting with bated breath when he whispered ‘I have something to tell ya guys’ the first time you disappeared from the kitchen to grab your bag and now that you’ve closed the door and officially left the apartment, everyone waits impatiently.

Atsumu taps his feet, antsy, and Suna cannot help but close and reopen apps aimlessly on his phone. Kita, whose idle hands are usually disciplined, rip napkins to even pieces and Aran has resorted to pacing the living room.

Osamu steps out of his slippers and slides down the wooden flooring with socked feet and stealth. He places a careful hand to the doorframe to stabilize himself and tilts to the side. One index finger pulls a singular blind down that has Atsumu counting seconds. It’s not until he gets to eight does Osamu turn around with a breath of relief.

“Alright,” he heaves, and just that breath balances the heavy pressure in the air, “she’s gone.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Atsumu starts muttering under his breath. He begins pacing with Aran, hands on his hips and eyes downward. Osamu wants to tell him to calm down but even he can’t steady the beating in his heart.

“I can’t take this!” Aran’s the first to break, lashing out. “Come on now. Out with what ya got to say.”

Kita takes a calm hand and grabs his old friend’s wrist. The simple touch calms Aran down, but with the words out in the air, Osamu’s garnered everyone’s rapt attention.

“Spill when ya ready,” Kita offers, “but just know ya driving us crazy.” Then he nudges Suna with his foot, “Keep 119 ready. I feel like Tsumu’s seconds away from passing out.”

Suna grunts in accord, nimble fingers tapping the screen while eyes follow Atsumu who is no longer contained in the living room, venturing the whole perimeter of Osamu’s apartment, mutterings trailing behind him.

Osamu walks back to the kitchen, bracing his hands on the edge of the island before bending his elbows and leaning down on it. The cold stone is hard against his belly and so he stands, crossing his arms across his chest. Nothing feels comfortable.

“You’re making me anxious,” Suna shifts in his seat.

“Fuck, sorry, shit,” Osamu says, using his foot to slide his joggers down. “I’m nervous because fuck, when I say it, it’s gonna be real.”

Atsumu’s done a full round and he’s back in the kitchen. Osamu takes one final breath and he glances at the friends that have gathered at his table, the ones he knows he wants by his side now and forever.

Suna still has his phone in his hands, obviously peeved even if he’s doing his best to remain expressionless. Kita is seated next to him and he’s taken to tracing the condensation on his glass. Aran is statuesque beside them, standing with his arms crossed, head down, and eyes closed. His jaw flexes at every breath and he sincerely looks like he might explode from anticipation. Lastly, he meets his brother’s eyes. They’re expectant and Osamu can assume he already knows what he’s going to say, gaze glassy and ready. Before Atsumu can escape to pacing again, he pulls his brother to his side, an arm around his shoulder, strength renewed at Atsumu’s touch.

When the bones of their hips bump, Atsumu immediately stiffens at the feel of it. He looks at his brother, wide, golden eyes full of hope. They speak paragraphs in a single second glance, and with a nod, he fills the rest of his friends in.

Osamu reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. The pull is magnetic as he and all his friends lean over the table to gather a closer glimpse.

“I’m going to propose. She’s the love of my life and I can’t imagine a life without her,” Osamu murmurs. When he looks up, he finds out that diamonds aren’t the only things that glitter. Tears gather in his friend’s gazes. They build in his too. Love comes in various ways, he realizes, and he’s very lucky to experience it in all aspects of his life.

“Fuck, I knew it! I knew it!” Atsumu wails, clinging both arms around his brother’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder, “I just knew ya was gonna say something like this but dammit, I didn’t expect ya to have the ring already.”

Aran’s beside them, lips in a trembling line, doing his best to withhold his outburst and be the rock he’s always been all their lives. He rubs a hand up and down Atsumu’s back. “Calm yaself. This is ya brother’s moment. It ain’t yours.”

Atsumu turns to cry into their childhood friend’s chest, “I’m just so happy. They’re perfect for each other.”

“I know,” Aran agrees. Osamu meets his gaze, “we knew the moment ya two met. Ya two are good for each other.”

“Stop, ya guys are making me emotional.” Osamu catches a tear with his index finger, but breaks when Aran’s finally slips past his lash line.

“Damn it” Aran warbles, “thought I could hold it in.”

“Keep going,” Suna stands so he has a better view, veering his camera over the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and zooming in on Atsumu’s pink face, “this is perfect content right here.”

“Turn that camera around!” Atsumu berates though it’s muffled by Aran’s chest, “I know ya crying over there, too!”

“We all are. Ain’t no reason to be ashamed,” Kita says calmly. He moves to Osamu’s side and grips his shoulder. Maybe it’s the recognition from his captain that has another fat tear running down Osamu’s cheek. He looks down at the box in the restauranteur’s hand, “ya made a good choice. Rock and partner.”

“Yeah?” Osamu asks.

Kita chuckles quietly, “ya second guessing now?”

“Not even,” Osamu shakes his head, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

“Good.”

They’re too caught up in the moment that they register you opening the door way too late. Five pairs of teary eyes look at you, growing wide with what you assume is embarrassment.

“I forgot my wallet. Am I–” the incredulity of the situation interrupts you. Atsumu’s a mess and Osamu’s shuffling in his spot, ducking his head down as Kita stands in front of him. “–am I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Kita says.

“Are you sure? You guys are crying.”

“Osamu was cutting onions,” Suna answers coolly, dropping his phone back into his jacket pocket.

You give him a perplexed expression and take tentative steps into the kitchen. Osamu pops back up with eyes rimmed with red.

“Where are the onions?” you direct the question to your boyfriend. With how weird all his friends are acting, his answer is the only one you trust.

“Threw them away,” Suna replies quickly.

“What?” you glance around now but it seems none of the boys can meet your eyes. “Why would you do that?”

You reach for Osamu’s face. His hand meets you halfway, placing it on his chest, “was making us cry too much.”

“In this economy?”

“In this economy?” Atsumu repeats, your words prompting more tears to fall. He latches onto you, your shoulder quickly going damp from his hot breath, “God, ya so stupid. I love ya.” 

“What the–?”

You can’t even finish your sentence when Aran pulls all three of you in. Kita joins and now you’re flush against Osamu’s chest. It’s muggy and none of them can stop sniffling. Suna finally completes the group hug and the group of you simply stand there in the kitchen.

You look up at Osamu, helpless and in need of answers. He simply replies with a quiet, lovesick smile. You notice then, that even he, the experienced chef he is, the one that brags about how he’s immune to the power of onions, has tears pooling in his eyes.

“Let ‘em be,” he places a tender kiss to your temple, “just wanna show ya that we love ya.”