#the final drabble

[spicycinnabun]

@118dailydrabble for day 100 prompt sob 🎂💗 rated: g 🎂💗 pair: buck/tommy

It was Tommy's birthday.

Nobody had acknowledged it.

He didn’t care.

Wasn’t like he was going to go home and sob into his pillow or anything.

He was off to grab a beer with Sal. It had been a while.

He wouldn’t bother Evan, who was working a shift and had only had time to send a good morning text and a kissy-face emoji. 

Tommy had responded with a morning sweetheart.

The bar was completely dead when he entered.

Then, suddenly—

“Surprise!”

Confetti. Balloons. Smiling faces. His friends.

Tommy stepped backward, eyes wide. “Oh.”

Evan hugged him, shielding him from the overwhelm with an affectionate cheek-to-cheek nuzzle. “Happy Birthday, baby. You didn’t really think I’d forget, did you?”

read all 100 drabbles here or here on ao3!

[humanjarvis]

pilot diet

🚨: reference to medical fasting, somnophilia (previously consented), reader wakes up briefly, cunnilingus, tongue fucking for sustenance basically, ambiguous female orgasm but maybe squirting if you're into that

caleb was hungry.

per the fleet’s medical personnel, all airmen were required to go on a 12-hour water fast before their annual physical exam. and his was tomorrow. 

he thought he’d be fine. thought he could last a few extra hours on an empty stomach. but he was so hungry. 

which, somehow, had brought him to your room. fidgeting in your bedroom doorway, eyes glued to your sleeping form.

it’s fine, he thinks, digging his nails into his palm. the nurses didn’t say anything about this, right? a-and she said i could whenever i needed to. we both did. so it’s fi—

a soft rustling from your bed almost makes him jump out of his skin, but you’d only rolled over in your sleep. 

it’s fine. 

slowly, quietly, he inches toward you, his hesitant shuffle becoming a prowl the closer he gets. 

when he reaches the foot of the bed, the soft pressure of his evol pulls your covers back and gently floats you down to him, your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress.

he sighs with longing as he lifts your oversized shirt. normally, he’d take the time to truly appreciate you, licking you through your panties until he could taste you through the fabric.

but he couldn’t risk it tonight. he was desperate, and you had a busy day tomorrow, too.

carefully, he pulls your panties down, his senses flicking to life as if they’ve just discovered a prize. his mouth waters at the sight of you. the sweet notes of your body wash envelop him, mixing with your natural scent. 

moaning involuntarily, he dives forward, hesitating only to remind himself not to startle you out of your sleep. 

a moment later, his lips meet your slit in a gentle, reverent kiss, his nose poking slightly through to brush against your clit. sighing at the contact, he thrusts his pink tongue forward, flattening it against your folds to test your sensitivity. and when you don’t react, he parts your folds with gentle haste. 

his only goal tonight is you gushing around his tongue. right into his mouth, filling him with your flavor.

tenderly, he suckles your clit in an open-mouthed kiss before turning his attention to your glistening entrance. he licks over and around it before plunging his tongue into you, lifting your hips to sink as far as he can get. 

your arousal oozes around him, coating his lips as his eager tongue explores inside you. licking, thrusting, swishing side to side—trying everything he can to taste all of you.

when you abruptly clench around him, he ruts his hips against the firm edge of the mattress, too focused on you to pay his swollen, leaking cock any mind. 

he only pulls away to catch his breath and make sure he hasn't disturbed you. but when he nestles back in, he gathers your folds in his mouth and releases them with a loud pop—too ravenous to notice you stirring awake.

“mngh…caleb?” you moan groggily, reaching down to grip his soft strands. 

“shh, m’sorry,” he mumbles, mouth too full of you to speak clearly. “go back to sleep, baby. i’m sorry, go back to sleep. just need to taste you.”

humming in dazed acceptance, you flop your head back down, and caleb thinks you’ve followed his orders. 

but when you start grinding lazily against his face, forcing his tongue even deeper into you, he nearly stains his boxers white.

you are going back to bed, it seems. you’re just using his face as your sleep aid—and he’s happy to help. 

for a while, you keep using each other, your half-conscious form getting off on his nose and tongue while he licks up your pooling slick.

but eventually, your movements slow before stopping altogether, and your hand goes slack in his mussed-up hair. you'd fallen back asleep, pushing his face into your pretty pussy. like you’d known there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

your movements had sent you closer to the edge—he can tell from the twitches of your lonely clit, stiff and desperate for his touch. 

leaving your entrance with a sloppy kiss, he obliges. surging upwards, he lashes his tongue across the bud, flicking and suckling it until your legs unconsciously tighten around his head. so close. 

he can’t use his mouth anymore. it has to be open, waiting, ready to catch whatever you’ll give him.

so he replaces it with his fingers. bringing his hand up to your clit, he rubs eagerly, but the gentle pinch he gives it is your undoing. as he holds the bud between long fingers, your release gushes out of you and into his waiting mouth.

between greedy swallows, he whispers reverent thank-yous, lining your thighs with appreciative kisses. he’s not hungry anymore, but that doesn’t mean he won’t eat. 

once he’s gulped down your release, he sucks your slick folds and quivering hole for more, hell-bent on drinking everything you have. but when his tongue prods your entrance again, your legs instinctively clamp shut, and he knows he’s had his fill for the night. 

raising his head for the first time in ages, he licks his glistening lips in contentment, the pleasant buzz of satiety spreading through his brain. 

[keiscorner]

2:53 am

"kei." no response. you know tsukishima has to get up early for work, but the window across from your bed is open, allowing the night breeze to creep in and sting your face. you could get up yourself, but that's what husbands are for, right?

you twist around, trying to wiggle out of your husband's grasp so you can take a better look at his sleeping face. he has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other supporting your neck to, in his words, 'protect his ears from your constant complaints about your sore neck in the morning'.

"honey?" you poke his cheek, smiling to yourself when he grunts in response. tsukishima has always been a light sleeper. you lay in silence for a few seconds before he finally lets out a sigh, opening his eyes to look at you.

"what do you want?"

you muster up your biggest doe eyes, knowing that he hates getting out of bed just as much as you do. "close the window for me?"

"no. you do it."

you sigh dramatically, gesturing at his arms wrapped firmly around you. "i would love to, but someone is holding me hostage, so i think you're going to have to do it."

tsukishima rolls his eyes, untangling his arms from your body. "problem solved." he holds back a smile when you frown and pull the blankets away from him, turning your back towards him. you're so cute. tsukishima would do anything you ask of him without hesitation, but he can't help but tease you a bit first. he'll never get tired of your reactions, and he loves that he can be a little snarky with you.

you sigh again, this time louder and more pointed, pretending to shiver just to show your husband how cold you really are, and how cruel he is for not helping. "if only someone could hold me right now...", you trailed off.

"ok, do you want me to help you or not?" he finally gives in, getting up to reach for his glasses. you win, as usual. you turn back to face him again with a smile as bright as sunshine, and despite all of the years you've been together, his heart still stops for a second. wow. okay, maybe he is obsessed with you, but he can't help it. you've clearly worked your magic on him, considering the fact that he's getting out of the bed for you when he has to be awake in a few hours. he goes to close the windows with a firm click, walking back to his side of bed.

"kei...since you're already up...", he looks back to see your guilty smile, an empty mug in your hands. "please? last thing, i swear." he give you a look that reads, "you're lucky i love you." (you know you're the luckiest person in the world.)

he takes your mug and you hear his quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen. he comes back, handing you a mug full of warm water. once you take a sip, he takes the mug from you again, placing it on your nightstand.

"i poisoned that," he quips, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before finally lying down and snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. the only reason he hates getting out of bed is that he has to let go of you, but he doesn't need to say that. he's sure you already know.

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

warnings: overstimulation (shocker)

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

for someone of his size and strength, jason todd gets pussydrunk so easily. what starts as him generously preparing you to take his huge cock quickly devolves into a feast for him—and torture for you—as he pins you to the bed with one arm and makes a mess of devouring your cunt, the thought of fucking you long lost in his mind.

your eyes water as his plump lips suck at your overworked clit while his free hand fucks you slowly, his large fingers coated in your slick as they slide back into you. you’re incoherent as you try to wriggle away from him, the ache of another unbearable orgasm forming in the pit of your belly. you buck your hips against his face, trying to delay the inevitable as he curls his fingers inside you.

undeterred by your squirming, jason puts more of his weight on you as he buries his face deeper in your cunt. his chin is glazed with your arousal and his saliva, and his dark lashes rest on his cheeks as he releases your clit with a lewd pop. he flattens his tongue and drags it up your folds, letting out a gravelly moan against your pussy at the way you taste. you can’t help the heat that spreads over your cheeks at the obscene display he’s putting on, but you find yourself unable to look away.

he withdraws his fingers from your entrance and uses them to spread you apart, pulling back from you so he can admire the glossy mess as you clench involuntarily at the loss of contact. embarrassment has you trying to clasp your legs shut, but he easily blocks you with his arms. “so fuckin’ pretty, ma,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he uses his thumb to smear your slick all over your sex, transfixed by the sight. “all mine, hm? all fuckin’ mine.”

you cry out as he latches back onto your clit, sucking hungrily while his hands keep you in place. you knot your fingers into his hair as your spine raises off the bed with the force of another overwhelming orgasm that has your thighs trembling around his head and your pussy gushing onto his tongue again, which he accepts with another moan. you can feel his smile against you as you breathe shakily, letting your legs collapse onto his shoulders.

“jay,” you whine suddenly, feeling him trail his lips along your inner thigh. “I can’t—”

“c’mon, princess,” he coos sweetly, grazing his thumb over your slit lightly. “just gimme one more, hm?”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘁 || 𝗘𝗿𝗶𝗸 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹 ||

A/n: Can't stop thinking about this, this is just pure filth and 100% will write a part two if you all want it

Warnings: Edging, teasing with a dick piercing

"I bet you’ll come just from the tip"

Those are the words Erik whispered against your neck as he dragged you into the dingy motel room.

Your thighs are already trembling, slick and parted wide across the rumpled motel sheets. The fan overhead creaks lazily, but it’s drowned out by the ragged sound of your breathing—and Erik’s low voice as he kneels between your legs, eyes locked on your pussy like he’s starving.

“You’re already soaked,” he murmurs, his voice dipped in dark amusement. His calloused fingers glide down your inner thigh, slow and teasing. “You that turned on, or is this just how much you missed me?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Not with how hard your heart’s pounding. Not with how long he’s been teasing you. You just arch your hips up, begging for him with your body—until he gives you what you think you want.

Almost.

He fists the base of his cock, and the sight of it still makes you clench. Thick, heavy, flushed dark at the tip—and there, glinting under the soft amber light, the curve of silver metal at the head.

His Prince Albert piercing...you thought his nose ring was cute on him, it went with the boyish grin he always wore on his face but that piercing, that particular one was hot

And it is just as wickedly gorgeous as the first time you saw it.

He drags it through your folds slowly, deliberately, the cold of the metal making you jolt.

“Sensitive?” he teases, cock pressed just below your entrance. “Thought so. You always get so twitchy when this ring touches you…”

"Erik." You whined, turning your head into the pillow as a shudder ran through your body.

He slides the tip up to your clit, just enough to nudge against it—once, then twice, before rolling his hips in a slow circle. That metal brushing your most sensitive spot over and over again has your back arching, a cry leaving your throat.

“F-Fuck, Erik—”

“You feel that?” he rasps, grinning down at you like a predator. “Bet you’ll come just from the tip. Just from this—” He presses the piercing directly against your clit and grinds.

Your breath chokes out. Your hips stutter.

“Ah—fuck—Erik—”

“That’s it,” he whispers, eyes burning. “Don’t even need to fuck you, do I? Just let you grind yourself on the head of my cock while I hold you open.”

He shifts, one hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapping around the base of his shaft to hold it steady as he continues to rub the piercing over your clit in agonizing circles.

"You're so fuckin hot, I wish I can see how good you look following apart."

You’re a mess beneath him now—hips writhing, your slick soaking the head of his cock. Every press of the metal sends jolts through you, tighter, hotter, higher. Your fingers clutch at the sheets.

“Go ahead,” he growls. “Come for me, baby. Come without me even inside you.”

It hits like a wave breaking—your body locks up, a sob tearing from your throat as the orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, trembling as your pussy clenches around nothing, your vision white-hot. Tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as your hands clutched the sheets below you, your walls clenching around the piercing.

He doesn’t let up.

Even as you tremble, he rubs the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, drawing out every last aftershock.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, stroking a hand over your thigh. “So fucking good for me. So perfect.”

You’re still gasping when he leans in, voice low and rough by your ear.

“Now… let me see what happens when I actually fuck you.”

And with one brutal thrust, he sinks inside you—piercing and all.

You scream.And he smirks.

Because he will never tire of you.

[aakeysmash]

Katsuki just needs you to lay your eyes on him to get hard.

You can be sleepy and looking up at him with your eyes half open and he gets a boner.

Roughed up in the morning, teeth still not brushed and you just peek at him from one eye before snuggling into his open arms? He’s getting a boner.

Maybe you’re moaning with his food in your mouth while complimenting how good of a cook he is with sparkling eyes, and his blood rushes straight to his dick.

And it’s not always because he wants to fuck you, even if he does have a super high sex drive and would bend you over 4 times a day if you’d let him.

Sometimes it’s just because his heart skips a beat while thinking about how softly only you know how to look at his soul, even behind all his rough exterior.

[hyruling]

number 50 for the prompts! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

—

“You’re staring.”

He is. Has been, all night, and apparently finally been caught.

They’re in the kitchen, again, and Buck is watching him, flushed from the alcohol they’ve been drinking and the exertion of the game of charades that got a little too rowdy. Everyone else is in the living room, clustered around Bobby like a herd of elephants protecting their young, and when Buck got up to refill the snacks Eddie unfolded himself from the armchair and followed.

So yeah, he’s been staring. As if it’s his fault. Buck is wearing that cardigan that pulls tight across his chest and makes his eyes look stupidly blue. He’s forgone any hair product, curls bouncy and so touchable it’s been driving him crazy all night. And Bobby is in his house, something he thought he’d never get to see again. Chris is home, tucked away in his room with Denny and Mara and probably Jee, entertaining themselves away from the embarrassing adults. The world is right again, and pleasantly fuzzy from all the wine Karen’s been plying him with all night.

And Buck. He’s already mentioned the cardigan, and the hair, but Buck has been in his element tonight. Full of laughter, the spirit Eddie was worried had been broken forever repaired and thriving. He’s been fluttering around the house, refilling drinks and serving food with a bright smile that he can’t get enough of.

Buck’s glancing over at him now, hands busy with re-plating a charcuterie board. He has a soft smile just for Eddie, and it makes him a little nauseous with how painfully in love with him he is. How stupid he’s been to have wasted so much time pretending he wasn’t.

“Earth to Eddie?” Buck says, grin widening into something teasing.

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, settling against the counter behind him while Buck works at the island. He fiddles with his wineglass, nearly empty, and watches Buck cut up a block of gouda cheese. He’s pushed the sleeves of the cardigan to his elbows, forearms flexing, and Eddie can’t quite make himself look away.

“I said you’re staring,” Buck repeats with a little laugh. “Did you follow me in here just to watch, or are you gonna help?”

“I’m fine right here,” Eddie answers, delighting in Buck’s eye roll, the blush that creeps into his cheeks. “It’s a good view.”

Buck goes crimson, drops the block of cheddar he’d been about to slice. “Eddie. You can’t say that kind of shit when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Why?” Eddie teases, and the back of Buck’s neck turns red. Not for the first time, Eddie wonders how far it spreads. “Does it make you flustered, Buckley?”

He knows it does. But that certainty was hard earned, having spent weeks agonizing over living in such close quarters with Buck, telling himself all kinds of stories about why his heart raced when their hands brushed over the coffee pot, convinced Buck must not feel the same way. Until his tía had walloped him upside the head, metaphorically speaking, a few weeks in and told him to lock Buck down before it was too late.

In her own words, of course.

He suspects she had a similar conversation with Buck, given the way he’d come inside after seeing her to her car, red-faced and avoiding Eddie’s eyes. They’d stuttered and tiptoed around each other for a few days before settling back into their normal, which Eddie had finally come to realize was not most people’s normal.

“I—shut up,” Buck says, and picks up the cheese.

But now that he’s started, he can’t help himself. Fueled by three and a half glasses of wine, and the profound joy that’s bursting to spill out of his ribcage, he inches closer until his hip presses into the island right next to Buck.

Buck goes briefly rigid but recovers quickly — Eddie wouldn’t even have noticed the slip if he wasn’t watching him so closely. He keeps slicing cheese methodically, eyes fixed determinedly on his hands.

“Looking a little flushed there, bud,” Eddie says. “Too much wine?”

Buck huffs and flushes harder. “I only had two glasses. What’s that, your fourth?”

“You monitoring my drinking?” Eddie asks, and Buck chuckles.

“Only cause I know you’ll have a massive headache later,” Buck replies. “Good thing I stocked up on Excedrin last week.”

He finishes the cheese and starts in on some sausage, unwrapping it from the plastic, and Eddie can’t resist.

“Nice sausage you got there.”

Buck chokes on spit and drops the knife, turning to face Eddie at last. “Eddie. What is this?”

“What?” Eddie asks innocently. He’s too drunk to properly flirt, never flirted with a man before and is rusty nonetheless; but Buck is responding beautifully, in a way that he knows only he could tease out of him.

“You’re complimenting my sausage?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s a nice one, that’s all. Thick, firm. I’d like to taste it—”

Buck’s hand covers his mouth, cutting him off, and his blood sings from the contact, from Buck flush against him, so close he could count his eyelashes. He barely resists the urge to lick his hand.

“Eddie,” Buck says in a low, plaintive voice that’s doing nothing to calm down his dick, which is not uninterested in the sudden lack of personal space. “You gotta—you know what you’re doing. Don’t—don’t be mean.”

And that—he knows then that they’re not on equal footing, that Buck is still operating under the illusion that Eddie’s not attainable, not already his. That the uptick in Eddie’s heated stares, his hand on Buck’s lower back while he’s cooking, the hip checks at the bathroom sink, have not communicated as clearly as he thought how much he wants this.

So Eddie nods, still silenced by Buck’s hand, and purses his lips until Buck can feel them against his palm. Buck snags it back like he’s been burned, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says softly. He picks up Buck’s hand and presses another kiss to his knuckles, keeping his eyes fixed on Buck’s. “I do know what I’m doing.”

Buck looks lost, staring at him the way he had when Eddie appeared amongst the rubble and dust weeks ago — like he’s a ghost, like he’d never seen him before.

“A-are you sure? Because Eddie, I can’t—”

Eddie closes the scant distance between them, catches Buck’s jaw in one hand, and kisses him.

Buck doesn’t kiss him back at first, frozen in Eddie’s gentle grip — and then he’s making a soft, hurt sound and pulling Eddie closer, hands immediately snaking under his shirt to find the skin of Eddie’s back. His head spins when Buck’s tongue teases at his lips, and he tastes like wine and salt and—

“Buckaroo, what’s the hold up—oh.”

Buck rips away, putting nearly a foot of space between them, and Eddie laughs, giddy. Chim looks like the cat who got the cream when he turns around, face split into a wide grin.

“Whatcha doing gentlemen?” he asks with a snap his gum, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Buck sputters behind him, but Eddie just shrugs and leans back until he feels Buck’s chest pressed against his back.

“Nothing really. I was just asking Buck about his sausa—”

Buck’s hand slaps over Eddie’s mouth again, pulling him tighter against his chest with the move, and Chim howls out a laugh.

“I knew it!” he cries, clapping his hands together and spinning around. “Maddie! You owe me fifty bucks!”

“Hey!” Buck calls, but it’s too late — Chim’s gone.

Eddie does lick Buck’s hand then, and Buck releases him with a squeal. Eddie turns around and chuckles at Buck’s red face, staring at him helplessly. He can’t help but lean up to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, stroking over the other with a gentle thumb.

“We’re about to be swarmed,” Eddie says. He can already hear exclamations and shrieks coming from the living room and knows they have seconds before their little bubble is shattered. “I love you, and I mean it. And I really can’t wait to try your sausage.”

Buck snorts and drops his head to press against Eddie’s forehead, eyes brimming with what look like tears. Eddie thumbs a stray one away with the hand on his cheek. “Eddie, I—I love you so much, it’s—I—”

“What have we here?”

It’s Hen that breaks them apart this time. Buck’s smiling sheepishly over Eddie’s shoulder, and when Eddie turns, he sees at least four people trying to crowd in the doorway, the rest cloistered behind them in the dining room. Buck sighs, and drops a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head before beckoning them in.

“Alright. Get in here, you animals.”

Like a dam breaking their family descends, pouring into every nook and cranny, and Eddie swears his kitchen has never felt so warm.

—

prompts xo

[ruinix]

Thinking about dad!quinn who’s perfect not only with the newborn baby, but also with mama and he looks smoking hot walking out the hospital-💕

Hey there, lovely. Little confession, sometimes I just stare at my ceiling and think of Quinn and his future kiddos. He'll be such a great dad. I know it. I am a 100% believer of him being the best dad in the future. Do note that I have no idea how delivery rooms are...I've never been pregnant (thank goodness, i am not ready). This one ended up having a little bonus in your POV. As usual, you can skip it if you don't wanna read it... :> I hope you'll like this. 🥺🧎🏻‍♀️

His Little Princess

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Fluff, a bit suggestive tones. Pregnancy and birthing (Pregnant!reader; mentions of cravings, pain during labor, epidural), Quinn being a fussy partner and dad

Count: 3889 words (+ 942) | Masterlist | Taglist

You press a kiss on Quinn’s cheek, making him instantly turn towards you, his hands wrapping around you, so he can kiss you fully on the lips. Not so subtly, he runs his hands over the swell of your belly. His heart flutters in his chest.

“40 weeks, my Love,” he giddily reminds you, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Any time now,” you replied with a giggle. “Just going to sit on my ball.”

Without a word, Quinn escorts you to your yoga ball, his head filling up with worry at the sight of your waddle. He’s always concerned with how your center of gravity has shifted, with how your legs are probably aching, but he won’t dare try to touch you if you’re going to sit on it. You made it perfectly clear that you need your space when you’re doing that, especially when you caught him basically drooling over how your ass looked.

“You want something?” Quinn asks while you settle. “Apples?”

“Yes, please.” You nod happily. “No skin?”

“Anything for you, my Love.” He kisses your head before he turns to prepare apples.

Taking one from the fridge, from the fruit drawer that was brimming with Honey crisp apples, the one you have craved constantly throughout the pregnancy, which are perfectly red with splotches of yellow and green, he easily skins it. He never really knew how to do that before. He would always get huge chunks of apple flesh with the skin, but now, he can remove the skin in a continuous spiral.

“Can you give me a few slices with a bit of skin, Quinny?” you ask loudly as you turn on the TV to watch your show.

“How many?” He asks, finishing the first apple, slicing it into six.

“Just a few.”

Your vague answers don’t faze Quinn anymore. They never do. Before and during this pregnancy. But the way your ass moves right now though, it makes him gulp, secretly praying that you might ask him to help you get the baby out faster. That help meaning you and him gently fucking you, but you’re not. He can only sigh and swallow his horny thoughts.

It only leads to him getting worried and jittery. The baby might come any moment now. The problem is Quinn has always been so jittery all throughout your pregnancy. He tried—still trying—to appear so put together and calm. He must or else he will lose it in a frenzy of nerves. You don’t deserve him crashing out ever. Not when you’ve done so much carrying your—and his—child.

Catching you smoothen your hands over your tummy, he finishes up with your apples. He quickly places it on the table near you, then he softly runs a hand over your stomach, his cheeks burning when you press your hand over his, his soul lurching when the baby kicked right against his palm, his alarm ringing when he sees your wince after another kick.

“She says, hi,” you say in a tight voice.

“Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling on the floor, holding himself back from taking his hand away because you are clenching his fingers tightly. He watches you take deep breaths.

“It was a strong kick,” you sigh. “I’m fine.”

He cannot be contained. He is panicking. The baby kicking so hard had made you sore so many times, yet he cannot get used to it. He hates seeing you in pain.

 Slowly he leans down, pressing a kiss right where he felt the kick. He says, “Take it easy on mommy, Princess.” He kisses again, feeling a softer push just below. “That’s it. Gentle, sweetie.”

“She always listens to you,” you softly say, your eyes shining with tears. “Oh, Quinn, I wanna see her already.”

He reaches up, swiping the tears that fell with his thumbs, then he kisses your cheeks, over the tear tracks, on your lips. He already knows that you’re worrying about your little one “getting stuck” or past due, about pushing her out, about little fingers or toes missing because it’s possible. Anything’s possible and that worries you. It also worries Quinn. So much.

“Me too, my Love. She’s going to be fine,” he eases you. “She’ll be pretty and perfect.”

“What if—”

Quinn cuts you off with a small peck on the lips. “It will be okay. No matter what. She’ll be perfect.”

“Promise?” You stare at him with wide eyes.

“Yes. I promise.” He nods, offering you a slice of apple. The worry in your eyes dissipates as you accept it. “Scoot over so I can watch too.”

You grin, expertly maneuvering yourself, while he settles on the couch. He tries to watch the show, but nerves are bubbling up his throat. Something just feels off. Still, as usual, he settles, reminding himself that it would be okay. He keeps looking at you to ground himself. You look so peaceful while you watch the show and munch on your apple, taking little sips of your well-decorated water bottle.

Right now, you can easily get spooked, so Quinn keeps his worries to himself. Although, all he wants to do is hover over you, make sure you’re all safe and comfortable like he always did throughout the pregnancy. 

He does his best, because it’s what you deserve. Every craving you ask for—no matter how late you suddenly craved it, no matter how tired he was—is provided. The only thing he asked for was to press his ears and hands against your belly, to feel the little baby inside, even when she was still so small. When he was on the road, he would use Uber to get them for you or bribe your friends and his to deliver exactly what you wanted.

He wonders now if you need a massage. He loved doing that. Your feet. Your ankles. Your legs. Your back. Even your breasts. They’re always so tender. He makes sure to press kisses on your skin, right where you’re aching, muttering his apologies, and praises and compliments about how strong and amazing you are. Because you are.

His eyes follow your feet that are planted on the floor. You’re wearing the grippy socks that you bought online with cute bears on them. The sight of them makes him feel giddy. You have quite the selection of socks now. He always inspects them when he kneels and helps you into your shoes, doing your laces or straps. Sometimes he will mentally curse at the shoehorn that you purchased—technically it’s for both of you but he rarely uses it—while he also thanks its existence because it helps you whenever he’s not home.

The number of times you two went out shopping. He can still feel his excitement from those sprees. He took it upon himself to listen and be attentive to the quality of everything. Durability. Longevity. Comfort. He had taken out his phone as soon as the shop clerk finished explaining the features to look up reviews on YouTube or TikTok. Thank fuck for those apps. Nothing had hopefully escaped him. He would be so critical until you told him what you wanted with the reason being “just because”. Quinn gladly agreed—still will today—and bought whatever it is.

When it comes to clothes, he still feels mushy at the memory of the little pajamas, dresses, onesies, mittens, socks, bibs, and beanies. They’re all so fucking cute. Plus, the way you smiled while you were looking at them got him falling for you again and again. You just looked so at ease, so excited, so happy. He is happy too.

When you two shopped for maternity clothes, all the help he could do was to hold everything you chose and wait while you fit them all. Everything is so amazing on you. For every outfit, he felt his knees grew so fucking weak that he had to sit down, gazing at you with hearts for eyes, his chest squeezing at the mere sight of your beauty and at the sight of your tummy being showcased by the clothes. Every time you two came home, he would be severely attached to you. He cried his eyes out while he hugged you so tightly. He can’t help himself. He just loves you so much and you are carrying his child. Even now, you are wearing leggings and a flowery shirt that cinches under your breasts and flares like a dress. You are so effortlessly beautiful and hot.

When you stand up to get something from the kitchen, his eyes follow you. He wants to come up behind you and take all your weight with his big hands securely lifting your belly. He’s done it so many times after he saw it in TikTok and he will do it again. However, he just ends up staring at you from the couch, truly mesmerized. He always is.

Back to that app, it really helped him a lot. There are lots of mothers there that shared their experiences—in addition to the help he received from his Mom—which helped him prepare the hospital bags for you and the baby. Those bags are already in the car, waiting for the big day. On top of all that, he also finished stocking the nursery just a week ago.

Quinn is proud that he did his diligent research. Maybe, a tad too diligent, because when he offered you his servitude for your perineal massage—which he had heard about after he went into deep, deep scrolling through natural birth—he confused you so much. It was understandable because what the fuck is a perineal, right?

You thought Quinn was being fucking horny—which he is always. But then, after a lengthy doctor’s appointment, it was explained and suggested since you were in your 34th week. He wasn’t blind that you got embarrassed for not believing him and clearly you were expecting him to gloat. He didn’t. Why would he? It would’ve hurt you and him. So he said the same words he had said before when he was still suggesting it, “I will help you.”

The waterworks that day were long. He didn’t let go of you until your tears were dried, until you two fell asleep instead of starting the massage. You spent the whole next day trying to do the massage without you laughing at Quinn’s look of focus.

“I need to pee,” your voice breaks him out of his daydreaming.

“Do you need help?” He’s already standing when you shake your head. “Oh.”

“Oh,” you repeat, mimicking his voice. You laugh, making your cheeks flush. “You are so silly, Quinn.”

He watches you disappear in the hallway. His hands start to shake from the nerves. He needs a clear view of you. The need to stand outside the bathroom and wait for you is making him jumpy. He tries to settle himself, rubbing a hand over his chest, sitting down then standing back up again. He starts to pace. It really, really, really feels like something is off.

Minutes pass.

The feeling just expands and expands, festering the longer he doesn’t see you.

He needs—

Then he hears you call his name.

Quinn never ran so fast.

“What? What is it?” Quinn asks, opening the door so quickly. He finds you sitting on the toilet. Your eyes are so wide. Your calmness is the only thing that’s keeping him from losing it because for some reason, he knows. “What is it?”

“I thought I peed myself…but my water broke.” You carefully stand. “I want to change first.”

“Okay,” he nods.

He quickly supports you. He’s trying his best not to panic, but his hands are shaking as he helps you out of your clothes, into a new dress, into sandals. He’s dissociating. Everything is blurring and the only thing keeping him afloat is the feel of your hands gripping his. He can barely function as he does your seatbelt. He tries to calm down, but he is fraying, panting as he falls to his knees with his eyesight blurring.

“The stuff.” He grips your hand. “I need to get our—”

“Quinn,” you firmly say. Your other hand finding his cheek, urging him to look at you. He does. “You’ve prepared this car weeks ago. The bags are in the trunk. Get it together, Q.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. He finally gets the strength to stand. “We need to hurry.”

He rounds the car, only to realize he doesn’t have his fucking key. He nearly bolts until your hand rests on his shoulder.

Softly and unhurriedly, you give him the car keys. “We have precious cargo, Q. Please drive safely,” you say, giving him a nod.

“I will.”

The car ride to the hospital is quick. Quinn takes that time to calm down, to ground himself. He manages that, not losing his head when your contractions started halfway through the ride. He didn’t spiral then. He has collected and tucked his frayed edges. He manages to get you safe in the hospital and now both of you are in a labor room with the bags stored on the couch.

He’s on you, gripping your hands when you let out a pained groan. He listens to the labor nurses, gulping down the panic that still tries to come up, because he will not stress you over him again. You are going through so much. You need him whole. And he is.

He attentively watches the doctor check the baby through an ultrasound, sighing in relief that the little princess is still in prime position and your cervix is slowly dilating. No C-section is needed. Just like what you wanted, but the contractions are truly getting to you. Every groan and moan of pain, every squeeze of his hand, every sob is getting to him. His heart squeezes in a painful way. Even more so, when your labor progresses, which means the interval of contractions is more frequent.

"It hurts, Quinn. Hurts,” you cry out, breaking his heart. "I need something. I can't. Make it stop."

You don’t need to tell him twice. He shouts for a nurse to get the forms. He understands that you’re asking for an epidural and you’ll get it. Whatever you need he’ll give it to you. As the nurse explains the consent forms, you grip his arms tightly, sitting up. He helps you change your position, on your knees and the headboard. The nurse sets up a bar for you to grip. 

“You’ll be okay, mama,” the nurse eases, tucking the forms into her arms, stepping out.

Quinn almost yells for them to hurry the fuck up, but the anesthesiologist appears to administer it. The yelp coming from you makes him twitch. He almost punches the specialist who explains it will work in ten-to-twenty minutes. Why the fuck not immediately? He wants to demand that. He just needs you not be in pain.

“I’m here, my Love,” he whispers, kissing your temples as you sag against him. He wipes your sweat with a soft towel. “You are doing amazing.”

“How are you so calm? You were panicking an hour ago,” you hiss, groaning as another contraction run through you.

Quinn isn’t calm now. He’s losing his shit. He worries about you. He worries about the little one. An hour. It has been an hour. He doesn’t know if that’s normal. He wants to search it up, but he doesn’t want you to see him fucking fumble with his phone when you’re doubling in pain. He wants to ask the nurse, but he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to call his parents who are on their way to Vancouver and his brothers who are still in New Jersey.

He may have tucked away his frayed edges, but they are still unravelling. He is unravelling. Inwardly. He can’t tell you about it. So, he presses soft kisses on your shoulders when you shift to lay down.

“No words, Q?” You sigh in relief, your grip on him loosening. “It’s working. I think.”

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, blinking at him. He knows you’re still waiting for his answer while he wipes away your sweat. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“What if I don’t want more kids in the future?” You blurt out just as a nurse walks in. The nurse clears her throat, doing her business of checking your status. Your attention burns into his soul. “Q?”

“I’ll get a vasectomy,” he says in a low tone, clearly aware of another person’s attention. The nurse is a bit…nosy. Why is she not going away? What the fuck.

“What?” you ask, looking so confused.

“I mean it. You hated your birth control so you will not be going back to that.” He tucks your hair behind your ears. “If you don’t want more kids, then I don’t too.”

Ever since he met you, whatever makes you happy makes him happy. Genuinely. He is so attuned to you. Everything he does is for you. He needs you to be happy and be you. That’s all he wants. All he needs. Because you breathe life into him now. His heart beats inside yours. You’ve taken it from him since before you married, since before you accepted him as your boyfriend, since before you met each other.

Quinn doesn’t want to take his heart back.

It will be yours.

Forever.

Until you two grow old.

Until you two find each other in the next life.

“I mean it. Just tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.” Quinn grips your hand. He leans for a kiss but stops when the nurse stands up.

“You two are so sweet, but you’re crowning now, mama,” the nurse announces.

Maybe Quinn spoke too soon. He is spiraling. The obstetrician and labor nurses come in. He’s helped into a hospital gown and a hair cap over his head. His ears are ringing as he holds your hand. He can’t focus on what’s happening. He’s just there. His lips are moving and whispering encouragement into your ear, but he’s gone.

Gone until loud cries break him out of the haze.

The little princess—his and yours—is so small as they bring her to your chest. Quinn’s heart tumbles at the sight of you cooing and welcoming her. Such a little one who is still wet yet so incredibly red, crying her eyes out, showing off her strong lungs. His eyes fill up with tears because she is so beautiful like you.

“You’re amazing,” Quinn sobs, kissing your head, kissing a soft peck on your lips. “I love you so much, my Love. You did it. You are so strong.”

“Oh, Quinn,” you sniffle. “She got all her fingers and toes.”

She does. Now you don’t need to worry. He doesn’t need to worry.

“Look at her ears. They’re so hairy.”

“Hairy? Just a bit fuzzy,” he thinks, gazing at his daughter’s ears. He can’t help but look between you and the baby. He can’t even hear the doctor announcing that you will be delivering your placenta next. He’s cataloging your shared features. “Nose. Definitely your nose. Your lips.”

While she also has your smile? Quinn hopes she does. You have the prettiest smile.

“She got a little birthmark behind her ear,” he says out loud. You and one of the nurses look. It’s the slightest birthmark. Just two shades darker than the baby’s complexion. It’s almost like…

“It’s like a little heart,” the nurse remarks.

Quinn nods. His heart almost melts when his little one finally stops crying, getting more at ease with the world. He quickly starts snapping some photos, smiling when you grin so proudly. You should be proud.

He almost jumps when it’s his turn for a skin-to-skin contact. He nearly vibrates as he made to sit down after you deliver your placenta and the baby is brought against this chest.

It finally clicks in his head how small his baby is. He can cover her whole back with his hand. When he reaches for the curled-up fist, he chokes at how little her fingers are.

Then those fingers just open and clasp around his pinky.

Immediately, he looks towards you. His tears fall in heaps. He can barely see you as he feels the soft steady breaths of the baby, her heart beating quite fast. Is it supposed to be this fast? He doesn’t fucking know. Maybe it’s just his heart? No. It’s not. His little baby’s heart. Oh, so precious.

He blinks hard, keeping the tears away, looking around to see if someone is panicking, but no one is. He hears snippets of words.

“She’s healthy baby.”

“Needs to get cleaned up.”

“You did well, mama. No tears.”

“Thank goodness. Quinn, did you heart that? The massages worked,” you say in a soft yet exhausted voice. That has him in full alert, watching you so intently. You still look pretty, but you are blinking so slowly. A smile is on your face as you reach for him. He stands, holding his daughter securely, giving her to you when your hand runs over her back. “Just want to sleep a bit.”

“Is that normal?” He asks the doctor and nurses who clearly see his distress as you fucking pass out. “My wife—”

“Is fine, Mr. Hughes,” a nurse says, giving him a reassuring nod. “It’s normal to be exhausted after you gave birth. She’s fine. No excessive bleeding. We will clean up and we’ll take your little one in a few.”

He nods, not knowing what else to do, so he leans closer to you, brushing your hair away, brushing his knuckles gently over the baby’s cheek. Oh, so soft. His heart melts when she tries to open her eyes. He gasps when she somehow manages. Just a quick flutter that exposes her eyes are the color of his. His. His baby girl has his eyes.

He starts crying again, sobbing into your hair.

He can’t help it.

He’s feeling so much love, and it comes out as tears.

At some point, he doesn’t know how much time has passed, but someone is helping him to calm down as his unnamed baby is taken away for necessary checkups. He knows she’s in good hands, so he stays with you, not even stepping out of the room so the forms are being brought to him. He feels guilty for being such a fucking diva for that, but he can’t leave you. He doesn’t think he can even step out of the room without crashing out.

Then he makes his calls, going through the list of his contacts, telling everyone about his perfect baby girl in whispered yet prideful tone. His hand is wrapped around yours.

“She got her nose and her lips, Mom. Got the fuzziest ears,” he sniffles. “So perfect.”

He finishes his last call. Gazing at you, he feels his emotions overflowing once more. For the last time before you wake up, he cries.

A promise forms in his heart, carving itself deeper that he will carry it every day of his life.

He promises to protect his little one and live for her.

He’ll love her as he loves you.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

When it’s time to be discharged, you stare at Quinn who carefully helps you into a wheelchair. He has been fussing over you for the whole stay. His cheeks are still flushed when he notes your dress—as if he didn’t buy it with you—after his arrival from a quick trip to the car and the reception area for your discharge papers. He’s so cute. Always so gentle. Even more so now when he greets your daughter, calling her his princess, before he lifts her up from the hospital bassinet.

You heard and saw him cry so much. Your Quinn has been on an emotional roller-coaster as you have. He looks at you with so much warmth and affection, so much pride for you and your baby, so much love and adoration, so much want that you can’t even think about how different your body is now. You told him that you might not want another child, and he replied something about a vasectomy. He’s always putting you first. And it’s clear he will be putting your daughter first too.

You can already see her getting so spoiled but also keeping her well-behaved. Quinn has that air of being the perfect dad.

You just know it and you’ll be right next to him in caring for the little one.

Honestly, you don’t even know if you want another child or not. That’s okay. Never once in your life did Quinn rush you to a decision. Always so patient and kind. But the way he’s staring at you, you might be leaning on the former. He looks so hot in his white linen shirt and khaki shorts. If he doesn’t stop dressing like that, it will be a quick decision.

But you won’t say that just yet.

You just gave birth.

Again, there’s no use to rush.

“Here she is, my Love. All bundled up.” Quinn grins as he presents his baby girl.

“You swaddled her up so well, Quinny,” you chuckle, holding her securely, softly and lightly caressing the little mark behind her fuzzy ear.

It’s still so amusing to you how hard Quinn insisted that her ears are just fuzzy and not hairy. You don’t think that he knows that it will be gone in a few weeks. It’s always so refreshing knot that he doesn’t know everything, because this man had researched quite a lot. Sometimes it amazes you. Sometimes it annoys you. Because, seriously, how can someone—a first time dad—know so much more than you? Still, it’s what makes Quinn the best.

“All settled?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his three-day-old scruff feels so rough and nice.

“Yes. I wanna go home now. Our parents are waiting,” you remind him. You see the way he pursed his lip in a tight line, his eyebrows frowning, so you scold him, “You can’t monopolize our princess, Quinn.”

Luckily, all of your parents are understanding that you two prefer them not to visit in the hospital, that you two just needed the calm to settle your little one, but the three-day stay has you already wanting to show off your daughter. Quinn looks like he just wants to keep you and his baby to himself. Like a mighty dragon hoarding his golden treasures. Gosh, he’s so silly, hoarding you to himself after he gloated so much over the phone calls and video calls.

“Quinny,” you whine, pouting that has him immediately melting.

“Fine,” he sighs, booping your daughter’s nose which got her cooing. You two go still at the how delicate she moves which is barely since she is still sleeping. “They need to be quiet.”

“Quinn, you already told them that.” You chuckle as he grumbles while pushing the wheelchair.

He told everyone that they need to be quiet. He’s already getting too protective over the little one. He’s firm with the no-kisses rule, hand washing, and facemasks. You try to tell him that the masks can go, but he won’t have it. You saw how his hackles were rising and the panic in his eyes were doubling, so you agreed. You ended up consoling him for ten minutes, telling him that your and his parents agreed.

“Maybe they should stay at a hotel.” Quinn hovers over you as you stand up and place the little princess in her baby seat.

“We got lots of room, Quinny.” You let him secure the seatbelt, seeing the way he blinks his tears away. “She’ll be okay.”

“You’ll be okay?” He steps into your space, his arm going around you. “I don’t want them to overwhelm you. You need to rest.”

Oh, he’s worrying about you.

You reach up, your heart beating harder in your chest when he leans his head into your touch. “I’ll be fine. They’re also excited to meet our baby. I want them to see how she looks like you and did you hear? They’re preparing dinner for us. Our moms told me they got some tricks to show me.”

You can see his brain going into a full overload. He’s overthinking again, so you rest your forehead against his. You feel his shuddering sigh as you give him a small kiss.

“Just tell me if you get uncomfortable with anything.”

“Okay,” you say. It’s clearly not enough so you add, “I promise.”

A beautiful smile spreads on his face. He’s so handsome. Your stomach is filling up with butterflies. You swoon as he opens your door for you and do your seatbelt. You silently watch him round the car and enter. You can’t help but think that he’s so perfect and that you are so lucky.

[yuuchama]

(Leona Kingscholar x gender neutral reader)

Leona had groaned and ranted against you sleeping in his bed all night. "There's no room," he claimed while sprawled out on a mattress wide enough to fit an entire Spelldrive team. If you laid down to claim the bed's edge, he'd kick you to the carpet or nudge you over the side and quickly pretend to be asleep. The hours he spent coming up with excuses and dirty tricks would have been better spent actually sleeping.

Many times he'd yawn and repeat, "what kind of herbivore willingly crawls into the den of a beast?" while keeping you at arm's length. Every time you thought he was out cold and snuck back over, he'd swat you away. It was a raging battle of endurance.

Yet when morning came, Leona sang a completely different tune. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of staying up late. Perhaps he was just done fighting his feelings. At some point he really did fall asleep, allowing you to take over one pillow and the fringed corner of a blanket. They were temporary luxuries.

You awoke with the heavy prince on top of you, each slow breath warm against your ear as he nuzzled his chin against your shoulder. His arm curled around your head. Strands of long, dark brown hair stuck to your lips. Sunlight poured through the windows, bringing the dry heat of the day with it. You could have cooled off by moving a leg if the prince hadn't hooked his own knee over your thighs.

"Leona...?" You whispered the name. The pressure of his chest pushing down on yours made inhaling an inconvenience. Your hope that he would wake up was successfully answered by a twitch of his ear against your cheek.

"Leona, I can't breathe." Though still half asleep and uncoordinated, you felt uncomfortable. The sensation of pins and needles danced in your hands, along the bottom of your feet, and you wanted to roll over. Leona's tail tuft began to swish lazily, trailing over the hem of your shirt. Bit by bit, it helped you wake. "I want to get up."

You strained to move out from under the mass of muscles, grabbing the mattress's edge to pull yourself up. Leona huffed and buried his face further against your skin. There was an odd sensation at the base of your neck. A little damp, a little sharp, and very warm. Leona gently nipped at your throat until you stopped trying to escape.

"Did you just bite me?" Though tired, you were now fully awake and could take in more of the situation. Leona responded with a sleepy grunt. You retaliated with a couple strikes to his side, weakly aiming for the only spots within reach. "You're hot! Let me up!"

It was the wrong course of action. Leona stirred, only to move his arm across your chest and lock both legs around yours. Fingertips grasped at the fabric of your attire. "Be quiet," he grumbled, turning his face towards yours. He knew you'd talk less if your chin had to fight the weight of his head.

You were more stuck than before. "I can't move."

"Should have listened when I warned you." You were nothing more than captured prey in the lion's embrace.

Leona's chest returned to a rhythmic rise and fall as the morning birdsong lulled him back to sleep. You were going to have to put up with his body heat for a few more hours.

[emmyc0z]

Can you write something for Sephiroth(pre-nibelheim) or Astarion? Your work is absolutely fantastic btw I’m in love with it ❤️❤️❤️

Not So Subtle

pairing : sephiroth x female!reader

summary : you have a teenage girl level crush on him, that you and zack talk (very loudly) about when you think no one can hear. but he does.

a/n : this takes place pre-nibelheim so everyone is happy and well! in honour of ff7 rebirth :)

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.” You snap your jaw shut, eyes moving to glare at the young, dark haired boy who has decided to break your daydream. 

“It wasn’t even open.” He plops down beside you, shoulder touching yours. 

“Mhm.. and you weren’t drooling over our superior.” 

“Your superior,” you correct, eyebrow lifted with pointed sarcasm. If you could stick your tongue out at him, without it seeming childish to everyone around you, you would.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a first class soldier either,” He points out, amused. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and his hand reaches to cover the area as he laughs.

Zack was younger than you, though he certainly never acted like there was an age gap. In his mind, you were the same age as him in some way or another. You had always trained together so you felt much closer in age even though you were at least 3 years older than him. At times, he felt like a younger brother to you.

Even more so when he found out you had a crush on the man he spent everyday training beside. Constant teasing, constant threats to spill your secrets, constant blackmail. You couldn’t even count the amount of times he had used your crush to his advantage on one hand. 

There was a time you had to put your foot down and tell him no more, cause it was wrong of course. But also mostly cause you were running out of money to buy his silence.

“Yeah but I'm older, closer to his age. So I don't have to talk to him like I'm below him, unlike some people.” 

“Can you even talk to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you sitting here staring..?” 

“He’s training..” 

“Mhm.” The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. Right now, it was the truth, Sephiroth was swinging his sword in the domed combat simulator, glass walls clear enough for you to see through. So the excuse of not being able to talk to him, out of fear of being sliced in half by his giant sword, was plausible. 

But any other time that you had sat staring at him, making no effort to speak to him, rendered that excuse inapplicable. 

“Shut it..” You push his shoulder with your elbow once more, and he snorts out a laugh. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just talk to him..” 

“Of course you don’t.. because you're obviously blind. Or you’ve been hit in the head one too many times in combat training.” You turn your gaze away from Zack to look back through the glass enclosing Sephiroth. 

His hair is tied up, hanging loosely against his back. It’s a rare sight, so you indulge yourself and stare a second longer than you should. It’s so relaxed, you think, compared to the seriousness of always having it pristinely down. There are stray hairs, flyaways, falling from the hair tie and hanging against his face. It’s unkempt, a nice contrast to his seemingly perfect lifestyle.

He swings his sword with calculated grace, a grace that you (or Zack for that matter) had yet to achieve. The control he held over his blade was impeccable, it never slipped or moved from his hold even when his hands were moving faster than his body could keep up with. Just another thing that had to be perfect in his life.

“How could I ever speak to him and not make a fool out of myself? For one, he’s first class, I'd totally ruin my chances of making first class if I said something totally outrageous. And knowing me, my mind would be so jumbled, I wouldn't even realize the words had left my mouth before he put me on some kind of ‘do not promote’ list.” 

“Oh so.. the only reason you won’t talk to him is because you're worried about making first class? Not.. I don’t know, maybe, the 12-year-old-girl-level crush you have on him.” Your hand slaps over his lips, eyes scanning around you. For the most part, no one looks at the two of you, and you figure the ones that are looking are doing so because of your hand covering Zacks blabbermouth. 

“Would you shut it?” Even with your hand covering his mouth, he manages to laugh at your widened eyes. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are a dead giveaway of his amusement. You remove your hand with a pointed look, one that says ‘keep it down’ in a far more subtle way than a hand over his face. 

“You’re so lucky you’re younger than me.” 

“More like so lucky you don’t want to make your boyfriend angry. Besides, you know I’m stronger than you.” 

“Mhm..” You roll your eyes, and with a sigh, you turn back to face Sephiroth. He stands still now and you realize all of the practice dummies have been broken. From your position, he doesn't even seem to have broken a sweat, even though he’s been in there for over an hour. His sword lies on the ground, thrown without care. 

Even with Zack beside you, and the silent teasing that exudes from his body, your eyes remain trained on Sephiroth. You realize it’s childish, to stare and never approach, but the idea of even standing next to him is enough to intimidate you. 

He runs his hand over his back, pulling the hair tie from his hair, allowing it to fall against his shoulders once more. He turns, presumably to leave the combat simulated, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You knew your staring wasn’t subtle, it had never been before, but you had never expected to get caught. You had never been caught. 

You turn your head away so fast that Zack almost flinches, probably thinking you were going to hit him again. 

“Jesus,” he looks at you with confusion, “What’s the problem?” 

“He saw me.” 

“What?” 

“He saw me! Through the glass! He totally caught me staring at him..” You stare at Zack with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, before you head falls into your lap in shame.

“Would you relax? I guarantee he doesn’t care or he didn’t even see you. Maybe he was just looking at his reflection.”

You look back towards Sephiroth to see him leaving through the doors of the dome, and then you turn back to Zack with a pitiful whine. 

“This is so pathetic…” 

“I agree,” he smiles when you shoot him a glare, “Just talk to him.” 

“Talk to who?” A deep voice sounds from beside you, higher up than where you sit. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up, and Zack's expression is enough to confirm your suspicion about who stands next to you. 

You turn your head to face Sephiroth, and he stares at you expectantly. You think you catch the slightest smirk building on the corner of his lips, but you also think you might just be trying to make yourself feel better. Standing, nowhere close to his height, you hold your hands up. Zack takes this as his sign to stand too. 

“Nobody! Angeal!” You fumble out words, trying to throw out a name before he grows suspicious. 

“Well which is it, nobody? or Angeal?” 

“Angeal. Yeah! Angeal, so.. um.. I should probably go find him.” 

“It just so happens that I have to find Angeal too, allow me to join you.” 

You want to throw the nearest chair at Zack, curse him for speaking so loudly. And you curse yourself for not thinking of an excuse in a reasonable time frame, so you just nod, and excuse yourself from Zack. 

He gives you a pitiful smile, and when you turn to look behind you for support one last time as you walk away he gives you a thumbs up. His face contradicts his hands, and he seems like he’s in a far less teasing mood. 

“Whatever you have to say to him, it must be important.” 

“Hm?” You tilt your head up and to the side to look at Sephiroth, you’ve been walking together for a few minutes now, mostly silently. 

“You're walking fast.” You shrug your shoulders and continue walking. 

At least until your steps are interrupted by him stepping in front of you. 

“Is there a problem?”

“What? Of course not!” He practically glares down at you, arms crossed over his muscular chest. You can see the outline of his defined chest muscles through the straps of his top. And you realize you're practically drooling over him, right in front of him so you force your eyes to meet his once more. But his glare is replaced by a smirk, and amusement in his eyes. 

“I see now..” 

“See what?” 

“Really? Do you think you’re subtle?” Your face flushes and once again you want the floor to open up and consume you whole, but you're stuck here. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” Step back, you scream at yourself, but he moves closer and it’s impossible to move your feet. They feel like lead underneath you, not even giving way to a small shuffle backwards.

“No?” His hand reaches up to rest on your cheek, it's gentle, far gentler than you would’ve expected. But the way his fingers tense against your skin has you feeling fuzzy, “You think I don’t notice the way you stare? Hm?” 

He stares at you, thumb moving to the other side of your chin, holding your face in his hand. He maneuvers your face, moving it however he likes. You realize he’s examining the flush in your cheeks, the way your lips part like you want to say something. His tongue gives a humiliating click when your lips close, and the words are lost. 

“I hear you, when you talk to Zack,” he stops his movement, stilling your face to look directly at him, “You’ve never been a quiet girl. Why are you so quiet now?” 

When you don’t respond his eyebrows scrunch, its subtle and almost missable because it’s gone in seconds. He’s not satisfied by your silence.

Sephiroth bends his shoulders, moving closer to your face, “Although, I suppose you’ve never been very talkative around me.” He moves closer still, swerving his nose to the side of your face until he’s able to speak in your ear, “That’s not very nice. You might hurt my feelings if you keep ignoring me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out meekly, you're honestly not even sure it’s audible at first but he laughs quietly, breath fanning on your ear. His other hand, the one that doesn’t hold your face, reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before he pulls away. The breath that leaves your body is almost embarrassing. 

“What’re you sorry for, hm?” He stares expectantly down at you, eyes never leaving yours. 

“F…for ignoring you.”

“So you ignore me?” 

“No!”

“So you’re lying?” You shake your head as much as you can within the hold of his fingers, “Then what are you sorry for?” 

“For not talking to you.” 

“And why don’t you talk to me, I'm sure you know it’s rude to stare and never speak to someone.”

“Because..” His grip loosens, hand moving back to your cheek, thumb resting on your cheek bone. 

“Because why? Cmon use your voice, the one you use to talk about me with Zack.” 

You stare up at him pitifully, and the way words fumble from your mouth has you wanting to throw up, “Because I have this stupid crush on you, and I can't talk to you without getting nervous. I know it’s stupid and I should have told you sooner so you could reject me and I could move on and I never meant to offend you or-”

You hadn’t realized he had gotten so close until his nose touches yours, top lip brushing against yours as he tips your chin up towards him. Your words fall flat on your tongue when you meet his eyes, or rather when you see his eyes that are focused on your lips. 

“Offend me.. that’s sweet..” He’s so close to you, that every word has his lips brushing against your own again and again. 

“Sephiroth..?” You suppress the urge to move the tiniest bit forward so your lips can fully meet his. And you're sure your face is impossibly red. 

“You should’ve told me about this ‘stupid’ crush sooner, such a foolish girl. May I?” You're confused, what is he asking for? His eyes flicker up to yours before moving back to your lips. When you realize what he means you nod your head perhaps too eagerly. 

Slowly, to tease, his lips press against yours, palm pressing into the skin of yours to keep you in place. Eyes fluttering closed, your hands find his chest, silently screaming about the position you’ve found yourself in.

His lips overpower yours in every regard, moving languidly against you. His other hand reaches up to the free side of your face, fingers tickling the skin on your neck and thumb resting on your jaw. 

When he pulls away you can only look at him with half lidded eyes, dazed. 

Al he does is chuckle, rubbing your cheek with his thumb and patting your head. One hand holds the back of your head, leaning down to kiss your temple, before stepping behind you, “Don’t be so shy from now on. Maybe we’ll end up here again.”

His steps echo through the empty hall as he walks away.

“Wait… wait.. I thought you had to go see Angeal?” You turn, taking one step in his direction, then stopping yourself in your tracks hesitantly. 

“I didn’t. And I know you didn’t either.” He only turns his cheek towards you to speak and then continues on down the hallway, tall and brooding.

[feralfangirll]

cw: slight dubcon

Sooo Rintaro Suna takes lots of pictures. You’ve known this since forever, always videoing the twins fights, capturing every embarrassing moment of each member of the team, and of course, you. He takes candids of you doing literally everything and you’ve never thought much of it because that’s just how he is. Always on his phone. Always watching, observing quietly, and capturing the moments most everyone else forgets or moves through without a second thought.

What you don’t think about is what kind of photos he might take of you when you really don’t notice the camera. When you don’t even think about how he’s watching you. And what that means for the secret album he keeps on his phone called ‘XXX’.

What you don’t realize is he’s a bit of a fucking creep in the hottest way possible…

You’d never even imagine that your quiet boyfriend snaps pics of you when you’re changing. Taking off that last scrap of clothing you call panties in the steamy bathroom. The shot was just too perfect for him to pass up. The crack in the door phone camera sized, the angle of your cute little ass too good, the way your own hands and eyes traveled down your own body too sinful. You were practically begging for him to snap a pic of you like that. So of course he obliged.

When you’re showering. God he gets the best ones of you in the shower. When you’re bent over shaving your legs or have your head back in the warm stream of water scrubbing your scalp with your eyes closed. He pretends to barge in for the toilet but the second your eyes are off him his phone is peeking out of his pocket and he’s snapping a pic. Ass and pussy on full display. Skin slick. Bent in sinful poses. So fucking good.

And of course he pulls his phone out on occasion to film a quick video of how fucked out your face is during missionary or when he’s hitting it from the back and he’s moaning “your ass just looks too good bouncing on my dick like this pretty baby…” from behind the camera. BUT what you don’t know is that sometimes he’s SNEAKING videos. You’d never be mad at him for taking videos of you. You’d always say yes to his little fetish and he knows that. But something about the way you act more naturally and like yourself when you don’t know he’s getting you on camera is what really does it for him. The version of you only he gets to see with his eyes. No acting. No putting on a pose or a face. He wants the raw, real version of you. That’s what he wants to capture. That’s what gets him off.

[writingbluerose]

TWST DRABBLE #20

When Malleus first met you, he thought you were simply beautiful

He didn't know if you knew what you did, but whether it was intentional or not, you had always known how to make your way into his heart. In the nights when both of you walked side by side you have always observed him close and careful ; you'd look at him smiling and say : "Your green eyes are so beautiful, like a really shiny jewel" or some times you'd say : "Your horns shine so brightly in the moonlight! I could stare at them forever!" And he had always made sure to express his gratitude for the compliments you gave him, along with the pink hue to his cheeks that complimented his ghostly skin whenever your melodic voice made its way to his ears.

Malleus thought you were absolutely stunning

You've never expressed your fear of him, you were never scared. It amazed him, how you were so bold as to even call him "Hornton" like the sweet naïve child of man you were. But he himself had grown fond of that nickname. On nights he came to your dorm he couldn't help but smile at the thought of hearing you call him that endearing name again, or even better, your beloved friend.

Malleus had never had a friend, he didn't know how to handle friendships, perhaps that's why he couldn't draw a line to where his platonic feelings for you ended and the romantic ones began. He thought it was all normal ; He thought it was normal for him as your best friend to want to hold your hand at all times. He thought it was normal for him to want to kiss you, steal your breath away a million times if that made you want to stay with him, be his beloved. He never told anyone about it, no, not even Lilia, for he thought it was all normal, he was stubborn, yes, but he never admitted that to anyone. But even so he never made a move, he was afraid to do so, afraid that even though he thought these thoughts were normal, perhaps he was doing something wrong and this was not how the people from your world behaved. So he never dared to, keeping it a secret and enjoying your presence in the nightly strolls you had as he always did.

Malleus thought you were bewitching him

How you could look at him with a smile after all that he'd done he will never know. How'd you still greet him and smile, your eyes holding nothing but relief and a softness he'd never seen for his being alone, he'd never figure out in these years he has yet to live.

That's exactly why his eyes searched for you in the grand room of his castle. The music never stopped, and Silver and his family were enjoying themselves on this special occasion that was the boy's birthday. But even so, not one sight of you, therefore, he took it upon himself to search for you around the castle ;

And he found you after a while. You were staying in the beautiful yet abandoned gardens of the castle looking at the moon, a smile gracing your tired yet delicate features. The thorns that grew in the garden had never looked so beautiful surrounding you, thinking they were beautiful white roses around instead, a flower that suited you to perfection ; He slowly started making his way to you, his heels clicking on the cracked stoned path. You turned your head to him, still smiling, and Malleus could feel his cheeks heating once more, as he did long ago. He stopped next to you, and looked at the moon before he said : "I feel like it has been years since we last stayed under the moon like this together" His silky voice having a calming effect on you as always. You laughed "Is this a way of telling me how much you've missed me? If it is, then yes, I missed you too. A lot" Your eyes met, and you couldn't help but look at how the moonlight hit his now broken horn, shining like a crystal in a deep dark cave, just as the scales on his forehead, who you wanted to kiss over and over if you could. Once he caught your eyes, he chuckled, tail moving just an inch, as if it couldn't wait to sway happily from one side to another.

"I did. I truly missed you, child of man" You grinned at his statement, like a little child who just got his favorite toy. He really wants to kiss that grin of yours

You had stayed like this for a while, just looking at each other in silence, enjoying the presence of one another. And Malleus couldn't help himself as he gently pulled you closer by your waist and put his gloved hand on your cheek. You didn't protest, and as a response to his actions you nuzzled your cheek into his palm, searching for his warmth —

'He looks so pretty' you thought. Ever since you saw him for the first time in his royal gown that complimented him so well. The crown and the dress he wore made him even more enchanting that you already thought he was. And you couldn't have it any other way —

Malleus softly smiled at you, and subconsciously brought your face closer to him, as if he had done this a million times before. You felt his breath falter for a tiny second before looking in his eyes once again. His grip on you tightened, unsure if he could proceed or not, and when he felt one of your arms on his shoulder and the other gently squeezing his forearm he didn't waste a second and connected his lips to yours. It wasn't rushed, but it contained all the feelings he had kept for you these past months, feelings he was afraid to let out.

His lips moved slowly with yours like they were two perfect puzzle pieces put together. He let go, only to dive in again and again and again like a starved man, and you reciprocated with the same intensity, your hands around his neck and one of his no longer on your body but gently gripping the locks of your hair, keeping you close. You parted again, lips still inches close and Malleus was the first one to speak "I had waited, child of man. I wanted to tell you this for so long, but my feelings...they have never been clear enough for me — he sighed before continuing — But now I know. My feelings have never been more clear than they are now. So please, I want to court you, I want you to be my beloved, if you'll have me" His posture straightened and he held your hands in his, a posture you held when you usually started to waltz, but he didn't move, he only watched, looked at you closely waiting for your answer.

You smiled once again : "I will have you, Malleus. Now and until my best days are over" You stood on your tippy toes as Malleus slightly bent down to unite your foreheads. Your eyes closed but Malleus' remained opened, admiring you. You didn't wear a dress, no, not yet, but he'll make sure to get you one, the finest he can get, the best for his queen

And now Malleus still thought,

You were absolutely breathtaking

© writingbluerose 2025

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Kind of a request if you're taking those <3 Feel free to just vibe with me abt it tho instead lolll Idk how up to date you are with everything, but Katsuki's heart recovery and all that. Tbhhh I'm a little lost on it bc I'm not perfectly up to date with it all and have vague idea of it. But I feel like with the whole having to keep himself calm and stuff for his heart, he'd probably never really be 100% back to being able to constantly do things the way he was before. Like he'd have to take a day to relax his heart every once in a while when it's too overworked even when he's a pro. Imagine having to have him stay home when you notice his behavior's a little off. Like he's not acting feisty or trying to get into little play fights with you, because he's trying to stay calm without telling you. Idkkk, it's kinda cute to me (not the idea of a heart injury!) having him have to reluctantly take a day off bc you forced him to. Just turning on a corny little movie he grumbles about while cuddling with him. Or making him relax with you in anyway you can think of because you're not letting him leave yours sight until he starts feeling more okay.

heartbeat, my heartbeat..! ♡

synopsis : katsuki's stuck at home, and that sucks. but he's stuck at home with you, and that sucks way less.

an. okay twin first of all so sorry this is a really old ask i actually LOVED this ask sm...but then tumblr literally deleted my og draft and it made me lose inspo forever :> soz!!! i hope this makes up for it and that you enjoyed bc YOU KNOW I LOVE THIS!!!

cw. LIGHT MHA MANGA SPOILERS !! fluff, maybe a teeny bit suggestive ? kissing n smooches ! and into the spiderverse being my favourite movie, theres a little references to the movie towards the end :3

"you got a problem with your bladder today, too ?"

"...the hell are you on about ?"

katsuki scowls, looking down at you in surprise, his thumb rubbing your arm slows to a stop.

"oh katsuki, i'm not stupid. you've been to the bathroom like ten times since the movie started. if you wanted to watch another movie you could've said that." you giggle, desperately trying to hold in your laughter when he flushes at your accusations.

your boyfriend squints "...shut up an' watch your movie." he dodges, scoffing when you laugh.

katsuki's heartbeat is slightly irregular today, and you're watching spiderman into the spiderverse.

it's just slightly off beat, just a bit...off. not exactly in tune with your own when you try to match your breathing.

thump...ba-dump.....thump

just slightly off.

to him, it doesn't matter. it never does, because as long as he can keep moving he's good to go. as long as he could keep standing and as long as he was breathing nothing was impossible for him.

clearly, you don't think the same as him, you're watching spiderman across the spiderverse again.

it's a good movie, the best movie (in your humble opinion). and you're only watching it because katsuki had grumpily told you to "just pick whatever." when choosing a movie for your impromptu chill day but it's almost become a ritual of sorts, whenever katsuki gets a sick heart day, this has always been the movie you put on.

you've completely memorised the script by now but you're still just as excited about it. katsuki thinks that's the only good thing about being stuck in the house like this.

years ago, doctors had told him that while him surviving what he'd been through was a miracle, he was still only human. and being human meant giving his heart a break once in a while. once in a while, when his heartbeat felt too irregular and his chest ached just enough for it to feel uncomfortable and it'd hurt to breathe every few hours, he couldn't be dynamight anymore.

of course, to him, he was always going to be dynamight, day off or not, so you're here to remind him that on off days like this, he could just be katsuki. flesh and bone and slightly off kilter heart.

but katsuki had never been good at just...being: being quiet, being still...he'd never been the type to just sit still and watch a movie. he likes commenting on the acting or the characters actions, cus he would definitely not make the same mistake, but he's watched this movie so many times he didn't have much to say anymore. he's even caught himself repeating some of the lines with you under his breath. (it always makes you giggle when you catch him, but he pretends not to notice.)

besides that though, he's always a bit antsy, always ready to go and always on the move. which is always a bad combo for someone who desperately needs to sit down and rest.

that's why he was so quick to get up to "go to the bathroom"— you won't allow him to do anything else, because apparently he needs to do stupid stuff like "take it easy" and "rest"—just for an excuse to walk around and stretch his legs.

he's always ready to get up to grab you something to drink or eat from the kitchen before you can even stretch to do it. of course, you're always quick to tell him off "sit your ass down ! i got it." you'd laugh while he grumpily flops back into the couch and crossing his arms.

"if it's the bubble guts we have some—"

your boyfriend groans, he dips down to nip your ear "shut the fuck up. stop talking." you laugh, pushing him away weakly while he bites your ear.

"katsuki, stop being rowdy ! you need to—"

"yeah, yeah be careful. i fuckin' got it. yer startin' to sound like my damn doctor." he grumbles, he continues nosing around your neck to nibble at your skin like a dog.

"well, somebody has to remind you to take a chill pill once in a while. it's like you'll die if you're not moving, it's insane." you sigh, running your fingers through his hair when he settles down into your neck, breathing you in.

"you did not just say chill pill." he snorts, giggling into your neck.

you slap his back, biting back a snort "wh-so what if i did ?! shut up, you !" you desperately try to hold in your laugh but fail miserably and soon you both find yourself giggling like idiots on the couch.

when you both calm down, katsuki noses at your jaw, his teeth scrape against it. "m'fine y'know ? 'ts not like i'm incapable of doing anything. not gonna drop dead just because i'm moving too much," he mumbles a quick snarky "by your standards."

you sigh, he nudges his head against you, putting more of his weight onto you so you're taken in by his warmth completely.

"i know that...but i wish you knew when to..relax, you know ? you being here means a lot to a lot of people," you grab both sides of his face to get him to look up you "it means a lot to me. i need you to be healthy and ready to kick ass without risking anything happening to you."

his eyes soften when he looks at you, leaning into your palm after hearing your words "there's always gonna be risk, sweets. s'just what i gotta do."

"that doesn't mean i'm gonna let you chip away at yourself, not if i can stop it." you insist. "i've already almost lost you more than once, lord knows you've got no regard for your own safety, psycho."

your boyfriend flushes at the sincerity, he can't help looking away for a bit. you can tell he's got a snarky remark at the tip of his tongue, but he decides against saying anything, he leans into you more.

"y-yeah, yeah okay—i got it, alright ? i just...wanna be the best. and not just for this hero thing but for..." he trails off.

"for this...us..y'know ?"

he was just so cute, you're heart might start beating erratically next !

you smile sweetly, leaning forward to press a smooch to his nose "cutie." you coo.

"shaddup.." his nose bumps against you when he quickly leans up to get more of you "gimme a proper kiss, at least."

"you're so needy, whatever happened to saying please, hm ?"

katsuki grumbles, diving in for a wet long smooch, grabbing the back of your head to pull you against him. he pushes you downward to deepen the kiss, but you push his chest.

"kashukiii—" kiss "no—" muah ! "no—being rowdy !" you lecture in between kisses and giggles. your boyfriend groans. he pulls you up with him so you're positioned on his lap, hands on your hips.

"fine, just sit here then." he pats your sides, mouthing and kissing your neck. he squeezes your hips when you melt into him, humming into your mouth. his hands run up, up, up, 'till he gets under your shirt but he simply keeps them there, just to feel your skin. he pulls you to sit even closer, you can his heart beating against your own. slightly off kilter, not in sync. but you decide it was yours to protect like he'd protected you and so many others, until he'd be able to go off into the world and be dynamight again.

for now, you'll keep katsuki here with you.

thump...ba-dump.....thump

before katsuki can go back to taking the lead or possibly take things even further, you're pulling away suddenly with a squeal against his mouth.

"ou, ou wait ! this is my favourite part !"

"for fuck's sake...you watched this shit like four thousand times already !"

"katsukiii, you ever hear of the shoulder touch..?" you giggle pressing your hand and forehead against his. he rolls his eyes in response, but he's reminded of why he's doing all of this in the first place seeing you this happy and giggly. you win by saving right ? and katsuki would do anything to save your smile and keep it all to himself. so of course, he does the "hey..." with you at the same time.

you're the only reason days like this aren't hell on earth for him, no matter how many times you watch the same movie or how many times you joke about his bathroom trips, he wouldn't trade these days for anything else. despite how sometimes his chest aches and it hurts to breathe a little bit, you make him forget, even for a little while, and let him be your katsuki and your katsuki alone.

thump...ba-dump.....thump

taglist (if your names in bold i unfortunately couldn't tag you :(() :

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @themultifandomgirl @icey-wonders

[viperify]

drabbles | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⟢ late nights at the library.

All you crave is a break and sleep—but Tom Riddle being your tutor and boyfriend makes your life just a little bit more complicated.

“This is the third time you have gotten this wrong.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair you were sitting in. “Tom, I know. I just— it’s late, okay? We have been here for what? Five hours?” 

He raised a brow, deep brown eyes meeting yours. “That’s right. So, any reason why you can’t remember? Do I need to explain it again?”

You wished you had known what you were signing up for when you started dating Tom. Endless hours of studying together. Him acting like your tutor when he was supposed to be your boyfriend. He had this never-ending ambition and motivation that you just couldn’t match in the slightest.

Yes, you were one of the better students as well, but nobody and nothing could match Tom Riddle—top student in every single class. Sometimes you wondered how he managed it all. How he could be so perfect. Studying, revising, prefect duties. It was almost like you needed an appointment to meet him, even as his girlfriend.

He seemed like a student as any other—though so special in his own way. The hunger for knowledge and power. The desire to become prefect, head boy, a professor. 

The softer side to him that only you would ever get to see—except when you were studying together, that is. 

“Please, can we just leave? I am so tired.”

You didn’t leave. Not until you finally got it right. Not until you were completely drained, eyelids fluttering closed every other minute.

“Come on, I will bring you to your dorm.” He said softly after returning the books to where you had taken them from. Taking your hand in his and helping you up, he led you out of the dark and empty library. There were no words needed when you arrived at your dorm. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Tom exhaled, deeply. “Fine. But just this once.”

He always said that.

A minute later, you entered his dorm instead, and it was as if his guard had dropped the second the door closed behind you both. He took off his and your robes, hanging them on the coat stand behind you. 

And then, without hesitation, he gently pulled you into his arms. He held you close, your head buried against his chest as his hand caressed your hair, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Finally, your worries started to fade, exhaustion taking over. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he took in your expression, swiftly helping you out of your uniform and into your pyjamas. How he’d gotten them—you didn’t know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

All you wanted was him—his kisses, his warmth, his support. 

Of course, he knew.

So that’s what he gave you—pulling you close as soon as the both of you lay down, pressing a gentle kiss to your soft lips before letting you cuddle into his side.

“I am proud of you, darling.” Tom whispered right before you drifted off to sleep, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I always am.”

You smiled softly in response, drawing soft patterns on his chest.

“I love you so much, Tommy.”

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | drabbles.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: Just a little fluffy drabble bc I crave this man’s love and support during exam season. Ugh. <- This is also why I will be posting a little less/shorter works due to me basically having no time to write for the coming two weeks! I love you guys and hope to be back to normal asap! <33

[noctunis]

suguru geto who may be a tad obsessed with you still, even after he’s already defected and set in his ways. mayyybe he has a curse or two watching over you still — even after about fifteen years since you two had seen each other. you’ll never just be referred to as that, “pretty sorcerer him and satoru hung out with”. you’ll always be you. he’ll refer to you by name even to people that don’t know you, and he swears his eye doesn’t twitch and his brow doesn’t furrow with the way you forget to take care of yourself sometimes as he watches you from afar, tripping over your shoelaces and scuffing your knee just like how you used to do when you were seventeen ….

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝗧𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗲-𝗧𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 || 𝗘𝗿𝗶𝗸 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹 ||

A/n: He's so fine 👏, here you go dear Anon. I hope I did your request justice.

Also I fully believe that man would wear a vibrating tongue piercing for his S/olO

The vibration of the truck hummed beneath your thighs, but it was nothing compared to the heat between them.

Erik glanced over at you from the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel, the other already teasing the edge of your thigh where your skirt had ridden up just a bit too high. His smirk deepened when he caught the way you shifted, trying—and failing—to maintain composure.

“I saw that,” he murmured, voice low and rough like gravel. “You’re squirming already, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.” The man held a teasing edge to his voice as if he hadn't spent the last half hour teasing you through your panties.

“You’re driving,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the edge of the seat as you then sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as a shudder rushed down your spine.

“I can multitask.”

He swerved gently onto an empty backroad, one you both knew was quiet, hidden. His hand slipped fully onto your bare thigh, calloused fingertips tracing slow circles just above your knee. “You remember what I did last time we were in a car together?” he murmured.

Your mouth went dry. Oh, you remembered. It was one of the hottest places you've two have had sex.

“Good,” Erik said, as if reading your thoughts. “Because I’m gonna do it again—only this time, you’re not getting away so easy.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the truck rolled to a slow stop beneath a stretch of trees. He threw it in park, cut the engine, and turned toward you with that grin—the one that made you weak in the knees, that made your heart beat wildly.

“You wanna climb over here, or do I drag you across my lap?”

The way he said it made your stomach twist with arousal. You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Erik reached out, pulled you across the seat in one fluid move, your thighs settling on either side of his lap. His hands wasted no time grabbing fistfuls of your ass, grinding you down against the bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip before he looked up at you, eyes dark and dangerous. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You whimpered as he rolled his hips up, letting you feel every thick inch through the denim. Your hands gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t giving you time to think—one hand came down with a sharp smack against your ass, making you gasp.

Erik let out a small growl hearing your little gasp and whimper. “That sound you make when I spank you—makes me wanna hear you scream.”

He grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you into a filthy kiss—deep, consuming, tongue licking into your mouth with practiced, teasing flicks that made your head spin. His tongue moved just the way it had during that first time he’d gone down on you, when he’d made you writhe and sob from how he twisted it, circled it, fucked you with it.

You broke the kiss with a moan. “Erik…”

“Yeah, you’re thinking about it now, huh?” he chuckled darkly, hand slipping between your legs, fingers finding your soaked panties. “Thought so.”

He pushed them aside and sank two fingers into your dripping pussy, slow and deep.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, watching the way your mouth dropped open, how you clenched around him. “This pussy’s already begging for it.”

Another sharp smack landed on your ass, and the contrast of pain and pleasure sent you spiraling. You ground against his hand, whimpering when his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing tight little circles as he finger-fucked you with devastating precision.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my fingers,” Erik murmured, voice rough with need. “I wanna feel you come before I even get my cock out.”

You clenched around him, thighs trembling as he curled his fingers just right, dragging them over that sensitive spot that made your entire body tighten.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered against your ear. “You remember what I did with my tongue—imagine what I’ll do with my cock.”

You shattered with a cry, burying your face in his neck as you came hard, pulsing around his fingers, your whole body shaking from the release.

Erik let out a low groan, pulling his fingers out and sucking them clean, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“Round two,” he rasped, undoing his belt with one hand. “Get in the backseat.”

You didn’t hesitate because you knew he would really show you what that tongue could do and You barely had time to catch your breath.

As you crawled over without hesitation, sinking into the cushions, legs still trembling from your last orgasm. Erik followed like a predator, hands already on your thighs, pushing them apart with a possessive grip his lips swollen, pupils blown wide with hunger.

He knelt between them, spreading you wide as your back hit the seat. You could feel the heat of his breath ghosting over your soaked folds, and when he looked up at you through his lashes, you saw it.

The flash of metal.

That sinful piercing glinting on his tongue.

“I got it changed,” Erik rasped, voice low and husky. “Little upgrade.”

You blinked down at him, confused and turned on beyond words.

He smirked, stuck his tongue out again—slow, deliberate—and this time, you felt it before he even touched you.

A soft hum buzzed in the air.

Vibrating.

Your eyes widened. “Erik—”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Vibrating tongue bar. Just for you.”

Then he dove in.

The moment his tongue pressed against your pussy, you cried out—back arching off the seat as that vibration sent waves through your core like nothing you’d ever felt. It wasn’t just stimulation—it was deep, focused torment, the kind that made your toes curl and your hands claw for something to hold onto.

His tongue dragged up your folds, slow and devastating, humming against your clit with pinpoint precision. You gasped, thighs trying to clamp shut, but his hands gripped them firm, keeping you spread and helpless beneath his mouth.

“Fuck, baby…” you moaned, trembling as he circled your clit with the vibrating ball, your nails digging into the leather of his seat. “Holy fuck…”

He didn’t stop. He doubled down.

Licking. Flicking. Sucking.

Alternating between fast teasing licks and deep, languid strokes—letting the vibration pulse through you each time he pressed the bar flat against your clit. Your body jerked with every movement, your hips grinding against his face, needy and desperate.

He was relentless.

“That’s it, baby,” Erik murmured between licks, the vibration of his voice and the bar sending shocks straight to your core. “Let me hear you. I want you to come all over my fucking tongue.”

You were already so close, tears prickling your eyes as pleasure coiled in your belly—tight, hot, unstoppable.

“Erik—don’t stop—I’m—”

Your entire body shattered.

You came with a cry, thighs shaking around his head as your pussy pulsed against his mouth. Erik didn’t pull back. He kept going, licking you through it, the vibration never easing until you were gasping and twitching, fingers buried in his hair tugging him closer.

Your voice raw from calling out his name, thin sheen of sweat coating your body.

And only then—when you were spent, boneless—did he finally lift his head, chin glistening, eyes dark and full of triumph.

“New favorite toy,” he murmured, licking his lips. “You’re welcome.”

And then, casually—still between your legs—he added with a smirk:

“Round three’s gonna feel even better… when I’m inside you.”

An airy laugh left your lips, your body feeling like jelly still recovering. "Fuck"