#[ watch out for a drabble on ---------!! ]

[vampireyuuta]

includes: f! reader, aged up! megumi, breeding, short, pregnancy mentioned

megumi is obsessed with cumming inside you.

don't even bring up condoms to him. he’ll shoot you the dirtiest glares.

he can't help it, it's just human nature. it's only natural that he wants to fill you up, wants to finger his cum back into your leaking hole. what's so wrong with that?

he seriously can't cum without being inside you anymore. jacking off isn't even an option. he’s calling you the second he's hard. he needs to have his seed filling your womb, not wasted on his hand. that's how it should be.

you know better than to say anything about pulling out to megumi by now. he's slamming harder into you when he gets close, in fact. his tip rams against your cervix over and over again as his eyes roll back into his skull.

“fuck,” he groans, “gonna—ha—gonna fill you up real good,” he says breathlessly.

he brings a hand to cup your tummy, calloused fingers holding you so gently in contrast to how hard he’s fucking you. he watches the bulge of his cock in your stomach appear and disappear with each harsh thrust and suddenly you feel it.

white, hot, and sticky. it fills up your womb, his tip pushed so so deep inside you as he cums. he squeezes the fat of your stomach just a little tighter as he finishes in you.

thank god for birth control is always your first thought.

on the other hand, megumi is dreaming of the day you'll be getting pregnant.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about how older bf!Simon is sweaty and dirty after gardening and reader just goes crazy over that cause he's wearing grey sweatpants and the print and the pudge of his tummy is visible

let’s live the older bf!simon house husband fantasy fr

this is retired older bf!simon with all this time on his hands, all the time to give you whatever you need- you name it, it’s yours.

so he’s on those hands and knees in the garden, he’s been laying the patch of soil, weeding the shit out of it, getting nice and pretty for your lavender plants.

you’d seen them at the garden centre and simon swears, the look on your face when you saw them? that happy little smile? he’d cover the fucking house in them.

he was starting with the garden, covered in dirt and a heavy layer of sweat over him. upper arms straining against his t-shirt every time he ripped out a chunk of weeds.

back of his hand swiping against his forehead as he sat back on his haunches.

you couldn’t help but stare, quietly leaning in the door with a cup of tea in hand.

“whaddya’ think?” didn’t even have to turn around, he just knew.

he always knew.

walking up beside him, he rest his head gently against your thigh as you scratched your fingernails through his sweaty crop of hair.

“think i’m the luckiest person alive”

simon snorts a laugh through his nose as he reaches up to take your tea off you, finishing the last mouthful. you always save the best parts for him.

when he stands up to full height, you finally get the full picture.

fucking hell.

everything is covered in dirt, sweat stained and ready to sink your teeth into. broad shoulders with a stomach that softened with every meal he was finally home for.

he looked like yours.

you’d evidently been staring so long it was noticeable, the way simon was wrapping a hand around your back to pull you into him.

his lips were doing a good job at distracting you from the fact he was pushing you towards the swing seat. the same one he’d made from scratch (and christened by splitting you open on it).

seemed like you were heading down the same road, until simon began to sink to his knees. getting rid of your knickers, there was a glaring difference between your pretty skin and the dirt marring his knuckles.

“simon- s’dirty”

you think he nodded, but he could’ve just been nuzzling his face closer between your thighs. not a speck of dirt left behind when he crossed his wrists behind his back.

“look sweet’art, no ‘ands”

[hanafubukki]

Summary: Lilia becomes a father once again.

In his long life, Lilia can recall all the times he had cried.

Tears of loss.

Tears of grief.

Tears of happiness.

Tears of relief.

And now? Tears of unbelievable joy.

Tiny fingers grasped his finger.

His vision blurred before it was wiped gently by a hand.

You smile at him.

Your hair is a mess.

Your face flushed.

Body sheen with sweat and clothes array.

Yet, you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Lilia can’t help but fall for you once again.

There’s a slight rustle in his arms.

The precious bundle in his arms curls into him.

Lilia falls even deeper.

A child born from you both.

Lilia pulls you close.

A choked sob escapes him as you lean on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He repeats over and over.

As if you were his salvation.

You laugh tiredly and yet full of bliss, pressing your forehead against his.

“Congrats on being a daddy again.”

Lilia pulls you into a kiss.

So this is love

This is what makes life divine

The key to heaven is mine

[part 2]

This scene and that song wouldn’t leave my head 🥹💚🌺

I haven’t heard that song in ages but those lines just came to me instinctively 🥹💞

[ghostbeam]

I have the silliest most self indulgent thought about Dabi who owns the music store u work next door to and his shitty band practices there and u can always hear them play bc u share a wall and how after he meets u and finds out ur fav song u hear him play it all the time

[kianely]

okok hear me out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

being needy and riding re6 leon’s thigh and he starts sweetly mocking you for being so pent up and vocal even though he hasn’t even really touched you at all

i’m not usually this horny but :( next time i’ll send some fluff into your askbox

Omg anon I’m hearing you out, you got me thinking about this…just imagine how much muscle his thighs have 😵‍💫 I wrote a little gender neutral drabble on this under the cut I hope that’s okay

Thank you for sending an ask I love interaction AHH

“That’s it,” his murmurs fan against the sensitive skin of your ear, and they turn your brain into mush with each syllable that emits from his lips. “You’re so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a noise complaint.”

Your pajama pants are discarded somewhere on the floor of your shared living room as you rut against him. Leon has been so busy that you couldn’t help but pounce on him when he got some free time, scrambling over to him as soon as he sat down on the couch.

The scent of his cologne and pheromones fills your senses, a combination that makes you press your face against the crook of his neck in an attempt to get more.

And you’re so noisy—grunts and whimpers spilling from you with each roll of your hips against his thigh. The rough fabric of his denim jeans against the flimsier and thinner fabric of your underwear (which are pretty wet with your arousal, dampening up Leon's pants as well) has you rolling your eyes back.

“Don’t even need to lift a damn finger. Love me so much I bet you could come untouched.”

Surely he wouldn’t be that mean, right? Though…you could definitely come untouched. Hell, you gushed at the mere sound of his raspy morning voice; you got all excited whenever you got a peek of his happy trail.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” God, his voice is gravelly. His hand slides up to rest against the arch of your back. “You’re soaking my pants just from dry humping me like a damn dog.”

“Leon—“ you want to protest against those words, you feel a little bit embarrassed (and very turned on) and in turn, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. He cuts you off with a low rumble of laughter, catching onto your embarrassment and pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Bet you’d grind against my leg if I put you on your knees, hm? Poor baby can’t even go a day without being all over me.” He brings his hand to your jaw, cradles it, and brings you in for a kiss. It drowns out the loudness of your drunken sounding noises. His stubble brushes against your chin, and he gently pats his fingers against your cheek.

“You can be my sweet lap dog and keep me warm all day. What do you think?”

[whirlybirbs]

Okay but hime is such a funny pov for bruised ego, a passive observer who will never meddle or imply at risk of losing her job but knows in her heart of hearts theyre fucking nasty style please whir could we have some more hime?

...How is she supposed to answer any of the formal press questions that emerge after tonight's charity gala?

Let alone her coworker's?

Hime's head is in her hands. The coverage is replaying on her laptop screen. She should have left the office hours ago.

But, I mean — there's All Might, opening the car door for you. He offers a hand, and you take it, and you emerge to cameras flashing but... god, it's like there's no one else even there. All Might is giving you that smile Hime has seen a thousand times in this very office, and it almost makes her own knees weak under her desk the moment he reaches and allows his hand to fall on the bare skin of your lower back.

You look so... different. So feminine. So... delicate. Your smile is genuine and soft and lacks the usual crackle of electricity.

Hime hates that she knows All Might picked out that dress you're wearing. Hime hates that she knows he agonized over it — even went so far as to asking her in confidence if she thought Derecho would like it.

"I know she feels comfortable in black," he said as he chewed the cuticle of his thumb, "And I thought it would be a nice gesture seeing as this is our first, formal appearance as co-Heroes."

Co-Heroes. Is that what we're calling it?

This whole thing is tender and slow and so much more than just her two bosses out for a black-tie dinner being hosted by the Hero Commission.

It's like watching soft-core porn, for fuck's sake.

The office is going to explode tomorrow. This is going to be the juiciest water-cooler talk they've had in weeks.

Then, THEN — it gets even more romantic — because All Might just has to go and say something to you in the middle of it all. Hime's old coworker from her last agency already forwarded her a TikTok of someone well-versed in lip-reading theorizing it was:

"You look so beautiful, Derecho."

Hime groans.

Tomorrow is going to be really interesting.

— a reference to this fic here ;

[eddiesghxst]

eddie is literally a little kleptomaniac. he’s just always taking shit that’s not his. he doesn’t even really register it as “i’m stealing” he’s just…takes it.

you’ve lost so many hair ties, graphic tees, chapsticks, jewelry, etc. all for it to some day show up either on eddie or somewhere in his trailer.

he even stole your earrings once. and eddie’s ears aren’t even pierced.

well…they weren’t pierced, but when he saw the skull studs sitting on your dresser he didn’t even think twice before he took them and made his way to your bathroom to poke the shit out of his ears with the earrings. you noticed them a week later when he had his hair tied up and when he told you how he pierced them himself, you scolded him and made him take them out so you could properly clean the piercing to avoid an infection.

he takes silverware and tiny plates from restaurants, fancy pens from service desks, dozens and dozens of lighters (you would think he’s an arsonist with the amount of lighters scattered around his room), the list goes on and on.

eddie is also the type of guy to snack on shit in the middle of grocery shopping before even paying. he’ll be strolling behind you when all of a sudden you hear him opening a bag of chips. you look back at him and he’s just casually munching on some doritos whilst looking at whatever’s on the shelf. he doesn’t even care, just shrugs and says, “i was hungry and we’re in a super market, why would i continue to starve?”

you call him your little raccoon <3

[bloodymiso]

imagine a small picnic with ALHAITHAM in mawtiyama forest, atop the mushrooms. you laid a red and white checkered picnic blanket on the mushroom’s fuzzy surface as he placed down all the little snacks you brought to enjoy the day. your favorite sandwiches, fruits and all the classic picnic delicacies. as the night grew, you stared upon the stars, oh how you wish it could always be like this. no monsters to worry about, no stupid work/studies, just you and your beloved, in your own little world. 

he held your hand as you spotted all the constellations. andromeda was his favorite—not that he would like to have a child and sacrifice them for a hungry water creature, but because of you. you were the savior that saved him from the real monster, life itself. for that, he kept a promise in his heart that whatever he would experience, how many lives he would go through, how many reincarnations he would have, he’d go through it with you.

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[drabbles-of-writing]

nice to see Luz and Hunter are upholding the sibling tradition of the younger one copying everything the older one does. I mean, I’ve never personally wanted to die by a puritan tyrant before getting revived by someone who sacrificed their own life and get magical powers in the process, but to each their own

[dizazter-dragoon]

CW: Minors DNI, suggestive blurb, don't use fights as foreplay irl, as always characters are aged up

Just,,,The idea of Bakugou liking getting kidnapped or held for ransom by shitty villains on occasion just to rile reader up is very funny to me. Like most of the time, reader is just a sweet mid-low rank support hero until Bakugou is involved and then it's like a switch flip to vigilante mode that he loves.

Bank Robber: I'll let the hostages go in exchange for a Pro-Hero!

Bakugou: Oh no...¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and then 15 minutes later Bakugou's doing stretches in a quirk collar because he knows you're gonna spend the next week staking your claim on him after your feral ass beats the everloving shit out of the unfortunate villainous bastard

Just- Bakugou watching reader bust in on the villain's shoddy hideout, and leaning his head back to show a bruise below his collarbone "I dunno babe, looks like a hickey to me" (｀∀´)Ψ

[owl127]

So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?

(Ao3)

Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.

Lexa Woods.

She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.

On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.

“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”

Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”

A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”

Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.

“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.

“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.

Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.

The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes. 

She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.

“I know, right?”

Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.

She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.

“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.” 

“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.

“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.

“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.

“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.

“That was a fault!”

“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”

That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”

“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”

And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.

“It was a good run,” Clarke said.

“You don’t think you can win?” 

Clarke snorted. “Do you?”

“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”

“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought. 

“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”

And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.

Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”

“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”

“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.

“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you always like this?”

Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”

“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”

Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”

“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”

Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.

“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.

“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.

Was Clarke flirting with her again?

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”

Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.

“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.

“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?

Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.

“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”

“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”

Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.

“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”

It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.

Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.

Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.

The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.

“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”

Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.

“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.

“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood. 

“My team will want me around after the game.”

Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”

Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.

Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.

[dovedewdrop]

Very much thinking about being his very soft, sweet wife who lives to please him even though he never asks her to do anything for him, she just loves to see the smile on his face.

The kind of soft, sweet wife that cooks his favourite homemade meals and comes up with new recipes that she’s desperate for him to try as soon as he steps foot through the door because she just knows he’ll put one forkful into his mouth and instantly melt into his seat.

Who strokes her fingertips down the bridge of his nose as if he were some kind of feline, letting him nuzzle the side of his face into her equally soft, silk slip dress. Stroking his hair off of his forehead until his eyes begin to close and his form becomes heavy and she has to force him to go to bed with her.

Listening to him talk about his stresses and worries and concerns and when he’s exhausted and doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, letting her chew his ear off about anything and everything.

[myers-meadow]

Tav visits Haarlep after the incubus just finished up having a particular rough session with someone and Tav immediately abandons whatever intentions brought them to the boudoir and tends to Haarlep once it becomes clear that no aftercare occurred. 🐾

oh bless, that's so sweet. Someone to consider his needs above all? Incredible. That's the sort of care he deserves <3.

Even with aftercare, I think he'd often been the one giving, not receiving. Some pampering to set that right, is definitively in order.

Running a bath, his favourite scented oils, a gentle back rub, and then falling asleep listening to you read Raphael's dairy out loud as a bed time story... :) This situation is intimate and unexpected enough that it may even get a "what did I do to deserve you?" out of him <3.

Alright; lil drabble (divider by saradika-graphics)

Haarlep found you as he returned, bone tired, to the boudoir. That was intense. Not the most pleasant either, but pleasant has received new meaning after meeting you, so that's hardly a fair standard.

"Hey love," you reach up to press a kiss to his cheek. "You doing alright?"

"What a pleasure to see you pay me a visit," he flirted, shamelessly, flaunting his body as usual as he dragged himself over to the healing pool.

"You don't look that fine to me." You follow him, your armour clanking on the floor behind you as you go. The water smells like cherry, Raphael's favourite. It'll have to do, as your love doesn't seem patient enough to wait for you to run another bath. The water parts before him, the crystal blue contrasting against the red of his skin, and he sinks in deep.

"Just tired."

"Don't tell me you pulled a muscle." you joke, keeping your tone lighthearted. "Would Raphael feel that one too?"

The incubus snorts. "I'm sure you know of a way to make me feel better."

Sex. Everything always seemed to be about sex to him. A lot was, sure. But not tonight. You settle behind him, up to your shoulders in the water. It's always the perfect temperature, a hot bath is truly a luxury. The sponge drips water on his shoulders, beading like glass against his oiled skin. With gentle circles, you wash him. He hums, and after a while, his eyes sink shut. Smiling as you watch him, you take your time to enjoy this moment.

"Lean your head back," you say, softly. He does, and his hair is next. When you're done, you climb onto his lap, the incubus' skin hotter than the water, and bring your hands to his face. His eyes open slowly, blinking like a cat, and his arms snake around your waist.

"Am I being pampered? My my..."

"You wish," you retort, "I'm just trying to get my fill of how delicious you are when you keep your mouth shut." To soothe the sting of your playful teasing, you peck a kiss on his lips.

His laughter rings through the boudoir. "Very well. I'll indulge you."

[the--firevenus]

"Sometimes I feel like you're a completely different person... As if you're reborn... But then I thought to myself, no that can't be right... Cuz your eyes still shine like a star under the night sky, you still sang a song from language I don't know, you still hold my hands despite you now no longer know why.... You may be different, but you are still... My friend, Merlin."

Hogan to Merlin, probably

[sysig]

Delusions (Patreon)

"Could I have your hand, sir?" Max didn't move, which Dexter was, sadly, getting used to.

"Sir?" Max jerked, then turned and stared at him, lost and blank. "Your hand, please."

Max's hand lifted shakily, and he laid it gently in Dexter's upturned palm. Dexter gave a quick and quiet "thank you," then turned it over in his own hand, observing him closely.

Too closely - his knuckles were rough and his fingernails were dull and cracked in places. His once-soft, not-a-day-in-his-life-subjected-to-hard-labour hands were now, already, toughened and split and scarred in places, especially the heel of his palm. He turned it over again, this time to stop looking so intensely. He had only wanted to give it a cursory glance to begin with.

"Do you know what I see, sir?" he asked as conversationally as he could manage, running his fingers along Max's abused flesh. He seemed to be at least half paying attention, his eye gazing down between them, and he'd occasionally twitch, encouragingly Dexter thought. He seemed to want to curl around him, then stopped and shook, his hand squeezing into a fist. Dexter coaxed him back out, encouraged him to hold himself lightly.

"What do you see?" He was almost startled by Max actually continuing their conversation, that happened so rarely now, shaking and quiet as it was. He took a deep breath, was he really going to do this?

"I see a hand, with five fingers." Max remained quiet, though his brow curled, and a guarded look came into his eye, though he still wasn't looking at Dexter. He felt a pang of guilt, but he had to try. "What do you see?"

Max's eye unfocused and began to water. He looked up, but not enough to reach Dexter's gaze in return, instead staring through his chest, and he felt just as hollow and empty as he must look to him.

"Do you take me for a fool, DAX?" Quiet and as close to angry as he'd heard since they'd been here.

No, not angry.

Betrayed.

He swallowed down the stinging lump at the back of his throat. He had to put on a brave face, had to keep his composure if he wanted Max to get better. That was the only thing he wanted, more than anything.

"Of course not, sir. Genuinely, what do you see?"

Max pulled his hand away and turned his body, his bandaged side facing Dexter. Shutting him out, pointedly. Dexter's empty hand curled into a fist, he was no better.

"Please, don't..." Max took a shallow, shuddering breath, and several beats before he spoke again, even quieter. "Don't ridicule me." Dexter could hear his breath catch, and he wanted nothing more than for this all to just stop.

"Sir, I didn't-"

"I've had enough of that." He shook his head stiffly, the action strange and wrong, like he had forgotten how. He stilled, his head turned even further away. "More than enough."