#also like All Of The Suits From This Place it's super soft and the inner pockets and inside are Super Soft

[todayisafridaynight]

girl in the lift was like 'oh i really like your suit- i really like the color :)' like thanks 😏 it's a reference to the worst man ever 😏

Sorry everyone i finally found a color-accurate suit for aoki im going to be so annoying

[weirdo-fun]

What Else Can I Do?

Azriel x Reader - Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is my first ever fic. I don't know if this will be good at all or people will even like it. This idea has been in my head for a few months and I finally caved and wrote it. This will be a few chapters maybe 3 chapters long? I don't know but I hope you enjoy! Also side note grammar is not my strong suit, so if there are any grammar mistakes please be nice. :)

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Reader ends up geting turned fae and befriends Elain and gets super close with her. But Reader notices Elain gets treated differently, and Reader would like to change that but a certain batboy always gets in her way of trying to help her friend and under her skin.

Word Count: 1.7 K

Warnings: Bickering, slight dislike of inner circle, slight enemies to lovers, fem! reader, reader being sort of a rebel

Author's Note: Was this slightly insipred by "What Else Can I Do?" From Encanto? Maybe... (I do not claim or take credit for the song, all rights for the song go to the respected owners)

Side Note: Azriel will come into the story later I promise.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” You ask Elain as you sit on in arm chair with both legs draped across one arm of the chair with your back leaning against the other one. The book you were just reading now lay on your chest as you look at Elain who is sitting, a lot more elegantly, on a sofa adjacent to you. You wait for her to answer as you give her a questionable look. 

She sheepishly looks up from her own book. “I don’t mind it. I know they only want whats best for me and to protect me.” You raise an eyebrow at her not entirely believing her. “Yeah, but doesn’t it bother you that they practically tell you what you can and can’t do?” You ask, pushing the conversation more. 

These have been questions you have had for a while. Ever since you and Archeron sisters were thrown into the caldron and turned High Fae, everyone decided, weather subconsciously or not, to keep Elain in this sort of bubble. Treating her as this precious flower that needs all the protection from everyone. You never had any ill will towards Elain, she is a very feminine woman who does tend to be on the more soft spoken side, which is what makes Elain Elain. This is what gravitated you towards Elain and wanting to be her friend. Being a very outspoken and extroverted person you always tended to befriend the more quiet types. It has always been this way since you were a child. The extroverted girl talking and hanging out with the introverts. You don’t know why you subconsciously gravitated to being friends with the quieter crowd when you were the complete opposite. Maybe it gave balance in your life. You being the talker and the other one being the listener. You don’t know why or how but those friendships always worked out when you were mortal. 

That was true until you accidentally, more like breaking a rule, decided to take a stroll in the middle of the night throughout the Archeron estate. You were a newly hired servant and you were too excited for your new job that you couldn’t sleep so you walked around the estate and ended up in the middle of the crossfire of the Archeron sisters, Nesta and Elain, being kidnapped. You of course jumped in to help but ended up being taken as well. 

After being turned and by the grace of the Mother, the Inner Circle allowed you to stay even though you weren’t related to the Archeron’s. You were still turned fae and needed a place to stay. Although the healing process was slow and mostly done on your own you never thought the inner circle was completely bad.  

It wasn’t until Elain finally started to come around and was healing from her trauma when you decided to befriend her. You guys fastly became close. Mostly thanks to you for always seeking her out and wanting to strike up a conversation. From the outside it may have appeared that you kept forcing yourself in her life but Elain wouldn’t turn you away and she would start conversations a good portion of the time. But it was when you guys started to become close that you noticed the treatment that the inner circle gave her. You never said anything in the beginning thinking you were thinking too much into it. But after so many days, and even weeks of the same treatment that you were questioning everything regarding Elain. 

You have questioned Elain about this treatment but she would brush it off saying things like “oh well i don’t see a difference” or “it’s ok Reader they are just being friendly and making sure I am ok.” And you haven’t pushed Elain further until today. 

A certain bat boy got under your skin earlier. And to be frank, he actually has always gotten under your skin when it comes to Elain. He is the master of the “delicate flower treatment” towards Elain. This treatment would be cute if 1) he was courting her, which he isn’t and 2) if it was dialed waaaaay back and the treatments actually respected her as being a true adult woman and not a fragile little girl. 

Azriel, is the bat that gets under your skin. You have tried to be friendly to him but he never talks to you and you never know what he is thinking. His face, although you first thought very handsome when you first met him, is always expressionless and stone cold. You have tried to be civil with him but because of your outspoken and extroverted nature he mostly disagrees with you for the simple fact that he knows you don’t like how he treats Elain. You have confronted him before about the matter in a friendly way but he shut you out and blew you off saying how you don’t know anything about what Elain has gone through and you don’t know whats best for her. The whole interaction left your relationship with him strained. And since then both you and Azriel have been on opposite sides on everything. Both wanting to challenge each other and win; never seeing eye to eye.  

Elain sheepishly shrugs. “I don’t think they really do-.” “Girl, no they do.” You interrupt her sternly. She looks at the ground and her posture slouches a little and you can tell that she knows your right. That her sister, with Cassian, and especially Azriel treat her as a fragile little princess. That anything can break her. But she survived the Caldron, she survived her trauma from it. You know she is a strong woman and you try to show her that; try to show the inner circle that. “You know I am right.” You say in a firm way as you swing your legs from on top of the arm rest to sitting right in the chair with your feet on the ground and back straight. She looks at you with innocent and confused eyes. “Well, I don’t know what to say to them when they tell me what I can and can’t do. I just agree because I don’t want to create conflict with them.” She softens her tone at the end, getting shy and embarrassed. “But is that what you want?” You ask her straight in the eye. “To keep agreeing with whatever they say and tell you how to live your life? To not have an opinion or a say? Is that what you want?” You ask in a calm yet concerned manner. “Well, it’s just that-” “Is that what you want?” “Well no but-” “Is that what you want?!” “I can’t just-” “ELAIN! Is that what you want?!” You yell for a third time. Wanting to hear her true feelings, her true thoughts and opinions on the matter. With no bullcrap excuse about how she won’t mind for stupid reasons. And no running away from this conversation. 

“No.” She speaks so softly that you don’t hear it. “What?” You ask leaning into her to hear what she said. “No” Elain says. You hear it this time, but her head is down and her hair is fell in front of her face, not being able to see her. “Elain what did you say? I can’t hear you?” You lie to her to try and get her to voice her opinion louder and to lift her head up and say it more confidently. She slowly lifts her head, straightens her back and looks at you with truthful eyes. “No. That is not what I want.” She says without her voice wavering. “I would like to go out shopping when I want to go. I would like for them to tell me things straight up and stop carefully stepping around eggshells thinking I won’t be able to handle it, that I might break.” 

You smile at her. Proud that she was finally able to say what she was feeling out loud. You walk over to her and pull her up to stand and give her a hug. “That is all I wanted to hear you say.” You look at her proudly holding onto her upper arms. “But, I still don’t know how to tell that to them. You know it’s hard for me to voice my opinion.” You shake your head. “We will take this one step at a time. Step one was to get you to voice out loud to me what you actually want. And we did that, so congratulations.” You tease as you walk back over to the arm chair you were sitting at to pick up the book you were reading. “Well then what’s the next step?” Elain asks curiously. You smirk and turn towards her. She sees the smirk on your face knowing you are already planning something. Her eyes widen in concern because every time you had a plan it would always get you in trouble and Azriel would always be the one to scold you. But you keep doing these “plans” because you didn’t care what Azriel was going to tell you.

“Remember when you told me that you thought my power could do so much more, than make pretty plants and flowers?” You ask as you create just a simple pink rose on your hand. “Yes.” She nods, not knowing where this conversations was going. You smile, “Well, I have been secretly trying to practice to create new things but it’s hard when just in the confines on my room.” You hand her the pink rose that you just created. “Why don’t we take a walk through the forest. And maybe along our walk I try to practice without the worry of the inner circles eyes and ears.” You ask sheepishly. “Look I know this is supposed to be about you but I would just like to be with my favorite person in the forest exploring my power more without judging eyes.” You plead. Elain nods and gives a small smile. “Thank you Reader for wanting to help me. And if helping me also includes me being able to see your power that I am super jealous of by the way, then yes.” You smile at her, grab her hand and both of you guys start to giggle like little girls as you guys walk out of the living area planning to “sneak out”. 

That is it for Chapter 1! Did I also give Reader Isabela's powers?...Read the next chapter to find out! I am already thinking about chapter 2 and I promise Azriel and Reader will be interacting with each but I was setting everything up until then. But chapter 2 may take me while to publish because I am getting ready for my vacation but depending on how people react to this I may be motivated to publish it sooner. ;) Please if you have feedback leave a comment because I would love to read them. Thank you so much for reading and if you made it this far. Until next time, take care everyone!

[zenonaa]

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Tofu!

[ao3]

Byakuya glares at his all-electric Toyota that should be fully charged and ready to go. Instead it sits in his driveway, refusing to switch on despite working perfectly well the night before. Fixing it shouldn’t be an issue. Though he isn’t a former Super High School Level Mechanic with pointed teeth and cheap hair dye, he knows a fair bit about the inner workings of vehicles. He ran a secondhand automobile business as a preteen, where not only did he sell used cars but fixed them too. In fact, he even taught employees and customers how to repair them. This had been for one of the conglomerate's challenges for choosing an heir, then once he had completed the task, he sold the business to some locals who continued to run it for quite some time afterwards.

The business only became defunct when the world almost ended.

However, while Byakuya could try to repair his car and probably would succeed, he is donning a clean work suit and is due at his job in twenty minutes.

“Togami-chi!” lilts a familiar voice.

A car trundles to a stop on the road perpendicular to Byakuya's driveway. From the driver’s seat, Yasuhiro beams at him, eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

“What are you standing around for? Let me guess. Enjoying the morning dew?”

“Do I look like I’m enjoying myself?” says Byakuya, scowling.

Yasuhiro squints. Adjusts his spectacles. “Uh...”

“My car isn’t starting,” says Byakuya bluntly.

“Did you charge it?”

“Of course I did,” snaps Byakuya. “There shouldn’t be anything wrong with it.”

Yet it won't start up at all. He shoots it a frosty look.

“Cars break down for all sorts of reasons. Electronics failure, motor corrosion...” Yasuhiro counts off his fingers. “The all-mighty Indra has the flu...”

Byakuya’s lips almost disappear into his mouth as he purses them.

“No matter. I can work from home,” says Byakuya, even if he prefers to teach his students in person. Less distractions. Better internet connection. Decent coffee.

Yasuhiro waves a hand. “No need for that. I'll give you a lift, ‘right?”

A single furrow dents Byakuya’s brow while Yasuhiro's car is dented in several places. Not including its owner, it’s a car only Columbo could love. Whatever’s wrong with the suspension means the car seems to lurch every time it goes over a pebble. As he stares at it, Byakuya half-expects the tires to roll off in different directions and the vehicle to suddenly be enveloped in a ball of flames.

It’s in Byakuya’s best interest to refuse. He cups his chin. Then again, not only would he rather be physically at the school than teaching his students from home, he has also been looking forward to lunch today.

“... Fine,” says Byakuya. “I accept.”

A wide grin spreads across Yasuhiro’s face. “I knew you’d come around. Hop on in!”

But when Byakuya heads toward the front passenger seat, Yasuhiro waves his hands frantically.

“Sorry, dude! That door won’t open. And I, uh, need to clean that seat anyway. I got some ketchup stains on it... You know what burgers are like.”

Byakuya had thought he knew what burgers were like, having even eaten his first one two years ago. Since meeting Yasuhiro, however, he isn’t so sure about them. Like how he isn’t so sure he should get into Yasuhiro’s car. His fists clench at his sides as he reminds himself that he would prefer to be physically present at the school, that he has survived much more hazardous situations than this, and he has really been looking forward to today’s lunch.

So long as he makes it there alive, anyway.

Squaring his shoulders, Byakuya forces himself into the back of the car. The stitching on the seats frays in some places, puckers in others, but is surprisingly clean. Like it has recently been washed. He can see moisture on the windows and a few crumbs on the floor, but overall, the interior isn't too horrific. Somewhat cramped, but dare he say tolerable.

And it’s just a ten minute journey. Yasuhiro glows.

“All righty.” The car rattles as Yasuhiro puts it into gear. “We’ll be on our way to Hope’s Peak in no time... just as soon as we collect Fukawa-chi.”

Byakuya's brow crinkles. “What?”

The car jerks forward, jolting Byakuya. With a grimace, he settles into his seat as best he can and looks out of the window. Touko only lives down the road, so it won't eat up too much of his time. He is slightly surprised that Yasuhiro is giving her a lift to work, though. Other than Makoto and Byakuya, Touko doesn't usually feel comfortable enough to accept rides alone with men.

The car soon stops, spluttering as it does so. Byakuya and his fellow killing game survivors used to live on Hope's Peak’s campus, but after it was sufficiently rebuilt, they moved into some modest housing in a street across the city. Even if the school is quite different now, none of them can stomach living there full-time, permanently.

He folds his arms over his chest. Drums his fingers.

“We'll pop Fukawa-chi in the back next to you,” says Yasuhiro. “Won't it be nice to see her again?”

“I saw her yesterday.” Byakuya glowers. “You know I don't like being late.”

Yasuhiro laughs. “You won't be late. She'll be out any minute now, ‘right?”

Touko’s house resembles the others on the street for the most part, two stories with a window embedded in its slanted roof. The garden is what makes her home recognisable, with long grass, wildflowers throughout and log piles. When the front door opens, Byakuya’s eyes draw toward the movement, and out comes Touko. Her single braid bounces as she hurries down the path.

His eyebrows raise a tad. She seems oddly eager to get into Yasuhiro’s car.

“Good morning, Fukawa-chi!” Yasuhiro says as she slips into the back of the car.

Touko doesn't spare Yasuhiro a glance. “Good morning, Byakuya-sama!”

She must have spotted Byakuya from her window. That explained why she came over to Yasuhiro’s car so enthusiastically. Though, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had known of Byakuya’s arrival without having to look outside. There must be some logical explanation, but she has an almost uncanny ability to know when he’s nearby... something he has somehow gained over the years.

Probably just intuition. Yes.

“Good morning,” says Byakuya before curling his lip in disdain. “Is that everyone, Hagakure? Or are you carpooling the whole street today?”

“Just you two,” Yasuhiro replies. “Next stop, work!”

The car emits a grinding noise that Byakuya doesn’t think cars should make, then they’re on the move. Byakuya stares out of the window again and tightens his lips. Without needing to look at Touko, he knows she’s staring at him. He can imagine her unblinking grey eyes, her chapped lips smile. The mole by her mouth. By now, he's very familiar with the sight of her. Understandable. They see each other inside and outside of work.

“Anyone want music?” asks Yasuhiro.

“No,” Byakuya and Touko say in unison.

Yasuhiro flicks the car radio on. The song begins with almost-immediate dialogue, a woman speaking in English about having rotten judgement. Within a few lines, the tempo picks up and a backing choir joins in. Byakuya still doesn’t recognise the song, but he doesn’t care to know either. He checks his wristwatch. Despite the minor detour, they should still arrive on time.

“Have you ever seen Hercules, Togami-chi?” asks Yasuhiro.

“No, I haven’t seen the fictional son of the fictional god of sky and thunder,” says Byakuya.

“I mean the Disney movie! This song is in it. It’s when this chick called Meg doesn’t want to admit she’s fallen in love with Hercules, so these pretty goddess ladies try to coax her into embracing her feelings.”

Byakuya doesn’t recall asking him to elaborate.

“I’ve seen it,” Touko pipes up, fidgeting her hands. “I didn’t watch any Disney movies as a kid, but Komaru has shown me some... I really enjoyed M-Megara’s character. She resonated with me a lot.”

A character that’s similar to Touko isn’t what Byakuya would expect from that kind of mass media company. And from what he knows of Megara from Greek mythology, he can’t see the resemblance. He turns to her, curious. “Why is that?”

“You should totally watch it sometime, Togami-chi!” says Yasuhiro before Touko can reply. “You could get together with Fukawa-chi, sit on the couch, share some popcorn...”

Touko growls. “Don’t interrupt me!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Yasuhiro says, wincing.

She looks at Byakuya again. “The character, Megara... Her story in the movie is different to her usual depiction in Greek mythology. In the movie, s-she sold her soul to Hades in a deal to bring back her dead lover, only for him to fall in love with someone else. It left her jaded and unable to trust easily, until she met Hercules...”

“That is quite different,” replies Byakuya. “In Greek mythology, she’s gifted to Hercules by her father for winning a war. Then, while Hercules was under a spell of madness, he murdered their children and in many retellings slayed her as well.”

“He’s different in the movie. Much more... palatable. In the mythology, as you will know, with his third wife, Deianira, he was constantly unfaithful and abusive toward her, and h-he even...”

“Girl, don't be proud! It's okay you're in love!” Yasuhiro belts along with the radio, earning glares from both Byakuya and Touko.

The song peters out soon after and the next rolls on. It immediately starts with dialogue as well, in English again, but this time with goofy voices that Yasuhiro tries to imitate.

“I can see what’s happening, and they don’t have a clue. They'll fall in love, and here's the bottom line. Our trio's down to two.”

“Is this from that movie as well?” asks Byakuya.

“Nope. Still Disney, but Lion King this time,” says Yasuhiro.

Byakuya squints. “Are you playing a Disney CD?”

“Yep!”

“Do you have anything else we can listen to?”

“The CD tray won’t open. It’s jammed.”

Of course.

“Does your radio have an off switch?” asks Byakuya.

“Aw, it’s not that bad! Did you really not watch any Disney movies growing up, Togami-chi?”

“No, I didn’t. I was more interested in works by directors such as Shinya Tsukamoto and Seijun Suzuki.”

Touko, who had been listening and quietly twiddling her fingers, perks up. “E-Excellent taste, Byakuya-sama! And it’s thanks to you helping me overcome my fear of blood that I could recently watch one of Tsukamoto’s finest works.”

Byakuya knows exactly which she is referring to. The premise is that the main character had double vision that caused her to hallucinate doppelgangers who wanted to harm her child. He had recommended it to Touko, actually.

“That one was interesting, wasn’t it?” he says. “Mental health is still a rather taboo subject in this country. And you did well tolerating the graphic imagery, as her hallucinations about her son dying can get incredibly violent. There was also a lot of self-mutilation in it with the main character...”

“Indeed. But she did it for an unusual reason... She was fascinated by her body’s determination t-to stay alive. It was gruesome, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was strangely cathartic...”

“I thought you would enjoy it. You know, when I look at you, due to your alter, it’s as if I see two people that appear the same but are remarkably different... one being a serial killer, and the other of course being you.”

“Can you feel the love tonight?” warbles a woman’s voice.

“Hey, uh, it’s nice seeing you two get along and all, but let’s keep the tone light, ‘right?” says Yasuhiro, frowning.

Byakuya and Touko glare at him. It’s not that he’s wrong - over time, Byakuya has discovered that he and Touko share a number of interests, and their discussions can get quite deep and passionate. So yes, he and Touko can and do get along now, but he doesn’t need Yasuhiro to say that. Or to interrupt their discussion.

According to Byakuya’s wristwatch, they should reach Hope’s Peak in approximately five minutes. Only one, maybe two more songs can play within that time. Then Byakuya can leave the car, go into work, and finally...

“Uh oh,” Yasuhiro says loudly. “Traffic!”

Byakuya and Touko both look outside of the car and stiffen. Last time he checked, a mere minute ago, the road had been busy with just the usual morning traffic. Now motor vehicles pack them in on all sides and cram the road as far as he can see. They're all at a standstill.

“Huh. Is it the Pride Parade already?” asks Yasuhiro.

“That was last month,” says Byakuya. He scowls. “Idiot, we all went together, remember?”

“Welcome to the impromptu Sayaka Maizono Tribute Act!” booms a disembodied feminine voice. “Today would have been her early twenty something birthday... so to celebrate her life, we have taken over the city to play her songs all day! Let's kick things off with a classic... Let's Be In Together, Best Friend’!”

Obnoxious pop music blasts from outside of Yasuhiro's car. Touko shrieks, while Byakuya restrains himself to a shoulder twitch. For this supposedly being an impromptu event, the organisers seem to have fitted speakers throughout the city with remarkable speed. Around them, the other vehicles empty out as their occupants stand on their roofs and start dancing to the beat.

“This is unbelievable,” says Byakuya. “I'm walking the rest of the way.”

He tries to open the door, only for it to not budge. Hopefully it's just child lock, though he wouldn't be surprised if the door is broken.

“Unlock the door,” says Byakuya.

Yasuhiro shakes his head. “No can do, I’m afraid. It’s too wild out there, Togami-chi. And hot... Without the air con, you’d melt within seconds. This is for your own safety.”

As if on cue, the people outside start jumping and screaming. Touko yelps and hides her head under her arms, as if a group of hooligans will leap over to their car and start stomping on it too. It's peculiar how someone so strong, who had helped save a city, save the world, is cowering at ordinary nine-to-five workers dancing. Then again, Touko has always seemed to view the world in a unique way.

Touko is a peculiar person.

“In here, we’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about,” says Yasuhiro. Byakuya tears his gaze from the roof.

“We’re due at work very soon,” he reminds him in a tight voice.

“Ah.” Yasuhiro wags a finger. “That's where you're wrong. Check the teachers’ group chat.”

The smirk on Yasuhiro's face is unbearable. Byakuya pulls out his phone and swats at the screen until he brings up the aforementioned chat. Near the bottom is a message from Makoto Naegi.

‘Hi all, classes are cancelled today - there's a music event going on in the city centre and most of the students are bunking off to take part, so I figure we may as well officially have a day off today. Have fun!’

“What sort of headmaster is this?” Byakuya says in disbelief, staring at his phone.

“One who was a close friend of the person everyone’s celebrating, as well as the older brother of a fanatic Sayaker,” replies Touko.

“Look on the bright side, now you’re not going to be late,” says Yasuhiro, grinning widely. “You can stay here with me and Fukawa-chi without worry!”

Either Byakuya can brave trekking back home through the city in the heat, where it's congested and he risks being swept into a stampede, or continue to sit in Yasuhiro’s car.

“Tell me, princess. Now when did you last let your heart decide?” warbles the radio.

Byakuya starts pulling harder on the door handle. Yasuhiro twitches.

“Togami-chi! You’re gonna break my car!”

“And it’s not already falling apart?” Byakuya snaps.

A rare look of seriousness washes across Yasuhiro’s face.

“I see now... I know what’s happening.” Yasuhiro opens the sunroof. “You’re hungry. Tell you what. There’s a generic fast food restaurant nearby. I’ll grab us an early lunch before the midday rush. You two stay here and I’ll be right back. You can pay me back later.”

“Wait. Why are you able to leave but not me?” asks Byakuya.

Yasuhiro gives him a pitying look. “Togami-chi, I hate to break it to ya, but you look like the sort of person that people would want to rob.”

“What?”

Without another word, Yasuhiro climbs out through the sunroof. The car shakes a bit as he clomps across the bonnet before jumping off. Then he disappears into the crowd, leaving Byakuya and Touko alone in the car together.

“The only person who has been robbed is me, as you've stolen my heart,” says Touko, placing a hand over her heart.

Byakuya’s eyes roll. “If I possessed your heart, you would be dead.”

As quick as a cat, Touko clasps her hands together and says, “Ah... that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

 “I died, and so I am in heaven...”

Some people have the nerve to clap back at him. Others just have the capability. Few possess both qualities. In the past, Byakuya would have dismissed her as being stupid or delusional, but he has come to acknowledge, almost admire, her responses.

He clicks his tongue. With the sunroof open, music pours in from outside, a song called ‘Girls Are Yummy.’ It meshes with the off-key singing of the audience, and the radio's tune.

“That fool left the sunroof open,” says Touko, squinting upward.

“And he left the radio on,” adds Byakuya.

If he's going to be detained in Yasuhiro’s car for some time, he may as well try to make himself more comfortable. He leans over between the front seats. First, he locks the car, in case someone tries to drag him out and get him to join in the celebrations. Then he focuses on the sunroof and radio. Though he succeeds in shutting the sunroof, which only slightly muffles the noise that had been pouring in from outside, the radio doesn't respond to any of his button presses.

This goes beyond the CD tray being jammed. Frowning, he stretches over to take the keys out of the ignition, but the music continues even then.

“What...?”

Without the engine on, the radio shouldn’t be able to play anything. Yet it is. After a few more attempts at pressing on the radio, Byakuya stops shy of punching it, instead returning the key so they can have air con again and withdrawing back.

His weight shifts. He wobbles. Falls backward. And onto Touko's lap.

“Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she wants you too. There is one way to ask her,” sings the radio.

“I was enjoying the view before, but I think I prefer this side of you,” says Touko, smirking.

Byakuya’s face burns. “You need to watch your mouth.”

“Do I? We’re finally alone,” says Touko, undeterred. “Now that oaf’s gone.”

She isn’t wrong.

“Nobody’s paying us any attention,” she says, with a smile that sends a shiver down him. “They’re all engrossed in the event.”

That smile used to repulse him. Used to make his skin crawl, his stomach flutter. He supposes her smile still has that effect on him, but now he doesn't mind the sensation so much. Dare he say he might even like it. Enough that he brushes some hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear so he can see the curve of her lips better.

“In that movie by Tsukamoto, despite the danger of being around the main character, her guardian angel loves her and lets her use him as a punching bag,” says Touko.

“Perhaps he is just a figment of her imagination?” he suggests lightly, his hand resting on her cheek still.

Touko hums. “He could be real.”

“You referred to him as a guardian angel.”

“That’s not a contradiction.”

Byakuya clicks his tongue, looking at her while she looks at him. When her smile widens, he smiles back slightly.

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la. Float along and listen to the song. The song say kiss the girl,” the radio warbles. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if a different song had been playing, or if the radio had been silent. Byakuya still would have leaned in, and their lips still would have met. His eyes flutter shut. Keeping his hand on her cheek, his other holds her upper arm. Their mouths lock together, slowly enough that the movement doesn’t disturb their glasses. He can’t see her, and with the cacophony going on all around them, he can barely hear her either, barely hear her quiet mewls and hitches of breath. But he can feel her fingers curl in his hair, feel her body press closer. A hand lands on his thigh. And he can feel her warmth.

When his head draws back slightly, his lips tingle. Hers remain puckered.

“I suppose it’s not too bad being here after all,” he remarks quietly. To think he would be saying this in Yasuhiro Hagakure’s car. Or while surrounded by fevered idol fans. But Touko has always been an anomaly. When others defy him, his spit becomes acid. Yet when she stands her ground, he places his feet by hers. “Though I’m surprised you accepted a lift from Hagakure this morning. I thought Naegi and I were the only guys you felt comfortable being in a car alone with.”

“That’s still true...” Touko squirms a bit. “I would have declined if he hadn’t said he was giving you a lift because your car wouldn’t start.”

That makes Byakuya flinch.

“Byakuya-sama?” she says, confused.

“That can’t be right,” he tells her. “Hagakure stumbled upon me when my car was refusing to start. Then after I got in the car, he said he was on his way to collect you...”

Byakuya looks away from her, as if expecting the car’s interior to grow teeth and crush them. For a trap, any trap, to be revealed. Instead, he spots Yasuhiro, whose grinning face is pressed against the window. Soon after, Touko notices him too and shrieks. Yasuhiro jolts back with a scream.

“Hagakure!” Byakuya seethes while Touko disentangles herself from him. Both are equally flustered. He could ask Yasuhiro how long he was there for, but right now he’d rather not know. “Explain yourself. How were you able to tell Fukawa you were giving me a lift to work this morning before I told you that my car had broken down?”

“I... um...” Yasuhiro tries to smile again. “I have good intuition?”

“I will phone your mother in precisely three seconds if you don’t explain yourself.”

“No! Anything but that!” Yasuhiro squeezes his hands together, trembling. “Okay, so I might have loosened the battery terminal before you went out this morning... but I did so with good intentions! You and Fukawa-chi were about to get together and kiss just now, ‘right? I’m doing you a favour.”

Byakuya stares at him, wide-eyed. A few seconds later, his brow furrows.

“Idiot,” he says. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

Yasuhiro’s head jerks back. “Huh?”

Touko’s initial shock at seeing him quickly melts. She shoots a fiery glare his way.

“W-Weren’t you paying attention when Byakuya-sama announced our new relationship status at lunch five months ago?” she asks.

“I think I was going through a phase with a certain mobile game and must have missed him saying it,” says Yasuhiro, scratching his head. 

“We’ve held hands on multiple occasions,” says Byakuya. “We’ve kissed in your presence.”

Yasuhiro clicks his fingers.

“Oh yeah. That’s right, I remember now. Well, anyway, I brought lunch.” He tries to open the door. “Can you let me back in please?”

“No,” says Byakuya. “You wanted us to be alone in here, so we’ll give you your wish.”

“And we don’t need any of your shitty food either. We h-have the lunch I made for myself and Byakuya-sama to enjoy,” adds Touko.

“Hey, I put a lot of effort into setting this all up!” Yasuhiro shoves his paper bag containing fast food against the car window. “I had to prove my loyalty to the Official Sayakers Fan Club by buying a year's membership, then I had to get a tattoo on my butt before they’d hear my idea out on their reddit. Also, it’s my car!”

Only Yasuhiro would think that would endear himself to anyone in any way. Byakuya wishes he was in the driver’s seat so he could run Yasuhiro over. Except there’s too much traffic to move the car even if he wanted to. Traffic that Yasuhiro created with his pointless scheme.

“Scram!” says Byakuya.

“Ignore him, darling.” Touko touches a hand to his cheek and turns his head toward her. “Or would it help if I distracted you?”

Before he can think of a reply, her lips soar up and latch onto his. A shiver washes through Byakuya, tingling in his extremities. He’s fully aware that Yasuhiro can see them, and though Yasuhiro has seen them kiss before, this feels different somehow. Like being in this enclosed space means what they’re doing should be totally private. Yet when she pushes him onto his back and lies on top of him, he has no desire to break free. And when her tongue kneads at the divide between his lips, he grabs her behind with one hand and opens his mouth.

If Yasuhiro likes movies so much, Byakuya will give him a full goddamn performance.

“No! Please!” Yasuhiro bangs on the window. “Not on the seats! I only just got them cleaned from when I tried this with Naegi-chi and Kirigiri-chi last week!”

[swimmingleo]

meddle anon here and OMG that's exactly what i was going to say about the album!!!!!!

for some reason i hadn't listened to all the songs???? and i did a few days ago and i was so blown away bc i already thought it was a good album (from the songs i knew), like it's one of their albums that i really liked but after listening to the entire album, i think it's so fascinating and interesting musically (is that the correct word? idk)?? bc it literally starts like i will kill you🔪🔪🔪 and then you get a beautiful melodic (is that the correct word?) song and then you get songs that are pure summer and then oh there's also a doggo and then BOOM one of the greatest songs you've ever heard, a fucking beast of a song. and it's all in ONE album!!! that's craaaaazy. the contrast between the first and last song and the others in the middle is really so fascinating to me. sorry sorry my words are all over the place idk how else to say it Haha but yeah you get my point. anyway, meddle is suuuuuch a good album and so underrated imo, such a great and creative project. i looove love love it <3

also question; if louis was to cover a pf song, which one do you think he would choose and which one would you want him to choose?

imo he'd choose maybe money or have a cigar (for obvious reasons) and i think have a cigar would reeeeally suit his voice, wish you were here too.

THISSS YES meddle is that one album that all fans agree SLAPS it has to be my favourite experimental piece they've done, you can just hear the passion yk? I have my own theories on the band's inner relationships (UOs, if you will 💅) but it's clear they were at a peak of camaraderie and artistic osmosis on that record and it paid off!! the way they would get super defensive over seamus being slandered by music critics is also very endearing to me lol

as for louis, money would be amazing for his band to have fun with omg and his version of have a cigar would be AMAZING and ofc he'd make me bawl if he did wish you were here, the softness of his voice paired with how expressive he can get </3 but if I wanted him to cover one song... Cymbaline. for the chaos it would cause once the louies get into the lyrics (+ would sound great with his voice)

[husbandohunter]

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

------------

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

[erodasfishtacos]

The Brits Dilemma

” Prompt: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband.

Word Count: 1.8 k +

Warnings: Depictions of breastfeeding

+++++++

The award show was going well. It was the first time Y/N had been out in nearly three months besides a few brunch dates and grocery shopping.

Usually, she was pretty confident in what she wore to accompany her husband to all of these flashy events - but not tonight.

Her bump had deflated but she was still attempting to get rid of the stubborn pouch that stayed after the baby had been born. It wasn’t anything out of the norm - just still trying to lose it.

She was breastfeeding and her breasts were much larger than before. They felt heavy and too big for her body. Not to mention, they were constantly swollen and achey. Pads were a must so she doesn’t leak through the tight satin black dress.

The dress was a beautiful custom design by Gucci that complimented Harry’s sharp suit but nothing felt right. It was digging into her sides and made it hard for her to sit on her chair.

The Brits were held in the O2 Arena which wasn’t very far from their London home but she felt like she was lightyears away from her baby. Even though she knew Sasha was in good hands with Anne.

Y/N was so proud of Harry for being up for five - yes, five different awards. It was a record for him and she didn’t want to let him down by complaining. It was his night. He’s been such a devote father - he deserved a break too.

So she swallowed down the anxiety she was feeling about being away from their little newborn for the night along with her worries about her changing body.

There was milling about between the tables before the show got started. Harry had people coming up him constantly - congratulating him on the album, the nominations, the baby.

Married life and fatherhood suited him well. A dazzling wedding band on his left ring finger, a necklace with an S for his daughter, along with her name freshly inked on right above his butterfly tattoo.

The open jacket he wore with is his barely buttoned dress shirt displayed it proudly. It was beautiful, done delicately in a timeless cursive. The font match his wife name that was tattooed on his hand.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to have a night out with his wife. He had Jeff booked a hotel for the night to have some alone time with you while his mum got to enjoy a night with her only grandchild.

Y/N was counting down the hours up until tomorrow when she could go home to see her baby. She should really tell Harry that she wants to go home and not out to a club and the hotel.

But the it just slowly starts to deteriorate further when a bald, plump business exec comes to greet the two of you. He gives his warm wishes about the birth of your child before smiling at Y/N and stating, “The baby weight will come off soon enough.”

Her throat closes up a bit and she self-consciously tries to push her chair closer to the table. It was the last thing that she needed to hear. Confirming all of her worst insecurities.

Harry glares at the man before turning to his wife, “Hey, you look s’perfect, my love. I’m so bloody lucky you’re mine.”

He’s truly trying his hardest to bring a smile to her face but he notices it’s never quite meeting her eyes. 

It get even worse when Harry gets his first award, male solo artist of the year. 

As she’s standing and clapping for him - she realizes she’s beginning to leak through her nipple inserts.

Y/N excuses herself in the middle of his acceptance speech to rush through the string of tables - out into the corridor. The last thing she wanted to do was for it to show up on a very expensive dress.

The echo of his voice can still be heard, “Love to thank my beautiful wife who makes writing sappy love songs easy and was the main inspiration for my recent album. She also just gave birth to our beautiful baby.....”

She feels awful when she tunes him out, finding the bathroom and hurriedly rushing in. There’s a gorgeous woman standing at the sink, washing their hands. 

Fucking Taylor Swift.

Any other time it’d be awkward and uncomfortable - running into an ex who wrote multiple songs about her husband.

But she couldn’t careless right now, “Hi, erm, this is really weird but could you unzip my dress? I’m leaking and - shit that was way too much information.”

But Taylor smiles kindly, “No! It’s okay, totally. No worries. Congratulations on your baby - you look so hot tonight.”

Y/N laughs and thanks her for unzipping the dress before going into a stall and locking the door. She slides her bra straps off her shoulders and disposes of the soaked pad in the sanitary bin.

Luckily, she has a clean burp rag that she gently swipes at her breast - wincing as it brushes against her swollen nipples. Even the soft fabric felt too rough on them.

It’s a minute or two before the bathroom door swings open, “Y/N? Lovie? Are you in ‘ere?”

She feels guilt at the panic in his voice. Managing to croak out, “I’m in here,” before leaning forward to unlock the door.

Harry waste no time in sliding into the stall before latching the lock again. Taking in the sight of his wife in front of him.

“I-I started leaking, M’sorry,” Y/N whispers, she has no reason to feel embarrassed but she is. “I missed your speech.”

“None of that, baby. I’ll give more speeches for you to hear - I only care that you’re okay. I’m sorry y’leakin, lemme help you, pet.”

In true Harry fashion, he takes the rag and turns on the sink - running it under warm water before carefully cleaning his wife up.

“Are they botherin’ you? They look irritated and super swollen, darling,” Harry frowns, a very gentle thumb coming to brush against her nipple. Then cupping her swollen breast in his hand, thumb rubbing at the pink skin.

“Just a little bit,” She lies, they’re absolutely on fire with chafing and skin irritation from the bra she’s wearing. She never thought she’d miss her nursing bras and sports bras this much.

He nods and helps place new inserts in her bra. Who’d think this is what Harry would be doing between accepting awards. Everyone unassuming in the arena.

**

Harry has been four for four thus far into the ceremony. They’d only had him go up and give two acceptance speeches. His hand firmly planted on his wife’s thigh throughout. 

When he went up for his second award, the camera zooms in and the crowd coos are he plants a kiss on his wife’s lips before pulling her into a hug - whispering something into her ear the audience can’t hear.

He was much more focused on his wife. He could read her fairly well - he’d like to think. Enough to know she’s having much fun. But he didn’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad.

Harry sees the way she keeps adjusting her bra, fidgets with his rings when his hands in his lap, and not even really looking up while one of her favorite artist - Dua Lipa -performs.

Y/N loved a good party before the baby. So Harry was hoping going to the Brits afterparty would make her feel better and then going back to their hotel room for a some alone time.

**

Y/N has been increasingly quiet when they’re exiting the arena after the final award artist of the year - which Harry had also won.

He was on cloud nine and admittedly a little distracted as he joked and laughed with a small group of friends on the way out. 

“Alright, should we all just pile into a cab for the ride to the party?” Nick Grimshaw asks everyone.

Everyone is in agreement - including Harry -as he calls to order one - standing in the blocked off area away from fans and paparazzi.

Y/N wants to tell him she wants to go home to Sasha but when she hears him say, “Can’t wait to get to Exhibit - haven’t been there in forever. One of my favorite clubs.”

She bites her tongue. Harry is enjoying his night out - why can’t she?

In the taxi, she’s sat on Harry’s lap as they make their way to the club. His one hand is on her inner thigh and the other is on her waist holding her steady.

In the morning, she’ll blame her post-partum hormones and anxiety. But she doesn’t even realizing her eyes are filling with tears and when she blinks they spill down her face.

She wouldn’t feel as embarrassed if she wasn’t in the car full of literal celebrities who are filled with adrenaline and excitement. Chattering and drinking from little liquor bottles they’d snuck in their jackets and clutches.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rita Ora asks from her seat - noticing the streaks ruining your makeup.

She nods pathetically, wiping at her eyes but Harry is turning her to face him. His bright green eyes filled with concern as he studies her face.

The previously very obnoxiously loud cab becomes silent as they try to give the couple a semblance of non-existent privacy.

“What’s happening, dove? Are you hurting?” Harry panics, coming to wipe the smeared makeup away.

“I don’t want to go to the club,” Y/N sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut at how embarrassed she is of her behavior. She would usually never act this way - especially in public. And Harry knows that so it makes him even more concerned.

“That’s okay, pet. We can go have a night in, when the cab stops - we can uber back to the hotel,” Harry soothes, surprised when that brings on fresh tears.

“N-no, I want to go home. I miss the baby, I want to- need to see our baby. I-I can’t do this. My anxiety is through the roof, Harry. What if she can’t sleep? Or isn’t taking the bottle?”

“Baby, breathe, breathe. We can go home. I miss the bub terribly too. Have been worried about her all night.”

Harry tugs his wife into his chest further - tucking her head into his neck as he shoots his friends grateful looks. They all nod, sympathetic and understanding - despite them not having kids of their own.

**

“I ruined your night,” Y/N says softly in the back of the uber home. “I leaked during the show; cried in front of all your friends.”

Harry takes her chin gentle but firm until she meets his gaze, “You didn’t ruin anything f’me. All I care about is you and the baby - not some stupid award ceremony or party.”

He continues on, “You just gave us Sasha three months ago - y’bloody amazing. Best mum, best wife. Sexiest too - know you don’t think that right now but your body literally grew my baby. I get a hard-on everytime I see you.”

They both laugh, Y/N leaning forward to capture her husbands lips in a meaningful kiss of gratitude and thanks.

**

Anne smiles kindly when the two of them arrive home. A very fussy, red-faced swaddled baby coddled in her arms. 

“She hasn’t settled for quite a while now - she missed her parents very much,” Harry’s mum tells them, transferring her into her father’s arms. He’s automatically rocking and running his thumb over her cheek.

“Ooh, we missed you. Was Nana nice to you?” Harry coos. Sasha has already quieted and is blinking tearfully up at her smiling father.

“Such a good girl, best girl,” Y/N sighs, leaning in to kiss her downy hair. Harry’s hand coming to wrap around his wife’s waist as they peer down at their perfect little daughter.

Anne smiles at his son and daughter-in-law fawning over their little creation with so much love and adoration.

After a minute of chatting -Harry’s mum makes her way up to the guest room after a long night with a miserable baby. They make their way to their room where Y/N strips out of her tight dress and awful bra. 

She sits against the headboard in just a pair of soft cotton panties. Harry is gently shushing her and humming a melody as his wife gets situated. He knew she was anxious to feed the baby.

“That’s it my sweet thing. Y’missed us, hm? We missed you too, bub. Nana said y’wouldn’t take the bottle. Only want your mumma, hmm?” Harry coos, kissing her chubby cheeks.

He’s then giving Y/N the baby, who ferociously latching within seconds and begins eating like she’d been starved for the last week. Making weak little rumbles as she does so.

They both giggle fondly, Y/Ns fingers come to touch her fluttering cheek - memorizing her over and over again.

Harry gets onto the bed and settles next to the both of them. Watching his baby feed in amazement at what his wife was capable of. He smears a few kisses against her bare shoulder - hand on his baby’s back.

How strong she was - as he knew it had to be at least a little bit painful with how irritated her nipples had been. He can tell when she winces every once in a while.

He plants a few more kisses to her warm skin - noticing her eyes getting a bit droopy as Sasha feeds at a slow, suckling pace.

“If I’m being honest, being with you - watching you feed our baby...I’d rather be here than at any club.” 

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes, “Sure.”

Her husband frowns, “M’serious, this is all I need, baby.”

“I love you, congratulation on all your Brits,” Y/N murmurs, pecking at his lips.

“I love you too. I meant it, during my speeches. I wouldn’t have been able to write those songs if you hadn’t inspired me. You’ll and the bab will always be the best muse.”

[jekacatrina]

Fate don't know you like I do

Hello, guys, have this super cheesy and self indulgent piece I wrote for Bakudeku day! I'm so happy to be part of this fandom and all the wonderful content creators out there, so here's my little contribution, enjoy! I wrote it super fast so sorry for any mistake or typo!

Also, the title is a song I love, please check it out, it inspired the whole thing!

Izuku wakes up to the sight of his bedroom ceiling, body aching and mind restless. He’s no longer wearing his hero suit, except for the undershirt and his pants, everything else is gone. Slowly, the yells of the crowd infiltrate his thoughts and he wishes to run away, to go to where he can’t hurt anyone he cares about.

He has to leave. He is being selfish. Izuku props himself up on his elbows.

“That’s the face of a rabbit ready to bolt,” the gruff voice startles him, and he turns to see Kacchan sitting on his desk, frowning. It adds up that they wouldn't leave him without someone standing guard.

Kacchan has changed out of his hero suit, and a dark grey long sleeved t-shirt hides the bandages on his shoulder and stomach, but Izuku is keenly aware of the wounds he was sporting as he flew around trying to keep him from leaving. By the end, his childhood friend was bleeding through them. That was Izuku’s fault; both Kacchan reopening his injuries and the fact that he has them in the first place.

“Kacchan, I'm so-“

“Save it, nerd,” he abandons the desk chair and shuffles closer.

Izuku takes him in; after weeks of agonizing over the state in which he left Kacchan, seeing him do a perfect arch in the air and stop a villain with a precise AP Shot, filled him with a relief so strong, it paralyzed him, and he was only able to stare in awe.

During the following fight, if Izuku can call it that when it was against his friends, Kacchan was everywhere; coordinating different maneuvers, and he even had a new move. Izuku told his friends they couldn’t keep up, and he remembers vaguely that he apologized, because in reality they’re miles ahead of him.

Still, nobody is like Kacchan: certain and absolute, pure will held together by his convictions. He never backs down, and he never gives up, only marches forward. Izuku never stood a chance against him, in more than one way.

Kacchan kneels by the bed, putting an elbow on the bed, close to his hips, and lazily resting his head on his hand.

“Kacchan, I can’t stay here,” he mumbles, trying to convey all his inner turmoil. He wants to stay, he is so tired and scared, but he will not risk anyone for his sake.

Kacchan frowns in response.

“You can, and you will, dumbass,” he states, surprising him by clutching his forearm. “I’m not chasing your sorry ass around anymore.”

“Then let me go,” Izuku turns his arm, grabbing him as well.

“You’re not going anywhere, Izuku.”

The name travels through his body, lighting him up on the inside, coursing through him with the violence of the first time he used One For All, equally exhilarating and terrifying.

It all comes back to him; the rain, his words, his bow, Izuku collapsing and Kacchan appearing in time to support him.

Izuku.

“You apologized,” he whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “You said all those things in front of the whole class.”

“I had to, asshole, you left before I could tell you in private,” he doesn’t look embarrassed or regretful. Kacchan doesn’t shy away from his decisions once he makes up his mind. “Only a shitty letter for explanation and that was it.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t even let me go with you, idiot.”

“You’re still dealing with the outcome of the last time I let you come with me.” The tears are running freely down his cheeks. “I had to watch how he almost took you away from me.” He scrubs his eyes furiously with his free hand, not letting go of Kacchan. “I can’t allow more people to suffer because of me.” He’s on his way to a full on breakdown, struggling to get air in his lungs, and blood roaring in his ears, the noises muffled.

Suddenly, Kacchan is hovering over him, shoving his shoulder firmly.

“Hey, Deku, scoot over,” Izuku only glances at him through his crying, baffled. “Give me some room to lay down, like when we were kids.” He’s already in the process of climbing on the bed, and Izuku manages to slide his body closer to the other end, grabbing the bed cover when the weight of his childhood friend laying down almost makes him roll over him. “Jesus Christ, you stink,” Kacchan complains.

“I know,” Izuku turns on his side, creating more space between them. Hygiene wasn’t that high on his list of priorities, not even eating or sleeping was, and he feels awful. He didn’t have the energy to shower before passing out.

“You smell like dirt and sweat.” Kacchan scrunches up his nose. “Worst of all, you reek of that goddamn martyr complex, and it pisses me off.” he turns too, and traps Izuku in his red gaze. “If you’re choosing to ignore all I said before, at least pay attention to the last part.” He’s not sugarcoating his words, he’s as brash as he always is. “We all want to fight, because we’re heroes and we want to protect everyone, including the fucking chosen one, whether you want us to or not. I’m not asking for your damn permission, and neither is any of the rest. So, you can either play nice and make it easy for us, or be a self-sacrificial idiot, making it all the more annoying. Your call.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Izuku grimaces, reaching for him with a shaky hand, and awkwardly squeezes his arm. “I’m not ignoring all you said, Kacchan” he chooses to focus on that, gaze in his All Might covers. “I, I forgave you a long time ago, mostly because I wanted to focus on the good parts, so in a way I let go of it for me.” He forgets about his smell, and scoots closer, resting his forehead close to his shoulder. “But thank you, Katsuki.” He hasn’t said that name in ages, but that doesn’t come from any animosity on his part. Kacchan has always been and will always be Kacchan. Izuku feels him move as Kacchan places his chin on top of his matted curls, and they stay like that for a while, with their past laid to rest at last.

Kacchan speaks up first.

“Listen, Deku, everything is getting pretty fucking real,” he pauses for a moment. “Shit is really dangerous for any of us, but for you it is like a thousand times worse. Your ass is a fucking death magnet, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“One For All is a big responsibility, Kacchan, but it’s not yours.” He does his best to keep his voice low and soft, the weight of the legacy crushing him.

“The Hell is not!” Kacchan retorts vehemently. “You made it my deal the moment you told me!” Izuku winced. “What’s up with that? Wasn't that the biggest secret ever? Are you that much of a blabber mouth?”

Izuku clutches his arm harder.

“I wasn’t going to let you think I lied all those years.” He explains, and in a moment of bravery, he continues. “I’ve never been anything but honest with you, Kacchan.”

The anger in his voice disappears as fast as it came.

“I know that, idiot.” His bigger hand finds Izuku’s hip. “One for All is your responsibility, but you are mine.” Izuku is pretty sure he stops breathing. “Since we were fucking four years old, and you were this quirkless little shit that wouldn’t quit chasing after me, no matter how much I pushed you away.” Kacchan scoffs and his breath tickles him. “Well, congrats, dumbass, now you have me and I’m not going anywhere.” His heart flies to his throat and doesn’t let any word come out. Kacchan growls, clearly bothered by his silence. “All for One VS One For All is the fucking shit show for the ages, and of course you, Deku of all people, have to be right in the middle of that crap.” He talks through clenched teeth, and Izuku longs to soothe him, but there’s nothing he can say to fix the situation. “All those who fell against that fucking maniac and now you have to-” Kacchan chokes up, and punches Izuku on the arm. “Whatever, there's nothing I can do for those nobodies that came before you, but you have an advantage over them.”

“What’s that?” He whispers in a small voice, not believing he is having this conversation in bed with his childhood friend.

“You have me,” Kacchan utters, and Izuku feels like he hit him with an explosion, sweeping his feet from under him. “Just let me set something straight, Deku, I’m not going to be your fucking sidekick, you hear me? You watch my back and I watch yours. I don’t trust anyone to keep up with you.”

I don’t trust anyone else to protect you.

“Kacchan-”

“You deal with this crap once and for fucking all, Deku, and we come up on top.” Kacchan declares, Izuku can hear the smirk in his words, and he has to smile back. “I don’t settle for anything but the best, and taking down fucking evil incarnated, I’m in, Deku, I’m all in.” He disentangles them, leaning back with a vulnerable expression, and offers his hand for Izuku to clasp. “What do you say?”

Izuku wants to say no, push him away from danger and lock him somewhere where he is going to be safe, but he knows Kacchan. He is determined, stubborn to a fault, and braver than anyone he has met. If he sets his mind on protecting Izuku, nothing is going to stop Kacchan, not even him.

That’s why Izuku loves him like he does.

In this space, with just the two of them, Izuku can be honest with himself: He is scared, and he has been for a while.

Scared of not living up to All Might’s hopes.

Scared of never mastering this power.

Scared of letting down all the people that gave up their lives to take down All For One.

Scared of being the wrong choice.

At the end of the day, Midoriya Izuku is terrified of not being enough.

In the midst of all the fear and doubt, he sees Kacchan; the person Izuku admires the most, the hero he has chased since he was four years old, and the driving force behind his progress. Kacchan, who knows all of him, and understands him because he sees Izuku for who he is, all the good and bad parts.

His Kacchan, who is now offering to help him and ease his burden, risking his dream, his precious life in the process, to stay close to Izuku and protect him.

A part of him, the one that imitates All Might, is screaming at him that he has to reject the support, to do it on his own. He should hold the weight of the legacy by himself. However, the other part of him, the one that believes Kacchan is what victory looks like, tells him he isn’t All Might and he doesn’t have to be.

He is Midoriya Izuku, and he is allowed to live his life and fight his battles on his terms, just as Kacchan does.

He clasps his hand, and Kacchan smiles, without a trace of mockery or anger, just plain happiness and relief lifting the corners of his mouth. Izuku hasn't seen him smile like that in years, and he needs to say something. He means to say yes to his offer, maybe thank him, but what comes out instead is:

“I love you.”

The punched out gasp that Kacchan lets out shocks Izuku more than his confession does. He can’t believe the words he has hidden for so long in his heart escaped that easily. More shocking is the fact that he doesn’t want to take it back. Even if he is scared of many things, Kacchan isn’t one of them. Yes, Kacchan frustrates him, he worries him, and makes him nervous, but Izuku is not scared of him, never has been. He can die any day now, any of them can, and he is done with silencing his feelings.

Kacchan is not screaming or scowling, neither he is leaping out of the bed and running away from him, so Izuku would say he is mostly stunned, although he doesn’t see why. His feelings for him are a key part of the person he is. Izuku admires him, cares for him.

Izuku loves him.

“Do you mean it?” The question seems to pain him. He hasn’t released his hand.

“Yes, Kacchan.” Izuku is not hiding it, not anymore.

“After everything?”

The words strike his heart and cut deeply. Izuku doesn’t hold any grudge or resentment, and he can’t tolerate the idea of Kacchan thinking he can feel something for him despite their past.

“Because of everything, Kacchan,” Izuku replies, touching their joined hands with his forehead, shying from the red eyes. “The past doesn’t disappear, but that’s not our present, and definitely not our future.” He takes a deep breath to calm his heart. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t say it to get an answer.”

“Deku, you can do so much better,” Kacchan says, bluntly.

Izuku doesn't let the obvious rejection deter him from speaking with the truth.

“I don’t see how,” he stares at him, mustering a wonky smile. “You are you, Kacchan; you’re brave, honest, loyal, brilliant, and hardworking.” The words spill without filter, and he drinks the sight of his pale skin blushing. “It’s not about doing better, just who I choose, because when it comes down to it, I chose you a long time ago, Kacchan.”

Kacchan tips his head up, the blond strands cloaking his eyes. Izuku refuses to regret coming clean about his feelings, but as the silence grows between them, he starts to fidget. Little by little, he realizes the true weight of his confession, and the bridges he might be burning.

“This doesn’t have to change anything, Kacchan.”

“It changes everything, Deku,” he replies, not missing a beat.

Izuku curses his luck; it was just like him to confess his love right when Kacchan finally came back to him, something Izuku hadn’t dreamt in his wildest dreams. Dealing with these feelings much longer, when they are so powerful and consuming is not possible. Still, he should have tried, for the sake of their friendship.

A callous finger touches his chin, breaking his spiral of thoughts, and lifts his face. The fiery eyes are wide and defenseless, embers instead of the wild inferno Izuku expected.

The first touch of chapped lips is an awakening, and his first kiss is over before he can finish tasting it.

Kacchan leans back, and for the second time in his life, Izuku’s mind goes blank and his body moves on its own, chasing after him. Their second kiss is messy, they don’t have any experience, but Izuku is lost to it. He tries to commit to memory every brush of their lips and ragged gasps, how soft is his blond hair, and the feeling of fingers sinking in his curls, guiding the kiss.

They break apart, but stay close.

"You didn’t have to do that, Kacchan,” he says against his mouth.

“I never do shit I don’t want to do, Deku.”

Izuku grabs him again, bunching up his t-shirt, so full of love that he fears he is going to float away if he doesn’t get a firm grip.

“Deku, I-“ his voice quivers and Izuku kisses him again, softly and reassuringly.

“It’s okay, Kacchan, you don’t have to say anything yet.” Izuku told him because he wanted him to know, but he has had years to come to terms with it. He’s not expecting Kacchan to figure everything out right now.

“You better stick around after that, you damn nerd,” he touches their foreheads together. “Or take me with you. Two options, I’m magnanimous like that.”

Izuku giggles, the sound so foreign after the past weeks.

“Okay, Kacchan, for that I’ll stick around.”

“Or you’ll take me with you.”

Izuku is still terrified of anything happening to him, but he trusts him the most.

“I’ll stick around or take you with me,” he promises, and Kacchan nods satisfied, wrapping Izuku in his arms and hugging him closer. “I thought you said I stink.”

“You fucking do,” Kacchan says immediately. “When I think about this, the first thing that is going to pop into my mind is that my first kiss smelled like a wet dog.”

Izuku laughs until he cries, and Kacchan joins him.

At one point, his back is to Kacchan, and he’s playing with his hands. Izuku’s so relaxed his eyes are drifting close, sleep taking over.

“Hey, Deku,”

“Yes, Kacchan?” he says drowsily.

“You have magnificent taste.”

Izuku snorts, pulling his arm tighter around him.

“I’m going to sleep now,” he murmurs, and he jumps when Kacchan buries his face on the crook of his neck. “Wake me up if something happens.”

“You can trust me, Deku, nobody is going to pass through me.”

Izuku believes him with his entire heart, but he still chooses to only think and not say what crosses his mind before falling asleep in his arms:

I would die before letting anything happen to you.

[timextoxhajima]

The Boyz as things and feelings (just cause)

this is a small thing @haechanhues​ needed help with so i decided to make it an actual post uwu [this is gonna be pretty long cause i might write little scenarios]

[THE BOYZ AS THINGS AND FEELINGS]

SANGYEON - MIRRORS AND PILLOWS

mirrors make a place look bigger than it really is - i feel like sangyeon has that ability to make you feel like you’re more important on your worst days

the things he’ll do just to make sure you’re alright, even when he knows you’re not

he also has the ability to reflect what you need: sad? he’ll come and hug you and let you cry or talk about your shitty day. happy? he’ll joke about the way you snort while laughing then he’d probably do something dumb to keep the energy up there

mirrors also feel very private and at-home, and that exactly how i feel he curates an environment

pillows are self-explanatory ig, smth to cry into, smth to fall asleep with while hugging, has the best homely scents ever, very comfortable

i imagine going home after a long day and finding your partner also tired, but he’s cooking or like in the couch watching tv and he just invites you into his arms uwu

“tell me about everything! whatever that makes you happy or sad and i’ll try my best to be who you need at that point of time!”

JACOB - FLOWERS AND MUSIC

ok like jacob with a guitar is just a stellar sight to behold, he looks like he was born to hold one, and his vocals are super underrated imo, most of tbz’s discography doesnt really suit his voice - i really wish he had a chance to have more lines in more ballads or maybe even a solo thing

he would drag you out to go on walks after he knows you’ve buried yourself in your work the whole day, and he’d be the kind to stop at a pretty flower and contemplate plucking it but he wouldn’t cause he’s a fairy and wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a pretty flower

would probably play a piece in the background while you’re stressed w work and hum a tune so the singing wouldn’t distract you

would stop when he notices you stopped working and your sad ass is probably crying lmao

he’s a very soft and gentle man imo

he’s the innocent daisy amidst other bright colored, flamboyant flowers but he still stands out

“i’ll grow you a rose bush in the yard so i don’t have to be sad about plucking flowers next time.”

YOUNGHOON - WINTER COATS AND COFFEE AND PASTRIES

he definitely radiates tsundere vibes on first sight, but when you get to know him, he’s obviously the opposite: a crybaby

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t keep up his model-like appearances when he’s outside - in fact, he’d be the one to influence you into caring more about how you look (of course not materialistically, but more into actually caring about making yourself feel good with your fashion and appearance)

i chose winter coats as a symbol of coverage - he doesn’t show much of himself unless he’s close to you (like when you wear winter coats to keep warm, he’s a burrito because he doesn’t bother too much about sharing his feelings), but when he does, it feels like he has the ability to keep you warm and comfortable, even on the coldest days, even if his inner savage comes out

it’ll be like he scooped you into his coat and has you warm in one of this inner breast pockets

i see him as the kind to get regular coffee and like, a tart or something, at a cafe. it adds on to the warmth, when he remembers what you like. the details. maybe you like your coffee with cinnamon or less sugar or something, but then he tops it up with a muffin and he knows you like it heated up so he specifically asks for them to do so

ok but he’s defo the kind of guy that catches people’s attention at public spaces so every now and then when he’s laughing or smiling, some girl would gawk at him and he would be embarrassed about it, but lucky for you, you’re already wearing matching coats so they know the man’s taken uwu

“if only they knew how long it took to convince you to wear that coat.”

HYUNJAE - CONCERTS AND CONVENIENCE STORE DATES

classy but calm. dream-like but realistic. 

i say concerts as in the instrumental, ballad kinds. he loves it and he knows you probably need the sleep where you have that kind of background white noise/music that provides you the best quality of sleep there is. but when you’re not dosing off, he’s admiring how much time you’re willing to invest into being at something he loves

of course, in turn, he doesn’t complain much when you’re hungry and you meet him down the street at the nearest convenience store for some instant noodles and potato chips with a coke and he lets you ramble about your day 

he would probably buy you an ice cream just so you’d feel better, then regret it when you get a stomachache later cause it was like 2am in the morning

you probably have like 5 of his hoodies at home that you refuse to wash cause his scent is tainted all over it and the only time he gets to take them home is when he stays over or visits and he sneaks one into his bag when you’re in the kitchen making tea or a bowl of noodles

then you’ll get it back without even knowing it was gone

the kind that would probably surprise you after a day of work with a casual date idea to the movies, and i mean showing up at your place, impromptu, after he knows you’re home with two tickets 

“act like my girlfriend for once and go on a date with me, would you? your work isn’t going to be there with you when you die at 90.”

JUYEON - STARGAZING AND VR GAMES

as dumb and sometimes bimbotic as he seems he is, he’s gotten most of the visible constellations memorised and he would not hesitate from telling you all about his childhood with his family when they would travel and try to spot every single constellation they can remember

which brings me to the point where he remembers what you like, but... backhandedly. he doesn’t remember what you like but he remembers what you hate instead, so you don’t ever have to worry about getting that licorice flavoured jelly bean

he would offer a midnight walk to help you relieve your stress, cause he knows you just like seeing the nightsky amidst the peace and quiet while he rambles on for his own satisfaction. not everything has to be so emotionally attached and shared. you can share blissful moments without being the reason for each other’s and that’s totally fine.

juyeon is kind of a scaredy cat in the sense that he isn’t really into horror movies or games but he’s always had that dream to become a pilot and so for his birthday, you brought him to a vr game arcade where he played some plane simulator and ever since, you’ve been taking turns to surprise each other with a new vr arcade spot or adding on to the vr game console set you have at home

“maybe i should digitalise you so i can see you in the vr game”

KEVIN - KARAOKE SESSIONS AND NEON LIGHTS

the best-friend kind of partner you would come across once in a lifetime

a billion film shots of you after he drags you to the karaoke and he beats you at super intense songs like the bohemian rhapsody just cause he can hit those high notes and solely because he was screaming on the floor when he did it

almost left his film camera behind 

absolutely LOVES those walks along streets where there are a million neon lights

would come across that one sus neon light signs that indicate a sex toy store and he would give you that sly smile and probably joke for you to go in 

kevin has a moon neon light in his room and you have a star or something (whatever you want)

corrects your grammar and pronunciation, only for you two to bicker about it even more when you use google translation and there are different pronunciations depending on where/what accent you’re using

he really is your light in the dark, even if he’s known to be introverted. once he’s comfortable enough with you, he makes you feel like the most important person in the world

has one of those portable speaker microphones at home and he drones on and on and on with some billie eilish song until you hurl a pillow at him

“so you’re the tough girl, like it really rough girl, justcan’tgetenoughofkevingirl, chest always so puffed girl”

CHANHEE - DUETS AND STRAWBERRY PICKING

(i could not find a more candid, softer aesthetic pic for chanhee rip)

his entire wardrobe fits you - the only problem is that he’ll never let you wear it in fear that you’d stain or tear something

shared playlists because that’s how similar your taste in music is, and so sometimes when you have your earpiece in and you’re humming the melody of that song, chanhee picks it up immediately despite not hearing that song, and ends up harmonising with you

got kicked out of the library once or twice because it was exam period and the two of you won’t shut up

ironically doesn’t sing that much if you’re not around

chanhee is a true blue introvert - which is a miracle that you’ve managed to tear through that barrier of his and find out that he giggles at every stupid thing you do: he’s having a bad day? trip over the pavement. he’ll laugh. it works

dragging him out to go strawberry picking was so difficult - but of course chanhee isn’t safe from how beautiful and enticing the fresh fruits were.

didn’t touch anything strawberry flavoured OR any strawberries for the next month or so

his straightforwardness comes with the breakdown of his barrier - but that’s what brings you comfort. he will never lie, he will only be sarcastic and even then, you’d know it’s true

i used duets as a symbol of harmony and being in-sync, though never really exactly the same, and that’s how it is with chanhee. your thoughts are very similar even though he’s much more introverted than you, but that’s what binds you 

“i’m gonna tell the librarian i don’t know you if we get kicked out again.”

CHANGMIN - CITY TOURS AND MATCHING OUTFITS

city tours - the kind that you already know inside out and yet you STILL travel the area as if you were a tourist 

that’s exactly how it is with changmin: you know him inside out, after being friends for so long, but it never gets old

you’re used to him biting your hand out of nowhere and yet it startles you all the time. that stupid chucky doll in his living room? old, but it never fails to scare you

he doesn’t ever talk about it that much, but he loves it when you co-ordinate outfits

no, it doesn’t mean you wear couple tees, but it’s aesthetically pleasing to changmin that if he wears cool tones, you would too

he’d be reserved about his thoughts and feelings sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think or feel them

there’s a strange sense of familiarity with changmin, because you kind of know what to expect but then you’re never disappointed, you know?

“i got you this white pigeon cause it looks like the one i already got... you can give it back to me if you don’t like it though-” /he takes it before you can accept it/

HAKNYEON - STAND UP COMEDY SHOWS AND RUNNING ALONG THE BEACH

there’s something about ju that makes it very casual and easy-going

he hates horror genred themes so fuck that, he would queue online just for the latest ali wong comedy show, even if it’s an online show, and he would laugh until he cried

sometimes he’s a drama queen but that makes it alot easier for you to know what he’s thinking or feeling - it makes communication alot easier

that means a lack of arguments

he’s also very empathetic but straightforward, exactly like how comedy shows are - because they are relatable, they are funny because they bring out the irony and sarcasm and all the dumb things in life that people are sometimes afraid of talking about and hak just says whatever he wants to say, even if he knows it might be hurtful or upsetting

he prioritises truth and honesty over anything else

it makes you a better person, honestly

beach walks - very calming, very liberating. he lets you yell and scream and kick sand back into the water because you can, and he does it with you

tries to teach you how to skip rocks but you suck and you can’t so he just pulls you away from the pile of rocks you amassed

“flick your wrist like that, not like you’re meowing!”

SUNWOO - SOCCER FRIENDLIES AND STUDIO SESSIONS

he will NOT go easy on you in a friendly match: you might be one of the fastest players of the female team but he’s ruthless in his ball-stealing, so even if you were fast enough to keep the ball out of his reach, he’d still be able to snatch it right out between your feet

very, very competitive and does not like to lose

you would always play the ‘ladies first’ card but then he’d throw the ‘feminism’ card back at you 

sometimes you act more like siblings than anything else 

the only time when he isn’t fuming with competition is if you’re injured because he accidentally tackled you - he’ll gracefully give himself a yellow card before absolutely trashing you in the next match

has one foot into the production game recently - likes to play with the beat board and mixing tunes, and since you’ve had your hand in doing music remixes for a deejay job before, you’re there to identify which songs have the same bass line or beat counts for easier mixing

would make you a playlist of remixes but wouldn’t admit that he spent a whole day in the studio without you just so it would be a surprise

a soft boy stuck in the wraps of an egoistic man

“a day? please. i illegally downloaded half these remixes off the internet cause i’d think you’re too internet-dumb to find them.”

ERIC - BAKING AND SKATEBOARDING

full of impromptu, casual ideas to hang out 

baking is a fucking mess - why did he suggest it when he doesn’t even have the right ingredients?

wanted to replace eggs with water - like ok thats supposedly healthier, but why????????????

he likes cleaning so that was the only fucking bonus in baking - had to call his mom for help halfway through because the cookies looked more like goop than playdough

gave up in the end and he repaid his debt by helping clean your kitchen

tried to teach you how to skateboard, but he ended up falling off his own in the process and now he’s got a grazed knee 

the kind of person you’d have so much chaotic fun with, he’s that friend your mom told you to NOT hang out with that much if not you’d get run down by a car 

has the most fucking random pieces of clothing in his wardrobe, like where did he even get that pink coat from?

“no you have to do this and like lift up your leg and then kinda rest your weight on it before flicking your ankle and like- whOA- OH OW OHNO OHOHOH OW”

[ushidoux]

Heyyyy how are you? You know what, I'm re-watching Haikyuu and whenever I see Wakatoshi, my brain just went: "🥵😍❤️💦"

Like, he's so fine! The epitome of virile man who reeks dominance. 😭 I can't wait for the timeskip!Wakatoshi 😭😭😭 have you imagine how would he just pound into you after a big match, with him still full of adrenaline? And you're just waiting in your bedroom with a toy stuck up in your 🐱?

When he found you using that toy, he'll be super annoyed and said: "I won't do anything since you love that toy way too much. Let's see of you can come."

IMMA FROTH 🤤🥴

I need to watch season 3 again, also I got WAY too excited with this prompt. Sorry it took so long!!!

@xiao-yu-tan​

TW: nsfw, use of toys, DDLG dynamics (briefly), ~1.2k words

---

“Well then,” you murmured to yourself, as you unwrapped the sparingly labeled box that had been sitting just outside of your apartment door to pull out an unexpectedly large, purple vibrator. You hadn’t quite anticipated the size when you’d ordered it online in the middle of the night last week, and now gripping it in your palm, you inspected it with a mild concern furrowing your eyebrows. 

On further evaluation, while you were sure the toy was bigger than the average penis you were sure, it wasn’t quite as big as your partner. Yet, while Ushiijima could still have you screaming stretched over his cock, even he couldn’t vibrate at three speeds and while overstimulation was always a concern, mechanical malfunctions weren’t.

Fortunately, your concerns turned out to be for naught because, knowing your boyfriend would likely be home late, you took extra time to get comfortable with its use, for when he would inevitably be gone for long periods of time and you got anxious for him.

You even found that it was slightly easier to slide the contraption in; as wet as you could get for your Toshi, still he was just too damn big sometimes.

You were more than halfway to your climax when your boyfriend all but burst through the bedroom door, his eyes immediately scanning the room for you, only to find you flat on your back, whimpering softly as you thrust the toy in and out of your cunt, eyes closed.

He stood there for more than a couple moments, taking your lewd expression in from this new vantage point. He had come in excited to see you, spirits still high from a won match, and ready to expend all remaining energy holding you in his arms and seeing just how many orgasms he could squeeze out of you in a second wind.

But instead, here you were, pleasuring yourself without him. How selfish.

He was growing hard in his shorts, after all, seeing that toy sink and disappear inside you, and he didn’t want to be ignored.

“Babe?” He called out.

Slightly startled but semi-dipped in the haze of lustful pleasure, your eyes slid over to him, and you smiled softly.

“H-how was the match babe?”

You made a motion to shift up, the vibrator still pulsing inside you, and the angle must have hit just the spot that made you see fireworks, because you let out a high moan, back arching automatically as your eyes squeezed shut. 

You didn’t spot it, but Ushijima’s nose wrinkled with a mild irritation.

“You seem to like that toy quite a bit,” he said, approaching as you attempted to recover from the excess stimulation. As he made his way over, he was already peeling off his uniform, freeing his heavy and hard cock to present itself to you as a comparison. 

He settled beside you, watching you still shudder at the quickly working vibrator, one large hand running against your shoulders, and the other fisting his length in his hand.

“It seems a little… small,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck in a way that had your another extra chill running up your spine, “but I suppose if it does its job...?”

He let out a loud sigh, leaning back into the backboard, fingers tapping against your jawline before his thumb found its way in your mouth. As your lips closed around his fingers, you realized you didn’t want the toy anymore, you wanted him, but now he wasn’t even looking at you, instead at the mirror placed strategically just across from your California King bed, where he could see you, breasts pert and nipples hard, body splayed with a flash of purple in between your legs, and him, much larger than you with cock hard and expression mildly amused side by side.

“T-Toshi, can we…,” your voice trailed off with another whimper.

“You seem to be well taken care of,” he mused, sharply withdrawing the fingers he’d pressed into your mouth, causing you to whine.

“Never mind… I want you...”

“I think I’m able to take care of myself just fine as well,” he teased, fingers now idly in your hair as he pumped himself faster.

“Toshi, please,” you murmured, now reaching for the vibe, but he was faster than you, keeping it steady inside your cunt and angling it further against your anterior vaginal wall making you want to tap out from the runs of pleasure going through you.

“You want that instead of my cock, don’t you?” He teased, moving the toy now in and out of you. “Much, much better than me, right?”

“N-no, baby, I want you instead!”

Ushijima’s lips spread into a wider, almost sadistic smile, his hand letting go of the toy inside you to massage a breast before planting a kiss on your neck.

“You sure, princess? You think you can still fit around me? I think the vibrator is better suited for your tight little pussy,” he murmured into your ear, forcing another wash of heat through you, much more intense than the toy was providing you.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt my sweet baby, you know.”

“P-please, I want your cock, Toshi…”

Again any attempts to reach for the vibrator were prevented by him, and now he went so far as to catch both of your wrists in one hand before kissing you full on the lips. 

“None for you today, princess. Greedy little girls don’t get double helpings.”

“Please!” Your voice came out as a strangled cry, and Ushijima responded by patting the front of your pelvis softly, then sliding downwards with both hands to pry your thighs open with fingers nestled on your inner thighs.

In response to your pleas, you got softer kisses in the space between but no replacement of the vibrator with his cock inside you.

He was having fun with this, seeing you writhe for some sort of friction, tired of clit stimulation only and wanting to be filled by him instead. His firm grip kept your thighs open and flat against the bed as you tried to close around him and thrust up to him for some sort of relief.

You were now frustrated enough, soft grunts and whines entertaining him and finally, he decided he had enough of teasing you, slowly pulling the vibe off and tossing it aside before repositioning himself before you in a kneeling position, resting back on his heels. His head tilted ever so slightly to his left, his smirk slightly patronizing but loving.

“How can I say no to you when you’re so cute and needy?” He murmured.

You reached your arms for him wordlessly, endlessly thankful for the mercy but quietly so, and he raised you up with a steady hold on your waist so that you, prepped beyond compare, could finally glide not effortlessly, but seamlessly onto his cock.

The familiar, too full feeling slowly pushed the air out of your lungs, but holding onto him, wrapping your arms tightly around his broad shoulders and enduring as he bottomed out into your exclusive little cave, was still the best pleasure for you. As he thrust you upwards in this upright position, savoring the little hitches in your breath and the digging of your nails in the skin of his back, he pressed his head in the crook of your neck.

A toy could never fuck you like he did, but as long as you were aware of that fact, he was glad he had a little bit of something to spice up his time with you.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 14: Loss

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Loss Rated: T (Presumed Major Character Death) Based on the trailer for the upcoming Gotham Knights game: https://youtu.be/IhVf_3TeTQE (TW: flashing images towards the end of the trailer)

Jason is walking home on a rainy night in Gotham after a long day working with Roy.  He was hoping to quickly get back home to his girlfriend and relax for a few days. He felt his phone vibrate, he took it out from his pocket to see it was a call from Batman. The words “Incoming Transmission: Code Black” were written boldly across his screen. Jason had a bad feeling about this. He walked into a nearby alley and looked around to see if he was truly alone before taking this urgent call.

He was unsure whether to pick up the call or not, his relationship with Bruce had been strained ever since he was killed by the Joker and came back as the Red Hood. Even if they had reconciled, they still argued and disagreed with one another.  This was probably him asking if he was willing to go undercover again like he had done with Black Mask.  He continued to stare at the phone, thinking of all the possible reasons that Bruce may have wanted to call him. “What is Code Black?” He thought to himself as he answered the call.

His phone sparks to life with the image of Bruce, Jason immediately knew something was wrong. Bruce never showed his face in any Bat related communication. “If you’re watching this, I’m dead.” Jason could not believe what he was seeing, he barely registers the rest of the message. Thinking back to how he first met Batman, trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile. To him, Batman was invincible, invisible and unstoppable. After all his training as Robin and even after his return as Red Hood, a small piece of him had felt that Batman could not be beaten. He had watched Batman face aliens from outer space and gods from another world. Knowing that Batman was well and truly gone felt...impossible.

He slowly trudges home, his vision blurs as he slowly makes it home on autopilot. He enters his apartment, not even taking his wet clothes or shoes off. Marinette hears him walk in, “Welcome home Jay, I made boeuf bourguignon.” Jason doesn’t even notice her, and in that moment she knew something wasn’t quite right. Normally Jason would joke about how it was a miracle nothing was burning, it could happen, given how clumsy Marinette was.  He slowly drags his feet to the living room and slumps on the sofa, his head in his hands. Marinette peeks her head around the corner, looking visibly concerned.  

Marinette slowly walked to the sofa and sat next to Jason, putting a hand on his thigh. “Jay?” she quietly asked.

Jason’s voice begins to crack “He’s gone, I can’t believe it, he's really gone.” He lifts his head up to look Marinette dead in the eye, “Mari, Bruce is gone.”

Marinette gasps, she had heard the news report but she didn’t think it was true.  She had assumed it was the start of an elaborate ruse, but the look in Jason’s eyes told her otherwise.  Marinette knew Jason and Bruce’s relationship was complicated, but he was visibly hurt and shocked by the news.  Jason wanted a lot of things, he never really wanted Bruce to die, not like this anyway. If that were the case he would have gone through with his plan of blowing up the Batmobile, all those years ago.  Marinette reached up to gently wipe a tear from his face, he held her hand close to his face before she could pull it away.  It was the first of many that would be shed at that moment.

For so many years, before and after he died, Jason wanted Bruce to understand him.  He seemed like a pointy-eared brick wall at times, he never thought there would come a day when it would fall.  Batman had almost seemed untouchable, even when Bane broke his back, he came back stronger than any of them.  Marinette gave a startled little squeak as he pulled her close to him, before wrapping her arms around him. He pulled away slightly but her face was still very close to his, he ran his thumb along her cheek as she leaned into his touch.  He savoured the warm softness beneath his fingertips.  His teary eyes looked into hers for a moment, before he leaned in close to kiss her.  At that moment, he needed to feel the warmth that radiated off of her.  He needed to hold her close to him, he needed to know that she was really there, and not just a cruel fleeting dream.  

Marinette was surprised, in the years that she had known him this wasn't a side of Jason that she had seen before.  There was a feeling of desperation in that kiss, one that only Marinette was privy to.  Whenever Jason kissed her in the past, sometimes it was passion, sometimes with a gentle softness, and other times because he took a certain delight in making her blush.  This time there was passion, but almost never with the desperation and anguish he felt at that very moment.  By contrast, Marinette was a lot more trusting, more forgiving, more optimistic.  It was something that Jason didn’t take lightly, especially considering the person he was by comparison.  With the Kwamis' help, she had seen him through his bouts of pit madness.  Nevertheless, when the kiss broke, she was breathless for a moment, but she didn't pull away.   She rested her forehead against his, brushing aside the occasional tear from his eyes.

For the rest of the night Jason continued to hold Marinette close to him, his chest heaved with sobs every so often. Even with his complicated relationship with Bruce, he was still the one who adopted, taught and cared for this street urchin of Gotham. As the two held each other, Jason’s phone began to ring, displaying Nightwing’s blue bird symbol on screen. Jason took out the phone and looked to see who was calling. He stared at the screen, unsure how to talk to Dick after the loss of Bruce. He looks back to Marinette, ”answer it” she told him with a gentle smile, he needs to be with his family now.

Jason took a deep breath and answered “Hello?”

He could hear Dick’s voice, unusually hoarse on the other end “Hey Little Wing, you saw the message didn’t you?”

Jason solemnly responded “Yeah. I got his message.”

“We need you Jason, just as Bruce said, Gotham needs its guardians. We’re all here at the Belfry. Babs, Tim, Steph, even Duke and Cass. Are you with us?” asked Dick.

Jason looks back to Marinette, who then nodded to him with a smile and mouthed “Go.”

He turns back to the phone, “I’ll be there in an hour, Ladybug can handle things here”.

As he ends the call and stands up from the sofa, Marinette puts a hand to his chest and lifts a finger, signaling to wait just a moment before running to the bedroom. She returns with two wrapped presents, “They were meant for your birthday next month, but...I think you need it now more than ever.”

She places the two boxes next to Jason, and asks him to open them up. Jason picks up the first box, slowly unwrapping to reveal new body armour. His eyes widen, he runs a hand across the large red bat symbol on its chest.

“Mr. Fox and I worked on this for you, he may be an excellent inventor but he lacks a tailor’s touch.” she explained. Taking out a cue card from the gift box, Marinette clears her throat and begins reading from it. “The tri-weave bodysuit consists of an outer and inner layer made from a titanium-dipped tri-weave fiber mesh.”  Marinette tried to read the words with some confidence, despite the fact that English was her second language. She wasn’t even sure if English speakers understood what these words meant. “Sandwiched in between is the MR-fluid based liquid armor system. The proprietary WayneTech Smart MR-fluid hardens in response to impacts, specifically designed to provide superior shock absorption.” As she read the cue card, Marinette thought working these materials into the design was challenging enough, never mind having to list out what they were for.  Still, not everyone had her magical super suit, so she never really thought about how a normal human would have to shield themselves.  Judging by the smile growing on Jason’s face, clearly she was reading some things right. “The liquid body armor layer is also more flexible than the ceramic or fiber-based armour, allowing for greater maneuverability.”  Marinette took a breath and gently placed the cue card back into the box, “I hope you understood those words, because I didn’t” she joked, and for the first time since he’d come home she saw Jason smile. “I also modelled it after your favourite hoodie for maximum comfort.” Saying the last two with emphasis as if it was the most important thing when it came to armour.

Jason chuckles, “This is perfect Pixie, thank you.” As he stands up to give her a hug, she stops him and gestures to the other gift. As he opens the second box he sees within a new Red Hood helmet. “Same materials as your suit. Light, breathable and comfortable.”

Jason picks up the new helmet and begins inspecting it from all angles. He is curious about the black embellishments around the vision slits of the helmet. “Hey Pixie, what's with the dark eye rings?” he asks, turning his head to face her.

She gives him a wink “Red Hood with a pinch of Ladybug.”

Jason places the helmet down and goes to the bedroom to change into his new armour.  Tikki zooms over and both of them give each other a firm nod. If Jason was putting his trust in Marinette to hold the fort here, there was no way she was going to let him down.

[softcallofdutyimagines]

An oddly specific hc:

Weaver, Mason, Woods, Adler, and Hudson with an S/O who likes to give+recieve cuddles. (Guess whose love language is physical touch? Is me.)

DJDJDJSJ LITERALLY ALL OF MY HUSBANDS IN ONE ASK !!!! You know, love languages for the squad might be an interesting one, one day! I feel you tho, mine is words of affirmation but physical touch is a super close second 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Phew I went kind of all in on these, so sorry of they're really long or rambly, but I hope you enjoy them!! Weaver and Woods even feature a little dad bod action bc ik that's our thing 😌😌💅🏻

Adler

Honestly, at first he's not use to it

In fact, you'd be forgiven to think he didn't like it at all

However, he never shuts you down either...

If you persevere for long enough and are able to gain his trust, you'll be rewarded to find that he actually quite enjoys your touch

Well, more then enjoys I'd say

Adlers job is a lonely and thankless one, and although he could hardly bring himself to admit as much...

The loneliness takes a toll on him

He is only interested in receiving that kind of affection from someone he has a connection with, so as you can imagine, it's harm for him to get that need fulfilled without you

In a way, he grows rather addicted to you

You're the first thing he goes for when he comes home after time away

All in all, he's down for whatever you've got to give, but his favorite thing to do is to hold you

Whether that be while cuddled up and or just standing in place, it doesn't matter to him

In turn, he particularly likes when you stroke his jawline or pepper him with kisses

He's very sensitive about his face and scars as you know, doubly so after the torture and rescue stuff he went through

So when you show extra affection to that spot, not only is it a huge sign of his trust in you, but it also just so happens to make him melt

Hudson

Hudson is an extremely similar case to Adler in that, although you wouldn't guess it, he craves physical touch

In fact, Hudson might be even worse off

I would argue that at least Adler works with his task force members, but Hudson???

He's more or less forced to stick to the shadows and only speak to others on a more or less need to know basis

Given that cannon Hudson has a whole wife and kids, I get the feeling that he just wants to be loved damn it!!!

So all this to say that, unlike Adler, I don't think Hudson would be even remotely as coy with his desire for affection

I mean, if you've managed to snag a relationship with him, he must trust you a whole lot already, so why not just clear the air, right?

However, I will say that I think he might be a little shy about it

What if he comes across as too needy or something? Not a good look for a grown man, surely

As a result, if he has nothing more pressing to attend to, he'll be your shadow around the house all day long, from one room to the next

Of course, he does his best to not follow you step for step or do anything else that would obviously give him away, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he wants

You'll have to invite him to come to you most of the time

And good thing too, bc when he's with you, it's like heaven

He's fond of simply collapsing into your lap when your seated, or across your torso when laying down

From there, you can do whatever you want

If you really wanted, you could balance a damn book on his back and just read in silence for all he cares

As long as he can have that physical connection to you, it doesn't matter

This is another area where he's a step up in extreme from Adler

While Adler wants you, Hudson needs you

You're like his one place of rest in the whole world, the only place he can be safe and forget about his work, and you have no idea how much that means to him

Mason

Personally, I think Alex is probably the one most (relatively lmao) well adjusted adult of the group

He of course loves receiving physical affection from you, but he doesn't need to rely on it as some sort of coping mechanism

While he can be a little clingy, its a usually only after times that he has to be away for a long while

Personally, I feel like Alex is the safest for me to say that he probably also has physical touch as his love language as well!

He will often come seek you out just as much as you so for him, and he has no problem requesting some snuggle time

Mason is perfectly confident in his masculinity after all, so asking if you wouldn't mind cuddling him is a simple task in his eyes

The height of his interest in touch comes when he's trying to sleep though

He's prone to pretty awful night terrors given all that he's been through, so I'd say that's the only real time that he truly does rely on you and your gift

Even if it's just something as small as holding his hand while you lay next to him, any little bit helps

He definitely notices more difficulty sleeping when you're not around, so he's thankful for you for sure

Mason is also pretty big on pda I think lol

Like holding hands, hugging, and kissing...

None of that bothers him!

Although he enjoys nearly all forms of touch from you, he'd have to admit that he loves it the most even you run his back or hold his hands

It's... Comforting

Weaver

Off, poor Weaver, he's a mess

Imagine someone who burns with an all consuming desire just to be touched damn it !!! like Hudson does, and yet has ten times the reservations and insecurities about it as Adler does

That's close to what Weaver is like

He's extremely shy around you, just to start off

In fact, he's probably still star struck that you actually wanted to be in a relationship with him in the first place

And so, he's not sure how to act...

He really is a big softie on the inside, and yet he's not sure if you'd like that

After all, he's the big, tough Russian guy to everyone else

That's who you met, so it would make sense that that's what you want, right?

While Hudson would warm up after a while and, albeit awkwardly I'm sure, ask you for some cuddling time or some such...

... Weaver almost never asks, but will instead make it painfully obvious that he wants it lol

It definitely does not help that he's quite insecure with his appearance

These days, he's a just a touch more soft and round then he use to be, and that's on top of his missing eye and greying hair

If you are of the opinion that such things only make him more suited for cuddling, warm and comfy as he is, it will take him an awful long time to believe you

Buuuuuuut...

Although he loves to pretend he only tolerates his at best, he does rather enjoy it when you give his chest or tummy some affection

It's sort of like Adler and his scars: Weaver loathes the state of his abdomen, amongst other things, but he must admit...

He likes that you like it

Woods

Geez, Woods is probably as opposite from Weaver as it gets

I once heard the phrase "a dog in human form", and honestly?

It doesn't get more accurate then that

This man lives for attention and the fact that you want to give it to him, drives him crazy

He's pretty shameless, and is down to be touched or felt basically whenever

It's to the point that he's taken up walking around the house shirtless just in anticipation of any cuddling or rubs to be had

He's a bit performative about it, which can be either entertaining or annoying depending, but he never misses an opportunity to show off his muscles to you and let you have a feel

Really though, anywhere you want to touch, however you want to do it, go ahead baby! He'll eat it up lmao

Of course, if you catch him at a time in his life where he's going the route of Weaver and developing some dad bod...

Totally different story

If that's the case, he's extremely adverse to letting you touch places like his thighs, chest, and of course his stomach

Really, just anywhere that's filled out

Which in his mind, could very well extend to his body as a whole

Needless to say, this creates a very powerful inner turmoil between his desire to be near to you and impress you, and his fear of rejection

With this Woods, it'll take a loooot of gentle touches and reasurace to bring him around

But once he trusts you, he's be right back to how toned Woods would act

Bare chested, tummy out, and ready for some lovin 😌

[grittyreadsfic]

hello my friends, one singular person asked for this weeks ago so i’m here with my most unhinged rec list yet: tk and nolan.

now, this one was hard to reign in, so i really didn’t. this pairing had maybe 230 fics in the tag when i first started reading hockey fic, and it’s now over 900, and i’ve read far too many of them, and that makes it so hard to parse it down. so i just...didn't!

so with that said, please enjoy so you want to get into tknp: a beginners guide to a classic case of idiots to lovers

i told myself that i couldn’t rec an author’s entire body of work but then i remembered this is my blog and i do what i want, so i did some consolidating. here’s a list of the quintessential authors for this pairing, you can start at any of their profiles and pick any of their fics at random, and it’ll be one of the best ones for the pairing, hands down.

therainbowsedge: i’d start with the summer camp fic, or the sex toys one, as both beautifully capture the true idiots to lovers nature of this pairing, but just top tier writing all around

manybumblebees: the wedding fic is so tender and port stanley is a classic, but literally pick any single fic and you’ll have a perfect tknp fic. i’m not kidding

jamesvanriemsdick: their tknp fics in their series are some of the hidden gems of this pairing (the tk heartbeat fic makes me LOSE it) but the delaware fic or the seattle fic…..there’s really something for every mood

catchascatchcan: start with era of gods because i could write literal essays on how it’s some of the best fantasy worldbuilding i’ve ever read, but then just read everything else on their account, including non tknp fics. you won’t regret it

hackysack: ao3 user hackysack has written one of two timeloop fics that i absolutely adore, and i thought about just calling that one out in particular, but all of their work deserves the attention

canary: nothing to prove was the first tknp fic i ever read and i was immediately hooked. all of their fics are a good starting place for the pairing, and just really give you a feeling for the pairing

and now, for the fic recs!

to be, despite it all by smudgedfreckles

summary: or, nolan patrick’s gender thesis, by travis konecny.

why i love it: there’s not a lot ofo nonbinary characters in media, even in fic, but this fic’s treatment of nolan and their path to figuring out their gender just feels so real and made me feel so seen. tk’s characterization is also just top notch, and it’s just a super sweet story about two people who love each other

last ones standing by makeit_takeit

summary: If you’re committed to finding your future spouse, reads the last line of the ad, and are ready to look at yourself and your love life in a whole new way, apply now.

At the bottom of the ad there’s a link, and Travis finds his finger hovering over the screen, lip still caught between his teeth.

“I mean,” he says very reasonably, speaking out loud to his empty apartment like some sort of possibly-crazy person, “just applying doesn’t mean anything. Maybe I just fill it out, and see what happens. It’s not like I’m really gonna get picked to be on TV, come on.”

He snorts out loud, just to show his apartment he hasn’t lost his grip on reality or anything; he fully understands how ludicrous that would be.

Then he clicks the link anyway, because yolo or whatever.

why i love it: what part of a married at first sight fic doesn’t make you want to immediately dive right in? the concept is fun, the execution is absolutely flawless, and it captures their dynamic so well while letting it develop naturally

motivation by connectknee

summary: Kevin knows when to back off, the article said. He knows just when to shut up and leave Patty alone, something Travis has never known how to do.

why i love it: the thing i love about this pairing is that tk is loud and in your face, and nolan’s more reserved, a little quieter, a little harder to read. this fic does a really great job of exploring how tk could feel like maybe he’s just a bit too much and is one of my favorites in terms of miscommunication

a tenderness grows by rusesdeguerre

summary: Nolan wouldn’t say that landing a job as the Philadelphia Flyers’ psychotic and probably clinically insane mascot was a childhood dream of his. Maybe tangentially: playing pond hockey in –30°C weather and pretending to be Sidney Crosby is practically a rite of passage when you grow up in Manitoba. That, and experiencing the distinct displeasure that is thousands of mosquitoes sucking your blood out when your father drags you on a father-son camping trip into the backwoods of the northern Canadian Prairies.

why i love it: this was the first fic i recced on this blog, and i stand by that decision. a fic where nolan is not only not a hockey player, but is in fact the person in the gritty suit? absolutely perfect, and so charming from start to finish

meet me at my window by springsteen

summary: Travis has lived in Philadelphia for a few years now, long enough to know there isn’t a major city in America where superheroes don’t destroy an entire city block trying to save humanity or whatever. He can deal with all the super-shit, but Travis did not sign up for getting woken up from a deep sleep because some fucker’s trying to break in through his window.

(5 times the super-villain known as "The Cat" breaks into Travis's apartment, plus 1 time Travis invites him in.)

why i love it: there’s a lot of things to love here, but the concept is just absolutely one of my all time favorite aus ever. it’s fun and charming and the perfect glimpse into a world where heroes and villains exist, and what it’s like just to be a run of the mill kind of guy existing in it. tk and nolan’s back and forth in this make it so engaging, and it’s such a top tier fic

body’s in trouble by cloudsandpassingevents

summary: “Oh, sorry,” someone says. “Didn’t know anyone else was here.”

Nolan freezes, then turns around very slowly. When he looks up, Nicklas fucking Backstrom is standing behind him in a hoodie and baggy sweats, holding the biggest bag of Swedish Fish Nolan’s ever seen in his life in one hand.

“Uh,” Nolan says around the pop tart between his teeth. “Yeah.”

What the fuck, his brain helpfully supplies.

why i love it: from nolan’s inner voice, to the way the author explores all the dynamics within the team, to the way they write the unexpected but actually, it kind of makes sense friendship between nolan and backstrom, is just absolutely fantastic. there’s a lot of moments that circle back and build on each other in a way that really just makes it super compelling

rhizomatic foundations by lighthousetowers

summary: Twenty days after he moves in with Kevin Hayes, twenty days – three months, five months, depending on how you look at it – after not talking to TK, TK shows up at the front door with a plant the size of a basketball in his hands.

TK grins. "Patty, meet Reginald." He lifts up the plant. "Reggie, meet Patty. He's going to be your new - caretaker."

"What the fuck," says Nolan, not moving a single muscle.

Or: That Nolan can hear the plant talk might as well just happen.

why i love it: this is probably my favorite magical realism fic just about ever. it’s fun and charming and a little weird, but in the best possible way. there’s such a wonderful narrative in it, and lighthousetowers always has such beautiful writing, and it really shines in this one. the dialogue and nolan’s characterization are also part of what set it apart for me as one of the best tknp fics

in the dark of any town by mengetpegged

summary: If the voice has an accent at all, it’s a flat prairie Canadian, with none of G’s French-Canadian softness at the edges. But mostly, the accent is just ‘pissed off,’ which TK believes is a default setting for ghosts.

“Who are you?” TK asks, and he doesn’t like how strained his voice sounds, doesn’t like the tinge of anxiety tinting the rise of his question. He tries to regulate his breaths—in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth—but it feels like he’s not getting enough oxygen, which makes him panic even more.

“Someone with a fucking migraine, dickhead,” the voice says. “So keep the lights off and shut the hell up.”

(or: Nolan Patrick, Hotel X Ghost)

why i love it: i’m usually not super into ghost fics, both the spooky kind and the nonspooky kind, but this one is a rare exception. it’s charming and fun and tender and it’s got some of, in my opinion, the best characterization of tk and nolan in any fic. the way the author writes their dynamic and their dialogue is just unmatched

lets_make_this_moment_a_crime.mp3 by honeydripping

summary: Travis meets Nolan at a Midtown show in 2002 when he punches Nolan in the face. He can’t help it, “Like A Movie” just goes off.

But he does feel guilty about it.

or

TK and Patty work at a bakery together. They go to punk shows to pass the time.

why i love it: idk if anyone asked for an early 2000s emo/punk/alt au but wow! i sure am glad it exists! really the vibes of this fic, as silly as that sounds, are absolutely unmatched. i love the structure with the music, the development of their relationship, and just everything about how the author wrote the setting (there’s this whole thing with tattoos in it that makes me feel absolutely insane)

you’re ripped at every edge by you’re a masterpiece by conformityissuicide

summary: “Ugh, look, this yoga teacher has it out for me, man. And I can’t go back there without at least having some of the basics down. I’ve got to win this battle.”

“Yoga isn’t really something you win at,” Hartsy starts.

Travis cuts him off, “You can win at anything if you try hard enough.”

+++

OR that time Nolan's a grumpy yoga teacher and Travis realizes he wants to bone him and prove him wrong about Travis' non-existent yoga abilities.

why i love it: listen, if you want tknp, at least one of them has to be an idiot, and this tk absolutely captures the obliviousness i love to see in him in fic. it’s such a great characterization of them both and such a great concept (and even better execution)

you form a terror pack (and i’m aware of that) by dalmatienne

summary: “Can I help you?” TK snarks, both eyebrows hiked up in a way that has earned her many elbow checks to the ribs.

The chick looks down her nose, long thick eyelashes fluttering. Red-bitten lips part to blow a florid pink bubble and TK can smell the chemical sweetness when it pops.

“Yeah,” she says in this monotonous voice that seems almost at odds with her bubble gum and neon skates. She jams her stopper into TK’s thigh again, literally inches away from where it’d really hurt. “Tie ‘em.”

why i love it: to be honest, i generally don’t read rule 63 within hrpf, but this one is just absolutely knocks it out of the park. the concept (i fuckin’ love roller derby), the characterization of nolan, the pacing, the rituals, the tone of the entire fic, it’s just all around a perfect read from start to finish

thrills and grills by bitter_leaf

summary: Travis can’t even begin to wonder what he did in a previous life to incur the wrath of this fucking cook. Travis thinks he’s a nice person, doesn’t conduct himself in any way that could be considered particularly dickish, and unless this guy has some sort of issue with hockey bros or people from the boonies, he’s not sure how he started shit without even knowing.

__

Patty has a vendetta. Travis just wants to eat his eggs in peace.

why i love it: honestly this is the enemies to lovers fic i’ve been waiting for. i remember seeing the reddit post when it first went viral and thinking it would make such a great fic premise, so stumbling across this one was just so wonderful. super engaging and fun and so hilarious to read!

nothing but room for you by fightingfuries

summary: When his agent tells him he’s going to be traded to the Devils, Nolan isn't sure how he feels about it. Might be easier if he was going somewhere farther away, like California or fucking Florida. Somewhere sun-soaked and foreign. Someplace so different from Philadelphia that he can forget he ever played for the Flyers, forget everything that happened there.

Or Nolan fucks up, gets traded, gets his shit together and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

why i love it: i cannot stress to you how much i love trade fics, and this one is one of my absolute favorites. the trade to the devils-so close to philly, still, but there’s more to distance than physical miles-was such an excellent choice and the split timeline adds so much to the narrative, and the emotions are real and messy and complicated in the best way

a couple of runaways (i’m glad you stayed) by overturnedgoal

summary: The person in the video he’s watching is super annoying. Some obnoxious holier than thou granola type who keeps talking about their environmental impact as if they aren’t driving a gas guzzler around, but the basic idea of living in a van, driving around wherever, camping all the time, just going hiking and swimming and seeing the whole country? It sounds pretty dope, honestly.

why i love it: i like to watch tours and conversions of vans/buses into tiny homes as a self soothing method, and this fic has the same impact that watching those do. it’s such a fun concept, and it’s so fuckin’ soft, and the dialouge between tk and nolan is just *chef’s kiss*

all candor and style in the crook of your smile by p3trichor

summary: It’s a photo of Nolan on his knees with someones’ fingers in his mouth, lips slick with spit. Travis flicks by it almost too fast and he’s only got seconds to decide if he wants to screenshot it, if he wants to just give up the ghost right then and there. Except Travis’s phone freezes momentarily and then the group refreshes, sidcros87, Bert59 and 14 others took a screenshot!

It’s gone before Travis even has time to process it and he already wasted his replay of the day on a stupid video of a stupid fish that Hayes caught.

Can you send me that screenshot Travis texts Bertuzzi before he can overthink it, his dick already stirring in his sweats. Tuzzi sends back the cry-laughing emoji and then the screenshot before Travis can be too annoyed at him.

Or, Nolan is being weird about Travis's break-up and TK is maybe not straight.

why i love it: i genuinely don’t think i have words for the amount i love this fic. it took me forever to actually read, but it’s absolutely one of my favorite fics, and it’s an absolutely riot to read. carter’s meddling and the presence of tyler bertuzzi both make it extra fun, in my humble opinion

[helgabatwrittings]

When your world comes crashing down don't cry

Chapter 2: Running

AO3

He glanced once again at Adrien, who was still staring right ahead, frozen in some kind of spell that has been affecting him for almost a week now. He wasn’t even writing down anything, in his somehow simultaneously messy and tidy notes. And Adrien always participated in Physics class. He would bounce his leg in excitement while quickly solving all the different problems assigned to them, making Nino wonder, more than once, if he was one of those genius kids he sometimes read about on the internet. But now? He was just staring, the only sign of life from him were the occasional trembling sighs and the subtle shakiness of his hands.

Nino was absolutely certain that something was going on with his best friend. If he were to describe the major shift in Adrien’s behaviour from last week to this one in just one word, he would choose the word “slow”. Everything Adrien did now was slower than anything he had seen from the boy. The way he would take a couple of seconds to answer whatever Nino asked him, how he would trail behind him and the girls when they walked together through the halls of the school, the time Adrien took to look him in the eyes as if he was gathering the courage to do so.

Something was wrong and Nino, no matter how hard he tried, didn’t seem to be going anywhere in finding out what… in trying to help his best friend…

His leg was bouncing up and down, both in frustration and anxiety. Something was very wrong with Adrien, and he kept pretending he was fine! Even now, when Adrien was clearly pretending to be paying attention to class, Nino could tell that he was nowhere near that classroom. Heck! Even Miss Mendeleiev could tell it by the worried and subtle glances she kept throwing at Adrien. So yeah, this was serious if even Miss Mendeleiev was concerned.

The class was silent, except for the occasional whispers that could be heard, it was usually quiet, due to the strict style Miss Mendeleiev loved to adopt, so it’s not like anything was out of place. Nino looked around. Kim was subtlety passing a note to Alix who sat in front of him, while Max kept writing down the Gravity formulas that were on the blackboard. Rose and Juleka were quietly whispering between them, shy blushes and soft giggles could be observed if one was attentive enough. Nathaniel kept his head bowed down, probably drawing some doodles for his comic.

Nino looked behind him, noticing that Marinette’s eyes were completely fixed at the back of his bro’s head, her face twisted with the same concerned frown Nino was probably sporting as well. Alya noticed him staring and smiled adoringly at him to which he answered with a smile of his own.

He glanced once again at Adrien, who was still staring right ahead, frozen in some kind of spell that has been affecting him for almost a week now. He wasn’t even writing down anything, in his somehow simultaneously messy and tidy notes. And Adrien always participated in Physics class. He would bounce his leg in excitement while quickly solving all the different problems assigned to them, making Nino wonder, more than once, if he was one of those genius kids he sometimes read about on the internet. But now? He was just staring, the only sign of life from him were the occasional trembling sighs and the subtle shakiness of his hands.

Like he had read Nino’s mind, Adrien finally moved his head, looking down at his hands, and quickly shoved them under the desk.

Nino knew that this lesson was of extreme importance for their test next week. He knew that, and he also knew that unlike the blond sitting right beside him, he sucked at physics, so he really should be absorbing every piece of wisdom Miss Mendeleiev was sharing with them. But no matter how much he tried, his eyes couldn’t drift from the still image of his best friend. Even his blinks were slow, and… wait a second… Nino’s eyes narrowed to better focus on a small detail they caught. Was that powder on Adrien’s face? Was Adrien wearing make-up? He only wore make-up when he was trying to hide the tiredness on his face, it was always applied so lightly that it was almost imperceptible, but this one was obvious, it was so so obvious…

Something was definitely going on…

Riiiiiiiiiiiing

Nino jumped in his seat. The class was officially over, and he didn’t listen to a single word Miss Mendeleiev had said. He was so screwed for next week test…

He started packing all his stuff into his backpack, while Adrien just stood there, still frozen in the same spell that had overtaken him during class. When Nino finally tore his gaze away from his bro, he saw Alya and Marinette standing right in front of their desk, Marinette was frowning at Adrien, her face was pensive as if trying to come up for an explanation to Adrien’s odd behaviour, while Alya started to snap her fingers right in front of his face.

“Earth to Sunshine!” She called. Nino saw him slowly raise his head in Alya’s direction, seemingly looking past her.

Nino raised his hand to rest on Adrien’s shoulder, which made the other boy flinch and jump in his seat like a scared cat, he immediately retracted his hand. “Hey, dude, is everything okay?” He finally asked.

Green eyes suddenly turned to him, misty and full of sorrow, and Nino finally saw the mask crumbling down. He finally saw the exhaustion emanating in huge waves from Adrien’s inner core.

Adrien then snapped his head in Marinette’s direction, then Alya’s, then Nino’s again. He suddenly stood, and haphazardly shoved all the scattered papers and books inside his messenger’s bag, “I have to go”, he muttered, and without giving them any chance to even react to his sudden burst of energy, he bolted out of the classroom.

“What was that?” Alya asked perplexed.

Nino sighed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The violent wind hitting his face felt like a blessing, while Adrien, now in the safety that being Chat Noir brought him, ran across the Parisian rooftops. It kept him awake, it gave him a boost of energy even though his lungs were burning, and all his muscles were screaming from the exertion.

He should have gone back to school, he still had more classes for the day, but he physically couldn’t go back to that classroom and face his friends. The memory of Alya’s, Marinette’s and Nino’s frowns was enough to make his stomach fold in itself, threatening to expel all the little contents inside.

The violent vibration coming from the impact of his baton against the rooftop quickly spread throughout his arms, furthering straining his increasingly weak muscles.

“Ladybug thinks he’s obnoxious, and she’s right!”

All his forces vanished, making him lose his grip on the baton. The velocity in which he was running made him fly across the rooftop with no support whatsoever. He crashed against the black rooftop, his body rolling over it, being only propelled by inertia.

His body finally hit the brick wall of a chimney, and even though Adrien was wearing a super-suit, and his resistance was considerably more significant than if he was untransformed, every single part of him still seemed to be protesting in pain, rendering him immobile, lying down in foetal position with his back resting against that final chimney.

Being Chat Noir used to grant him the freedom he has always craved. He was free from all the press, all the people who chased after Adrien as if they knew him better than he knew himself. He was free from all the expectations, all the demands, all the disappointed looks his father threw at him. He could be whoever he wanted as Chat Noir, and so he pretended and pretended, clowning around, because no one expected anything from him, so he was free to do whatever he wanted, to say whatever he was thinking.

All his troubles would be left behind as soon as he said the magical words, but of course, he knew that they would catch up to him eventually because he was still Adrien underneath that black mask. It was easier to pretend though. And so, he acted and acted, until the act became the person, and he didn’t know who he was anymore. Who was he kidding? He never really knew who he was.

Adrien released a shaky breath. His back was killing him, and the left side of his hip was burning. He would have to apply so much concealer to hide the bruises that have for sure started to form.

Being Chat Noir used to be a blessing in his everyday life, a getaway from being Adrien. But now? It was starting to feel more like a curse. All because of Adrien’s problems, Adrien’s inner defects have caught up to Chat Noir.

Adrien wasn’t trustworthy, he knew that from the way his parents have always pretended that his mum was perfectly fine even though she was bedridden most of the time, that last year she was still around. He knew that from how his father would still not tell him anything about what happened to her. From how they didn’t trust him around other kids, thinking he was just a porcelain doll that would break at the slightest touch. How his father still wouldn’t trust him with Nathalie’s condition. And so, because Adrien wasn’t trustworthy, and Adrien and Chat Noir were the same person, Chat Noir wasn’t trustworthy. And that was why Ladybug was hiding so much from him.

Adrien was unlovable. He could tell by the way his father looked at him, with so much disdain, as if it would be better that he was gone instead of his mother, and perhaps he was right. Perhaps everyone would be better off without him in the pic-

His ring beeped suddenly as if it was trying to stop his downward spiralling thoughts. Adrien slowly raised his hand to his eyes’ level, pondering if he really deserved to be Chat Noir.

No one seemed to like Chat Noir, no one seemed to need him. Not even Ladybug. Ladybug is amazing, she has all those other superheroes to help her, and lately, she has been relying on them more and more, rendering him useless. He didn’t even use cataclysm in some of the last missions. Heck, Rena was already giving him orders and making plans with Ladybug.

They seemed to be so close lately. Adrien wouldn’t be surprised if Ladybug decided to tell her her secret identity, before telling him. And Adrien wouldn’t really condemn her. Rena was a far more competent partner than he ever was.

His breaths started to get more frantic for the third time that day. He had lost everyone. Ladybug, Nathalie, Kagami, Chloé, even Nino. Nino was his best friend, but he hated Chat Noir, who was a part of him, so if he found out his identity, what would that mean for their friendship?

And maybe he’s being overdramatic like he’s prone to be, and Nino really was only mad because he thought Aya was cheating on him, but could Adrien really risk it? Could Adrien ever tell him his secret and risk losing him as a friend because Nino really hates Chat Noir?

He felt like he was going to throw up, the lodge in his throat seemed to be the only thing stopping it.

A sudden flash of green light enveloped him, and the pain from his fall seemed to have doubled, which interrupted the train wreck that his mind had caught itself in. The pain was good. It distracted him. It was good.

A dark shadow flew across his blurry vision, and he felt something hit his wet face.

“-rien” He squinted at the shadow that seemed to be speaking. Adrien is going crazy. He finally snapped and this is how his fractured mind is showing him just how broken it is.

“Adrien, kid, c’mon!”

Plagg was frantically waving his little paws right in from of his eyes. His leg was vibrating.

Adrien further curled in himself, shielding himself from the cold wind that was sweeping through Paris. Shielding himself from all the voices laughing at him for being the joke he is.

“Kid, please say something, blink at me, anything! Let me know you’re here!” Green eyes slowly drifted to Plagg.

“Pl-Plagg…” God, his voice was trembling so much. Speaking was taking an awfully pained effort.

“Your phone is ringing, it’s that hat boy.” Plagg was holding his phone after diving into Adrien’s pocket. “Please, Adrien, speak to someone, anyone!”

“I can’t… He hates me…” He couldn’t look at his phone. His eyes drifting everywhere but the black blob in front of him.

“He doesn’t, I promise you that he doesn’t! Please, talk to him, Adrien!” Plagg cried, further pushing the phone to his face. Nino’s face was highlighted as he tried to videocall him.

The device kept vibrating. Adrien weakly grabbed it, but it fell to the floor as if his fingers had stopped working and lost all sense of how to grip an object. It hit his leg on the way, which seemed to have softened the fall, so the phone didn’t break. His leg though had just earned one more bruise for the collection.

Adrien’s mind was too sluggish, like an old car running its last miles, that it took him a while to realise that a new voice had joined him and Plagg on the rooftop.

[love-peterparker]

In Extremis || Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: After the reveal of Spider-Man’s secret identity and the release of Quentin Beck’s murder video, there isn’t a lot going right for Peter Parker. But he has you. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, protests and rallies, mentions of murder, a gun that is never shot, and some hair description for Y/N for plot purposes (but it should still be generic enough).  

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I’m first a Captain America and Agent Carter fan, and I wanted to recreate what makes their relationship so special, but with Peter and Y/N… ‘cuz I also love Peter Parker. I really loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, thanks to @marvelouspeterparker, @sinisterspidey (she actually has a blurb called I’ll Follow You and it builds off of Spider-Man’s identity reveal) and @stuckonspidey for answering my anon asks for general writing tips and Peter’s character. And @spideyspeaches with her kind words after reading one of the final drafts of this fic. Lastly, a special thanks to @peterbenjiparker encouraging me with this fic and for making me so emotional with her series Invisible String (Read this!... but only if your heart can take it) that I needed to write something. This story has nothing to do with it, but it does make some small generic references to her fic, and I would like to think that Y/N and Peter are soulmates in this story.

***

This takes place in a universe where a FFH-esque identity reveal happens when Y/N and Peter are young adults.

***

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

Peter rarely admits it, but you say it all the time. When you hit a dead end in the Avenger’s database. When checking for your gun before leaving another safehouse. When reaching for him in the dark of night.

This fucking city didn’t deserve him.

It had been over a year since Peter’s identity as Spider-Man was revealed and the dubious video of Quentin Beck’s murder was released. But it felt like a lifetime.

These two Peter problems were like ivy. They rooted, twisted, and spread. Winding into chokeholds around their victims.

But heroes knew how to play with fire.

Peter’s identity was dealt with in a straightforward fashion. Plenty villains who would do anything to exact revenge on Spider-Man, but they would have to find Peter Parker and identify his loved ones first. And for someone like Peter? Well, it was going to take some time.

To you, Peter was lifegiving. A shining ray of golden hope. You fell to sleep and rose to press kisses into his face. To cherish and hold. To share tears. But to the world, or even New York City? He was a nobody, one who couldn’t even hold a steady job.

You all worked fast while the wicked played catch-up. The Avengers searched and wiped all, but ultimately little personal information Peter had on the internet, as well anything that might connect him to your shared inner circle. Everyone was given an Avenger’s signal watch. And both you and May opted to move as a precaution. May to Brooklyn. You to Avenger’s Tower.

The case of Quentin Beck’s murder was a much more grinding process. Through polished superhero reputations, the lawyers secured an Avenger’s Tower house arrest during court proceedings. An overwhelming amount of evidence in Peter’s favor was gathered. Press conferences were held. Speeches were given. And when it all seemed like it was too much for too long, you and Peter would lie in bed, arms and legs entangled, whispering that everything would turn out all right. Good will win. You just had to keep going.

It was taxing, but not impossible. And just when you all thought you were pulling at the end of the thread with the jury in your favor, the ground beneath you crumbles into nothingness. You spiral and crash into a labyrinth, lush and high-walled. Maybe this was the way out- oh wait, you’ve been here- or have you? You all turn and turn only to face a new dead end. A new set of incriminating videos were released. Spider-Man’s videos took the spotlight, but videos of Wanda and Bucky were also revealed. The streets of New York bustled in whispers.

Can we really trust these heroes? What if these videos are the truth?

And what happens when these powerful people think they are right when they are wrong?

When public protests against Earth’s heroes sprouted and jury members started to disappear, it was clear that the whoever or whatever was behind this had greater motives and powerful allies. It was time to buy time.

Everyone had tried to convince Peter to go into hiding somewhere else. Anywhere else. He had enough super-friends where anywhere was possible. Lay low while everyone else above ground scrambled to unweave this massive web of lies. But Peter was infuriatingly adamant that New York, regardless of her wavering loyalties, was his to protect.

So two months ago, he started bouncing around New York City, investigating when he could, and making polarizing headlines with every swing he took.

You tried to continue as if Peter was still by your side. After being terminated from your junior journalist job for “suspect ties to Spider-Man,” Spider-Man became your mission. You originally attended press conferences and rallies as moral support, but after Peter’s first awkward mumbles of a speech, it was painfully clear that he needed a new voice. The public herself needed a normal person who interacted with superheroes. Who better than Spider-Man’s girlfriend? But after the last kidnapping attempt and the Avengers’ numbers shrinking, it was clear that this wouldn’t last. The world now knew who you were too.

The thick ivy had caught up, and you were on fire.

But to hell with it because there was no universe where you would be leaving this nightmare without him. So the next time you looked in the mirror, you donned short red hair and heavy eyeliner.  

Days were spent questioning possible witnesses. Nights were spent in the light of a computer. And when you could barely drag yourself to continue, moments were spent staring at your beautiful boy’s picture. He needed you.  

You had only heard from him twice since he went into hiding, though there were a few times answered unknown number calls would lead to abstract rustling and distinct web shooter noises. To those, you always whispered “I love you,” before hanging up.

That was until last night, when you noticed small slip of paper in the crack of the window of the safehouse you had been staying at. Only a time and an address were written, in messy, but undeniably Parker script.

You spent the next day visiting arbitrary places in the Bronx, trying to determine if anyone was following you and collecting items in an unsuspecting backpack.

It was a balancing act between comfort and practicalities. An extra stealth suit. A waterproof jacket you both shared. Protein bars. Extra web fluid and a first-aid kit. A hefty wad of cash, just in case. And in the smallest pocket, things to help him in the darkest days to come. Letters from you, May, Ned, and your other friends. A few packs of gummy bears. And a picture of you and him, laughing in Central Park on one of your many dates. Sunlight casting halos on your heads. Bright. Carefree. Brimming with love.

Your heart cried and cried and cried, begging for those days.

But they were gone. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, so were the people in that picture.

You travelled to the building location and made your way to the rooftop. Rows and rows of white sheets were hung, all whipping in the wind to dry.

A small smile graced your lips. You had to hand it to him. He was smart.

You folded yourself into one of the corners of the rooftop, gun in hand and waited. Eerie silence slowly lulling you to…

You woke up to the soft footsteps, sleepy eyes registering a shadowy figure behind one of the bedsheets.

“Hans?” you whispered, pointing your gun with a finger on the trigger.

“Leia,” the figured replied, equally hushed. The shadow lifted the curtain. It took a second to register, but it was really him. You raced towards each other, quick hold each other, beaming. Today, you existed in the same place at the same time.

“That was so stupid. I can’t believe you got me to do that,” you laughed, pressing your face into him, holding him tightly as if he could disappear at any moment.

“Oh, come on, you loved it!” he quipped. You hummed in appreciation.

“True, but I love you more.” His eyes brightened at your confession, pink dusting his cheeks.

“I know.” You shook your head, smiling at his response before turning your head and taking in who he had become. Gone were the luxurious curls, replaced with a buzzcut. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose in further attempts to conceal his identity. Hallowed eyes. His skin tinted gray from the stress. You ran your fingers through the fuzz on his head, massaging his scalp. A sigh escaped his lips, eyes fluttering shut, with hands reaching to caress yours.

“You cut your hair.”

“You did too.” His fingers danced in the ends of your own tresses. A sad smile furnished your face.

“It had to be done,” you replied, before pressing your lips to his cheek and gently removing yourself from his embrace to get your laptop. “We need to get started. We’ve found a lot since you left.”

With his head on your shoulder, fingers laced with yours, and your laptop on your lap, you recounted the on-going investigation to him. The deep web that just kept going and going. Your theories and suspects. And when that was done, you kept talking. How Aunt May and his friends were fine but missing him. How the remaining Avengers were fairing. Peter was oddly quiet, sharing only a few thoughts here and there, but you attributed it to his weariness.

As the sun continued to dip, the silences between sentences stretched, but you mustered more words. As if your sentences were the delicate string that grounded him to you.

“Y/N,” he interrupted. You looked at him and hummed in reply. He began playing with your fingers, eyes never meeting your own. “I love you more than I ever I thought I could, and I’m really thankful for everything you’ve done. And you’ve done so much. Like, I don’t know if I would have even made it this far without you, but here you are, and well, you can’t keep doing this.” You cocked your head, before shaking your head, hair rustling.

“What? Peter, we are getting somewhere! I just need to visit the-“ He lets go of your hand, fingers clenching into trembling fists.

“No, no more visits. No more investigating. This can’t be your life. When this started, we thought there was a way out. But it’s been over a year. Clearly whoever or whatever is doing this won’t stop until we’re all gone. This may never stop. I can’t have you throwing away your life for me. Hell, I don’t even know when I’ll see you aga-“

“Peter,” you cut him off, your voice pitched lower in concern, “Where is this coming from? We’re gonna make it. It is just a matter of-”

“I can’t give you what you deserve! I’m Spider-Man, so we don’t get to have a house and two kids! We get this-, this fucking disaster! I live like this because I have to. I don’t get a choice. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough where you are doing the same thing!”  

Your mouth fell open, ready to spit back poison when he looked at you. It was in his eyes. Behind the falling tears and redness was the glint of insecurity that Peter had always carried. This was the child whose parents died. The teenager who didn’t stop his Uncle Ben from getting killed. Who held Tony Stark in his last moments. The man who was on the run.  

The hero who would never stop giving to a world who would never stop taking.

Your thoughts frenzied. If you held on to him too tightly, he would resist. The more he would thrash, determined to save you while slowly sacrificing himself until there was nothing left. Your brain was frozen, so your heart gave you the words-

“Marry me.”  

Peter’s eyes widen before retracting into a tight furrow, scrunching his nose.

“What?! No! Did you not hear anything I just said-“

“I’m not leaving you. I will never leave you. The one thing you never get to doubt in the world is us. So, I’m gonna ask you again; will you,” you took his hand, went to one knee, and let your voice soften as you held his gaze, “Peter Parker, marry me?”  

You both bathed in silence. His chocolate doe eyes boring straight into yours, searching for truth. The thought that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way started to crawl into your mind, but then a smile slowly creeped onto his face, bright red with blush. More salt-water pooled in his eyes. He pulled you into a near lung-constricting embrace, smothering wet kisses into every inch of your face. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could practically hear his thoughts as you basked in each kiss. I missed you. I love you. And oh my god, you’re here to stay.

“What did I ever-, I have no idea know what I ever did to ever deserve you.” A smirked formed on your lips.

“Is that a yes?” The gold stars in his eyes shined at your playfulness. There was the man you always loved.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes. I do, Mrs. Parker,” he said pulling you in for a passionate kiss. And you both stayed there, melting into the ground beneath you. Breathing each other in as moments passed. Tender “I love you’s” flowing generously from both of your lips. As if the world had vanished and all that existed was you and him, and him and you, and this understanding that this, this was a love until death do you part.

Peter was the one to break the string of kisses, leaving you to chase his lips before touching his forehead with your own. His breath hot on your face. “I- , if you go to my lab there is a secret compartment. In my desk. The code is your birthday. I was going to ask you myself, but then, well… this.” You chuckled as he stumbled on his words.

“I’ll get it as soon as I can.” You both leaned in to close the gap again when a cacophony of sirens and lights echoed in the streets below.

Frustration filled Peter’s eyes as he sat up. “Shit. I-, I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?” You let out a shallow breath, but quickly forced a smile.

“Go get’em.” And with the whip of his webs, he was gone.

You sat there for a moment, taking in the new quiet. Your fingers graced your lips, still warm with the memory of his. A lightness had settled in your chest, and with every breathe you could feel it pulse stronger.

Because no matter what it took, no matter how long the wait, there was two things for certain.

He was going to protect the city. And you were going to save your husband.

[maxwell-grant]

AIUI, Burbank is even more a question mark than The Shadow is; we don't know if that's a personal name, surname, or nickname, we no nothing of his past, his personal life, or even (again, AIUI) his personality. Is that something that should be kept in adaptations, or ought he be developed more?

Both.

The thing about developing a mystery is that you still need to have something in place to purposefully obscure or slowly reveal. You still need to give your audience tidbits and information here and there that makes them want to learn more and find out what the answer is, even if they know it's never really happening, even if the answer couldn't possibly live up to the hype.

Twin Peaks was able to delay the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder for an entire season and more partially because Laura Palmer had such an rich, troubled inner life and turmoil, that we could gradually receive snippets of information regarding it every episode and still not know the whole story, so much so that, even after we learned who did it, there were still many, many stories to be told within Laura Palmer's life and the city. This holds true for The Shadow, and it holds true for Burbank.

Gibson successfully created intrigue regarding Burbank because, not only was Burbank a crucially important figure in The Shadow's organization and therefore someone we'd want to know more about, but because everytime Burbank showed up to play a substantial role, you could gleam something new about him. Burbank is a great example of staging in The Shadow pulps because his scenes are often written as if we were watching a movie where the head of our main character keeps being blocked from view, until it's revealed, and it doesn't really help us understand him much better than before, even though we've come to learn more about what he acts and looks like.

In fact, The Shadow even seems to be aware of this, such as in the scene below when the narration goes to great lenghts to obscure Burbank's face, even in a scene when there is literally no one around but Burbank and The Shadow. Why go through this much trouble to obscure Burbank from no one but the reader? Why not just refrain from describing what he looks like instead of making sure we can't even imagine what he looks like in our heads in the scene? What's the mystery over what's ostensibly just an average quiet-faced man? And so Burbank doesn't become just a mystery, but a tantalizing one.

The fellow's back was toward the light; since the elevator was dark, it was impossible to distinguish his features. When he helped The Shadow carry the boxes to an open apartment, the bulky objects came in front of the man's face. Since the apartment was dark, too, the features of this silent companion remained as concealed as The Shadow's own.

The fact pleased The Shadow. The less people who saw Burbank, the better - Voice of Death

For example, we do know where Burbank's name comes from, and potentially his first name. In both “The Shadow Laughs” and “The Case Of Congressman Coyd,” Burbank is referred to as “Mr. Burbank,” which indicates it's a last name. In The Death Giver, Burbank hands Harry a business card

At three fifteen, the stenographer entered and tendered Harry a card. It bore the name:

L. BURBANK MOTION PICTURE OPERATOR

A later story specifically namedrops famous horticulturist Luther Burbank, and according to Will Murray, Walter Gibson did confirm to him personally that Burbank was named after Luther Burbank.

We know Burbank's main feature is that he's "quiet-faced" with a "soft, even-toned voice", and that characters can recognize Burbank by his voice even when his face is obscured, but his look isn't consistent. His sole appearence in a cover comes from The Lone Tiger, where he seems to be past his fifties and being semi-bald, but it's not how he looks in Edd Cartier's illustration where he's got a hairdo. Both seem to be somewhat based on Dr David Burbank, the New Hampshire dentist who founded the city. He's been said to be at least 40 once, and this in itself is at odds with some descriptions that place Burbank as younger than The Shadow and describe him as "a young man with a solemn look", which is more in line with how he tends to be depicted in comics, particularly the blonde man with the eyepiece designed by Michael Kaluta.

We know he was officially introduced after Harry Vincent and Claude Fellows, but that apparently he's known The Shadow for quite a while, as he (as Cranston) refers to Burbank as "an old friend" in his introduction (is he an old friend of Cranston as well?). Robert Sampson speculated that the two met in 1924 at a radio station, where as Rick Lai speculates that Burbank may have been recruited in an unrecorded adventure in Rio de Janeiro, mentioned in Gypsy Vengeance, that took place between the first and second novels.

We know that Burbank is at a rather unique position among the agents because he is maybe the most important figure in The Shadow's network, the main keeper of The Shadow's secrets, the one entrusted to run the organization on The Shadow's absence, the only one who can directly reach The Shadow in the Sanctum, and if anyone knows anything about whatever secrets there are in The Shadow's past, it's definitely him, but he's also the one we know the least about as a person, and contrary to the other agents, Burbank is often described in mechanized terms, which gives him a rather inhuman aura somewhat different than that of The Shadow's.

In a sense, Burbank was the mainspring of the machinery that The Shadow used in his warfare against crime.

As contact man, he kept in touch with all the active agents; there were times when he actually ran things, during The Shadow's absence. Tonight was one of those rare occasions when Burbank was needed on active duty.

Nevertheless, the human cogwheel had connected up a switchboard and had a short−wave radio set handy, so that he could continue his contact duties from this empty apartment - Voice of Death

When emergency demanded, Burbank served as he now was serving. Instead of making calls to the deserted sanctum, he was issuing orders in The Shadow's stead. - The Key

Everytime Burbank gets any sort of spotlight, we learn a little more about him, who he is, what he can't and can do. His methods, what he does to spend the time, some of the things he does for The Shadow outside of communications like planting recording devices in criminal hide-outs and devising or managing electrical devices and The Shadow's advanced technology (even if he doesn't fully understand it).

"Burbank began his own attempt to scale the wall. Ordinarily, his clutches would have been inadequate, and his toe holds were uncertain. But the wire was drawing upward under The Shadow's haul. It gave the needed support whenever Burbank floundered. The Shadow could actually sense his agent's progress by the varying strain upon the wire. At last, Burbank flopped over the roof edge like a landed fish" - Masters of Death

There were remarkable devices here. Burbank understood some of them, but the millionaire alone was familiar with all the equipment - Eyes of The Shadow

“To Burbank, long, lone vigils were nothing. He was not a man of action; he was one of endurance. Prompt, precise and always dependable, Burbank had served The Shadow well.“ - The Key

During his long hours of duty, he resorted to one methodical habit as he bided away the time. He always had a supply of chewing gum.” - The Killer

Burbank leaned back in his chair. His position was one of patient relaxation. While he awaited new telephone calls, his attitude was one of complete passivity. There was nothing excitable in the make-up of this man who sat with his back toward the light. Yet Burbank was a man of amazing endurance. In place of action, he exercised untiring vigilance. It was this quality that made him a most important factor in the affairs of that amazing personage known as The Shadow - The Killer

Burbank is, at once, the barrier between the agents (and by extension, us) and The Shadow, as well as the bridge that allows the agents (and us) to find and reach The Shadow.

And I do like it that Burbank's specifically said to not be cut for action, that he's not really a fighter or a marksman or even a super tech genius, on paper he's really just a guy who sits in a chair all day fiddling with radio equipment. But he is still cool and impressive by the standards of what matters most in The Shadow's world. He's patient and resourceful and vigilant and clever and trustworthy, and he's someone that The Shadow trusts more so than anyone else.

There was no sound of the door closing; no sound, indeed, to indicate that any person had moved in that direction. Yet Burbank knew, from experience, that his master, The Shadow, had departed, after giving him the sign that his vigil was ended.

Such word usually came from The Shadow’s sanctum. Tonight, being in the vicinity of Burbank’s present station, The Shadow had preferred to give his faithful agent fifteen or twenty minutes of extra respite by visiting him in person

Such was the way of The Shadow. Though none of his trusted operatives had ever seen his undisguised face; though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them; they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation - Death Triangle

In Suite 808, a figure was seated in front of the writing table. It was The Shadow, in his guise as Arnaud; Burbank was off duty, asleep in the other room.

The telephone buzzed; The Shadow answered it. He spoke in a quiet, methodical tone, a perfect imitation of Burbank's voice. Harry Vincent reported - The Case of Congressman Coyd

On one hand, I don't think the "mystery" of Burbank is ever going to be ruined, or should be ruined. But on the other hand, I definitely think there's a lot of room to explore more regarding what exactly is he as a person, as an agent, what kind of roles he plays, what is his connection to The Shadow or what relationship he has with other agents or other people he's meant to be in more direct contact with. I think it's a matter of balance.

There's a lot of room to work with particularly regarding how you could adapt Burbank into adaptations set in different time periods (not necessarily modern day), because with how communication technology had advanced beyond imagination, there's a lot of ways you could adapt or recontextualize Burbank, The Shadow's social network.

[krxideprnz-archive]

Do you write for Nanami Kento? 👉👈 If so, could you do how it would be ride his face for the first time? Maybe he let the reader do it after a stressful day she had at work? Also thank you very much for the Junpei's stories, I absolutely loved them 💖 💖 💖 . I love your writing in general, I hope my requests don't be boring to write, I just really love soft stuff 👉👈

First time writing for Nanami I hope this is okay 🤭💕

Thank you for requesting and for your kind words😭💕, and no worries! Your request wasn’t boring at all!

Nanami x fem! Reader

This includes content not suited for minors

Includes - pet names/oral f/m receiving/cum swallowing

You sighed in exhaustion, dropping your bag at the entrance of your apartment.

Kicking your shoes off, you walked in the kitchen to grab a glass of wine, just to celebrate the end of a super stressful day at work.

You poured the wine in your glass, not even noticing your husband walking through the door until he spoke.

“You didn’t even greet me yet, (Y/N)” he spoke as he walked closer to you.

“I’m sorry darling” you pressed a kiss to his lips. Brushing through his hair with your fingers.

“Rough day at work. Do you want a glass?” You gestured to the wine bottle sitting on the counter.

Kento nodded, taking the glass from your hands with a small smile.

You swirled the liquid in your your glass around, watching the reflection of the light in the wine.

“Was it that bad today?” Kento asked you, looking at your exhausted form with a frown.

“Yeah, these customers weren’t the nicest today, to say the least. I had to be careful not to yell at them at times” you pushed your hair back with a sigh, the thought of the last hours made your head ache.

He was aware of your job, while you surely got enough money to stand on your own legs, you often came home tired and annoyed.

“Why don’t you blow of some steam every once in a while?” his first thought wasn’t inherently sexual, but when he saw your smirk he instantly realized how his statement came across.

“Oh~ and what are you thinking of, exactly?”

He cleared his throat, explaining that he’d be open to your ideas, since it was his intention to get your mind of your job and he wanted to make you feel good to the best of his abilities.

You pressed your finger to your lips in false innocence, thinking about all the things the two of you could do, or rather, how he could make you feel nothing but pleasure.

“Let me please you, (Y/N)” he said, placing his glass down on the coffee table and scooting closer to your body.

“I like the sound of that, dear~

get to the bed” you ordered and Kento stood up to walk over to your shared bedroom, you were following close behind.

He could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage, it sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.

Sure, you had your experiences in the bedroom, but he could never tell what you’d pull out of your sleeve next, you always knew how to keep him on his toes.

And that’s only one of the things he loves about you.

He compliantly laid down on the bed after you ordered him to, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked at you expectantly.

“How about you let me ride your face, darling?”

You said it so seductively and without any shame, it made his pants tighten uncomfortably.

He captured your lips in a kiss, a kiss wich you quickly took control of as your tongue was exploring his warm mouth.

After you parted due to the lack of oxygen, both panting, a string of saliva connected the both of you.

“Lay down, Kento”

He did as he was told, lying back on the bed, his eyes fixated on your form standing by the bed, quickly relieving yourself of your clothes.

His eyes wandered over every curve, every dip in your body with adoration, you were always the most gorgeous thing he laid eyes upon.

“Look at you, and I haven’t even really done anything yet” you cooed, watching his chest heaving up an down. As your gaze wandered lower you could clearly see the outlines of his boner through his tight pants.

“Strip” he looked at you in surprise, his eyes were still trailing over your naked body.

When he noticed your questioning stare, he started unbuttoning his shirt and taking of his pants.

When he laid completely bare before you, a smile grazed your lips.

“You’re so gorgeous, Kento” your finger traced the outlines of his abs, feeling his muscles move underneath your digits.

“Let me make you feel good, (Y/N), forget about work” his hands grabbed your hips and moved your body forwards, your aching cunt only hovering centimeters in front of his face.

The sweet smell that came from it was intoxicating for him.

He let out a soft gasp as you pushed yourself down on his face, his mouth lapping at your soft folds.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you felt his tongue experimentally lick over the soft flesh of your warmth.

“Oh Kento~ exactly what I needed” you gasped out when you felt his tongue prod at your entrance. His hands massaged the soft skin of your ass while he was holding your warmth over his head.

Your hands grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself as you grinded down on the mouth of your boyfriend, who let out a startled moan at the action but kept moving nonetheless.

He felt your hips move against his mouth, chasing your own pleasure and relief with shaky breaths and gasps of his name.

“You’re doing so good- so good for me!” His tongue licked over your throbbing cunt, enjoying the sensation of your warm slick in his mouth, a pleased moan sending vibrations through your body.

You kept moving your hips rapidly, Kento pushed his tongue even further inside of you and you felt your legs tremble.

“God- Kento, I’m close- let me cum on that pretty face of yours” you whispered, mind clouded over with the pleasure you were experiencing.

He moaned, sucking on your clit with excitement when your orgasm shook your body, your juices leaking out of you.

You came with a broken cry of his name, your job was the last thing that was on your mind right now.

Kento’s tongue was licking over your dripping folds, savoring the taste of your sweet juices.

“My my~” you removed yourself from his face, sitting down lower on his abdomen.

He wrapped his arms around your middle and took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking and licking over your sensitive nipples.

“You can’t get enough of me, can you?” You gently brushed through his hair and kissed the top of his head.

That deep hum of his made you sigh.

Kento let go of your breast with a small ‘pop’ and was about to go over to the other one, but you gently stopped him.

“Let me take care of you too, I’m sure all of this made you extremely hard”

And your assumptions were proven to be correct when you glanced down at his aching cock, the tip was colored in a beautiful red and a bead of precum was forming at the swollen tip.

When you looked back at your boyfriend, he bit the inside of his mouth while he looked anywhere but you.

So you wasted no time in placing your mouth at the tip of his cock, pressing a few kisses to the top, tasting him on your tongue.

“Ah- (Y/N)..” Kento sighed in bliss when he felt your mouth engulf his length.

Your hand played with his balls while your mouth was rapidly moving up and down his cock, tracing the vein at the underside of it with your tongue.

“M-mhh-“ curses and incoherent mumbling fell from his lips, his head was pressed back into the pillow.

He could only feel the insides of your mouth dragging against him and the vibrations of your moans on his length.

You could hear his breathing stagger, hips bucking up to press further into your mouth.

He felt your throat tightening around him, and that pushed him over the edge to release his warm seed inside of your mouth with a loud cry of your name.

After he calmed down from his orgasm, you lifted your head and gently stroked his inner thigh.

“Thank you Kento” you placed a kiss on his sweaty skin.

“You know how to make a woman happy”