#always putting him in dresses and shit and drawing him looking uncomfortable with it or smth like fuck off that isnt even original

[jiniretracha]

BTS as your boyfriend

How I imagine the BTS members would act around you as your partners.

Warnings: Fluff and smut

Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi

KIM NAMJOON

SFW

Always keeps an eye on you: As we all know, Namjoon is one of the best leaders there is in K-Pop, and, as a good leader would, he keeps an eye on the members to check if they need anything or if they’re okay. You’re not the exception. In fact, he’ll double that attentive feeling. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s controlling you. No. He’s just simply to enamoured with you that he can’t help but worry about his girl and check on her any chance he gets. 

Asks for your opinion on how he should dress: Nam had always been pretty confident when it came to fashion, until you came along. Now, all he cares about is impressing you. He’d never admit that, though. He just wants his girl to coo at him and tell him he’s pretty. 

Asks if you had something to eat: He’ll never forget, and when I mean never forget, to send a text asking you if you’d eaten. When the answer’s yes, his chest would fill with relief and unconsciously smile, sending you praise words. If the answer’s no, he’d get a little mad, and maybe scold you a little bit, sending you those texts while he parks his car in front of a convenience store to buy something for both of you to eat.

Hugs you from behind: Nam will see you, in the kitchen, preparing some food for the both of you or just cleaning, whipping some breakfast, whatever you’re doing, and he’ll go behind you and wrap his arms around you, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your neck. 

Tries his hardest to make you smile 24/7: Kim Namjoon is a well-known people pleaser, so it is obvious that he’ll try his hardest to make you comfortable and smile every single time he has the chance. Even if it means putting himself in an uncomfortable position, he’ll selflessly put you first, because you’re his priority, and give you what you want. Because he loves you so much.

Nicknames for you: Babe, Cutie (that’s so Nam), Hon (short for honey)

NSFW

He’s a tease: As I said before, whenever he hugs you from behind, if he woke up with a hard on, he’ll press it against your ass while he mouths at the skin of your neck. “Someone woke up excited this morning” you’d say. Oh, you have no idea. In other situations, out in public, he’d put his hand on your thigh, rubbing it up and down, trying to play nonchalant. But you both know that he’s a little shit and he’s only trying to rile you up.

Favourite position: Cowgirl. Definitely. As someone who leads a boyband, being in charge can be tiring, so he’ll give up his leadership and give it to you in the bedroom. He’s not complaining though. His view from down there is heavenly. 

Aftercare: He’s a sucker for aftercare. He likes to shower you with praise words after he’s cleaned you up while he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you close to him.

Loves getting head: He won’t admit it freely, but I feel like Nam goes weak when he sees you drop to your knees in front of him to suck him off. He’ll go even weaker when you’d look up at him, giving him doe teary eyes while your tongue is wrapped around him.

KIM SEOKJIN

SFW

Teases you every single time: I mean… is it that obvious? The man’s a born teaser. I think that’s his love language. He wouldn’t act like that around anyone. He’d see you lazing around, comfortably, and he’d feel the need to pull lightly on your hair, drawing a pout from you as he smiles while leaning forward to kiss it away. 

Loves to make you laugh: The joker of the group would always try his hardest to make you laugh. He knows you love his absolutely dumb jokes and he loves that you love them. 

Saves you from embarrassment: Seokjin is a person that’s not easily embarrassed, but you are. Whenever he sees your cheeks flushed and looking away, he’ll put himself in your position and embarrass himself three times more. You fell down the stairs? Don’t worry! Jin will fall down with you and laugh about it as soon as your asses plop on the floor. You told an unfunny joke and nobody laughed? No biggie. Your boyfriend’s there to be the loudest laugh in the room. 

Holds your hand during horror movies: He’s not the biggest fan of horror movies, but he’ll suffer through them for you. He’ll hold your hand when a jumpscare comes up and soaks in the feeling of you wrapping your arms around him as you yelp in surprise. It’ll probably happen once or twice that he’ll be the one to jump on top of you because he got scared lol. 

Takes you on fishing dates: Seokjin loves fishing, we all know it. And he loves you. So why not combine the two things he loves? He’ll teach you how to pull on the fishing rod, how to stake the bait through the hook, how to store the fish once it’s already out, you name it. He’ll take any chance he gets to take pictures of you while your hair flies around everywhere with the wind and you smile mindlessly. He’s just so in love with you. 

Nicknames: Sweetheart, Girlfriend (I so imagine him going, “hey, girlfriend” and you replying, “Hey boyfriend”), Babe

NSFW:

Straight to the bedroom after he comes from tour: He’ll get back home and the first thing he does is carry you all the way to your shared bed and start pulling your clothes off. He’ll ask you how your week has been during the post-sex bath he’d run for the both of you.

Favourite position: Spooning. He’ll spoon you from behind and slip his shaft inside you, holding your hips in place while he thrusts against you, making you grasp onto the pillows tightly. He’ll whisper obscenities and kiss your neck as he fucks you hard. 

Handholding: He loves to hold your hand during intimacy. He loves to feel more than just that type of connection with you during sex. You’d feel your stomach swarming with butterflies when you feel his fingers caressing yours delicately. 

Choking: He’s definitely into it. Absolutely. He has really nice hands so he will obviously take advantage of them as he wraps his long ass fingers around your throat, applying pressure on it, eliciting long moans from you. 

MIN YOONGI

SFW: 

Tells you he loves you without words: Yoongi’s someone who has a difficult time showing affection towards others, so he’s more into showing his love with actions. He’ll see you’ve fallen asleep on the couch and he’d smile, pulling a blanket over you so that you don’t get cold. You’d wake up in your shared bed, and you’d look around, confused as to why you’ve suddenly appeared out of nowhere there. You’d walk to the kitchen and find him cooking some ramen and you’d ask, after you greet him. “I fell asleep on the couch, I think I sleepwalked to the bed and-”, “Oh no, you didn’t. I took you there. Figured you didn’t want a sore neck like last time” he said, so nonchalantly, an action that was born out of him so spontaneously. 

“Come home, Holly misses you” texts: He’ll never admit he’s missing you, so he’ll project his feelings onto the little poodle you two call your pet. You’d smirk and text back: “Be right there, honey. Don’t want Holly to miss me too much ;)” . He’ll reply with a: “Yeah, he misses you so much it’s killing him, so hurry up!”

Writes songs for you:  Our favourite producer, singer-songwriter would definitely take advantage of his muse and write endless amounts of songs about her (you). Yoongi would get shy about them but he’ll work up the courage and show them to you, because he feels you deserve to have billions of songs written about you. “You wrote a song about me?!” you’d squeal. He’d look down and hide his blush. “Yeah… it’s no big deal”. Um, yes, it is!

You’re his weakness: Yoongi is an impenetrable person. He doesn’t have any weaknesses. Until you came along. He’ll be in his studio, a frown streaked across his face, and you’d walk inside the room and a gummy smile would automatically plaster into his face. “Hi, baby!” you’d coo and he’d just blush, his face completely red but his heart would be close to jump out of his chest. On another occasion, the members would be pressuring him about going somewhere and Yoongi would shake his head. “Y/N said she’s coming” Namjoon remembers. Yoongi’s head whips up and would smile a little. “Really?” he’d murmur. His friends would not let that go. 

Craves your touch: You are the only one who’d he’d let cling all over him. In fact, he loves it. Yoongi suddenly realises he’s so freaking touch starved, he’d start to be the clingy one in the relationship. You’d be watching a movie and both of his arms are around you, bringing you comfort. 

Nicknames: Jagiya (Korean word for “baby”), Beautiful, Angel

NSFW

Mean dom: I mean… are we even surprised? He’d be pissed off about something (when is he not lol) and he’d just grab your legs, throw you into any position of his liking and start fucking you into oblivion while he holds you down. “You wanna come? You gotta earn it”. He has his soft side, of course, when he’s feeling all romantic but he’d still be the one to lead in the bedroom. 

Favourite position: Hear me out: Sitting in front of a mirror. Yeah. He’d just love to have you all spread out on your cock as he watches you, with your head pressed against his shoulder while his hands run all over your body, gripping, slapping and caressing. He wouldn’t know what to do with so much skin to touch, he’d go crazy. 

Oral lover: Mr. Tongue Technology is the best at it and he knows it. He’d plaster his face onto your core and insert his tongue, letting it work its magic, while you squirm around and clench the sheets. Yoongi would smirk into your cunt and look up at you. “How’s that, jagiya?” and your response would be a high pitched moan. 

Fingering: Yeah, with those veiny big ass hands, who wouldn’t? Yoongi doesn’t care where you two are. It could be on the plane, with all of the members in front of you, he’s sneak his hand underneath the blanket covering both of you and rub the pads of his fingers over your clothed pussy. “Yoongi… the others-“ you’d start whispering but he’d silence you with a kiss as he moves your underwear to the side and inserts his two fingers in and out, scissoring and rubbing your clit with his thumb in tight circles. Your nails would dig into his arm and hide your face into his neck, while his face would remain with the most nonchalant expression ever. 

JUNG HOSEOK

SFW

Sunshine of the relationship: Mr. Sunshine would never let you feel down. If you’re feeling like crying, he’d be the one to give you his shoulder and then, he’d take you out to your favourite restaurant, treat you with a nice meal and then take you to an ice cream parlour just to see you smile. 

Buys you loads of clothes: Hobi is someone who has an addiction to shopping, and because he’s always thinking about you, whenever he’s out to a shopping trip to the mall (which is once in a week at least), he’d probably buy more clothes for you than for him because, “Look at this dress, darling! I just pictured you wearing this dress while we have a picnic by the lake and I just had to buy it for you” he excuses himself while you were about to give him shit for spending so much on you. Of course, he uses that excuse with every single article of clothing he pulls out of the bag. 

He’d go to the gym for you: “Nooo… please, let’s just stay at home and watch Mean Girls together” he’d plead. You’d just laugh, standing with your gym bra and leggings. You had been telling Hobi about the new gym that opened up down the block and you made him promise you you’d both go and try it. “You promised me we’d go” you whined. He just looks at you and sees your puppy eyes, bottom lip out in a pouting manner. Fuck you for being so adorable. “Fine… okay. But we are ordering Kimchi and we’ll watch Mean Girls”

Café dates: I feel like Hoseok is the type of person to see a cute café and go there, no second thoughts. You two would have a list of cute cafés (kudos if it is a cat café) and every week you try one or two from the list. You two use that list as an excuse to just go out and do couples shit, because you both love spending time together. 

Gallery filled with your photos: “Yo, Hobi, there’s no space in your phone anymore” Jimin would tell him, as he had asked him for his phone to take a picture. Hobi would grab his phone, confused. As he clicked on the gallery icon, he’d see the amount of pictures in them and how 97% of them are photos of you. You on dates, asleep, with Mickey, just you. He’d look up at Jimin and shrug, sheepishly. He’s not deleting those pictures. He’ll just buy a new phone and fill it with more pictures of you. 

Nicknames: Darling, Babe, Sweetie

NSFW: 

High sex drive: Okay, so, one thing that is characteristic of sunshine personalities is the capability of having such a high amount of energy. In the bedroom, that’s not an exception. Hoseok can pull all nighters, no doubt. He’s into quickies as well, I’d say. He doesn’t matter the situation or whatever you’re wearing. Just your pretty face will turn him on and he can go anywhere, anytime. 

Favourite position: Bent over. He’ll like to bend you over any surface and just take you. He’s a hair puller for sure. Maybe a little spanking, but I don’t see him being such a huge fan of it. 

Aftercare: Like Nam, I think he considers aftercare very important and a moment where he finds a true connection with you. He finds sex is more enjoyable when there’s love shown afterwards. He wants you to know that he would never use you like that and honestly? He gets cuddly after the deed so…

Love-making Lover: Even if he enjoys fucking you hard and making you scream, lover-boy loves a good round of just romantic sex. Face to face, while his hands are everywhere, as he whispers against your neck just how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have you. 

PARK JIMIN

SFW:

Gets shy around you: He’d get all flustered when he sees you. Of course, you’d poke fun at him, baby-talking to him while he just giggles and hides his face against your neck, his face in a full red shade as you just cackle at his antics. 

Naps on your chest: Jimin would lay on your chest, face squished between your boobs and nap for hours if you’d let him. He’s never felt more comfortable than feeling your body heat, heating up through his shirt, with his arms around you, holding you close, as you card your fingers through his hair while he immediately falls into a deep slumber.

Cheek kisses: I feel like Jimin is the type of person who has his arms wrapped around you 24/7 and his mouth is always pressed against your cheek. He loves to press his nose against your cheek and whisper sweet things to you, like “You are so beautiful, my love”, “Have I told you how much I love you today?” all while he presses his thousandth kiss of the day against your cheek. And it’s only noon. 

Hides his jealousy: I don’t think Jimin would get jealous but if he sees you cozying up with somebody, he’d never tell you, because he’d hate to create unnecessary drama between you two, but he’d be a little insecure about it. Just the thought of you leaving him is enough to make him cry. You’d notice, like the best girlfriend you are, and you’d reassure him. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna choose you over somebody else, Chim” you’d whisper into his neck as he pretends he’s asleep (against your chest, obviously). He’d slightly smile, trying to continue pretending he’s sleeping, but he’s the happiest person on earth to hear those reassuring words. 

Sensible lover: He’s so understanding when it comes to feelings. He’d never overshadow them or push them aside, he’ll always be the most empathetic person ever and listen to you, and try to help you with all his might. Jimin also knows you like the palm of his hand so don’t even try to hide your feelings from him. He knows when you need to hit a pause and break down a little. 

Nicknames: My love (of course), lover, honey

NSFW: 

Shower sex: Jimin loves a good round of shower sex. It depends on the mood, but he can be a gentle lover or somebody who’d just press your body against the tiles and leave your legs shaking as you come while he has you hoisted up in his arms. He’ll wash you afterwards, his soft and gentle hands running the soap all over your body as he drops a few kisses over your skin. 

Favourite position: Missionary. He loves seeing your face contorted in pleasure while he kisses you with his plump lips. 

Oral for both of you: He’d be into 69 for sure. It’s not something that he’d do every day, but he knows he loves when you give him head and absolutely loves destroying your cunt with his tongue and fingers. But he’d love to have you on his face, as he inserts his tongue inside of you while you choke on his dick. 

Lots of sweet talk: I feel like Jimin is so romantic and a person that, when he falls in love, he falls hard, that he needs to voice those thoughts. So, when he’s deep inside of you, those thoughts will spill themselves. He can't help it. You feel so good and he loves you so much.

KIM TAEHYUNG

SFW:

Car drives late at night: Tae loves listening to music while driving with you, while he holds your hand or just grips your thigh, rubbing it up and down. You don’t need a destination or a reason to get the car keys and go for a drive, you both know you love each other’s company and honestly, who doesn’t love Taehyung’s sweet, deep voice as he sings along to your favourite songs. “What are you staring at?” he’d chuckle. “You” you whisper. He’d smile at you and pulls you into a sweet short kiss.

Gifting: It’s kind of like his love language. And it could be any type of gift. Two tickets to a museum (an excuse to have a date with you), a pair of earrings he saw you eyeing a few days ago, or he’d be the kind of boyfriend to restock your favourite snacks, buy your body wash, lotions or perfumes when he sees you’re running out of them. “Tae… why did you buy three boxes of perfume?” you’d ask. He’d turn around and smile, “Oh, I saw it was almost running out and thought I could get you a new one”. He’d never admit it out loud but he loves your scent and he wants to smell that perfume on you for the rest of his life. 

Facetiming: If he’s on tour, he’ll facetime in his freetime. He can’t go that long without seeing your pretty face or hearing your sweet voice he loves so much. While you rant about your day, Tae will just stare with a goofy smile at your face as he thinks how fucking lucky he is he found you. 

Flirts in front of his friends: A subtle way of telling everyone “she’s mine” is flirting shamelessly in front of everybody. He’ll have his hand on your waist and grip it tightly while he sometimes brush his hand up and down towards your ass. “Did you watch that rom-com that I recommended you last night?” one of your friends would ask, and before you could answer, Tae would say: “Nah, we were too busy last night” he’d smirk. “Ew” Hoseok would scrunch his nose while you hit his shoulder. “Hey! It’s not my fault you’re hot!”

Morning kisses: Tae would be the type of boyfriend who wakes you up giving you a full shower of kisses. He’d murmur a “Good morning, my muse” with a soft kiss to your cheek as you open your eyes, his pretty face blinding you almost. You’d immediately smile and his heart would be close to bust out of his chest. 

Nickname: Muse, baby, beautiful

NSFW

Desperate: Tae is someone who’s passionate and he’s desperate for connection. He’d be the type to throw you into the bed after quickly discarding both your clothes and fucking you raw and frantically. He loves skin-to-skin contact and it sends him into orbit how you are just as desperate for him as he is for you. 

Favourite position: All fours and riding. He loves both of them. He just can’t choose. He loves having you on his bed, with your face pressed against his sheets while your ass bounce against his hips and he grips your hair. But, as well, he loves sitting on the couch and having you giving him the ride of his life every single time. His face would be pressed against your chest as he sucks at your nipples and moans against them. 

Boob lover: Yes, of course. Taehyung would prefer boobs before ass every single time. It doesn’t need to be during a sexual innuendo to grab at your boobs, sometimes he falls asleep while his hands are filled with your boobs. But yes, he’s a man after all, and he loves gripping, twisting and sucking on your tits because he’d die a happy man between those. 

Hickeys: That’s a total yes for him. It’s another way to stake his claim on you, a way to show everyone that he’s the one responsible for that sweet assault on your neck. “Oh my God, Y/N! Who did that?” one of your friends would gasp as they tried to hide their laughter. You’d turn your head and find Taehyung with a shit-eating grin. “All me” he’d proudly state like a little shit. 

JEON JUNGKOOK

SFW: 

Cries after a fight: Jungkook is such a sensible little man and he’d be so hurt after a fight. He hates fighting in general, but what he’d hate even more is fighting with you, the love of his life. He’d regret everything as soon as it's over and immediately try to apologise, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with. You’d feel bad as you see him almost on his knees and those doe eyes filled with tears. It’d bring you to tears yourself and the night would end up with both of you cuddled in bed as you reassure the other how much you love each other. 

Princess treatment: Absolutely. You are his little princess, and that means he gets to spoil you with gifts, carry your shoes if they make your feet hurt, piggyback rides if you’re feeling tired, dates at luxurious restaurants, you name it. 

Clingy: Jungkook’s clingy. We all know it. But who wouldn’t love it? He’d bring you with him on tour (after he’d begged and begged to his knees to the staff to let you come with him) and he’d keep you around him all the time. You’d get a little scared the members might find you annoying or overwhelming for him, as you’re always there, but they know Jungkook needs you close all the time, so they’re fine and happy for their maknae. 

Loves to see you wearing his clothes: He feels his knees get weak when he sees you wearing his shirt, as it goes past your knees while you rub your eyes from sleep. He unconsciously bites his lip while you don’t notice the way he’s lusting over you at 8 in the morning. 

Spams your phone with selfies: He’ll either steal your phone and when you grab it, you’ll find he took about 200 pictures, making silly faces or pouting cutely or he’ll just send the same amount of selfies when he’s away. He knows it annoys you but deep down he also knows you love having so many pictures of your pretty boyfriend you love so much. 

Nicknames: Princess, baby, jagiya.

NSFW

Dirty talk: He’s so into it, he’d not only whisper it, he’d just say it straight to your face, making you clench around nothing. “You wanna suck my cock, yeah?” he’d moan. “Yeah, fuck, you’re so tight, baby”. “Look at how dumb my cock is making you”

Favourite position: Against the wall. Man’s a gym-bro so he’ll obviously take advantage of that so that he can press you against the nearest wall and hammer your sweet spot, making your arousal squirt out of you with how hard he likes fucking you. 

Slapping: Are we surprised? We’ve all seen the butt obsession he has and you wouldn’t be the exception. Your ass would be red and sore by the time he’s done with you. He’d love slapping it as he fucks you from behind, when you’re doing the most mundane things like brushing your teeth, cooking or bending down to pick up a fallen object. “Hey!” you’d squeal. “Sorry, your ass looked so tempting, babe”. I think, if you’re okay with it, he’d slap your face with his palm or his cock. He loves seeing you whine when he does it and how your cheek starts turning red from the stinging. 

Biting: Jungkook likes biting a lot and loves giving you hickeys all over your body. He also loves getting bitten as well, especially his nipples. 

[single-malt-scotch]

Mindcrack had many moments of interacting w fandom in a way people basically don't see at all anymore that it's understandable people are surprised and put off that doc "suddenly" said he wanted to read fan fic or whatever.

I mean for one, if you're not watching doc already you should know that tbh hes like on of THE most fandom involved hermits by far imo. Seriously. He's been a huge supporter of fan art no matter (well ya know to an extent) what it is. He commissions fan artists and asks permission for unpaid fan art to be thumbnails in his videos and always credits them in the intro. He's actively taken up 'headcanons' to his skin (goat horns, butterfly wings) or other things ppl draw him in (maid dress). He has talked many times about ships with him and seems generally unbothered and jokes about it.

So in mindcrack days it was not at all uncommon for them to pick up a fan fic to read (at a podcast or something)- which iirc they asked and got permission for (at least some I know of, it has been a while). But they also (mostly) knew about shipping too and talking about it esp in context to when they'd read fics (because yes they did read some ship fics). They had their "that's weird" moments for sure but that was kinda it. And well, back then many of us on our lil Tumblr space did think it was cool because we were excited they interacted with us at all lol...

This isn't to say you can't be uncomfortable!! Of course. Idk if doc has read anything on stream yet but I wouldn't be too worried as I'd also expect him to ask permission (and as fans maybe take openings to remind him to do so).

I think we all know rule number one as a fan is "don't show the cc stuff unless they ask for it". But rule number two in regards to them is "if the cc goes looking it's their fault and their responsibility for what they find". You might still worry about cc reaction despite that and to that I say stop giving a shit. Let go of shame and fear. Anyone can see your public posts. A cc might be looking right and now you'd only get uncomfy if you knew it, but you don't. You'd can't control people and if the cc are an ass about it despite looking for it? Feel free to say something but otherwise shrug it off because it's not your fault. (And if they're enough of an ass stop engaging with them lol). Mcyt (and other similar) are real people fandoms and you gotta remember that. You cannot control this and that's alright that's just how this kind of fandom has to work. So stop worrying about it

[atarathegreat]

TR Boys Crackhead Headcanons

Kazutora Hanemiya

Man spreads because why should you have space on the train

shoves puzzle pieces together that don't match because "this part fits, see!"

broke his own finger just to feel what it was like

moves furniture so people bump into it on purpose

crops everyone else out of photos he's in and doesn't even use the photos for anything

sometimes wears shoes on the opposite feet just to see who will notice

has and will break granola bars on anyone's bed

Mitsuya Takashi

learned to bake so he could put laxatives in cake (fuck around and find out)

hates who his sisters hate

definitely shit talks kindergarteners with Luna

wore a matching dress with his sisters to the movies, pummeled the guy that tried laughing at him

doesn't stop the conversation when he enters the public restrooms

Nahoya Kawata

walks down the upward escalator

smacks everyone in the back of the head because he feels like it

had court once, laughed on his way out because he was falsely found not guilty

has and will drink milk from cereal bowls without having cereal

sits and stares at Souya without blinking until Souya gets uncomfortable

knocked out a guy's teeth and kept them to send back to him via mail

Souya Kawata

Prefers to sleep in a pile of stuffed animals

the bed hasn't been slept in for three years

actually writes poems and hangs them around the city, ended up on the news for it

Cries to ASPCA commercials

Gets angry when Nahoya falls asleep on the couch, drags him back to bed by his feet

completely believes he could solve true crime

Keisuke Baji

Sharpens his teeth with a nail file

tried wearing contacts once but didn't soak them in contact solution so he only dried his eyes out

calls everyone babe platonically

if he can't find both shoes he only wears one

has a scrunchy collection

thought he was spiderman once and jumped off a roof

will shake his ass when standing still (mad tango skillz)

Kokonoi Hajime

Has a book of rare coins

has a button collection

uses chalk hairdye

plucks his eyebrows too thin

can ballet dance

TikTok feind

Manjiro Sano

Calls in sick to places he doesn't work

Got fired from three places he didn't work at

always orders kids meals

has a tantrum until Kenny cuts his hair

uses clear nail polish regularly

has debated getting a trampstamp

does his hair straight up before fixing it so he can look like a unicorn

Ken Ryuguji

has gone bald, does not work for him

draws in tattoos on the side of his head

has a collection of fake earrings that he tried once (Howls Moving Castle theme)

keeps flavored lube in his room just so he can taste it when he wants something sweet

Taiju Shiba

Thinks he can pull of orange (makes him feel like a baddy)

carries an eyebrow pencil everywhere

fights random females for fun

punches himself in the face for being late to things

had frosted tips in middle school

has staring contests with himself

Hanma Shuji

eats ice cream with a fork

eats soup off a plate

has a closet full of plaid clothing, irons it before wearing because "who tf fights with wrinkles in their clothes"

swears by hair gel

tried hairspray once, didn't taste nice so he threw it out a window

after being dubbed the Reaper, he wore a grim reaper outfit

will kiss and the homies and say no homo

Chifuyu Matsuno

plans to name his first child after his cat

has a Baji shrine next to his Peke J shrine

reads his Yaoi books in public and has outburst when things don't go how he wants them to

locked himself in a pet store and threatened to kill himself if he didn't get a cat, his mom beat the shit out of him for it

screams "real or cake" before biting literally anything

Tetta Kisake

puts milk before cereal

writes cursive only to annoy others

once slept on the roof of his house to make his mom feel bad for yelling at him

has a dog name Roscoe (it's a female)

definitely has little man syndrome

thinks girls are into his "mysterious" vibe (literally just doesn't speak to anyone and has RBF)

once pretended to be gay thinking he would get into a girls slumber party

Hakkai Shiba

the only girl he can talk to is his sister (that's just a fact)

moves the family photos around to see if Yuzuha will notice

is regularly on discord but he pretends to be a girl so he can troll guys

swings from trees like hes a monkey because he thinks its faster than running

worked at a haunted house and crawled across the floor like some messed up spider, he was playing as a scarecrow, it was a childrens haunted house

Takamichi Hanagaki

tries to scale buildings by the fire escapes

copies the others fighting styles hoping to look just as cool

eats a raw egg every morning

crops himself out of photos so no one can find him

unironically calls Hina his little princess

colors in the boxes to crossword puzzles

[elfqueen006]

Look Through Me

Mime!Jack (Jacque) x Reader

Cw: fem reader, voyeurism, masturbation, emotional manipulation and all that ill shit.

MINORS DNI OBVIOUSLY.

Based off this illustration by The Sauce

You lay up in your bed, limbs splayed out, staring frustratedly up at the ceiling. You’ve been pretty pent up lately. You’ve tried putting your hand in your pants a few times, trying an experimental roll and tug of your clit. Though your mind keeps drifting to uncomfortably familiar imagery: fluffy ginger hair, freckles on fair skin, pouty pink lips.

You grimace at the realization. You miss Ian.

Despite him cheating on you… betraying you, you’d spent a large portion of your life together. Not just as lovers, but as best friends. Though you were guiltless about sending him away, you missed his presence more than you cared to admit. How he hugged you from behind in the early mornings; kissed your neck while his hair tickled your skin; how his voice had a pleading lilt when he begged you to touch him…

You jolt, coming out of a daze when you realize you’d gotten yourself wet from thoughts of your ex. Your slick gathers on your thumb and forefinger. You sigh, it’s been a while since you felt this way. There were plenty of times Ian had offered to give it to you like he always did, ‘for old times sake’ he said. Though you turned him down everytime. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you still missed his body, and you damn sure wouldn’t let him have yours again. Not after what he did.

You tug at your clit again, a shiver running up your spine at the action. Then, you run your finger up your slit before plunging it through your puffy folds. A groan draws out of your throat. 

You’ve accepted that you miss Ian. But he doesn’t have to know that. It’s just you here.

“Oh~” Your back arches as you finger yourself, hips undulating with each pump. The sound of your heart is ringing in your ears. You can barely hear it over your heavy breathing. It’s comfortably dark behind your eyelids, though you can’t help but as if the darkness is staring back. Your eyes flutter a bit when you push yourself closer to that edge. Then you try an experimental call of your ex’s name,

“Ian…” it’s a whisper. You imagine his whine of your name. His arms on either side of your head while he grinds into you. Your hips buck, “Ian…!” You call once more, your voice strained and pleading. Your eyes feel like they’re rolling over as your eyelids flutter once more, “Ian-”

Your eyes catch something in the dark. A looming figure. Tall and monochrome with only hints of color like a refraction prism. It's Jacque… 

It’s Jacque.

“Jacque! Shit- Ooh!” You end up tipping yourself over the edge without even realizing, startling yourself into a ruined orgasm. It feels less like you’ve achieved climax and more like you’ve spilled putty on your crotch. You’re about to scold him, but the moment you look up Jacque is already out the room, the door creaking in his wake.

You simply flop down onto your pillow, feeling tired and gross. You’ll clean yourself up soon. But right now you have to piece together what the fuck just happened.

You’ve never been so eager to go to work.

You’re awake before your alarm gets you. And you’re relieved to find Jacque doesn’t wake you like he usually does.

You know just what clothes to throw on - a simple tee and a pair of shorts for warm weather, and just enough so you won’t feel stuffed under your uniform apron. Thank goodness that tacky fifties style dress shirt was optional. Even still, you were suddenly very appreciative of your job today. You needed a long and uneventful day of work - or maybe it was super eventful. The whole shop could be chock full of Karens for all you cared, so long as you didn’t have to think about what happened last night. 

After doing away with the hygienics, you’re on your way out the door, though halfway down the apartment steps you get a call from your manager, Barry.

“Hey there!” He says, and no matter how eager you are for work, his chipper voice will never be not annoying to listen to.

“Hey there, Barry, I’m on my way now.” You reply.

He laughs, “I’m glad to hear it, but right now we won't be needing your services. Carol finally came off of sick leave and now you don’t have to come in on your day off! Bet you’re happy to hear that, huh?”

A breeze passes over, making you feel light enough to blow over.

“Hello?”

“Yeah…” Your voice comes out broken.

“Everything alright? You sound…off.”

“Oh no!” You cough when your voice goes up an octave, “No, I’m just… relieved! Thank you so much for letting me know! I was stressing about it all week.” It was only a little true. You have been stressed about work lately, but not above your normal level of being so. But of all the worst times to be given your well deserved day off…

“So, I’m gonna go and enjoy my day off now, bye!”

“Uh, bye. See you next-” Click.

You turn back, looking up to your apartment door. “Fuck.”

When you slink inside your apartment, who else do you find in your living room but your ‘best friend’. Jacque sits primly on the couch, watching a cheesy sitcom with a placid expression. The glow of the TV illuminates his white face paint, giving him an almost ethereal look. Noticing you standing in the doorway, he slowly turned his head to you. A subtle raise of his eyebrows show he’s surprised to see you haven’t even been gone a minute.

“Barry gave me the day off…” You said.

He gives a nod with a curt smile. He’s happy for you.

You gesture vaguely to your kitchen, “Guess I’ll get myself some breakfast.”

At this Jacque immediately gets up, eager to cook for you like he always does. You wave him off, “No, no! Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll just make some cereal.”

The mime side steps you and blocks you off from the kitchen. He takes your hands in his, giving them a firm squeeze. You look into those dark doe eyes, and you have to force back a chill from coming up your spine. Any other day they’d be adorable, and they are. But after remembering how they were practically staring into your soul while you touched yourself… 

You immediately break eye contact.

Jacque gets to work in the kitchen like usual. It’s crazy though, the skills of this man; he isn’t in there for five minutes and there's the smell of flapjacks, bacon, and eggs. Each frying separately. It's like he manifested the breakfast essentials out of thin air, despite you not being on a grocery run in a week. And was that a fucking custom apron he was wearing?!

You decide to take a sit down at your dining room table. Watching this is making your head hurt.

With your palms covering your face, shrouding you in temporary darkness, all you can think back to is Jacque’s voyeuristic gaze. It seems like even then they were all you could see. You didn’t know if he was smiling, disgusted, confused… You might feel better if he was any of the latter. It’d be reasonable. It’d be right. Not the possibility that a mime, a children’s performer, could be slinking inside your room like a common pervert to watch as you called out for your ex.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is too weird. You can’t let this go.

The smell of breakfast hangs heavy in the air. Though the lead in your stomach is heavier.

“We need to talk.” You said, your voice sounding new and serious.

There’s shuffling in the background, and the sound of frying stops. You turn to see Jacque looking at you expectantly, hands clasped together. You stand up and stare him head on.

“What you did last night was …unacceptable,”

Jacque is silent.

“I mean I don’t even know why you did it, I almost want to apologize because…you are still a guest in my apartment, it would feel a little weird if your host was caught…you know, in the same area- but we weren’t even in the same area, you were in my living room where you should’ve stayed and just… Why man?”

No response.

“...Maybe we should set some boundaries. Because… this cannot happen again. I’m very uncomfortable and you should be too.”

Jacque holds your stare for a moment, then slips off his oven mitts. “Do you miss Ian?” He signs.

“...Say again?”

“Do you. Miss. Ian?” 

“No.” You lie.

“Why did you call him?” He signs.

“Because...”

“Because?”

You groan, “Because I was horny. Is that what you want me to say, Mr. Mime? I was pent up! I have needs that I should be free to satisfy in an isolated part of my home without the interruption of an indeterminate house guest!” You huff and fold your arms, feeling yourself getting heated from the neck up. And to add to the embarrassment, you’re tearing up, more out of frustration than anything. You flinch at the sudden feel of soft fabric caressing your checks. Jacque thumbs away your tears, and he gives you a sorrowful look.

“Look, it’s fine I just-”

He shakes his head.

“Really Jacque if you could just- dammit!”

When you try jerking away from his hold he pulls you in a tight hug, your head pressed against his broad chest. You struggle against him, though he doesn’t budge. Eventually you stop struggling and give in to letting him hug you and gently rock you side to side. He trails a hand up and down your back before kneading his fingers through your hair. It’s annoying how weirdly relaxing it is despite everything… he’s got no right making you feel this way.

Jacque pulls back slightly to cradle your face. He searches your eyes for more tears.

“I…I’m fine. For real this time,” you said. The smile he gives is earnest and so damn sweet. You stop him when he turns to the kitchen again, “Jacque. I do miss Ian.”

Jacque furrows his brows, obviously concerned - no - troubled at this revelation, though you defend yourself, “It-It’s only because…I’m not used to anyone else. Everything before then has just been me and him,”

“Him and I.” He corrects.

“Don’t talk to me about grammar…” You sigh, “Listen, all I’m saying is I’m ready to move on. Still, I’ve been lonely… So I need you now more than ever.” As you say this, you take his hands in yours, finally mustering the courage to look into his eyes. 

He strokes a thumb over your fingers before leaning in to hug you. You accept it gracefully, not even flinching when he caresses your waist. He’d be here for you, and whatever you need.

-----

OOookay! So obviously I kind of half-assed it near the end and the original ending was gonna be of him and the reader getting it on by the table and hearing hints of his voice via breathplay. Bc he was gonna be breathing in their ear. Yknow, like an "oooh clever" moment.

Buuut I couldn't do that bc I used up my supply of sexy when writing the masturbation scene for this and I drained myself over this fic and I'm ready to move on. Even still, I hope you all enjoyed regardless!

Stay sweet <333

[whltlock]

CHAPTER 1/10 ★ Masterlist ★ Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/AFAB!NB Reader, Minor Wally West/Reader

Summary: Jason's dead, so how is he in front of you right now?

Tags: vague soulmates au, jason has temporary amnesia, Jason/Reader Endgame, Fluff and Angst, post-resurrection, Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Past Relationship.

WC: 2,154

You take the same route you do most days from work to home. It’s dusk and because of that, the street lights have only just begun to flicker. The ones that work, at least. Usually you tune into the sound of distant ongoings: dog barks, the flutter of bird wings, and the more unsightly ones like glass shatters, shouts, shots.

Tonight, though, those sounds are drowned out by something more pressing. You’re keenly aware that you’re being followed. Even if you can’t hear their footsteps or see their shadow, the goosebumps and raised hair on every limb confirms it. It gets your adrenaline up.

Your gaze sweeps the street as you decide how to tackle your pursuer. They maintain enough distance that you don’t feel them on your heels yet. While the apartments above have lights on, the road is pretty desolate. There’s no one but you and your new acquaintance.

You’re more annoyed than anything. You don’t want to deal with this. You’ve never understood why someone would bother to mug a random pedestrian. They’re not likely to have anymore than you do.

Desperate times, you suppose. Although every third day feels like a desperate time in Gotham.

You duck down a laneway to give them a chance to realise their mistake.

You stop halfway through and look up at the windows with bars above. It’s a painful fifteen seconds before the figure approaches. The first thing you spot is how appropriately dressed they are in the darkest of shades: black boots, black hoodie, black pants, black gloves.

“Man, c’mon,” you sigh to yourself as they advance. Louder this time, you tell them, “You’ve got one chance to rethink this.”

The person—who you assume is a man considering his imposing build—pauses only momentarily.

When he paces forward again, you ready yourself to just get it over and done with. The quicker you put the imbecile on his ass, the quicker your ass gets to bed.

However, the muscles in your legs freeze in place, no longer able to swoop his weight out from beneath him.

It’s his eyes.

Something swims in the sea-foam glass of them.

Recognition of a past life.

Although it’s hard to get a proper look because of the hood, you know his eyes stay on you. Calculating. Confused.

You choke quietly on the two syllables: “Jason.”

His head tilts like he doesn’t quite understand. The knit of his brows draws your attention to the scars that glimmer silver under the moonlight.

Your heart pangs at the ghost in front of you. He looks so different compared to the last time you saw him, no longer a scrawny kid just learning about the gym. You’re not the same height anymore. He’s wider, bulkier. He’d be terrifying if you didn’t know him.

But his eyes weren’t always so green tinted. It’s different. It’s not the only thing that’s different.

You say his name again, disorientated. You watch him as much as he watches you.

His voice cracks as he whispers, “Why am I… here?”

That’s his voice. Deeper, but just as scared.

It’s the meanest trick anyone’s ever played on you.

You look beyond him to the main road. The only thing that comes to mind is shit, you got knocked out back there. Maybe you’re dying in the street right now. Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

“You’re not here,” you say, more so to yourself. But you don’t want his apparition to go. You never wanted him to go. Missing him is entwined in the very fibres of your being.

“I’m not?”

You shake your head sadly. “You’re dead.” Your voice is barely audible, even in the vacant alley.

Jason’s eyes drop to his body. He surveys himself. A hand climbs towards his neck and he pulls at his clothes, uncomfortable.

You pat at your own skull, searching for a bloodied patch. “I wish you weren’t.”

His gaze snaps to you. “I don’t…”

He wants to say that he doesn’t remember. Anything. His mind’s fractured. Deep down, he thinks he knows you. He doesn’t know why. There’s flashes. One of them led him to you.

It hurts. There’s an ache in your chest as much as there’s one in his. His brain hurts, too. Like something hit him, hard.

Jason’s fists curl. You move closer and when his name rolls off your tongue, it slices into him. He steps back, troubled.

Jason must be his name, but he’s not sure he can trust it. Trust you. Even though his body yearns for your compassion.

You look sad. It makes him feel worse. You rub at your eyes, hoping the fog and fumes have just gotten to you. That when you blink your eyes open again, you’ll just have been passed out.

Jason’s still there when you do. Helplessly, he doesn’t know how to proceed. So he just turns and walks away.

You don’t stop him. Instead, you go straight home to bed.

You wait for the stupor to end; for the world to make sense again.

And you wait.

And you wait.

But nothing rights itself.

Jason waits, too.

And he waits.

But every morning he’s still drawn to you, tied to the hook at the end of an invisible fishing line.

You haven’t felt right since your encounter with Jason’s ghost, but you keep it to yourself. What’s anyone supposed to do, anyway? Everyone goes on with their days since his demise, so you have no other choice but to do the same.

You weren’t mugged because nothing was taken. You weren’t hurt, either. And yet, walking the same route makes you nauseous.

You do it anyway.

Despite how awful it feels, you’re compelled to stop in that damned laneway. It’s empty. Dark. Wet. Stinks of trash.

“Dead,” comes a voice from behind you. It makes you jump out of your skin, even though you know its owner. You whirl around. “I’m dead?”

Jason’s much closer this time. Only a foot apart. He wears the clothes you last saw him in.

It both is and isn’t a question. He doesn’t know. Fuck, he wants to know something.

He looks at you haplessly. As his eyes trace your skin from your temples to your collarbone, he feels the breeze of a faraway memory. Softness.

You swallow. “You were,” you whisper. “Don’t you remember?”

His voice is hoarse as he says, “No.” He’s scared, because while his mind might not remember, his body certainly does. Trauma’s laced into every cell at this point. He just can’t connect the dots. He thinks of death in colours: green and orange, black and blue.

Slowly, he raises a hand, palm out, gloved. An offer; another question. You look down. You meet him shakily as your fingers touch his. He’s there. Physical.

“Am I… real?” Jason asks. “Here?”

Dumbstruck once more, you graze over his palm. He holds the weight like a real person would. You prod at him to further test it. He rebounds easily.

“I think… you might be.”

It’s his turn to investigate. Your hands flip. He traces a vein to your forearm and feels your warm pulse. He can’t help but think I know you, even if it’s buried deep.

It’s when your fingertips slip under his sleeve and touch his bare skin that he jerks away like he’s been splashed with acid. He makes a choked sound. You chew on your bottom lip to keep the tears away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice strained. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. It’s raw, and this time it isn’t about the invasion. It’s about your failure. It unearths grief and love. “I missed you,” escapes, and it’s painful to hear and painful to say.

Jason’s head tilts. He swallows. The words keep him standing in front of you. He thinks you might mean it. It means something to him, at least.

When you look up, it’s with wet cheeks. He wants to cradle them and wipe them dry. The thought makes his own heat up.

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head stiffly. “None of it makes sense.” Admitting it makes him feel like a child even though he’s clearly aged since his last memories.

“Okay,” you say, deflated.

“I… I know you, don’t I?” he offers pitifully. He doesn’t want you to mourn him. “I feel like I do.”

You stare at him for a moment. You’re slow to nod. “You were my best friend.” You look at the ground unsurely before you say, “I can show you.”

Jason agrees. You take out your phone and scroll, then hand it to him. He finds an abundant digital album. He squints as he scrutinises each photo.

But he can’t deny what he sees. It’s him, and it’s you. Us.

A young version of you both. You don’t look as different as he does.

It’s when he scrolls too far that something more stirs in him. The image is compromising and vulnerable. A scan of a photobooth strip; a typical shoot that ends with an impassioned kiss, your hands indented into each other’s skin and tangled hair.

His thumb stays on the screen as he draws over it again and again.

“Oh,” is all he can say as he understands why he wants you above everything else when he’s fresh out of the grave. You’re home.

You’re nervous as you watch him. He looks up, gaze softer. Shockingly, his own nerves have eased, although he doesn’t know what to say.

Instead, you ask him, “Do you trust me?”

It gets caught in his throat on the way out but he says, “Yeah.”

“Come with me?”

“Where?”

“My apartment,” you say. Seeing him hesitate, you add, “You can shower. Or sleep. Eat.”

It’s both a win and overwhelming when he gives a rasped, “Alright.”

He follows you to your building, although he stays a few steps behind. You let him have the space. He probably needs it to absorb what he’s learned.

Jason refuses to shower or sleep but he does sit on the couch with you. You wrap a blanket around his shoulders so he can be more comfortable. It smells like you—like safety. He holds onto it tightly.

You feed him crackers and cheese and water. He nibbles, slowly, eyes moving between your face and the apartment. It’s well lived in. He thinks it must be a while since he’s been gone.

You talk to him in a soft tone like he’s fragile. He is, but it still hurts.

“Did you just… wake up one day?”

He looks at his fingernails. He’s washed the dirt and blood and grime from them time and time again, yet he continues to feel the stains. You notice and it puts a frown on your face.

“Yeah. Down there,” is what he says.

You have so many more questions, but you ask, “Where did you go after?”

Jason shrugs like it’s nothing. “Shelter,” he mumbles. “Old safehouse.”

You sigh, exhausted. Not because of him, of course, but the whole situation is a tragedy. You don’t know what to do. An inkling of doubt hides in the back of your mind: what if you really are imagining all this?

But you owe it to him to take it seriously. Help him. You loved him so damn much, after all. Even if it breaks you again.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, sensing your anguish.

“Don’t be,” you’re quick to comfort. “I’m glad you found me, Jason.”

There it is again—Jason. He swallows. He likes when you say it. It helps him feel more secure.

You peek at him from under your eyelashes. “I… I just don’t know what to do,” you sigh. “I could call Dick?”

The name echoes in his mind. He dredges through cleaved memories to figure out who that is. He must look confused because your mouth forms around the answer, although he beats you to it. He blurts out, “Grayson?”

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “Do you remember him?”

His face scrunches and his head hurts from trying to recall the man. “A little,” Jason says. “He’s my… brother.” However, as he realises the problem at hand, it sets off panic. “Don’t tell him,” he stumbles, “Please. I don’t—”

“Okay,” you murmur. You place your hand near his.

He looks pained as he says, “Don’t tell my family.” He doesn’t know why yet, but he knows he doesn’t want to see them.

You nod. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brush yours. “I… I wish I could remember you properly.”

“Maybe it’ll come back with time and rest,” you tell him gently. You’re hopeful. Out comes a yawn. “Do you mind if I…?”

“S’fine,” he shrugs.

“Will you stay?”

“Guess so.”

You smile at him feebly. “I’ll be over there.” You point to your bedroom. “Wake me if you need me.”

He nods.

Jason does stay, if only to cut himself on your sobs that last well into the night.

A/N: Weekly updates!

😁 Going to do a one-time tag in the notes for people who have enjoyed my previous works ->->->->

[saigawrites]

Title : Genshin characters as highschool students.

Note : This will probably mostly relate to central asian students. Also, most of the interactions are platonic :) Characters that look older will be teachers cuz it's strange for me to imagine them as students😥

Tags : crack, fluff(?), headcanons.

Warnings : mentions of vaping, insulting, alcohol.

Characters : Xiao, Scaramouche, Childe, Zhongli, Venti, Kazuha.

Xiao is the type of student that follows the uniform rules strictly, a well-ironed shirt, a tie neatly sitting on top, with a good-looking blazer. Has good grades, kinda one of those lonely mysterious excellent students who look very pretty while literally putting no effort😭.

We have this thing where starting from 6 or 7th classes will have to go out patrolling on break time. Basically to watch and scold students if they run, misbehave or don't follow the dress code. So I imagine Xiao taking the patrol very seriously, like man would lecture you for a solid 10 minutes when you slightly quickened your pace in the halls💀. I swear, he would enjoy patrolling so much, he would continue to do it even when it's the other classes turn.

Scaramouche is the type of student who has beef with the whole school. With this behavior he would not survive our schools, man would get slandered on daily basis😰. You know, we have this type of insta acc's where you can send anonymous letters inside of your school, like confess to a crush from the other class, right? Scaramouche would literally get hate letters all of the time. Every second post on this account would be about him☠. Either ppl insulting the shit out of him, or defending him with their life, with his pretty privilege I think he would have at least some amount of fans.

In my opinion, scaramouche is those type of people who tried vaping once, didn't like it and started hating and dissing everyone around him who vapes.

Venti is the student who spends his break time in the toilets, vaping with his friends, maybe even drinking. Remembering there was a case in my school where some students hid some beer behind the toilet walls😶. Venti would try to do something like that too, for sure. Also I think he would be very interested in the drama around, involving himself in some conflicts accidentally.

Kazuha is the type of student who vapes, but hides it surprisingly well, the only person knowing being Venti. Generally has a good reputation in school, being a chill student that can get along with literally anyone. Could be one of the Scaramouche defenders, or could be not informed on the drama at all. The one who you always see in the art classroom, hanging out there with the art teacher, talking with your class about the meaning of life, philosophy, and all those other artsy things.

Childe is the PE teacher that never, and I mean NEVER, spares you. You have your PE uniform? Run 10 circles on the 500 metre length. Oh, you don't have your PE uniform? Do 500 squads in the uncomfortable school uniform and then don't have the permission to sit on any benches, you don't deserve them. He's the type of teacher who has the most useless lessons in school, but acts like they are the most important ones. Some ppl simp for him, and you can see why, but you still think it's kind of sus how he acts when his students compliment him🤨.

Zhongli is the sweet and kind history teacher, who puts a lot of effort in your studying and let's you draw things and write stories on your tests if you've done them early😭. Actually appreciates all of the goofy little drawings and stories and thinks of them as the warm memories. Also the one who always greets you whenever you see each other while passing, but somehow doesn't remember your name and always misses it😐.

I think I'll this one on here, let me know if should make a part 2!! This was very fun, and I honestly didn't expect to write that much😶.

[darlingshane]

big bad wolff

Pairing: Braxton Wolff x Marybeth Medina

Summary: Passing on a contract is a first for Brax, but there's something pulling at his heartstrings that is far more interesting than the money he was offered.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Alcohol, Associates with Benefits (or something like that).

Word Count: 2k (precisely)

— You can read below or at AO3.

“Hard pass,” Braxton slides the envelope across the table after taking a quick look at his new target. “I don't fuck with law enforcement.”

“That's the line you draw? Thought you were all about the money.”

“I love money. But a man gotta have a code, too. 'Sides Treasury? It'd put a target on my back.”

“She’s an analyst.”

“Still. Working for the federals.”

“What if I double the offer?”

Braxton raises a brow and opens the envelope again to see the beautiful Marybeth Medina in the photo inside.

As tempting as the offer is…

“I'm sorry, Mr. Calhoun. I'm afraid the answer is still no. What did she do anyway?”

“She's got her nose in my client's business like a rabid dog after a buried bone. The only way to stop her from digging further would be to gently put her down.”

“Hm, I've met women like that.”

“I thought you guys were professionals. Can't you make it look like an accident? What would you say if I added another 50 grand?”

“It’s possible, but accidents can get the wrong people asking the right questions, and I can't have that in my line of business.”

“You're a hitman.”

“And you're a two-time slimy lawyer that scours a six-figure representing the scum of the earth that make me look like the Easter Bunny.”

“I have to say, Mr. Wolff, your reputation does not precede you. Mr. Davenport won't be pleased to know you have refused to do your job.”

“Davenport is not my boss. Tell him I said hi.”

He watches Calhoun like a hawk as the lawyer retrieves his cellphone from Braxton's assistant.

“Did you tap it?” He asks once Calhoun has left the premises.

“Who do you think I am? Of course, I tapped it.”

“Good. You tell H to get a detailed list of all his calls, meetings, texts… I need to know where this asshole eats, when he shits, where he does his dry cleaning…”

“The whole gist. Got it.”

“Put a couple of guys on Medina, too. Just in case.”

“I thought that was your job.”

“Yeah, but I'm afraid they're going to double down now. I can't take those chances.”

“You had to piss him off, didn't you?”

“You know me, sweetheart. My mouth runs faster than my brain. I'm a lost cause.”

Later that night, Braxton sneaks into Medina's building. His guys are already staking the place per his orders.

Medina is not home yet when he breaks into her apartment. It wouldn't be the first time he's done it.

In the dark, he pulls out a mini flashlight and RF detector and checks every nook of her place for hidden bugs.

Given their history, he kinda owes her this one. Even if he didn't, what he said to Calhoun is right, he doesn't fuck with law enforcement. At least not in that sense.

He's going through her desk when Marybeth opens the door.

She’s not surprised one bit to find him there when she turns on the light.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Do you ever just wait for people to invite you in, Mr. Wolff?” She watches Braxton, clad in back, putting his gadgets away.

“Hm, sometimes. But it's not as fun.”

“Business or pleasure?” her frown remains firm as she puts her case down, removes her blazer and steps out of her uncomfortable shoes.

“How about both?”

“Some things never change.”

Marybeth rolls the sleeves of her dress shirt and pulls out a bottle of scotch and two ball glasses from the cabinet, as he takes off his leather gloves and sits at the dining table.

That's how their meetings always start – with a bottle of Lagavulin and a formal debrief that follows with them handling their pressing business between sheets.

“I think I have a mole,” Marybeth realizes after hearing Brax's warning.

“How do you figure?”

“Because only me and my boss know about Davenport LLC. We're still gathering evidence.”

“Is your boss dirty?”

“Ray King?” She chuckles a little, “not a chance in hell.”

“Well, whatever you have on Davenport is making them shit their panties.”

“Davenport doesn’t scare me,” she throws back her glass, taking a big gulp of her drink.

“He should. I’ve seen what he does with pretty faces like yours.”

“You think he’d be that dumb to go after me?”

“He came to me, honey. He is that dumb.”

“You could've just called, you know?”

“Had to make sure nobody was listening.”

“Are they?”

“No.”

“Good. Can we move on now to the pleasure part? I had a long day.”

“I just told you one of the most dangerous men on the planet is after you and you’re not worried at all?”

“Oh, I am worried. But he’s not going to show up tonight, is he? Uh-uh. Not as long as I have The Big Bad Wolff on my side.”

“Gotta say, Medina. You were not like this when we met. You went quickly from little lamb to lion.”

“Maybe I was never a lamb. And, you weren't like this, either. It seems that you actually care about what happens to me, Mr. Wolff.”

“Well, perhaps I do. Would that be so bad?”

“Hm, no. Not at all.” She stands up, offering a hand in his direction. “You coming, Big Wolff?”

“Rock ‘n Roll, girl.”

Braxton downs the rest of his drink and takes her hand, letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Under the warm glow of the night lamp, and Brax’s brazen stare, her hands undo one by one the buttons of her shirt. As her skin comes to view, he pulls out his boots and slips out of his jacket without letting her out of his sight.

There’s no rush, but the thrill is palpable. It lingers in the air. They’ve already gone through this more times than he can count, and watching her undress her body is just as exciting as all those times he’s ripped her clothes apart.

When they're both stripped to his underwear, his hands automatically are drawn to frame her hips, pulling her body flush against his. Marybeth tilts her head, tentatively seizing his mouth slowly, letting her fingers draw the toned slopes of his arms.

Her tongue moves past his lips as her skin comes alive, buzzing under his palms, as his fingertips sink at the curve of her ass.

Brax tries to take control of the kiss, but Marybeth doesn't waver, and brings one of her hands to hold his chin still. She nibbles his bottom lip before sucking it between her teeth to see it turn dark pink after releasing it.

Usually, she lets him be the one in charge, but tonight she's in the mood for something different. There are things outside this room that escape her control, and here with him is the only thing she can get a semblance of power.

“Thought you wanted the big bad Wolff.”

“I want him on a leash,” her hand curls around his throat without squeezing.

“Yeah? What do I get in return?”

“Me.”

He scoffs and licks his lips, “okay, lil lion, show me what you got.”

Marybeth keeps her hold around his neck, guiding him backwards toward the bed until the back of his legs meet the mattress. He lays down on his back, and she crawls on top of him. She braces her palms on his chest, straddles his lap, allowing her hips to gently circle over his crotch.

His hands are automatically called to hold those beautiful hips that shamelessly grind, earning themselves a good hard-on to enjoy.

Behind layers of underwear, she rubs herself over and over, a little faster each time, letting that sweet spot revel in the friction he provides as the inner side of her panties quickly gets coated in her juices.

Locking eyes with her, he’s utterly mesmerized by the unbearable beauty of Marybeth as she bites her bottom lip. From above, she watches him exhale and buck up like an animal between her legs, trying to drill his way into her.

It's a torturous deed, she's aware. There's a fine line between playing with Brax or riling him up, and she's just lightly tapping on it. If she pressed any harder, it'd be like poking that ravenous wolf.

After a long moment, she brings her hips to a halt and reaches back with her fingers to unclasp her bra. As she tosses it aside, she leans forward to gently bite on his lip.

“Good, Wolff,” she grins, tracing the shape of his lips with the tip of her tongue as her fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers to feel his erection. It fills up her fist, throbs as her hand squeezes just a little harder to have his precum wetting the head.

“Hmm,” his lip curls, showing those teeth he's marked on her skin many times before.

Getting him to a point of perfection, she finally rids herself of her panties and pulls down his boxers. His cock jolts on its own when her knuckles graze his shaft. Propped on her knees, she lifts her ass, lines the blunt tip of his cock with her entrance, and sinks onto him.

In less than a second, as usual, he forgets altogether why he came here as her wet ass pussy slides up and down his hardness.

“Fuck me, girl,” he pants as she sinks all the way down, having her divinely, tight opening pressing around him.

Once she's comfortable enough, she angles her body forward, propping her hands on either side of his head, and moves a little faster. First, just rocking back and forth, and then bouncing with practiced ease as Brax fills his eager palms with her ass. Her breasts are so perfectly round and perked, bouncing dangerously close to his face, he can't help but stick his head up to nibble one of them.

Marybeth, smiling mid-moan, holds his head with one hand as he viciously wraps his lips around her nipple. His grunts ripple all over her skin, making her core ache, as he moves to the other boob.

He uses his teeth this time, there's so much she can do to tame that wild beast beneath her, she wouldn't even stop it if she wanted to. After crossing that line, he's all lips, tongue, and paws claiming her body.

His arms curl around her, and before she realizes, he's turning the tables to get himself on top of her and charge the rest of the way. He desperately pushes into her at full force, coaxing her body into submission. The most beautiful cries come out of her as he drives her into madness when his fingers find their way to her clit.

Having his fingers working furiously on that spot, he bites her neck, scrapes his teeth on her jaw before devouring her mouth. He can't bring himself to stop until he's poured every drop inside her. Braxton gasps for air as he comes undone. His cock is still twitching inside her, trying to ride the wave of his orgasm, when her sweet opening flutters around him. All her muscles seize up for a second as a lightning of pleasure travels through her body.

Holding her jaw, he keeps his mouth open against her lips as his breathing catches and the room suddenly goes quiet below the sound of their shared pants. His stomach presses softly on hers, as he lays completely limp and flat on top of her. If someone were to attack right now, he wouldn't be able to even pick up his gun to defend himself or even stand up. He can think of a million ways worse to die than this, to be honest. Given the opportunity, if he had to choose a way to go, this would be it – post-orgasm, still tucked inside the fine depth of her tender walls, as her fingers softly comb the damp hairs at his nape.

[black--sun]

@the-actual-last-quincy || from here

Ichigo pulls his attention away from one of the decorative figures lining lining certain sections of the wall, drawing the conclusion they’re lights of some sort before moving his gaze to the person asking him questions. Rich people have weird shit. But it’s a straightforward, closed question, so it doesn’t require much thought or many words or even for him to be paying much attention. He considers not answering at all, that’s as good as a yes and less effort, but he finally releases a near silent sigh. “Yeah.” 

This seems to be the father, and his new owner. 

A lot of responses surface in his mind at the next prompt. None of them appropriate. And as much as he’d like to let all the uncomfortable truths out into the air, it won’t do him any favors. He doesn’t know what this man knows, so he nods once and submits to that brief inspection. 

He’s not dressed much like a pet, and he’s never been treated like a human before. Masaki had been more than his owner, she’d been his mother. Not that anyone had been allowed to know that and maybe no one ever would. Half breeds weren’t legal. Though to be fair, more often than not, they were mindless, dangerous things. They received immediate execution if found. The same way one might exterminate any invasive species. And they were always found. They were careless and destructive. They made messes and preyed on the already dwindling human population.

Except he wasn’t mindless. He didn’t eat other humans. It’d alway made him wonder if there were others like him. If maybe they were all like him, and if the stories were a lie. But he kept his thoughts to himself. Ichigo never knew his human father. His parentage had been a tersely kept secret, even in their own home, even when they were supposed to be alone, she’d always been looking over her shoulder. But no one had questioned Masaki’s treatment of him- the hugs, the gifts, how she’d spoiled him. That’s just how she had been. Though if Ichigo understood what she’d told him over the years, this was… some relative, maybe their closest. Ichigo isn’t sure what he knows. Isn’t sure he cares. It was hard to care about anything around the yawning void his mom left behind. And strange to him that something could hurt so much it was simultaneously crippling and numb. 

After the widespread, forced evolutions to avoid starvation and drought, humans had either been transmuted into a species with certain immunities or had been left scarred in a way that altered their ability to breed. Wars had been fought over the suspicions of forced sterilization, but if anything had ever been proven or discovered, the general population hadn’t been told. And then, humans had simply stopped reproducing. Stopped multiplying. Within a generation, the food shortage crisis had been eliminated. Within another generation, they’d started talking about extinction. There were very few humans that hadn’t been genetically scarred in some way that made it impossible to reproduce, and that difficulty passed to the few successful offspring.  They’d put themselves on the endangered species list with desperation and faulty research and too little experimentation. The altered humans, however, had thrived. They didn’t need food in the same quantities humans did. They resisted disease. They were physically stronger. All the gmo’ing they’d been doing to their food for centuries, humans had finally done to themselves. And even if the cost had been great, it’d worked. Those turned successfully had pushed to look toward the future, and not to live in the last. And those humans that’s been left behind evolution wise, had become an inferior subspecies. 

He tunes in to what’s being said a few words late, but he gets the idea. “‘s fine.” Ichigo managed. Except he thinks he’s supposed to say something else, so he shrugs. “The guy’s a self-aggrandizing twit. I didn’t know he was your kid.” But, “I have the paperwork. My registration.” He fishes it out of his back pocket where he stuffed it, unfolding the sheets before moving forward to drop them on the desk. Though, there’s one more thing that’s been bothering him. “Are you related to her? My...” His voice sticks and he swallows, finishing with, “owner.”

[martian-writes]

Do You Think I'm Spooky? (Part 1)

Ya'll hear me out!

Ya know the "Why would i make them uncomfortable?" "It probably has todo with your reputation" tiktok sound? Okay yes. Listen.

Artist Izuku

Prep/jock Katsuki

HS AU

Hitoshi n Izuku r cousins here.

Izuku transfering to his cousin's school after his parents decided to move back to Japan from America.

Izuku is a bit exotic to the student body and its not because he dresses like he ready for a funeral. No it's his style of art, Izuku has a tendency to paint, draw really morbid things.

Izuku has a deep love for horror and gore and it shows in his art. No one can deny he is talented though, a visionary.

He is just... spooky...

Katsuki has the oddest curiosity about the boy.

He can't exactly put his finger on it.

"Eyebags. Where is blood n gore?" Katsuki says to Hitoshi who is sitting in an empty hallway trying to study.

Hitoshi looks up from his textbook "who?"

"Wednesday Addams"

An amused smile graces Hitoshi lips, he knows exactly who Katsuki is talk about, he is just fuckin with him.

"Who?"

Katsuki sucks his teeth "Deku."

Hitoshi blinks "I don't know a deku so /again/ who?"

"You are such a bitch. Your 'woe is me' ass cousin" Katsuki says through gritted teeth 

"Ohhhh" Hitoshi says "You mean Izuku"

"No shit"

"You should know. You are like always up his ass"

Katsuki ears tinge pink "Do not"

"Mhm sure mr quarterback" Hitoshi looks back his textbook "Art room. He has been there all day"

"Thanks asshole"

Hitoshi hums. Katsuki heads to the art room. When he reaches it, Izuku sits in the dark, in front of an easel, head thrown back. He has one worn out doc propped on the bottom of the easel. Hands shoved deep into his black cargo pants.

Katsuki steps into the room hoping to be quiet but his sneakers squeak against the floor making Izuku's head fly forward. Green eyes pin Katsuki to his spot, his eyes looking impossibly green and bright in the dark. Almost cat-like, it makes Katsuki shiver.

"H-hi" Katsuki curses himself for stuttering

"What are you doin here?" Is Izuku's reply

"W-well. I- um" Katsuki never gets nervous and yet his stomach is somersaulting and he is sweating.

Izuku raises his pierced brow "You were looking for me... weren't you?"

Katsuki doesn't say anything.

"You know" Izuku says "Most people stay away from me"

Katsuki steps closer "its because you make them uncomfortable"

Izuku is no longer looking at him but at his canvas.

"Now why would /I/ make them so uncomfortable?"

Katsuki shrugs & walks closer "You have a reputation"

Izuku scoffs "I have a reputation?"

Katsuki hums walking closer till he is near the easel. He never peers over to see what Izuku is working on, it's a thing for him.

He doesn't like people seeing his uncompleted work. Once a girl had peered at his work and the death glare she got honestly could kill.

"They feel that your methods, your art is-"

Izuku stands up towering over Katsuki, a grin adorning his beautiful freckled face. His canines on display "Spooky?"

He tilts his head, eyes scanning Katsuki's face before leaning closer to the ash blonde. Katsuki scans his face, Izuku is so pretty and no one should look this good in a mullet but here he is defying all logic by being hot.

Izuku wraps his large hand around Katsuki's wrist, placing a hand over his eyes. Izuku places Katsuki in front of the easel, leaning close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

"Do you think I'm spooky?" Izuku whispers, removing his hand from over Katsuki's eyes.

Katsuki blinks away blurriness before his breath hitches. The canvas is completely painted a deep blood red.

But center if the canvas... is...

It's Katsuki.

He is finger painted in the blood red paint. But it is so detailed, his face in a scowl, eyes sharp. Wrinkles in between his brows.

Its so

"Beautiful" Katsuki whispers

"Yeah? Doesn't. Creep you out that it looks like I drew you in blood?"

Katsuki can't look away, he shakes his head.

Izuku hums and leans against a table.

"You are weird pretty boy"

The nickname snaps Katsuki out of it. He turns to the greenette.

"Am i?" He questions

Izuku nods.

Katsuki steps closer to him "I don't find you spooky"

Now Izuku's breath hitches

"Am I still weird?"

Izuku's eyes drop to Katsuki's lips

"Very".

Katsuki surges forward pressing their lips together for a second. He pulls away & Izuku digs his ringed fingers into Katsuki's spikey locks. Pulling him closer to kiss him longer, deeper.

[kittiofdoom]

Parings: Kenna x Odin

Tags: Drunk Odin, Manipulation, Humiliation, Odin is an entire trigger warning, mentions of blood, gaslighting, Heimdall is a little shit

Wordcount: 3624

A/N:  I had one little fleeting thought of an idea and this entire thing happened. It draws from a few different lore snippets, Odin getting drunk and him often giving the person he loves leeway. The alternate name for this fic is Heimdall talks shit get hit.

Summary: It was supposed to be a quiet evening for Kenna, but the best laid plans oft go awry when Kenna is asked to deal with a drunk Odin.

—CUP RUNNETH OVER.

“Kenna?”

There was a knock on the doorway to her and Odin's room. Kenna was just settling down for the evening, brushing out her hair and undoing each individual braid. She looked behind her and offered a polite smile.

“Oh, Thrúd, good evening, what can I do for you?” Kenna asked with a little welcoming gesture. She continued working as she heard the girl approach.

“Mum sent me,” Thrúd began and Kenna heard the way her feet scuffed against the floor in a sheepish gesture. “She said to invite you to come get a drink in the Great Hall, but uh... if you're just about to go to bed.. it's okay..”

Kenna's smile became thin lipped, but she kept her expression pleasant for Thrúd's sake. Ah. Sif was calling her in for some reason or another like she was the All-Father's keeper. Well... she supposed she was in a way. Sif and Kenna didn't see eye to eye at the best of times, but Kenna always came when Sif called.

“Tell Sif I'll be down in a couple minutes.”

---

It had taken her exactly a couple minutes to throw on a loosely belted dress and walk at a slightly faster pace than her usual gait to get to the Great Hall and she could see instantly why Sif wanted her around.

Thor and Odin were sat at the table, Odin looking like he was a good many cups into his drink while Thor kept the tankard of alcohol at a safe distance. Kenna could hear Odin from where she stood needling Thor in all the ways Odin knew would get under his skin.

“Thor, c'mon it's just one drink it's not going to kill you!” Odin pushed his arm, it did nothing to move the beast of a man. He sat unyielding in will and in body like stone with an expression that Kenna could only describe as incredibly uncomfortable.

Thor shook his head, muttering something Kenna didn't catch but she shared a silent look with Sif, who then indicated at the pair with a small tilt of her head and muted fire in her eyes. Sort this out.

“Dearest,” Kenna put on her softest, sweetest, voice as she crossed the hall to the pair. She just needed to keep Odin distracted enough that Sif could pull Thor away—an age old strategy at this point.

Odin snapped his head up, a hand flying out to catch Kenna by the arm and pull her down into his lap. He smelled of mead, magic and books—must've been another night pouring over the mask that went nowhere.

“You'll drink with me wont you, little snow owl?” Odin slurred as he pushed the cup into Kenna's grasp. The amber liquid sloshed over the side trickling down her fingers and onto her dress in little wet droplets. His gaze flickered back to Thor with a sneer. “She's not a stick in the mud unlike some people I know.”

Kenna cleared her throat, bringing the cup to her lips wordlessly to sip. That wasn't enough for Odin as he pushed the bottom of it upwards, tipping half of it down her front. Kenna coughed and spluttered, shooting Odin a look as she set the drink down.

“I can't drink it when it's all over me, my beloved,” Kenna commented dryly, but she soon squeaked as Odin pressed his face into the slope of her neck, kissing at the places where the alcohol sweetened her skin.

“I can,” he rumbled in return, teeth and beard scraping against her throat. Hands began to wander, one splaying out against Kenna's shoulderblades to support her as the other groped a handful of her breast.

“Od-Odin!” Kenna gasped, batting his hand away with a flustered huff. Somewhere behind her Kenna heard the sound of Thor getting up and escaping the entire situation now that Odin was well and truly distracted.

“C'mon love,” Odin slurred as he buried his fingers at the back of her head, brushing through the strands with a delicate care. “Your hair is down. S'nice like fresh snowfall. Beautiful, you're so beautiful. My Kenna.”

Kenna melted into the affections, letting Odin push her head down while he leaned into her.

“I love you,” Kenna said breathlessly, speaking into the kiss even as Odin muffled her words with his lips. She felt him smile into it and tasted the mead on his tongue as she returned the kiss with as much passion as was given.

“Love you too,” Odin slurred as he pulled away enough to let Kenna breathe but he was still there consuming her space and oxygen with his very presence.

Kenna reached up, trailing the lines of curled ink up Odin's neck until she touched his face. He caught her hand in his own, kissing her fingertips.

“Come to bed with me, beloved. I miss you.” Kenna said as she began to slide off Odin's lap. He allowed it, and followed, standing—stumbling—and leaning on her for support. It was slow going, every few steps Odin would stop, either getting distracted by something in the room, or by pulling Kenna impossibly closer to him to hold her.

They nearly made it out without incident until blue eyes met purple ethereal ones. Heimdall smirked. Kenna realized what was about to happen a second too late because Heimdall had already gleamed her thoughts.

She opened her mouth to plead, “Heimdall don-”

“-Those are your intentions with the All-Father?” Heimdall raised a single—judging—brow as he cut her off. He was loud enough that it drew the attention of several nearby spectators.

Embarassment in a hot flush flooded Kenna's body, made worse when Odin pulled away from her, brows furrowing in suspicion.

“Kenna?” He questioned, stepping back when she reached for him and denying her the comfort of his touch.

Of course he'd gotten the wrong idea he was drunk and Heimdall was capitalizing on that to make a scene. Kenna looked back from Odin to Heimdall, hoping he could sense the absolute hatred for him for putting her on the spot like this.

She opened her mouth to mutter something softly, looking down at the floor to hide the way her expression shifted. She was absolutley mortified.

“I can't hear you Kenna, speak up,” Odin snapped. He took a step towards her, swaying dangerously and Kenna reached for him once more. He didn't let Kenna anywhere near him and a nervous noise escaped her in concern that Odin might fall.

“Yes, Kenna, speak up for the whole hall to hear,” Heimdall added, leaning against the wall as he embraced the entertainment in front of him with the biggest smirk.

She was still trying to grab ahold of Odin's arm but Heimdall kept inclining his head and telling Odin which way she was going to grab allowing him to step out the way. She wanted to murder Heimdall, she wanted to hex him in all the most brutally painful ways. She was going to and not even Odin himself was going to stop her.

“My... intentions were.. to make love to you,” Kenna forced out in a panic when Odin over balanced. She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around him to keep him upright.

Odin at this revelation laughed, wrapping his arms around Kenna and if he noticed how furious she was he didn't comment on it, instead kissing her forehead and face. Finally Kenna was allowed to help him keep steady and some of her building anxiety was settled.

“Oh, well why didn't you say that in the first place love?” Odin asked, grabbing at her dress posessively.

Kenna grunted in reply, ignoring his affections as she put a hand out expectantly. She was in no mood for his flirtations now.

“Gungnir,” she all but ordered.

Odin huffed, but none the less the weight of the spear in it's shortened form appeared in Kenna's grasp and for the briefest moment Kenna let Odin stand on his own as her other hand came to the spears shaft. With a twist of her hands the shaft elongated to it's full form and she handed it back to Odin to use a walking stick but she made sure to look Heimdall directly in the eyes so he knew what she'd rather be doing with it.

“Goodnight Heimdall,” Kenna said curtly as she tucked herself under the arm of Odin's blind side so he couldn't see her but she could still assist him. They began to shuffle down the corridor towards the rooms.

“I could just telepo-”

“-Absolutely not.” Kenna cut him off. “Remember what happened last time?”

Odin was silent for a few moments, indicating to Kenna that he did, infact remember. Kenna heard the first few caws of ravens and instantly veered Odin into the wall. He hit it with a small grunt of surprise. Her body pressed against him, voice low.

“Now love, if you teleport us I can't do this can I?” Kenna whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his teasingly.

The sound of ravens stopped. Technically she could still do that while he teleported them but Kenna was banking on Odin being far too drunk to multitask that well. She didn't want to end up in Midgard again because he got the destination wrong.

She was right.

Odin kissed her until she was breathless and the slights of Heimdall were but a distant memory. It wasn't enough to make up for earlier but it was a good start. Eventualy Kenna pulled them both from the wall to resume their walk to the bedroom.

There was a few more stops before they got there—drunken antics from Odin. He was stealing kisses and tugging on her belt trying to undo it but Kenna batted him away playfully to keep them on track. Oh she loved this infuriating man.

She pushed the door open and kicked it shut as she passed it to close them off from the rest of the world. No more distractions, just the two of them.

Finally.

Gungnir vanished with a flick of Odin's hand in a purple blue glimmer of magic as he stumbled towards the bed. He sat on the edge of it, beckoning for Kenna with a small motion of his fingers.

“Kenna, my love, come here, let me see you,” he began as Kenna took his hand. He pulled her close, standing her between his legs as he rested his head on her chest. “I know you're mad I'll make it up to you.” And then in the same breath, even quieter. “You can't stay mad at me you love me too much.”

Kenna made a noise between exasperation and endearment, kissing the top of his head while stroking up and down his spine.

“Mm, you might be right about that,” she hummed, listening to the way Odin's breathing slowed to a steady pace as he fell asleep listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Kenna sighed, pulling away so she could lay Odin down on the bed. Rings were removed one by one and placed on the bedside table, followed by boots at the bottom of the bed. The belt was a little more difficult but she managed to untie it and wiggle it free. Last came his eyepatch, removed with care and set down. She kissed his cheek and wrapped him in her side of the furs.

Now Odin was settled Kenna had some business to attend to.

---

When Odin awoke that morning it was with a pounding headache and very little recollection of the night before. He groaned and reached up to scrape a hand against his face.

To his left Huginn cawed, perched on the edge of the nightstand preening his feathers.

“Kenna says drink the whole drink,” Huginn said, tapping on wooden cup beside him. Inside was a dark liquid that did not look pleasant.

“I didn't know you answered to Kenna now,” Odin grumbled as he sat up. The room was spinning, the pressure behind his eyes like his head was about to split open.

Huginn chirped a sound almost like a laugh and ruffled his feathers.

“Kenna gives us many treats and makes you less grumpy. What's not to like about her?” Huginn replied, tapping the cup once more demandingly.

“Alright, alright cheeky, you win, stop squarking you're giving me a headache,” Odin said as waved the bird off with a huff. He pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing the cup and downing the contents in one go. It tasted foul but it made the pressure behind his eyes fade considerably.

Oh, he loved that woman, the miracle worker that she was.

“She also told me to tell you that when you're ready she's in the study and she'll accept any punishment you're going to dish out,” Huginn said when he was certain Odin had finished the entire cup as instructed.

“Punishment? What punishment?” Odin stood and busied himself with changing his clothes. Based on the placement of his posessions Kenna must've partly undressed him last night. She always took such good care of him.

“She got into a fight with Heimdall last night,” Huginn explained, picking up the eyepatch with his claws and bringing it over to Odin when he was ready.

“Oh, well I'm sure it can't be that bad it's Heimdall after all, right take me to her.”

The world shifted in an unkindness of ravens and Odin was staring down at Kenna in his chair reading a book in one hand, and occasionally looking over to the mask on her right. She looked up at him with a warm smile and closed the book.

“Good morning dearest,” Kenna began as she rose from the seat and circled the table to kiss him on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Odin smiled, returning the kiss with one of his own.

“Better thanks to you, now what is this about a punishment and fight with Heimdall?” Odin asked, swiftly moving the conversation to where he wanted it to be. Kenna smiled a smile that Odin had come to learn was a dangerous expression on his witch's face as she pulled away from him with a little not so innocent hum.

“Oh, that. Well you might as well hear it from Heimdall himself he's been loitering outside all morning waiting for you, Heimdall!” Kenna called out and as if on cue the doors opened and in came Heimdall.

“All-Father!” Heimdall said as he entered the room in a flurry of movement that he was trying to keep contained. He came to a halt in front of Odin, arms spread wide as he bowed. “She attacked me in my sleep!”

“I didn't attack him, I stabbed him. Once.” Kenna scoffed to the left, sitting on the edge of the table. She was examining her nails while she spoke as if this wasn't a serious situation.

“You stabbed him?” Odin repeated, he didn't know if he was impressed or irritated with her. That was no easy feat after all.

“Once. With the tip of a blade. He's being a child.”

Heimdall gestured at her as if to say see and Odin could feel the his temples beginning to throb again. Wordlessly another cup was pushed into his hand by Kenna—where did... no nevermind all that mattered is she'd come prepared. Odin drained the cup and set it down. This was going to be tiresome.

“Kenna, why did you stab Heimdall?”

“Because I wanted his blood.” Kenna said with a shrug, she gestured back to Heimdall in the same manner Heimdall was gesturing to her. “He's being a baby. I barely even scratched him. I could've done far worse.”

Odin knew she was right, and by the looks of it Heimdall wasn't even cursed yet so that meant Kenna was either biding her time or she wasn't even going to use the blood in the first place. She was making a point.

“I want my blood back, you shouldn't have it. It's not yours,” Heimdall took a step towards Kenna as she pulled out a small vial of the liquid, holding it up to the light. He stopped when Odin cleared his throat. It was a simple enough sound, but the silent warning was there.

“No,” Kenna said, hiding the vial back into her dress. “It's mine now. I earned it. Sleep with one eye open next time, Heimdall, and maybe your behaviour wont come back to bite you.”

Muninn chirped a noise that sounded like agreement as he landed on the desk next to her and Kenna rewarded the raven with an affectionate scratch.

“Heimdall, wait outside,” Odin instructed, waving him out the room.

Heimdall hesitated, looking between Kenna and Odin a few times before he finally did as he was told, closing the doors behind him on the way out.

“You keep bribing my birds I'm going to get jealous,” Odin began, moving towards Kenna, shooing Muninn away. He trapped her between himself and the table behind her, hands either side of her body on the wood. “Where's my affection?”

Kenna tilted her head away from him, looking off towards the wall. She wasn't going to fall for it. Not this time.

“You're mad at me,” Odin said with a sigh. Maybe he should've just stayed in bed for an extra hour. “Tell me what slight I committed against you then, Kenna.”

“I'm not mad at you,” Kenna grumbled, leaning further back as Odin leaned in to kiss her cheek. He could see she was fighting herself in the action. She wanted to touch him but was holding out. “I'm mad at Heimdall and I'm not letting you sweet talk me into giving you the blood.”

“Oh, well, are you actually going to use the blood against him?” Odin asked with a single raised brow. He already knew the answer, but hearing it from her own mouth would assure him she was still acting within her own nature and not going against him.

Kenna looked back towards Odin out the corner of her eye. There she was. She was beautiful even in all her fury, something about that dark pettiness in her so easily stoked into a flame.

“No.” She said with a shrug. “The threat that I can use it is better than any short lived curse I can inflict on him.”

“That's my Kenna.”

She let him kiss her this time before he pulled away. He didn't go far, leaning on the table next to her, their fingers touching as they splay behind them on the wood.

“Heimdall,” Odin called out to bring him back into the room.

Heimdall re-entered the study, glaring at Kenna before he turned his full attention to Odin. He stopped, an arm raised to his chest, and bowed.

“After careful consideration, I have decided that Kenna earned the blood fair and square but she will apologize for attacking you in your sleep since that was not a polite thing to do. Smart, but not polite,” Odin said inclining his head towards her with a sharp look of encouragement.

“I'm sorry Heimdall, I acted without honour in my anger, forgive me,” Kenna said, copying the bow of respect that Heimdall had given Odin. She did her best to make it seem sincere but Odin could read in her eyes how she really felt—Heimdall could too.

Heimdall opened his mouth to protest but Odin beat him to it.

“Do you question my judgement, Heimdall?” Voice was sharp as he spoke and Odin pushed away from the table to step towards Heimdall. Instantly Heimdall lowered his head. “Perhaps next time you'll keep your room door locked so this loophole of yours wont be exploited in the future. You was lucky that it was Kenna, someone whom I love and trust who pointed this out, and not an assassin in the night trying to weaken us. Really you should be thanking her for this information. Be better. I expect better. Dismissed.”

Heimdall shrunk away, gaze flickering around the room as he tried to school his expression into something acceptable.

“Yes... All-Father,” Heimdall said and with a small disismissive wave of Odin's hand he left the room in a hurry. He stole one last fiery look towards Kenna before shutting the door behind him on the way out.

With that, all attention turned back to Kenna.

“Do not do that again,” Odin ordered. “I know, I know, you have your difficulties with Heimdall, but please I implore you Kenna to maintain your composure. I expect better of you, too.-” Kenna scowled at him but Odin had already anticipated it “-No don't give me that expression. You have better things to be focussing on than petty squabbles. Now, I have given you leeway in this, don't be difficult with me now. I don't deserve that after what I just did.”

Kenna's expression fell, the proud body language she had collapsing in on itself. She sighed, her shoulders and head dropping with the exhale.

“Yes, Odin. I will not do that again. You are right. I was being petty. I'm sorry, ” She said.

Odin stepped up to her, tilting her head back up to look at him with a smile of approval.

“Good, now, tell me have you learned anything new about the mask?”

[snailsrneat]

Hello, i stumbled across your match up event and was wondering if i caould get one from you.

Well, for my looks I have Blonde hair that comes to my shoulders, my skin is an ivory colour, more pale cause ive been told i look like a ghost, i have green eyes and i stand about 5'5" tall, i dress either grunge or emo(as ive been told) and i look kinda gay(which im Panromantic).

My basic interest are Horror(Games, books, movies) and Art, and my specific ones are vegetation and Bugs(When ever i see these types of things in nature, i will stop and staire to look at its beauty)

How i would describe myself is that im one of those grumpy old men in the movies that turned bitter after he lost his wife and just wants to be left alone, im stand off-ish, im not a fan of people, and i prefer to stay inside by myself, i dont really trust people due to past experiences, though there are very few people that can break my shell, one of them being the person im in love with.

I would say my celebrity crush(well not really crush but i love his character) is charlie heaton, i dont know why, but im in love with his character from shut in(2016), Stephen was just*chefs kiss*, and also Jonathan Byers from Stranger things.

My Favourite drink is tea, mainly fruit or green, and favourite food is ice cream, though i find it disgusting when people sit there and just eat the whole carton.

My zodiac is Aquarius, and my MBTI is ISTP

Bye and have a good day/night!

You have been matched up with...

Kalim Al-Asim

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

Say it with me now everyone,

OPPISITES ATTRACT.

No but seriously Kalim is one of the most persistent little rays of fuckin' sunshine put there.

If you think for one second he isn't going to try his damn hardest to break you out of your shell you are dead wrong.

You guys go on nature walks all the time, and almost every single time one of you guys bring back some big ass bug.

Which, you know, Jamil hates.

Expect to forever be on Jamils shit-list cause of that.

If it wasn't for the bugs tho Jamil really mind your company in Scarabia.

Back to Kalim tho, he always tries to make you socialize with someone besides him.

Always ends up failing unfortunately, but baby steps are important.

He tried watching a horror movie with you once, never again.

He was haunted by night mares for a week.

But you guys love drawing together, occasionally using each other as references.

You guys probably met that way too.

You guys got sat next to each other and you just started drawing whilst listening to the lecture.

Kalim saw your beautiful artwork and couldn't help but bug you on how good it looked.

His presence made you really uncomfortable and he was eventually able to realize that after a couple meetings.

That's when he decided to take things slow.

He began to act much more chill and touchy when around you. Even going as far as to not show as much emotion when he got excited.

This eventually led to him gaining your trust after months work of effort and decided to confess his feelings to you.

Which you obviously accepted of course.

If I could give you guys a name I'd call you guys the opposite day couple.

[napkinmouse]

Lol

Character design is hard

Genshin recently released some creatures that look like a much better version of my fursona ideas I attempted to make in the past. It’s resurfaced a reoccurring issue I’ve struggled with since I first started drawing, as a matter of fact. Every single one of my design is practically a 1 for 1 of something else, but ✨stylized✨. They are boring, simple, plain, and definitely plagiarized to some degree. When I do try to make something unique, it comes out looking half baked at best.

To add to insult to injury, it turns out that nobody really likes my fursona designs I’ve made for them. Well… I guess that’s not entirely accurate. They only like it because I made it and it’s a “neat” design. Not because they actually relate to it in any way, which defeats the whole fucking point. Never mind that I spent months trying to figure out which type of animal would most accurately depict by using years of observing their mannerisms. Quite literally losing sleep over it thanks to it being a hyperfixation until I figured it out. Which, to be fair to them, is understandable since my designs are all shit anyways ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ one of them is literally just a stuffed animal I saw and put it in a dress, and another is basically a recolored version of a comic I used to read, which because of the colors I chose gets mistaken for Fluttershy. Not a *single* one of my friends actually relates to them despite all the effort I put in.

Then again, I guess I did do that on purpose to a degree. I chose these creatures after careful deliberation, and not so much preference. For example: I have a friend who LOVES raccoons, but I personally think a rat suits him better. Raccoons are round, slow, gluttonous, a bit of a goblin, bot overall pretty chill. ….he, however, is none of those things. He is highly intelligent, nervous, *needs* routine, and is uncomfortable with breaking away from patterns. He needs tests and has a very reward centric personality, or at least a huge fear of failure. But, can still be soft and sweet, albeit a bit always, It reminds me of a lab rat.

I like the challenge of trying to figure something out from a psychological perspective more so than what I think is cool. I also like the idea of using something I’m not super into as a way of learning to love aspects myself. Otherwise, I would have chosen a fox. I was obsessed with them for a long time. So much so that my “fursona” as a kid was Renamon for a long time. Because I’m an unoriginal hack. However, foxes have a lot of symbolism that I don’t really have. They also don’t share visual features or personality traits with me. Except maybe the weird screaming. If I were a fox, it would no longer be “me” anymore. I would be cool, for one thing. Ha ha

All in all, I think I’m just gonna stop trying. My fursonas are shit. They always have been. Designing them is upsetting because I hate how basic all my designs are. I should just stick with people. Especially since the hard work amounts to nothing and doesn’t matter anyways, so I’m just gonna give up on this aspect and stop trying to do something that clearly isn’t working. I’ll just stick to making boring ass fanart sketches with 2/3rds profile headshot.

[bogwitchlesbian]

I am just vibing in absolute chaos with my aria harrington headcanons right now. She’s such a fucking mess and I love her.

Just imagining the dichotomy between her and Steve is so funny. Like Ik everyone sees “oh twins they must be so similar” and everyone in Hawkin’s expects the same.

But where Steve is preppy and awkward, and still trying his best to leave his bitchiness in the past, aria is loud, dresses like stevie knicks crossed with someone’s (my) metalhead Dad from the 90s, and can, will, and has yelled at old people in melvads for literally turning their nose up when they see her

She refuses to hang out with the party after she sees how shittily they treat Steve. She spends an hour and a half yelling at them one evening for constantly treating him like an idiot and taking him for granted.

She refuses to be in a room with Nancy or Jonathan, and is only on amiable terms with robin after robin apologised for constantly bringing up Steve’s behaviour in high school and promised she would stop putting him on trial for shit she claims she’s over.

Max thinks she’s fantastic, and Steve is a little worried that she’s subsituting aria for billy, since they are worryingly similar in some ways, but they haven’t heard max laughing in a very long time, and if aria can do that then Steve is content to leave it be, even if the laugh is the result of a snarky comment about mike under arias breath.

Steve and arias dad doesn’t come home the entire time that aria is in Hawkin’s, until their grandfather dies, and they all have to go to the will reading. Aria is the only female grandchild, and her numerous cousins have always assumed that they will be the ones to inherit due to their Italian grandfathers rather traditional beliefs, despite aria and Steve’s father being the eldest of his siblings, and aria being the older twin.

When the will is read, aria is sitting uncomfortably in a black suit in their nonno’s “drawing room” in his fancy townhouse in Indianapolis. Steve is stood behind her chair, keeping glaring eye contact with their father who refuses to acknowledge aria.

The lawyer reads the will, and it all plays out much like that one scene from Knives Out. Aria inherits everything, completely bypassing her father, who was written out of the will the moment he abandoned aria and took Steve.

The room is silent for all of five seconds, and then there is uproar. The Male cousins are screaming about how unfair it is that aria now owns all the properties in America and Europe, including many of their homes, their businesses, and their debts. Aria sits and cackles with completely unhinged laughter while everyone screams at her.

Steve is silent, and simply guides aria out of the house and into the car, where she laughs all the way home.

When they arrive back in loch Nora, it is clear that the kids have let themselves into the house to host dnd that week. They all fall silent as a hysterical aria is led into the house and placed on the couch by a visibly gobsmacked Steve.

She sobers after five minutes, and takes Steve’s hand as he stands next to her. She looks up at him, concerned that he is going to hate her now, but Steve just squeezes her hand and tells her that this is exactly what she, and the rest of the family deserve. And they both start laughing again.

Mr Harrington follows them home and tries to force his way into the house, but aria rips the door open as he’s slamming into it with Steve’s bat pointed directly into his face. She informs him, politely, albiet with a rather crazed grin, that she has absolutely no issue going back to prison, but considering she just inherited her father’s incredibly successful law firm, she’s pretty sure she could get away with it this time.

Mr Harrington wisely backs off to his car, but demands his possessions, and so aria agrees, and starts throwing all his designer clothes out of the window onto the lawn like a scorned wife. Steve is laughing his ass off at his father’s increasingly red face as he stands on the porch drinking his father’s expensive whiskey straight from the bottle.

The party have never seen Steve like this before, and decide silently and unanimously to stay the fuck out of it.

Aria flies down the stairs and begins throwing her armful of her stepmothers foul smelling expensive perfumes at the car where she’s stood crying and clearly drunk.

Once they’re all gone, Steve slams and bolts the door, and they run hand in hand up to their father’s study and proceed to drink as much of his expensive liquor as they can handle without actually dying.

Steve and aria are both different after the will is read. Steve branches out in his clothing choices, aria smiles more, The house gets redecorated, and they both seem immensely happier to be self sufficient and not depending on their father anymore.

And that’s the end of today’s ramble lmao I cannot wait to think up more about my deeply problematic angel aria.

[crispy-sand-gator]

genuinely tired of fujos being so fucking creepy and putting guy characters in maid dresses

[simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair]

HOT THINGS HAIKYUU BOYS DO

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#genre: Uh idek… fluff I guess with a dribble of sex appeal.

#includes: many boys

#Warning: none , there’s nothing explicit just suggestive

#Note: This was supposed to be straight up just innocent PG shit but I can’t help myself so there’s a sprinkle of 12A :) so Minors proceed with caution

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Ushijima: Watching this man drive is better than sex. When reversing he’s got his arm around the back of your seat and his head turned back so you can see the sharp angle of his jaw. He turns the wheel with one palm, and you find yourself getting lost in the way the rings on his fingers accentuate the veins in his hands, the only thing that snaps you out of it is his other hand squeezing your thigh and him turning to ask if you’re okay.

Kuroo: The smirk. This cocky bastard knows what it does to you. It’s a slow sly smirk with low lidded eyes and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he watches you get flustered. To make things worse he’ll slowly walk towards you while looking you up and down and put the back of his hand on your cheek and make a comment about how hot you feel, “I didn’t know I affected you this much kitten” he’ll lowly chuckle and you’ll swat his hand away while telling him to shut up.

Osamu: Whenever he’s behind you he’ll place his hands on your waist and squeeze then chuckle when you jump. He just loves having his hands on you and having you close to him at all times. He’ll slowly snake his arm around your waist and pull you to his side so you’re flush against him, often your back flush with his chest so he can easily lean down and whisper in your ear.

Akashi: This man is so in love with you. Hates and I mean hates when people talk over you, like the audacity! Will glare at them not so subtly, so they can get the hint and be quiet and then look over at you with the softest look in his eyes and tell you to continue with a little smile because he wants you to know that he’s always listening to you and that he cares.

Sakusa: After a long grueling work out, he’ll stretch so he’s not so sore the next day and you find your eyes glued to all of him. He’ll lift his arms up and spread them wide so the bottom of his shirt lifts a little so you can just make out his abs and happy trail. You find your eyes following the path of his happy trail until his voice snaps you out of your daze, “What you looking at?” “uuuh… nothing” busted. He’ll look at you weirdly and then just shrug but what ends up killing you is when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brows and you get a full look at his toned, sculpted chest and stomach. You walk off to start a cold shower.

Bokuto: He always finds his fingers running through his hair because he can never style it right and will pout while looking at you, but you’re too busy enjoying the view of his tousled hair and beefy arms that flex every time his hands run through his hair. Will ask you if it looks okay but you’ll lie and say it needs to be fixed a little more just so you can watch his biceps stretch the fabric of his shirt, “Can’t you just do it for me babe…babe?” “wh-what?”

Diachi: Daddy Diachi. Every time he wears a suit, he always rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up, so you get an eyeful of his tan arms that are adorned with a Rolex and the veins that snake up his arms. Will loosen his tie and unbutton a few of the top buttons which draws your eyes to his chest, his chest that looks so tight and uncomfortable in that shirt that you just want to do him a favour and unbutton every button and peel it off his back. But that’s for his case, you’re doing him the favour…it’s definitely not for your benefit.

Suna: Eye contact. The king of maintaining eye contact and it always throws you off because it never falters and if it does it’s so his eyes can flicker down to your lips then straight back to your eyes. Will always subtly smirk when you stutter or trip over your words and will lowly tell you to “take your time princess, I’m all ears”. However, when he’s not teasing you, he’ll have the softest look in his eyes as he listens to you talk because your voice is like a prayer, washing his sins away.

Meian: *Profusely starts sweating*. When he’s sitting down, he’ll lean his head back and let out a low groan. His whole neck will be exposed, and your eyes follow his Adams apple as it bobs and you mentally trace his jawline. He’ll be breathing all heavy which takes your mind to a not so holy place, and you’ll physically have to shake yourself out of it. But what you can’t see is his soft smirk and little lip bite as he watches you get all hot and bothered, that’s the whole reason he does it ;)

 ༺♡༻ Honorary mentions:

Iwaizumi man spreads and has his hands slowly rubbing the length of his thighs (that Chris Evans video). Oikawa will repost all your posts to his socials and hype you up and brag to everyone how lucky he is. Tsukishima, now with him it’s not something he does but it’s just ✨him✨… he smells so fucking good, without fail he will have heads turning and the other boys asking him what he wears, and he’ll just throw them a cocky smirk and tell them it’s his “natural scent” (it’s his brothers cologne lmao). Kita has a habit of saying your name when he talks to you, will just slip it in there randomly and will catch you off guard but for some reason it’s just so hot.

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REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED

 ;)

© property of simpforanyanimeguywithdarkhair

[erodasfishtacos]

#HendallReunited

prompt: request was to write broad but to write something angsty

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: language, sexual content, angst

Harry always had issues with saying ‘no’ to people. He never quite grew out of his manners even when he should have.

He said ‘yes’ to way too many things- signing autographs for rude fans and paparazzi, and agreed to way too many things Jeff suggested.

Saying yes to everything didn’t make his life any easier is the thing. Especially when it came to his wife. She was usually left with the aftermath of him being too nice.

The media painted Y/N in a negative light occasionally and so did the fans because she would stand up for Harry and not let him say ‘yes’ to every single request.

She would tell disrespectful fans he’s not signing autographs because of the way they were screaming and interrupting his work.

Harry wished he could do it himself - admired that his wife didn’t give a fuck what people thought about her. He cared entirely too much what the world would think.

The couple didn’t fight about much - no, not really. Normal couple stuff for the most part. But this was the exception, this is where Y/N found most of their turmoil.

Every few months it would rear it’s ugly head and they’d find themselves in the same position over and over again.

This time - it was really fucking bad.

The couple had been staying in their Los Angeles home for the last few months whilst the singer finalized his album and began promotion.

It was boring meeting among boring lunch outings to get all their ducks in a row. Jeff - his manager the main orchestrator.

He was a great manager and a good friend, but it was also business too which Harry didn’t always comprehend.

At the end of the day, Harry was making Jeff millions upon millions of dollars. But Harry didn’t think that way.

**

Harry was in a stuffy conference room at the The Late Late Show to work on the script and ideas for the show. Promo had been nonstop.

He was a bit tired as it was nearly just hitting eight in the morning and he had been up late with you - having some late night loving in the hot tub.

“As for guest - Kendall Jenner,” James Corden’s producer states. All the men agree but Harry is taken aback.

“Why...why would we have my ex-girlfriend as one of my guests?” Harry interrupts, confusion knitting his brows.

Kendall and him didn’t end on a bad note - not at all. They hooked up a few times after their ‘break-up’ but once he’d met Y/N she was understanding when he cut it off.

Y/N wasn’t necessarily jealous of the model, but didn’t love when they’d run into each other at events. She was still overtly flirty with Harry without much shame. 

Harry also didn’t have an desire to see her or host her as a guest on the show. She was nice but he wasn’t interested in being friends with her. They didn’t have much in common and he was head over heels for his wife.

“The media will eat it up, dude. Harry Styles and Kendall Jenner reunited on a show after four years?” Jeff smiles, the others nodding in amicable agreement.

This is one of this times where Harry needs to say “no,” that it’s disrespectful to his significant other to use an old flame for promo for his album.

He already knows ‘hendall’ will be trending within minutes and he can’t imagine how that would make his parter feel.

“I just...this doesn’t seem like a good idea?” Harry begins hesitantly, making it sound more like a question than a statement. 

“Why not?” Eric, one of the writers asks.

“Y’know, I’m married. I don’t think m’missus would appreciate if I did somethin’ like that just for promotion,” he states, scratching at his jaw uncomfortably.

“Look Styles, we’re not asking you to fuck the girl. It just a interview, c’mon,” The executive producer gruffs - wanting those guaranteed views.

Harry swallows - looking at his manager and then at everyone else at the table looking at him for an affirmative answer.

“Uh-sure,” Harry fumbles, feeling anxiety rise into his throat. Fuck, he’s such a god damn pushover.

He’s trying to find his voice to go back on his agreement but the meeting wrapping up and people are leaving with final handshakes.

**

Harry doesn’t know how to tell Y/N what is going on. He’d been keeping in stored in the back of his mind, not ready to have a blowout.

He never found the perfect time to bring it up and now it was too late. It was the morning of the show and he was due to be at the rehearsals this afternoon.

Harry had finally decided he was going to tell her this morning over coffee but forgot that she had a girl’s day planned with a few friends.

She was already out to breakfast with them when he woke up. His phone had one text from you.

Hi baby. I’m out with the girls. See you at the show tonight. I’ll meet you there around six! Love you!

He was fucked royally and he had no one to blame but himself. Maybe it’d be okay, maybe she’d roll her eyes and tell him he’s an idiot.

Realistically he knew that was just a sweet dream at this point.

—

Harry was fidgety and kept mucking up his lines during rehearsal as it got closer to the showtime and his missus arriving.

Kendall had arrived for hair and makeup without seeing her ex-boyfriend yet. He dreaded seeing the model.

Kendall and Y/N had met a few times at different events. It was always cordial. Kendall was always casual - their relationship was never more than a couple fun dates and sex.

They were kind to each other when they met but he couldn’t deny how much harder his partner kissed him on the mouth afterwards.

Before he know it, his wife is hugging him from behind as he talks to a producer about which cameras to look at.

Y/N noticed the way he tensed up at first and thought about how unusual that was for him. Normally, he’d lean back into her with his full weight causing them both to stumble and laugh.

He slowly, cautiously turns around and his face  relaxes a little bit but not completely. “Hi baby,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss.

“You look so handsome,” she replies, admiring his brown pinstriped suit and her pearl necklace that he’d snagged awhile back. She thought it looked better on him anyways.

“You look even better, s’fuckin’ pretty, love,” he gushes, coming back in for another kiss - a little too sensual for the setting.

She was donned in a cropped white shirt, showing of the smooth expanse of her tummy. An oversized blazer of Harry’s, ripped jeans, and heels. 

Harry thought fleetingly he couldn’t wait to fuck her after the show. Then remembered that mostly wouldn’t happen.

Reggie, the musical lead, slides up to you two. He smiles wide at you, saying, “Can’t believe you agreed to the guest this evening.”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, Harry’s raise nearly to his forehead, but when she opens her mouth to ask him to explain they’re interrupted.

“Harry!” The leggy model trots over to the little group. Dressed in an interesting one-piece suit that has sewn in heels. She looked beautiful as ever, of course she was a model.

Both of them turn towards the oblivious girl, “Kendall,” Harry replies with a twinge of anxiety - eyes repeatedly looking at his significant other’s profile as multiple emotions flash.

“Hiya, you’re Y/N right?” Kendall smiles kindly, offering her manicured hand.

She accepts, “Yeah, uh-good to see you again.”

Harry knew she had connected the dots quickly in her head. The hurt, confusion, had hit her eyes before narrowing into full-blown rage at her partner.

“I promise I’ll go easy on him,” Kendall jokes before pinching at Harry’s cheek teasingly. The model was a natural flirt with everyone she got along with.

“Oh, sure,” she replies lamely, attempting to not let her feelings burst out in that moment with her husband . She knew it wasn’t Kendall’s fault.

“I’m going to go grab a bite to eat. I’m probably gonna puke when we do ‘spill or fill’. See you guys soon,” the model waves before trailing off with her assistant.

“Did you kn- of course you knew she was your guest,” Y/N seethes, turning to fully face the guilt-stricken-singer.

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I did.”

“How long have you known for?” She demands to know, keeping her voice at an angry whisper to not draw attention.

Harry wasn’t going to lie to his love, “About two weeks.”

Y/N replies with a laugh, “let me guess, you let Jeffrey talk you into this bullshit, again.”

His silence is all she needs to know it’s true.

“For Christ’s sake, of course,” She huffs bitterly, “what’s even worse is you didn’t fucking tell me. What the fuck?”

Harry bites his lip, not able to rasp out anything but a pathetic, “m’sorry, love.”

He wasn’t usually good at taking responsibility during a fight. He was stubborn at best but he couldn’t deny his way out of this.

“You will be, you-“

They were cut off by the staff, the audience was trailing in and Harry needed to get mic’d up now.

“This conversation isn’t over,” she points her finger at his chest before storming off to the side of the stage where she’d watch from.

Fucking shit.

**

Harry was a performer. It’s easy for him to push things to the back of his mind so he can entertain a enamored audience.

But tonight, he was struggling. Eyes flicking over to the teleprompter more than usual, his demeanor not as vivid and carefree.

Not when his wife was glaring daggers at him from stage right. Her hand constantly at her mouth, biting at her nails - a nervous tick of hers.

“Next up, the one, the only, the beautiful model and one of my good friends, Kendall Jenner!” Harry introduces when she walks out and waves at the crowd.

They hug and when they pull apart they step over to where they were playing the game. Either answer the question or eat a nasty food picked out by the other.

They weren’t allowed to see each other’s questions before the game started- both going on blind which put Harry more on edge.

“Okay, Kendall. Rank the members of One Direction on most to least attractive or you will be eating...” Harry spins the table, “Cow tongue.”

She flinched at the disgusting plate, smirking up at Harry before considering her course of action, “I think I can answer this one.”

He wasn’t looking forward to her answer. Neither was Y/N by the way she nearly shaking her foot off her leg.

“Okay, I got this. You - the most attractive, then uh- Zayn....Louis...Niall...Liam,” she laughs, “but all of you are hot!”

Harry fake laughs and acts like he’s impressed by her answer as the crowd roars and cheers. 

When Kendall picks up her notecard - she laughs in surprise at the question before looking at him with bright eyes.

“Okay, um, bull penis!” She giggles before starting the question, “I’m dying to know this answer. So...your first album HS1 was released four years ago, correct?”

He nods, apprehensive.

“Which songs were about me? Especially was only angel?” She laughs at Harry’s pale expression before without another thought he shovels the rancid food into his mouth.

Harry looks off to the side to see that his missus is no longer sitting there. Just Jeff - who gives him a thumbs up.

**

The first thing he did when the show ended and the lights dimmed was bolt off to Jeff - ignoring Kendall who was about to say something to him.

“Where’d Y/N go?”

He thought she might have went out to get a breathe of fresh air but for the next hour and a half he hasn’t seen her once.

“She said she wasn’t feeling very good. She told me to tell you she’d meet you at home,” Jeff shrugs unbothered.

“Damnit!” Harry curses loudly, ripping out of the microphone and the little pack in his back waistband.

“Harry,” Jeff scolds at his unprofessionalism that was abnormal for him.

“No! Don’t fucking ever ask me to do shit like this again. You fucking knew what questions were on those notecards and you said it wasn’t anything about our previous relationship.”

“Harry-“

“Don’t fucking talk to me. You’re a real shit manager sometimes, you know that? Do not contact me tonight or tomorrow for that matter, you douchebag,” Harry barks before storming off towards the dressing rooms.

All the employees were standing around in shock, staring at the popstar as he ignored everyone around him.

Harry was famously known for being a kind, amicable guy. So it took everyone by surprise to hear him speak like that. Even Jeff was shaken up a little.

—

The house was pitch-black as Harry pulled up. The house’s first floor was lined with large, bay windows and not a single light was on.

He could find one room illuminated which was your bedroom. A dim side lamp must have been flicked on. He imagined her purposely turning off all the lights on the trek up the staircase.

Harry didn’t want to admit how much he was trembling with awful nerves and anticipation as he slowly turns the knob of the shared bedroom.

Y/N wasn’t laying in bed as he expected but found the bathroom door shut tightly. He noticed a little yellow bag with tissue paper off to the side by a dresser.

He knocks on the oak door, not daring to enter without permission.

“What do you want?” Y/N answers, tone flat and emotionless. 

“Can I come in, baby? Please...” He wasn’t ashamed to beg for forgiveness at this point. Hearing the emptiness in her tone scared him shitless.

“I really could care less,” She replies coldly from her spot in the scalding water decorated with bubbles.

Harry had never felt more unsure in his life as he enters the bathroom.  Y/N had gotten proper pissed at him or vice versa before - right before a concert, an award ceremony but she’d never left without him.

Her head was laying against the foam headrest and her body was covered by the soap water. She looked tired and her eyes were puffy from crying.

Harry kneels next to the tub, “look at me, please pet.”

 Y/N takes a moment before turning her head and opening her eyes. They were distant, disappointed in the man in front of her.

“I should have told you about Kendall. I should have put up more of a fight to get someone else on instead,” Harry admits, his hands desperately wanting to reach out for her.

She shakes her head with a heart-wrenching sniffle, “it’s not just tonight, Harry. We’ve had this conversation continuously for three and a half fucking years. You try to please everyone, despite them giving no fucks about you.”

“Are you that much of a pushover? You let your ex-girlfriend flirt with you in front of millions. Do you know how embarrassing and unfair that it to me?” She wipes at her eyes to stop the tears spilling over.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that - to be honest. But he agrees, it wasn’t fair and downright cruel to do that to her.

What? All because he couldn’t say ‘no’ because he didn’t want people to be mad at him? It was pathetic and ridiculous.

“I-I won’t let it happen again, lovie. I mean it, I truly do,” Harry whimpers reaching over to cup her cheek and wants to cry when she pushes him away.

“You’re a broken record. You’ve said that a million times before but don’t change,”  Y/N points out, eyes boring furiously into his wife’s.

“I’m goi-“

She cuts him off with a sharp edge in her tone, “Just leave me alone, get out.”

The man’s face crumbles and for a second, she wants to just end the fight and makeup but then nothing would change.

“Baby-“

“Get out!” She finally bellows, tears streaming down her face steadily.

He obliges, head hung in defeat as he closes the door behind him. He stands there’s blankly for a second before going to the walk-in closet.

He’s pulling out a fresh pair of cotton underwear and a large sleepshirt for his partner, laying them neatly on the bed.

Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits so he pulls out his phone to mindlessly scroll.

He throws it against the wall when he sees #hendallreunited is trending number one on Twitter at the moment.

The singer strips down to his briefs and sits with his back against the tufted headboard, staring blankly at the wall.

His eyes catch a neon pink pair of his swimshorts tossed carelessly on the decorative vase in the corner of the room from the night before .

“Fuck, baby - no need to rush,” Harry groans into Y/N ‘s mouth as she pushes him until he’s sat on the edge of their California king.

She reaches impatiently for the tie on his neon pink swimshorts and yanks them off his slim, peach-fuzz thighs before throwing them onto the vase without a care that it was worth over twenty-thousand pounds.

After edging her in the hot tub with his fingers and mouth, she wasn’t waiting any longer before clambering onto his lap, pulling her swim bottoms to the side, and sinking onto him.

He felt guilty when his cock twitched at the thought of it. But when reality set back in, the arousal with the memory evaporated.

It isn’t much longer until the door is pulled open and  Y/N’s padding into the room with a towel secured around her.

She looks at the clothes Harry set out for her and pointedly walks past them to pick out her own nightwear. 

That really shouldn’t make his eyes tear up as he watches her slide on a similar pair of panties and an oversized shirt. Spotting a purpling bruise on her upper in thigh from his mouth.

 Y/N silently walks past the bed and to the bedroom door, looking back before bleakly stating, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”

He frowns, wrinkles appearing on his forehead, “You can sleep in here, love. I’ll take the guest room.”

Harry doesn’t get a reply as she just shakes her head and closes the door loudly behind her. 

It’s just - he’s never seen her this upset. She was usually fantastic at communicating her feelings and hashing things out.

She wasn’t one for the silent treatment or ignoring the topic. It had his chest rising faster than usual with anxiety. The serious of it overwhelming him.

He states at the wall for a very long time without wiping the fat tears brimming over his trembling lips.

*

He couldn’t sleep - it was half past three and he hadn’t even laid down or clicked off the lamp.

Harry accepted sleep wasn’t coming so he begins to tidy the already clean room. He picks up the shorts and tossing them in the hamper.

He refolds some joggers he’d carelessly shoved in a drawer and when he went to move the little yellow bag - curiosity got the best of him.

There was no card and he wasn’t sure who it was for or if it had been a gift already give to Y/N that she had returned home with.

Harry really shouldn’t - but he does. Gently tugging out the paper and reaching in to feel fabric.

Pulling it out, it takes him a minute to identify what it is - two baby onesie. Who was having a baby?

He lays them in front of him, eyes widening in surprise as he reads what is printed across the black cotton.

The first one was the colors and font of his upcoming tour merch with the photo he used on his tour announcement with the heeled boot and white pants.

Love on Tour - Due Date: September 2025

With Special Guest Appearance from Baby Styles

The second one was simple and read across the chest:

I’m having your baby (and it is your business) with embroidered kiwis all of over it.

He frantically reached back into the bag to pull out a bundle of pregnancy tests tied with a silk bow.

They weren’t necessarily trying for a baby but they’re weren’t not trying either. Harry wanted a baby as soon as his missus was willing to give him one.

“No, no, don’t one,” she’d whined into his mouth when he’d reached over to grab a condom off the nightstand.

“Oh sweet thing, you want me bare? Fill you up?” He croons happily, coming back to grip at his thick base and tease at her entrance.

“Ye-yeah, H. Please,” (Y/N) whimpers, bucking her hips in the hope he’d slip inside her.

Harry hums, “Might give you a baby though, y’want me to knock you up?”

“Want it, wan-“

He cuts her off with a hard, blissful kiss as he thrusts all the way inside before pulling out to do it again. 

“Gonna give it to you, whatever you want, lovie,” he promises.

The two had never used protection afterwards. It had start about seven months ago and from his knowledge she’d still been getting her periods regularly.

Occasionally, he would palm at her flat tummy and pout, “Haven’t put a baby in you yet, ‘ave I?”

He was so ecstatic but disappointed in himself for ruining everything and pleasing everyone other than who he should be.

Harry needed to fix this. He didn’t want Y/N to lose the excitement of having their baby over a dumb choice of his.

The man’s out of the room and not knocking before entering their guest room. His now pregnant love is laying on-top of the covers.

One hand subconsciously on her belly - which she removes and places next to her when her wife walks in.

The television was on but the volume was low and Y/N wasn’t watching it in the first place anyways.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, “I opened the yellow bag.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a little taken aback. she was going to surprise him tonight and forgot to store it away for another time after the fight.

Harry has happy tears dribbling down his cheeks, “you’re having my baby?”

Y/N nods, running a slight hand through his curls. She still had a nasty knot of anger and uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.

It pains her, wanting to share this moment of excitement with Harry but she just couldn’t. The uncertainty of whether Harry would put everybody’s needs before his own baby.

“Come back to bed, want t’talk and celebrate. M’so bloody excited,” Harry murmurs, a large smile decorating his face as he smooths a palm over the expanse of her tummy.

His wife shakes her head and places a hand over his, feeling the cold metal of all of them. “I want to be left alone.”

The twinkle in Harry’s eye diminishes to devastation as he realizes that he’s fucked up so badly that she doesn’t even want to celebrate.

“Pet, can...we just forget about it tonight and be happy ‘bout the baby?” Harry asks selfishly, knowing it was unlikely she’d agree.

She didn’t, a firm expression on her face, “no, I have a lot to think about.”

“Like wha’?” He asks anxiously, unknowing of quite the reason she was so furious.

“Like how you say yes to everything and everyone. We talk and talk about how you need to say ‘no’ and do what’s best for you - for us. You agree to and never follow through”

She takes a shaky breath and continues, “it’s affected our relationship before when you’ve had to cancel our vacation away from all this for a charity concert you’d agree to perform at last minute, dinner reservations because you told your friend we’d be at their art showing they wanted you at.”

Harry knew she was right. He did those things. He wanted everyone to be happy with him - to a fault.

“Tonight was just icing on the cake, you allowed your manager to talk you into hosting your ex on that show. Out of all the people in the world - her. With flirty questions and jabs from her. You let that happen. You care about making everyone happy but in return you don’t care how it affects me. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I’m...I’m really fucking scared you’ll do that even when we have the baby. I need you to put them first and right now...I’m not sure if you’re going to. You can’t put the person you want to spend the rest of your life with first now, how do I know you’ll do it with the baby?”

Harry chokes out a sob as he presses his forehead against the bed, his broad shoulders shaking. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried this hard - years ago maybe. He felt like his wife didn’t have any faith in him and he was to blame.

He looks up at her with swollen eyes - at a loss for what to do or say. He loved her so much and was over the moon that they were going to have a baby.

“How do I fix this, darling? You’re right, I really fucked up. M’sorry,” Harry cries, grabbing at her hands and she allows it.

“Just saying you’re sorry won’t fix it,” Y/N replies flatly, letting Harry squeeze and kiss at the backs of her hands.

“Then what do I bloody do to fix this?” Harry raises his voice in frustration, staring in bewilderment at his wife. 

Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “Do not raise your voice at me, Harry. Actions speak louder than words.”

Harry swallows harshly, pressing one finally kiss to her hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She repeats.

“I love you, I’ll fix this,” he promises with conviction. He knew what he needed to do and do it tomorrow. So he and his wife could enjoy her new pregnancy.

“I need space tonight, I just...please”Y/N says quietly, rubbing at his shoulder.

It wasn’t the first time they’ve slept in separate rooms because they weren’t getting along but they normally found their way back to each other before sunrise.

Harry nods, lip still tremble with the residual anxiety of the conversation. She allows him to press a soft kiss to her mouth before leaving the room.

—-

Cafe Habana was busy - but no one was paying much attention to Harry and Jeff. It was the morning after and Harry had demanded a meeting over breakfast with his manager.

“Y/N pregnant,” Harry states bluntly after their drinks arrive.

“Oh? Congratulations, dude. That’s exciting!” Jeff leans over to pat him on the shoulder, a big smile.

“The baby is due in September. My next tour starts in next July. The baby will be about nine months. I want to be at home with them for the first year.”

Jeff doesn’t look pleased, “what are you getting at Harry?”

“Reschedule the July and August tour dates. Tack them on to the end of the tour,” Harry lays out flat. 

He hadn’t talk to his wife about this but he knew this was how he could prove that he could say ‘no’ and not be a pushover.

“No Harry. Look I get you’re excited about the baby - but that will be such a fucking hassle,” Jeff frowns, sipping his mimosa.

“I’m not asking, Jeff. I’m telling you that’s what needs to happen,” Harry replies firmly, tone strong and unwavering.

Jeff is definitely taken aback by his client’s conviction. 

“While we’re on the topic, do not ever put me in a situation like you did yesterday. It affected my wife and I. And I will choose her over this career any day.”

The manager nods in surprise, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking for an apology but if you ever pull something like then I’ll be looking for a new management team. Are we clear?” 

Jeff once again nods, unsure of where this is coming from but at the thought of losing his biggest client would be disastrous so he’d do whatever to accommodate him.

“Consider it done,” he tells Harry before clearing his throat in a slight panic.

—

Y/N woke up to an empty house. She was restless, she asked Harry to prove to her that he could be what she needed. However, it was a bit unfair because she didn’t know how he could do it.

It’s just…she had a baby to think about. They both needed to be put first and if it took a gnarly fight for Harry to realize it...so be it.

“Baby? Love, where are you?” She hears Harry echo through the whole house. She was sat in the kitchen, on a stool by the island, idly sorting through mail.

“In here!”

Harry jogs in, panting like he sprinted from the garage up to the kitchen. He comes to stand in front of the love of his life.

“I might have not completely fixed everything but...I tried,” Harry tells her, cradling her face in his large palms. “ I just got back from lunch with Jeff. I told him about the baby.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I rescheduled tour dates so I can be with you guys at home in London for the first year. Then...maybe you guys can join me after?”

“Harry…” she’s at a loss for words.

“And I told Jeff that if he ever puts me in a situation like that again, I’m firing him.”

Y/N stares at him, in awe and admiration of the man she chose to marry and keep forever. His face was so sincere and vulnerable.

Harry didn’t know whether it would be enough. If it wasn’t he’d keep trying but all he could do was hope. He waited with bated breath as she processed his words.

“Baby, you-for me?” She murmurs as she stands up and crowds into his space. He instantly wraps her up into a tight hug, missing her touch.

“Of course, pet. I’d do anything for you, I mean it. I’d quit this whole career if you wanted tha’,” he tells her truthfully - lips brushing her forehead.

“I love you, so so much,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“We’re havin’ a baby,'' Harry sighs dreamily into her mouth, tongue sliding against hers. A large hand came to palm at her belly.

“Yeah, m‘having your baby,” She giggles as he begins to trail the kisses down her jaw and neck - pressing her into the marble countertop.

“Should we name it Kiwi?” Harry rasps as he slides the tank top strap off her shoulder so his lips can meet the cap of her warm shoulder.

“We are not going to be that celebrity couple who names their baby something weird,” Y/N groans as he grounds his hips into hers with intent.

THE END