#are they wearing anything under that blanket? up to you

[eddieswritinghell]

Headcanons: How they treat you when you're tired

141 & König with reader

Price:

Absolutely tucks you into bed.

Could be his bed, could be your own, but there definitely a bed getting tucked.

Once you're warm and cozy, Price will bring you your favorite warm drink (bonus points if you both like the same kind of tea).

If he doesn't have anything else to do for the day, he'll gladly stay and cuddle with you.

The man's probably tired himself from the day and any extra time spent with you is well worth it.

If he needs to go back to work, he'd at least stay around until he made sure you were asleep.

Price would run his fingers across your hair and smile at your relaxed face.

He treasures how much you trust him in these moments.

Gaz:

You might be tired and he might not be, buthe's making a movie night out of it regardless.

He knows you'll end up falling asleep regardless, but he secretly likes it when you do because you always manage to end up on him in some way (lap/shoulder/etc.)

He'll make you both popcorn and if he's feel extra special, he'll have already gathered some snacks you can both share.

Gaz will hold you tightly and rub your shoulders as you burrito'ed in your blanket while the laptop playing a movie is sat on Gaz's lap.

You'll be fighting off sleep for a good half an hour before Gaz's yawning makes you feel even more tired.

Neither of you makes it through the movie before you're curled into each other's arms and fast asleep.

Ghost:

He's seemingly always constantly busy and you often think he doesn't have a lot of tike for you.

He'd want to give you more of his time, but he considered himself married to his work.

However, you've both come up with a solution for when you're both feeling tired.

Ghost had bought a little lap desk that he could use on the bed so that the both of you could lay side by side.

Careful maneuvering allowed you to curl into his side as he worked on the final pieces of his paperwork for that period.

You'd fall asleep and a few hours after Ghost would have his work finished.

Placing the lap desk on the floor, being careful not the wake you, he would flip over toward you and pull you into his arms.

You could feel the faint traces of his fingers running along your facial features which allowed you to fall into a deeper slumber.

Soap:

He absolutely blabbers you to sleep.

You'll both be cuddled up in bed, him asking sure the covers don't show any skin besides the faces of you both.

He'll tell you stories, either stories he has created throughout the day or stories he had witnessed or had a part in.

He enjoys story telling, but it takes him quite some time to master the quietness of nighttime story telling.

He could still get a but excited at time with his stories, but he mostly kept it under wraps.

Eventually, long after you had fallen asleep, he would wear himself out to be tired right along with you.

He'd press a kiss to your forehead right before he succumbed to sleep, squirm his way further into the blankets, and curl himself around you.

König:

If there's a bath, there's a bath to be had.

Gets all the best smelling stuff even if he's not a huge fan of it.

He knows you like it, so he'll deal with it for your sake.

It probably grows on him because those scents remind him of you.

He isn't a huge bath person himself, but he'd gladly join you if you wished for him to.

König would carefully massage your back and shoulders while cleaning you off.

Presses kisses into your water-warmed skin in spots he knows are ticklish or that make you a touch squirmy.

He'd dry you off and dress you in your favorite pj's, making sure you were comfortable.

As soon as he'd make sure you were comfortable in bed, he'd join you.

As always, requests are open :)

[writingdevil]

hi!! :3 ouh for the writing request, if you dont mind, how about smitten and opportunist? i like them as a ship but you can do them platonically too if you prefer 👍👍

(I think they'd be such a good ship!The one who manipulates and lies meets the world's most unabashedly passionate and loving person in the world!I think Opportunist wouldn't be able to help but fall for Smitten's words of love, and that Smitten would find Opportunist's attempts to charm and suck up to him adorable!Anyways, enjoy!)

"How do I look?"

"Absolutely beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Opportunist smiled at the way Smitten's feathers puffed up under his praise.Smitten had been complaining about the state of his feathers, and Opportunist had so graciously offered to preen him, and Smitten had been nothing but grateful.

They were currently sitting on Smitten's bed, and Opportunist's eyes were taking in every inch of the room-not that it was very shocking or useful.

Smitten kept his room at a really weird halfway point between messy and clean.He had handwritten poems and emotional letters strewn all around his desk and windowsill, but the entire area around his bed was spotless, not a stray feather to be seen. It was as if Smitten was trying to look as put together and as perfect as he felt was needed, but his passions and intense bursts of love spilled out into his room. It looked like he was trying to impress someone, but that someone was also making Smitten express himself in the most chaotic way possible.

Opportunist didn't mind it, really.It was nice to be allowed to peer inside the private rooms of his flockmates-most of the others didn't trust him inside their bedrooms, but Opportunist thought they were being overly cautious.He wasn't going to back stab them or anything-just look at him and Smitten!He's been preening his wings for half an hour, and Smitten didn't have a hole in his back yet. He'd say that was all the evidence the others needed.

Smitten hummed lowly as Opportunist straightened a feather that was awkwardly poking out, and the sound made a low heat form in his chest.He wondered if Smitten would keep making sounds like that if he showed him how good at preening Opportunist was.

Opportunist wasn't sure why he even offered to preen Smitten, besides the fact that Smitten was incredibly kind and was never mean or distrusting to Opportunist once.It was just-nice to not have to work so hard to please others.Smitten was so easy to convince that Opportunist was genuinely sweet and innocent, so he never had to perform that much for him.In a weird way, this was the closest thing Opportunist could call a break for himself, to not use one of his many masks so much, even if he was still wearing one.

Smitten just made everything feel lighter-not as important, and Opportunist really liked that.

Opportunist smiled, leaning back to inspect his handiwork."All done!"he announced, and Smitten straightened up, glancing over his shoulder to try and look down at his wings."Really?Oh, thank you Oppy, you are a darling.You took such good care of my precious wings-what a sweetheart you are."

Those words went straight to Opportunist's head, covering his mind with a blanket of warmth he doesn't usually feel.He ducked his head and smiled softly, hoping Smitten didn't notice how his words were affecting him.It wasn't often that Opportunist got complimented, much less for something that he was doing honestly.

Smitten looked over his shoulder, and Opportunist was quick to replace his soft smile for a confident one."May I repay you for your kindness by preening your wings?"

Instinctively, Opportunist's wings tensed up and pressed up against his back.He tried to keep the panic and anxiety out of his voice as he chuckled and said,"Oh, you don't have to do that for me, Smitten."

But Smitten's voice was firm and determined as he responded with,"Yes, but you were kind enough to take some time out of your day to care for me.I'd like to return the favour."

Opportunist shook his head, going,"No need!It's what flockmates are for.Besides, my wings don't need to be preened."Opportunist spread out one wing for Smitten to see, showing the perfect condition they were in.

Opportunist would never let anybody preen his wings.It required too much trust and vulnerability on his part, to turn away from someone and show his back to them.Opportunist wasn't about to put himself in a position where all his feathers could be ripped out in a matter of moments.That's why he made sure to preen them every night by himself in the comfort and safety of his own room.

He felt Smitten slump in defeat as he looked at Opportunist's wings, and said,"They do look lovely right now.You clearly have a talent for taking care of things."

Despite how incorrect Smitten was, Opportunist still flushed at the compliment, quickly folding his wings behind his back so that Smitten didn't see how much his words affected him.

He knew that he needed to leave and compose himself, but Smitten unexpectedly sighed dramatically and leaned back against Opportunist's chest, putting all his weight against him and trapping him to the spot.

Opportunist froze, hands awkwardly hovering in the air, the feeling of Smitten pressed against him making his head spin.Had anyone ever casually leaned against him before?He knows Contrarian does it to anyone near him, but Opportunist wasn't sure if he's ever been a victim of it.

"U-Um-Smitten?Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine,"he replied calmly, lifting a hand in the air to gracefully wave Opportunist's concerns away, "I just wanted to rest with you.Is that alright?"

Was it?"I-I-I guess so."Opportunist was mentally kicking himself for stuttering like that.This was Smitten-there wasn't any way that this fanciful bird was a threat to him.He needed to calm down.

Smitten tilted his head back to meet his eyes, a soft smile on his face as he studied him for a few seconds, and Opportunist tried extremely hard to look as composed and as confident as he usually does.After a few seconds, Smitten hummed in that way he liked and said,"You are very handsome.Did you know that?"

Out went his composure.

"Excuse me?"he squeaked out, feeling his entire face heating up in a way that he knew he couldn't hide-and don't even get him started on his feathers!

He gulped, and laughed lightly, hoping to distract himself from the thumping of his heart.He looked away as he casually said,"What are you talking about?Smitten, you're the prettiest bird in this land. In fact, if you ask me, I think you're the real attraction of this flock by a long shot."He laughed again, hoping to get rid of these damn butterflies in his stomach.

Smitten just continued to silently gaze up at him for a few seconds, before Opportunist saw the moment that Smitten's eyes darkened.

He couldn't explain it-other than it looked like Smitten's face went from soft to sharp in an instant. The usual light twinkle in his eyes were replaced with a hungry and predatory glint that honestly scared Opportunist.

Smitten's voice was low and husky as he said,"You think I don't know the truth about you?"

"What?"Opportunist whispered, all confidence and bravado being ripped away at that voice, and all he could do was helplessly stare as Smitten straightened up to his full height, taller than Opportunist by a few inches.He still stared down at him over his shoulder as he said,"You think I can't feel your heart pounding against my back?"

Before Opportunist had even a chance to try and think about how to take control of this situation, Smitten suddenly twisted around and pushed Opportunist down on the bed, pinning his wrist above his head.

"Hey!Smitten,what's gotten into you?"he fearfully asked, the intensity of Smitten's gaze sending a shiver up his spine, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Smitten's smile was somehow still as charming as ever, as he leaned down closer to Opportunist to lowly say,"You can't hide your feelings from me.I know love when I see it, and I know exactly how people react to the things they love."

He leaned in closer, tilting his head slightly as he studied Opportunist, and said in a curious manner, "You, for example, simply love it when people give you attention.When we compliment you or touch you or even look at you for a certain amount of time, I can see the desire for more in your eyes. That's something you can never hide from me."

Opportunist had no idea who he was talking to anymore.This couldn't be Smitten, could it?No, Smitten was the one who loudly declared how he was feeling no matter how early it was.Smitten was the one who insisted on speaking and spending time with everyone almost every day.Smitten was soft and non-threatening, which was why he was always Opportunist's go to bird to speak to.

But was it actually because he liked it when Smitten touched him and complimented him?It was nice to be around Smitten, but he thought that it was because it was easy to be around him.

Smitten chuckled in amusement, moving to be inches away from Opportunist's lips."What a cute little devil you are,"he whispered, before crashing his lips against his.

Opportunist gasped at the intensity of Smitten as they kissed, his mind spinning with nothing but pleasure and a need to keep chasing it-and when Smitten invaded his mouth with his tongue, Opportunist moaned.

It was only made worse when Smitten kept sprinkling in sweet words in-between the kissing. Words such as-'So pretty', 'Gorgeous', and 'Good Oppy.'It erased any mask and performance from Opportunist's mind and left him falling apart, letting a sliver of truth come out-that Opportunist longed to feel like this, to feel wanted and adored for who he was.

They broke apart, panting while still pressing their bodies impossibly closer to each other.Smitten's eyes flicked off to the side for a split second, before he moved his hands up to intertwine them with Opportunist's, and his smile looked dashing and wicked at the same time as he said,"It looks like your wings need to be preened after all."

Opportunist gulped.

[angelsdean]

can't stop thinking abt this post by @soft-pine abt what dean would keep of emma's things to secretly carry with him and i am particularly broken up abt the idea of him keeping her locket necklace and her teddy bear (seen in her crib) and just oughhh. jewelry boy dean suddenly showing up wearing a locket like he used to wear the samulet. it becomes his own personal amulet. he refuses to take it off ever. sam can't say anything abt it, he can't even bear to look at it, is always averting his eyes and filled with shame and regret when he sees it. and i imagine inside the locket is a baby picture of emma. maybe there was once a picture of lydia too but dean took it out. and before he buried emma he put a lock of her hair in there too. and he wears that locket now to keep her close to him, close to his heart. imagine him later in purgatory, fighting for his life, and the locket glittering against his chest and swinging around as he slashes his way through a horde of monsters. and all the while he's asking "where's the angel" AND "where's the amazon girl?" and then benny being able to lead dean to both.

anyways got carried away with that train of thought but back to the other thing he keeps: her teddy bear. It's practically brand new and that breaks dean's heart in another way. she was literally only alive for three days. she barely got to use this teddy bear. yet for those three days she cuddled it each night. and now dean carries it with him, like the trenchcoat, from car to car throughout s7 and then the impala trunk until they find the bunker. and i imagine some nights in s7 he's sleeping in one of these stolen cars with the trenchcoat pillowed under his head and emma's teddy bear in his arms, the way he used to sometimes sleep with john's jacket as a blanket. it becomes a comfort object. he puts it on his bed in the bunker, right in the middle against his pillow. it's the first thing he does, actually. imagine the memory foam scene, his big smile at finally having a bed that remembers him, finally having a home, and his baby's teddy bear is right there next to him. oughhhh.

anyways our sentimental boy is always keeping things and holding on to them to remember those he's lost. i think especially with how he is abt keeping photos and looking at them the locket would really be a treasured item. it's the only photo he has of her. she's so tiny, just a baby. she has is nose, his lips, and his cheeks. he cries, privately, tracing the small photo with the pad of his finger, and remembers that she had tiny freckles too, but you can't see them in the picture. then he shuts the locket and clasps it back around his neck and gets back to work.

[dreaminonao3]

“I’m so incredibly proud of you.” - Charlastor

Bargaining (AO3)

He’d kept it together long enough to see the rebuilt hotel and show the others that he did survive, but the moment Alastor noticed that they had included his radio tower in the design, he collapsed.

*

He awoke in a bedroom that was both familiar and not. I see they did their best to recreate my room. It’s adequate, I suppose. The only thing missing was the bayou but that was to be expected – none of the others had the magical ability required. Alastor tried to rise to his elbows to get a better at the room but realized two things – he didn’t have the strength to do even that much and his chest wound was wrapped in bandages under a red pinstripe pajama top he knew he didn’t buy himself. A quick glance under the bedclothes confirmed he was also wearing the matching bottoms.

A chair pulled up beside the bed was the only other sign that someone else had been in the room. It was currently empty but the throw blanket tossed onto it was evidence of someone keeping vigil at his bedside. Rolling his eyes at the sentimentality, he tried once more to rise to his elbows only to collapse again.

“Are you always this stubborn?” Charlie asked from the doorway, her tone somewhere between fond and exasperated but closer to the latter.

Alastor eyed her with just as much exasperation and, he was reluctant to admit, even more fondness. “You’ve known me longer than two minutes and you still feel the need to ask that?”

She chuckled as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I convinced my dad to get the best doctor in the Sloth Ring to take care of your wound. She’s never seen anything like it.”

“Yes, well, I pride myself on being one of a kind,” he muttered.

“Al … you were dying,” Charlie said gently. “The wound was infected. The doctor tried everything but even she couldn’t help.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then how am I still alive?”

“I ... um…”

Alastor covered his eyes with one hand. “Charlie, please tell me you didn’t make a deal.”

“It wasn’t for my soul, just a promise, I swear!”

He moved his hand to uncover one eye. “With whom?”

“My dad.”

That confused him enough to remove his hand fully and try to sit up again. Charlie, apparently sensing a losing battle, helped him rise then arranged the pillows behind him. Once Alastor was settled again, he glared at her. “What, exactly, did you do?”

“I asked my dad to heal you.”

He winced at the thought of Lucifer holding this over him for the rest of eternity then he eyed her suspiciously. “In exchange for what?”

“Does it matter?” she asked evasively.

“OF COURSE IT MATTERS!” Alastor roared. It was only when she shrunk away that he calmed down. “Charlie, forgive me. Whatever you promised him, take it back – my life isn’t worth it.”

“Of course it is!” Charlie said vehemently. “You did exactly what I asked of you – you went toe-to-toe with Adam, a fucking angel, and you made a shield to protect the rest of us. I’m so incredibly proud of you, Al.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I failed.”

“You held out much longer than anyone else would have, and you did it for all of us.”

He looked away, saying quietly, “No, I did it for you.” After a moment, he looked back at her, sudden fear tying his stomach in knots but he did his best to hide it by being stern. “What did you promise, Charlie?” It was more of a command than a question.

She rolled her eyes. “My dad is being ridiculous.”

“Charlie…”

“He made me promise to never marry you, okay?”

There was an audible crack as his jaw dropped then he sputtered, “Wha- Why would he- That’s ridiculous! We’re not even-“

“I know! I tried to tell him but he’s convinced we’re in love.” Charlie closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, Al, you and I both know we’re not, so it’s no big deal, right?”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin spreading to something wicked. “Your father didn’t hold up his end of the bargain.”

She eyed him. “What do you mean?”

“He didn’t heal me.”

Charlie frowned in confusion. “He took away the infection.”

“Yes, but I’m obviously not healed,” Alastor said, gesturing to his bandaged chest.

“He said you’ll have to heal on your own.”

“But that wasn’t part of your deal, now, was it?”

She stared at him. “You’re right. Oh, that two-timing-”

He smirked. “As much as I hate your father, I suggest you not say anything about him that you’ll regret later. Simply point out to him that he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain so there’s no need for you to hold up yours.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Charlie said as she got up and headed for the door. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hall that he heard her say, “Wait, what?”

Alastor merely chuckled to himself. Lucifer saw something that simply wasn’t there but perhaps…

[warcats-cat]

Feathers 💜🪶

Summary: So, you found yourself dating an ancient Greek god. Who had now been gone for almost a month. Who you hadn’t actually ever gotten around to talking about your mental health…. Or your previous relationships…

A/N: PLEASE READ ALL TAGS. THIS IS BASED ON SOME VENTING I DID A WHILE AGO. PLEASE BE CAREFUL AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

Ok, this is the big one. Technically this is the first xReader I wrote before making this a "series", so it's going to be put at the top of the list here and on Ao3 but the fics can be read in any order. The reader in all of these is based on me, but I try to keep everything as gender neutral as possible for readability. I promise there is hurt/comfort and fluff in this, but its a but of a journey to get there. PLEASE if there are any tags you believe I missed, comment or message me and I will correct it if I can.

Of course, I have to give a HUGE thank-you to my beta reader @lickoutyourbrains (also on tumblr) for reading this one before I even thought of any of the others and encouraging me to keep going. The silly and sweet fics in this series would NOT exist without them <3 As always, thank you for reading and I do hope you enjoy this one. I hope it brings a little catharsis, like it did for me.

Read on Ao3 here!

-----

It had been a miserable week, to be perfectly honest. You laid in your little bed, the blankets haphazardly wrapped around you. Somehow, though the rest of your body was hot to the point of sweating, the blankets had managed to avoid covering your butt, and now said area was stinging cold under the breeze from the ceiling fan. You were still in your work uniform from yesterday. 

Yeah, a pretty miserable week. 

And you felt a little stupid, all things considered; you were miserable because your boyfriend had been gone almost a month. The Messenger of the gods was busy running errands because the egotistical bastards couldn't be bothered to have a meeting in the same damn room, but ‘something something treaties something something maintaining peace’ had pulled Hermes away from your side. 

It was only supposed to have been one week, but that had turned into a text message saying two, which had turned into another text message saying three. Two more days and it would be four, and Hermes had been so busy he hadn’t been able to say anything to you since two days ago. 

And unfortunately, you had a little secret from your lover. 

See, you’d been dating only about six months; you’d met when this random weirdo came into your workplace and commented on the necklace you were wearing. A little silver feather with some weird scratches down the shaft. You’d found it in a one-dollar jewelry bag at the thrift store, tarnished to hell, and taken some time to really clean it and polish it. The poor thing just needed some TLC, and it was good as new!

And then some random weirdo wearing sunglasses indoors shows up at your workplace the next day asking about it. 

“It’s just pretty, I guess,” you said, when he asked about the little feather. “Maybe it’ll bring me some good luck.” It was also fun to fidget with, just large enough to run your thumb across the delicately chiseled lines of the feather representing its fluff. Something you found yourself doing more and more throughout the day when customers began getting annoying or worse, abusive. 

And the weirdo had seemed content to just sit there. And watch you, and occasionally chat. All day…

The day after, the weirdo returned, and sat there next to your counter watching you again; this time glaring at the customers who were rude to you, which was nice at least. He brought up your necklace again; this time saying he thought it looked like real silver; probably worth loads more than you had initially paid for it. You got a little giddy at the thought of some extra spending money, fiddling with the little charm and chatting some more with him. And yet. He seemed to know something about it, something important, more so than its value. 

When he showed up for a third time and bugged you about it, you asked; and the man sighed and admitted his interest - it looked like one he had had a long time ago, right down to the scratches on the feather shaft. And in that moment, your heart felt a little heavy; something about the way he talked about it - maybe it had belonged to a family member or a close partner. You couldn’t see his eyes from the dumb sunglasses, but his voice sounded so wistful. 

Your mind was made up right then and there; money be damned, you didn’t want to let someone be sad when you could do something about it. You’d carefully undone the clasp and slipped the necklace off, and held it out to him. 

He hesitated at first; “And what do you want in return?” he asked. You shrugged. 

“I paid fifty cents for it. I’ll take the quarters if you have them.” he made a confused, disbelieving face at that. 

“I told you yesterday it was probably worth five-hundred. Or more.” he replied. You shrugged again.

“It means a lot to you, obviously. I don’t think you’re gonna just go and sell it. If it means that much to you, I want you to have it. Besides, I want a gumball.” you said simply. He chuckled at that, shaking his head and pulling two coins out of the bag at his side. Catching a glimpse, he had an awful lot of papers in there - why did guys just throw every scrap of paper into their bags instead of taking the extra ten seconds to put them in a folder or something --

Quarters in hand, you turned away from him to get back to work, and he left without you thinking any more of it, looking over his shoulder and saying “I’m Henry, by the way”. 

But a week later he came back, saying he had changed his mind, he wanted you to have the charm. Maybe it was good luck after all. And then every day you started looking forward to his visits. And then he asked if you wanted to get pizza one night after work, his treat. And then a few days later he brought you lunch from your favorite fast-food place. And then, and then, and then…

You’d known each other about two months before he asked you out; sitting on a bench outside at the park by your apartment, close together under the shade of a large tree. He asked if you wanted to see a magic trick, but he needed to borrow your necklace again. You handed it over as easily as you had the last time, and he smirked as he looked it over. It was hard to see his eyes; he’d initially told you he was a little photosensitive, hence the sunglasses all the time, but even then it seemed you could never quite see his eyes in full. Something always blocked the view. Still, you watched as he carefully studied the charm. He ran his fingernail down the side of the feather shaft, and quietly spoke, 

“It says Luckbringer. It’s Greek.” You leaned a little closer to look, but then smiled wryly.

“Is that your magic trick?” you asked, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own. He smirked, and huffed a little chuckle,

“No. This is. Don’t freak out.” he warned, before taking the bottom of the feather’s shaft between his index finger and thumb, and sliding up towards the tip. 

The feather did not remain silver. 

You couldn’t help the startled gasp as what was once a silver feather charm fluffed out and grew into a long white real feather, from barely two inches long to at least six! He was watching you, no longer smirking, and your eyes flicked between the feather and his face a few times before you started giggling from shock.

“What?” you asked, nervously laughing. 

He ran his index finger back down the feather, still bearing the now delicate-looking etches  that formed a more easily seen word, even if you couldn’t technically read it. Wordlessly, he handed you the feather, and you held it carefully, not unlike you would have held an unexploded bomb.

“How familiar are you with the old Greek pantheon?” He asked, faux-casually. You started laughing again.

“If you start sparkling or something I’m gonna lose it.” you replied. That brought a big, impish  grin to his face, and he finally pulled down the sunglasses, showing off almost totally white eyes, clear for you to see. You also noticed from the corner of your eye that his head had sprouted a little pair of wings…

So, you found yourself dating an ancient Greek god. 

Who had now been gone for almost a month.

Who you hadn’t actually ever gotten around to talking about your mental health…. Or your previous relationships…or lack thereof…

You shuffled in bed, adjusting the blankets to at least be off your chest so you could breathe. You felt hollow, exhausted, but you couldn’t sleep. Insecurities and Questions digging tiny thorns in your soul every moment. 

You’d never asked him why he’d asked you out. You weren’t really sure. 

The old stories of the gods were all about lust and glory and sex, and you weren’t really into all that. You loved the romance; the cuddling and kissing and spending time together. Holding hands was possibly your favorite activity ever. And Hermes had never pushed you; he was surprisingly chaste compared to most of his (and his father’s and siblings’) mythology. He was gentle and sweet, and eager to make you laugh. He walked you home from work almost every day, watched movies with you and snuggled tight against you every Friday, texted you during his own working trips as often as he could. 

But you were wondering when it would end. He’d seen the purple and gray button on your work backpack at least a hundred times, and you’d had that conversation at least twice; he knew he wasn’t going to get between your legs. You’d tried, once or twice, to get in the mood; but it just ended with awkward stammering and blushing scarlet red and a moderate amount of embarrassment. You didn’t want it. And he was a god.

So what the hell did he want with you?

Your coworkers, as wonderfully terrible as they were, had been weirdly eager to point this out; to tease you about the whole situation. 

“Oh, he’s going on a work trip, I don’t know how long he’ll be gone.” you had explained one day when Leslie asked where your ‘hot guy’ had gone off to. She’d half-covered a smirk, and asked faux-gently,

“Are you sure he’s just on a ‘work trip’?” she asked, air-quotes and all. You had shrugged her off at the time; rolled your eyes and put your focus back to the counter. But as you stood there, fiddling with the feather charm, her question itched in the back of your thoughts, despite your best efforts. 

This was your first relationship in a long time. You were pretty ordinary, all things considered. You didn’t think of yourself as ugly or anything so drastic, but you were pretty plain. Rounded cheeks and soft waist and comfortable tee shirts and all. Not someone likely to catch many people’s eye. 

And to the outside world, even not knowing who he actually was, Hermes was athletic. Toned, thin, muscular. A little wiry, definitely a runner. Plus, the messy, semi-wavy hair, the mysterious sunglasses covering his eyes all the time, and the fact that he had expensive fashion tastes even when trying to look casual. His ‘mortal disguise’ had that aura of ‘rich enough to not care.’

Trying to explain that to him had been a nightmare, but whatever. You loved him enough to ignore the occasional Hermès track suit, which he wore with the pun fully intended.

So you wondered, just a little. You brushed off the questions as they popped up in your head, but they started to stick around, nagging in the back of your mind. What was he staying with you for? What did he want that he didn’t already have in abundance? You tried not to let other people make comments on your relationship, but most of the store had gotten used to seeing him around almost every day, and were now wondering where ‘Henry’ had gone. And you were starting to wonder too.

He hadn’t taken anything with him; he didn’t often sleep over at your apartment, usually having to run errands in the middle of the night or go meet with other gods or nymphs or whatever other magical creatures you couldn't begin to fathom. He had a handful of times, though, and had left a few miscellaneous things around - some of the afore-mentioned expensive clothes were clean and neatly folded in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Some trinkets he had given you were scattered around on different surfaces. At one point, he had apparently swiped one of Apollo’s lyres and hidden it in your closet. There were a handful of pictures of the pair of you that you had printed out on fancy paper and hung up on the fridge. 

Lying in bed now, surrounded by the memories and beginning to drown in your self-loathing, your stomach churned. You hadn’t moved in at least 36 hours; you were probably dehydrated and you definitely hadn’t eaten anything. You would be alone when he left you; your parents long out of the picture as you had fended for yourself. You were an adult, and supposed to act like it, and they had decided they didn’t actually like the person you had grown into. Your friends were all work friends, and you didn’t spend a lot of time going out with people. Your life was a pattern of work and home and work again, unending. 

You were going to be alone. The realization started swirling around you like Charybdis swallowing sailors, dragging you deeper and deeper into the dark thoughts you’d  been fighting off for a week.

And who’s to say he wasn’t gone already? Cutting off text messages like a final cut to the cord - the things he left behind were meaningless to someone who could have literally anything they wanted at their fingertips. He knew you’d always been tight on cash and had rather too much pride, wanting to do and pay for things yourself; maybe all the expensive odds and ends were a last gift to help you along. Some of those clothes were worth over a thousand dollars.

Your whole life wasn’t even worth a thousand dollars.

You weren’t interesting to him anymore; he’d had his fun hanging out with a mortal, been denied the ultimate prize, and was now bored. He’d probably get a better time of it out of Leslie from work! You squirmed on the bed again, burying half of your face in the pillow, physically unable to cry. You’d have to go back to work tomorrow, the routine beginning again, and you knew you needed to do something at some point, but right now you just couldn’t move.

In and out of consciousness you floated a while, half-heartedly turning off an alarm reminding you to get dinner. You barely dreamed; trying desperately to think only about the good memories. 

“Y/N…”

Hermes’ arms wrapping around you, his hands brushing through your hair. His voice, saying your name. 

“Y/N…”

His face lighting up when he used to walk in and see you at the counter, bringing sandwiches to share at the little corner lunch table in the break room. Thirty minutes just the two of you together. Going for your favorite hot drink after a hard day. His voice, saying your name over and over again.

“Y/N I swear on Styx I’m gonna call my brother if you don’t answer me!” his voice, panicked?

“Huh?” you replied eloquently, and oh he actually was there, one hand delicately wound through your hair and lifting your head, and the other pressing two fingers firmly on the pulse point of your neck. His sunglasses were off, and this close, you could see the barest hint of a silver ring that marked where his irises were. You’d asked him about them, once or twice; being the god of travelers meant it was usually hard for people to focus on his eyes - something about mortals not always knowing the people around them and not paying attention or something. Your brain was a little sluggish at the moment. 

“Your eyes are my favorite,” you said, out loud; and his face turned up in a wry, almost fearful smile. 

“Awesome! I’m calling Apollo.” he said, leaning in and kissing you on your forehead before beginning to move away.

Panic shot through your body; the sudden release of adrenaline making you tremble as you moved to grab him, almost shouting, “No!” Don’t leave, not yet. Please.

Quickly, but weakly, your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he looked back at you, startled by the sudden outburst. He paused a moment, taking a deep breath of his own, and moved his wrist out of your grasp before taking your hand gently.  

“You need help,” he said softly, “My brother is an ass, but he’s also a healer. Let me get my phone. See? You can still see me.” He spoke like one would to a startled child or pet, placating and gentle, and you wanted to agree, but you couldn’t help the new burst of tears slipping out of your eyes as his hand left yours. He was telling the truth, of course. He’d dropped his messenger bag by the door to your room, it was barely five feet away. He walked slowly to the bag and retrieved his phone before returning to the bed, never leaving your line of sight. 

The next half hour(ish) was a little blurry. 

At some point, he picked you up (one handed, of course he could) and brought you out to the couch, settling you carefully in his lap with your head resting on his shoulder. You shuddered, feeling ten times more filthy against his pristine clothes, but he held you there with a firm hand on your arm, like a little treasure that he was protecting. His bag was slumped by your feet, and he was talking to presumably Apollo on the phone in his other hand. 

Against him, you began to relax; the adrenaline was wearing off, and your body and mind were both well past exhausted, giving in to the haze that led to unconsciousness. You only caught a few words of the conversation - ‘dehydrated’, ‘fever’, and ‘drugged’ being prominent. If you had been a little more aware, you would have protested the thought that you had taken anything, but as it was, you were just drifting in and out of sleep once more. 

At some point, someone held a glass to your mouth, and carefully coaxed you into drinking some water. It was amazing, probably the best water you’d ever had; probably because you hadn’t had any in 36 hours. You wondered if thirst affected water’s taste, and you would argue to the death that yes, water had a taste, and where it came from affected that taste.

And then there were two new hands on your face.

You’d met Apollo a few times since beginning your relationship with Hermes; the messenger god loved to be a nuisance to his older brother (actually, he loved being a nuisance to most people, being the god of mischief and all,) but they stayed surprisingly close. The god of the sun ran fairly hot, as to be expected, and his hands were warm against your face as he inspected you.

Gold eyes looked intently into (e/c), and the other god murmured to himself. He laid the back of his hand on your forehead. You soaked in the touch and care from both men, slowly becoming more and more aware of the apartment around you. Hermes' arms were holding you just a touch too tight, your feet were cold hanging off the couch, but they’d removed the oppressive blankets that had wrapped around your body and there was another glass of water nearby. 

You zeroed in on it, leaning back slightly to look up at your lover intending to ask him to loosen his hold. Both gods reacted to your movement.

“Are you back with us?” Apollo’s rich, slightly deeper baritone voice cleared the last of the fog, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, I think so…” you replied softly; all you had to do was turn towards the water glasses for Hermes to lean over and grab one, holding it up for you to drink once again. You were a little more embarrassed, this time, but Hermes was gentle in guiding you to drink the whole glass, and buried his nose in your greasy hair once you were finished. 

“What were you thinking?” his muffled voice was hitched, still full of worry. The question was genuine, not condescending. He was well and truly upset; your stomach churned again. You looked up at Apollo, who shrugged; “I think he means, ‘what was on your mind?”, he supplied, also unsure. Your shoulders hunched a bit, as if you could curl up and hide in your own skin right there in Hermes’ lap. You felt helpless, trying to think of an answer.

“I just…I don't know…” you started, after a minute, but couldn’t find the words. Your eyes burned from crying, your head was pounding, your body trembling from low blood sugar. You really wanted a third glass of water, possibly a fourth.

After a long period of silence, Apollo coughed to break the tension, first passing a hand over your hair affectionately, and then ruffling his brother’s much more roughly, leading Hermes to swat at the offending hand. “Good news is, they're not sick and not dying,” he emphasized the last word, as if teasing Hermes about his panic. You smiled a little, and the sun god took it as a win. “Go slowly with the water, because if you drink too much you could actually get sick, and try to eat something like toast or crackers before you move back up to real food. No work tomorrow.”

He winked, and handed you a slip of paper with a (fake?) doctor’s note. Of course he could just summon those. He flashed a sunny (pun intended!) smile; and gestured for you to call him, assumedly if you needed anything, before walking out the door and leaving in a bright flash. You and Hermes sat in silence another long while. 

You could have happily sat there for another six months, but his face was still buried in your unwashed hair, and his arms still wrapped around your sweat-soaked, presumably gross body, and you wanted to spare him at least a little of the nastiness of being with a mortal. 

“Let me up,” you said softly, wiggling in his grip. Instead, his hold tightened, and you realized with cold shock that his hands were trembling now. “C’mon, I’m sticky,” you tried again, your tone gentler; this time hearing him take a deep, settling breath. His arms loosened, but his head only moved over your shoulder. You twisted, trying to look at him, and you were startled to see him crying.

“I thought you were dead.” he spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, and the admission sent a chill down your spine. “I wanted to surprise you coming home, but you didn't reply to my message to pick you up. I called half a dozen times and didn’t get an answer. I knocked and you didn’t hear me. I had to pick the lock on your door just to get in, and you were laying there totally unresponsive. I thought something had happened.” 

In the time you had known him, Hermes hadn’t really cried. He teared up along with you at sappy movies, and he had tears in his eyes from laughing, but you hadn’t ever heard so much anguish in his voice until that moment. Your eyes became watery again, feeling so much of his emotion along with him; feeling the tiniest bit guilty, too, for making him worry, even if you hadn't meant to…

You distantly wondered just how many lovers he had lost whom he had wept for. How large a heart to break when a god mourned.

So, you came clean. You told him about your fears, the little horrible thoughts that came up in the night. You told him how you looked at yourself in the mirror and felt embarrassed for him, how you compared yourself to every other person around you. You cried and told him how you just felt like you had spiraled out of control so suddenly over the last week, worried he would never come back. You told him how you felt undeserving of him; how you felt that you couldn’t give him everything he desired, how your relationship looked fake or immature to others. 

He held you tight as you cried anew, both of you breathing heavily in tandem. You felt his heartbeat matching yours. His warm hands ran up and down your arm, soothing, and he placed little pecks and kisses over your forehead and cheeks. It was probably another hour of gross sobbing and soft murmurs of reassurance. 

Your body still felt dirty, but your soul felt clean. Minus the headache…

The pair of you dozed a bit after the outpour; at one point, he had gotten up and grabbed a few slices of toast and more water, but it was barely a flash of an instant before he was back and holding you again, feeding you little bites of toast and laughing at your half-joking attempts to bite his fingers. He called your manager at work and told them you were sick, and that was that. 

You slept a while, deeply and dreamlessly. It was almost sunset by the time you actually woke up, and this time, the two of you were tangled in your tiny apartment bed. But you were still in your nasty clothes, and at the thought, you attempted (for like the fifth time) to wiggle free of Hermes’ arms.

They tightened, once again.

“Okay, let me up for real,” you said, pushing lightly on his chest.

“No.” he said simply, pretending to still be asleep.

“I’m really gross, babe, I need a shower,” you pressed, and he huffed, frowning and finally opening his eyes. He stared at you a while, taking in the dried tears and red splotches of your face. (At least when gods wept they didn't have to deal with mucus…) He brought a hand up to rub one thumb gently across your cheek.

“I love you.” he said softly, earnestly. 

It wasn’t that you two hadn't said it before, but up to that point it felt like more of a crush; like the way two close friends said those words. This was honest. This was chase-away-your-nightmares and wipe-your-snotty-tears-clean. This was full stop, no room for doubt.

“I love you too,” you said, trying to convey the same genuine emotion. He sat up with you, leaning forward and giving you a kiss. “I’m sorry I scared you.” you said, looking into his eyes.

He sighed. “It isn’t your fault. I wish you’d told me some of this earlier, but it wasn’t all your fault.” he looked away from your face, thoughtful and sad.

“What do you mean?” you asked, now confused. 

“I hear a lot more than people think I do. I mean, obviously; several of my senses are a little heightened. But I've also just…learned to be more aware of what's happening around me. What people are saying, or not saying in some cases. I've heard the rude things those girls say about you, and the filthy things they say about me, and I haven't done anything. I see you as so much better than them, so far above them; like what they say wouldn't even touch you because they mean nothing.

“I just wish I had known you felt that way. I love you. I don’t want you to feel that ever again.” he looked right into your eyes, right into your soul, and you knew that hearing everything you had said had pained him as much as it had you. 

You started to apologize, but he quieted you with another kiss. “I’m upset with myself that I could let you think that. Yeah, our relationship is different from the ones I’ve had before, but I’m happy with you, okay? I’m happy when I spend time with you. I love just sitting together and watching movies and having dinner. I love going out and walking in the park or shopping at the craft thing you like.” you giggled a little, as he began to tease with his words and poke your ticklish spots with his nimble fingers. “I love that you're you. You’re kind and you have a big heart and you take care of everyone you can, regardless of whether they deserve it or if you even know them! You’re beautiful to me. And trust me, Aphrodite may keep up on human beauty standards but I really don’t care. You are enchanting to me.” he became serious, and tears came to your eyes again. 

After a beat, he continued, “I want to show you how much I love you. Do you trust me?” he asked, and that pit of worry in your stomach churned just a little bit but you pushed it away and nodded. You trusted him not to cross your boundaries, whatever he was planning. He smiled, and got up from the bed to root through your closet for a moment. 

From the bed, you could see the lyre still tucked into the back corner of the closet. You should probably give that back at some point. Maybe Apollo or Hermes would teach you to play it.

While you mused, Hermes had pulled out his prize - a bathing suit?

“Uh?” you asked eloquently. He smiled again, trying not to laugh. 

“Just put it on. Trust me.” 

After a minute of staring, waiting to hear the punchline of his joke and not getting one, you shooed him out of the bedroom and slipped out of your filthy clothes (considering just burning them instead of trying to wash them in the shitty washing machines in the complex’s basement) and into the colorful waterproof garment. 

You carefully avoided the mirror (you could deal with that later), and walked back out into the living room area, finding Hermes in his own swimming trunks. (You did take a minute to appreciate his bare chest before affirming that you were ready to do whatever it was.)

Carefully, he picked you up, holding you once again like a treasure, and spoke low in your ear, “Hold on tight.” 

His super speed (what else could you possibly call it) wasn’t foreign to you, but it was an experience you would have preferred to skip out on at that moment. Moving at mach one tended to make your ears ring, and no matter how secure you felt in his arms, the one time he’d taken you speeding over the top of the ocean was the last time you would be willing to do so. At least you didn’t get motion sick from it…

You would accept the flying. Not necessarily the running…

You had no idea where he was taking you, but it was only moments before you arrived. It was a little house, in the middle of the woods. Not creepy at all! 

He laughed when you said this to him, but walked up to the door with little care. “I’m borrowing this place from one of the lower gods for the night. Don’t worry, everything is clean and the servants aren’t staying. It’s just us.” he said. Several of these statements raised more questions, but oh well. 

It was a cute little place, and you heard the afore-mentioned servants wandering around and prepping something. You tried to get down, but Hermes only hummed and held you fast in his arms. Damn divine strength. He carried you down the beautifully decorated hallways towards what looked like the master bedroom, and certain enough, there was a person finishing up something in the bathroom there. Whoever they were gave a polite nod to the pair of you and left almost silently. 

Hermes paused in front of the bed, and asked again, almost as if he was nervous, “Do you trust me?” 

You didn’t have to think about it this time; “Yes, I do.” 

He smiled, and carried you into the bathroom. Inside was nothing short of opulent; it was a massive bathtub set mostly into the floor, with a bit of a lip to set things on, if the glasses of pink liquid and plate of cheese and grapes were anything to go by. Finally, he let you down, and gestured for you to get into the tub. 

The water was perfectly warm, soft and sweet smelling on your skin, and even just being touched by the water made you feel cleaner from sweat and grime. You sighed, almost involuntarily, in relief or pleasure or something in between. You couldn’t see, but Hermes was grinning behind you, happy to know the surprise would go over well. 

You looked up, expecting him to join you, but instead found him kneeling behind you. He must have seen the question on your face, because he smiled gently and gestured to another large pot of water and a cup. 

“When I was very young, I leaned more mortal than divine. I was sick a handful of times, though not nearly as often as fully mortal children. But I remember my mother made a point after the worst had passed that we would take a bath, wash the memories of sickness away. It always made me feel better.” As he told the story, he took cupfulls of water from the pot and eased you down, wetting your hair thoroughly. His fingers ran gently through your hair, over and over, passing first water and then shampoo, and then water again. You were surrounded by the smells of fresh lavender and mint, and laying there with your head in his careful hands felt almost hypnotic. 

At one point, he paused, and offered you a drink from the glass. You struggled not to spit it back out in shock - “Is this Gatorade??” you asked, a little hysterical. 

He laughed, that devious grin you loved so much returning to his face, and he exaggeratedly waved his hand, “My brother said you needed electrolytes and stuff! I thought you liked this flavor!” 

You snorted, and took another actual drink, “Yeah, but you had them set it out so fancy and I thought it was, like, champagne, or something!” Your laugh was hearty and genuine for the first time in a week. You supposed this was one of the hazards of dating the god of mischief. 

The giggles mostly subsided, and he went back to his washing - when done with your hair, he began to simply rub the tension from your shoulders and arms, surprisingly knowledgeable in how he massaged your muscles. You took deep breaths, feeling calm and more than a little sleepy, and he murmured words of love and care in your ears. You were half-asleep by the time it was over, and he woke you with an upside-down kiss on your forehead. 

A god just took the time to wash your hair. What universe was this?

He showed you how to drain the bathtub and helped you dry off with a fluffy towel, and then handed you a soft, new set of pajamas to change into; drying off himself and moving back into the bedroom to change into his own nightclothes which turned out to just be some loose cotton pants; allowing you plenty more time to enjoy the view. 

The bedroom had music playing softly from some unseen speaker; a lullaby swirling around and cradling you in its sound. You shared the platter of crackers and cheese, and you playfully fed him the grapes, posing like renaissance paintings for an imaginary camera. Finally, he wrapped you again in his arms, warm and soft and safe, and you felt whole and content. 

“I love you,” you whispered in the dark, cuddled up to him.

“I love you too,” he said with a last kiss, and you knew in your heart it was the truth.

[helmbarte]

Bf told me I had to post this, yet ANOTHER Dirk and Jake kissing in bed. I’m a simple man.

This time featuring what I think Dirks natural hair texture is. He would have to shave his head to get it back

[teddybeartoji]

going to the beach with toji and kids for the first time ever. it's only the beginning of your relationship, it's all kind of new – toji doesn't know what's about to hit him. sure, he's seen you with megumi and tsumiki before, but this? this is something else.

not only is his heart doing flips at the sight of the big smiles and the loud bursts of laughter you're managing to pull out of his kids, you're also wearing a fucking bikini. he hasn't seen this much of you before – the furthest you've gone during the late hours of the nights are steamy, handsy makeouts. he did take your shirt off the last time he had you below him but then you were interrupted by the little spiky haired boy, sniffling about a bad dream. after grabbing a blanket to cover you up, toji rested his forehead against your warm skin, grumbling something under his breath before looking up at you with soft eyes. you weren't mad – quite the opposite; you ruffled his hair and cradled his face, a gentle smile splayed on your lips. you pressed a haste kiss to his nose and then ushered him off of you, whispering something about his adorable son. toji scoffed. and smiled to himself.

the bikini. is killing him. he doesn't know what to do with himself. the scene playing in front of him is heart-warming and he should only be thinking about that, but how can he? the material is barely covering anything and you just look so... fucking good.

sitting in the shade, toji let's his head loll back, his eyes closing as he rests his hand over his face with a groan. he can't do it anymore. he's doing brain exercises to not pop the hardest boner of his life and you are not making it any easier when you keep giving him the prettiest smiles. you're happy, the kids are happy – everything should be good, but no – here he is, suffering because his parter looks fucking amazing. the fact that this is even a problem is mind-baffling to him. he is a strong man, no person is going to get to him just by being beauti—

"could you pass me the water, please?"

you're out to get him, he's sure of it.

toji peeks from under his hand and he's immediately blinded by a devil in disguise. the sun shines from behind you like a halo and the grin on your lips reaches behind your ears. sweat coats your skin and it makes toji's mouth salivate. what the fuck are you doing to him? hands on your hips, you stare down at your boyfriend and you give him another second to collect himself before quirking up a brow.

"toji?" you sound like a siren, you're pulling him in with your silky smooth tone. "the water, please?"

the corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile and toji has never moved faster in his entire life. "right."

he reaches for the bottle in the cooler beside him and gives it to you while making sure to look at you in the eyes and nowhere else. it's unbelievably hard – especially when the water starts trickling from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. toji gulps before turning to look at his kids instead. gumi's brows are furrowed as he's building his sandcastle while miki is busy building hers. toji cracks a grin.

"they're so– fucking cute." you whisper when you curse, a playful smile on your lips as you gush about the kids.

you love them so much already and you're glad that they seem to be liking you a lot too. that makes toji very happy; when the kids ask about you when they haven't seen you in a few days, when you do the same – he knows you really might be the one. it's a big thing to say, to even think, but he can't help it. it simply seems... right.

the water bottle hangs in front of his face and he's pulled away from his thoughts again. he goes to grab it and when he does, your free hand reaches out to him. warm finger wrap around his wrist and he melts at the soft, gentle touch. "come play with us."

a groan bubbles from his throat but it couldn't be any further from an annoyed one – you're sweet and you're excited, you're pretty and you're patient; you always welcome him and the kids with open arms and a bright smile. she would've loved you.

he throws the bottle aside and wraps his own hand around your own. "ya wanna play or the kids wanna play?"

his raspy voice and the stupidly handsome smirk he gives you make butterflies bloom and dance in your stomach. he makes you giddy, he makes you happy.

"i wanna play." you tug at him. "and the kids wanna play."

he can't say no to his little blessings and he can't say no to you. maybe running around will help clear his mind from the mischievious thoughts in his head. he doubts it, but he's needs to try.

in one swift move, he pulls your hand to his mouth while pretending to bite you and his eyes fucking twinkle when he sees your cute surprised expression and hears your little gasp. there's a moment, a second of the most comfortable silence before the corners of your lips twitch and you yank away from his hold, booking it towards gumi and miki with a loud cackle as toji pushes off the chair and takes off after you with fast steps.

your cheeks hurt from laughing as you watch toji catch megumi; he lifts gumi up with just one hand while tsumiki tries to poke her dad in the ribs in order for him to let boy go. when he finally lets the kids go... you feel his eyes on you. adrenaline pumps in your veins and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. you can't stop grinning. he can't either. a pair of arms wrap around your middle and your feet are being lifted up above the ground before you can even react.

while the kids are doubled over, running and stumbling over their own feet, toji growls in your ear. "gotcha."

you will take the next step today. no snotty kid of his will cockblock him again – they will be tired from the day and you will be all his to take care of. he'll show you his appreciation for being so good to him and the kids, for being so kind. and so... fucking hot.

he presses a kiss to your jaw but cringes when gumi and miki dramatically scream 'ew' at him. you feel him getting even warmer, his cheeks heating up and you try to save him by shooing the kids with a laugh. toji is grateful. he's happy that you're here.

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Gentle yandere boyfriend that loses his shit when you bring up the topic of BDSM in the bedroom

afab reader ; nsfw

He’s always been methodically perfect, gentle, the best boyfriend he could be. All roses, chocolates, blankets when you’re sick, romantic dates at the beach, that kinda thing. A stand up guy, really. So has he ever thought of tying you up before, leaving you sprawled under him at his mercy, bare naked and all? Of course not!

Well. Once, maybe. Or twice. Or all the time. 

When you bring up the topic of BDSM in the bedroom, he chokes on his drink and nearly dies. He would have never expected such a request from you, you’re such an innocent and vanilla-esque person after all. But he’d be lying if the thought of you under him, with nowhere to run, wasn’t exhilarating. It tickled his predator/prey drive, his need to dominate you in most aspects of your life.

The two of you do as you suggest that night. You’re bound, bare naked in only black thigh highs and a collar around your neck. He didn’t want you wearing a blindfold because he wants to see your eyes as he takes you. There’s no gag either as he wants to be able to hear you moan.

You look ravishing, plush ass out with your legs tied just for him. It takes everything in him not to ravage you whole right then and there. You can’t run from him now. Oh, how he imagined you like this so many times if things didn’t go his way. If you had rejected him, run away from him, broken up with him, anything like that. He’d probably keep you locked up in his room, ready for the taking just like this. 

The perfect, gentle boyfriend facade cracks in no time, and before you know it, he’s all over you, drilling into your cunt, biting your neck, touching you all over wherever he can. 

You always knew he could be a bit possessive, but this new change scared and excited you at the same time. You moan each time he thrusts into you, listening as he mutters, “Mine, mine, mine,” after every minute. You never felt so wanted before. 

[autism-disco]

i like when they change the time signature a lot it sounds nice (time is too late to have complex problems)

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3

[starkeysbunny]

something about you.

pairing - rafe cameron x kook!reader

summary - rafe and reader have been in a friends with benefits relationship for months now. it’s been slowly killing both of them, but they’re both too afraid to say anything. it gets to a point and rafe can’t take it anymore. he can’t stop thinking about you.

warnings - fluffy as hell literally throwing up it’s too sweet

my eyes were closed, my lips slightly parted as i let out a huff against my pillow. it was friday. rafe would usually text me on fridays. he’d ask me to come over, stressed out from work, a long week—whatever it was. i didn’t care.

he needed me.

it was friday, at eleven pm, radio silence. not a word from him. i felt a gnawing at my insides. this man had a grip on every fold of my brain. and we weren’t even together. it was pathetic. but i couldn’t stop.

if i couldn’t have more of him, i’d take this. being his for a couple hours a week. all his attention on me, like it was real. for a couple hours, i get to pretend it’s real.

i turn and stare at my ceiling, hoping i’ll hear my phone ping. i was getting tired. but if he texted, i’d go.

it’s pretty sad. i know. my friends have told me to get up, so many times. shake his hold. but i can’t. i’ll take any parts of him he’ll give me.

ping.

i practically fall over as i reach for my phone, frantically checking the notification.

rafe

hey.

hey? i huff, my head plopping against my pillow. another ping.

can you come over?

i stare at the message, taking a deep breath. it was nearly midnight. i should get up. i should say no. say i’m sick of the casual bullshit.

but soon, i find myself slipping my hoodie over my head, sliding into my uggs.

yeah.

is all i say. i didn’t need to say more. there was nothing more i could say. another ping.

i’ll pick you up. it’s late. don’t want you driving.

my eyebrows furrow. he’s gonna pick me up? he’s never done that.. it’s always the same routine. he texts me, i go over. and sometimes he makes me spend the night, whether i want to or not, because he doesn’t want me driving so late.

but he’s never picked me up.

i don’t say anything, heading to my living room and sitting on the couch in my empty apartment. i recently moved out of my parents, and i’d like to say it’s just a coincidence i moved into the complex only seven minutes from tannyhill.

it wasn’t.

my nails nervously pick at the hem of my hoodie as i wait. it was the longest seven minutes of my life. my mind kept racing. something about tonight felt different. he’s picking me up. and it’s so late. it’s usually never this late.

ping.

i’m here.

i swallow roughly and rub my eyes, standing up. i slide my phone into the pocket of my sleep shorts. the only sound in my quiet apartment is the shuffling of my slippers against the hardwood as i walk toward the door. i grab my keys and slide them into my other pocket, heading for the door. i lock it behind me and walk down the stairs, spotting the blaring headlights from rafe’s truck.

i walk towards it, shivering slightly from the cold air hitting my skin. i look up and see him get out, rounding the truck to the passenger side. he opens my door as i approach.

“hey.” i say softly.

he was in a hoodie and sweats, more relaxed from his usual appearance. which contained a white button up, usually unbuttoned by the time i see him, paired with some kind of dress pants.

“hey.” he whispers. his eyes drift down my appearance. “why’re you wearing shorts? it’s freezing, are you crazy?” he sighs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. his hand comes to the small of my back, not even allowing me to respond before he ushers me in his truck. he shuts the passenger door and rounds the vehicle again to his side.

he gets in, the engine humming as he starts it. he glances over at me and sighs, reaching his arm back to the backseat. he grabs a blanket, gently laying it out over my lap.

“nearly thirty fuckin’ degrees, and you’re sleepin’ in shorts.” he sighs, muttered under his breath.

i swallow roughly, looking down as his hands gently linger over the tops of my thighs as he lays down the blanket. “thanks.” i whisper.

“mhm.” he hums, his hands moving to grip the steering wheel as he peels out of the driveway.

the drive to his house was short, and quiet. the heater gently enveloped me, quickly changing my shivering form from earlier to warmth. my eyes stay looking out the window as i feel the occasional glances from rafe to my side. his eyes were like blades, puncturing into my skin at every glance with a sting.

i feel the truck come to a stop as we pull into the driveway. rafe had taken over tannyhill after his dad died, and sarah moved in with the pogues. so, it was always quiet here. sometimes i wonder if he brings anyone else over ever. or just me.

i watch as he gets out of the drivers seat, rounding the truck to my side. he sticks his hand out for me to grab as i step out of the truck. my hand fits in his warm palm, his hand cradling the small of my back as i step out.

i stand by his side as we walk up to the house. i look up at him, my eyes soft. “r-rafe..?”

“hm?” he hums as we approach the door, he fishes through his pockets for the keys.

“um.. are we…” i trail off.

he pauses as he finds the keys, his eyes flicking to me. his gaze runs over my face as he lets out a breath. “no.” he whispers.

so this was something else. i swallow roughly as i feel my stomach drop. was he ending things? i don’t say anything more and he opens the door, allowing me to walk in first

whenever i was in tannyhill, i felt out of place. it was a huge, beautiful mansion. but it carried a darkness to it. i could hardly imagine how rafe lived here alone. it would eat me up. just as i stand in the foyer, i feel small and inferior in the big space.

“hey.” he whispers. his voice snaps me out of my thoughts, his hand coming to the small of my back. i follow him as he guides me toward the living room. my eyes sift over the space and he guides us to a window seat, outfacing the backyard.

he sits and gestures his hand out for me to sit. i nervously pull my legs into my chest as i slip off my slippers.

“rafe.. why-why’d you text me?” i ask softly.

he leans back against the window with a soft sigh, his hand coming up to run over the stubble against his jaw. he chuckles softly, throwing his hands up. “been asking myself the same shit.” he sighs, looking over at me. he presses his lips together, his eyes wandering over me as he thinks. “i’ve been-“ he sighs. “i’ve been thinking.”

i furrow my eyebrows. “okay.. about..?” i ask softly.

he runs a hand over his face. “everything.” he whispers. “i-i’ve been really stressed.” he huffs. “cameron development, all that bullshit. i just have so much pressure on me, y’know?”

i nod gently. “yeah.” i whisper. “i-i get that. but rafe, you’re so much more than that.” sigh.

he chuckles, his tongue sticking to the inside of his cheek as he raises his eyebrows. he turns his gaze to look at me. “i appreciate that. you’re faith in me, i mean..” he trails off. “it’s nice. nobody else has it.”

my eyes narrow at him slightly. “well, i mean it, rafe.” i whisper softly, my hand gently coming to rest on his knee.

he looks down at my hand, letting out a sigh and leaning his head back against the window. he looks back at me, his gaze holding mine. but there’s something different about it this time. an intensity in his eyes i’d never seen before.

his hand comes to rest over my wrist, his thumb gently tracing in my skin. “y/n.. i-“ he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

my eyes blink up at him, my eyebrows knitted together softly. “yeah..?” i whisper.

he’s hesitant. like whatever he wants to say is stuck in a knot in his throat. he takes a deep breath, searching for the words. he swallows roughly. “look, i-i know i’m no good for you.” he whispers. “but there’s.. there’s somethin’ about you, just can’t fuckin’ get you outta my head.” he sighs and pauses before speaking his next words.

“i-i want us to be.. more. than just this. i-i can’t stop thinking about you, y/n.”

my stomach drops. my eyes widen slightly and my lips part. “i- what..?” i whisper, stunned.

he presses his lips together and i see the nerves bubble in his eyes. “i-i know we agreed to be friends with benefits and nothin’ more but-“ he runs his hand over his buzzed head, a satire chuckle escaping his lips. “i can’t fuckin’ do this shit, okay? i-i can’t keep texting you just to fuck and pretending you don’t mean fuckin’ everything to me. i can’t stand the thought of you being with other people i-“ he huffs, leaning back.

“‘m fucking obsessed with you, alright?” he whispers.

my eyes blink slowly, my lips parting. i couldn’t believe it. he felt the same way i did? every time he’d hold me after we’d hook up, a part of me hurt inside. knowing it was temporary. knowing, that i’d never really have him.

and that whole time—he was thinking the same thing.

“rafe, i-i want that too.” i whisper.

his eyes snap over to me, they scan over my features. almost trying to see if i was telling the truth. “really?” he whispers.

“yeah.” i say breathlessly. “i-i’ve wanted so much more. i was just scared that you didn’t. and that if i said anything, i’d lose you completely. so i was just.. settling for what i could get.”

he swallows roughly, his lips parting. his hand comes up to my cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin. “i wanna give you everything.” he whispers. “i-i don’t deserve you. i’m fucked up, and i get angry and i’m selfish. wanting you is probably the most selfish thing i’ve ever done. but i-i can’t get you out of my head.” he sighs softly, his hand gently cradling my face.

“i may be all of those things.” he whispers. “but i’m gonna work so damn hard to deserve you. i’m gonna be better, i wanna be better every time i’m near you, baby.”

i shake my head gently. “you don’t need to be better.”

he smiles softly. “this is what i’m talkin’ about. too sweet for your own good, baby.”

“so.. you wanna be.. real?” i ask softly, my voice cautious. “like.. official and exclusive?”

he grins, nodding softly. “mhm.” he hums. “want you to be my girl. just mine.”

i smile softly, my stomach swarming at his words. “yeah?”

he chuckles lowly. “yeah, sweetheart.”

i can’t help the grin that creeps up on my lips. i scoot closer, burying my face in his neck. “okay.” i whisper, my arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

his beefy arms immediately encapsulate me, holding my close. “yeah? you my girl, sweetheart?”

i grin, my cheeks heating up this words. “yeah, ‘m your girl.”

he grins, chuckling lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to my jaw. “‘m sorry i didn’t say anything sooner. made you think i was stringing you along.”

“no..” i shake my head softly. “‘m just glad i have you now.” i whisper. “in every way.”

he smiles, tugging me impossibly closer. “in every way.” he promises.

-

sickeningly sweet 🙂‍↕️ i’m a sucker for fluff srryyyy

[nanaslutt]

PLEASE write more of geto being a perv🙏🙏

“pt.1” here

Geto x reader, in showing you how sorry he is for being a creep<3

perv!geto is my obsession atm

contains: fem reader, non consensual photography (reader is kinda ok w it), pervy roomate!geto, crack, gojo makes an appearance, talk of gojo wanting reader, sexual tension, cunnilingus, masturbation(geto), degradation, soooooooo much dirty talk, sweet!geto at the end<3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

About a week ago you were watching a scary movie with geto on your laptop, drinks placed on the table next to it; dumbly.

So of course when the scariest jump scare you’ve ever seen in your life occurred, your legs jerked into the glass of liquid, spilling it all over your laptop and absolutely ruining it.

“God- Fuck! Noooo! nonono!” you shot up to grab a blanket, pillow, anything, to soak up the liquid, “TAKE YOUR SHIRT OF NOW,” you yelled in a panic to your dark haired roommate, who; you noticed throughout this entire excursion had barely moved a muscle to help, besides the muscles used to laugh at you.

“Babe I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that shit is beyond saving,” he laughed, placing his hand over his chest while he did.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, I use my laptop every single, and day I absolutely cannot afford to buy a new one right now.” you placed your head in your hands in defeat.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” geto said, at the end of his fit of giggles at your expense.

“Yeah right, ur broke as shit too, that’s why we’re living together.” you said, muffled into your legs as your body had now fully collapsed in on itself.

“Yeah ur right, but that kinda hurts my feelings,” he said, smirk showing through his faux pout, “thought you liked livin’ with me,”

The two of you bickered back and forth for a while. You ended up putting the laptop in a bag of rice; to no avail, it was completely ruined.

Geto had been nice enough to let you use his laptop in the meantime; only when he was with you though, which you found slightly weird but at least you had access to it to some degree.

Right now you had the house to yourself though. Satoru had picked him up half and hour ago, saying something about wanting to try some new coffee shop with word famous sweets; that meant you had free range of his laptop.

You knew how to clear search history, so you would be fine. You just wanted to watch a movie anyways, nothing criminal.

Sneaking into his room, you unplugged the silver electronic, sliding it under your arm as you took it back to your room. Placing the laptop on your bed and getting comfortable against your pillows, you cracked it open, You had accidentally seen him type in his password before, so getting in was no problem.

What was a problem is what was on the screen when the laptop came to life. An entire folder of up skirt panty shots; and not just anyone’s panty shots; they were yours.

Scrolling through the decently filled folder, you noticed ones that dated back months ago. You saw a picture of you laying on your bed, head in your hands while you kicked your feet behind you; the short skirt you were wearing gave geto the perfect view of your unobstructed ass, slight pink peaking between your cheeks.

Other too, you doing more mundane things like sitting on your knees on the barstool you had in the house, poking out your ass, once again giving that dark haired pervert the perfect shot of your clothed mound.

You were almost impressed at how many there were, and how make different angles he was able to get without your knowledge.

Trying to wrap your head around the idea that yes, your sweet roommate who has never attempted to come onto you once, had a secret folder filled with lewd photos of you.

Saving the file, you sent it to yourself. Once you heard the chime on your phone you quickly copied the link, and sent it to the culprit himself, no other message attached to it but the folder alone.

——

“Ummm ooh, I’ll also get the triple chocolate cream filled crepe cake please! What do you want suguru?” gojo chirped.

Geto started at him with disbelief, he had just ordered 5 full size deserts with the longest name he’d ever heard; all sounding like a stomach ache and a half; and they were all for himself.

“Right..uh, i’ll just get the vanilla scone and a black coffee please.” Geto politely spoke to the man taking his order.

Gojo continued conversing with the cashier, finishing up ordering any last minute items and paying.

Geto felt his phone buzz in his pants, checking it quickly while gojo finished up the interaction; both of them starting to walk to booth in the corner of the cafe.

Suguru’s heart sank to his balls when he opened your message. He knew you were mad too, because you didn’t say anything else other than a link to his private folder of your panty shots. “Fuuuuuuuuuck haha,” geto laughed, hand coming up to cover his smirk as they slid into the booth.

“Huh? let me see, what happened?” Gojo nosed, trying to peek over the table at geto’s phone when he noticed it was the source of his distress.

“I might have to sleep at your house tonight, maybe for the rest of my life I don’t know.” he said, hand dropping back into his lap as he shut his phone off.

“Did you forget to do your dishes or somethin’?” he asked, knowing how angry you got at Geto when he didn’t pick up after himself.

“Yeah maybe, or maybe my roommate just found the upskirt pics i’ve been taking of them for the past couple months.” he giggled, slight remorse in the back of his head. Not from doing it, but from being caught.

Gojo’s jaw dropped, covering his own mouth as he let out a boisterous laugh. “Hahaha oh man, you really are fucked.” the blonde slapped his own knee, “I’ll let you co-sign my lease tonight,” he said, scared that if suguru went home, he might actually get murdered.

Geto kicked satoru’s shin underneath the table, making him wince. Their giggles died down at geto’s misfortune after awhile. “So..” gojo started, “Yer’ gunna let me see the pics right?” he asked, “Already hurt you didn’t tell me about this,” he pouted,

“In your fucking dreams satoru,” geto snorted. He already saw the way gojo looked at you when he was over, always making passes at you and touching you any chance he got.

He would be damned if his bestfriend got his hands on you before he did. “WHAT???” gojo yelled a little too loud for the tiny space they were in, resulting in him getting shushed by geto, “pleaseeeee, I know how good you are at taking pictures I bet they’re soooo gooood.” gojo wined, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head against them.

“Keep dreaming satoru.” he laughed. The whine haired man kept his pouting up for awhile, calling Geto selfish and unfair, his sorrow immediately being forgot about when the massive tray of his deserts finally came out.

——

When you heard the front door to your shared apartment finally crack open open a couple hours later, you were in your bedroom.

His laptop had been tucked away in your bedside table in confiscation, while you awaited with a racing heart, for him to knock on your bedroom door.

You heard him place his keys on the table through the thin walls, then you hear his heavy footsteps as he starts to make his way to your room.

The air was still when the footsteps came to a stop in front of your door. You were feeling a lot less confident than you were before he got here, now the thought of confronting him made your mouth feel dry; heart beating out of your chest.

Finally, the knocks were being rapped on your door, you swear you died for a second when you heard his familiar voice call your name, followed by him asking politely if he could come in.

"Its open," you yelled back. When the wooden door creaked open and his frame came into view, you had to fight off all the neurons in your brain telling you to look away from his hooded eyes.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, the tension in the room was so thick it could be cut through with a knife. You had no idea why, but the current situation was admittedly arousing.

You stayed silent for a while, just staring at each other, neither one of you daring to break eye contact first, "So? What do you have to say for yourself?" you asked, voice coming out a lot less confident than you wanted.

"Im sorry." he replied, swallowing thickly, quickly sucking his lip into his mouth to wet it.

"You're sorry for what?" you asked clarifying, This wasn't going how you expected.

"I'm sorry for being a pervert and taking panty pics of my roommate." He said, taking a couple steps towards where you were sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Are you really sorry?" You asked, voice full of need, as you did your best to supress it, trying to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"So sorry" he answered, having made his way inches away from you, eye contact still not being broken. You both noticed how heavily you were breathing, his eyes flitting down to your lips for a second before he sucked his lip into his mouth again, and letting it slide out, dark eyes meeting yours again.

The only thing you heard was your heart beat loudly in your ears as you spoke your next words, "Show me how sorry you are."

----

"Mm so fucking sorry," geto's voice vibrated against your clit.

"F-fuck ohmygod," You moaned at the feeling of him wrapping his lips around the bud, tongue peeking through to flick at it.

"A-again-" you whined,

"'M sorry," he groaned, staring up at you with a smirk as he released your clit, flattening his tongue over the sensitive bud.

You were laid back, ass placed at the end of the bed, Geto was sitting back on his heels as he perched himself on the floor between your thighs, hand rapidly stoking over his throbbing cock.

"W-wipe that sm-ile off your face" you wined, trying to keep the little hold you had over geto.

He didnt stop smiling, but you could'nt tell when he burried his tongue inside your pussy, pressing his face hard into your wetness and shaking his head. His pointed nose rubbed your clit in the most delicious way when he did that.

"S-so fucking dirty" you chastised at how sloppily he was eating your cunt. He was trying to fuck his apology into your pussy with his tongue, really trying to prove how sorry he was.

Loud slurping noises bouncing off the walls and going straight to your head; and to his cock; making you both dizzy at the situation.

"Sorry I'm so nasty," he groaned, muffled by your folds as he tongue fucked you like his life depended on it.

Quickening the pace of his hand against his cock, he was squeezing it the same way your walls squeezed his tongue, trying to mimic the feeling. Pre was dripping steadily from his cock and onto the floor, leaving a little puddle there.

Geto was getting off on this so hard.

Every time you squeezed your thighs around his head and degraded him, his abs clenched, balls tightening with the need to blow his load.

"O-only thing youre good for is eating my pussy, f-fuck" you said meanly with a whimper, eyes dropping down to his handsome face and seeing how fucked out he looked from your words, as he nodded his head and moaned into you, agreeing with you.

He needed to you keep talking to him like that, to keep humping his face, suffocating him, treating him like a bitch, he needed it.

"Use me-" he cut himself off as he moved his mouth back up to your clit, making out with the little bud messily, "wanna show you how sorry I am." he drunkenly smiled at you.

You gripped his hair in a makeshift bun, rolling your hips against his face as he stuck his tongue out for you to get yoruself off on.

Groans of "mhm mhmm" could be heard from Geto between your legs, pumping his cock impossibly faster feeling your wetness gush out of you from his minstrations.

"Ohmygod feels so good- shit-" You wined, tipping your head back, feeling your orgasm build quicky as you rubbed against his tongue just right.

His chin was absolutely covered in your slick, pretty eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself get pushed towards the edge as well, abandoning his hand keeping your thigh spread to join his other between his legs. He massaged his balls between his fingers, increasing the pleasure he felt while you worked towards your end together.

"Fuck t-tell me your sorry again," you whimpered out, teetering on the edge of your orgasm, "Sorry" his deep voice immediately groaned out, cock throbbing when you yanked on his hair.

"Ag-ain" your moans broke up your speech,

"Sorry, m' sorry, sorry-" He kept babbling against your pussy, sending delicious vibrations through you.

You were feeling hotter at the strange power dynamic going on, using that to your advantage as he kept mumbling the word into you, sending you straight into the most mindblowing orgasm of your life.

"Coming f-uck fuck f-" your voice getting cut off as your stomach started contracting and jerking, you rode your high out on his tongue while he groaned a lengthy moan into you.

Behind where your vision was blocked by the bed, Geto was cumming all over his hand and the bottom of your comforter.

Geto's eyes repeatedly rolled back in his head, hand massaging his cum out of his balls as he stroked himself roughly through his orgasm.

Finally being able to breathe when you loosened your legs from their hold on his neck, dropping your hands from his hair as you laid back on the sheets. Geto's hands wet with his seed came up to massage your thighs, his head rasing from between them.

You both took a second to breathe heavily into the open air, your cunt as his cock alike twitching in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You felt his hold on you cease for a moment, a couple seconds later something was bouncing heavily next to your head. When you turned your head you were faced with a brand new, rose gold laptop, still in its packaging.

You looked back up at geto, who was now standing, running one of his damp hands through his hair, "If me eating your pussy didnt prove how sorry I am, I hope this will." He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Fuck, Geto are you serious?" you beamed, picking your limp body up from the sheets and holding the package in your hands, he smiled at you fondly, watching you tear it open like a kid on Christmas.

Peeling the plastic from the cardboard you spoke, "Still making you delete all those photos by the way," resulting in him tipping his head back in a loud groan of defeat.

[mssalo]

dirty old man - sleeping

In the quiet of the night, Joel can’t resist the temptation to have you just as you are - sleeping, warm, and all his to use. By morning, you’re eager to give back, slipping under the sheets to wake him up with your sweet mouth, proving that sometimes, the best dreams are the ones you wake up to.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, somnophilia, age gap, caretaker f!reader, Joel is a perverted old man (imagined age 60-70), reader in her 20s, DDLG dynamic, daddy kink, consensual somnophilia, intense possessiveness, penetrative sex, p in v sex, cuming inside, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, power dynamics, and themes of control, degradation, size difference, explicit sexual content, Joel having to pop some pills to keep up with reader bc hes an oldie

more dirty old man in masterlist

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It was the dead of night, and a profound stillness blanketed the world outside, making it feel as though you and Joel were the only two souls in existence.

He lay beside you, his warm body pressed against yours, a comforting presence that filled the space between you. His hand rested on your thigh under the covers, the gentle weight of it stirring a heat within you even in your deep slumber.

Hours had slipped by since you had drifted off, lost in dreams, while Joel remained wide awake, his thoughts consumed by a singular focus: you. Every gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, captivated him.

You had unknowingly spent the day teasing him, your playful glances and lingering touches igniting a simmering desire that he found impossible to ignore.

As he lay there, his dark eyes roamed over your peaceful face, memorizing every detail—the soft curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell across your forehead. So damn pretty.

It was a temptation that felt like a potent spell, pulling him closer to the edge of something he craved deeply. The urge to wake you, to make you aware of his need, pulsed through him, igniting a fire that flickered in the pit of his stomach.

With deliberate slowness, his fingers began to explore your thigh, inching higher, savoring the softness of your skin beneath his touch.

The intimacy of the moment was electric, every subtle movement charged with anticipation. He knew you were his, entirely and completely, and the thrill of that realization made his heart race. The way you teased him without even knowing it had awakened a hunger in him, one that demanded to be satisfied.

Tonight, there would be no holding back.

His hand slowly slid higher up your thigh, grazing the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath it.

You weren’t wearing anything underneath, just like he like - easy access, always ready for him.

He let out a quiet groan, feeling the slickness between your legs, even in your sleep. His cock twitched at the thought, already hardening against your backside as he pressed himself closer.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered low in your ear, his voice thick with need. “Even in your sleep, you’re ready for daddy, huh?”

You stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake up.

Joel grinned to himself, his fingers slipping between your folds, spreading your wetness as he teased you gently.

He loved this—having you completely at his mercy, knowing you were his to take whenever he wanted.

“You know what daddy wants, hm, sweet girl?” he whispered, his voice dripping with lust. “Gonna fuck you nice and slow, baby. Show you how much I need this sweet little pussy.”

You mumbled something incoherent, half-asleep, but your body responded instinctively, shifting toward his touch.

Joel took that as all the permission he needed. He reached down, positioning his hard cock at your entrance, pressing the tip against your slick folds.

“That’s it,” he muttered, pushing inside you inch by inch, groaning at the feeling of your tight, warm walls enveloping him. “So fuckin’ tight, - even in your sleep.”

Your body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the sudden fullness, but soon you relaxed, letting out a soft whimper as Joel started to move. He kept his pace slow, dragging his cock in and out of you, savoring the way your body clenched around him.

You were still half-asleep, your breathing deep and even, but the pleasure was unmistakable.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Joel growled, his hips pressing against yours as he buried himself deeper inside you. “Always so fuckin’ good for daddy, even when you don’t know it.”

He thrust into you slowly, his hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

You whimpered again, your body stirring as the pleasure built inside you, even in your sleepy state. Joel smirked, loving how easily he could turn you on, how quickly you responded to him.

“You love this, hm?” he teased, his voice low and filthy. “Love bein’ daddy’s little fucktoy, lettin’ me fuck you whenever I want. "- always so ready for it, sweet one.”

His dirty words sent a shiver through you, even in your haze of sleep. You moaned softly, your hips moving against him, and Joel chuckled darkly, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“that's my little girl,” he murmured, his voice softening just a bit as he slowed his thrusts. “Daddy’s gonna make you cum, just like always. - gonna fill you up so good, baby. 'You need that, don’t ya? Old man cum inside your sweet cunt?”

You moaned softly, barely able to form words, but Joel didn’t need a response. He kept thrusting into you, his pace picking up just enough to push you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, the pleasure building inside you, and before you knew it, you were coming undone around him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned as your walls clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. “That’s it, come for daddy. Let me feel how much you love this.”

He fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. You were barely conscious, your body limp against him, but Joel didn’t care. He loved having you like this—completely at his mercy, his to use however he wanted.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours as he finally reached his climax.

He buried himself deep inside you, groaning as he filled you with his release, his cock twitching as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of Joel as he held you close. He stayed inside you, his cock softening as he pressed kisses to your neck. And lastly to your soft lips.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his voice softening as he stroked your hair. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

And as you drifted back into a deeper sleep, you couldn’t help but smile.

· · ────

The morning sun was barely creeping through the curtains when you woke, the soft rays painting the room in a gentle light.

Joel was still fast asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily, a peaceful expression on his face. But as you lay there, the memories of last night flooded your mind—his hands gripping your hips, his filthy words in your ear, the way he used your body like he owned it.

The thought of it sent a familiar heat coursing through your veins. You couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again.

Carefully, you slid under the covers, moving quietly so as not to wake him just yet.

Your lips brushed against the soft skin of his stomach, trailing lower until you reached his cock. He was soft, but the weight of him in your hand made your heart race.

You wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking gently, savoring the taste of him.

Joel stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake. Not yet.

You smiled to yourself, your mouth sliding further down his length as you began to suck him off, slow and deliberate. The heat between your legs was already growing, the memory of how he fucked you last night playing over and over in your mind.

You couldn’t get enough of him—could never get enough.

As you worked him deeper into your mouth, you felt him begin to harden, his cock swelling between your lips.

His breathing changed, a soft groan escaping his throat as he slowly woke up to the sensation.

“Mmm… what’re you doin’ down there, sweet girl?” Joel’s voice was rough with sleep, but there was a smile in it too. His hand found your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he finally opened his eyes, looking down at you with that familiar hunger.

You leaned forward, the soft graze of your lips against his skin lingering as you looked up at him with a playful gleam in your eye.

“Thought I’d remind you of last night, daddy” you murmured, your voice dripping with mischief, heat in every syllable. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you fucked me.”

A rough groan tore from Joel’s chest, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips pushing up slightly, his cock heavy and throbbing under your touch.

“Knew I’d spoil you too good,” he muttered, the edges of his voice low and gravelly, thick with lust. “Spoiled from Daddy’s cock, huh? Look at you. Young thing, just desperate for it…”

You only hummed in response, eyes darkening as you took him back into your mouth, feeling the weight and warmth of him press against your tongue.

You let him feel every inch of your attention, the way you circled your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin there before sinking lower, deeper, lips sliding slowly down his shaft.

His rough breaths filled the air as you worked him over, and the steady beat of his pulse against your tongue was just as intoxicating as the groans slipping from his lips.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hand guiding you further down his length, pushing you to take him deeper.

“Suck me like that, sweetheart. Just like that.” The words only spurred you on, adding a new spark to the hunger simmering inside you.

You worked him harder, hollowing your cheeks as you moved, watching his eyes go dark with lust as you took him in, inch by inch.

His fingers tightened their grip in your hair, his hips thrusting up to meet the movements of your mouth, filling you over and over, his cock sliding deeper each time.

You could feel his gaze on you, heavy with admiration as he watched your lips wrap around him, taking him so eagerly. The rough timbre of his voice made the heat between your thighs ache, every word only feeding your need.

“Just can’t get enough, huh?” he murmured, his eyes darkening as he continued to watch you. “Look at you, sweet girl, so damn hungry for it. Daddy’s cock got you addicted already?”

Your cheeks flushed as you looked up at him, your lips tightening around his shaft as you answered with another hum, letting him feel every inch of you.

His breathing grew more ragged, his cock twitching against your tongue as you took him deeper, savoring the way his hips bucked, the way he couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, little one,” he muttered, his words edged with tension as he kept moving, guiding you, thrusting steadily into your mouth, each stroke deeper than the last.

“Just—look at you, a pretty young thing like you, all wrapped around me like this.” His hand flexed in your hair, the heat in his eyes pushing you further as he muttered, “Goddamn perfect, sweetheart, fuck…”

You moaned around him, the sound vibrating against him as you took him down again, feeling the rush of satisfaction every time he cursed, every time he let out a rough groan.

His hips thrust up with a final, shuddering need, and you could feel him reaching the edge, his body tensing, his grip in your hair tightening as he moved harder, needier, voice low and thick.

“Gonna make me cum, baby. You want that? You want Daddy to fill your pretty mouth?” His voice broke, heavy with lust, his words hitting you like sparks as he thrust one more time, hips jerking as his release spilled down your throat.

You took him in, swallowing every drop, not letting an ounce go to waste, savoring the taste as he finally began to relax, his breathing slowing, his hand slipping from your hair as he looked down at you, his expression somewhere between satisfied and awed.

“Jesus,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your swollen lips, eyes warm, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. “You’re somethin’ else, baby.”

You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, smiling up at him. “Just wanted to make sure you woke up with a smile.”

Joel chuckled, pulling you up into his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You grinned, your body already pressing against his, craving more. “Not before you fuck me again.”

“Damn, sweet girl,” Joel groaned, his hand sliding through your hair, tugging gently as he gazed down at you with a smirk of pure satisfaction. “With that mouth of yours… I’m gonna need those pills if I’m gonna keep up with you. Go get ’em for me, sweetheart. I wanna take my sweet time with you.”

He released a long breath, his chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of his release.

His thumb brushed your cheek, his eyes softening slightly as he spoke again. “Ain’t never felt this before. Not ‘til you came into my life. You make me feel like I’m twenty again, darlin’. Like I can’t get enough of you.”

His fingers slid down the side of your face, his touch tender now, petting your hair like he couldn’t stop admiring you. “God, you’re somethin’ else. My good girl, takin’ care of me like that.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the familiar heat building between you again at his filthy praise.

You leaned into his hand, knowing full well that the moment you got back with those pills, Joel wasn’t going to hold back.

He was going to take his time

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

uhh......yes <3

[xetlynn]

hii i have a little request for ekko like omg i love him so bad

so imagine winter times come around and you an ekko are in your shared room (the firelights bases ofc)

and he sees you shivering under your cover so he comes over and just cuddles all up under you

thennn a few words and giggles are shared and thingss get a little heated between yall and ykyk 🤗

I hope you wanted smut. That’s what I made.

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Still Cold

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s cold, you need to be warmed up. (Established relationship)

Contains: hand job, oral m! Receiving. Afab. Whimpering, whiny sub Ekko:(

You shiver, wearing a few layers of clothes along with tons of blankets. Your nose practically freezing off since you feel claustrophobic if you put your face under the covers. You hear the door open to you and your boyfriend’s shared room. Steps coming towards you. “You cold or something?” He asks, You just scoff in response like it wasn't obvious.

He snickers, throwing the blankets off of you causing you to whine. “Oh shush, c’mere you big baby.” He climbs into bed, pulling your body on top of his.

”You’re warm.” You mumble, clinging onto him. “I’m so cold.” You complain, he puts the covers back over the both of you. 

“I know a way to make us even warmer.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you shove his face away from your neck before he got the chance to pounce on it with his lips. He got hard before he even got into the bed. “I’m too cold to think about that.” You huff, adjusting yourself on him so you were more comfortable. 

It didn’t help Ekko’s situation though. He needed you badly and you put yourself right over his crotch. He tensed up but nonetheless stayed quiet, rubbing your back to get you warmer. “My body aches from how cold it is.” You wiggle over top of him. Ekko lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt. “Stop moving so much.” He grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Sorry, sorry.” 

A few moments go by and you begin to understand why he told you to stop moving. You feel something poking against your core. Your lips lined into a smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Ekko, massage me again.” You look at him with a pout. His eyes met yours, he seemed extremely nervous. He never wanted to push anything on you, so when you said you were too cold to think about it he stopped and he tried to take the thought out of his brain. 

“Um, alright.” His hands move on your back again, you let out a soft moan, humming into his chest. The vibration only worsening his perverted thoughts. Your digits find his hips, going up and down his body in slow motions. He wanted to stop and shove you off of him. 

You were so soft, such a comforting body he just wanted to explore every part of you. Keep you warm and safe. His member twitches and you chuckle. His face flushes. 

“He sure has a lot to say.” You tease him, not looking at him as your hand goes underneath you, trailing all the way down to the place he needed you most. He lets out a gasp. 

Your smaller hand palms him through his sweatpants. “Pretty girl, please.” He whimpers, he pulls his arms up to his head, watching your focused expression. “You wanted to keep me warm, right?” A smug smile tugging upwards, “my hands are pretty cold.” You go to his ear, kissing it softly as the hand that was once palming him went to the waistline of his pants. “Gonna treat you so well.” You lay your head back down on his chest, moving your body slightly off of him so you could get a better view of your actions. 

Ekko watches as his girlfriend extracts his dick from his clothing agonizingly slow. Spitting on your hand before smearing it on his tip, mixed with his precum. “So cute.” You compliment. 

“Cute?” He huffs, your thumb rubs it over the sensitive mushroom top. “Mhm.” 

He bucks his hips up, desperate for you to touch him more. You take your hand away to shove his hips back down. “Be patient.” You sit up with the blankets over your shoulders. You spread his legs apart enough so you could sit in between them. You yank his pants off half-way, keeping them at his thighs. 

His orbs grow darker by the sight of you on your knees before him. Even though you're clothed up you are the only one to affect him this way.  

“What do you want?” You ask, your fingers dancing around his skin. “Take your shirt off. Please.” He mewls in a soft tone. “Then I’ll be cold.” Your bottom lip puckers out as you give him puppy-dog eyes. “I need to see them, they’re so beautiful.” He begs, his hand going down to his dick, using your spit to pump up and down. “If that’s what my boyfriend wants. I guess I can make some sacrifices.” You take off your sweater along with the tank top that was underneath. Flaunting your breasts. 

“Stop touching yourself.” You prod aside his wrist replacing it back with your palm once again. Stroking his cock while leaning over to pronounce your boobs out. “I was supposed to b-e warming- shit- warming you up.” He stammers, grabbing at your left tit, massaging it gently. “This is warming me up.” You giggle, laying a kiss on the cockhead. He squeezes his eyes shut as your tongue kitten licks him. 

Your hand is still kneading at the base. “I- ohmygooodd.” He groans. “Use your mouth.” He runs a hand on top of your hair, grasping at it. “Not very good manners.” You glance up at him. He holds a breath. “Please use your mouth pretty girl. Please.” He whines like a dog, rutting his hips up only to be knocked back down. “Patience, Ekko.” Your voice was soft but stern.

You’ve never acted like this before, it was new to him. He was normally in control. “Fuck, okay, okay.” He throws his arm over his eyes. You snigger, sticking your tongue out. You smack his cock on it repeatedly until popping it between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks, sucking on his tip. 

You lower your head until your nose hits his pelvic region. His happy trail tickles you ever so slightly. You go back up then continue at a leisurely state. Frustrating him ridiculously. “[Name] please stop messing with me. I need more.” He tugs at your hair. “Mmmmhmmm?” Your noises pleasuring him. “I’m going to fuck your throat if you don’t do something.” He tells you through gritted teeth. 

The thought of him facefucking you aroused you. You felt the wetness in between your thighs even through all your clothes. You move your heel underneath your cunt. Pressing your butt down to feel the friction as you bob your head up and down on your boyfriend's thick cock. 

Now being more mindful of his needs. The slurping sounds with a mix of occasional gags. You hold onto the top of his thighs as you get faster. Ekko’s toes curling from your skills. He felt like he was about to cum at any moment. His abs tightening, flexing just for you. 

“[Name], pretty girl. I- oh fuckfuckfuck… I’m close.” Once again his pelvis went up. You weren’t expecting it causing your upper torso to contract as you gag. You lift up, his dick falling against his stomach. The saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” He implores, his hands wandering on your chest down to your stomach. 

“Fuck my throat.” You vocalise, sounding raspy. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to do it because I mentioned it.” He double checks and you smile, pulling forward by his shirt, kissing him. Your spit and his own liquid smudges across his mouth. 

You drop him back down on the pillows. He plants his feet down on the bed, lifting himself up a tiny bit and you put your mouth back on his dick. “You ready?” He bites his lip, your eyes look up at him. Your cheeks rise, making you seem like you’re squinting to show that you’re smiling. You give him a thumbs up. Both of his hands go to your head. 

He thrusts up into your muzzle, starting off tender you wink at him then his hips begin to accelerate. You hold onto his legs for support. His hands pushing you down as far as you can take him. 

“I’m going to cum! Fu-uuuuck!” He keeps the quick pace. Your pussy spasms at his moans and whimpers he made. “I love you so much, pretty girl. So so so much.” He breathes heavily. “Gonna let me spill into your throat? Swallow it like a good, beautiful girl that you are?” He questions you and you hum out. Slightly nodding your head. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” 

His cock convulses, his tip bruising your uvula. “Ohhh, love you, love you , love…” His voice gets cut off as he cums, his mouth hanging open with no noise coming out. His seed spurting down your throat as your nose pressed against his skin. He restrains you in place until his balls are completely empty. He roughly drops down and you swallow everything before coughing to catch your breath. 

His dick lays limp and his face looks fucked out. “Hope you know I’m not done with you.” You smirk, grabbing his soft cock and he whines, attempting to push you away. “Too sensitive, pretty girl.” He complains. “Mmm I’m still cold though.” 

He tiredly rubs his face realizing how long of a night he was about to have.

[kingdom-of-sins]

Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Lando is an idiot, oh and he also lost the key to your house

Requested? No

The room is dark and silent as you sleep, snuggled under your favorite blanket, sleeping. It's past midnight when you faintly hear a noise. A clatter, followed by a muffled curse. Your eyes snap open.

Your heart pounds as you sit up in bed. Is that... someone in the house? Panic sets in.

Frantically, your eyes scan the room for a weapon. Anything will do. Finally, you grab your bedside lamp. It’s not exactly a baseball bat, but it’s heavy and wieldy enough to knock out a potential thief. Lamp in hand, you cautiously tiptoe toward the kitchen, every creak in the floorboards making you wince.

The noise is louder now. Someone is moving around, rummaging. You grip the lamp tighter, raise it over your head, and step into the kitchen.

“Stop right there!” you yell.

“AHHH!” the intruder screams, dropping something on the counter.

“AHHH!” you scream back, shocked that the "thief" is screaming too.

Both of you stand frozen, staring at each other in the dim light. You recognize the messy curls and wide-eyed look of terror before you.

“Lando?!” you gasp, lowering the lamp.

“Babe, don’t kill me!” Lando exclaims, hands in the air like he’s about to be arrested. “Put the lamp down!”

“What are you doing sneaking around my kitchen at night?!” you demand, lowering the lamp but still holding it firmly. “You scared me half to death!”

“I lost the key you gave me!” he blurts out, looking like a guilty puppy. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d...you know...climb in through the window.”

“You climbed through my window?” you echo, incredulous. “Who even does that?!”

“I do, apparently,” he mutters, still eyeing the lamp nervously. “Can you, uh, put that down before you actually swing it at me?”

Realizing you’re still holding the lamp like a weapon, you set it on the counter with a huff. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he says, trying to muster a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t just scare me—you terrified me!” you scold. “What if I had actually hit you with this thing?”

“Well,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “I guess I’d be knocked out, and you’d be dating a guy with a concussion.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small laugh that escapes. “This isn’t funny, Lando. You lost the key! What if someone else finds it?”

“I’ll fix it,” he says quickly. “I’ll change the locks tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

“You’d better,” you say, crossing your arms. “And you’re paying for it!”

“Of course,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Anything you want. Just don’t attack me with lamps anymore.”

You shake your head, still annoyed but starting to soften. Then he grins and points at you.

“By the way,” he says, “you look really hot in my papaya hoodie.”

You glance down, realizing you’re wearing his oversized hoodie. “Don’t think compliments are going to get you out of this,” you say, trying to sound stern.

“Oh, come on,” he says, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you. “I mean it. You look amazing.”

“Flattery will only get you so far,” you tease, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward.

“It’s working, though, isn’t it?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

You sigh, giving in. “Fine. You’re forgiven... but only because of the hoodie.”

“Noted,” he says, grinning. “And I’ll keep my promise about the locks. No more sneaky window missions, I swear.”

“Good,” you say, finally relaxing in his arms. “Next time, just call. I’d rather wake up to a phone than almost attack you with a lamp.”

“Deal,” Lando laughs, holding you tighter.

[mishellii]

♢ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ♢

ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ, ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ, ᴋɪʙᴀ, ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ, ɴᴇᴊɪ & ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ

a/n: sooo my first headcanons yeiih!! this just came flowing out of me while watching boruto tbh because i'm delusional lmao,,,, anyway, very self indulgent as always :) ignore typos pls i cant spell aaaand enjoy xx

likes & reblogs appreciated <3

warnings: none! SFW :) not proofread

masterlist

♢ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ♢

✿sUCH a messy sleeper

❀he'd toss and turn throughout the whole night, ending up somewhere completely different than where he fell asleep on the bed

❀matching pyjama sets !!!

✿especially seasonal ones, he adores them

✿BLANKET HOGGER !!!

❀but not on purpose really, he just pulls it with him due to all his movements

✿u always wake up with it either on the floor or him laying atop of it

❀sometimes he hits u with his elbow or his feet, but pls don't tell him he WILL cry

✿just push him away, boy will not wake up under any circumstances

❀the both of u alWAYS cuddle when falling asleep

✿the usual position is with his arms around your waist, legs thrown over ur own and his face resting next to ur shoulder

❀for that exact reason he's a BIG SPOON !!

❀so so quick to fall asleep, and wakes up after u as well

✿but not at all groggy in the morning !! he's energetic from the second he opens his eyes and sees u preparing breakfast

❀overall just the softest boyfriend ever

♢ꜱᴀꜱᴜᴋᴇ ᴜᴄʜɪʜᴀ♢

❀now thIS dude sleeps like a corpse

✿he's not particularly prone on cuddling u, but he fairly enjoys having ur head on his chest and feeling ur fingertips draw circles against his skin

❀he'd never admit it tho obviously

✿mostly wears a black lose t-shirt and some short sweats or sumn 

❀just comfortable all around

✿i'm a firm believer in the back position

❀laying flat on the mattress, one arm either around u, or both resting on his belly

✿light sleeper, if i may

❀takes him pretty long to fall asleep as well, but counting ur breath usually calms him and makes it easier

✿u make everything easier for him actually

❀doesn't really care about a blanket, it all really depends on what u prefer while sleeping

✿often awoken by nightmares, but won't ever wake u up or tell u the next day because he thinks it's embarrassing

❀refuses to leave the bed in the morning, but isn't moody at all just very quiet

✿always helps u make breakfast and makes the bed without having to ask him to

❀overall just a calm lover

♢ᴋɪʙᴀ ɪɴᴜᴢᴜᴋᴀ♢

❀without a doubt, a snorer

✿like IM SORRY LADIES but c'mon

❀but not annoyingly loud, just breathy lil snores

✿the problem with it is: he won't move an INCH away from u ever, he's all up in ur business while sleeping

❀doesn't matter how, he's always got to feel u next to him somehow

✿i take him as a sleep talker too, mumbling incoherent words against your neck which only make u laugh tbh

❀akamaru's got his own bed next to the two of u, but some nights he crawls in between ur bodies, practically suffocating u

✿you really don't mind on colder nights, but in summer kiba makes him get off, due to having such a high body temperature already and he doesn't want u to complain even more

❀wore a shirt and pants at the beginning of ur relationship

✿but now??? u'd have to FORCE him to wear anything more than boxers

❀hates when u don't want to cuddle :(( might as well kill him fr

✿why need a blanket when he has you??

❀doesn't leave the bed AT ALL in the morning, u literally have to grab him by the feet and drag him out of it

✿he's a sweetheart, really

♢ꜱʜɪᴋᴀᴍᴀʀᴜ ɴᴀʀᴀ♢

❀dude HATES cuddling at the beginning of ur relationship, me thinks

✿but fear not, it just takes a bit of convincing from ur side and he's in on it

❀but it's subtle touches really, like holding his hand or having ur feet intertwined

✿if u've had a bad day, he'd definitely play with your hair to make u fall asleep, he's not a diCK

❀grey sweats all the way !!!!!

✿rarely ever wears a shirt, except for when it's cold of course

❀he seems much more like a light sleeper than not, but he's so grouchy when something wakes him up it's a drag really 

✿has to be completely dark and quiet in his room or he won't be able to close one eye

❀always sleeps on the side closest to the door

✿big on talking about both ur days at night because he's a very private person and loves spending time with u ALONE

❀deep talk at 2am?? u can bet on it

✿forehead kisses!!! once u wake up and neither of u want to get up and start ur day

❀he's such an attentive lover in general, i'm actually going insane 

♢ɴᴇᴊɪ ʜʏᴜɢᴀ♢

❀oh my lovely boy

✿i feel like he wouldn't move a MUSCLE while sleeping

❀sometimes you have to poke him to make sure he's still alive

✿AHEM

❀a light sleeper foshou

✿also ????

❀he would 100% wait for u to fall asleep first

✿would always run his fingertips over your back to make you tired

❀unfortunately, the closest to cuddling u two do, is ur head on his chest

✿he gets sweaty quickly, so he'll often sleep without a shirt (which u don't complain about obviously) and that's the reason why he doesn't necessarily NEED body contact (in this situation only!!)

❀but HUGE PLUS he'll sweet talk you to sleep almost every night 

✿asking about ur day from begin to end

❀he wants to know it ALL

✿in general, he's really big on making you as comfortable as possible before bed

❀would even wait till the morning to go pee because you look so peaceful laying on his chest

✿don't mind him watching u he just thinks ur so pretty ok

❀u wake up to the smell of coffee almost every morning

✿overall, as we been knew, the gentlest gentlemen to perhaps ever gentleman goodbye

♢ᴋᴀᴋᴀꜱʜɪ ʜᴀᴛᴀᴋᴇ♢

❀poor baby's the king of light sleepers

✿always ready to jump into battle and protect u if he has to, even if u convince him that ur safe and nothing's going to happen :(

❀casually wears a black tanktop and some sweats, mask and shinobi headband easily reachable on the bedside table at his right side

✿definitely enjoys u playing with his hair too much

❀he prefers to fall asleep with his head either on your chest or tugged just under your chin so he can hear you breathe and ur heart beat

✿he's so tragic oh my days

❀anYWAY light snores but only when he's REALLY gone and u rarely ever see him in this state so,,,,,

✿loves listening to ur stories before falling asleep

❀legs & arms intertwined and allathat 

✿you will never lay in bed without him picking up one of his books at least ONCE

❀it really calms him down u know

✿but start a conversation with him, and he's all urs, book long forgotten next to his mask and headband.

❀always wakes up earlier than u, preparing breakfast with said book between his fingers 

✿(he swears he'll close it once ur awake tho)

❀((he does))

a/n: AHEM i hope u liked it ???? pls tell me ??? AAAA i will see u beans next time bye bye xx

devider by @enchanthings