#don't look too closely at what it says on the back

[slvttyplum]

✮ part two of: roomie suguru wants to fuck you.

the question hit you like a truck, suguru's hands fidgeting and sweating as he looked at you with pleading eyes, the stirring in his jeans starting again.

please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please say-

"where do you get off talking like that?" taking a step back into your room, but your eyes not letting you look away from him, slowly sliding down to his shirtless frame, then to his pajama pants that were so low you could almost see it.

dear lord.

"hopefully to you." a slight smirk as he says it, trying to put on his best poker face, covering up that corny-ass line. his eyes slowly follow your curves and the way your clothes hug your body just right.

he had to have you; this was a matter of life and death. his fucking dick was going to fall off from all the swelling, but it was partially his fault because he just couldn't stop staring, and neither could you.

his eyes slowly slide back up to meet yours.

"we're both adults here; let's not think too much about it."

those words made something shift inside of you, a tingle erupting throughout your body but mostly in your panties, almost like a green light.

fuck.

suguru didn't waste a second; once you slipped off your shorts and panties, suguru was snug in between your thighs, his legs snaking around your thighs as he got comfortable.

so many conflicting thoughts were swarming through your mind; this was weird, right? two roommates hooking up? this is bad; you just couldn't think straight, but suguru was way more calm about this.

"wait, no, this is a mistake." your hand pushing his forehead back as he grips your thighs, straightening himself in between you to make himself comfortable.

his dick pushing against his pants and against the mattress, his heart racing and his face already flushed, his mouth salivating.

"you want to know what's a mistake? not doing this sooner." finally sliding his tongue out and over your slit, then immediately to your clit, softly licking back and forth.

the pleasure hit you hard, your heart pounding and your hands trembling. this felt different than the usual pussy eating you received, and suguru read that.

licking over your clit again, then slowly unhooking one of his arms and sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up, trying to feel you out and feel how you reacted.

your breath hitched as you grabbed a handful of his hair, your throat tightening along with your walls that clung around his fingers that were pumping away.

suguru moaned into your dripping core as his lower body pushed into the bed, moving his hips back and forth, trying to get some friction working out; he felt like he was going to explode.

maybe he didn't have to fuck you; maybe this was enough to hold him by, his eyes closing as his nose pushes against your core, wetting it up.

your moans were quiet, but your body did most of the talking for you, your toes curling and your knuckles sore from how hard you were holding him in place.

he was looking right at you, his gaze both captivating and piercing; he was focused on you and only you, his pace getting sloppy but still making sure you felt everything he was doing.

bucking your hips into him, getting his face all wet, letting all your worries on whether or not this was a bad idea let go.

"right there, don't stop."

suguru closing his eyes again right as the waterworks begin, his nose wet along with the rest of his face, his hair slowly coming out of a bun and a few strands sticking to his face.

you couldn't process anything; your eyes had those floaters, and your legs started to cramp.

the air was thick, and the silence spoke volumes.

your breathing was uneven, and your chest rose and fell rapidly; there were no words that could be spoken. he exceeded your expectations, and that turned you on.

suguru licked his fingers and threw a blanket over you, sitting by you and placing a hand on your thigh, the touch comforting for him; he almost wanted to cuddle you in his arms.

"text me if you ever wanna fuck; i'll drop everything." patting your thigh and leaving the room, softly closing the door behind him, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to faint.

you, on the other hand, were still recovering, trying to get up to wash and change the sheets, smiling to yourself knowing you were going to be texting him soon.

[lymtw]

Toji and his shy girl cuddle fucking WHO SAID THAT

A/N: EEHEE I heard it too 🤭 Even if the echo took a while to reach me 😔 No, but really, I loved this! It's been a while since i've written out a request 😅 I'm excited to start trying some of these, again :)

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

"Hey, you," Toji says, grinning like a menace at the way your body minimally jolts, like he scared you. "You don't like me or something?"

You turn to look at him, a barely there crease between your brows. "What? I do. What do you mean?"

"I mean, why don't you wanna be with me? You're sitting on your own island over there, while i'm over here... all alone... feeling like chopped liver."

He's cute, you think. Playfully dramatic enough to make you giggle. It's always nice to know he wants you around, too, when you keep your distance to give him that choice.

"I just thought you would want some space, is all," you explain. "This is a pretty long movie, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Would sitting with me make you uncomfortable?" Toji asks.

"No," you respond, though the thought of sitting next to him or on him, has your heart rate picking up. Most of the time, Toji wants it to be the latter, and when this happens, it feels like he's peeking af your soul. You feel like every nerve in your body is tingling and like your skeleton is buzzing. You know he can sense your nervousness, most of the time, and yet he doesn't take it easy on you. His patience, his charm, and his irresistible way of trying to seduce you—none of it ever gets easier to withstand without you feeling flustered.

"You're comfortable, I'm comfortable. We're both comfortable, so, come closer, sweetheart." He sees hesitance flash through your features, before you finally give in and start inching closer.

"Come on. Closer, baby," Toji instructs, watching as you continue to inch towards him. "Look at all this space. Get rid of it."

He chuckles at the properness of your folded hands in your lap, when you sit on the edge of the couch cushion, in front of his legs. "You're gonna stop there and keep watching the movie all uncomfortable?"

"It's fine," you say, smiling at him before facing forward, again. You can feel him staring at you as you try to focus on the movie. His hand goes to your thigh, an act that has your heart beating rapidly in your chest, close to being heard in your ears. He tugs at your sweatpants, earning your attention.

"I'll spell it out for you, doll. I want you here, lying right in front of me. Wanna cuddle with you and shit." You return your gaze to the screen and though anybody would think that it's rude, because it seems like you're ignoring him, Toji knows what it means. He knows it's hard for you to hold eye contact with him, sometimes, and that you looking away gives you time to collect your thoughts and prepare what you want to respond with.

"But you won't be able to see the movie," you say, as a last ditch effort to let him enjoy the movie without obstructing his view and invading his personal space.

"We'll make it work. Just come here. Please?" He pats the spot in front of him, directing you to lie right where he wants you.

"Okay," you say, more to yourself than to him. You scoot down a little more, before lying down on your side, on the exact spot he said he was wanted you. In an instant, you're swallowed up by him. He pulls you in so that you're pressed up against him, his leg overlaps yours, and his face goes straight for your neck.

"T-Toji, I know you can't see the movie. I can go back, if you want."

"Mm-mm. Nope. It's all good. Got what I need," he assures, low against your neck, a hand planted on your stomach. "Pretty baby," he murmurs, pressing kisses onto your skin. "You smell so fucking good."

You feel like some sort of soothing toy for him, with the way any time you sit with him, you end up stealing his focus and withstanding the way he mouths at your skin and runs his hands all over you.

"You comfortable? Have enough space?" He asks, kissing your earlobe. You nod in response and he hums, a click of his tongue and a couple pats to your stomach, expressing his disapproval of the nonverbal confirmation. "Say it, baby. Yes or no?"

"Sorry. Yes, i'm comfortable," you confirm, in a manner more to his liking.

"Mm... you're so good to me, doll," Toji praises, adding a kiss to the appreciation.

He understands that sometimes it's difficult for you to say things out loud and you'll dismiss your own discomfort for the sake of not having to verbalize what is bothering you. It's why he's so adamant on hearing you talk, over seeing you nod or shake your head in response to things. He's working on this with you. He's heard 'sorry' so many times, now, and each time, he rejects your apology, deeming it unnecessary, because he knows you're trying.

Things are still for a few moments. You get fully comfortable, lying there on the couch, with Toji spooning you, and manage to refocus on the movie. His hand goes under your shirt, meeting the warmth of your skin. It's a gesture that disturbs the calmness of your heart, as well as your focus on the TV, again.

"This okay?" He asks, caressing your stomach, occasionally pinching it, gently.

"Mhm," you hum, in response, before pretending to pay attention to the movie. You're too distracted by the dragging of his fingertips and the goosebumps he lures onto your skin. You're sure he can feel them, too, because his hand starts wandering higher up your torso, like he wants to get more reactions from you. You shift minimally when his fingers slide beneath the elastic band of your sports bra, grazing the bottom part of your breast.

"Still comfortable?" Toji asks, keeping his hand still until he receives a response from you.

"Yeah... you're okay," you assure, once again, resting your hand on his forearm. Your breath hitches when his fingertips brush against your nipple. Toji grins at the involuntarily squeeze you offered his arm, finding amusement in the way your body reacts to his touch.

Toji chuckles, lowly, at all your sudden fidgeting. "Does that feel good, mama? Want me to keep going?" He asks, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You're not stopping him. If anything, he can feel you gently pushing his arm so that his entire hand goes up your bra. "It's alright. You can tell me," he says, encouraging you to respond.

"It feels good. Please..." Your soft voice halts, a shuddered exhale released through your nose.

"Mhm, give me more. Please, what?" He says, baiting a more elaborate response from you. "Just saying 'please' doesn't tell me what you need, pretty."

"Please... keep touching me." You cringe, internally, the second the words come out. You don't even realize how proud Toji is or get to indulge in the praise he offers, because you're too busy overthinking what you just said.

"That was perfect," Toji murmurs, scattering light kisses onto your neck. His enormous hand stretches your bra, and grabs ahold of your breast. "I'll give you anything you want, sweetheart. Anything. The trick is... you gotta ask for it."

That alone is enough to teach you another lesson on not always being able to get what you want. It's not always so easy for you to ask Toji for things. He's seen you get frustrated, because of this. It happens, even if your frustration is never loud and you don't raise your voice or throw a tantrum. It's quite the opposite. Too many questions to your initial request, results in you shaking your head, as if to say, 'never mind. I'll do it myself'. Having to repeat yourself too many times, gets a similar result. Even in times when he's just asking you to describe something more, you lose patience with yourself and your inability to communicate what you need, efficiently, and essentially give up on explaining it to him, doing it yourself, instead.

It's times like these that really help you out in that aspect. You want something that you can make yourself feel, but receiving it from Toji makes it so much better, because of the element of surprise. You give him access to your entire body and he gives you everything you could ever want in terms of pleasure. You never know where he's going to touch you and what he's going to touch you with.

"You understand?" Toji asks, seeking comprehension from you. A small whimper interrupts the silence of an expected response. "I know. Tell me," he encourages.

Your grip on his arm gets tighter and more of your restrained soft sounds reach his ears as he keeps rolling your stiffened peak between his fingers. You gasp when he shifts his attention to your other breast and writhe in his arms. "Y-Yes—please—yes, Toji. I understand."

"Sensitive thing." He chuckles. "Look at that little arch. Bet you're soaked, already, huh?"

"Oh... god, i'm sorry," you mumble, relaxing your back against him, again. You feel like you could implode with how much attention you're being given. You just want to shrink and hide under the couch, and just watch the rest of the movie from there.

"You're fine, doll. I know the slightest touch does a lot to you," he says, brushing over your nipple, knowing that your reaction will emphasize his point. "You nervous?"

You groan in response to the question and turn your head so that your face is planted in the pillow, earning another deep chuckle from Toji.

"I'm not gonna eat you, mama," he jokes, grinning at the way your body trembles with contained amusement. "I mean... I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it before. You're sweeter than any candy or cookie—even cake. You're sweeter than all of it, but I need you here with me, so I can't... I won't eat you, alright?" His method of getting you to lighten up worked enough to lure giggles from you. "Yeah, there you go. Relax. Just wanna love on you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your shoulder. "Wanna make you feel good. You want that, gorgeous?"

Throughout your time with Toji, you've learned that he's a very hands on man. He's constantly seeking your warmth and softness, because physical touch is his love language and he'll put in the work to get you to comfortably connect with him that way, too. You find that sometimes when you're lying in his bed, ready for the sleep part of sleeping over, he'll stick his head up your shirt and just fall asleep like that on your chest. It's easy for him to relax when he can hear your heart wildly beating in your chest. Sometimes, randomly, when you're just sitting next to him, he'll pick you up and set you down on him, just to watch you get flustered when he starts talking to you within such a close proximity. He loves the way you scramble to escape his sight, always ending up with your face buried in his neck.

"Aw, don't go all quiet on me, now, pretty. You know better. Say what's on your mind." His hand slides out of your bra and goes back down to your stomach, the roughness of his palm rubbing your soft skin. You don't like making him beg for you. He's patient enough with your nervous tendencies, you know he doesn't deserve it.

"I want you, Toji," you say, softly. It's a huge contrast to the hammering going on in your chest and the annoying rhythm in your ears.

"Yeah? Keep fucking going, baby. How do you want me?"

"Please," you mumble, reverting back to the familiarity of simplicity.

"No, not like that. Give me a little more," Toji clarifies.

"I... I want you to touch me... and make me feel good. Want you to feel good, too."

You feel and hear the rumble of his laugh behind you, a sound that makes your fingertips tingle and your stomach erupt with butterflies all over again.

"You precious angel. You want me to fuck you?"

You don't know how long you can last with your heart beating so fast. It's a miracle that it hasn't exploded, with how it's almost always racing when you're around Toji.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you nod, and offer a soft, yet, clear, "yes, please," giving Toji the consenting words he's been listening closely for.

"Alright, ma. You just focus on the rest of the movie and i'll take care of you, 'kay?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response. You pull on the drawstring of your pajama bottoms and begin pulling them down with one hand. Toji watches with a sly smirk on his face as he feels you shift around, more of your skin coming into view. This is your effort. This is what makes him love you so damn much. You try for him. He knows your heart is probably shambles, as you kick the article off and wait for what's to come, but you're showing him that you want this, and that means beyond everything to him.

"You're so perfect, my girl," he says, pressing kisses to your ear. "So, so perfect..." he trails off when his fingers meet the wetness of your panties. He was right. You're utterly soaked. His hand dips into your underwear, instantly greeted by your warmth as he keeps digging. Two fingers drag through your slit, back and forth, for just long enough to have you fidgeting as he collects a sample of your sweetness. Once your thighs attempt to shut around his hand, craving more, he pulls it out and admires the glossy coating on his fingers. Without hesitation, he brings the digits into his mouth, a low hum of satisfaction leaving him as he licks them clean. His cock is throbbing in his pants, straining mercilessly against his boxers as he savors the aftertaste of you on his tongue.

"Straight up fucking sugar," Toji murmurs, as he hastily starts pulling down his own pants, ready to get a feel of what he just tasted. There's a breathiness in his voice, urgency that you can't process, because you can barely believe he sounds that way after tasting you. Then you feel it—the monster he packs, pressing against you.

"I'm all hard, just for you, pretty," he murmurs in your ear, as he starts grinding his bulge against your ass. "Feel that?" He groans. "It's all for you. All yours." He plants a kiss on your neck and halts the movement of his hips against you. His hand returns beneath your shirt, a slow drag up your abdomen, towards your chest. His fingers dip beneath the elastic once more and splay over your breast, squeezing. He can feel the stutter in your chest as he feels up the entirety of it. You keep fidgeting against him, and he recognizes this as your way of saying you need more.

"You ready for me?" He asks, still toying with your stiffened, sensitive peaks.

"Ready," you respond, maintaining your voice as steady and clear as possible. You squeeze his hand through your shirt for deeper assurance.

Toji smiles softly at your little gesture and pulls his hand out of your shirt. Just as he did when he was directing his touch towards your chest, he follows the same path down, tracing your curves until his hand makes it way between your legs. He moves the gusset of your underwear aside, an act that has you shaking your foot against the couch cushion.

"Relax, sweet girl," Toji hums, a low chuckle following. He lowers his boxers enough to pull his throbbing, drooling cock out and smears the precum that beads on his tip all over his length. Once it's all covered he guides his tip to the warm, slick ridden space between your legs. After running it through your slit a few times, to hear the squelching sounds and your little whimpers when he catches your clit, he slowly starts sinking into you.

"There, baby," Toji murmurs. His warm palm rubs the softness of your stomach and he scatters wet little kisses on your shoulder and your neck, all while he continues feeding your cunt his inches. "You're so fucking cute," he coos, listening closely to the sound of your little whimpers and gasps. "Fuck..." he groans, once his hips are flush against you. He can feel the way you clench and flutter around his pulsing cock, making the fit even more snug for seconds at a time.

"All good, little lady?" He asks, pinching your goosebump covered stomach.

"Mhm," you hum, a chime of your giggle following.

Toji's hold on you is secure. He has you. Warm and gentle caresses and brushes of his fingers on your skin prove it, along with the way he languidly grinds his hips against you, as if to remind you that you're connected in the most physically intimate way. It's not like you could ignore it, anyway. You feel all of him. His warmth, his strength, his company. It's impossible to ignore Toji.

"This movie's pretty boring, huh?" He asks, not even paying attention to what's going on, like he hasn't been since you crawled into his arms.

"You're not even watching," you reason, smiling at the kisses he presses to your ear.

"Got a reaaally good distraction right in front of me." He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. "So warm and pretty and mmm... Can't focus on anything else," he purrs.

"It's okay. You can choose the next... the next one, too..." you gasp at the slow thrusts he offers. With every roll of his hips, his cock slides out just about halfway before sheathing back into the velvety warmth of your walls.

"I don't want to watch TV, anymore. Wanna watch you," he murmurs, monitoring your reactions to his movement. Every twitch, every shift of your legs against his. It's adorable, the way you push your face just a little bit more into the pillow when he tries to get a peek at you.

"Like that, baby?" He murmurs, a deep groan following. "Mhm? Yeah, I know," he says, like he's responding to your moan.

"Toji," you hum out, an unintentional amount of sultriness dripping off his name.

"Fucking- god,you sound so pretty, mama. Let me hear that again. Do it again."

His hips pick up the pace a little, just enough to coax more of those melodic sounds of yours. His hand dips lower, proceeding down the front of your underwear, his thick fingers gliding down towards your slippery clit. It doesn't take much of this electric addition to your pleasure to have you squirming and writhing against him. It's hard not to want to squish his hand between your thighs.

You whimper, a slight arch curving your back. Your clammy, shaky hands grip onto the couch cushion beneath you, your knuckles protruding from the force you put into your hold. You think he's on the brink of devouring you—absorbing you— with how he's holding you like you'll teleport into space if he lets go for a second.

"Say my name," he says, calmly, directly in your ear. "Call for me, sweetheart. Who's touching you? Who's making you feel like this?"

"T-Toji," you obediently pronounce, meekly, yet, to the man's utmost satisfaction.

"Again—fuck, baby—again," he groans, speeding up his fingers on your clit. He knows the motions spiked your pleasure because of how your body tensed up against him.

Sloppy kisses are pressed to your nape, as well as the side of your neck, where you know fully well that he must have left a plethora of marks already. You can hear the consistent sharp breaths he releases through his nose as he begins to desperately roll his hips into you, chasing what's coming up on him ridiculously fast. He's not aggressive—not entirely soft—but there's just enough movement to where you can hear a slight creak in the couch.

"Toji," you croon, softly. "T-Toji, Toji," you repeat, a high pitched whimper ending your little chain of his name.

"Oh, you're so fucking sweet, doll. So fucking sweet..." he mutters, his voice deep enough to make goosebumps spread anew, all over you. He hums at the feeling of your cunt erratically clenching around him. It's a tell tale sign—along with the frequency of your precious little sounds—of how you're right there, about to cum all over his twitching cock.

Toji loves how flustered you get when he has you tell him that you're about to cum, but he also loves the abruptness that comes with you being so overwhelmed by his touch and how he handles you, that for a few seconds you tense up and release all the sounds that bubble up in your chest, caving to the relentless amount of pleasure you feel without a warning.

"You're my pretty girl," Toji says, lowly, grinning when that's all it takes for you to gasp and arch off his front. Your body trembles and your thighs squeeze around his hand when his fingers continue to rub your clit. His tip just continues to prod at the sensitive spot within you, further intensify the sensation coursing through you. You're aware of how your moans have gotten louder and attempt to muffle them with the pillow, but your breathy little cries can be heard, regardless.

They spur on Toji's own release. His hand comes out of your underwear to avoid overstimulating you and glides up your abdomen, aiming towards your chest. He grabs ahold of one of your breasts, his hand smothering the entire thing as he squeezes and kneads it. You can hear his breathing grow heavier, his thrusts more punctuated, and a little faster in pace. The creaking of the couch is more frequent, as are his groans in your ear. His hold on you is tight. With his forearm having brought you back as close as you can be to him, you're locked in. With a few more thrusts, into your dripping wet warmth, he's spilling his load into you, breathy, deep voiced expletives tumbling off his lips as smears your gooey walls with all the warm, creamy substance.

"F-Fuck..." he groans, slowing the roll of his hips to a languid grind. "I got you," he says, chuckling at the gasp you let out from being filled even more. He drags unfocused, wet kisses over your shoulder and stills his hips entirely with a heavy breath. "Got you, mama." He loosens his hold on you, allowing you to breathe and move a little more freely. "Good?"

"Mhm. Good," you assure.

"Good. Gimme a kiss," he requests, smirking at the sound of your tittering. "What? You laughing at me 'cause I want a little smooch?"

"No," you say, through soft, but, more audible giggling.

"You promise?" He says, grinning at the slight tremble of your shoulders as your twinkles of laughter continue. "I'll let it slide, just this once. Now, give me a kiss, baby."

With a smile lingering on your face—the aftermath of your short giggle fit—you lie back a little and crane your neck as much as you comfortably can. Toji leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to your sweet, lip balm layered ones, brushing them over and over as if he's parched and you're a glass of water. Both of your bodies react to the spark of desire reigniting through the gentle gesture. You can feel him throbbing inside you, while he can feel you clenching around him. His hand pawing at your chest makes butterflies swarm in your stomach and fuels the fluttering going on below.

You hear the dramatic background music of the movie's end credits and break the kiss, facing forward. You realize now that you paid just as much attention as he did—almost none—even when you agreed to keep watching as he touched you.

"Play another boring one," Toji says, behind you, already nipping at your ear, because your attention isn't solely on him anymore.

"But you won't watch it," you say, shuddering at the chill that runs down your spine, when you feel his lips behind your ear.

"That's the point."

[harrysfolklore]

yes do the lewis fic pleaseee

short and sweet bc i promised anon i would do ittt i hope you like it

You're fidgeting with your rings - his rings, actually, that you stole months ago - when Lewis notices your knee bouncing for the hundredth time. The arena feels too warm despite your backless Valentino.

"You're going to drill a hole through the floor, love," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his lips brush your ear. His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

"Easy for you to be calm," you whisper back. "You've won eight world championships."

"Seven," he corrects automatically, making you roll your eyes.

"The eighth was robbed and we all know it." It's an old argument, one that makes him smile every time. "Besides, this is different. This is-"

"This is you about to win Song of the Year," he finishes, so confident it makes your heart ache.

You turn to face him properly, taking in how unfairly good he looks in his suit. "How are you so sure?"

"Because," he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "I was there when you wrote it at 3 AM on my kitchen floor. When you called me crying because the bridge wasn't right."

"You're biased," you argue, but you're smiling now. "You have to say that. It's in the boyfriend contract."

"Ah yes, the famous 'support your controversially young girlfriend' clause," he teases, and you can't help but laugh. It's become a running joke between you, how the media can't seem to get over your age gap.

"Speaking of which, did you see that headline yesterday? 'Grammy Nominee Spotted Looking Cozy with Elder Statesman of F1'?"

Lewis groans. "Elder statesman? I'm forty, not dead."

"Ancient," you declare solemnly. "Practically fossilized."

He's about to retort when Taylor Swift takes the stage, and suddenly you can't breathe again. Lewis must feel you tense because his hand tightens around yours.

"Hey," he says softly. "Whatever happens, you've already won. Seven nominations in your first year? That's unheard of."

"I just want-" you start, but then Taylor's speaking.

"Music tells our stories," she's saying. "And sometimes, a song comes along that captures something so real, so raw, that it changes how we see love itself..."

You feel Lewis shift beside you, and when you glance over, he's already watching you with that look - the one he gave you the first time you played him this song, the one that makes you feel invincible.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Taylor's smiling now, like she knows something. "'Birds of a feather!"

The world stops. Starts. Explodes.

Lewis is up first, pulling you into his arms before you can even process what's happening. "That's my girl," he whispers fiercely against your hair. "I told you, didn't I? I told you."

You're crying already, you can feel it, but you don't care. His hands cup your face and he's beaming at you with more pride than you've ever seen - more than after any pole position or race win.

"Go get your Grammy, superstar," he says, and then he's gently pushing you toward the aisle.

The walk to the stage feels infinite. You're aware of everything - the weight of your dress, the cameras following you, the deafening applause. But mostly, you're aware of Lewis in the front row, standing and clapping like he's watching the love of his life win Song of the Year at the Grammys (which, you suppose, he is).

"Oh god," you start, gripping the golden gramophone like a lifeline. "I wrote this song about falling in love. About meeting someone who changes everything when you least expect it."

You find his eyes in the crowd, and suddenly it's just the two of you.

"I should probably thank Formula 1 for canceling that race in Singapore, or I never would've been in that hotel bar, jetlagged and grumpy, when this absolutely ridiculous man in the most expensive hoodie I'd ever seen asked if he could buy me a drink."

The audience laughs, and Lewis is shaking his head, grinning that grin that still makes your knees weak.

"To Lewis - thank you for being the most unexpected plot twist of my life. For showing me that timing is everything, even when Twitter thinks our timing is inappropriate." More laughter. "For listening to every demo at 3 AM, for believing in me when I was just another girl with a piano and a dream..."

You're fully crying now, but so is he, so it's okay.

"For never once making me feel too young or too inexperienced, for teaching me that love doesn't follow anyone's timeline but its own. And yes, I know this speech is probably going viral for all the wrong reasons, but you taught me that sometimes the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming. I love you."

The camera cuts to Lewis, who's not even trying to hide his tears. But neither of you seem to care at the moment.

Later, after winning four out of your seven nominations, you're in the back of the car heading home. Your head's on his shoulder, Grammy in your lap, when he speaks.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Now I have to win the championship this year. Can't have you showing me up with all these trophies."

You laugh, snuggling closer. "Better get practicing then, old man."

"Menace," he mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

[aleskie]

YOU DON'T NEED TO LIFT A FINGER | Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When a guy just cannot get the hint, Jack makes sure to put him in his place. He's got your back. Always.

Warnings: none!! pure fluff and jack gets protective!! Full discloure, this is for realsies Fem!Reader!! Author's Note: This was supposed to come out a dayyyyys ago but Tumblr was NOT letting me post my drafts 😭😭 my poor therapist spent an hour watching me crash out about it najsjsshjjk

You were beautiful.

Of course you were.

In Jack’s eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth.

Which is why he understands why you get hit on. He really does. Hell, once upon a time, he was hitting on you. And he still hits on you, even now, years into the relationship, because you’re worth it. Because you light up rooms without even trying. Because he’s always been a sucker for the way you roll your eyes and smile at his cheesy attempts to be smooth with you.

You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you’re so effortlessly charming—of course people would want you for themselves. He gets it. He really does. And honestly, there’s a part of him that loves it. He loves that people notice those qualities about you, that they see in you what he sees every day. It feels like validation, like the universe itself is confirming that he’s the luckiest guy alive. He basks in the knowledge that no matter how many people give you those hungry looks and shitty pick-up lines, he’s the one you're coming home with, his hand resting possessively on your hip as he gives all those people a smirk, his claim laid without him even lifting a finger.

What he doesn’t love is when people don’t take the damn hint.

And you give a lot of hints.

Take this guy right here—Dave, or Doug, or whatever his name is—He’d somehow wiggled his way into the booth you guys shared with your friends for a night out and, while he seemed harmless at first, he was now solely focused on you. And your legs that were highlighted by the body shimmer Jack helped put on you earlier tonight (his fingers still slightly shimmering to prove it—a badge of honor, in his opinion).

You’d been giving him that polite, fake smile since he joined in—the one Jack knows so well and that always makes him chuckle, the one you use when you’re being patient but are clearly not enjoying yourself—and you’ve barely paid him any attention, save for a few fake laughs and an “Oh, that sounds cool” every so often as Darren, or Dino, continues to brag about himself, not even trying to ask about you (a grave mistake, Jack thinks, since you were the most interesting person he knew).

Jack wonders if this guy even realizes you’ve been leaning against Jack this entire time, your head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your upper thigh, or if he’s chosen to ignore that in favor of trying (and failing) to shoot his shot. Better yet, does he even recognize Jack is here, drink untouched and jaw tightening as he watches Danny (or was it Dylan) lean in just a little too close?

Jack glances at you. You’re still handling it with grace, of course you are. You always do. But he knows you. He sees the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you lean further against him to put some distance between you and Dexter, the way your fingers tighten around your glass, and he knows you’d rather not have to deal with this.

He shifts slightly and stands, leaning forward to smile at the intruder, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Diego, right?” he says. His tone is casual, even pleasant, but there’s steel underneath it.

“It’s Dave, actua—”

Jack extends a hand, cutting through the guy’s attempt at small talk. “Right, yeah. Sorry to interrupt, but I think my girlfriend and I are gonna go dance now.”

He puts an emphasis on girlfriend, just to make sure this guy gets the point.

Jack gives you a soft look, the kind that makes your breath hitch just a little, and you immediately stand up, reaching for him. His arm wraps around you instinctively, his touch steady and familiar. You can already feel the tension in his body lessening now that he has you close, now that he’s leading you away from whatever-his-name-is and back into the safe, easy rhythm of you and him.

But before you can leave, the guy speaks again.

“Sorry, man, didn’t realize she was yours. You know how women are. With that dress and those legs, she was totally leading me on.”

Jack freezes.

For a second, the world seems to pause, almost like he couldn’t believe what was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he didn’t want to believe anyone could be that stupid.

Slowly, he straightens, turning back toward the guy—Dave or Doug or whatever his name was—with a look so calm it’s almost serene. Too calm. And that’s how you know Jack is angry.

Not the playful kind of angry, where he pretends to pout when you steal the last fry or kiss him everywhere but his lips. Not the frustrated kind, like when he can’t find his keys for the third time that week or when he’s had a particularly bad game.

No, this is something deeper. Colder. Controlled.

His fingers graze your arm lightly, a small, grounding touch meant just for you. It’s subtle, but you know what it means. I’ve got this. You don’t need to lift a finger.

Jack tilts his head ever so slightly. “You wanna say that again?” His voice is so even it borders on soft, a quiet thing wrapped in steel.

Dave—or Dino or Darryl—seems to think Jack is inviting him to elaborate, which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made all night.

“I’m just saying, y’know,” Dave shrugs, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, like he thinks Jack might actually agree with him if he just explains it better. “When women dress like that, you can’t blame a guy for—”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut up before I do something we both regret.”

Jack doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. The weight of his words alone is enough to send a ripple of silence through the space between them.

Dave blinks, the beginning stages of intimidation creeping onto his face. He glances at you, as if expecting backup, but you’re already leaning back against the wall, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as you watch Jack dismantle him.

There’s a small smirk on your lips. Because this? This was a sight you didn’t get to see in public too often.

Many times, people assumed your lovely boyfriend—so easygoing, so effortlessly charming—would lack the sharpness to cut someone down when needed, would stick to uhmms and ahhhs and crassnes.

They mistook his laid-back nature for passivity, his warmth for softness. But you knew better. Your Jack could be quite a wonder with words when he wanted to be. He didn’t need to be loud to command attention. He didn’t need to throw a punch to land a hit.

So you hang back and let him handle this one, finding comfort in the thought of his arms around you later, his breath warm against your ear as you danced the rest of the night away.

“Listen, buddy,” Jack continues, stepping closer. His tone is light, almost conversational, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath it. “You don’t talk to anyone like that. You definitely don’t get to talk to her like that. You hear me?”

“God, c’mon, man! No need to get all—”

“I already told you to shut up.” Jack’s scowl deepens. His words are slow, deliberate. “The fact that she was polite enough to give you the slightest bit of attention doesn’t mean she was hitting on you. Whatever you thought was going on tonight? Not an invitation.”

Dave—Dino? Derek?—opens his mouth, probably to dig himself into an even deeper hole, but stops when Jack leans in slightly, just enough to make his presence feel heavier. Like a storm cloud about to break.

“She’s kind,” Jack says, voice quieter now, deadlier. “So she tolerated you. But she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing.”

The last of Dave’s bravado starts to crumble. His shoulders inch inward, his gaze flickering around the booth, searching for an exit, for reinforcements—for anything that might save him from this moment.

Jack watches him for a second longer, then exhales sharply, like he’s already bored. “You think being desperate and cocky gets you the girl,” he says, shaking his head. “But I don’t need any of that to keep her by my side.” His fingers brush against yours, finding their place like they always do. “And we don’t need to waste any more time entertaining douchebags like you.”

Jack steps back, his hand sliding fully into yours as he finally tears his gaze from Daniel? Don?—who cares?—and looks at you instead. The shift is immediate, his features easing, the sharpness in his eyes softening into something familiar. Something yours.

“Let’s go, babe,” he says simply, his voice lighter now, more like himself.

And just like that, the moment is over.

As you stand, letting Jack guide you away from the booth, you hear Dave mutter something under his breath—something weak and defensive that doesn’t deserve acknowledgment. It’s the kind of parting shot people throw out when they know they’ve lost. Neither of you glance back.

The music swells around you, the bass thrumming beneath your feet, but Jack doesn’t lead you straight to the dance floor. Instead, he pulls you toward a quieter corner, away from the crowd, where the lights are dimmer, the world a little smaller.

He exhales, then wordlessly nestles his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly grazing his scalp. He sighs at the touch, his arms slipping around your waist as he lets himself melt into you for just a moment. You press a soft kiss to his hair, breathing him in, grounding both of you in something steady, something real.

After a beat, he tilts his head up, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. “Did I go overboard?”

You roll your eyes fondly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were absolutely perfect,” you murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His grin widens, boyish and bright, and just like that, the weight of the night lifts. He tugs you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he starts to sway you to the music. You laugh as he spins you unexpectedly, sneaking in kisses between the DJ’s transitions, his lips catching your temple, your jaw, the curve of your shoulder.

The man who bothered you is forgotten. The tension, the sharp edges of the night—gone.

All that’s left is this. You and him and the music. The warmth of his hands on you, the sound of your laughter melting together, the rest of the world fading into nothing.

[cazort]

insects think, and sometimes, think like us.

like I have watched an ant carrying an object, drop it, then pause for a second, then reposition and pick it up, holding it a slightly different way.

I once watched a beetle walking along in a line...only to come to the edge of a very steep drop-off. the beetle walked up to the edge, then stopped. paused. Then decided to walk back away from the edge and took another route.

once I watched a bumblebee visiting great blue lobelias. it was going in each flower, drinking the nectar. but then it reached this one flower that was a bit smaller. It tried a few times to go into the tube, but the tube was too small and it didn't fit. so it then went around the side of the flower, poked a hole in the flower's base, and sucked the nectar out the hole.

or this one time I saw a praying mantis eating aphids off a stem like candy. and I approached it, and it noticed me and it stopped, and turned its head towards me like "You looking at me?" at which point I backed off, and it then went back to eating. some bugs need their personal space.

the more you watch insects the more you realize they're just little guys (or girls, or ppl of some other gender) just doing their thing.

yeah they don't do all the same things we do, but they do MANY of the same things, they eat, they get scared, they plan a route, they solve problems and overcome challenges, they experience distress, they attempt things and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail, they learn, and they sleep too!!!

some of them (like paper wasps) even have faces and recognize each other as individuals. and they build houses and care for their young. and with paper wasps you can even learn to recognize how agitated they are so you can hear and see if / when you are too close to a nest, and back off. I would listen to the paper wasp nests anh they would let me prune plants INCHES from the nest openings without bothering me.

it's so fun, if you listen to what the insects are trying to communicate, you can actually have a friendly neighborly relationship with them, even "scary" insects like wasps. it's so amazing to be working right next to a wasp's home and know they feel comfortable and safe having you right there, and for you to feel comfortable and safe with them.

and yes I say this as someone who has been stung by (other species of) wasps many times!!! you can have a good relationship with (some) insects. not mosquitoes though, they still die when I see them!!!

you guys Need to start seeing bugs as animals im not even joking anymore. the second u start seeing them as tiny animals the more your world opens up and the more you accept different types of life Into that world. youll begin accepting that even life you cant understand is still worth living. and itll legitimately make you a better person. fuck

[hhughes]

Quinn Hughes would love making out in his car after a big win.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ this man could literally ruin my life and i’d say thank you 😫

quinn practically sprints to the car after the game. eager to get home. one hand holding his phone and car keys and the other holding your hand, gently leading you along.

“have a good night mr. hughes. ma’am” a parking lot security guard greets you and you send him a friendly smile

quinn opens the passenger door, making sure you’re settled before he presses a kiss to your cheek and closes the door.

you begin to get a little restless when a few minutes pass and he still hasn’t gotten into the car. “what took you so long?” you ask when he finally gets behind the wheel.

“had to slip phil a few bucks to look the other way while I kiss my girl” quinn says with a grin, referring to the security guard as he slips a hand onto your hip and pulls you towards him

he carefully maneuvers you over the console and onto his lap, one hand cupping your jaw and the other pulling your body close to his with a firm grip on your waist

“you’re beautiful” he says casually, admiring you as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

your cheeks heat at the compliment, lowering your head to press your lips to his, his hands sneak beneath the ‘hughes’ jersey you were wearing, running up your spine

“it never gets old” he mumbles against your lips, casually gathering all your hair in one hand as he twists it around his fist and adjusts your head like he wants it

“what?” you question breathlessly, craning your neck back more as he trails his kisses down to your collarbone

“seeing you in my jersey. my last name on your back. fuck, it does things to me” he groans, pressing more kisses to your neck

you let out a breathy laugh, the sound quickly turning into a soft sigh as quinn's lips find that one spot on your neck that always makes you melt. his grip on your waist tightens, holding you against him like he's afraid you'll slip away.

"quinn," you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair as he hums against your skin, clearly in no rush to stop.

"yeah baby?" his voice is low, rough with want, but there's something tender in it too-like he's savoring this moment just as much as you are.

"you gonna take me home, or are we staying in the parking lot all night?" you tease, brushing your nose against his.

quinn grins, his hands slipping from beneath your jersey to settle firmly on your hips. "tempting," he admits, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. "but if we don't leave now, phil's gonna start charging me every time l touch you."

you laugh, giving his chest a playful shove as you move back to your seat. "would serve you right."

quinn shakes his head with a smirk, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt for you before finally starting the car.

as he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly. he lifts your joined hands to his lips issing a soft kiss to vour knuckles.

[chrissturnsfav]

i’ve been summoned ☝️ ok hear me out here, fuckgirl!reader is flirting with him like always and then he gets a boner… up to u if she notices or not !!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 loser!matt gets a little excited around fuckgirl!reader

you’re sitting in matt’s beat-up old car, legs crossed on the passenger seat, leaning back with a joint dangling between your fingers.

the windows are fogged up, a hazy cocoon of smoke and the faint smell of cigarettes and cologne—matt’s signature scent, clinging to everything he touches. he doesn’t like to smoke weed, never has, but you got him to take a hit tonight. one hit. big deal. baby steps.

he's in the driver’s seat, slouched like he’s got nowhere better to be, one arm draped lazily over the wheel, the other flicking ash out his window.

his lips curl slightly when he catches you staring. not a full smile, but enough to make you grind your teeth. this smug dick knows exactly what he’s doing.

"what?" he asks, voice low, smooth, teasing.

you blow smoke in his direction, grinning. "nothing. just thinking how you keep pretending you don’t wanna fuck me."

his eyes flick over to you, dark and steady, but he doesn’t bite. doesn’t rise to your taunt, never does. that’s the thing about matt—calm, cool, untouchable. a challenge. you love it, even though it's incredibly frustrating.

"cute," he says flatly, like it’s not.

you shift, letting your skirt ride up just enough to get a reaction. he notices—of course he does—but he stays cool, that unreadable expression driving you absolutely crazy.

"come onnn," you coo, leaning closer, voice dripping with fake sweetness as you pout at him, stubbing the blunt into an ashtray in his cup holder. "you can’t keep playing hard to get forever."

"who said i’m playing?" he shoots back, eyes flickering down to his crotch just a second too long.

gotcha.

you lean in further, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you snicker tauntingly. "your dick says different, matt."

his jaw tenses. you see a crack in that infuriatingly calm exterior.

he shifts slightly, like he’s trying to hide something, but you’re not stupid. you know exactly what’s happening, and it lights a fire inside you.

"oh," you whisper, biting your lip through a cocky smirk. "looks like i’m finally getting to you."

he exhales slowly, a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite name. but he doesn’t pull away. doesn’t stop you.

"careful," he warns softly, voice rougher than usual. "you sure you wanna play this game?"

you grin wickedly, loving every second of this rare victory. "oh, baby, i'm already winning this game. don't get it twisted. started winning when you kissed me a few weeks ago."

his eyes narrow, and for a second you wonder if you’ve finally pushed him too far. not that you'd regret it. matt’s the type who thrives on control, always one step ahead. but tonight that grip is slipping, and you can feel it. it's the same exact tension you felt a few weeks ago at that party.

he shifts in his seat, leaning back like he's trying to remind himself who’s in charge.

you know that move. seen it before. but it’s different now. there’s heat bubbling beneath his cool exterior, something that wasn’t there before.

"yeah?" he asks, voice low, smooth.

you nod, biting your lip. "mhmm."

he hums like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s remembering that party a couple of weeks ago when he kissed you and shattered his whole untouchable vibe.

of course that motherfucker blamed that night on the alcohol. but you're not backing down so easily, and you knew that was all a lie.

besides, you love a good challenge.

you see the flicker of that night in his eyes now, the way he looks at your plush lips like he’s weighing his options.

"you're thinking about it, aren’t you?" you taunt, snickering cheekily, leaning closer until your knee brushes his thigh. "how good my lips tasted."

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a dry laugh. "cocky."

"mm-mm, confident," you correct, grinning. "there’s a difference, baby."

his tongue darts over his bottom lip, slow and deliberate, and you swear it takes every ounce of self-control inside you not to climb into his lap right then, wanting nothing but to feel his hard tip pressing against your clit through your clothes.

"aw, what’s wrong?" you taunt softly, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "scared you're gonna give in again?"

his jaw tightens, and he huffs out a low laugh through his nose, like he knows what game you’re playing but refuses to let you win outright.

"damn, you're really pushin’ it tonight," he mutters, voice rough, like gravel rolling through his chest.

"am i?" you purr, inching closer until you're practically in his space. your knee brushes his thigh, deliberate this time, and the flicker of tension in his eyes nearly makes you dizzy.

his breath hitches—subtle but not subtle enough to miss.

"yeah," he says low, almost a warning. "you are."

but he doesn't move away. doesn't stop you. and that's when you know you've got him once again.

you tilt your head, biting back a grin. "hmm...what’re you gonna do about it, matt?"

his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second—one fleeting, dangerous second—before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

"thought you liked keeping me on my toes," you tease, voice soft but challenging. "what happened to that whole stupid unbothered vibe?"

"still here," he says, though it sounds more like a lie the longer he holds your gaze.

your grin widens. "doesn't look like it."

you see the exact moment he stops fighting himself—that sharp flicker of decision in his eyes before he moves. suddenly his hand is on your thigh, firm but not rough, heat radiating through your skin like wildfire.

you've got him right where you want him now.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: do not worry, i REPEAT there will be a part two of this where they will be getting freaky, i just want to edge everyone a lil bit hehe

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13

@chrissturnsfav ™

[25centsoda]

I give myself about an hour, maybe two if I don't catch it in time, and then I go "Okay. This task is not working right now. Time to put it down and do something else." Other variations are "I don't have the brain for this task right now." (maybe it's a complex thing but I'm not doing complex thought at the moment), or "This task is not available to me right now." (video game-like thinking).

And then I have to go do something else. I know that I won't always "have the brain" for tasks every day, so whenever possible I schedule myself to have extra time to complete things to accommodate/compensate for this; thus, often I can safely set the task down until tomorrow, or overmorrow, at which point it will be easier. If I'm super busy that week or weekend and a task isn't working, I'll look ahead in the week to see if I can accomplish a future task and thus make time for this one.

Example: I've been sitting at my computer with a job application staring at me, scrolling tumblr or my phone for two hours. I look at the clock and realize how much time has passed - not enjoyable time, not productive time, just time. I go "Okay. This task is not working right now. Time to put it away and go do something else." I write out any thoughts I'd had for the cover letter, or tasks I need to accomplish next time I open up the gdoc (contact references, write cover letter, get somebody to proofread it, find contact info for last job, etc), then I close all the tabs. Maybe I'm really busy this weekend, and I had planned to get this job application done with the middle of my day Saturday so I can do dinner with family in the evening, and Sunday I'll clean my apartment, cook, and plan out my week. I really need to get this job application done by Monday, but I can't just add it to my tasks on Sunday. So since the job application "isn't working," instead I get out my cleaning supplies and a playlist and clean with my Saturday midday. This gets me unfrozen, gets me accomplishing something, and frees up time to do the task later. On Sunday I wake up with a much clearer head, some thoughts on what to write in my cover letter, and more energy to contact people.

Alternatively, if I can't get myself to do a different Task, I say "Okay. This isn't working either. Time for a break." A break could be a nap (or a lie-down; don't have to fall asleep to get restful benefits, just quiet time laying in the dark is helpful too), watching TV, engaging in a hobby like painting, etc. Then you can either go back to the original task or just give up on it for the day and do something else, whichever you have the capability for at the moment.

Important: Whatever you do, don't beat yourself up for it. Sometimes you get "stuck" or freeze, and sometimes you can get yourself out of that, and sometimes you can't. It's all okay. Tomorrow is another day. The next hour is another hour. There is always another chance. Step back, reset, and try again. You're doing amazing.

this randomly blew up on twitter so i figured i’d post it here bc lord knows everyone on this app is neurodivergent

[witherby]

If Punch line can trigger Jason easily what would happen is she ever met Harley?

Let's explore that!

Punchline: First Session

Masterlist is Here!

"I need your help."

Harley perks up, gasping, and rushes over to hug Batman tightly.

"I never thought this day would come," she says, jumping up and down and clutching a gauntleted hand. "Yes!! Yes I would love to be your therapist! We have so much to work on, starting with your parents. I really think you never internalized the event and haven't given yourself any space to grieve after —"

Her hands get squeezed gently, recapturing her attention. Blue eyes meet white lenses, and she furrows her brow.

"Okay, that's fine!" She sighs. "Can't say I'm not disappointed, but if one of your kiddos is looking for help instead, I'm still more than hap—"

"Not one of mine," Batman gently interrupts. "This is a...very delicate case, Harley."

"What's delicate mean in this context, Batsy?" She asks. "Delicate like schizophrenic? Delicate like CPTSD? Delicate like one wrong word away from explodin' and killin' everybody in a mile radius?"

"Delicate," he says, "like...this might hit too close to home for you."

"Me?"

Batman nods. Harley hums, equal parts curious and cautious.

"Any good psychologist worth her salt won't let a personal connection get in the way of providin' aid," she tells him. "If the patient isn't somebody I can help myself, I'll help ya find someone who can. When can I meet 'em?"

--

Your file lies scattered across the floor of the cave. Harley stares wide-eyed at your picture while she trembles on her hands and knees. Bruce, having changed out of his suit, kneels beside her with a steadying hand on her back.

"Oh," she whispers, "Brucie, she's so small for her age. And her age!! Sh-she's..."

Harley shakes her head. Bruce continues rubbing small circles in her back. When she leans against him for support, he holds her upright.

"How'd he keep a kid hidden for eight years?" She whispers, voice thick. "I know I fucked off to go play Happy Family with Ivy, but..."

"Nobody knew," he says. "Harleen, don't play the blame game, not for this. He kept her a secret for a reason; no one was supposed to know."

Harley lifts her hands to her face, rubbing her eyes before any tears can well up and fall. She takes deep, calming breaths, gathering her focus, then carefully collects the papers and stands with his help. She draws a pad and pen out of her pocket.

"I ain't promising anything," she says, looking up at Bruce. "This is...this is a whole different ball game, 'specially with that chucklefuck as the daddy. But I'm gonna try, okay?"

He nods. "Take your time. You were the first person I thought of, but don't force this if it's too much."

Harley gently squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. She walks past him and down the hall towards the containment cells, heels clicking quietly against the floor. She dug out her old coat with the name tag pinned to it and even threw her hair back in a low braid to appear as non-threatening as possible. The closer she gets to your door, the more the wonders if you would've been more comfortable if she showed up in her combat getup and mallet.

"Miss Punchline?" She calls, stopping in front of your cell. A cursory glance of your environment tells her immediately that you're under-stimulated. She writes that down. "I'm Doctor Quinzel. Do ya mind if I come in and chat with you a while?"

You cease all movement. You'd been sitting with your back to the door, gently stroking the head of the teddy bear Alfred gave you while muttering Mistress Mary's nursery rhyme, but when you hear her, you practically turn into a statue. Unless she actively stares at your back, Harley can't even see you draw breath.

"Miss Punchline?" She repeats calmly. "I won't come in if you don't want, but I'd really like to talk to you."

"...Popsy talks about you, sometimes," you say. Harley can't decipher your tone, but the words make her feel cold all over. "Says he used to miss his favorite gal."

"I'm sure he's mentioned me once or twice," she says, clearing her throat. "But I'm old news. Why don't you tell me about yourself? I'm gonna punch in the door code now, okay?"

You don't move. Harley unlocks your cell and walks inside, getting a better look at how sparsely decorated it is. The bed is clearly unused and half of the activities left here would cause an ordinary child to lose interest in about an hour without company. Overall, Bruce and his family are keeping you in a dreary room. If she accomplishes nothing else today, it's a guarantee that she's gonna get you better accommodations.

Harley walks around the room until she can see you face-to-face. Once she's in your periphery, your eyes snap to her and follow her every movement like a predator. She lowers herself to the ground, taking a seat a few feet away from you.

"There you are," she says kindly. Your smile is just as placid as the one in your photo. "I like ya make-up. The swirly pattern on your cheeks is very cute."

You don't respond, though your smile widens briefly. Highly receptive to praise. Your eyes don't leave hers, scanning, assessing, calculating. Harley doesn't feel like you're about to attack her, but you're clearly juggling something around in your mind.

"Bet you're thinking about mine," she continues. "Normally I like puttin' on the face paint, but sometimes my pores gotta breathe, you know? Well — the pores I got left." She glances down at her hands, paper white like the rest of her body from her dip in a vat of acid. With relief, Harley notes that your unpainted skin is a healthy color. Even though the bar's lower than Hell, it's nice to know that at least the Joker didn't immediately treat you to a dunk of your own.

"Punchline, I'm gonna be frank with you," she says.

"Nice to meetcha, Frank," you chirp, grinning mischievously. Harley lifts a brow.

"That was funny," she praises. "I know your, eh, Popsy, he places a lot of value on bein' funny. Used to say nothin' was worth the effort if it didn't amuse him at the end of the day. I'm sure you know that already."

"A giggle a day keeps the boredom away!" You say, pitch and cadence matching that of your father's. Harley knows that the grip on her pen is too tight. She breathes deep and forces herself to relax. "Ohh, hit a nerve, Frank?"

"I'm doin' just fine," she says. "What's boredom look like for you and Popsy?"

You separate your hands, fingers splayed wide, and make explosion noises.

"Do you get caught up in that explosion?"

Your smile doesn't change but your eyes get sharp. Harley makes a note.

"It's hard keepin' him entertained all day, every day," she says. "I would know. But I'm gonna tell ya somethin' your popsy probably never has."

Harley scoots a tad closer to you, reaching her hand out and gently taking one of yours. She can feel every bone in your hand and has to utilize all of her training to school her expression.

"It's not your job to make yer popsy happy. In fact, it's not your job to make any adult happy. Grown-ups shouldn't rely on their children for emotional regulation."

"Couldn't rely on you, either, could be?" You snicker. "Since you ran away."

"I left him because he was treatin' me like dirt," Harley says, a little more firm than necessary. "He's real good at drawin' you in, Punchline. Shows you an ounce of praise that makes you feel invincible, makes you wanna do anything he asks to get more of it."

Harley lets go of your hand to tuck a lock of emerald green hair behind your right ear, brushing gently against the shell. The edges are distorted, flatter than your left.

"He's also real good at draggin' you through the mud, makin' you feel like everything's your fault. Like you got no choice but to make it up t'him. Ya never wanna get on his bad side cause he really makes you feel it."

You tilt your head away from her hand, eyes dropping back down to the teddy bear Alfred gave you. You resume petting it, slightly faster and rougher than before. Harley makes a note.

"His anger's always more powerful than his joy, Punchline," she says, "but both of them are destructive. I wanna help ya break away from his cycle."

"No thanks," you say, "if I wanted to be a washed-up, third-rate party clown, I would!"

Harley feels a wave of pity for you. It's obvious you're just regurgitating your father's words back at her, and she's not surprised. Change doesn't happen overnight, especially not for you.

There's so much work to do, but Harley's not afraid. You may look and behave similarly to the Joker, but you're young and still impressionable and already starting to pull away from him without even realizing it.

"I can tell yer getting upset, and that's the last thing I want," she says, climbing to her feet, "so I think this is a good stopping point for today. But I'd really like to see you again. Would you be alright with that?"

You blow a raspberry at her, then cackle. Harley exhales sharply through her nose, giving you a fond smile, and pats your head as she steps past you and opens the cell door.

She can do this. She will do this. For you.

But, first thing's first.

"Brucie, you're kidding me with the furnishings! How's the richest man on the planet gonna put a kid in such a shitty room!? Don't look at me like that, mister. You brought me in t'do a job and I'm gonna do it right!!"

[00valentina-writes00]

My God, your writings are wonderful, the way you express yourself in letters should be rewarded with an award

I'm so excited about pregnancy writing. Is there a way to know how Sevika would behave with an injured reader when she is pregnant or when she gives birth to her baby? I thank heaven that put you on my profile, I read this every night before going to sleep (don't judge me for being so weird ￣(=∵=)￣ )

✞⛧ Sevika with a pregnant girl ✞⛧

An: girl I understand (me too fr- I love writing stuff like this)

✞⛧ Sevika is protective as hell, always on guard when you’re around. The idea of you carrying her child brings out a deeper, fiercer side to her.

✞⛧ She’s not great at expressing her feelings verbally but shows her care through actions. For example, when you’re pregnant, she’ll make sure you’re never doing too much, offering to handle any physical tasks.

✞⛧ If you get hurt while pregnant, she’s livid. She’ll immediately jump into action, her protective instincts taking over. Sevika is usually stoic, but if you’re hurt in any way, you’ll see a more vulnerable side of her—concern, anger, fear.

✞⛧ In those moments, Sevika’s eyes will burn with anger, and she’ll make sure to stay by your side until you’re safe and sound. If it’s a more serious injury, she’ll insist on taking care of you herself, even if it means staying up all night.

✞⛧ She’ll be hovering around you during labor, but in her own way—staying close but not overly dramatic. Sevika has a quiet intensity, trying to stay strong for you while she watches you go through something as intense as childbirth

✞⛧ During labor, Sevika has a firm hand on your back, rubbing circles to calm you down, though she’s visibly on edge. She might not say much, but her presence is comforting in a way you can’t quite put into words.

✞⛧ She’s not one for saying sweet things, but you can tell she’s paying attention to every little thing, from your breathing to how you’re holding up.

✞⛧ Her reaction when the baby is born is nothing short of awe. She’s trying to be tough about it, but there’s no hiding how she’s completely taken by this tiny human you both made.

✞⛧ Sevika’s hand is right there when the baby is handed to you, and the way she looks at the two of you—her child, her family—tells you everything you need to know about how much she cares.

✞⛧ After the baby is born, Sevika is surprisingly tender with the little one. She may not be the most openly affectionate person, but with her child, it’s different. You’ll see her carefully hold the baby, as though she’s learning how to be gentle.

✞⛧ She takes on a lot of the heavier work at home, but always with the unspoken promise to keep you both safe and well. She might do things like bring you food or clean the house without you asking, all because she knows you’re doing the most important work: nurturing.

✞⛧ She’s not exactly cuddly, but when the baby’s in your arms, Sevika will give you both soft looks from across the room. Her love for the two of you is clear in her eyes, even if her expression is more reserved than anything.

✞⛧ If the baby cries, Sevika’s instinct is to quickly check and see what’s wrong, almost like she’s scanning the room for danger. She can be a bit paranoid about protecting the baby but has the best of intentions.

✞⛧ Sevika will fight anyone who tries to harm you or your baby, no question. If anyone dares to cross her or her family, they’ll regret it immediately.

✞⛧ When you’re up late with the baby, Sevika will always offer to take the night shift. She knows how hard it is, and though she’s not the best with soothing techniques, her strong, steady presence gives you some peace.

✞⛧ As the baby grows, Sevika will be the kind of mom who’s constantly teaching them, showing them how to be tough, resilient, and smart.

✞⛧ She’ll teach them about the world in a way that’s practical—how to defend themselves, how to survive in a harsh world—but also instill in them a deep sense of loyalty and respect for others.

✞⛧ When the baby takes their first steps, Sevika will act like it’s no big deal, but her eyes will soften just a little. It’s one of those small moments where her pride in her child shows through.

✞⛧ She might not say it often, but you’ll hear her whisper “I love you” to the baby when she thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s a rare moment of softness that she keeps for her family.

✞⛧ She’ll always be the one to ensure that both you and the baby are physically protected. When people in Piltover or Zaun look at you with a hint of judgment, Sevika doesn’t flinch. She gives a glare that makes them think twice.

✞⛧ She’s a very practical mother, not one for over-the-top displays of affection, but the way she looks after the baby shows how deeply she cares.

✞⛧ When the baby gets older, Sevika is there for every milestone, though she might play it off like it’s no big deal. But you’ll catch that proud look she gives when the baby shows their first sign of strength.

✞⛧ Sevika will be the first one to defend the baby’s honor—if someone tries to mess with them, Sevika will be the one to step in and put them in their place.

✞⛧ When you’re resting, Sevika is right there beside you, making sure the baby is fed, happy, and safe while you get the rest you need.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly sentimental about keepsakes—if you manage to get her to keep something like a baby blanket or a little toy, it’s something she holds onto tightly, even when the baby’s grown.

✞⛧ Despite being a hardened individual, when Sevika sees her child laugh, she can’t help but soften. That sound fills her with something she’s not used to—complete, overwhelming love.

✞⛧ In her quiet moments, you’ll sometimes catch her staring at the baby with that same sense of awe she had when they were born.

✞⛧ Sevika is a fierce protector, but she’s also a caring and capable mother who does her best to provide stability and strength for her family.

✞⛧ She’ll stay up late with the baby, rocking them to sleep in her arms, her stern demeanor softening in the quiet of the night.

✞⛧ Sevika will protect you both fiercely and provide for you, though you’ll often need to coax her into being a little more affectionate. She’s still getting used to showing that side of herself, but for you and the baby, she’ll always go to any length.

[aangelinakii]

SAYING SOMETHING STUPID.

— and then you go and spoil it all.

summary : you and jason have been dating for a year, and although both of you know it, neither of you have said the dreaded L word. what happens when, accidentally, the truth comes out?

note : technically zimtsterne are christmas cookies so pretend like this is a christmas time fic

despite the countless beatings he took each and every night, jason's forearm was already beginning to ache. you had him whisking egg whites until they looked like snowy mountains, but not too mountainous, you'd said.

"where did you find this recipe again?" he hummed, not wanting to take his eyes off the bowl he was attempting to whisk at a flash-speed. beside him at the counter, of which he'd stepped away from to allow you more space, you were mixing ground almonds, cinnamon and powdered sugar into a dough. "what even is a zim— zimt—"

"zimtsterne."

"yeah, that."

"i found it online," you responded, barely taking your eyes off your almost-mixture. once jason would whisk the egg whites into soft peaks, you'd add half to your dough and it would be ready to cut into star shapes.

"online?" jason snickered, bumping your hip lightly with his. "you heard it on that game you play, didn't you? what was it again... choices?"

before you could get a handle on yourself, your eyes rolled almost back into your head. at this, you whipped your head over your shoulder to cast a very meaningful look to your boyfriend. "i only play it to get diamonds. i don't even use them, i just want to reach ten thousand just in case."

"how many do you have now?" he asked in return, looking back down at his white foamy mixture.

with a soft munch on the gum of your cheek, you turned back to your own bowl sheepishly. "more than ten thousand."

from behind, jason's warm laugh hummed through the kitchen. soft footsteps approached from behind, and his broad figure ghosted against your back. at once, a muscular arm, as well as his bowl, came into your vision. "this good enough?"

in the bowl, much faster than you would've been able to, jason had whisked the three egg whites cracked in there into soft peaks, leaving a little fluffy curl when you pulled the metal whisk out of the mixture. "perfect!" you grinned in return, taking the bowl in your own hands and scooping half the egg whites into what you'd so far made from the ground almonds.

watching you scoop and mix, scoop and mix, jason leaned back against the counter, hands resting on the edge, the veins pronounced on the back of the hand he'd used to whisk. "you're not gonna ask me to do any more whisking, are you?"

a soft chuckle brushed past your lips as you placed the bowl of egg whites back on the counter, and resumed stirring the zimtsterne mixture. "not today, you lucky boy," which earned an uncertain smile from jason.

"i liked that," he hummed bashfully.

"what, being lucky boy?"

jason gave an uncharacteristic laugh, his body swaying slightly against the counter. "maybe."

when you'd started dating, jason todd had never been an outwardly affectionate type; it took a few months for him to finally be willing to hold your hand in public. he was so used to suppressing his feelings, his affections, that it was certainly a challenge to get him to unlearn certain behaviours. now, a good year in, jason was getting more and more comfortable being the person he truly was.

still, at times, you weren't used to that person, hidden under years of trauma and dirt and grit.

but here he was, presenting himself to you in his cupped hands.

with a laugh matching his own, you paused your stirring for a moment to look up at him. "no more whisking, but i need you to get a tray, put a piece of parchment paper on it, and sprinkle some powdered sugar on the counter."

obedient like a dog gone soft, you could hear the clashing of pots and pans and opening and closing of cupboards behind you, until the cooking tray was placed on the counter beside your bowl, where the batter was coming along nicely.

jason tore off a square bit of parchment paper, and lay it upon the tray, where the corners curled, but otherwise stayed on, then he peeled open the bag of powder sugar. "how much do i put?" he asked, glancing over at you, hand hovering above the flour.

"not too much just yet, but we'll probably have to add more later."

and so his hand disappeared into the bag, and when it reappeared, he sprinkled a good serving of sugar along the countertop.

"perfect," you hummed once again. "next what we're gonna do is take the batter and press it down, then use the star cut-outs."

"we have to put our hands in that?" jason groaned, although playfully, you knew.

with a casual shrug, you began digging your hand into the zimtsterne mixture and pulled out a chunk to roll into a ball in your palms. "i mean, i could always do it by myself — if baking is too difficult for you."

a massive shoulder came into view, and jason's hand dunked into the bowl. "hell no! i can bake."

eyes closely watching the movement of your hands, jason rolled the amount of dough into a ball between his palms. then, once you'd placed your dough on the powdered sugar, pressed it down with the heel of your palm, jason followed suit.

you reached across the counter for the small star cutter, and sunk it down into the dough. "and... there! it's a little cinnamony star."

despite the grit and sheer size of him, in your company, jason todd was small, all soft touches and blush along cheeks.

as you carefully placed your star atop the parchment paper, jason took the small metal cutter in his calloused fingers, skilled in pulling the trigger.

he was careful as he pushed the cutter into the dough, glancing over at you a couple times as though he were doing something wrong.

somehow reading his mind, you reached over, hands placing them atop of his, spreading them in the muck of the dough you'd made, though jason didn't seem to mind; he'd had worse on his hands. "you're doing great," you smiled softly. "to get a clean cut you need to shake it a bit now."

and, with a laugh, your grip on jason's hands tightened slightly, and you helped jiggle the star cutter, separating his little biscuit from the rest of the dough, which you could reuse for another zimtsterne star.

a breath brushing past your ear, jason gave that kind, boyish laugh, and when you glanced over your shoulder, his eyes had halved into crescents, little moon shining down on the kitchen. "this is the strangest thing i've ever done."

perpetual smile by his side, you pulled away and tore the remaining dough from around the cookie cutter, pressing it into a sugared mound to be used again. "put that one next to my star on the tray," you ordered, although kind. "i'm gonna put more sugar down."

with ginger movements, jason lay his dough zimtsterne star down upon the parchment paper, a few inches from the one you'd made. eyeing him for a moment, to make sure his biscuit was far enough away from yours, you dunked your hand into the pink bag of icing sugar.

with a soft smile you made a nice comment on jason's placement; he was just about to reply when everything went white.

it must've caught through the gaps in your fingers while you weren't looking, must've been more than you'd meant to grab, for the powdered sugar hit the sleek countertop, and jumped back up in a whisp.

jason donned a white tuft of hair in his raven normally, but when the sugary fog began to clear, you could barely tell where the original streak ended and where it began.

your powder-covered hand shot to your agape mouth. "holy— that was an accident, i swear!"

his emerald eyes blinked open, sending some more snow-white dust into the air as it bounced off his eyelashes.

in one swift swoop, jason reached up to his blizzard of hair, and stretched out his hand over your face. you didn't need a mirror to know you probably looked like a snowman slapped you — but this action only caused room for ammunition, your dropped jaw setting and clenching as you pulled your arm back and launched.

the remnants of icing sugar in your palm exploded through the air, and whatever didn't land on the floor or counter (and most of the parchment paper) certainly his jason.

you could see in the way he lurched forward, but halted himself, that he was purposely holding back; you'd seen the way he would react when dick or tim tried to one-up him at the dinner table at the wayne family dinners you'd been brought to, or when training. his instincts are primal.

but, beneath the avalanche of icing sugar, his lips thinned. letting out a small sigh, jason shook his head, sending powdered sugar down onto the counter, where you could make your next zimtsterne star.

he gave a joking scoff. "you should be grateful i love you, or else this whole kitchen would be white."

it was a one-off sentence, supposed to be casual as he took the mound of dough in his hand to press flat against the monstrosity of sugar on the countertop. but it caused you to freeze, right in your place, hand gripping the edge of the counter falling slack.

jason hadn't seemed to notice.

he continued palming the dough until it was flat, but thick enough to be carved into a star, and reached for the cutter, content smile etched into his white powdery face.

"what did you say?"

your voice, however, was small.

even after a year now, neither of you had said the words he just had; you knew he had issues with attachment and relationships, so you supposed it just had never crossed your mind that he would... love you.

jason glanced up casually, shaking the star-shaped cookie cutter and placing down the new biscuit on the tray with the others. "oh, i was just saying that you're lucky, because if you were timothy drake, it would be over."

"no, no, you didn't say that." two steps forward, small, uncertain, but curious, aching to hear it again, make sure you weren't dreaming.

you placed a hand on his elbow, urging him to turn and look at you, which left a snowy handprint along his flesh. once he had carefully pushed the dough onto the tray, he placed the metal cut-out back on the counter and turned. "maybe not verbatim, but that's what i meant."

seeing the urgent look in your eyes, his smile faltered, but the lines it had made remained in the sugar.

"you said... you said you love me."

as the words left your lips, jason's eyes widened, and his body shuddered as if to stagger away from you, but your grip on his elbow tightened and didn't allow him.

"jason, is that true?"

beneath the powdered sugar, his bottom lip gave a tremour. "i... i guess i did say that."

your thumb brushed carefully over the bone of his elbow. "it's okay if it's true, i just want to know." trying to convince him he was safe — that you were safe — your voice softened, and you forced your body out of its initial shock.

but he didn't respond, only lips thinning, stare remaining still, like he'd been caught out on a really bad lie.

"i think so," he mused quietly, almost... afraid?

instinctively, your grip tightened once more upon his elbow, and you leaned in, eyebrows raised, a smile widening by the moment. "you love me?" it was spoken more like a song, more like it were an accomplishment than a question.

jason's bottom lip quivered, and when he spoke he sounded rather shaky, but he put on a brave, sugar-covered face. "is there– is there a problem with that?"

not minding the powder on your hands — and you hoped he wouldn't either — you leapt forward, engulfing his tough frame with a hug so tight it was possible all the knots in his back unwound at your touch. jason stumbled back, one sugared arm finding the small of your back and the other taking hold of the counter's edge to stabilise him.

sugar dusted itself along his breastbone, where you pressed your face into him. "oh, i didn't want to scare you away, or say anything i shouldn't," you began, voice extraordinarily muffled, until you pulled away to finish, gazing into his eyes, the only colour besides white on his face. "but i love you, jason. i really, really love you."

feeling suddenly shy at your sudden confession, your fingers toyed absently with the fabric of jason's once-black shirt, and your teeth sank awkwardly into your bottom lip.

but jason didn't hide away; he didn't contort into fear or anger. instead, his body sunk into yours, a warmth comparible to that of the pre-heated oven behind you. any uncertainty in those brilliant eyes of his seeped out through the corners, creating a coccoon of watery sugar beneath his lashes.

one of your hands came away from his back, and lay itself upon his cheek. an equally as powdery thumb swiped carefully beneath his eye — jason didn't even flinch.

all he could think was how stupid he was to have ruined the moment, not even thinking as he spoke, but also that he had finally admitted it out loud, and that you had reciprocated without any semblance of hesitation.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan When You're Pregnant

I got baby fever rn, some here's some headcanons for when you get pergananant (am I pergot?) with Lo's baby

(breeding kink go brrrrr)(nsfw section below the fluff stuff)

First off, I think we can all agree that no matter what variant Logan it is, whether it's planned or an accident, he's gonna freak out initially when you both find out your pregnant

He'll keep the initial freakout under wraps though.

70s!Dofp Logan, Old man Logan, and Trilogy Logan would probably be the most freaked out

The others, like Origins, Future DOFP, who are a bit more settled in would probably be more ready

Worst Logan? You're gonna need to give him a hug

Moving on

They all step up though, don't worry

Even 70s DOFP, he may be a menace but he sure as hell ain't gonna leave you or his baby alone

ANYWAY

Logan is so supportive of you. He'll constantly be checking on you. He'll be nesting almost immediately so get ready

He will definitely become more protective too. Like a lot. He'll try his best to not be overbearing but he's went lot of his life losing those he loves. He absolutely cannot afford to lose you and ya'lls baby

Lets say for this that you two are in an established relationship, planned or not, I'll leave that to ya'lls lovely imaginations

hes there for every doctors trip, exam, sonogram, etc etc. he doesn't miss a thing and holds your hand the entire time

The first trimester is rough. Mood swings, morning sickness, aches and pain. Logan handles your mood swings like a pro. He always knows just what to say, and he never really can take it personal when you get an attitude with him- mainly bc he likely deserved it with his own sarcasm

He's patient with you when you get snippy at him. He'll give you space when you need it, or will be extra attentive. Whatever you want. He's learned to read your emotions

He'll hold your hair back and rub your back whenever the morning sickness hits. Get you some tea, maybe a little toast if you feel like you can hold it down

One day you just couldn't hold anything down, by evening you're in tears, frustrated with everything. You attempted to eat some saltines and couldn't even hold those down. You're crying on the bathroom floor and Logan sits with you, cradling you in his arms as he says soothing things,

"You're so strong bub. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here."

You'll get backrubs and footrubs anytime you want

The food cravings and constantly being hungry becomes a lot too. It's fortunate that Logan had learned to be a decent cook over time.

He'll insist that you eat only healthy good foods for the baby, but when you look at him with pouty lips and pleading eyes because you REALLY want that extra cheese pizza topped with extra pepperonis and peppers, along with those garlic knots, and chocolate chip peanut butter ice cream, AND caramel sea salt chocolates. He has to give in. he's grabbing his keys and wallet to get what you want

Listen, you totally want to eat healthy for the baby too, and you do! You take your vitamins, you incorporate so much fruit and veggies and whatever else in your meals

But dammit sometimes that baby just wants fries dipped in ice cream and you learned how to sneak those unhealthy snacks under Logans radar

(or so you think, hes' got heightened sense of smell. he DEFINITELY smells the weird junk food you're sneaking)

You're tossing and turning one night, feeling restless and just wanting to eat. You wake him up, chatty as hell and eventually you tell him you want something to eat

"Bub you just had a whole meal 2 hours ago"

"I know just something small. Like a poptart. or a rice krispie"

He sighs. "No more poptarts or rice kripies. I'll make you something."

He closes his eyes, expecting to get another few minutes of sleep before he goes to the kitchen, but he can't feel you staring at him. Hard. He took a breath, pushing the blankets off as he got himself out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make you a good healthy snack

don't worry, he's not mad. he actually finds he loves the pregnancy quirks of yours

when you start getting those random hormone rushes, bursts of energy, running around doing anything and everything he gets so amused. but he loves it too when you also start getting sleepy

he really loves it when you get sleepy because then all you want to do is snuggle with him.

you get borderline violent about cuddling with him. you wrap your entire self around his body and you do not let go. even with his strength it's nearly impossible to peel you off him and if he does (he made the mistake once) you get extremely pissy and teary eyed

He will not let you do anything

and by that i mean you're not carrying groceries, you're not cleaning, you are not allowed to stand on ladders or counters, no picking up heavy things

You and him have a time of night and morning where you snuggle, and he'll designate time to talk to you, give you kisses and say sweet things, and then he'll move to talk to your belly

"Gotta make sure the lil one knows my voice"

He loves resting his ear on your belly, hearing both of your heartbeats.

he'll give you a kiss, then the belly, then you again

You better be ready to be touched a lot. He's always gotta put his hand on you somehow. It's not just about feeling your preggo belly but just you too.

NESTING

yeah, hes gonna drive you insane. He gets the urge to redo everything. the babys room. your room. the entire house/apartment if you're living in one.

He makes your bed the comfiest spot every so that's a perk. tons of pillows, only the fluffiest and warmest blankets

while you make decisions on the babys room together, he really wants to put the stuff together, so you sit in your rocking chair in the room and watch him as he gets angry over the crib instructions

it's really cute when he insists on a more foresty/woodland themed room for your baby.

As you get bigger, he gets more and more protective

he actually growled at someone once for attempting to touch your belly without permission. not a bad thing to have at least

it's a little more embarrassing though when it's your friends that you did say could touch your belly and logans hackles raise over it

he tries to recognize when he's doing too much but he can't help it, instinct.

Logan is over the moon when the baby kicks the face time

he just happened to have his hands resting on your belly

when he felt it, you both jumped, staring at your belly and then each other

when you realized it was the baby kicking, you both were like giddy teenagers

logan puts his head against your belly, waiting for it when the baby kicks again- right on his face

he gets slightly offended

but he kisses your belly anyway, promising your baby that he's always going to love them and take care of them

it pulls on your heart strings a bit

you and logan don't care if it's a boy or girl- and decide to leave it a surprise,

arguing over baby names though wasn't fun. you eventually though land on a name if its a girl, and a name if its a boy, names that you both adored

when you start shopping for baby clothes, logans looking at the little girl dresses and you could see the softness on his face, the way he adored the little dresses.

he can't even get embarrassed

it's so cute watching logan sit in the middle of the girly baby aisle, surrounded by pink bows.

he gets equally excited over the boys stuff too.

forever believe logan will just be a great dad in general

when you get big enough where doing things are hard on your own, logan starts definitely not leaving you alone very often

he helps you out of bed

with your shoes

if hes around and you're trying to get up from a couch or chair- even if you aren't struggling he'll still be there to help you up

you ever see those trends where dads hold mommas belly up to provide some relief? logan will insist on doing that.

he just thinks your so damn cute with your round belly

logan will eventually express his nerves about being a father. he'll need reassurance here and there that you think he'll do good.

you think logan would be an absolutely wonderful father of course. look how good he takes care of you

not to mention his non-bio daughters like jubilee, rogue, and kitty

and if lauras around too, it won't be like he never had any experience

logan will definitely stay calm and collected when you go into labor

he supports you every step of the way

if you're going to a local hospital, you bet your ass he'll be speaking for you and protecting you from anything unneccessary

all the while supporting you every way possible. don't worry about squeezing his hand too hard. he literally survived a nuke

despite the amount of things he's seen, it is still hard for him to see you in so much pain. he may even hold back a tear or two. he has to focus on you though

when the baby is here, he's all over you first, making sure you're okay. then his instincts kick in and he's all over the baby

that first cry breaks his heart and he doesn't like how the nurses and doctors seemed pleased by the whole thing. okay sure, it's a good thing. his baby is still crying though and he doesn't appreciate the smiling

you guys ever see that picture of Hugh bottlefeeding his newborn, i think it was during the x-movies filming. that is such a cute picture honestly it makes my utereus clench

he's so proud and supportive of you by the way. He takes wonderful care of you both when you get home

all that worrying for nothing. he was a pro with yours and his baby.

NSFW (mention piv, breastmilk, body worship)

yes i had to include an nsfw part here dont judge me

Logan should have known it would happen eventually. the way he always needs to finish inside you. even if you were using protection, he should have known that it would fail one day

he'll pick up on the hormones quickly, the smell of you triggers something in him and once you both figure out you'll pregnant itll all make sense

at first things are pretty usual with your sex life but the hormones start kicking in

you start gaining a little fat, your breasts get bigger, maybe your ass

you were already irresistable to logan before. now though, pregnant with his baby?

like i said, the mans always touching on you. when youre in private though hes REALLY touching you

don't worry, you feel the same. your hormones start to really kick in and you're aroused 24/7 and he can smell it

"you look so fucking good like this bub." he'll moan when he's thrusting into you, seeing your swollen belly and breasts.

it's not just about you being pregnant but you two just can't keep your hands off each other because you're happy.

your sex life was already very active, now it's even MORE active, like, you cannot keep your hands off him. he's the same way. you look and smell so damn good he can't take it, he HAS to fuck you

logan being a dad to your baby is making him 10 times hotter

logan probably cuts back on being rougher if you both are into that, much to your disdain. your hormones are on fire and you need him to fuck you hard

it takes a little begging and he breaks, giving you what you want

"look at you bub, fucking begging for it. as if i hadn't given you enough already"

logan practically drools anytime he sees you naked

as you get really big, sex becomes less common because you're not really comfortable, and maybe doctors tell yalls to slow it down for a bit.

logan will of course not do anything to risk you or the baby but fuck when you walk around in that tight black dress, tits and belly all swollen. he can barely stand it.

fortunately even if you aren't having penetrative sex, you're still fairly aroused so logan gets to get off to your hand or mouth. he'll return the favor with some light oral

he'll want to help you shower all the time

you're just so beautiful to him.

when you start getting self conscious over your weight gain, logan won't have it. he'll be doing some serious body worship doing your pregnancy, don't worry.

kissing your stretch marks, his hand rubbing soothingly all over your body as he whispers how beautiful you are

when it's closer to your due date, the doctor gives you a list of recommendations to help get things rolling

when logan finds out sex is one of those things, he's over the moon.

you personally, just want to get the mini canadian out of there at this point

it's not the first thing you try, because youre self conscious despite logans affirmations that he thinks you're so sexy

eventually you give in

lets just say you both were on the way to labor and delivery soon after

he adores your body after birth too. like i said. body worship to the maximum. even when you're not banging cause you need to heal first, he's kissing every inch of you to make sure you know he adores you. he sees how you've looked at yourself in the mirror and he isn't gonna have it

oh btw he'll definitely accidentally taste your breast milk straight from the source at some point. he really doesn't do it on purpose, he just got lost in kissing and sucking on you.

lost in the sauce if you may

he wants you to heal and feel good though, so even after the 3 months are up, he'll want to wait a little longer, because he doesn't want to hurt you. he's a big man.

EXTRAS: (random stuff )

the people who are around you are ecstatic over the announcement of your pregnancy

charles is just glad he gets to be a grandpappy (as if he isn't already)

maybe jean and scott are expecting too, or already have their little one, so you guys bond with the couple over parenting as well

wade immediately refers to himself as uncle wade

will also say "our baby" when referring to you and logans baby. logan does not like that.

wade makes a deadpool onesie. you have to stop logan from tearing it apart

okay but a onesie based on logans suit would be so goddamn cute

i said before that logan doesn't like ANYONE touching your belly. even if it's a trusted friend

if someone asks, very politely, you have to make sure logan isn't around before you say yes.

one time hank asked and you said yes, not realizing logan was coming around the corner. it was really embarrassing the way logan ran up so fast, immediately pushing hanks hand off.

hank laughed it off

im sure yall have your own ideas for what yours and logans baby names would be. I think Charlie would be really cute, naming the baby after charles (and it's a gn name!)

rogue, jubilee, and kitty, would be over the moon. they would be so supportive of you and logan

laura would be so excited, a bit curious. you and logan will make sure she doesn't in anyway feel neglected or replaced during the entire pregnancy and when the baby comes

laura is obviously a great big sister.

they would definitely tease logan too btw

you guys don't even need to register. due to the people you love around you- you basically get everything you need before you 3rd trimester even starts

you and logan can be assured that your baby will always be safe and loved no matter what because of the family you both have found. (yes even with origins and old man logan)

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi, can you please do Fisting with Lewis Hamilton. Maybe like reader and Lewis are trying something new and possibly an age gap relationship

An: Good morning! I hope everyone is having an amazing day!!

TW: MDNI 18+ Fisting, age gap

WC: 1k+

Y/N POV

We had finally settled down in Maranello after a long few days.

"Lew, I saw something I kind of want to try but I'm scared you're gonna think it's weird," I admit softly while crawling into the lap of my older boyfriend.

"What is it love," Lewis asks softly while rubbing my sides up and down in a soothing manner.

"I don't even know if I can say it," I admit feeling my cheeks heat up just thinking about what I'm about to say.

"Hey, you know I will never judge you for something you want to try," Lewis tries to reassure me. I nod my head softly feeling myself fidget a little getting turned on just thinking about it.

"I saw a video when I was touching myself a few days ago..." I start feeling my hips slowly start to grind slowly into Lewis's hardening crotch.

"You didn't tell me you needed some relief," Lewis whispers leaning down and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Anyways, I want you to fist me," I spit out the words as fast as I can hoping Lewis knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"You wanna feel my whole hand stretching that pretty pussy out?" Lewis asks with a smirk written all over his face. The grip he has on my hips only tightens while he helps me grind harder down into his crotch.

"If it's too weird I'm sorry," I whine feeling my panties start to dampen making Lewis release his grip on my hips and move his hands to grip my face gently making me look at him.

"It's not weird, if it's gonna make my girl feel good than we are gonna stretch this pretty pussy out to take my fist," Lewis tells me before pulling my face towards him and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

Lewis got the both of us moved to the bedroom where he undressed me completely and undressed himself down to his boxer briefs letting me see his hard cock pressing again the fabric of his briefs.

"Are you ready?" Lewis asks softly while running his fingers through my soaked folds making me moan while nodding my head softly.

I notice Lewis quickly pull off the rings on his right hand gently placing them on my fingers before kissing my hand before bringing his now bare fingers back to my pussy.

Lewis easily slips two fingers deep into my pussy making me moan at the feeling of him filling me up.

Lewis fucks my pussy for a few seconds before he slips a third finger in making me gasp at the slight stretch.

"Take my fingers so good," Lewis whispers before leaning down and kissing my inner thigh in a soothing manner.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis's fingers continue to fuck into my G-spot before slipping his pinky finger to join the other three making me tense up in a loud moan.

"Come on relax love," Lewis whispers softly while using his free hand to rub my thigh trying to get me to relax.

"It's a lot," I gasp while trying to relax to let Lewis continue to fuck my pussy.

"You can do it," Lewis encourages while slowly starting to pump his four fingers in and out of my pussy trying to loosen me up enough to be able to slip his thumb into my pussy.

"Feels so good," I moan when Lewis starts picking up pace with his finger fucking.

Lewis slows his fingers down knowing if he makes me cum right now it'll be too sensitive to keep going. I can feel Lewis using his free hand to softly start rubbing my clit before I feel Lewis folding his thumb in softly trying to stretch my pussy enough to be able to take his whole hand.

"Relax baby," Lewis comments when I tense up so much that Lewis can no longer move his hand that he's still trying to fill me up with.

"Fuck Lew! It's so big," I gasp out while trying to relax to let Lewis continue pushing in.

"You can take it baby," Lewis says while pushing in a little bit more making me moan at the pleasurable burn of the stretch. I can tell Lewis is close to being able to slip the rest of his hand in.

"Just push it in!" I moan loudly which had Lewis pinching my inner thigh hard making me whine from the pain but during the pinch he pushes the rest of his fist deep into my pussy making me scream in pleasured pain.

"Fuck Lewis!" I scream out never being stretched this wide before.

"Fuck, you took my full fist baby," Lewis comments while slowly starting to move his fist deep in my pussy making me moan loudly.

"So much," I mumble getting lost in the pleasure.

"Doing so good for me, you gonna cum like this?" Lewis teases knowing damn well I was getting close to cumming for him.

Lewis uses his other hand to start teasing my throbbing clit making me moan loudly while he starts fucking into my pussy faster and faster making me arch my back off the bed at how close I'm getting to cumming.

"Cum for me," Lewis groans while rubbing my clit even faster throwing me over the edge almost instantly.

"Fuck!" I cry out when I fall over the edge squirting all over both Lewis and I. I could feel myself starting to cum once again letting my second orgasm wash over me blending into my first one.

"Oh God," I cry feeling my orgasms start blending together in one overstimulating mess.

Once Lewis helps ride out my orgasm he slowly starts pulling a his fist from my pussy making me moan and whimper from the over stimulation.

Once his fist pops out of my pussy I can feel how much my pussy is gaping and when I notice Lewis staring I can't help but feel slightly embarrassed.

"Fuck that's so hot," Lewis groans before leaning down and taking a teasing lick out of my overstimulated clit making me jump at the contact.

"Did so good for me," Lewis groans while pulling himself back up to place a kiss on my lips.

----

The end

Sorry for not posting yesterday but my goal is to post 3 or 4 more times today but absolutely no promises

[hy6erion]

Hii! Could I pretty please request a jayce×reader smut. I was thinking about collage!jayce and reader having a game night with friends. In the heat of the moment, playing some game where you are dependent on other's players willingness (like how in catan you can trade with other players or in monopoly you can buy the get out of jail card from someone), reader was really close to winning and just needed jayce to sell her something or trade with her or whatever and said something along the line of "I'll suck you off just trade with me", half joking (everyone laughing, jayce gives in etc...). And after everyone's gone home he's just there like "so... that was a joke, right". Just pathetic desperate jayce because that who he is.

~🍒

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤- 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

⇢𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞!!, 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐲 (´ ω `♡) 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐎𝐡𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞....

The apartment is packed, the living room floor covered in game boards, beer bottles, and half-eaten snacks.

The air is thick with the kind of competitive energy that only comes from college students taking a game night way too seriously. You're sprawled out on the couch, eyes locked on the board in front of you, planning your next move with the intensity of someone about to make history.

Jayce is across from you, lounging back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushions, the other lazily holding his cards. He's been giving you shit all night, blocking your trades, refusing to sell you what you need, smirking every time you groan in frustration. Smug, cocky, completely in his element.

You're one move away from winning.

One stupid trade away. And of course, the only person who has what you need is Jayce fucking Talis. You glance at his cards, then at his face, and sigh dramatically.

"Jayce, come on. Just trade with me."

He grins, tapping his fingers against his chin like he's deep in thought, though you both know he's just drawing this out to be annoying.

"Mmm, nah. I don't think I will."

You throw your hands up. "Jayce, be serious. I literally just need that one fucking card."

He shrugs, clearly enjoying watching you suffer. "And I literally just don't feel like trading."

Groans erupt around the room. Vi shakes her head. "Jayce, just give it to her. It's not that deep."

Jayce smirks. "Nope."

You narrow your eyes, leaning forward, playing up the frustration, letting your voice drop into something sweet, teasing. "Jayce," you say, slow, deliberate, "I will literally suck your dick if you just trade with me."

The room goes silent for half a second before erupting into laughter.

Mel chokes on her drink. Caitlyn smacks Vi on the arm, doubling over.

Ekko leans back, eyebrows raised, looking genuinely impressed.

Jayce, though-Jayce freezes. His mouth opens slightly, like his brain is trying to catch up with his body, like the words are sinking in too slow. His eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something shift.

Something desperate, something raw.

But then the laughter drags him back, and he forces out a chuckle, shaking his head like it's nothing.

"You're so full of shit," he mutters, handing over the card with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. Take it. Jesus."

You grab it, grinning, and slam it onto the board. "That's game!" Cheers and groans echo through the room as you throw your hands up in victory, barely catching the way Jayce watches you, barely noticing the way he doesn't laugh as easily as the others.

—

The night winds down after that, everyone packing up, finishing drinks, stretching as they gather their things.

One by one, they leave, Vi and Caitlyn arguing about some rule from earlier, Mel throwing you a knowing look before disappearing out the door.

Jayce is still sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, his hands flexing against his thighs like he's trying to get himself under control. He hasn't moved since the door shut behind your last friend. Just staring, lips parted, golden-brown eyes locked onto you like he's still processing what happened hours ago.

Like he's been waiting.

Like he's barely holding himself together.

You stretch, pretending not to notice the way his gaze drops to the sliver of skin revealed where your hoodie rides up. "Guess I should clean up."

Jayce swallows hard. His voice is rough, low, almost careful when he finally speaks. "So, uh... that was a joke, right?"

You turn, giving him an innocent look.

"What was?"

He drags a hand down his face, groaning. "You know what."

You blink, tilting your head, playing dumb. "You mean when I said l'd suck your dick if you traded with me?"

Jayce actually whimpers.

His head drops back against the couch, his fingers tightening on his thighs, and you swear you see him press his knees together like he's physically trying to stop himself from reacting. He looks wrecked, already ruined, like he's been holding onto the thought all fucking night. His cock twitches in his sweats, barely concealed, already half-hard just from hearing you say it again.

"Fuck," he mutters, eyes squeezed shut. "Don't say it like that."

You bite back a grin, stepping closer, watching the way his breath shudders when you move toward him. "Why not?"

Jayce opens his eyes, and he looks so desperate it almost makes you laugh.

His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his whole body tense like he's about to snap. "Because," he groans, shifting in his seat, looking down at where his cock is already straining against his sweats, "I've been hard since you said it, okay?"

You blink. "Wait."

Jayce groans again, covering his face with one hand. "Since the game."

You stare, heat curling in your stomach. "Jayce."

He lets his head drop back again, groaning into his palm. "Fuck. I knew it. You're gonna make fun of me."

You smirk, stepping between his knees, reaching out to tug his hand away from his face. "Oh, I'm absolutely going to make fun of you."

Jayce lets out the most pathetic little noise, somewhere between a whimper and a plea. His thighs spread wider, inviting, instinctive, like he wants you to take advantage of him. His breath is heavy, ragged, like just the thought of what's about to happen is ruining him. "I-fuck, I don't care. Just-" He swallows, golden-brown eyes flicking up to yours, dark and pleading. "Just, please. Please..."

You drag your fingers down his chest, watching the way his abs tense, feeling how warm his skin is through the fabric. "So desperate," you murmur, grinning.

Jayce nods immediately. "Yeah. Yeah, i'm desperate. So fucking desperate. You've been teasing me all night, and I-fuck-please, just-"

You don't even let him finish before you drop to your knees between his spread thighs. His whole body jerks, a shuddered gasp escaping his lips as his head falls back against the couch.

His hands tremble where they grip the cushions. "Fuck."

You trail your fingers over the outline of his cock, feeling how hard, how thick, how absolutely wrecked he already is. He twitches under your touch, his hips lifting slightly, chasing any friction. "You've been sitting here like this all night?" you hum, pressing your palm down just to hear him whine.

Jayce nods frantically, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop thinking about you on your knees, about that pretty mouth-oh, fuck-"

You squeeze lightly, watching him tremble. "Then you should've just asked, Jayce."

He groans, his hips bucking up into your touch, his hands fisting the couch like he's trying not to just grab your head and make you take him already. "Please," he begs, voice wrecked, desperate.

"Please, I can't-| need-"

You grin. "You need what?"

Jayce actually sobs. "Please suck my cock."

Who are you to deny him?

—

Jayce is in heaven.

Completely fucking gone, wrecked, brainless with pleasure, golden-brown eyes fluttering shut, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate gasps as you work him over. He's sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, hands gripping the cushions like he's barely holding himself together. His body is shaking-tensing and shuddering with every slow, deliberate slide of your lips over his cock.

You hum around him, letting your tongue drag along the underside, teasing, making him feel every inch of it. He chokes on a whimper, his hips jerking up instinctively before he forces himself back down, knowing better than to move without permission.

"F-fuck-" His voice wobbles, high and needy, already so desperate, already so far gone. His fingers twitch against the couch, itching to grab your hair, to pull, to push— but he doesn't. Because you didn't tell him he could.

You pull back slightly, letting his cock slip from your lips with an obscene wet sound, stroking him slow, teasing.

"You wanna touch me, Jayce?"

His head snaps up, nodding frantically, golden-brown eyes glassy, pleading. "Y-yeah-oh, f-fuck-please, please-"

You hum, dragging your fingers up his thigh, tracing patterns against his skin, watching as he shudders, barely able to handle even the softest touch. "Mmm. I don't know, baby. You're not really being patient, are you?"

Jayce whimpers.

Actually, fucking whimpers. His abs clench, his cock twitching against your palm, already leaking, already so fucking needy.

"I-I-fuck—" His breath shatters, his head tipping back against the couch, his lips parting in the prettiest moan as you squeeze around his length. "I'll be good-I'll be s-so good for you, I swear-"

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly over his stomach, watching him suck in a breath, his whole body going tense. "You sure about that?"

Jayce nods frantically, his hands still fisting the couch, his thighs trembling beneath your palms. "Y-yeah-yes, I swear, I swear-p-please-"

You lean in, licking a slow stripe along the head of his cock, teasing him with just the tip of your tongue. His whole body jerks, a wrecked sob breaking from his throat.

"F-fuck-oh, f-fuck-" His voice cracks, completely pathetic, completely desperate. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move, doesn't touch, doesn't do anything he's not allowed to.

"Good boy," you murmur, wrapping your lips around him again, sinking down, taking him deep, swallowing around him as you feel his whole body seize up beneath you.

Jayce lets out the most broken moan.

His hands fly up— hovering-not grabbing, not pushing, just trembling in the air like he doesn't know what to do with himself. His brain is melting, crumbling, breaking apart at the edges.

"Oh, f-fuck, baby-" His voice is high and breathless, so fucking gone already. His hips twitch, his thighs shake, his golden-brown eyes flutter shut as he lets out the prettiest fucking gasp.

"You feel so good-ohhh-f-feel so perfect, s-so fucking perfect, love your mouth, baby, f-fuck, love you s-so much-"

You hum, taking him deeper, sucking hard, watching his abs flex, watching his head tip back, completely wrecked.

Jayce whines.

Loud, desperate, needy. His fingers twitch in the air before he finally lets them settle on your head, not pushing, just petting, just stroking, his voice breaking as he babbles more nonsense.

"You're s-so good-s-so good to me, baby, s-so fucking perfect, I-love you, love your mouth, I-love the way you— oh, f-fuck-"

His hips twitch forward before he jerks back, groaning, forcing himself still. "S-sorry, baby, s-sorry-f-fuck-w-won't move, I promise-"

You grin around him, dragging your nails down his thighs, watching him shudder, his cock pulsing against your tongue. "You're so obedient," you murmur, voice warm, teasing.

"Such a desperate little thing for me, huh?"

Jayce lets out the neediest fucking moan you've ever heard.

"Yes-ohhh, f-fuck-yes, f-fuck, I'm-" His voice shatters, his hands fisting in your hair, still not pulling, still just holding on for dear fucking life.

He's so fucking close. You can feel it in the way he tenses beneath you, in the way his breath comes out in uneven little gasps, in the way his hips jerk forward before he whimpers, forcing himself back down.

"B-baby, please-" His voice cracks, golden-brown eyes wide and pleading, so fucking gone for you.

"P-please, sweetheart, I-let me cum, please-"

And fuck—

You let him.

[solxamber]

Deuce, Romantic, "Again/I wanna be your lover, I don't wanna be your friend" by Noah Cyrus.

"I wanna be your lover" || Deuce Spade

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Again by Noah Cyrus

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 730

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to lovers

Deuce is your best friend. He always has been. Through thick and thin, through the chaos of life, through every scuffle, every test, every late-night cram session—he’s been there. Steadfast, reliable, a comforting constant in your life.

And maybe that’s what terrifies you the most.

Because if he’s always been there, what happens if you break this? If you take a step too far, cross that fragile boundary, and realize you were better off as friends? What if you ruin the best thing you have?

But Deuce—Deuce loves you. He doesn’t just like you, doesn’t just think you’re fun to be around. No, he loves you in that stupidly obvious way that makes Ace roll his eyes, in that devoted, borderline puppy-eyed way that makes Riddle sigh in exasperation.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.

It’s in the way he always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, subtly shielding you from passing vehicles.

It’s in the way he keeps extra snacks in his bag, always offering them to you first, even if it means going hungry himself. It’s in the way he watches you—like you’re something too precious for this world, something he’s terrified of losing.

But you’re scared. So you pretend you don’t see it.

One evening, you’re sitting outside, eating snacks on the dorm steps. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon, the sky painted in streaks of orange and lilac. It’s peaceful, the kind of quiet that settles between two people who have known each other forever.

Deuce is sitting close, his knee bumping against yours. He’s laughing at something you said, eyes crinkled, dimples showing, and it’s so easy. This has always been easy.

You think about how much you love him—about how warm he makes you feel, about how you never feel lonely when he’s around. And that terrifies you more than anything.

So you look away.

And then, as if he’s been holding it back for years, Deuce speaks. His voice is quiet, hesitant, but firm.

"I wanna be your lover. I don’t wanna be just your friend."

Your breath catches.

You turn to him, wide-eyed, unsure if you heard correctly. But the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, so painfully honest—leaves no room for misinterpretation.

"Deuce—"

"I mean it." His hands curl into fists, his heart beating out of his chest. "I—I don’t want to just be the guy you call when you need help, or the guy who’s always there, waiting in the background. I love being your friend, but I want more than that. I need more than that."

You’re frozen.

Because you do love him. You love him so much it scares you. But what if you mess this up? What if you say yes, and it ruins everything? What if—

"Please," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "Just tell me if there’s a chance. I don’t need anything else—just tell me if there’s a chance."

You stare at him.

And suddenly, all the fear, all the uncertainty, all the worries screaming in your head—none of them matter.

Because this is Deuce.

Your Deuce.

The boy who has been by your side since day one. The boy who holds his heart in his hands, offering it to you without hesitation, without expectation—just hoping you’ll take it.

You don’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, you reach forward, cupping his face with trembling hands, and pull him in.

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t hesitate. The moment your lips meet, he melts—like he’s been waiting for this, dreaming of this, for so long.

And maybe you have been, too.

His hands find yours , pulling you closer, holding you like you might disappear. You feel his heart pounding against yours, fast and desperate, and you realize—he’s just as scared as you are.

But he still took the leap.

So maybe you can, too.

When you finally pull away, he looks at you like you just handed him the world.

"You—" He swallows, breathless. "You mean it?"

You smile, cheeks burning. "I wanna hear you say it again."

His eyes widen—then he grins, so purely happy that it makes your chest ache.

"I love you."

And you know—this is it.

This is home.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be hearing him say it again, and again, and again, for the rest of your life.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[voxslays]

FOUR ZERO SEVEN — THANOS

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, addiction, and angst. A/N: I hope you enjoy!

You were Thanos’ ex girlfriend. The once who had dumped him after months and months of trying to ‘fix’ his drug addiction. But it never worked—nothing ever really helped him. So you left. You thought by leaving, it might fix things—give him some air.

Little did you know at the time though—you were pregnant, with his child. You were actually already a few months along. How could you not have noticed sooner? You asked yourself angrily. Yet, you decided to keep the baby, vowing to create a good life for the child.

Your life went downhill from there. Working two to three shifts daily, never having time for yourself. You lived in a small two bedroom apartment you could barely afford as is. The walls seemed like they were closing in around you, until you found a man at a train station.

You played Ddakji with the man, and he gave you hope. Hope that your life could one day soon change for the better. Yet, when you surprisingly woke up in a bunk bed in a room with 455 others, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread.

After the first game, you finally understood that dread. It was fear. A fear that intensified as your ex walked up to you, likely high. He was wearing the same green and white striped tracksuit you were, but with the number 230 instead of your number 177.

“Señorita!” Thanos jests enthusiastically, pulling your smaller figure into his. “Long time no see, my girl.” He lets out a little ‘skrrr’ sound as he looks you up and down. “Su-bong.” You greet cautiously, instinctively rubbing your stomach.

Thanos watches your movements closely, then his eyes widen. He quickly pulls your jacket down to reveal your baby bump. He freezes then swallows hard. He slowly meets your eyes again. “How long?” He asks softly. Almost too softly. Almost like he was scared of the answer.

“Thanos, I-” Thanos interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his face into your hair and inhales your scent deeply. He holds you so tightly, like he was scared you’d disappear again. He speaks into your hair, his voice muffled. “It’s mine, isn’t it?

“Yes.” You whisper. He runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's pushed people to their deaths is now gently caressing your growing lower belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

Thanos runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's killed and tortured is now gently caressing your growing belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

His expression darkens as he steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His chocolate eyes flick down to your bump again before meeting your gaze, accusation plain. "What, were you just gonna hide it from me forever? Keep my kid a secret?"

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you’d care!” You snap back, hormones raging. "You should have told me, princess." He says. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, beginning to turn away. He grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. His grip is firm but not painful. He turns you back to face him, his expression softening a little.

"Don't fucking apologize for this." He gestures to your belly. "I'm not mad that you didn't tell me right away." Su-bong pauses. “Well do this together?” You ask hopefully. “Together.”