#gone drabble

[abcwordsurge]

"tell you what," quinn whispers, past midnight during the first night he spends at sam's house, "if I ever betray you, you can punch me." sam smiles and thinks that quinn could never do anything that would make sam want to punch him.

[shouyuus]

thinking about making out with hawks and his scruff tickling your skin when he shifts his mouth down to suck big, wet hickeys against your neck, you pulling at his hair giggling and groaning at the same time, him pulling back with a lazy grin and hooded eyes like "hm"? but when you tell him that his scruff is tickling you, all he does is blink before leaning down to purposefully rub it against your face, making you squeal and try to squirm away but he's fast, way faster than you, so he'd pin you to his side and nuzzle you till you're breathless with laughter, chest heaving --

how he'd go still, relax his hold on you till he's just holding you in his lap, his eyes soft as he watches you.

"what?" you ask, reaching up to thumb at the scraggly bits of hair on his chin.

"nothin'. just... like lookin' at you, that's all."

when you crinkle your nose and try to hide your face, he bends down to tug your arms away, nuzzling his nose against yours with a soft groan, "goddamnit you're so fuckin' cute..." before melding his mouth to yours once more and kissing you deep enough to sting.

when he pulls back this time, both of you are breathless and he's got that dark, half-focused look in his eyes that makes your stomach clench in anticipation -- when he hoists you up into his arms and makes for the bedroom, you loop your arms around his shoulders and all he says is --

"well, let's go see if your thighs are as ticklish as your neck is."

[dmitriene]

bend over simon's muscular lap, taking every single slap of his calloused palm that burns against your hot flesh, rounded asscheeks is raw red, scorching with pain that resonates through your whole body, jolting forward with your flesh naked, on display for him.

you take everything simon gives you, every painful minute and second of being spanked raw by him, feeling his hardened cock poking under your chest where you splayed on his leg, the fat girth what you'll receive afterward like a good girl, after he'll make you cum on his fingers.

thick digits that stretch your clenching hole, stuffing you full and deep where he fingers every pathetic sob and mewl out of your laxed mouth, salty tears mingling with drool as he makes you cum more than two times, wrenching your brain out of you each time your muscles seizing.

by the time simon lifts you up to splay you on your back, body boneless and head full of cotton, your thighs soaked and trembling with little cramps, fat cunt glossy with your own cum that stains his fingers down to the scarred knuckles, puffy, but when he unzips his pants, you let your legs fall apart obediently.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[christronomy]

channie was soooo surprised when he heard you talking dirty for the first time. he's usually the talkative one in bed, always the one who showers you with compliments, telling you how good you feel while he pounds into you. he can really get so into it, and he goes into detail, describing how tight you feel, sometimes he'll tell you how it looks when he fucks you by the mirror in your shared bathroom. "you're clamping down on me so fucking tight, baby... take it so well."

but he's so impressed when you start picking up on it, because he's never heard you say anything so filthy. if anything, you always got extremely flustered when he talked like that, and you had to cover your face with your hands cause of how red you got. you really caught him off gaurd one day in particular—he had you bent over the edge of the mattress, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark. he'd stuffed your underwear in your mouth to muffle your moans cause the boys were over, but you couldn't help the way your hands instinctively shot up to pull it away when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, gently tugging on it and pulling your head back enough to watch your fucked out expression. "fuck... you're so deep inside me, channie... so big..."

it caught him so off guard that he couldn't help but cum, a soft chuckle and a "fuck, baby..." leaving his lips as his palm covers your mouth to make you shut up, cause you definitely said that a little too loud, but it's not like he wasn't extra loud when he came anyways.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Survivor - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Yandere! Survivor who's at ground zero when the infected start attacking. Who watches the world turn to chaos in the blink of an eye.

Yandere! Survivor who's willing to face off against hordes of infected because he wants to live. Even if the grisly horror of it turns his stomach.

Yandere! Survivor who knows there isn't hope for anything. The army is scattered and helpless. The cities are overrun. The people don't have a chance in hell.

Yandere! Survivor who knows but fights anyway.

Yandere! Survivor who saves you from a whole pack of infected. Who can't belive his eyes when he sees you. The city is overrun with freaks and you're still wearing a pretty little sundress, not a single weapon in sight.

Yandere! Survivor who stands frozen when you hug him. Who can feel the way you're trembling, your fingers knotted into his shirt. Who finds his voice and promises to keep you safe. Somehow.

Yandere! Survivor who fights tooth and nail to get you out of the city. Who scavenges guns and ammo off dead soldiers and tries not to look into their milky, rotting eyes.

Yandere! Survivor who finally has someone to look out for and it makes the loneliness much more bearable.

Yandere! Survivor who gets stronger each day. Who can feel his muscles literally straining against his shirt.

Yandere! Survivor who tries to teach you self defence and fails miserably, because every time he has you pinned under him he can't help but get turned on.

Yandere! Survivor who inspects the hem of your sundress and let's his knuckles brush against your thighs. Who scoffs and tells you its way too flimsy to keep you safe, that a zombie could bite straight through it.

"Hell, I could rip it off without even trying."

Yandere! Survivor who loves how helpless and scared you are. Who feels a rush of pride every time a zombie shrieks and you immediately grab onto him.

Yandere! Survivor who quickly learns to trade with other survivors but to never let his guard down.

Yandere! Survivor who notices the way men stare at you. Like they're dying for a taste of you even worse than the zombies are. Who notices the way people talk about you like you belong to him.

'Your girl.'

Like you're his property or something.

Yandere! Survivor who feels a rush of pride every time it happens. And soon he starts thinking that way too. You're his responsibility therefore you are his.

Yandere! Survivor who never settles down or allies himself with other people. He doesn't trust them. But more than that, he doesn't trust them around you.

Yandere! Survivor who finds it easier and easier to kill the infected. And from there, it's just a small step to start killing the living.

Yandere! Survivor who slits the throats of an entire trading party because he heard them talking about you. In the morning, he tells you they just left early and that it's nothing to worry about.

Yandere! Survivor who doesn't let your disappointment linger when you have to leave camp and move on. Who constantly reminds you he's doing what's best for you.

Yandere! Survivor who insists on being with you when you bath in the rivers and lakes that dot the countryside. He'll keep his back turned for most of it, but inevitably he'll find an excuse to turn around and watch you. Your clothes always cling to you afterwards and he's throat always goes dry when they do.

Yandere! Survivor who takes any chance he can to share a bunk or sleeping bag with you. Who tosses his arm around your waist and tells you it's just to conserve heat.

Yandere! Survivor who knows there isn't a future for the world, but he'll be damned if he can't see one with you.

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

If you need more death eater Theodore 😌

[shoyoist]

thinking about hinata getting a tattoo of your name on his body somewhere while he's overseas for a game.

he even goes the extra mile and asks you, very innocently, to write your name out in cursive and send a picture of it to him — he said he'd put the picture on one of his lockscreens, and you'd bought the excuse!

so yeah, he gets a tattoo of your name in your cursive handwriting, on his body. maybe to one side at his waistline, or on his thigh where you'd usually sit, or on the back of his neck, or underneath his collarbone... or even on the left of his chest, right over his heart. ❤️

he thinks it's so romantic, thinks he's so smart to have gotten the idea to have it done in your own handwriting. he shows it off proudly to his team, and he's so excited to go back home to you. to show you your named inked out on his skin, with your own beautiful cursive in deep black.

except... he forgets.

it's a small tattoo that heals within a couple of weeks — and silly him, he gets distracted by the games, distracted by the electric glory of his wins, distracted by the after parties — so by the time he's on that flight back home to you, it's entirely slipped his mind.

you meet hinata at the airport, so glad to be reunited with your husband, and he sweeps you off your feet and kisses you soft and sweet and warm all over your face and neck. he tells you, "i missed you, sunshine." and squeezes you tight to his warm, heavy body— drawing in your smell and the feel of you like he's starved. like he was gone for years and not just two months. "i missed you, too, shoyo." you sigh, kissing him back.

and, well, it's only days later — two entire night of sharing the same bed again, two lazy mornings of cuddles and two dinner dates later — that you find out about the tattoo, and it's also only when you see it for yourself.

you're both getting undressed for a shower — and after being away from one another for so long and another day together without any sex, you're starting to feel a little hazy from the lack of him. unable to simply sit back and stare while he reveals his tanned, muscled body to you, you head over to him, and he immediately turns around to take you by the waist, large hands on your soft skin— when you put your hand to the nape of his neck and run your fingers into his curls, he almost purrs. he's just as needy for you.

and then !! just as your lips are about to meet in an open-mouthed kiss, you catch sight of the cursive on his skin. "shoyo?"

"hm?" he blinks, unaware of your discovery, wondering why you'd suddenly drawn your face away from him. "what is it?"

you reach out to press your thumb against the tattoo, almost feeling the red, raised skin that would've been there when it was still fresh.

you're a little stunned, but your heart fills with the remembrance of how adored you are by him, and it makes you almost giddy.

it's beautiful. you realize it's in your own handwriting, and you remember when he asked you to write your name and send a photo. tracing the letters with your index finger, you ask him, "is this... when did you get my name tattooed on you, baby?"

and that's when hinata finally remembers. "oh! oh, oh i — shit, i forgot about that." his eyes widen, mouth splitting into a sheepish grin. he leans back so you can see it a little better, and laughs nervously. "um, yeah, i got it about three weeks back. i was just... missing you so much more than usual this time, so i wanted to do something special. i was going to surprise you with it when i got back, but then..."

he trails off, face flushed so hard with embarrassment that his complexion is nearly brighter than his fiery hair. he's so fucking cute, you could eat him alive. "you forgot." you laugh. "shoyo, you got a tattoo of my name on you, and forgot about it only weeks after?"

"it's not like that." he pouts, grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him. "i thought you'd like it." you finally look away from the tattoo and look back at your husband, sliding your hands up the muscled panes of his chest, still laughing softly. you cup his face, stroking his cheeks gently with your thumbs, and you kiss him. "i do like it, shoyo. i love it. i just think you're so silly, too."

"'m not silly." he whines, letting you kiss him, closing his eyes and relaxing into your touch.

"yes you are," you giggle. "and you're a smart cookie for sneaking this on me. oh, and you're such a romantic. missed me so much you had to let everyone know i own you, mm?"

"yeah, something like that." he huffs, biting at your earlobe, sending a shiver up your spine.

"silly." you breathe, as he runs his hands up and down your bare back and your waist, pressing his fingertips in just how and where you like it. and there's the moment where the air becomes charged between you both.

you really might lose your mind. you can't wait for him to cum into you with your name inked out on his body. and when you lock eyes with him, he knows what you want.

"we'll see who's really silly," hinata grins, teeth glinting almost as bright as his eyes, turning you towards your bathroom. "when i'm done letting you know just how much i missed you."

"try me." you tease, and when he laughs, tightening his hold on you and tugging you in for another kiss, it knocks the breath out of you this time. the intensity of it is already enough of a giveaway for you. shoyo may be silly — but he also knows how to ruin you <3.

[tlou-reid]

!smut, mdni!

thinking about spencer reid who has had a crush on the pretty BAU agent at the desk across from him ever since she started. she has been so swamped with work and paperwork and life recently and spencer notices the small changes in her behaviors because he notices every little thing about her. he sees the tighter grip she holds on her pens, making the ink bleed through the paper just slightly. he notices the way she starts to slam her coffee cup on the desk as opposed to gently sitting it down. he notices the heavy uptick of the amount of cups she’s having.

and it’s worse when they’re given a case. naturally, since they get along so well and since they’re probably the two smartest people in the world, hotch pairs spencer and his crush up throughout their time in phoenix, arizona. spencer sees the way she’s always cracking her knuckles and rubbing at the small of her back. he hear the tone in which she talks to the officers.

so, when they’ve finally caught their unsub just 6 days later, spencer makes sure to pick up her case files before she can even make it from her hotel room. he tucks them neatly under him as he sits down on the jet, carefully hiding them from her. he holds them hostage, knowing if she doesn’t see them, she won’t worry about them. out of sight, out of mind, as they say. she falls asleep quickly in the seat across from spencer. he can’t help but ogle at her beautiful sleeping form, knowing she really needs the rest.

and, once they returned to the musty bullpen that belongs to the BAU, spencer stays with her. he watches as she starts the paperwork he’d sneakily put on her desk, not letting her catch on to the fact that he’d taken it. he tries his best to focus on his own work, but the way she keeps groaning as she rolls her head back has him completely distracted. he’s barely three pages in when hotch emerges from his office, bidding both of them a goodbye and complimenting their work on the case

that just leaves spencer and the pretty agent across from him in the space.

time moves slower now, spencer thinks, which makes it even more agonizing to listen to her try to work out her over-exhausted muscles by herself. he can’t help himself as he breaks the comfortable silence that had been established.

“hey, y/n,” he inquires, knowing she probably doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. his suspicions prove to be true when she doesn’t look up, letting out a less than enthusiastic “hm?”.

“do you know the benefits of getting a massage?” this piques her interest, wondering where spencer was going to take this. sure, the recent stress in her life had her muscles aching at every hour of the day, but she didn’t think anyone had picked up on it. “i know the basics, spence.” she giggles, finally looking over at him.

he can’t dwell on the fact that this is the first time she’s smiled in about two weeks because his brain starts moving too fast for his mouth to keep up, “yeah, most people know they helps with muscle aches but they actually have a lot of benefits. massages help improve circulation and joint mobility. there’s also research that connects them to cosmetic effects, like improved and more even skin tones.”

he doesn’t expect her to still be paying attention to him, but he’s pleasantly surprised at the small smile spreading across her face. “hm, that sounds amazing. if only i wasn’t trapped here doing paperwork at almost three in the morning.” she answers sarcastically, turning back to her work. “i could give you a massage.” spencer stumbles out.

her cheeks start to heat up as she makes eye contact with him, wondering where he would take this. “i mean,” he backtracks, “i’ve read books on how to do shoulder and back massages. my eidetic memory means i could probably do an almost perfect one, if you’re interested. i’ve noticed the way you’ve been struggling with muscle aches.”

her face feels like it’s on fire with the way he’s making her blush. “um, sure, spencer, if you don’t mind.” she stutters and stumbles as she tries to accept his offer. he excitedly pushes himself of his hair, pulling up a closer one behind her.

his large hands start to knead at the knots at the base of her neck. he can feel the tension she’s built up over the past couple of weeks and tries to recall the techniques he’d read about so long ago.

this quickly becomes a challenging feat, as he moves his hands along the expanse of her back. she lets out light moans when he massages a particularly tight part of her muscle. the moans and grunts she’s making are going right to spencer’s cock. he’s so glad he’s behind her, because the tent in his pants continues to grow as he reaches the base of her back, where most of her pain had been.

her light moans have now increased in volume, and spencer is sure he should stop. he was not expecting to have this reaction from her, or react this way to her. his mind is cloudy and beginning to fill with filthy images that match the sounds she’s making now.

and god, he should stop. he knows he should pull his hands away from her, especially as he feels his stomach tighten and his dick throb in his pants. but he can’t. he needs to reach his release so bad, so he presses his fingers harder into her back, listening to the joyful sounds she’s letting out.

he doesn’t pull his hands away until he finally cums in his pants, too embarrassed to keep going. “thank you, spence. i feel a lot better. a lot less tense now.” she thanks him as he turns away from her, pushing in the chair he’d pulled over. he makes a few exclamations, saying it was no problem at all, before dashing off to the bathroom to try and get himself cleaned up.

[thedelusionalbitchgianna]

Emily: ARE YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Morgan: Fucking.

Emily: IDIOT!

Spencer: …What was that?

Morgan: Hotch banned Emily from swearing, so I’m helping her out.

[sqtorux]

HAII SRRY HAVENT TALK IN WHIE THOUGHT U HAD SM WORK DO

imagine geto seein his ex girlfriend (you) with gojo and he like beyond pissed so he sends gojo a threat? and gojo sees the threat and sends a video of you and him in bed and he captions it has "she busy bro" and geto cant help but save the video cause you look so pretty in it

HAHAH

🐱 anon strikes again!!

-🐱 anon

[nsfw; mdni] ──

oh we a bitch for this one with the 'just because it doesn't work out with him, doesn't mean it won't work out with his best friend.'

this could be a full blow angst though because listen. suguru deflected, leaving you behind without so much of an explanation. when you confronted him all he said was "you heard from shoko right?" he owed you so much explaining and gave you none. you had been there with him, doing your best trying to help him though his rut, ensuring you were always there for him but apparently that wasn't enough and he left anyway. as if it was that easy.

so out of pure hurt and a little twinge of pettiness in you, you resort to sleeping with satoru. satoru, the one who pushed aside his feelings for you knowing you and suguru loved each other. satoru, who had always put his best friends before himself.

but he takes what he can get. he also needed the comfort, if it meant having you and finding traces of his own grieve for suguru in you then, no matter how wrong it is, he'll take it.

what he didn't expect though, was a text from his very best friend who put up a barrier between the both of them. that said barrier now broken and satoru does not know whether to feel relieved, guilty or infuriated.

suguru: sleeping with her? really? how cheap.

satoru: not cheaper than a guy who left her without an explanation.

suguru: very funny. stay away from her satoru.

satoru: or what?

satoru: [video] she's loving every part of it. look how pretty she is.

suguru: don't hurt her any more than i did. don't use her or i will do something we both don't want to.

satoru: im not using her. i wanted this. you know damn well i always loved her.

what satoru didn't know however was suguru saving the video. suguru would never admit it but he hates the way his throat goes dry and the way he couldn't help but feel blood rush to his cock at the way his bestfriend ruined his ex girlfriend so lewdly in the very same bed he himself had his ways with you.

hieee ive honestly been a bit more occupied than usual with practicals and i have exams by the end of this month BUT i will never be too busy for you ;P

[imagine-darksiders]

Bowser x Reader drabble.

Set in the same universe as The Lovelorn King.

A few mentions of blood and injury. Self-image issues. Bowser is touch-starved. Reader has been Bowser's prisoner for a while. You show Bowser the barest thread of compassion and he becomes even more attached to you. Whoops.

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

“What in the world happened to you?”

All the self-discipline in the world couldn’t have kept Bowser from nearly leaping right out of his scales at the sound of an unexpected voice breaching the hushed, placid peace of his castle’s library.

Overwrought muscles bunch and flex as the King heaves his sizeable bulk around and away from the doors he’d just skulked through, crimson eyes flashing open wide and darting to each shadowy corner in search of the voice’s owner.

This is the second time tonight that he’s been caught off guard.

He knows who this voice belongs to, of course. In fact, he knows it quite well. It’s been floating dreamily through his mind like a pleasant nepenthe for some time now. He just… hadn’t expected that you’d still be awake at this repugnant hour, let alone in the one room he thought he could sneak through without being spotted by anyone on the way to his royal chambers.

And yet here you are.

His wild-eyed gaze finds you easily, poised in the seat of an enormous armchair by the freshly-lit hearth with an open book resting daintily in your lap.

The moment he spots you, Bowser takes a clumsy step sideways, knocking his tail into a stack of books and sending them toppling to the floor in a flutter of dust and dog-eared pages. Righting himself, he barely remembers to whip a meaty hand up and slap it across the top of his head, tilting the palm so that his left horn is obscured from view.

“P-Princess!?” he blurts out, immediately wincing as his booming voice reverberates off the high, stone ceilings and echoes out through the library, loud enough to wake a Dry Bones.

Perhaps it says much that you only shut your eyes for a second as if pained by the volume before opening them again and blinking up at the King with an air of mild intrigue.

The embers crackling inside the hearth cast their orange warmth out into the nook, illuminating much of the nearby shelves that have been stacked to the rafters with some of Kamek’s spell books, Junior’s comics and an absolute avalanche of Bowser’s cherished romance novels.

Flickering flames chase shadows across your impassive features as you stare up at him, a lone eyebrow cocked like a weapon about to fire. “Bowser,” you greet him coolly in return, throwing a glance up at his conspicuous hand.

His stomach promptly drops, yet even still, even still, the King’s almighty heart soars on a swell of elation at the simple and unassuming fact that you’ve spoken to him....

He just wishes you hadn’t chosen this exact moment to break your vow of silence that you've been valiantly upholding for the better part of a week.

You’re not supposed to be here! Well, you are supposed to be here, in his Fortress – In fact, he’s taken a great many measures to ensure you have to stay here – but he certainly didn’t expect to find you in his library in the dead of night when you should be sound asleep in the chambers he gifted you. You definitely shouldn’t be awake and, worse still, looking at him.

Mind in a swirl, Bowser wonders if you’d already spotted what he’s hiding beneath his palm.

If he’d have just managed to avoid you until morning, he’d have found something inconspicuous to hide it… One of his top hats, perhaps. Or maybe he’d have combed his mane over in such a way as to hide the unsightly laceration that lances from a place beneath his hairline to the base of his horn, where it turns from an angry, red gouge to a dark, jagged crack, marring the inner curve of his once pristine and gleaming headgear.

He’d even polished them arduously earlier today, conscious to keep up his immaculate appearance whilst such a refined and comely lady stays in his Fortress.

Of course, he hadn’t at all expected that a rogue Treevil would be the one to catch him by surprise. A Treevil. That shuffling, twig-tossing lump of wood had the gall to launch an attack on Bowser when he was bending to wrench a fistful of flowers out of the soil, intent on presenting them to you as a gift in the morning.

The ‘twig’ it used as a club wasn’t so much a tiny piece of wood as it was a very unreasonably-sized log. It caught him squarely on the front of his skull, its hard, brittle edge landing a solid ‘thwack’ to his horn before he could even gather his wits to see what had hit him.

Of course, the Treevil now stands as little more than a smoking pile of charcoal in the centre of Dimble Wood, but it had left a blow in its own right, landed one straight down on the King’s pride as well as his body.

He’d hoped he could stay wholly undetected whilst he made his way back to his royal quarters, certain that a genius strategist like him could come up with some plan to conceal the embarrassing injury from all of his subjects, his guards, and yourself and Junior, first and foremost.

Well. So much for that plan.

“What- Uhh,” he flounders, desperate to direct your attention elsewhere, for a change, “What’re you still doin’ up?” It’s a legitimate concern. You should be in your bed where he left you, where it’s safe, and he knows where to find you. You must be exhausted to be up at this hour.

Unbeknownst to him, your mind is far more awake than he gives it credit for.

“I couldn’t sleep.” The half-lie falls so expertly off your tongue, the smitten King doesn’t have a chance of catching it.

You couldn’t sleep because you were busy making yet another escape attempt, using your time wisely by mapping out the fortress in the twilight hours when the koopa guards are at their drowsiest.

All for naught. Tonight, at least.

Ever since Bowser had ‘so graciously allowed’ you more freedom to roam around his domicile, there have been double the number of guards posted around every corner and in every doorway. This library in the West wing seems to be the only place they haven’t bothered to watch so heavily, perhaps because there are no windows or doors here that might lead to a potential exit.

After it became clear you wouldn’t be finding an escape route tonight, you sought a reprieve instead, bundling yourself away amongst the crowded bookshelves and dusty tomes to find some peace from the sleepy but vigilant guards.

Sod’s law then, that Bowser should turn up.

The King, for his part, has no idea what’s going through your mind nor that he’s done anything particularly wrong. Most of his attention has now shifted to the warm, creeping trickle of liquid he can feel break away from his scalp and ooze gently down past his eye, then on towards the curve of his cheek.

The soft thump of a book being closed wrenches him back into the moment.

Owlishly, he blinks down at you from the other side of the nook, private in his hopes that the firelight hasn’t yet reached him well enough to expose his secret.

You can’t see him like this; Marred. Flawed. He dreads to imagine what you’ll think if you spot his broken horn. You’ll probably think him weak. Unfit to take care of you.

So, when you rise gracefully to your slippered feet and lay the book down on the arm of your chair, he very nearly bolts for the other side of the library. But then the silken nightgown you’d conceded to wear after much, much protest on your part is pooling towards the ground and swishing around your ankles, each fold catching in the fire’s glow like the ripples of a curtain in the morning sun, and suddenly Bowser can’t think of escaping so much as he has to concentrate on not staring.

A padded footstep in his direction has him taking one long stride of his own in retreat, maintaining the distance you’d just tried to erase. Perhaps you recognise how… unusual it is for the King to be widening the gap because in the next second, you come to a temporary standstill, blinking up at the Koopa in surprise.

“Bowser,” you say, quiet but stern, gradually stitching your brows together into a hard line and taking another step in his direction, “You’re bleeding.”

He supposes it was too much to hope for...

The horror of being seen wars valiantly with his delight in seeing you, at having even an iota of your attention, even if it’s scornful or sad or… whatever this is.

So often, a melancholy will take you, and you’ll shut yourself away in your chambers, refusing to say a single word to him. Kamek was the one who had to tell him that you’d come around, if given enough time. You’d just been whisked away to an entirely new life without warning, after all. Far from home, far from the shores of your distant kingdom. Of course there’d be an adjustment period…

Slapping a toothy grin onto his snout, Bowser continues inching backwards whilst you glide towards him, picking up speed with every step, your eyes glued to the hand covering his blemish from sight.

“Bleedin’?” he echoes, shrugging one massive shoulder nonchalantly, “What’re you talkin’ about, I’m… I’m, uhhh…”

It isn’t often the King of all Koopas feels his courage falter. But right then, Bowser’s spiked shell hits the solid library doors, stopping him rather effectively in his tracks. Which leaves you with more than enough time to close in and come to a halt right in front of him, your head tilted all the way back to squint up at the underside of his chin.

Gulping down at steadying breath, Bowser finds himself entranced as one of your hands creeps up towards his raised arm. At once, the behemoth freezes, watching, waiting with his heart wedged in his throat to see what you’ll do next.

And in turn, you seem to hesitate as well, fingers poised just a few inches shy of making contact with his scales. There’s a contemplative frown deepening the lines on your face, as though you’re putting some serious thought into what you’re about to do.

By now, Bowser would wholly expect you to retract your arm and turn from him, skulking back out of the doors.

But instead, to his astonishment – and a Hell of a lot of your own – you knit your expression together resolutely and breach the gap between his arm and your fingertips.

The barest of pressures comes to rest upon the jutting bone of the King’s crooked elbow, hardly there at all.

So why does his body light up like a flare beneath your touch?

Synapses snap and pulse, nerve endings in his arm shoot signals up towards his brain and scurry back down to the elbow your fingers have alighted upon.

A touch… made willingly? And without any air of disgust or fear or ill-intent.

All the moisture dries up in Bowser’s mouth, leaving his tongue sitting thick and heavy as lead against the back of his fangs. His eyes are locked with rigid focus on your fingers, half hidden from view beyond the swell of his bicep.

He can’t even swallow, though he does feel the familiar bob of his gorge that calls for him to gulp.

‘What is she doing?’ is the first question that springs to his mind.

If it weren’t for the steady throb of pain in his skull, Bowser might be inclined to believe that he’s dreaming.

You’re initiating contact…

You’re initiating contact.

You’ve… never initiated contact before, no matter how many times Bowser has tried to encourage as much by nudging your hand with his or pushing his snout eagerly into your space, hoping for something tactile, a moment – just a glimpse – of something that he could mistake for returned affection. Just…

…Anything.

But this…?

This is definitely something.

Rendered speechless, Bowser doesn’t tear his eyes from the point of contact between your skin and his, half afraid that if he looks elsewhere, the moment will be gone, turning to nothing more than another sad, empty delusion he thinks of late at night.

Perhaps you’d disappear.

Perhaps you’re not even here at all, and this is simply a hallucination brought about by the knock that Treevil landed on his head.

“Bowser…”

But then, your voice is drifting up into his ears, soft and quiet and there. And the gentlest of pressures exerts itself on his elbow, pushing it down without force.

“Let me see…”

The King’s fingers instantly slacken their grasp on his mane, and despite his size, despite his indomitable strength and power and authority, he allows you to guide his arm down by the elbow, drawing his hand off the top of his head and exposing the dark, sticky trail of scarlet blood running over the plump of his cheek.

At last, his gaze moves to yours, and he watches, enraptured, whilst you give your tongue a chiding click, and your expression sheds whatever remaining steel it might have held were he not currently bleeding…

He waits...

For disgust, for the recoil, for the dip of your chin and squint of your eyes that signifies repulsion from his ugly new defect.... He waits for almost ten whole seconds - he knows because he counts each one in his head, just waiting to see how long it'll take before the inevitable blow.

“Hmm,” you murmur instead, no hint of a smirk haunting the edges of your mouth. Nothing more and nothing less is said.

Just... 'Hmm.'

Before he can respond, before he can even process your hum, you’ve withdrawn from the elbow of the arm that now flops uselessly at his side and stretch both hands up towards his head.

He’s taller than you. So much taller. Towering like a monolith over a tiny pebble.

And yet, with the breath caught inside his massive lungs, Bowser is helpless except to dip his enormous snout down to you as if riding on some old, unconscious instinct that tells him he should be the one deferring.

As it is, he’s barely stringing a coherent thought together, far too astonished and restless to see what you might do.

Is it still coming? Should he still be bracing himself? He could very easily shrug you off and prevent you from seeing any more than you already have but....

Gentle fingertips find him again, though the sensation of them is dulled this time; they’ve gingerly crested the very tips of his curved horns, wrapping around them and giving a small but effective tug.

When you use the same cautious leverage to tilt his head even further down, bringing his nose parallel with your stomach, Bowser’s tail promptly slumps flat to the carpet with a soft, heavy ‘thwump!’

‘Oh…’ flickers across his brain, and then, when nothing more eloquent comes to mind… ‘Stars.’

Mouth hanging slightly ajar, he lets his eyes travel up the length of your neck to settle on your face.

He hardly dares breathe lest even one tiny inhale proves to be a movement that frightens you away from doing… whatever it is you’re doing to him right now.

Your eyes don’t meet the King’s, though you’re aware that he’s staring. You suppose you can give him that.

“Huh,” you utter through pursed lips, following the trail of blood with your thumb up from his cheek towards his fiery hairline, stopping just short of touching the edge of a fresh, seeping laceration.

Bowser's scales grow noticeably hotter beneath your fingertips, so, quirking one side of your mouth into a wan smile, you finally drop your attention to his wide, bewildered eyes.

“Let me guess. I should see the other guy, right?” you tease, shrugging a shoulder.

Bowser merely stares at you for several seconds too many, until at last, he manages a slow, dopey blink and murmurs, “Huh?"

You’ve had too much experience with concealing your emotions to allow your lips any elasticity. Your smile does not soften at the stunned expression on Bowser’s scaly face.

That said, you can’t deny that he’d almost be endearing… if he wasn’t the very reason you’re trapped in this wretched fortress against your will.

But personal feelings aside, you can’t very well let him stumble around the castle all bloodied and bruised. He might have a concussion! Or God forbid he wakes Junior up, and the poor boy has to witness his own father with a crack in his horn and a cut on his scalp.

Fathers are supposed to be invincible.

Junior is still too young to learn that they’re not.

Heaving a great sigh that carries with it more weariness from the late hour than frustration with your ‘host,’ you let go of his horns and step back, smothering a laugh when he tilts forwards, righting himself with a hurriedly placed foot and a startled look on his face.

“Come on then,” you say, swivelling about on a heel and beckoning for him to follow you towards the library doors, “There’s a sink in your bathroom, I presume?”

Dumbstruck at the sudden turnaround, Bowser gives his head a shake, stepping dutifully into step behind you. “Uh… sink?” he parrots, reaching up with a claw-tipped finger to trace the path your thumb had left over his cheek, his touch rough yet reverent.

“To clean up that mess,” you explain, waving a hand over your shoulder in his vague direction, the first sniff of exasperation clouding your tone.

But Bowser hardly notices it. In fact, he hardly notices anything at all, save for the beguiling human leading him across the library towards the West entrance.

All he can think about, all he can do consider, is the way your hands had felt against his toughened scales, like a balm to whatever ire had been lingering after his run-in with the Treevil.

Tiny callouses on your fingertips rubbed lightly, not harshly. Careful, not cruel. You hadn't balked at his sullied appearance nor shuddered when you touched him. You hadn't even shown any pleasure at his misfortune, though somewhere deep down past the layers of wilful ignorance and optimism, a small part of Bowser knows you don't particularly like him.

In the library, the firelight flickers, forgotten.

The warmth it casts into the room pales in comparison to the roaring flame bursting to life inside the King's almighty chest.

[marklease]

Dreamies and princess treatment

was watching random princess treatment tiktoks and got in my feels... i am YEARNING for simp chivalry 😔💔

requests still open! enjoy

[pupkashi]

I’m tipsy and all i can think of satoru being an absolute flirt when you’re completely fucking drunk and you’re looking at him across the room telling your friends you think he’s soooo cute

“hi” you smile, a little out of breath and has it always been that hot in here ?

“hello” he flashes you a dazzling smile, his blue eyes just barely peeking out from under his glasses

“my friend over there thinks you’re reallllly cute” you giggle, pointing at a wall then running to stand there, looking in the opposite direction and waving at him nonchalantly.

you run back to where he is giggling, satoru can only smile at your antics.

“i think your friend is very pretty” youre blushing at his words, already placing a hand in his chest as you giggle.

“well, my friend thinks you’re very attractive” you smile, pulling on his collar and smiling, “you single?” You ask.

gojo sucks his teeth, tsk’ing before he replies, “i actually have a very wonderful, amazing, beautiful, partner.” you pout at his words, trying to think of what to say in your drunken state.

“They’re so lucky,” you reply after a moment, you’re turning around before you hear him laugh loudly, your wrist is being grabbed and the world is moving too fast.

suddenly you’re in his firm arms, your face squished against his chest as he giggles, kissing the top of your head.

“but your partner!” you panic, ready pushing yourself away from the handsome man.

“you wouldn’t mind sweet thing” he mumbles, not waiting another second before pressing his lips against yours.

the room is spinning when you pull away, smiling and blushing before you’re running to the nearest trash can and throwing up. satoru is there in seconds holding your hair and rubbing your back.

it isn’t until the next morning when you wake up with a headache, groaning as you hear your boyfriends voice running loudly in your ear.

“good morning! hope you remember who i am now sweets” satoru giggles as you groan at his voice, pulling the blanket over your head.

“what happened last night” you groaned as he pulled the blanket gently from over your head, “one too many shots of vodka sweetheart” he mumbled as he handed you an protein bar and some ibuprofen.

“you also forgot we were dating” he smiled and your face flushed in embarrassment, “what the hell did i do” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“you hit on me” he laughs and you groan, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him down to lay next to you.

“stop talking, just cuddles” you mumble, closing your eyes before drifting off to sleep again.

satoru can only smile at your drowsy state, kissing your forehead before deciding one closing his eyes and falling asleep with you.

he deserved it after staying up all night with you talking to him about how your lover was so perfect, and throwing up between compliments.

[m3talmunson]

It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.

[cod-dump]

Someone made Simon cry while he was overstimulated at school. Now John Price and Isaiah and Muriel MacTavish have to come into school to talk about their sons’ behavior… mainly Johnny, who decided that was the time to go to war with half the rugby team, which Simon joined after he snapped out of crying once Johnny was punched. Mr. Vargas was called to discuss about Alejandro, who did the most damage during all of that, but the man simply asked if his son won. And when the reply was “Several young men were sent to the hospital“ he hung up.

[moo-blogging]

Nothing in my head but being young, broke college students with Levi in modern Japan.

It has been difficult. I mean you tried to do your hobbies, watch some movies, cook, anything just to get your mind off the stress. But, ugh the stress just can't go away. You just did all of your favourite things with a heavy stone of stress balancing on your head.

And Levi sees it all. He knows you're stressed out. He knows you're doing everything you could think of to destress. But it is obvious that you're not making an progress.

Your head is spinning as you read the same paragraph for the 15th time. You are seeing words but not getting the meaning of it. You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling as you fight back your tears of frustration. You take several deep breaths.

Levi looms over you. Your eyes lock. His eyes are shadowed by his face and hair but you could still see the beautiful blueish silver that gleams despite the shadow. You give him a sad smile. He closes the space and kisses your forehead. "Let's go out." He breathes onto your skin.

You sign, "I can't, Levi, I have to finish 2 more chapters today. I need to pass this test." You tilt your chin up and is greeted by his lips on yours.

"I'll take care of you, you don't even have to finish college." Levi kisses you again. You giggle. You know he means it. And he knows you are too stubborn to give up. You stare at each other for a moment. You study his face. He's looking at you with all the patience and love you have ever received in your life. He lifts his left eyebrow. You know you couldn't turn him down anymore.

"Ok, let's go out." You nod, and slam the book shut. "Can we get ice cream from the convenience shop?"

"Only the small one, it's late now." Levi pulls you up.

"Maybe a cup of instant noodles too?" You grin as you think of the salty, hot soup in your mouth.

Levi helps you into your jacket and places your shoes by the door, "sure, we can try the new flavour that came out last week."

You slip your palm into his, feeling the warmth of his skin on yours. Levi is always loving like this. Even though you are two broke college students where Levi has to work part time at the coffee shop in the college while you do tutoring for younger children, he is never stingy with you. That's his love. He loves by making sure you are well-fed, warm, safe and happy.

Hand in hand, you walk on the deserted street with the love of your life. You blabber about how you would study twice as hard after you had your noodles at the convenience shop (although Levi knows you will fall asleep as soon as you got home), Levi listens to you, nodding and giving comments here and there, and his thumb gently rubbing the back of your palm, silently showing love in subtle ways.