#he does a backflip/roll every time????????

[yuiiiriii]

megumi is head over heels for you. Maybe even obsessed but he’d never admit it.

There was only one problem.

You both were friends because he was too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. He told himself many times that it was okay. If you could still drag him everywhere with you, if he could still come over and do your skincare routine.

Then it was ok.

But he was selfish.

Oh how he wanted to hold you, kiss you, he couldn’t help the jealousy that filled him when another guy treated you terribly.

Megumi was never subtle with his feelings but you’re oblivious. When he’d take you out to get your favorite treats, your to busy stuffing your face that he swiftly swiped your hair out of your face, holding it with an amused smile on his face. The way he ‘complains’ about you not bringing a sweater when you said that you wouldn’t get cold. But he thinks it looks better on you anyways and now you’re happy, that pretty smile on your lips. But it’s so painfully obvious because Megumi is only soft with you.

“Come on Megumi!” Yuuji yells, throwing his arms around his shoulder. Megumi slumps, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” Nobara eyebrows raise, digging her shoulder into his side.

“Why? Only your ethereal best friend can call you that?”

Megumi wants to smile because he’s always happy when you’re mentioned or around. But he bites it back and pouts instead. He sucks his teeth as the two continue to pester him.

He lets out a sigh when he enters your room.

“Megs!” You light up and that warm smile etches back on his face.

“Hey.” He caresses your hair when you hug him.

“Come! Sit!” You pat your bed and he obliges. You begin rambling about the new skincare products you wanted to try with him.

“I got you something.” His words cut you off.

“Huh? Me?” You blink and he laughs.

“Yes you.” He pulls a small box from his pocket.

“You’ve been saying you wanted one…so I got you one.” He opens the box and your eyes twinkle, much like the diamond on the necklace.

“Megumi.” You breathe out, holding it so softly in the palms of your hands.

“Thank you.” You quip, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

It wasn’t the first time and Megumi hopes it isn’t the last.

“Put it on me!” You say giddily, turning around. He gently rests it in your neck, clasping it. You face him, playing with it.

“Does it look pretty?” You smile at him but he’s already looking at you, never flickering to the necklace.

“Very pretty.” He says so softly.

“So are we gonna try those products?” He tilts his head and you clasp your hands.

“Right! Come on!”

Megumi enjoys his time with you like it might be his last. He cherishes every look you give him, every word you say. He holds onto everything. He’s sat on your bed once again, as you rummage through your bag. Your hands engulf his face.

“I was gonna put a lip mask but they don’t even look dry. You have pretty lips ‘gumi.” You say staring without a shame and his heart races.

“I do?”

You hum.

“But I don’t so you need to apply some on me.” He laughs as you close your eyes, scooting closer to him.

He holds your chin between his fingers, letting the cream lather on your lips. You can feel his breath inches away from you, making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes flutter open and he blinks at you. He gulps, focusing back on your lips. However your eyes stay open, engraving his features into your memory.

“You’re very pretty Megumi.” He tries to fight the blush that covers his face.

“Pretty?” He glances at you.

“Fine. Handsome.” You cheekily say and he shakes his head in amusement.

He swipes his thumb over the bottom of your lip, cleaning it up. He holds your chin, his thumb gliding across your skin. Your big eyes blink up at him and he can’t find it in himself to hold back any longer. As soon as his lips meet yours, you deepen it, almost as if you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

News flash, you were.

Megumi loses himself in you, the way your lips feel, your hands coming up to brush at the nape of his neck, your scent. When you pull away you break into a smile.

“My lips were kinda chapped.” He jokes, the product on his lips as well. You laugh and he does too.

“So…” You drag on and he laughs.

“Come over here you idiot.” He says as he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you once again.

Finally his problem was solved.

© yuiiiriii

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[spookieloverslittlemind]

Their favourite part of you (physically)…

includes: Michael Myers, Pinhead, Brahms Heelshire, Art the Clown, Sun and Moon (fnaf), Marta (Outlast 2)

tw: some nsfw (mainly Art - who’s surprised)

Michael

Your face and your waist/stomach; Michael likes being able to read your every micro expression and communicate without your words as well as his own (something about him not needing any words to understand you is satisfying to him - instinct responding to instinct), often rests his head on your stomach when cuddling regardless of whether his mask is on or not, and is usually holding your waist when getting freaky with you. Likes being able to pick you up by your waist and just place you down wherever he feels inclined to, that sense of control.

Pinhead

Impossible to answer. If you ask Pinhead this question and insist he answers, he will pace back and forth before disappearing through a portal to Hell, incapable of dissecting what he believes to be the masterpiece that is your body in favour of choosing one specific part of it over the rest as his favourite. Will literally debate it in another realm for 100 years before returning to you (where approximately 3 minutes have passed in our time) to tell you he has made a choice: your heart. You roll your eyes and tell him that doesn’t count, but he already has the perfect answer prepped because he knew you’d query his response:

“Your heart is what powers the rest of you, my dear. Without your heart, you would be an empty vessel. A beautiful one, but empty. Your body is most beautiful, living, and it is your heart that ensures such a state of being. For that, your heart is my favourite part of tour body.”

Brahms

Will sulk in the walls and refuse to talk to you if you ask him to pick a part of your body and I’m so serious; he literally adores you. When you explain that he can give different answers for different reasons (such as sexually/romantically/what part of you he’s most innocently attracted to) he’s more inclined to think about it. At that point, he’s happy because he can give more than one answer - that’s more fair, Brahms thinks. So, romantically he would say your lips. Innocent attraction, he would say your eyes. Sexually?

“…Every part of you I’ve been inside.”

Art

Easiest question you’ve ever asked him. His answer is one simple gesture: 👌🏻

It’s your hole. Any hole you’ve got. That’s his favourite part. If there’s one thing Art loves more than anything else, it’s playing with something dark, wet and warm that he can stuff fingers or…other things into.

If you asked him for a more in-depth answer that sounded slightly less like you’re his own personal fleshlight, Art would pause, then go: 👉🏻😃👈🏻

Your smile, because he likes seeing you happy. He’s not exactly a romantic, but he is very playful.

Sun and Moon

Surprisingly, both Sun and Moon are in agreement that your face is their favourite part of your body, but it is for very different reasons; Sun likes holding your face, cupping your cheeks, tracing your cheekbones with mechanical thumbs; Moon likes your face because yours is the only face that gives Moon kisses. They are also both capable of reading your expressions incredibly well (they have images of your every microexpression stored as vitally important information in their systems), and they treasure doing things just to see the reaction on your face. Backflips, magic trucks - anything to see your eyes light up.

Marta

Your womb - okay, hear me out on this one, because before you jump to conclusions I’m not suggesting anything relating to hardcore fisting. Marta’s favourite place to touch you is your lower abdomen, her fingers splaying over where your womb rests in a protective gesture. To her, that is the purest part of you, that she protects from the foul seed of men. It is a sacred place in which God plants children, but your path of purity (lesbianism x) renders it an unspoilt treasure. It is rare Marta would kneel before you, but whenever she does, it is usually to place a kiss over the skin of your tummy, where your womb resides.

[steddiehyperfixation]

still into you (steddie ficlet)

Eddie wakes to the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs and fresh-made pancakes. He stretches lazily and heads to the kitchen to find Steve at the stove making breakfast, moving expertly between flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs and checking the bacon. A stupid kiss the cook apron is tied at the waist over his bare torso and sinful pajama shorts, and he looks just as delicious as the food he's cooking. The whole scene makes something warm and fluttery bloom bright in Eddie's chest. 

He sits at the counter and sighs dreamily, resting his chin in his hand as he watches him. “God, I have such a crush on you.” 

Steve looks over his shoulder with an amused expression that crinkles the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. “We're literally married.” 

“I know,” Eddie gushes, so in awe of this fact you'd think it was a new development even though it very much isn't. He marvels at his husband of 34 years, admires every inch of Steve's middle-aged body, every place where his time-worn skin is creased with signs of age and a life well lived and well loved. The beauty of him still knocks the wind out of Eddie, a breathless giggle bubbling up his throat. “But that doesn't mean I don't still have a massive fucking crush on you.” 

Steve huffs out a chuckle before turning his attention back to the stove, a quick duck of his head as if to hide a blush. 

Emboldened, Eddie stands and comes up to wrap his arms around him from behind. He nuzzles into Steve's neck, breathes in his salt and pepper hair and smiles into the curve of his shoulder. “I’m serious. Even after all this time, you still give me butterflies,” Eddie says, resting his hands over Steve's stomach and pressing gently to demonstrate his words, “right here, like I’m a teenager again. My aged heart still does very youthful backflips just at the sight of you, and I feel that rush of falling in love all over again, again and again, like it's the very first time.”

Eddie remembers a conversation he'd had with his uncle once, when he was much much younger and Wayne was about the age Eddie is now.  When you get older, you don't feel that type a’ love the same way anymore, Wayne had told him. It ain't the same heart-pounding, all-encompassing, get drunk off of it sort a’ giddy head-rush you get in your teens and twenties. It loses that kind a’ thrill, gets quieter. 

Eddie had found that thoroughly depressing, despite his uncle’s insistences that this was not a bad thing. Don't mean that love and attraction ain't there or that you can't feel it anymore, Wayne reassured him, it's just different is all. He'd shrugged then, his face like leather, worn and fond and bemused by his nephew’s wild youth. Old hearts get tired, Ed, he'd said. You'll get it when you get to be my age. 

Well, Eddie has gotten to be his age and he still doesn't get it. He does feel that quieter love, the kind that comes from shared routines and easy conversation and even easier silences, made up of trust and familiarity, the kind that settles into his bones like it was always meant to be there. But the thrill is still there too, as strong as ever. Steve still makes his heart race and his head spin. Eddie's stomach still flutters at his smile; his touch still sets off fireworks beneath his skin. Even now, Eddie feels a little dizzy just holding him, heartbeat faster. 

“We may get old,” Eddie continues his declaration, “but the way I feel about you never will.” He holds Steve tighter, hooking his chin over his husband's shoulder after pressing a kiss to it. “I will never get over the thrill of you, and my heart will never get tired of it.” 

“You are a dramatic old sap,” Steve says through a suppressed smile, rolling his eyes as he plates the food and turns off the stove, but then he's turning around in Eddie's arms and pulling him into a spirited kiss.

Eddie's blood feels like it's made of champagne, bubbly and fizzy and utterly intoxicated as Steve fills his senses. They kiss with the same clumsy passion they'd had at 21, too eager clashes of teeth and bruising lips. It's messy, inelegant, perfect, broken within seconds when their smiles become uncontainable. They pull apart, pink-cheeked and laughing. 

Steve grins. His eyes shine with all the same giddiness of infatuation and warmth of love as he holds Eddie's face in his hands and tells him, “I have a massive fucking crush on you too.” 

[nqctar]

𖦹 fireworks ; anton lee

pairing. best friend!anton x f!reader. genre. fluff. childhood friends to lovers. inspired by tsitp. synopsis. in the midst of a perfect summer night’s breeze, through flashes of fireworks, your summers spent wishing for anton to give you a sign finally come true. warnings. kissing. physical touch. wc. 1,344 words.

( 🐚 ) ONE SUMMER CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING.

you were in love. you knew it the moment you took glances at anton through your embarassingly large and round eyeglasses. right down to the first brace faced smile the two of you shared, there was always an unspoken mutual pining. though it had been years since that first encounter, seeing him each summer was like the first time over and over again. almost as if anton was a dream you conjured up through fevered nights. he seemed like someone you'd make up in your head to pass time and daydream about.

he was the physical manifestation of all your daydreams. knowing that made your heart ache. every summer you spent with him, digging up seashells along the salty shorelines of cousins beach and pushing each other into the freezing cold water still wasn't enough. you needed more than summers from him. you needed his cello callused hands to run through your hair. you needed to wake up in the morning and see his big brown eyes marveling at you.

you didn't need the summer anymore, if it meant you'd bask for eternity in anton's presence. he was everything to you.

though you wished every lovesick thought you had of him could come true, you found yourself going home at the end of each summer wanting for more. wishing you'd left with a kiss instead of a secret handshake the two of you made up in his treehouse the first summer you met. you deserved more, you thought. with nine years of wishing, something's gotta give.

"i am in control of my destiny," you say through closed eyes while sitting criss-crossed in front of lit french toast scented candles and a mirror. "my fate is up to me." the meditation track booming through your noise cancelling headphones drowned out the sounds of anton's audible confusion.

deep in your own zen and thought, you feel a gentle hand reach out and touch your shoulder. the feeling makes you jump, letting out a yelp louder than you can hear over the music.

"holy shit anton! where did you come from?!" laughter ripples through him, and he clutches his stomach while trying to regain some composure. as always, your heart does backflips upon seeing his beaming smile right in front of you. crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. he looked so, so pretty. you wanted to lean in and-

not now. maybe not today, even. things were perfect between you two. ruining your friendship with a kiss wasn't a chance you wanted to take. not now, not ever.

brushing your feelings aside, you blow the candle flames out and toss your headphones onto the bed. anton had calmed down already, though giggles still shook his body. you rolled your eyes at him. "it wasn't that funny, shut up." anton wiped a tear from his face, shaking his head. "don't be lame, it was hilarious."

"we're about to light the fireworks, obviously i don't want you to miss it so," he stops to brush a strand of long hair out of your face. an action he'd done many times before. it was almost second nature to him, yet it almost made your knees buckle. "finish your weird demonic chanting and come outside with me."

you grab your hoodie, one that actually belonged to anton during his brief stint on the cousins beach rowing team, he'd given it to you two years ago. it was a size too big for you then, and still too big for you now.

"you actually still use that? stop reminding me of my dark past." anton groans.

again, you roll your eyes. “it's comfortable, deal with it. and what 'dark past?' you were on the team for like two weeks. what's the worst that could've happened?"

anton shivers as the two of you step into the surprisingly chilled july air. "i tipped over in the boat and started screaming. people recorded it. they called me the cousins beach klutz." he cringes at the memory, and in turn you laugh. "okay, maybe that does count as a dark past."

the two of you walk down to your special spot, one you both found accidentally after running along the beach back to anton's summer house thinking you'd miss the fireworks. you remember the flashes of red white and blue that lit up the sky, how your hand brushed up against anton's as you both settled on a huge rock. that was the first time you considered your feelings for anton being more than just a normal crush.

it was also the first time you realized how quickly your feelings for him grew.

the two of you both sit down somewhat comfortably on that same rock, closer together than last year. he sets his the stand of his phone down in front of you both, something he does every year to document your reactions to the fireworks. you never questioned it, though something in the back of your mind gives you hope that he's doing it as an excuse to fill his gallery up with pictures and videos of you.

neither of you talk. there's tension in the air for some reason, and anton can feel it too. he peeks down at your hand, covering it with his own.

"your hands look cold," his voice is quiet. he's coming off shy. something is different.

"i'm just... warming them for you." your heart begins to race faster than it was before. you turn to look at him just as the first fireworks begin to colour the sky.

between the illuminated flashes of colourful lights bursting in the night sky, the earth had a population of two.

just anton, and you.

to your surprise anton was staring right back at you, big brown eyes peering into yours. he brushes a lock of hair away from your face and leans in. "i really want to kiss you." he whispers. the intoxicating scent of his vanilla conditioner calms you. anton is as perfect as he's always been, your very own dream come true.

this moment was the culmination of your winters spent praying to whoever was listening for summer to arrive quicker than last year. every drive back to your house at the end of each summer you held tears back was not in vain. everything you wanted was right in front of you.

"kiss me," you utter. "just kiss me."

with the last few bursts of fireworks blooming in the starry night sky, anton's strawberry chapstick flavoured lips meet yours. he kisses you with the fervor of years spent pining and waiting. his hands run through your hair, your noses bump, he lets a thumb smooth over the side of your face. he's everywhere you want him to be.

his hands drag up and down your sitting frame. the two of you pull away for air, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

"we just kissed." anton remarks, somewhat in shock. his hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together with his.

"i've been waiting so long for you to make a move, y/n." he lets out a nervous laugh. "i was worried you didn't feel the same."

your face reddens. "i didn't want to ruin us. i was scared that i'd do the wrong thing and you'd leave me." you admit. sympathy flashes over anton's face. "god no, i wouldnt—" he picks your hand up and kisses the back of it. "i'm not going anywhere, y/n."

"you're stuck with me forever." he grins.

you place a soft kiss to his lips again, savouring the brief moment.

"i wouldn't have it any other way, anton." he blushes at your response, ears reddening with shyness.

an unspoken 'i love you' lingers in the air, both of you too timid to say it out loud.

maybe next summer, you think.

for now, you curl into his side, choosing to rest your head on his shoulder.

everything in this moment feels perfect.

it's just you and anton existing together. you'd spend the rest of forever this way, if only you could.

[raitonsfw]

Can I request Gojo with a gn/fem!s/o who secretly has a dom side, and tries to very subtly body worship him? 😂 They like, stroke his hand with their thumb, gently squeeze his thigh, rest their hand on his lower back, etc, and gojo picks up on it at some point. This man is just too beautiful to not be body worshipped imo. 😍

𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞

synopsis: the tales of clueless Gojo Satoru, blinded by the stereotypical roles of a relationship until he just... gets it. ft; your dominance.

warnings: 18+ mdni, extremely suggestive, gn!reader, dom!reader, clueless!gojo, allusion to smut, hand holding, sweet treats, protective!reader, gojo and reader are dating, body worship (gojo's).

a/n: tis a teeny tiny drabble but i swear i have loads more gojo content coming! i do hope you like it regardless! i spent half of this just fangirling over the damn man i swear, he makes me feel things frfr. 🧡🧡 wc: 900ish. m.list

now playing: i am my own muse by fall out boy

divider credit: @benkeibear

You make damn sure you take good care of Gojo Satoru, but it tends to go unnoticed by his overly animated personality. But the instances where he looks at you with a smile plastered on his face, you could push it aside. There was something about him that made you want to keel over and worship the ground he walked on. But, he didn’t need to know. 

He didn’t need to know the way your heart does backflips when his back stiffens as you place your slim hand against the small of his back, pushing him further along the path you two strided along. You’d continue talking nonchalantly and he’d peered down at you through the side of his sunglasses, a clean smile cutting through the lustful tension that wafted between you two. And your hand wouldn’t leave his lower back until you two made it safely up the stairs you had climbed upon, rubbing circles into the divet right above the swell of his ass. He thought nothing of it of course, just an intimate gesture between two lovers. 

You knew not to go too far, after all, it was for your pleasure. The indulgence of knowing only you could make him feel like this, the wanting of something more he had no idea of. He would’ve never guessed you to be such a dominant person, your demeanor only showing the basic people pleaser that highlighted their days with a marker to pass the time. You’re so grateful to just be around him, the light enraptured his best features on even the darkest of days and you have to hold back the compliments that showered your mind as you two had been in the presence of other Jujutsu High staff. 

But, in private you had no filter with the compliments that came pouring from your mouth. ‘Oh, Satoru, you look so nice today,’ paired with a slight nuzzle within his hair as he sat on the sofa watching a show. He doesn’t think anything of it, as per usual, because he’s so wrapped up in the show that he barely registered you behind him. Or when he’s off to bed and the fucker goes to sleep in only his boxers and you’re cooing at him ‘all for me, -toru?’ like you just couldn’t help yourself, he’s got you wrapped around his finger. 

He’ll respond with a snort as he slips into the sheets, his figure prominent underneath and you really can’t help yourself now as you climb on top of him. Your hands go straight to his face, holding his cheeks in your hands as you stare into his eyes, the dizzying blue staring back with slyness as his own hands grab you by your waist. You wanted to see him quiver underneath you, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth practically drooling pleas as you devote yourself to him. You wanted his pretty voice hitched up an octave as you slide your hand down his broad chest, tracing every single muscle with the tip of your finger with a dip into the crevices of his pelvic bone. And when you reach the waistband of his boxers, the fantasy’s over as he rolls you over to pin you underneath him. What a pity.

The next day you’d be standing next to a pastry stall with Gojo, licking at the sweet tooth he had. You’d buy him his sweets and he’d happily accept them from you, unaware of the reason why you even bought them for him in the first place. You watched as he would nibble at either macaroons or a small candy piece and his entire body would loosen from the taste of the treat, you loved seeing him relax from the smallest of things. He was quite easy to please. 

On the way back to the school, he’d take your hand and your tummy would fill with butterflies. You sought to protect him from anything that came his way and you stroked his hand with the pad of your thumb whilst nothing but loving thoughts filled the spaces within your mind. You’re not sure if Gojo noticed because you did it so subconsciously, but he did; he also noticed as you gripped his hand tighter amongst the crowd you two pushed your way through. 

And then when you’re both seated in front of Itadori later on in the day, his brain would short circuit as your hand reached underneath the table to rest on his thigh. In the smack dab middle of talking to the pink haired boy too, your fingers dug their way into his inner thigh and you squeezed it tenderly; you honestly didn’t expect his voice to become so high as he gripped the table to collect himself. He coughed out an apology and Itadori just tilted his head, unaware of what had happened. Gojo’s cheeks had flushed and it was so obvious with his complexion, the redness had seeped its way to his neck and all you did was cross your legs with poise, humming in satisfaction. 

You watched as the gears eventually locked into place, as the light bulbs flickered on one by one, as the missing piece of the puzzle that he so desperately wanted to finish found its way into the picture. He figured it out, the subtleness of your control and it was game over.

Or more like game on as he kneeled in front of you with his tongue out that night, begging, practically gagging for you to press up against his mouth. 

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[listofwhyyouloveher]

can you do one with the greasers with a rly sporty reader that gets injured and can play for like a year?? thank you!! 💕

Summary: The Outsiders react to Sporty!Reader getting injured! Warnings: Mentions of injuries Author's Note: None PONYBOY CURTIS Ponyboy runs track, he knows how stressful it to be a person who does sports in the first place but he also knows how stressful it is to get an injury. He was there when it happened, you pulled a muscle really bad while running, nearly collapsing when it happened. You still got up and competed in your sport but you were wiped by the end of it. He was at your side the moment he could, water bottle and ice-pack in hand. You were being assessed by a physical trainer when they said that it would heal quickly, but you needed to spend a long time in PT and out of sports. Of course that bummed you out but Ponyboy started to tell you about he would do the PT with you, make it more fun for you. Overall just being a supportive boyfriend. JOHNNY CADE Johnny is not a sporty person, he doesn't do anything for school in that regard, but he does like playing football with the Curtis brothers and Darry says that he's pretty darn good. So when he accidentally tackles you a little rougher than anticipated, it's only natural that you get a little roughed up, but nobody was expecting this level. You had somehow broken your arm.

While you were busy holding back tears and Darry was calling the ambulance, he was wrapping your arm up in a crude sling. He kept apologizing and you consoled him, telling him you wanted a break from sports anyways. SODAPOP CURTIS The only thing that Sodapop does that's 'sporty' is those damn backflips before the rumbles and, of course, the rumbles themselves. So he's never had to deal with an injury except maybe a black eye. When he watched your ankle roll in a way that no one could presume was good during your match he cringed sooo hard. He was immediately by your side, holding your hand when your coach told you it was time to take a small break from sports. Now he just plays small games of football in his yard with you, making sure to be gentle with you since your injury but still pushing you to keep up. STEVE RANDLE I can see Steve actually playing sports, especially when he was younger. Like maybe peewee baseball or field hockey, nothing too much though. His heart nearly stopped when he saw you tumble because of something wrong with your leg. He sat there a little bit, trying to assess the situation before running over to you like everybody else. He's in utter shock, holding your hand, asking if you're alright, which you nod. Once he gets confirmation that you're ok, he just shuts up. Every once and a while he'll stroke your hair especially when you get the news you can't play till a long time. TWO BIT MATHEWS Two Bit def plays baseball, just for fun on the side but he likes it a lot actually. He's sporty, just not active, so he's never been injured by a sport or anything. However, he does come to all of your games and watches with a little cheap liquor in his flask. He nearly throws up when he sees you get injured, its not pretty. He doesn't know what to do so he just stands there, waiting for the people who do know what they're doing to give him the news/what's going on. When he learns that you'll probably be out for the rest of the season he offers to play baseball with you, so you won't lose your touch while recovering. DARRY CURTIS Darry is a massive sports nerd. He played football, he was a pretty darn good player too, and he watches all the sports channels and reruns he can get his hands on. That's why he really likes coming to your game and watching you practice, it's nostalgic and also he can sometimes give you pointers. He's HORRIFIED, when you get injured. He's rushing over, already knowledgable in some physical therapy, helping you as best as he can, trying to make you comfortable. Whispering to you that he'll train you to be back on the field quicker than when the coach says you can. DALLAS WINSTON Dallas is not fit at all. Despite his skinny nature, which is really just because he can't always eat and he's so addicted to cigarettes it would scare a junkie, he's so bad at any sport. He gets out of breath really easily and can't follow a simple game like baseball. He's rather jealous of you actually, since he always wanted to be a sporty person when he was a child, although he'd never EVER say it to you. He's very nonchalant about your injury, it doesn't affect him so why should it matter? that's his mindset, but if you ask his to run drills with you so you can stay in shape, he acts like he doesn't want to but he ends up doing it anyways. (He secretly loves doing this because of his childhood dream)

[skibidisigmameow]

mm maybe a hazel x cheerleader!gf!reader where reader is a little taller than hazel and usually wears heels and that makes her taller and more intimidating, as if the majority of the school pisses themselves in fear every time she passes by except for hazel who only looks at her with heart eyes. Obviously all this if you feel comfortable!

Hazel Callahan x reader

warnings: cursing, mention of broken bones

a/n: it took sm time to write this bc i had 72817938 ideas at the same time but i love the idea

-ˋˏ ༻❀༺ ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ ༻❀༺ ˎˊ-

You were one of the popular cheerleaders who has always been told that she looks scary. When people in the school hear a characteristic noise of heels they immediately get out of the way, knowing that you are coming. Everyone feared you.. except for her.

— Morning Hazee - you hugged your girlfriend from the back in front of the girls from the fight club that she was a member of.

— O-oh good morning - she blushed at your gesture.

— Are we still up for tonight? - you pecked her cheek.

Hazel nodded slightly, her friends from the fight club looking at you both like they couldn’t believe their eyes.

You ran your hand through her hair and left to the class with a smile on your face. The only thing you could hear was Hazels friends whispering behind your back.

— I don’t know what you see in her - Britt said as she sat down on her table.

— Good, i hope no one else than me does - you winked at her.

— No but really, she’s a weirdo - said Isabel.

— You’re literally crushing on Josie, you don’t have the right to speak up - you giggled at which she just rolled her eyes.

— Anyways, are you going to train the choreography with us later? - Brittany asked.

— Isn’t the gym taken by the fight club after lessons? - you looked at your friends.

— We can just tell them that we need to practice, gyms big I’m sure we won’t be disturbing them a lot - she answered before the class started.

-ˋˏ ༻❀༺ ˎˊ-

As soon as the lessons ended, you, Brittany and Isabel went straight to the gym.

Girls from the fight club had already started and you could see Hazel and PJ throwing punches at eachother.

— Hi girls! - Isabel came closer - Would you mind if we use the corner to train our choreography? - she smiled.

— No! - Josie answered immediately - I mean.. go ahead, please - she corrected herself nervously.

She’s such a simp.

You sent a smile to your girlfriend and went to the corner with your friends.

The time passed quickly and in nice atmosphere. You noticed a lot of looks in your direction, which made you smile a little bit.

You were doing the last step of the choreography - backflip. You’ve always feared it the most of all the acrobatic stuff you’ve learned.

But instead of landing on the ground, you tripped on a ball and fell down with a scream.

— Oh my god ladies i’m so sorry, it was supposed to be them! - Tim ran to you immediately.

Of course, he wanted to eliminate the club members.

— You’re pathetic Tim - Isabel said while helping you to stand up.

— Fuck! - you hissed - I swear if you broke my arm, i will end your sad little life.

— Slay girl! You tell him! - Sylvie hyped you up.

— I said that im sorry, now you’re just being dramatic - he said.

— Yeah? So im gonna tell you something - you said quieter - I’ve got videos from the last party and guess who’s the main character? - you looked at him with a smirk on your face - you. so you better leave the club alone, and be more careful next time - your smirk disappeared with the end of the sentence.

You waved him goodbye as he left without any words.

Before you could say anything you felt Hazels body crashing into yours and her messy kisses on your lips. It took you a while to turn it into a gentle yet passionate kiss.

— Thank you so much for dealing with him for us! - she wanted to hug you but you stopped her.

— Please call a doctor first.. im gonna pass out - you said as you looked at the bone sticking out of your arm.

-ˋˏ ༻❀༺ ˎˊ-

[to-indeed-be-a-godd]

La Vie en rose

Neil sighed his head beginning to hurt from studying the words against the script, he had practically all his lines memorized except for the few spoken in french, specifically when his character was meant to hold an entire conversation in the language.

“je…sais..que-que je-“

he groaned unable to pronounce the words taking a deep breath and repeating them.

“je sais …que je t'aime..” He said the words finally able to pronounce them as the familiar blond walked into their room raising an eyebrow surprised.

“You speak french?” Todd asked shyly setting his things down on the bed as Neil sighed toss the script back on his bed.

“I wish, i have to say things in french for this play i’m doing” the blond made a small o shape with his mouth before taking the book from his desk and playing his walkman as he read, his face focused as a stray piece of hair dangled over his eyes, Neil’s fingers burned to tuck the stray strand of hair behind the others ear but held back still reciting the words over and over.

“je sais que je t'aime”

Eventually it began rolling off his tongue a bit however his accent was anything but believable as he sighed his headache getting worse each time he repeated his he phrase till finally his roommate set down his book and stood up.

“You aren’t saying it correctly.” He said bluntly looking at Neil before holding his hand out for Neil to give him the script which he handed over.

Todd read it carefully, “je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant?” the words rolled off his tongue leaving Neil in a state of shock and completely flustered, as if this boy couldn’t get anymore perfect.

“i’m sorry…you speak french?!” He stumbled over his words looking at Todd a mix of excitement and shock.

“I learned a bit growing up…” He replied sheepishly handing Neil back the script.

“wait wait so how do you say it?” Neil asked because he needed to know how to pronounce the words and not because his roommate speaking french was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“je sais..” he said waiting for Neil to repeat after him the two following along with the other through each word.

“je sais que je t'aime, n'est-ce pas suffisant” Todd said again and Neil repeated in a good enough way that Todd gave him a proud smile.

“What does it mean anyways?” Neil asked curiously noticing the slight blush against the others features, god this boy had Neil’s heart doing backflips every second.

“Oh..I know i love you…isn’t that enough?” He mumbled sitting back down against his bed as Neil thought for a second.

“so i love you is?” he asked knowing how dangerous this game he was playing was but so desperate to hear the words come from the others mouth.

“Je vous aime” Todd said softly his eyes meeting Neil’s and oh god Neil’s heart might have stopped.

“je vos-“ he tried to say it knowing he was butchering the pronunciation.

“Je vous aime” The blond repeated slower as Neil stepped closer as they both fell into a rhythm of Todd repeating the words as Neil stepped closer trying to mimic it until Neil was practically standing between Todd’s legs neither breaking eye contact.

“Je vous aime” Todd’s voice was so small practically a whisper that made Neil’s heart sing, there was little Neil loved more then acting but for Todd, Neil would give the world for Todd, he’d give anything to hear him utter those words once more.

“puis-je t'embrasser?” Neil had no clue what he had said all he knew it sounded like a question and all he could do was silently nod before he felt soft lips press against his.

It was sweet and soft but desperate and affectionate, like both of them had been wishing for this for an eternity.

Neil was kissing the most beautiful boy he had ever met, and who apparently spoke french.

[dyeher]

flowers as our witness| mha

Includes: kastuki bakugo x fem! reader Warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, praise, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, praise, soft sex. Summary: first time sex with katsuki bakugo and you’re not sure if he’s being gentle for you or himself. Notes: inspired by Howl’s moving castle theme ‘merry go round of life’ by the god mc.

Katsuki makes love to you for the first time on a feather soft blanket under an orange splattered canvas of a sky. There are pinks and purples in the background and the blue skies have darkened with the receding light. Half of the sun has already disappeared into the horizon and the evening warmth is being chased by the gentlest of breeze.

It’s a slow, sloppy affair.

Katsuki devours your mouth in a mind melting kiss that turns your legs to jelly. You don’t know how he does it but as he guides you to your back on the blanket he manages to shove the remnants of your picnic off.

He consumes you; his kiss is a branding, a claiming, a fierce reminder that you are his. And as he settles between your thighs and parts his lips for your eager tongue it’s also a reminder that he is yours. With every grunt and moan and breathy sound you draw from him you’re reminded—in the recess of your mind—that you are his equal and this—your relationship—is a precarious balance of wills.

When he eases himself to his elbow so you’re pressed chest to chest, and there is so little space between your bodies that even your breaths mingle when you pull away, he smiles at you. If everything in the world were perfect then Katsuki Bakugou smiling probably wouldn’t be such a monumental event to you but, it is and you’re struck dumb—dumber actually because you’ve already been dumbed down to your baser instincts, reduced to a walking libido by one kiss—by how beautiful he is.

The waning sun casts his blonde hair in a golden halo that frames desire softened features. Even with his rough edges he’s beautiful but with the edge gone and his body at ease—a Katsuki only few have the pleasure of knowing—his beauty is almost painful. Eyes that have darkened to madder scan your face and lips—kiss swollen and soft—part enough to flash you his teeth in another, shorter smile.

If everything in the world were as breathtaking as Katsuki Bakugou’s smile, maybe there would be world peace. Alas, his smile is just as rare as world peace and when he gifts you with the bright, lopsided grin your heart does something scarily close to a backflip.

Your eyes shut as he peppers kisses across your cheekbones, soft and fleeting like the breeze. He ducks to your neck and rains those kisses along your collarbone and then lifts his head enough to press one on the top of your nose.

“You look beautiful in this light,” he mentions, almost offhandedly like it’s expected. “You look beautiful in every light,” he continues, not an ounce of surprise in his tone. Only reverence, only satisfaction, like he knew it was possible and now that it’s confirmed he’s glad he didn’t doubt himself.

His kisses get firmer. The fingers of one hand slipping between the strap of your dress and your shoulder and tugging it from your body. His lips follow the line of your shoulder to where the strap hangs loosely at your elbow before he moves his mouth to the breast he’s just exposed. He hums around the peaked bud, shifting when you prop yourself up on your elbows to admire him. His eyes are closed as he relaxes the weight of his body against you and tugs your other breast free of the dress. Warm fingers massage your nipple lazily, rolling it along the calluses on his thumb and forefinger. Your back arches, shoving your breast deeper into his mouth.

Your head falls back a grateful gasp leaving you as he switches his mouth to award your other breast the same attention. His name is a quiet plea on your lips as he pulls himself onto his knees to free himself of his shirt. You don’t have long to admire the hard planes of his abs or even the defined cut of his broad shoulders before he’s slipping further down on the blankets to bend your knees how he likes. And then he’s kissing the inside of one knee that he keeps in his hold before guiding that leg over his shoulder and turning to the other knee. By the time he’s reached the apex of your thighs you’re shaking in anticipation. 

“Is this alright?” he asks, fingers running along the clothed pussy. “Can I touch you here?”

You nod mutely, and gasp when he kisses at the dampened material before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging on them. You lift your hips immediately, wiggling them as he drags them down your thighs. He leaves them tangled around your ankles, tangled in your shoes. 

The first slide of his tongue through your folds has your eyes widening and your lips parting in surprise at the arousal that explodes in your stomach. Goosebumps erupt along your arms, pebbling your nipples further in the cool afternoon air. He does it again and you’re sure your heart constricts. For a moment your scattered brain cells band together long enough that you wonder if you’re having a stroke. But then he wraps his lips around your clit and hums and all thoughts of medical issues go up in smoke as all your nerve endings fire. 

Katsuki eats your pussy like it’s a delicacy. Humming his approval with every gush of your slick he draws out of you. Lapping at your folds like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Grinding his hips into the blanket under him as though just having you spread like this for his tongue makes him hard enough that he can’t bear it.

When you cum it’s with your fingers tangled in his hair as you drag him as close to you as you can manage. You think, as your body sags into the blanket that he’s done but even as he climbs your body, kissing your thighs and stomach and chest and stopping to suck each nipple into your mouth his fingers skim the inside of your thighs until they’re bumping into your sensitive clit.

He kisses you softly as he drags his fingers along your slit. You try to squirm away.

“Behave,” he growls into your mouth and you still, something about his tone has your pussy clenching embarrassingly. Your heart thuds when he makes a lazy loop of his fingers around your clit. “Good girl,” he coos, voice rough. Suddenly your mind has spiraled into a place of being called a good girl and told to behave and begging Katsuki for your orgasms or to touch you, begging him to make you feel good. 

You moan when he slips two fingers into you, distracting you from this new place he’s unlocked. Coaxing your walls apart with each experimental twist and curve of his them along your walls. Until he brushes against your g spot. You kiss him harder, hands wrapping around his shoulders as you buck into his hand. He chuckles at your frantic actions, one hand wrapped around your waist as his other hand works the spot inside of you.

You mewl when he pulls back to kiss the side of your forehead. “Cum for me, sweetheart,” he instructs near your ear. “Go on,” he urges. “Make a mess.”

And you do, gushing onto his fingers, embarrassing whimpers leave you. In your post orgasm haze you can barely help him as he rids you of your dress and untangles your legs from your panties so he can pull your shoes off. They’re discarded along with his own clothes somewhere and then he’s kissing you again.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Soft kisses litter your brow. You jolt as the head of his cock nudges your clit. You glance down between your bodies, gulping at the heavy cock bobbing between his legs. The head is flushed an angry shade of red as it leaks down the shaft. Thick and long and perfect and the biggest cock that you have ever had anywhere near your poor pussy. You huff in annoyance when your hips lift to press your entrance against him and he pulls out of reach. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, please-” 

You’re interrupted by his lips as he wraps you in his arms until not even oxygen particles can fit between your bodies and kisses you until black dots swim in your vision.

When he squeezes the head of his cock into your pussy your consciousness splinters into a million tiny pieces. They scatter across the meadow with the sounds of your high moans, your whimpered ‘yes��� on repeat as he thrusts. Deep and slow, each stroke drags his cock along a part of your body that has you seeing stars. Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun has set and the moon is just high enough that it illuminates the length of Katsuki’s back as he folds his big body over you. Or perhaps those are the actual stars above you.

“Fuck,” Katsuki rasps. His voice thick with the struggle of keeping his thrusts controlled. “So, fucking tight.” The words are muffled into your neck, breathed against your skin. You can barely respond as the control slips enough for his pace to quicken. The sudden slapping of his thighs against your ass chokes you. Leaves you breathless and giddy and now you’re positive that these stars are definitely in the sky above you because you feel as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“Love you so much,” Katsuki slurs. His words follow a particularly artful roll of his hips that grinds his pelvis into your sensitive clit. They send you catapulting over the edge. Your orgasm surprises you both, forcing Katsuki’s thrusts to a crawl as he fucks you through it. He pulls back enough to readjust you. Guiding your thighs up and back and propping your legs on his shoulders.

“Oh- Kats-” your words cut abruptly when he folds himself back into position and kisses you. A frantic, messy kiss. He sucks your tongue into his mouth as his hips hammer into yours. This position has him reaching deep enough that you can feel the light bumping of the head of his cock against the entrance to your cervix. His thrusts are sloppy now, he chases orgasm with abandon and you watch, enraptured, lost enough to your own pleasure that you pay it no mind, as his eyes close, his lips part on every groan, every curse of your name as your pussy squeezes him.

“I’m gonna-” he groans, dropping his weight onto your legs entirely and squashing you closer to him, “-cum.” 

“Cum for me,” you slur. “Cum- please Kat- yes, yes, thank you-” your words devolve into a mindless babble as he cums in you. His forehead falling to yours, his muscles trembling under your fingers. He gives a few weak thrusts before he stills and then his muscles go lax.

Much later after he licks your pussy clean and marvels at how pretty you look leaking his cum, he helps you redress but stuffs your panties into the picnic basket. He tells you it’s a souvenir. Something to remind him of this night. You rest with your back against his chest as your sunset picnic turns into a stargazing date with a bottle of criminally expensive wine and grapes that he feeds you while he points out as many constellations that he can recognize. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into the night while he helps you back everything away. 

He pauses, squints at your soft smile and the way you nervously fidget with the hem of your dress. “You’re welcome,” he grunts.

“We should do this again,” you continue.

Katsuki chuckles, “The sex or sneaking onto private property?”

You frown. “Both.”

He picks up the basket and reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his body. “Sure, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

He gives you a searing kiss before he drags you after him. The flowers sway with your movements and you try your hardest not to step on any of them, not even the ones that are wilting. They’re beautiful even dying and you owe them your respect because they’ve just seen you ass naked, it’s the least you can do after potentially traumatizing them.

author's note: hello, soft katsuki with a side of fries.

[disappointmentofthefam]

Love? Love. (part one)

(Andy Barber x reader)

summary- recently split from his wife, Andrew Stephen Barber, aka, Mr hotshot ADA daddy dilf, lives with his 14 year old son Jacob. All he has known since the tender age of 17 is Laurie, and their baby boy. Will his life change when a bright eyed and bushy tailed y/n moves in the house right opposite to his? More importantly, will it change for the better or the worse?

*contains adult themes, smut and age gap (reader is a senior in college, Andy is in his early thirties)*

Andy's sleep is rudely cut short by the whirring engine of packers and movers mixed with the commotion of workers walking back and forth, setting up the furniture.

His face grimaces as soon as he opens his eyes,

at seven fucking am on a sunday! fuck off!

Apparently-as he later finds out-a new family had just moved in the house opposite to his. From what he had heard from his best friend(and neighbor), Sam, the family had a son of around Jacob's age which was about perfect since Jacob was a shy kid and wasn't exactly Mr. popular with kids his age. maybe he would find a friend in the new kid

By the next weekend, Jacob and the kid, Tyler, were already friends and today Jacob had invited his friend to play video games together.

"Daaaaddd", Jacob whines, "Please don't embarrass me!"

Andy gasps dramatically ,"Are you ashamed of your old man!", he even goes as far as to clutch his chest, right where his heart is, "i knew this day would come, i just thought it would be fifty years from now when i am bound to a hospital bed and shit my pants every time i try to say a word with more than three syllables"

As Jacob rolls his eyes, laughing, the doorbell rings, "whatever old man, just behave or i won't buy you diapers when you're all old and 'bound to a bed'".

Tyler shyly greets Andy and the boys disappear into their boy cave. Andy decides to settle down for a movie from the comfort of his couch. He can already imagine what Sam would say if he found out about Andy's weekend plans

are you seriously wasting all that good-good on a couch? Let's go out man , find you a pretty girl, you need to get out of this 'grandma' routine

Sam wouldn't get it ,he was married, happily so, and had a baby girl with the woman of his dreams. "Between the two of those pretty girls, i don't stand a chance"- he'd say

It wasn't that easy for Andy to navigate the modern dating world, there were too many 'what ifs' and not enough 'why nots' for him to fall in love again

what if he's a one night?

what if he catches feelings and she doesn't? what if he finds someone perfect only to find out he's incapable of feeling love again?

oh shit, worse yet- what if he was a reboun-

His thoughts are interrupted by the ringing doorbell, jesus can't a man watch the godfather for the millionth time in peace?

"Hi, Mr. Barber"

Andy's breath hitches, "Hi there"

"I would shake your hand but mine are full", she giggles.

Andy's heart does a backflip at her laugh as he shakily reaches out to take the four tupperware boxes from her.

"I'm y/n", she gives him a sweet smile, "I'm Tyler's sister and we just wanted to thank you for inviting him over, god knows we needed the break! Teenagers, amirite", she looks up at him with those big doe eyes.

Snapping out of the trance, Andy invites her in, "Come in............uh",

"Y/n"

Andy's chest is filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling

Names are so intimate, Y/n, while he asks her to come in, Y/n, he asks her to sit, Y/n, as he brews her a cup of coffee.

Andy, as her eyes sparkle when she realizes the movie he has on, Andy, as she tells him she cooked all the treats she brought him tonight

"So", Andy strikes up the conversation as they settle on the couch, "i've heard that you tutor children?"

"Oh, yes, It's just to earn a little before i graduate, besides, my god complex is fulfilled while teaching people", she jokes.

Andy doesn't remember the last time he was so interested in a conversation that wasn't about work or crime, or both, really.

An hour later, they are way past formalities, talking about everything and nothing, as if they were old friends.

Her mouth agape, she looks at him in utter disbelief, "He got away with it?" ,Andy can't believe she's so engrossed in his work stories, Laurie had always told him to keep his work where it belonged-in his office.

"Tyler and i should leave now, it's getting late, mom will be mad if we're late for dinner"

Andy's heart sinks why did she have to leave

"Alright sweetheart", he says lowly, "it was a pleasure to have your company".

Y/n smiles bashfully 'sweetheart'

did he mean it? no way! he must have a thousand women worshipping at his feet, he's the fucking ADA, he's single, he's hot and don't even get me started on that smile-

Focus Y/n!!

Andy notices the hitch in her breath, the sudden tint on her cheeks and the way her shy eyes try to look anywhere but at him

a straight up filthy image crosses his mind-

you, laying naked on his bed, all spread out for him, whining as he sucked between your petals

you, closing your eyes bashfully as the head of his thick cock lines up with your wet, tight hole

he would have no qualms with slapping your face lightly, "look at daddy while he's fucking you open"

"look at me baby, look at who's making you feel so good"

he'd kiss your pouting lips, "my dumb little baby can't think with daddy's cock inside her, ca-

okay Andy, She's a smart and beautiful twenty-one year old girl, she must have boys falling at her feet, the last thing she'd want is you.

As she and Tyler leave, Andy can't help the stupid smile on his face

"dad?, you good there?"

Andy snaps out of the trance, "yeah kid"

"phew! With that shit eating grin, you almost had me convinced that you had shat you pants"

OH THIS LITTLE ASSHO-

author's note: heyyyyyyy girlies, i purposefuly made the first chapter short and vague so i can take the story forward as you'd like me to! Please do leave suggestions!!! nothing is off limits to me

[beanghostprincess]

Transfem buggy anon-

I was listening to music on YouTube, like broke birches do, ya know? And Heather On The Hill played and I was hit with three fold ideas.

Roger had an accent. Like. A very cliché piratey accent, one who few if any others have on One Piece that we know of. And Buggy and Shanks were raised by this man. The likelihood of them not picking up some sort of accent or specific pronunciation of a word or phrase seems impossible to me.

Shanks and Buggy with very very VERY slight accents. They get thicker when they get highly emotional, tired or drunk.

As children, Buggy's was a bit more noticeable bc she ran on a cocktail of Rage, Greed, and Stolen Coffee, so she was always keyed up to about 11.

As adults, Shanks is tipsy more often than not, so his twang is a little more notable but difficult to place due to his general demeanor and timbre.

When the two are together, the first hour or so is fairly normal. Then it's like a switch flips and they feed off of each other until it's a completely different accent, word choice and slang is being thrown without thought. It leaves the rest a bit confused but also so happy that their captains feel safe.

Shanks sing Heather on The Hill for Buggy. It was her favorite song when Roger sang them to sleep after nightmares, it was the song she learned her first dance to, it was the song he learned specifically to ask her to be his - it has meaning to them both and it's a comfort song. ((Yes, it plays at the wedding))

Buggy uses it as a lullaby or a self soothing song ad well. She'll sing to the animals in the evenings as she helps look after them, when she feels a bit down, as a comfort to her friends and crew, etc.

Crocodile and Mihawk are a little embarrassed by how much they love how her accent thickens a bit during and after the song. They'll never admit it.

Just... aaaaaaaaaa them having pieces of Roger with them even decades after his death, adoring them and each other and absolutely being in love because That Person Is Theirs and they're just... so grateful

AAAAAA ♡♡♡

Well, your asks are getting better every day. This is beautiful. I absolutely adore it. Shanks and Buggy both carry that piece of Roger with them and are so comfortable and safe with each other that their accents are most noticeable when they're together,,, Shanks singing for Buggy,,, The thought of these two dancing together for the first time when they were teens makes me blush and giggle and kick my feet because they're the cutest thing on earth. Shanks is head over heels for her and he just loves listening to Buggy talking because whenever they're together, her accent is more obvious, and it brings back memories for both of them. And Buggy doesn't like that Shanks is tipsy most of the time but when they get drunk and have fun together? Listening to this guy's voice makes her heart do backflips. Embarrassingly so. Sometimes, when they've had too much to drink, they're the only ones who can understand each other and it doesn't even matter because they're in their own bubble of happiness anyway. Not to mention Mihawk and Crocodile, they're... They won't say it out loud but sometimes they make Buggy angry just to hear her accent slip. Sometimes they watch her sing only because they like her voice. At first, they don't even know why they do it, but it makes them want to stop making her life a living hell for a while and let her enjoy this.

It's just beautiful to see them having traits their captain had. I imagine Shanks using the same expressions or gestures. Attacks, too, of course. And Buggy is always rolling her eyes like "You wanna be him soooo bad" but she actually is fond of that. While Buggy actually does the same thing and she often eats the same food Roger liked or wears the same jewelry and listens to the same songs. Honestly, I think this happens with Rayleigh too and these two end up getting some of his traits also. And it would be so cute to see them reunite and see Rayleigh realizing how much of them these two have.

ALSO THE SONG IS PERFECT FOR THEM I AM SOBBING-

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

OKAY LAST SILLY THOUGHT OF THE DAY!!

Primus (Nevaeh’s eldest brother, who is not at all like her, pure politician, we don’t trust him with a table knife) is visiting the Venator (idk why)

And Nevaeh has a habit of playing Bezos I on full volume when he enters the room because she says the song matches his “vibe” (Millenial bro doesn’t know what gen z sis is talking about) and after a good three years of this shit HE IS PISSED (imagine being Rick Rolled every time you just,,, exists in a space)

So Nevaeh is hanging out in the hangar with Cody an Rex, going over the supply manifest when Primus walks in with his two guards, so Nevaeh quickly hits a control on her gauntlet and suddenly

“CEO ENTREPRENEUR, BORN IN 1964, JEFFRY, JEFFRY BEZOS—“

And then it cuts off again and obviously Rex and Cody are like “what the hell??” and Vae gives them a quick hand signal to stand down.

Primus spots her from across the hangar and stomps over, saying this is a professional setting and it’S NOT FUNNY NEVAEH!! and she’s all, my guy, this isn’t even my ship?? how would I?? talk to the the tech guys maybe??

and he’s like ya, fair enough. So she introduces the guys and as soon as Nevaeh says “my older brother,” Cody and Rex have an aha-moment because of course, yeah. of course she is that.

Primus makes to leave and the second he turns his back,

“COME ON JEFFRY YOU CAN DO IT, PAVE THE WAY, PUT YOUR BACK INTO IT!”

“damn, that’s so weird? hey Jesse can you just go take a look at the sound system?”

“but sir, I don’t even know how to—“

and then Primus catches Nevaeh mouthing “exactly” and spends the next twenty minutes chasing her through the hangar while she does backflips onto gunships and laughs like a manic (clones are having a GREAT time with her, morale has never been higher)

So later in the day, Nevaeh is in the war room with Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo and Jesse and she’s giving the mission debrief when suddenly

“I’M MISS SUGAR PINK, LIQUOR, LIQUOR LIPS, HIT ME WITH YOUR SWEET LOVE STEAL ME WITH A KISS”

except Primus didn’t spent all day re-wiring a government owned Venator’s sound system with Anakin, and he can’t be fucked to do so, so he’s just standing in the middle of the room with tired eyes and a boom box.

but Nevaeh takes it like a champ and goes “no, no, I can deal them, but I can also take them” AND TURNS THE MUSIC UP LOUDER

“I’M GONNA BE YOUR BUBBLEGUM BITCH—”

“It’s no fun if you go along with it!!”

“I know! Now, are we done here?”

So Primus grumbles but leaves them to it and while the clones are all chuckling the Jedi have absolutely NO CLUE (save for Anakin) wtf just happened.

“Okay, so briefing.”

“No, no, not briefing,” Ahsoka interrupts and points to the door, “what the hell was that?”

“Oh, that was just my brother.”

@saturn-sends-hugs @phantom-of-the-501st @ihaventpiickedausername

[myreia]

Seasons Passing

—part ii: winter snows

Rating: Teen Characters: Y'mhitra Rhul, Aymeric de Borel, Yugiri Mistwalker, Erenville, Avi'li Sostomi (WoL) Pairings: Y'mhitra x Avi'li, Aymeric x Avi'li, Yugiri x Avi'li, Erenville x Avi'li Chapter Words: 1,629 Summary: For every season, a new love. Whether it is watching the soft fall of autumn leaves with Y’mhitra or the cold snows of winter with Aymeric, the spring blossoms with Yugiri or the summer rains with Erenville, these are the relationships Avi’li Sostomi holds in his heart. Chapters: one • two • three • four Read on AO3 Belated birthday gift for @lilas! Avi'li belongs to them. 💕

He will not soon forget this wine.

It lingers on his tongue, the full-bodied flavour rich and tart and deep. Expensive, but not in the fake way of Ul’dah and its Syndicate or the sycophants of House Dzemael. A flavour that is of good taste. A flavour that is fully Aymeric.

Soppy. He sounds soppy. Considering he hasn’t given much thought to what he’s put in his mouth in months, the question now is—is it the wine talking or the afterglow of some astoundingly good sex?

Avi’li exhales a long breath and sprawls back in the pillows, empty wine glass dangling loosely in his hand. It sparkles in the golden glow of the chandelier, reflecting Aymeric’s fuzzy outline in the glass. He doesn’t mind soppy. Nothing wrong with soppy. The world would be a better place if there was more space for soppy. But perhaps there is a time and place for sentimentality. No matter how many backflips his heart does or how the butterflies flutter in his stomach or whether he indulges in any other trope the Ishgardian novelists use to describe such matters, he can’t escape the painful twinge in his chest.

Haurchefant would be delighted by this turn of events. Haurchefant would not want him to wallow in grief. Haurchefant would want him to seize the opportunity to be happy. And he is happy.  

He would be happier if his friend still walked this star’s green earth.

He shoves the thought of Haurchefant—wonderful, supportive Haurchefant, who knew at a glance the feelings stirring in him whenever he looked at Aymeric, the person who helped him sort through the delightful confusion one night while sprawled on his floor in Camp Dragonhead, the one person who should have seen what became of this development—aside and burrows beneath the covers. Aymeric’s bed is large, the sheets soft and smooth, the bedspread thick and heavy. Comfortable. Enveloping. As if this room and this bed and the fire crackling in the hearth shields them both from what waits for them outside.

The cold. The endless dreary snow. The Heavens’ Ward.

Bastards. The grief bubbles up. He slips further beneath the covers, some distant part of his brain latching onto the warmth and heat below, sensing the depression in the mattress formed from Aymeric’s weight. Don’t think about that now. You’ll ruin it. You’ll ruin this. 

“Another?”  

Avi’li raises his head. Aymeric is smiling that dazzling smile from across the room, his half-lidded eyes heady with bliss even as he pours himself another glass of wine. His robe—blue, of course, the man has a uniform even in bed—hangs open to expose his broad chest, the sash lying insultingly loose around his hips. One good tug and…

“Sure,” Avi’li says. He rolls over and proffers the glass, sticking his arm out as far as it will go.

Aymeric’s lips twitch, holding back a laugh. “Come now, don’t be coy. Can you rise from the bed to receive it, or is than an impossibility for even the Warrior of Light at this hour?”

Avi’li grins. “You’re askin’ the wrong question here,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

“Ah. Of course.”

“For one, it’s not late for me.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve always been of the nocturnal variety.”

Aymeric’s lips quirk.

“And for another, the real question isn’t can, Aymeric, the question is should. Should I rise from the bed to get another glass of wine? And the answer is, no, of course not, I think I should stay right… here.” He wriggles beneath the covers, scooting to the edge. “Maybe even… here.” He hangs off the bed, sticking his arm out further.

Aymeric pauses, watching him carefully, his brows drawn together. “Avi’li,” he says, a faint stern note in his voice. “You will fall.”

“Then you’ll just have to come here and catch me.”

The noise he makes—one no words can describe, not even the most verbose and thesaurus-ransacking novelist—sends a pleasurable shiver rolling down his spine. Avi’li laughs, grinning from ear to ear as Aymeric flushes and tries to keep from laughing. Accepting defeat, he strides across the room, bottle in hand, and raises it in a mock salute. Avi’li lies sprawled—neck cradled by the pillows, arm steady despite his precarious position—and watches him refill the glass.

As red liquid rushes into crystal, it is with some disappointment that he lets go of the scene forming in his head like a brief glimpse into the future. Him, slipping from the bed and crashing to the floor. Aymeric spontaneously appearing at his side. “I said you would fall,” Aymeric would admonish. “And I said you would catch me,” Avi’li would reply.

And then they would kiss.

See? What did I say? Soppy. You’re feeling soppy. Avi’li accepts his refilled glass with murmured thanks and readjusts his position on the bed. Is there a place for such fanciful daydreams when the real man is in this room, sitting beside him? Besides, it’s for the best that the little scene didn’t occur as envisioned. A fall would mean a shattered glass, and a shattered glass would mean sharp fragments and wine all over the floor, and that would really put a damper on things.

In a daydream, no one has to clean up the mess.

“This is becoming a habit, Avi’li,” Aymeric says after a moment, sitting languidly on the edge of the mattress, his long legs stretched out. He cups his half-empty glass, staring into the red as he swirls the liquid round and round.

Avi’li’s ears fold over and his brows draw together. “What?” he replies, taking a sip. “Me comin’ over? That’s a habit now?”

“This is the third night.”

“And three makes it a habit? I’d hate to think of the other things I’ve done in threes if that’s the case.”

Aymeric sighs. “Must you tease me so?”

“Aye.” Avi’li’s ears perk back up. He flashes him a grin. “Absolutely. Always. I think it’s good for you.”

“Well, see here, I would not agree—”

Avi’li nudges him with his foot from beneath the covers. “You’re free to disagree, but I’m still right. Silly man.”

Aymeric pauses, shaking his head. Downing the last of his wine, he sets the glass aside on a nearby table. “Silly, perhaps,” he says. “Some would say all this is silly. Or misguided. Or poorly timed. There is a mountain ahead of us and we have not prepared for such a treacherous climb. Some would say to hold fast and true, to clear the mind and heart of all that could prove a distraction. Love, as it were, is a double-edged sword. The same instincts that drive us to protect those we care for—be they a nation or a single person—can just as assuredly lead us to our doom as they can guide us to overcome.”

He pauses, hands held loosely in his lap, and turns to regard Avi’li with a serious look. “But I know, perhaps as you do, that on the battlefield my mind is clear. When I enter the arena with weapon in hand, there is no doubt in my heart, no uncertainty in my mind. Whether Halone bid me stand or fall, I go where I must with the knowledge that I have loved as I have and my most cherished moments are mine alone to bear. None can take them from me. Not even death. So, to those who would doubt us in these uncertain times, I say this: I would rather risk with an open heart and be judged a fool than take no risk at all.”

Avi’li blinks. The way Aymeric is looking at him… he’s seen that look before. He knows that look. He may have the reputation of being a well-spoken man—and he undoubtedly is, perhaps too well-spoken sometimes—but what most overlook is that behind the pretty speech and articulate words there is an unabashed man, brazen and bold, who holds to his convictions with the whole of his essence. There are no what ifs or maybes where Aymeric is concerned: he wears his heart on his sleeve and does not care if he is judged for it.

His chest constricts, heart thumping. He sits in silence, the wine glass forgotten in his hands, turning the words over and over again in his mind even as he is unable to tear his gaze away from his lover. The curve of lips that are so pleasant to kiss. The way his lashes fan across his skin when his eyes are closed. Dark hair that falls attractively against his brow. He would give anything to run his fingers through that very hair right now.

Aymeric wets his lower lip. “Did I misspeak?” he asks. “I must admit silence was not exactly the response I had anticipated—”

Avi’li sits up in bed and sets his glass on the bedside table. “Must you always say the simplest things with so many words?” he says softly, reaching across the bed. Warmth floods his chest, tender and joyful. The flickering flame at the end of a candle, the last bastion against the cold of winter night. “C’mere.”

He kisses him. Aymeric falls into him at the slightest touch and allows him to pull him down onto the bed and beneath the sheets. They curl together, a gentle coda to their earlier activities, Aymeric’s head on Avi’li chest. Avi’li holds him, some distant part of him wondering whether he can hear his thundering heart, and strokes his fingers through the hair he loves so much. It is all he wants for now—to watch his lover fall asleep and stay here with him throughout the night.

All is quiet. All is still.

All is well.

next →

[barbatosgossipsection]

Ok so if i wake up to Asmodeus on other side of a bed, i would get a heart attack and would immediately start telling him how gorgeous and precious he is, until this bitch will melt into a embarrassed puddle. He would probably be pleased and would hug me and then we would cuddle while i tell him every single thing that i love about him and then he will fall for me and we will kiss and marry and passionately make our and he would No lube no protection me until im dead and then then uhh then i would become his pet human he would take me on a walks, he would kiss me everywhere, he would love me and uuuh, i would follow him around and will talk only to him and sacrifice all my life goals just to become his plaything and as his plaything he would praise me nicely and cuddle as he wants and no lube no protection as he wants and he can makeuping me and also he can play dress up with me and i would get into the devildom and live in his room until the end of times i would go in clubs with him and i would submit to every single thing that he would say. He can manipulate me or become Yandere but I don't care i would sacrifice everything that i have just to become his favourite human plaything who he would love and cherish. He would kiss me and love me and buy me some cute stuff and take me on a dates and also he would No lube, no protection, all night all day from the kitchen floor to the dining table from the bed to church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air scream the lord's prayer, HE CAN TOP ME until I'm swollen, until I'm crying, until he's out of juice, until I cant walk, until I'm numb, until my throat hurts, until my cheeks are red, until the neighbours know his name, until my insides becomes outsides, until my hole remember the shape, until my jaws fall off, until my leg is useless, until my eyes are rolled back and it stays there, until my body does a backflip

— Anon