#he's oh so devoted and only wants one thing

[satorupi]

the smallest sniffle out of you had nanami’s fork halting midway to his mouth, eggs hanging off the metal prongs. “what was that?”

you made a soft sound, having just sunk your teeth into your bread, chewing leisurely. you swallowed, head tilting with a quirked brow. “...what was what?” and you sniffled once more, as if handing him more proof of your state (or what he assumed was your state) on a silver platter.

“that.” he set his cutlery down and reached an arm over to where you were sitting next to him, the back of his palm resting against your forehead. “you’re burning up.”

“babe, you know i usually run hot.”

he shook his head, palms cupping your cheek, tilting your face in his hands as though looking for something. “not this warm, no.”

“oh, well...” you shrugged, taking another bite of your sandwich. “i probably just have a little cold then.” oh, how you’d regret those words—the ease with which you’d suggested a cold in your current state.

the word cold seemed to activate something primal in your husband. within minutes, he’d transformed your living room into a sort of medical center to hold you. said something about ‘not taking any chances’ with you and the baby.

digital thermometer, three different flavours of throat lozenges, a bulky humidifier he’d pulled from god knows where. enough vitamin c and zinc to keep you set for weeks.

you were only four months along at this point, but nanami had already transformed into the most devoted, slightly neurotic expectant father. past his usual devotion for you as his wife and into a more hybrid form, to best describe it.

“it’s probably just pregnancy rhinitis. the doctor said it’s common,” you tried to reassure him, but he was already mentally running through protocols.

“we don’t know that. you’re going to rest, and i’m calling in sick.”

“kento, you don’t need to—”

“nope. i’m not leaving you alone while you’re unwell and pregnant.” his tone brooked no argument, already set in his decision. “end of discussion.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

 “your immune system isn’t as strong as it would usually be since you’re pregnant now,” he explained to you seriously for what felt like the third time, fluffing pillows beneath you with military precision. “anything minor can develop into something major. that’s the last thing we want.”

“I don’t think the sniffles are that serious, kento.”

“sniffles can become bronchitis. bronchitis can become pneumonia. pneumonia can—”

“okay! okay, i get the picture.” you held up your hands in surrender, lips lifting into a small smile. “you have yourself a willing patient, mr. nanami.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

within the hour, he’d already called your obstetrician, researched pregnancy-safe remedies for a common cold, and bundled you under your favorite cashmere throw. the man who approached work and life with methodical precision now applied that same intensity to your minor ailment. possible cold—you weren’t entirely sure yet.

“the doctor advised me to keep you hydrated and well-rested. this is the best tea for your throat,” he reported, settling beside you with a steaming mug that emanated the familiar scent of honey-lemon. “also no medications unless absolutely necessary.”

for the next couple of days, you lived like an invalid. a cherished, doted-on invalid, but one nonetheless. instead of going into the office, he worked from home, laptop on the little bed desk you’d gotten ages ago while you snoozed against his chest.

whenever you stirred, he was immediately attentive—checking your temperature with one of those digital thermometers, tsking when it glowed orange on the screen, bringing you more tea, adjusting your position and the airflow of the humidifiers so you could breathe easier. it had turned out to be a cold, though mild.

“you really don’t have to hover,” you protested groggily during one of his temperature checks. “i’m so much better now.”

“you still sound nasally, so no, you’re probably not,” he observed, brow furrowed with concern. “and you’re not eating enough. stay here, i’m gonna make you soup.”

he’d taken to preparing small, frequent meals—bland but nutritious soups, fresh fruit cut into perfect pieces, whole grain toast with honey. everything was measured, planned, optimized for both your recovery and the baby’s needs.

“ken, you’re gonna get sick sticking around like this,” you warned as he climbed back into bed with you as night fell, tugging you into his embrace with familiar ease.

“impossible,” he said confidently, arms wrapping around you. “my immune system is excellent. besides, i need to take care of you and the baby.”

he’d said all this while letting you sleep curled up against his chest, breathing in the same air as your sick, congested self for hours on end.

he carried you to bed each night, despite your protests that you could walk perfectly fine. slept there with you throughout the night. in the morning, before you even woke, he’d already have a light breakfast prepped on a tray for you, an accompanying flower there just to see you smile.

“this is so excessive,” you’d told him on day three, watching him sanitize the en-suite bathroom doorknob for the second time that morning.

“incorrect. nothing is excessive when it comes to you two,” he replied matter-of-factly, moving on to wipe down the light switches.

the domesticity of it all made your heart swell, and to see him so set on making sure you were getting better? you could try to take precautions to keep the illness contained to yourself, but...you wouldn’t deny him the pleasure of playing doctor and taking care of you. you weren’t sure he would let you anyway.

by the fourth day, you felt completely normal again. better than normal, actually—all that rest and pampering had left you feeling more energetic than you’d felt in weeks.

“see? i was right,” nanami said with quiet satisfaction once that congested quality had left your voice, your temperature back to normal. “all you needed was some proper care and attention. no sick wives or babies.”

“my hero,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his midsection from behind. “though i think you might’ve been a tad bit overprotective.”

he’d looked so silently pleased with himself and those caretaking abilities that had nursed you right back to health.

which made it all the more amusing when you stirred the next morning to the sound of him trying to muffle a cough in the connecting bath.

“mm, ken?” you called out sweetly from your position on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“good morning, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice noticeably hoarse. he emerged from the bathroom, hair slightly mussed, looking like he was trying very hard to appear normal. “how are you feeling?”

you eyed him for a moment, already picking up on little tells that betrayed his condition. “better. are you feeling okay?”

“fine.” but even as he said it, he sniffled, then looked annoyed at the betrayal. “perfectly fine. peachy.”

you watched him go through his morning routine, noting how he moved just a fraction slower, how he kept clearing his throat, how he sniffled softly when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“oh, baby,” you cooed gently, immediately moving to his side. “you’re getting sick.”

“i don’t get sick.” his voice was getting more congested by the hour, but his denial remained absolute. you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him sick during the entire duration of your relationship, so why would he be sick now? “i have an excellent immune system.”

“usually yeah.” you pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, mimicking his own gentle gesture from days before. “you’re crazy warm, baby.”

“i’m not—” he tried to protest, but you were already guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed, standing between his thighs. “i need to get ready for work.”

“ken,” you said softly, taking his face in your hands. “you spent a full three days breathing in my germs and letting me plaster my sick self to your chest. your immune system is strong but...” you made a slight expression, thumbing over his cheekbones, “anyone would get sick after lingering in a hazard zone like that.”

he leaned into the coolness of your touch despite himself, eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. “i’m good,” he insisted, though his voice was getting rougher, taking on a near drowsy tone. “i feel okay.”

yup. sick, alright. beginning stages, but sick all the same. “i’m calling in sick for you. lie down.”

“what?” he perked up, eyes creaking open, head shaking. “absolutely not. i have meetings—”

“—meetings that can wait.” you were already reaching for his phone. “your health comes first. isn’t that what you told me?”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

by evening, he was fully congested and running a low fever of 38°c (100.4°F). you guided him to the couch, the big man wrapped in the same cashmere throw he’d had you bundled in, his head angled onto your chest as you spoon fed him soup you’d made.

“this is ludicrous,” he mumbled around the spoon, even as he relaxed into your embrace. “i was so careful. i washed my hands constantly, kept proper distance when possible...”

you hummed, utterly enamored at his behavior despite yourself. hangs around his pregnant wife like a helicopter husband for days  --> is surprised when he gets the same cold she had.

“i should be taking care of you. you’re pregnant.”

“yes, pregnant. not physically inept, baby.”

“but the baby—”

“—is fine. we both are. and you’re going to be fine too, once you stop being so stubborn about being sick.”

he was quiet for a moment, letting you feed him another spoon of soup, throat soothed by the warmth. “...my throat is just a bit sore.”

“there we go.” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “poor baby. i’ll go wash this and get you some tea.”

“i can get it—”

“nanami kento, do not move an inch from that couch. i’m bringing you tea.”

you bustled around the kitchen, preparing his tea exactly how he’d made yours—honey, lemon, a touch of ginger. when you returned, he was huddled in the blanket, looking thoroughly miserable despite his attempts to maintain composure.

“here, sweetheart.” you settled beside him, holding the mug while he sipped. “slowly...don’t burn your tongue.”

and you practically helicopter-wifed him for the rest of the night, masked up just so you could somewhat safely sleep on the pullout in the living room with him. something about having your strong, well-mannered, and usually very collected husband all sniffly and seemingly more cuddly made you a teensy bit giddy. not that you’d tell him that. he was already properly knocked out, soft lips parted with slow breaths.

still very warm since the fever hadn’t broken quite yet—but you were hoping it would by morning. he did have a strong immune system, after all.

you called in sick for him for an additional two days, during which you'd be absolutely insufferable for playing nursemaid.

you’re sure he wouldn’t mind too much.

a/n: thanks for reading lol <3

[ataleofcrowns]

Just finished replaying the X route and I was unsteady the whole time right up until that last choice. Oh my god. “He wants you to like him, though he doesn’t think he deserves it” are you trying to kill me? Because you did.

Jokes aside though I really love the parallels between X and the crown. The trust issues, the way they reflect each other’s trauma, the way they’re so drawn to each other anyways. My thing I noticed, and I wanted to know if this was on purpose, was how they both sort of have traits that stab right at each other’s deeper issues. The crown obviously is the crown, and depending on how you play them can butt up against X’s authority issues or reluctance to open up. But inversely X’s content lying/deflection is similar to how the crown has never been trusted with the full truth by their parents. I can see both how these traits would lead to continued conflict but also how they might resolve those deeper issues if they can work through them together. Also I wondered if there’s any discomfort with X’s fire affinity considering the flashbacks we have of their parents deaths.

This ended up being longer than I expected. Thank you for the new chapter. I can’t wait to read the other routes next.

Loved reading your thoughts!! And yes, absolutely, it was very purposeful that X's secret-keeping digs at the one major senstivity that the Crown has and vice versa, the Crown's position and authority digs at X's own sensitivity as well. Out of all the romances I wanted this one to be the most "contentious" and spicy for the player to deal with, both for variety purposes and also as a theme.

Each romance says something about the Crown's journey and reflects something about them through the love interest. Of course the LIs stand as characters of their own, each with big personalities and a lot of presence, so this is pretty easy to miss especially if you focus only on 1 LI. But the narrative parallels in each of their journeys has been really fun to play with for me. Each LI is basically a vehicle to saying something about the Crown depending on how the Crown approaches their romance.

With X it's of course the aforementioned secrecy that is a large part of the Crown's trauma, with R it's the feelings of insecurity and being unworthy despite being chosen, with A it's how to contend with the sins of their predecessors and how to avoid repeating them, and with D it's how a devotion to duty and the greater good can subsume the individual.

[formulafanfics13]

Hi!! Could you write something where Lando and Charles are just chilling and their gf comes in, dropping her pants, showing off tattoos she got on her hips of the guys’ initials. Like Charles’ initials on one hip, Lando’s on the other.

The guys just spend the night worshipping her, from head to toe, letting her know they love her so much! Maybe they even get tattoos of their own of each other’s initials on themselves.

inked into us - CL16 & LN4 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: In their shared Monaco penthouse, you surprise Charles and Lando by revealing two new tattoos — their initials, inked delicately on your hipbones. Stunned and overwhelmed, they worship you slowly and intimately, wrecking you with soft chaos and devotion before vowing to get matching tattoos themselves.

Warnings: sexual content, polyamorous relationship (MFM), tattoo kink, oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), praise kink, gentle roughness, emotional vulnerability, group sex, possessive themes, soft dom dynamics, marking kink.

It’s late. Not too late, just that sweet hour where Monaco starts to settle into itself, sky still tinted gold, windows cracked open, wind carrying sea salt and soft engine sounds. The penthouse is dim and quiet, glowing with leftover sun, and Charles is barefoot in the kitchen, half-dancing to some mellow French pop song while sipping water straight from the bottle. Lando’s sprawled across the couch in grey sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, headset off for once, controller on the coffee table, legs kicked out wide like he owns the place.

Which, fine. He does. They both do. And they’re fine like this. Soft. Quiet. Letting the silence breathe. Until the bedroom door clicks open and their girl appears like a goddamn vision, messy hair, tiny top, no bra, unbuttoned jeans hanging low on her hips, skin still flushed from the sun, that mischievous sparkle in her eye like she knows exactly what she’s doing to them.

Lando whistles low under his breath, lazy and hungry. “Fuck me, babe. You tryna kill us?”

Charles straightens, blinking, already smiling. “Why do you look like that?”

She grins, slow and wicked. “Got something to show you.” And without another word, she kicks her jeans off.

They drop to the floor in a lazy heap and her hips twist slightly as she steps out of them, turning just enough to show off the fresh ink glowing on her skin. One hipbone, clean and delicate, with a crisp CL tucked into the curve. The other hip? Bold and playful, a LN right above the bone.

She says nothing. Just stands there in lace underwear, wild hair, full fucking confidence, looking at them like come on then. Fall apart. I dare you. And they do.

“Oh my fucking God,” Lando breathes, sitting up so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

Charles is already moving. Silent, slow, stunned. He crosses the room like he’s afraid she might disappear. His fingers hover at her hips, not quite touching, lips parted.

“You tattooed us onto you,” he says, voice low, reverent. “You put us on your body.”

She hums. “Felt right.”

Lando’s already on his knees. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, eyes fixed on her skin like it’s scripture. “You’re fucking insane. I’m obsessed with you.”

His hands slide up her thighs, careful to avoid the tattoos. He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, then her hipbone, then right between the initials. Charles drops to his knees beside him. “You didn’t tell us.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she says, running her fingers through his curls.

“It is,” Charles murmurs, kissing the other hip, soft and slow. “It’s the best surprise I’ve ever gotten.”

They take their time. Every inch of her is worshipped, savoured, mapped like sacred ground. Charles slides his tongue up her stomach while Lando mouths at her thighs, fingers gripping just hard enough to leave impressions. Their hands roam freely, reverent, in love, cupping her ass, tracing the ink, holding her close like she’s the only thing anchoring them to this fucking planet.

“You’re ours,” Lando mutters, burying his face between her legs, kissing her through the lace. “You’re actually ours.”

“Always,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging gently. “You two have me forever.”

Charles kisses her ribs, his voice hoarse. “That means we have to match now.”

She laughs, breathless. “What?”

He pulls back, eyes dark with devotion. “I want your initials. Somewhere small. Somewhere just for us.”

Lando perks up immediately. “Same. We’ll go tomorrow. I’m dead serious.”

“You’re both insane,” she says, grinning.

“We’re in love,” Charles corrects. “Big difference.”

They keep her standing for as long as she can take it, lips trailing every freckle and stretch mark and patch of warmth, tongue slipping beneath the waistband of her underwear, moans vibrating against her skin like prayers. When her legs start to shake, Lando scoops her up with that boyish little grin, carries her to the bed like she’s made of silk and glass.

They take turns. There’s no rush. No competition. Just soft chaos, Charles’s mouth on her chest, Lando’s fingers inside her, one holding her down while the other pulls her apart. They whisper how proud they are of her. How good she is. How beautiful. How much they love her. How they’ve never belonged to anyone like this before.

Lando comes in her mouth while Charles fingers her through another orgasm. Then they swap. Charles fucks her slow and deep while Lando strokes her hair and tells her how perfect she looks all wrecked like that. She falls asleep between them. Arms tangled, thighs sticky, tattoos red and glowing.

And the next day? They go to the same artist. Charles gets her initials behind his ear, hidden in the curls of his hair. Lando gets hers on his ring finger. No explanation. No hesitation. They get each other’s too. Just to be ridiculous. Just to make sure they’re all tied together for real.

CL. LN. Her.

Forever.

[soulicious]

🧁🎀🩰.

🧁 describe your dream birthday party (down to the outfit, cake, and decorations).

hmm my dream birthday party would definitely be a private one. But, I think I'd throw a costume party or maybe a ball. I think I'd choose a satin dress because I love satin but I might also get a black velvet dress cause I love black velvet. I love chocolate cake, and I think i wouldn't use many decorations, I don't like them. I'd Probably just get a happy birthday banner at the most. (I don't like birthdays I'm sorry)

🎀 build your ideal lover from the soul outward (personality, looks, style, love language...) then tell us your dream date.

Ahhh this is a hard one. The list is gonna be long so buckle up, guys. My ideal lover is someone who's intelligent, confident, devoted and kind. He should be able to match my wit, i don't mind if he's smarter than me but I don't think I can be with someone who's not as intelligent as I am. He should be confident in himself, I don't mind if it's too much, as long as he's not insecure. He should be kind, not just to people he finds attractive but to everyone who deserves his kindness. He shouldn't be vulgar, although i don't mind if he uses filthy language (with me and only me) in certain situations. He should be completely devoted to me, (and I mean, Aaron warner level kind of devotion) because I'm someone who's too loyal for my own good. I'd commit arson for the ones I love so I expect the same from him. I don't mind if he's too clingy but he shouldn't be nonchalant, not with me. He shouldn't hold me back from doing my own thing. I have hyper independent tendencies. I can't be with someone who don't let me have my alone time and do my own stuff. He should be good with people, must be very charming and good with his words. He shouldn't let anyone talk crap about me, not even myself. He should be my biggest supporter. He should be protective of me and i wouldn't mind if he were a bit possessive. Not in a "don't wear that dress, I don't wanna share you, you belong to me" way. But in a "wear whatever you want, I can fight. I'm yours, anyway" way. (Ugh I'm blushing like a middle schooler writing this. God!!!). He should be nice to waiters and must be generous. Hmm as for his looks, I don't have any preference. I'm more of a sapiosexual, so intelligence attracts me more than appearance does. But I'd like it if he had like.. intense and passionate eyes that doesn't wander away from me. Oh- he should be taller than me. That's a very important detail. I'm 5'6 which is above average height where I'm from and when wearing my heels I'm like 5'8-ish. So he should be taller than average too. Hmm as for his style, he shouldn't wear neons, too much patterns or crocs. I hate them. And love language.. hmm I think the major one should be feeling known and the minor ones should be physical touch or words of affirmation. But yeah,that's my dream lover.

[I know a lot of people will think that I'm "asking for too much" or that my "standards are too high" but this is all of the stuff that I'd do for someone I love, even people i platonically love. I think it's only fair that I ask for what I'd offer in a relationship.]

🩰 if you could have any career (money and method are hypothetically not an issue), what would it be and why?

Oooh- that's a very interesting question! Hypothetically, it'd be either a archaeologist/ an egyptologist or do spy work/assassin. I've always been interested in egyptology archaeology as a child, so much so that I tried to learn ancient Egyptian. Also- archaeologists and egyptologist have access to restricted places that general public cannot visit. I've always thought that was cool. And i don't think working as an assassin or a spy needs to be elaborated?? Like- what could be cooler than that??

[possamble]

realizing im kind of a weirdo about laios and marcille

[uramakimochi]

Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

[cheeseatlantic]

i want his meat (double meaning)

THE BUTCHER’S WIFE

!butchersimon x fem reader

Simon Riley’s butcher shop is a staple in town. Small, cozy, always smelling like freshly cut meats and slow-cooked broth. Everyone knows him, trusts him—the man behind the counter with rough, skilled hands and sharp eyes that miss nothing. He’s quiet, polite in his own gruff way, but he doesn’t waste words on unnecessary chatter.

Yet, despite the intimidating build and the sharp cleaver always within reach, every local knows one thing—Simon Riley is a devoted family man.

The proof? The way he locks up early to make it home for dinner. The way he handpicks the best cuts of meat to bring home to you—his wife, the love of his life, the one woman who has him utterly tamed in ways no one would believe if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.

Your home is just a little outside of town, nestled in the countryside, where the air is fresh and the kitchen always smells like something rich and hearty. Two little ones keep you busy—your children, his pride and joy. They’ve got his stubbornness, your wit, and an endless supply of energy.

But tonight? Tonight is different. The kids are asleep, the house is quiet, and Simon’s just gotten home—his broad frame filling the doorway as he steps inside, carrying a small paper-wrapped bundle.

“Brought you somethin’, love.” His voice is deep, warm, edged with something unreadable as he places the package on the counter. You unwrap it, revealing the finest cut of steak, perfectly marbled—something expensive, something he wouldn’t just sell to anyone.

You raise an eyebrow. “Special occasion?”

Simon hums, stepping behind you, hands settling low on your waist as he presses against your back. He smells like cedarwood, steel, and the faintest hint of smoked meat.

“Felt like treatin’ my girl,” he murmurs, lips grazing your neck.

Heat prickles down your spine.

Because that’s the thing about Simon—he’s soft for you, gentle with the kids, but when the night stretches long and the world outside fades away, he is anything but tame.

“Mm. So you’re buttering me up first?” you tease, arching into him.

His chuckle is low, dark. “That depends. Is it working?”

You don’t answer, just tilt your head to give him better access as his hands start to wander, rough palms pressing over the curve of your hips, gripping, claiming.

“You worked hard today,” you murmur, a slow smirk tugging at your lips.

Simon hums against your skin. “Oh, I did. Choppin’ all that meat, swinging that cleaver all day.” His voice drops, thick and heavy. “Reckon I still got some energy left, though.”

Your breath catches.

The thing is—Simon may have left behind the battlefield, but he never lost that raw, dangerous edge. It lingers in the way he handles a knife, the way he moves, the way he takes. And right now, it’s flashing in his gaze, hunger written in every line of his body as his hands tighten around you.

“You’re insatiable,” you whisper, half-laughing, half-breathless.

Simon grins, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Only for you, love.”

And as he lifts you onto the counter, pushing between your thighs with the ease of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, dinner is long forgotten.

(But don’t worry—he’ll still cook that steak later. After all, his girl needs to eat.)

slurping up that sausage like its my last meal ty

[petalbcrnes]

oh, i’ve been gone for a few days, but !!! i have a little something for you guys <3 changing up my post’s styles a bit. i’d like to focus on headcanons and small imagines from now on. (dw my series won’t disappear). i just want to try something new! 🌷

a/n: not proofread, this work is sfw. have fun reading. MASTERLIST HERE !!

✹ ꕀ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 : ‘ 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽? ’ ( ✦ )

( ✦ ) In a few words, to describe a relationship with Jason Todd would be a fever dream, a reverie you didn't even know you were in until those sea-green eyes hit you like waves; you find yourself wanting to lose yourself in this dream.

Despite being a man with a reputation of a rather not-so-savory kind, he unexpectedly shows the most softness and tenderness for his partner out of all the Bat-boys.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 ⠀. ᰋ .. 🪻

JASON TODD loves quietly. He's subtle with his affections. The fact he loves you will be shown in the small details that collect over time. You don't even notice it at first. He's not used to expressing his feelings in a way that's obvious to the fleeting eye. Only someone who pays attention would see how utterly devoted your boyfriend is to you.

It's the way Jason always has a hand on the surface of your back or waist, guiding you through crowds or holding you while cooking in the kitchen. The touch serves as a safety net for you and a chain that connects the two of you. He needs you close to him. Your presence in the early morning or even in the busy streets of Gotham City has him feeling even calmer.

Jason devotes himself to learning everything about you. He silently watches you when you talk about the things you enjoy. It's a soothing sound to his ears. He makes sure to keep any important detail you mentioned tucked away in his mind.

The specific drink you like at that coffee place you've grown attached to, that book you've been reading (he's picked it up too, he wants to talk about it with you), what temperature you enjoy your tea, the route you take during your day—do you want that pretty ceramic cup he saw at the shop? He thinks you would. He's getting it for you, because when you're happy—he is too.

🗨️: Sorry, I talk too much.

J: But I want to hear you.

There are moments in your relationship when the confidence Jason tried to show you slowly crumbles around you. He doesn't realize that it's the walls he has built around himself finally disappearing when he's with you.

It's shown in the way he sleeps soundly next to you. The way your touch doesn't send spikes through his skin. The way he's more open talking with you. It comes to him naturally—talking with you all night, words slipping past his lips that he wouldn't trust anyone else with.

Acts of service is an important part of a relationship with Jason. He's up before you are. The hot cup of your favorite drink sits steaming on the counter. He's already fussing around the kitchen, trying to cook up a meal for you. (Keyword, trying. I don't have much faith in his cooking, and neither does he.) He's the first to go out for groceries. His hands are always full of the bags you carry. No matter how many times you reassure him you're okay on your own, he shakes his head. He's doing this because he wants to.

🗨️: It's okay. I can carry them.

J: No, no. It's okay. While we're at it, give me that bag you're holding in your left hand, looks heavy.

🗨️: You literally have five bags already!

He has a habit of resting his head on your shoulder or placing his chin on top of your head when he’s tired. He’ll murmur something like “Five more minutes, babe” if you try to move.

I already mentioned in a previous post that you two are not only lovers. Friends to lovers is the romance I see Jason being in. You're his best friend, and he's yours. You're the first one he looks for in a room because you're the only one who really knows him—in and out. He's Jason Todd to the rest of the world, but to you, he's your Jay. The Jay you met and slowly became friends with. The Jay you spent hours huddled away in a library with. You two discuss books non-stop in hushed whispers. Those whispers slowly turned into something even bigger, something that settled deep in your bones.

Jason adores physical touch, but only from you. He’s the kind of guy who acts grumpy about PDA but will still pull you into his lap when you least expect it. Forehead kisses, temple kisses, pulling you closer by the waist when someone walks too close to you—those are his specialties.

Dates include, you guessed it, library dates, that cozy restaurant you two found, the park during the evening, the homey feel of your shared apartment at midnight while a cheesy romance movie plays in the background, late-night walks around the busy streets while the kaleidoscopic colors of the city dance across your figures. It's all very saccharine sweet and simply soft.

The pet names I see Jason using are: a classic babe, pipsqueak (a more teasing one), a shortened version of your name, and pretty.

Jason isn’t a fan of social media, but he keeps a private account just to follow you. He never posts, never likes anything, but he’s always watching. If you post a picture of yourself, he’ll send a text: “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Might be surprising to some, but he's a big gossiper. He's talking about everyone and everything with you. It's a monthly talk you guys have. Basically, gossip buddies.

Arguments are rare with Jason. I've already mentioned that love with him is a process of boundaries and promises to take things slow. I think the two of you don't cross any lines.

Even if something happens, he cannot bear to get mad at you. You're his person, his other half. It ends with apologies, and he needs to be in your presence for the next few days (like a cat with separation anxiety, following you from room to room).

God forbid someone threatens you in any way. Which in itself is rare, because of the automatic scary boyfriend privileges you have. Though, if someone is foolish enough to try, all you need is to give Jason permission, and the person is getting into big trouble.

He likes to write little notes for you. Slipping them into your book, sticking them on the bathroom mirror, or tucking them into your pocket. They range from “Don’t forget to eat” to “You looked so pretty this morning, I almost forgot how to breathe.”

He walks you to class. Shyly, he takes your hand in his and has a small celebration in his mind that he managed to do it. Off you two go, strolling through the campus as if it's your own world.

I think Jason would playfully tease you too. He's your best friend and now boyfriend. It's a requirement now. That's where the pipsqueak pet name comes from. He enjoys your reactions, the little huffs of exasperation or the way you try (and fail) to glare at him.

If he ever catches you crying, Jason immediately goes into comfort mode. He might not always have the right words, but his arms are strong, his voice is gentle, and he’ll hold you as long as you need.

🗨️: You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay.

J: I know you will. But I want to be here.

Jason is so in love with you, it’s ridiculous.

But at the end of the day, despite all the teasing, all the quiet acts of love, all the soft whispers and quiet mornings, Jason Todd is just a man who loves you with everything he has. And he always will.

♥︎ . .. ♥︎ .. 🌷 ♥︎

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified.

[ceramini]

✦ DAMN! YOU’RE SUCH A LOSER HEESEUNG

pairing 𐐪𐑂 heeseung (hes a loser) × hot!reader

word count 𐐪𐑂 approximately 0.9k words, 28 hcs

genre 𐐪𐑂 smut, fluff, crack, mdni 18+

synopsis ───── lee heeseung is the smartest dumbass you’ve ever met. hes annoyingly hot, painfully sincere, and completely deranged in his devotion to you. he sucks at sex, hyperfixates on nonsense, and has no idea how he pulled you, but he’ll do absolutely anything to keep you. hes pathetic, but he’s yours. <3

nini’s note 🗒️ this one’s been a long time coming. you asked. you screamed. you demanded I deliver loser!heeseung in his full dumbass glory, and I have. this is the boy who begs you to watch his favorite anime with him but doesn’t know how to ask properly. who thinks buying you snacks is a love language. who shuts down during sex because he’s so overwhelmed by how pretty you are. I adore him. I hate him. enjoy responsibly, likes & reblogs are very much appreciated <33 + lmk if u want the fics 💕

𓋜 if want to read something else, check out the ꕀ LIBRARY

DUMB IN BED BUT HES TRYING

loser!heeseung who has no clue what he’s doing in bed but insists he “knows what women like” because he read half a Reddit thread in 2017. He gets cocky real fast, but the moment you start undressing, he forgets what breathing is.

loser!heeseung who talks a big game, but the second you start touching him seriously, he stutters so hard he ends up apologizing mid-makeout. “Wait, s-sorry, I just—can we go slower? Or faster? I don’t know.”

loser!heeseung who gets hard embarrassingly fast. Like, one kiss to the neck and he’s already pitching a tent in those gross sweatpants he wears every day. He covers himself with a pillow, but it’s so obvious.

loser!heeseung who literally googled “how to eat a girl out” and made a whole annotated doc with bookmarks. He reads it in bed the night before seeing you and is so stressed about “messing it up” that he forgets to actually use his tongue at first.

loser!heeseung who goes down on you with his whole soul once he gets over the nerves. Like messy, shaky hands on your thighs, moaning while he figures out what makes you gasp. He takes it personally if you don’t come.

loser!heeseung who says the most pathetic shit during sex. Things like “you feel so good I think I’m gonna pass out” and “wait—wait are you close? Oh my god, are you gonna—oh my god.”

loser!heeseung who starts with missionary because he thinks it’s “safe,” but accidentally gets way too into it. His hair falls into his eyes, he’s biting his lip, moaning helplessly, and now you’re the one losing it.

loser!heeseung who cums quick but apologizes for hours. Texts you at 2AM like “i swear i can last longer next time 😞 please don’t think i’m lame.” You end up having to reassure him while he spirals.

loser!heeseung who needs to be coached into talking dirty. The best he manages at first is “you’re so hot i could die,” and then he panics and asks if that sounded weird.

loser!heeseung who gets hard again after you cuddle for five minutes. Pretends it’s not happening. Fails.

SOFT WHERE IT COUNTS

loser!heeseung who hyperfixates on a new anime or game and talks about it for days. You nod along lovingly while he info-dumps about lore you don’t understand, because he gets so animated when he’s excited.

loser!heeseung who has a rotating cast of dumb hyperfixation objects: currently obsessed with modding your shared Minecraft world, was deep into urban planning videos last month, and once spent 3 weeks only talking about frogs.

loser!heeseung who makes you playlists with weirdly specific titles like “songs that sound like you in the rain” or “if we were NPCs in a JRPG and i was in love with you but couldn’t say it.”

loser!heeseung who leans his head on your shoulder when he’s tired at his desk. Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until you turn and kiss his cheek, and then he melts completely.

loser!heeseung who makes you ramen at 2AM and gets all shy when you compliment it. “It’s just instant, I didn’t really do anything,” but secretly smiles the whole time you eat it.

loser!heeseung who texts you “are you home safe?” the second you leave. Follows up with “ok gn 😴” and then continues sending you TikToks until 4AM.

loser!heeseung who gets weirdly quiet when he likes you too much. His confidence completely evaporates. He just goes all soft-eyed and fidgety like “um… do you want to stay over? like—only if you want to.”

loser!heeseung who makes you sit on his lap while he games but doesn’t focus on the screen at all. He keeps dying in-game because he’s too busy sneaking kisses to your jaw and whispering, “i’m gonna lose because of you.”

loser!heeseung who writes you little notes and tucks them into your things. They say stupid shit like “u looked hot today 🔥” or “don’t forget to drink water or I’ll cry.”

loser!heeseung who kisses you so sweetly it makes you forget how dumb he is. His lips are soft, he holds your face gently, and the second you pull away he mumbles, “I like you so much it’s actually insane.”

HIS BRAIN IS EMPTY, BUT HIS HEART IS FULL

loser!heeseung who is insanely good at rhythm games but can’t drive. Has 100% accuracy on Osu! but has never parallel parked in his life.

loser!heeseung who drinks monster energy at 9PM and then complains when he can’t sleep. Lies awake in bed like “why am I like this.”

loser!heeseung who doesn’t know how to fold laundry. Just leaves clothes in a chair and lives out of the pile. But your stuff? Folded like it’s sacred.

loser!heeseung who wears the same hoodie for 8 days in a row until you threaten to take it home and wash it yourself. (You do. It comes back smelling like you. He doesn’t take it off again.)

loser!heeseung who gets so intense about his hobbies that he forgets to eat. You have to literally put a snack in his hand like “chew this or I’ll break your computer.”

loser!heeseung who remembers everything you say even if he seems like he’s not listening. Mentions it randomly weeks later like, “didn’t you say your favorite flowers were tulips?” and you’re like HOW DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THAT.

loser!heeseung who blushes when you compliment him. Full-on red ears, shy little laugh, won’t look at you for five minutes.

loser!heeseung who is so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He just stares at you sometimes like you’re something unreal. “I don’t get how you like me,” he whispers. “But I’m so glad you do.”

TAGLIST ───── @gxwesn @gyarumindd @somuchdard @ssanhwatto @jinxedly @seokjinthescientist <3 you can join my taglist through this doc! —> here

[moonstruckme]

hi angel!! can you please write a fic with sirius x shy reader where she meant to be going out with sirius and his friends where some girls who have previously liked him and shes feeling nervous/insecure about what they'll think of her so she drinks a bit for liquid courage and later on sirius takes care of her listening to her drunk babbling and reassuring her? thanks lovely!!

Thank you <3

cw: intoxication, feelings of inadequacy, some mature implications but nothing happens

Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The thing is, Mary is really lovely. She’s sweet, bubbly, gregarious. One of those people who makes you feel in on the joke. And she’s beautiful, so you can understand why Sirius dated her. They must have been a perfect match. 

You, you need three gin fizzes before you can even begin to match Mary’s natural congeniality. Not to mention the rest of Sirius’ friends. They’re a fun, chattery bunch, each clever and funny and entertaining in their own individual but reliable ways. Your packed corner booth covers so many topics so quickly it makes your head spin. 

You find some solace in the women’s toilets. White fluorescent lights that bring attention to the makeup smudged just underneath your eyes, it’s here that you realize you may have overdone it. You look at yourself in the mirror as you release a slow breath, listening to the laughter outside the door from within your little bubble of quiet. 

When you force yourself to go back out, Sirius is waiting. 

“Hi.” Your liquid courage seems to abandon you without the rowdy pub atmosphere to bolster it. This is just you and Sirius in a dim hallway, your boyfriend’s smile igniting a familiar warmth in his eyes and nervous flutter in your gut. “I could’ve found my own way back,” you say. 

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.” Sirius steps into your space, hand on your waist as he presses his lips to yours gently. “I just wanted a chance to do that without getting loads of shit for it.” 

You smile. “There would have been booing,” you agree. 

“Oh, definitely. James would’ve pretended to be sick.” 

You rest your forehead on his shoulder. Selfishly, you want to keep the both of you here a little while longer. Sirius seems to understand this, his hand drawing back and forth over the sliver of skin between your trousers and the back of your shirt lazily. 

“Mary had to leave,” he says, “but she threatened me with all sorts of vile things if I didn’t give you her number. She wants you to have coffee sometime.” 

“That’s nice,” you hum, really extraordinarily pleased. “Why’d she have to go?” 

“She forgot she was supposed to meet a friend at ten.” 

You smile ruefully. That sounds exactly like a girl like Mary. Her only flaw is that she has too many people who wish for her company and not enough time to devote to them all. 

Sirius smells nice. Like clove and nighttime, and a little bit like the greasy chips James ordered for the table. You imagine you smell like gin and fizz. You mumble your question into the neckline of his shirt, so that the warmth of your breath warms the cotton and Sirius makes a confused tsking sound. 

“I can’t hear you when you talk like that, baby,” he says, encouraging you away from him with a hand on your cheek. You look up at him through heavy lashes. 

“Have I embarrassed you?” you murmur. 

Sirius looks like he’s going to laugh. You won’t be able to take it if he does, you think. You’ll have to lose Mary’s number as well as his and move across town. 

“What?” His voice is amused, brows raised. “No, you haven’t. Not at all. Why would you think that?” 

You shrug, embarrassed. “There’s makeup under my eyes.” 

“Is there?” Sirius’ smile grows. He adjusts his hold on your face, licking the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t notice, but we can’t have that, can we? Hold still.” 

You don’t hold still, shying away the first time he reaches for you. But Sirius understands that it’s not him you’re trying to get away from; he’s patient and diligent, wiping beneath your lashes with careful touches. You feel hot from the tips of your ears down to your chest. 

“There. Perfect as ever before.” He plants a smiling kiss on your lips. “Is that all, lovely?” 

“I think I’ve maybe had too much.” 

Concern touches the space between Sirius’ brows. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“No, I just—well, no one else had as much. I feel like they can tell I’m faking.” 

Sirius is frowning properly now. Inadequacy rings baldly in your tone. His thumb strokes down your cheek. “Faking what?” he asks you. 

“Being good at this,” you murmur.

“You are good at this.” He seems defensive, as if you’re discussing his shortcomings and not your own. “You don’t—there’s no one way you have to be. Sweetheart, I want you here because I want my friends to meet you. It sort of defeats the purpose if you’re putting on someone else for them to meet.” 

“I just—okay. I’m not jealous of Mary. That’s not what this is.” You’re talking a bit too fast, drink lubricating your throat so near anything seems likely to come out. “But I can see how you two would have worked together, and how she works with your friends—she fits in. Everyone’s so fun, and you’re all fast with your jokes, and I’m, I’m not that. I can try, but I think…” Your voice quiets. “I’m not very good at it.” 

As you’re talking, Sirius’ eyes are narrowing. He’s brazen in his thoughtfulness, seeming to size you up while he listens. Whatever audacity is left in you sputters out under the weight of that look. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks after a moment.

You hum softly. 

“I don’t know how you’ve not managed to pick up on this, because I haven’t been trying for subtlety” —he draws you closer by your waist, until you’re nearly stepping on his toes— ”but I think you’re perfect. Really. You can go out there and ask anyone at our table, they’ll tell you I’ve been saying it since a week after we met. Marlene would probably love to tell you, actually, she found it rather irritating.” 

You look down at his throat, but Sirius encourages your chin back up with his finger. “You’re fun,” he says. “You’re loads of fun. And you’re just as quick with jokes—actually, you’re loads funnier than Remus, though you can’t tell him I said that.” 

“Sirius,” you chide, suppressing a smile. 

“Dead serious,” he says with a straight face. “Really, lovely, just because you’re not as outspoken as all of us twats fighting to shout over each other doesn’t mean you don’t have important things to say. They know that, they all know that. And can I tell you something else?” 

You hum again, made wary by the glint in his eye. 

Sirius leans closer to your ear. “I sort of like that you’re usually only loud for me. In private.” 

Your laughter comes out suddenly enough to startle you both, you closing a hand over your mouth while Sirius leans away, grinning. 

“God, sorry,” you whisper, looking around in case you’ve attracted attention, “that was loud.” 

“Well, we are in private.” 

“You’re awful.” You hide against his front, giggling. 

“Yes, yes, I’m awful and you’re perfect.” Sirius kisses your hair. “I know all of this already, it’s only news to you. Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but we probably should get back to our table before they send James for us. They were already complaining about you being too long in the loo before I left; they’ve grown rather attached to you.” 

Your brief silence must communicate enough of your surprise, because Sirius laughs. 

“Oh, right, yeah. They really like you. Shocking.” 

[madamechrissy]

Teacher's Pet

Pairings- Boyfriend Takuma Ino x F! reader x Professor Nanami

Warnings absolutely MDNI - oral (f receiving from Ino and Nanami) fingering, messy kissing, Nanami is 35, reader and Ino are like 21, so age gap. Threesome aspects and general freakiness, light choking, dom daddy type Nanami, masturbation (Nanami) and panty stealing

A/N- had a request for college AU Ino/reader/Nanami where Nanami is your 'professor' and teaches you some ahem... things? I haven't written Ino before so I hope I don't fuck him up here - it's PWP lol

Takuma Ino had never thought he would get this, get to feel your slick heat against his fingers, your sweet little cries in his ears as you arch your hips against his hand, trembling as it touches you over your panties. It had been just a harmless kiss, really, after class - only for you both to fall into each other, mouths hungrier and hungrier, even as they're clumsy.

Ino was still a virgin senior year of college, but he swears it's because he was waiting for you, he can't even see anyone but you, long before you decided to date him. Now his cock is throbbing, he's willing it to go down as he tries to find what you like. What is it, here, where he presses and your hips jerk? Or here, slipping under the elastic of your panties now, and finding you soaked.

"Oh, baby you're so wet, d-do you like this?" He asks softly, chocolate brown eyes almost black as he studies your face in earnest, you nod shakily, eyes fluttering shut as he watches you.

"I love it, f-feels so good," you want to guide him a bit, but he's having so much fun exploring you, devoted as he presses kisses across your cheeks, hands fumbling until one dips into your soppy interest. "Ah!"

"There, that's good?" He pulls back again, asking softly, you nod in response and he sinks it just a little deeper, exhaling as he pulls his finger out then.

"Back in, back in!" You're whining out, you're spread wide on Professor Nanami's desk, the thrill rushing through you, making you drip along his polished cherry wood in the empty class.

"Wanna taste it, though," you're a flustered mess when Ino sucks you right off his finger, moaning, cheeks hollowing as if you're the sweetest thing. "Oh my god, you're so yummy..."

"I am?" He kneels now, and you're panicking just a bit, tugging at his sleek brown strands.

"Wanna kiss you here, is it okay?"

"Y-yes if you- oh!" He's flicking his tongue up your slit, pushing your plump lips apart to eye you, breath hitting as you hold up your pleated skirt for him. "Ino!"

"It's so pretty," he doesn't know where to lick or what to do, pressing a kiss against your hood and stealing more of that flavor on his lips, feeling you tugging at his hair and exhaling, hands pressing firmly into your thighs, when the lock clicks, but he doesn't hear it over your soft whines, and neither do you.

Which leads Professor Nanami, exhausted and ready to take a nap in his damn office, to see his prettiest straight A student spread wide on his desk, and his other straight A student kissing her between her thighs. Nanami shuts the door quickly, locking it and striding up, when your fucked out eyes widen and see him, and you panic, shoving off the desk and gesturing wildly.

Ino, who worships the ground Nanami walks on, is clearly pussy drunk - and Nanami can understand, he got a glimpse of it, and just that has his cock throbbing.

He's jerked off to you more times than he'd ever admit, he shouldn't, you're his student and his law student at that, he can't think that way about you, especially being one of his brightest, and with a good kid like Ino. But fuck if he hasn't pictured being between your thighs instead, teaching you what it's like to really get fucked, now he wasn't too much older at thirty five, but he still felt shitty thinking it all.

"Professor Nanami, I'm so sorry! Oh my god, please, I..." You're panicked while Ino is furiously red, covering his face while Nanami crosses his broad arms.

"It's my fault, Mr. Nanami, not her, don't get her in trouble, I couldn't stop myself," he rubs the back of his neck and Nanami eyes his now discheveled desk, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Looked like you weren't doing it correctly," he says, making the both of you pause now, and you're blushing furiously as Nanami eyes you, hazel gaze drifting down your body like a caress. Every girl fawned over his handsome features, you weren't immune to them, but to have him look at you like that, made your situation worse.

"I have no clue what I'm doing, no." You look at Ino with wide eyes. "Can you... show me?"

"Show you!? Ino have you lost it!?" You're tugging at his black sweater, and he brushes a thumb across your cheek.

"I wanna know how to please you, baby." You melt at how sweet he is, fully expecting Professor Nanami to deny the request, but his huge, veiny hand loosens his silky tie as he comes closer now, leaning over you, the scent of his cologne filling your senses.

"Up on the desk then, love," his soft command is met with him lifting you like you're nothing, sitting your right on the desk now, his desk, tilting your chin up to look at him. "So tell me, when you play with your pretty pussy, do you stick your little fingers in, or rub your clit?"

Your mouth goes dry at the statement, Ino is looking at you with those pretty eyes, ever curious, your cheeks heat up, decorating your skin with color. "My clit, Professor."

"So we'll focus there first." Nanami methodically slips your panties down your thighs, biting back a moan when your scent hits him, panties that may or may not have ended up in his pocket. Nanami may or may not need these later. "Come on then," he gestures and Ino eagerly gets on his knees - your boyfriend and your stupidly hot professor, this was not how you thought your first time getting eaten out would be. "Look here."

"Pretty, so pretty," Ino's words make Nanami chuckle, spreading you wide so he can show Ino where your clit is, lifting your hood, and that's when Nanami and Ino see your twitchy little clit, you whine out, biting your lip.

"She is pretty." You can't even look at them then, covering your face. "You'd focus there since that's how she plays with herself." He looks up then, fingers pressing against your calf to get your attention. "Should I demonstrate?"

"Yes, please." Your whisper ends his resolve, shoving him off the deep end, flicking the tip of his tongue on your little clit now, you gasp as it hits, and he moans as your sweetness pours against his slender lips, coating them in your gloss. "Oh!"

"You can finger her too, but she's tiny," he slips a digit in, feeling you grip him tightly, groaning as he thinks how good it'd be to slip inside your hot, slick little cunt. "So be gentle."

"I wouldn't hurt her," you're torn between embarrassment and utter lust, when Nanami curls his thick finger up, pressing on your spot while his tongue works in methodical little flicks, and your hands yank his perfect hair before you can stop yourself. "Oh, look, she loves it,"

"Mnh!" You're gushing down your law professor's face now, he has to palm the bulge over his slacks with his free hand, looking up at your pretty face, all contorted in pleasure.

"Are you close, baby?" Ino leans up now, caressing your face sweetly, you nod, gripping his sweater with your free hand while Nanami drags your cunt against his face. "Then cum, let me see you, then I'll make you cum again."

"Y-you sure?" You ask, he just nods, gripping your breasts, while Nanami's finger curls just so in your gummy walls, and you shatter, screaming out into Ino's lips while Nanami slurps you up, positively filthy - you have never cum like that, even with toys. He's lapping at you, eliciting more and more drooling arousal as you struggle to blink anything into vision. "Oh my god... mnh... Professor Nanami..."

He presses a kiss on your cunt now, and Ino eagerly sinks to his knees, kissing an overstimulated clit when Nanami is just an inch from your face, you flush as you see you've made a mess of him too, thumb brushing his slick on his chin, he grips your wrist then, while Ino slips his tongue up to your clit, and you bite back a moan.

"She likes it, good job," Nanami murmurs, Ino buries his face then, sucking your clit into his mouth without thinking, your thighs are trembling, cunt throbbing while Nanami places a hand under your chin, wrapping your throat. "A little light choking can make it even better, but you have to be careful. Want me to show you?"

You nod weakly, and Nanami squeezes your throat now, giving into the temptation and kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and squeezing your delicate neck, delighting in your whines and cries, muffled as he squeezes. He almost cums just kissing you, seeing your innocent face lost in the pleasure, hearing your squelching wet cunt in his classroom. He's grabbing you, tongue sliding into your sweet mouth, while your cunt spasms around Ino's long, slender finger, delicately curling up.

"You're doing so well, darling," he whispers to you, encouraging you while you cling to his silky cheetah tie, oxygen fading while he squeezes, thumb pressing against your racing pulse while your eyes roll back in your skull, Ino is whining out desperately, his cock already leaking precum as he feels your aftershocks grip his finger, your arousal coating his face.

"Mnh!" You almost faint, ears ringing now, floating damn near blinded when Nanami releases his hand, and gently kisses against it, all while you're gripping his broad shoulders, almost falling the fuck over.

"Oh fuck..." Ino murmurs, leaning up and looking at you, you kiss him eagerly, hips twitching when Nanami runs his fingers over you, already so sensitive you almost cum from the contact, before giving you a firm smack, making you gasp out.

"That's for being bad." He says with a little smirk, you exhale, cunt stinging, before he glares at the two of you, fixing his collar and tie that you've led askew, crossing his arms again. "I better not find the two of you doing this again... without my permission."

"No, we won't, we are sorry Professor." Nanami just hums a bit, sitting with his legs spread wide in his seat, while Ino helps you down, fixing your skirt and eyeing you. "Are you okay? Was it good?"

"Good isn't even the word..." You bury your face a bit, embarassed as he pulls you against him, feeling Nanami's hungry eyes on you.

"I wanna do that all the time now." Ino murmurs, you giggle, taking his hands, before looking at the man who licks your cunt off his lips, raising a thin brow.

Never in a million years did you think Professor Nanami would have devoured you like that, the feeling makes your tummy tense, as you snuggle your boyfriend, who you feel his arousal, making you ever so curious, you touch it just a bit, watching his reaction.

"Baby you don't have to do anything." He's so sweet, you sigh, looking over at Nanami again.

"Maybe you can show me a lesson next?" You say softly, and his cock twitches in response, picturing giving you lessons on your knees, as you look up with those eyes that are fucking Nanami up currently.

"Yes, well, I'll see if I fit it in my schedule," he sets his glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose. "Out you two, now."

"Thank you, Professor." You two run off, and Nanami catches your gaze on him before you two shut the door, when he breaks down, thick cock slapping his dress shirt and drooling pre out of his reddened tip. He hisses as he touches it, panties slipped out of his pocket and right on his face.

"Ino that was insane!?" You're whispering, breathless, he smiles just a bit then, pressing you against the wall, where on the other side your professor is cumming to your taste he's lapping off your missing panties.

"You loved it though. But... I wanna do it alone," his whisper rushes across your skin as he whispers in your ear. "What do you think?"

"Yes," the two of you rush off to your dorm, leaving Nanami to contemplate just what lesson he has for you next while he's busting hot ropes into his hand of his classroom, cursing the clock when he realizes he's not getting a nap and it's your fault... surely a punishment is in order.

LMAO this was so dumb and smutty

perm tags @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[yominero]

DEVIL MAY CRY — PUSSY DRUNK EDITION

PRESS START TO LOSE CONTROL

dmc men x fem!reader (separate)

your boyfriend goes feral between your thighs. oral fixation? more like obsession.

NOW LOADING... face-sitting, oral fixation, messy devotion, and dangerously horny devils. WHO IS NUMBER ONE?

PLAYER NAME: NERO PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 100 TITLE RANK: THE WORSHIPPER DIRTY SECRET: Once he got a taste, he became obsessed.

Nero is undeniably the most pussy drunk out of the three. He starts with the awkward energy of a guy who’s like, “Do I go left or—oh, got it baby,” and immediately spirals into addiction. His hands are gripping your thighs, his Devil Breaker locked around your waist, keeping you in place.

He lives to make you tremble with only his tongue. He loves watching you fall apart. He gets off on the sounds you make, the way you squirm, tug his hair, and scream his name, squeezing him between your legs as he goes deeper and deeper. And he calls himself a devil hunter? No, honey, he's a professional diver.

“Baby, fuck, I could do this all day. You taste so good. Look at you, already gone, and I haven’t even started.”

When you come, he doesn’t stop. He moans into your dripping folds, licks it up like he’s dying of thirst in the middle of the desert, welcomed into the oasis called you. It's terrible how much you spoil him... He can't go a day without seeing, feeling, or tasting you. And he claims that the only devil thing is his arm, how funny. Do we need to comment on his tongue and how it makes you open your own gate to Hell?

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk like it’s his life purpose.

Nero’s embarrassed about how much he loves it, but does it anyway. Over and over again. Let it rain over him, or on him—he wouldn’t mind which way it goes, especially if you just so happened to squirt and make a mess. Sometimes he's speechless, and he just looks up at you, licks his lips while staring at your fucked up face, and smiles like a child who seems to have received a long-awaited birthday present.

PLAYER NAME: DANTE PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 98 TITLE RANK: THE SHOW-OFF DIRTY SECRET: Loves the taste, the sound, the mess. He wants it all, and he wants you to know.

Dante loves oral. He’s cocky about it, and for a damn good reason, not to brag or anything, but he’s amazing at it. It’s not just about skill; he enjoys the whole act. The slow build-up, the angelic sounds you make when the devil is right between your legs. The visual. He’ll drag his tongue across your folds and then look up with a smirk, lips wet, like “You good, princess? Can I go deeper?”

He’ll eat you out on the couch, on the counter, on the damn floor. Loudly. Sloppily. Groaning like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, because let’s be honest—it is the best meal he’s ever had. After that, he doesn't want to taste or look at anything else. He knows very well what effect it has on and in you. He'll have the audacity to smirk when he feels your legs pressing and squeezing his face. Well, if he's going to die here, he'll die a happy man.

“You’re drippin’, babe. And I haven’t even done anything yet? Shit, I love this pussy.”

He ruts the mattress while he’s doing it. No shame. Your pleasure is his pleasure, you are his top priority, because nothing will make him feel better than the fact that he has done his job successfully, or as he likes to say, "Jackpot!"

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk and proud about it, will shout it off rooftops.

Dante absolutely, with no hesitation, makes you sit on his face. Grabs your ass and keeps you there, seated nicely on your throne. You know how it goes—two plus two, he is going to undress you, then go three in three, you are going to undress him. Four in four, you are going to freak some more. He says Jackpot when he hits the spot that will 100% guarantee an orgasm…Yeah, he won for life.

PLAYER NAME: VERGIL PUSSY DRUNK LEVEL: 90 TITLE RANK: THE STORM DIRTY SECRET: He acts like he’s in control, but when he’s down there? He’s gone.

Vergil doesn’t rush to eat you out. But when he does, it’s quiet, intense, and deliberate. He spreads you open with those gloves and examines you first like a rare artifact, then devours you with the focus of a warrior.

His tongue is slow and deep, keeping his eyes locked on your facial expression. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t moan, or make a sound. You are the one who wanted to play with the devil; might as well follow the game rules. As they say, the devil may work hard, but Vergil works harder.

But the second you moan? He groans into you, stops just for one millisecond to take a deep breath and regain his composure. Still, the man is a control freak; give him a second or not, it doesn't matter since you don’t know how to count right now anyway.

“Be still,” he murmurs, gripping your thighs. And no matter how fast your head spun, you knew you would most likely have his fingerprints on you—as a reminder, a rule, a command, of what your role is. “You will come when I allow it.”

And he forces you to hold eye contact if he’s angled right. You’ll be crying, blinking, and averting your gaze, and he’ll whisper, “You’re not done yet.” You're far from done...Ah, he and his orgasm denial kink are taking over once again. Great, this is just what you needed at this moment. You looked at him with those pitiful and shocked eyes, expecting at least a little mercy. Don't worry, you'll get compensation as long as you can endure what’s coming next, and you better hope it’s going to be you.

NEXT LEVEL: Pussy drunk while he’s feral in silence.

Vergil enjoys this a little too much because it gives him power, and seeing you fall apart from just his mouth, feeds every possessive urge in him to ruin you. He is literally synonymous with "Actions speak louder than words" and proves it every damn time. Doesn't want to admit it, and he absolutely never will, only over his dead body, but when you moan his name and desire more than you can bear, it provides an inner satisfaction to him. But he knows your limits... sometimes.

©2025 yominero do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 - 𝐌.𝐒.

Synopsis: Matt makes sure you feel every single thing.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, big dick matt.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Mhm, fuckkkkkk—-so deep, isn’t it?” he purrs, his breath huffing out onto your cheek as he fucks himself into your gut, his lips parted and resting on your cheek. 

It was still all so hazy. An early morning nap after Matt had gotten home from a meeting had led to this—you both tangled on the living room couch with clothes being ripped off eagerly. At first, it was his hands that drove you insane. The way he delicately traced your skin, still half asleep, but desperate to touch you. His mouth was quick to follow. Sloppy kisses and drags of his tongue along your neck drove you insane—but that wasn’t the only thing driving you insane. It was those stupid glasses. And he knew. He knew they drove you absolutely crazy and he fucking loved it. Your hands gripping onto him, your thighs clenching together…it was so refreshing to see you so needy. 

You let out shrieks between each ram of his hips. He’s hitting just the right spot, over and over again and fuck—you can’t get enough, but you can’t seem to stay still. The muscles and joints of your body contrast what you really want, squirming and writhing under his vicious pounding, sinking you into the cushions. “I—Matt, I—mmmmm ‘s good—it’s….it’s so—oh!” you scream, your nails digging into his biceps as you feel him let out a dry laugh, the slaps of skin becoming more frequent—somehow even louder. 

“--’s so good, hm? Can’t—stop—fuck—squirmin, huh?” His grip on you gets tighter, but it just isn’t enough. The cushions are letting your body run away from him—run away from all the pleasure that you need. “I—more, more—need more, please,” you whine, your eyes watering from frustration as your body falls further away from the growing knot in your gut. 

Matt is quick to think. His eyes wander around for a split second, the sweat gliding down his forehead accompanying an obsessive gleam, his stare shifting from the floor to you. 

The second he places your body on the floor beneath his own, it’s everything. Each thrust, each slap of skin, it all has you silently screaming. “There we go…yeah—no where to go now, hm?” he taunts, his hand cradling behind your head and hugging you into the crook of his shoulder. 

It’s addicting the way your body starts to shake beneath him. He can’t get enough of ramming himself so deep and rough against your walls, prodding at the one spot that makes ungodly noises fall from your lips. 

There’s a frustration still lingering. Matt can feel his glasses sliding down his sweaty nose, annoyed as he has to keep pushing them up. Watching your face contort, he lets out a shaky moan with an idea, reaching up and placing his glasses onto your face. 

You barely even notice. Too far gone in every sensation he’s giving you, your eyes are fluttering and rolling back. He’s more than happy. Nothing is holding him back from fucking you with no limitations. There’s nowhere for you to squirm, there’s nothing distracting him from lunging himself so deep that he can feel your hips vibrate beneath him. 

“Oh—Matt, I—” you seethe, your teeth clamping onto his shoulder with a desperation for some sort of grounding as the familiar bliss makes every pore in your body ignite with waves of pleasure from each devoted movement of his hips. 

“Yeah, that’s right, sweetheart,” he rasps, straining a hiss as your teeth clamp deeper into his shoulder. His hand caresses softly in your hair, contradicting the furious snap of his dick into your sticky walls. “Mhm—c’mon, just—fuck—-just feel it all, yeah? No–ohmygod—no where to squirm now. You—you gotta feel every inch of me, hm? I—-fuck yeah, keep—keep squeezin’ me like that, I—” 

Cries leave your lips, muffled by the skin of his shoulder in your mouth as you feel yourself tip over the edge. Your body tries to move away from the overwhelming pleasure. Matt is sure to keep you pinned to the floor. 

He’s sure to make you feel every single thing. 

[tojisun]

john price and omegaverse and marking and how he thinks he's too old for it; that he's missed the opportunity, the timing, what with his duties and loyalties. and now that he's retired, he's tired and weary for a bond. he has nothing else to give a mate; no desire for a family or to start a pack because he's already got his own - the boys are his, no matter wherever they are, scattered by the years that crawled by - but.

finding you threw a wrench in his plans; ruining the quiet life he's envisioned, cycling through his rut with tentative partners and partial commitments. of a life, banal but one that he had so wanted during his prime years when he was there, cupped hands full of blood. of decay.

but you.

oh how sweet you are.

beautiful as you mewl, tears and hiccups just much more endearing as you wriggle underneath him, trapped between the bed and his bulk. the pleasure exceeds everything he's already experienced, turning him over - a new leaf, a new season. unchartered desires cross the roof of his mouth, building. the froth is thick, clogging his throat.

your neck is bare. unmarked. ripe for the taking.

john's gums ache, pulsing. saliva trickles, viscous as they bathe his teeth - poisoned fangs poised for a strike. he bows forward, pitching close, his nose brushing over the sweaty strands of your hair, only-

"n'yet," you hiccup, a sad little thing, and john agrees.

not yet.

there is so much more to be done, so much more he needs to prove to you; in the courting, the bonding, even with your heat.

but the hunger has reached its peak, ready for the strike, and john presses back against his skull, fighting against instinct-

blood bursts in his jowls, slipping down his tongue and into his throat. it closes up at the familiar tang - john had covered your nape with the back of his arm and sunk his teeth into his own skin.

this will leave a mark. a proof of his devotion. a show of his restraint.

his omega purrs, pleased, and john feels elated; so drunken by the scent of your happiness that his bones feel liquified, like ample jellies have replaced the marrows.

the copper in his throat is drying by the time he pulls out and turns you so you could meet his gaze. your eyes are puffy with tears but you draw him close for a kiss anyway, your tender tongue lapping at the corner of his lips, tasting himself.

you hum in delight, and john rumbles, nuzzling into the soft press of your neck.

he kisses at a tender spot.

"here," he murmurs as he breathes you in. "i'll sink it here."

"yes," you gasp out, voice breathless. "yes, please."

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[meowdei]

Sukuna is not good at apologizing.

And you? You’re not good at letting go of grudges. The end result is a pretty nasty predicament—you’re mad at him, he’s mad that you’re mad at him, and you’re mad that he’s mad that you’re mad at him. It’s a full circle. The start point and the end point meet and you just don’t know where to begin.

He could always apologize, of course—that would be a lovely start. But he won’t. (He really should, though, you think. It’s his fault).

“Hey,” he says gruffly, “scoot over. ‘S my side.”

You’re taking up the entire bed. A petty, childish, and last resort sort of method to keep him away from you for the night because you don’t think you can handle dealing with him in such close proximity. And of course, you certainly won’t be taking the couch, so that naturally leaves only one option: him.

“Hey. Did’ya hear me?” He scowls, looking at you with deeply creased, deeply furrowed brows and an intense glare that makes you want to throw a pillow at his face. You refrain, however—but only because someone has to be the emotionally intelligent one of the two of you, and it certainly won’t be him. “I said move over—I’m tired as fuck and I wanna sleep.”

“Then sleep,” comes your unhelpful reply.

“They teach you this in the first grade,” he smiles thinly, eyes narrowed into slits as he gives you a sarcastic look, “but you actually have to lay down to sleep. Can’t do that if you hog the entire damn bed.”

“I’m sure they taught you what a couch was in first grade, too,” you counter—and as if to double down on your juvenile, stubborn display of spitefulness, you angle your body to take up more of his side of the bed. “Go ahead and use that if you wanna lay down so bad.”

“And they also teach you in first grade that the couch is bad for your damn fucking back, so move the fuck—”

You cut him off sharply with a rather snobby tone. “That’s not in the first grade curriculum. I don’t know what first grade you went to, but maybe that would explain some of the loose screws in your head.”

He’s had enough. Sukuna is not good at apologizing. And on most days, he’s not that good at being a boyfriend, either. Not by the general standards, anyway. He doesn’t say sweet words or coddle you very much. Sometimes, he’s awkward about affection and doesn’t quite know how to initiate physical touch. And, on most days, he can’t communicate his feelings properly, so they tend to come out wrong. Typically, that manifests in rough, unintentionally harsh words.

He’s not proud of it, but it’s not a switch he can exactly flip off in one day.

But one thing he is good at, however, is worming his way into your soft spot, anyway. It’s a very peculiar, very distinct part of you that for some unknown reason, opens up for him and puts up with his bullshit regardless of what that bullshit is. Fifty percent soft, sweet affection, and one hundred percent stupid, foolish devotion.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He debates it for a moment—because sometimes even Sukuna doesn’t dare test your limits—before he ultimately decides to go for whatever plan he’s scheming. It turns out his plan involves all two-hundred-something pounds of his bulky, muscled figure draping itself over your body with an exaggerated sigh from him. You flinch, gasping in shock, and he simply gets himself comfortable.

Sukuna is not good at apologizing.

Yet, somehow, he’s even worse at reading the room, evidently. You clearly don’t want him near you, but here he is, arguably closer to you now than he is on the average night.

“Sukuna!” You hiss, trying to push him off as you grumble under his weight, “get off! You asshole, you’re too heavy for—”

“Heavy?” He gasps, “this is considered body negativity.”

“Oh fuck off,” you scowl, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what, exactly?” He asks smugly.

Despite it all, there’s something surprisingly gentle about the way he lays on you. His head is perfectly situated to rest against your collarbone, his hands delicately have your hips in their hold, and half of his body is slotted between your legs to keep a good brunt of his weight off of you.

More than anything, he’s a weighted blanket than he is an aggravating boyfriend that you’re trying to avoid.

“Is everything a joke to you?” You glare.

He glares back. Equally as hard, equally as intense, but infinitely more infatuated underneath it all. “No,” he grumbles, “just don’t like goin’ to bed mad. So ‘m here whether you like it or not.”

Some part of you can’t help but soften at that. A small, fractional, tiny amount of you thinks…oh. Oh.

(And yes, there are certainly better ways to express: I would like to go to bed without being mad at each other because I love you too much, but he’s not perfect. Nowhere near it. That much is a known fact quite abundantly by now. But you know what he means, and in you’re being honest with yourself…well, it’s enough.

He’s always enough, even when he seems like he shouldn’t be.)

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble stubbornly.

Your arms wrap around him tightly.

“And I’m still fuckin’ tired and sleepy. What’s your point?”

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent.

You’re mad at Sukuna. And he’s tired of it. Sometimes, he’s not good at apologizing, and sometimes you’re stubborn about accepting it. In the end, your limbs tangle in bed like this, anyway. You think that’s the only part that really matters.

You sigh, pulling up the blanket to cover yourselves. (Mainly you. He just happens to be there, too, of course. But this isn’t for his warmth, too—it’s just for yours. How cold he is or isn’t through the night is of no concern to you.)

“Night,” he mumbles quietly after some time, “and…and sorry, or whatever. I…well, I just…you know?”

You snort softly at his attempt, giving in and letting your fingers weave into his soft, familiar strands of hair while he relaxes at the feeling.

“We’ll talk in the morning. I love you.”

He smiles a little into your neck. It’s barely-there, but it undoubtedly exists.

“Love you too.”

“A lot, right?” You ask cheekily.

It’s quiet for a moment. You think he’s going to tell you to shut up, or just go to sleep, already. Instead, there’s a hushed mumble of, “yeah. A lot. Now goodnight.”

(You fall asleep rather quickly after that—and admittedly, much easier than you would have if his body was on the couch and not with you.)

Cliche fights before bed that end with a begrudging petty cuddle sesh are my guilty pleasure. My crack if you will