#i feel like he'd really appreciate the lunches though

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I just wanna smooch and love on koko so bad 😩😩 like, send him off with a packed lunch with a sweet note in it (I KNOW he tends to forget to eat when he’s busy), cuddle up to him as we talk about our day—

Married life with him would be so fun I just know it 😩😩 Ughhh I just wish we could have more sneak peeks into their day to day livesss wakui plsssssS I wanna know why he was ranked in the top three 😩😩😩😔

I'm pretty sure it's because of how attentive and caring he is as a partner! He just seems so loving and dedicated to anyone he's with, he would definitely make a good partner. I mean he literally risked his own life to save Akane's. Definitely always putting his partner above himself and trying to take care of them. He's just a sweetheart towards his partner!

[yaniluvs]

lingering touches and stolen kisses 日 ── ot8 [maknae line] skz ; how is pda with your boyfriend?

click to be directed to the hyung-line version !!

𓍯 maknae-line idol!skz ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）0.7k ── ༯ HEADCANONS, tooth rotting fluff, kisses, hugs, established relationship, req. by anon . ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ maknae line ver. !! as we are iii is in works and might be posted by today >< thanks to anon for the request, hope you like it! comments, requests, asks, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

jisung ୨୧ this man dgaf. honestly, if anything, he's going to be yapping to you 24-7. belting random love songs while in the dressing room, for you. wants to be holding your hand, definitely.. (see what i did there?) giving you a lot of pecks. mostly on your lips or chin. idk why, i just feel like he'd do that. randomly starts spinning you and laughing in between practices. desperate of your attention. during lunch breaks, he definitely wants to feed you a bit, even with you complaining. the jeekies being so full of food, random winks thrown at your direction with dramatic flying kisses; no matter the complaints shot by his members, and a certain glare by a certain someone. i'd say not even two minutes later he's being chased minho.

felix ୨୧ my baby !!!!! he's definitely a little shy because of the constant teasing of his members. i feel like he'd also not only love holding your hand like all the others, but also be comparing the sizes of your palms, his being tiny but still bigger than your tinier ones, both wearing the couple rings he bought for you two. he'd also be absentmindedly tracing shapes, and anything on your skin, tickling you a bit. he loves to see you giggle or laugh, joining you. he's stay really close to you, when you're counting his freckles. he's so giving you pecks all over your face, and even little head pats. he's absolutely adorable and a bigggggg cuddle bear >< (you saw it coming.) loves loves loves having you on his lap ! you cannot prove me wrong; it can be when you're alone, or with the members; sometimes during breaks between his practice, or when he's in the dorm, trying to go back to silver from bronze, with the rest of the younger maknae line (seungmo, iyen). with the controller in his hands, arms circling around your waist, trapping you as you watched them play, possible trying to count the freckles on his face when you're distracted by him. it doesn't matter, he neeeedssss you close !!

seungmin ୨୧ a literal menacing pup of a boyfriend. he'll be treating you more like a kid than a girlfriend. playing soooo hard to get even if you're in a relationship for a year (it's normal !! he loves pushing your buttons. but there definitely is a very soft side of him.) / being nonchalant, as if he's not tempted to keep you on his lap every single minute. holding hands. he will not be very loud about it, but he will keep it subtle and cutesy. caressing your thumb. caressing your cheek when you lean in too close. heating up like a cherry when you give him a peck, shocking him; he's embarrassed asf. the member's presence is not helping. he will not admit it but he clearly is flustered and wants more of the kisses. but usually won't initiate it in public. feel like subtle grips on your waist or thigh; protectively. some days, he'll be initiating hugs in public though. keeping you close, in a louder way, ykwim? probably also likes braiding your hair or putting it in a bun (and almost failing to do so), when your hair is down or he's just bored.

jeongin ୨୧ he's as red as a tomato, at first though !! the hyungs just can't believe seeing their maknae having a lover; they do love you; but they love love love teasing the hell out of him. though it grows on him. at first, he used to only hold you close or give brief cheek-pecks, but as you both got used to it, he doesn't mind it anymore but he's not as loud as in private. it's not a big deal, he's just very private about his love life !! when with the members, he's comfortable. back-hugs, forehead kisses, tiny pecks, holding hands, all of that. very protective though. needs you around him at all times. he'd also be having have an arm around your shoulders !! if you're cold, either wrapping his arms around you works or draping his jacket on your shoulders does too.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily

[bunny-jpeg]

trappin' (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, baby trapping & pregnancy, dumb!reader, mafia don!price, rich!price, burly & hairy!price, tattoos, age gap (20s/40s)

bunny says: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! i have a few ideas in my head about maybe a simon version or a konig version! (please leave your suggestions!!!)

this was going to be so painfully easy. when you saw which shelf the older man ordered from, you saw dollar signs in your eyes. so with the front zipper of your dress pulled down a little to show off the 'goods', you went over to him at the bar.

you were flirty and sweet. your hand on his bicep, you didn't realize the toned muscles of his arms. oh, he was more than just a rich older man.

"well, aren't you just a sweet thing." he rubbed the top of your head. he said his name, "john price, love." like you should've known it. so you simply nodded when he told you it, and you gave your own name.

"how about we get out of here?" you asked with a cute smile, "i'm not really the best at bars, sadly." then dropped the smile into a small pout.

he hung over you like a shadow as he cupped your face, "aw, someone scared?"

you nodded, giving him the most innocent look, "can i go home with you tonight, mister price?" you saw his expression soften at the question. hook, line & sinker.

you had poked holes in the condom. happy to hand it over under the guise of you needing to 'protect' yourself. as if it didn't look like a strainer with all the holes in it.

price watched you get undressed slowly. he eyed you with a predator's gaze as he undid his tie and took off the jacket of his suit. price looked and smelled expensive, it would be perfect little paycheck. your thoughts were filled with stacks of sterling pounds, that you didn't even catch that price noticed the holes in the condom and chuckled.

silly girl, he thought. he knew exactly what you were doing. you weren't the first person to try and squeeze money out of him via a little price brat. but price got hard at the idea of such a gorgeous, conniving woman would fail so beautifully.

he did need a wife after all, and the ones the family were trying to pair him with were simply so boring. you, on the other hand, were a little firecracker who knew what she wanted. but as he pressed you into the bed, his lips on the back of your neck as he rubbed his cock up against his ass. he knew that he needed a ring on you fast.

"mmm, that feels good." he said, "see how hard ya made me, love?"

you'd do just fine as mrs. price. don't worry your little head though, you weren't going to get involved with the family business. just make sure that you make price lunch before he heads to the office and tuck the kids into bed before he comes home.

your stomach did somersaults when you felt the pressure of his tattooed hand against your throat. you saw all of his tattoos on his hairy body when he undressed. you had no idea what they represented, while the one of the dagger was a little more obvious (not to you), even the "gentler" ones, like the flag of his hometown on his shoulder or 141 on his collarbone painted a grim story of price's past.

you should've not poked those holes in that condom. silly girl.

he pushed you deep into the pillows of his hotel room. he had you bent at an awkward angle and polluted all of your space. leaving you little room to breathe as he sank his cock into your waiting hole.

price was a bad man, you should've ran when you had the chance. because when he got his cock wet in you, he felt a sense of euphoria that he never had with any other slag he had been with. you were different, it was like the heavens had opened and given him a gift.

a pretty young thing with a need to be bred.

oh yeah, he was keeping you. there were no questions asked. one hand on your throat, the other on your hip as he thrusted into you. he knew, he knew right then that you weren't getting too far after tonight. maybe he'd let you slip out think you got what you wanted, but that was all just to add a little fun to your game.

thinking that you were the top dog in this, but you were just a scrappy little thing. nothing like the pitbull that price was. he didn't manage an entire mafia family without getting a little... tough. and you may go back to your crummy little flat and wait anxiously for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

but come the end of tomorrow, he'd already know everything he needed to know about you. from where you lived and went to school to how many moles were on your back. hell, even if you were ovulating to begin with.

he pressed your head further into the bed and thrusted into you. your ass shook with each heavy stroke of his cock inside of you. and don't worry, if it doesn't take this time. there's always next time, and the time after, and the time after that.

ah, you silly little thing. this wasn't a one night stand. this was price prepping you for being his wife. you thought you were getting away with one kid? one kid in his world is rookie numbers, you'll be having your hands full for a good while.

he continued to rut into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. with each one you became some soft for him, you harsh moans because soft little mewls as each orgasm hit.

"such a good girl. aren't i lucky to have found ya." he got both hands on his hips and he battered your womb with his impressive size. he was big and hairy all over, covered in tattoos and an accent that melted your brain.

you fit him like a glove, it was a sign you two were meant to be together! he was still fucking you with the stamina of someone closer to your age, meanwhile you were laid out under him with your eyes barely open. poor girl's gone and got her brains fucked out for the night.

that was alright, meant that price could dump a few loads into you before you came to again. he'd of course never hurt you, not in that way. but you were the temptress that led him back to his room, he was just reaping his reward.

he panted against your ear, the filth in his words made your pussy clench around his aching cock. all it took was two little cells to mix together and you'd be a proper mama.

don't worry, price hasn't ruined all of his swimmers over the years.

with a few more thrusts, price found heaven. he shot his seed into your pussy. spat it right up against your womb, a promise of what was to come.

"john." you said with a loose tongue.

"didn't finish yet." he lied, "almost there. you just lie there for me, alright? i'll take good care of ya, baby girl."

he didn't even bother to pull out as he got you on your back. he wanted to see that blissed out expression while he put your knees to your ears and your puffy, wet cunt on display.

a proper mating press for the silly little girl who thought she was going to pull the rug out from under mister jonathan price.

-

you rubbed your lower back and huffed. you were only in your fifth month, but the baby was expected to be rather big. you couldn't complain only a fool would climb the mountain that was john price.

one of the most dangerous men in london.

what started out as a ploy to get enough money to pay for university ended with you dropping out to be price's full-time housewife. with the rock, the house and the baby to prove it. this was your second pregnancy in three years, with your daughter happily sitting in her high chair. her father sitting by her, keeping her busy while you cooked.

one of his tattooed fingers pointed to the pictures in the children's book he had open for her. he was determined to make sure that she could read a little bit before she went off to school in another two years.

"see that's a cow, baby girl." he said, "like the ones we see when we go drivin'." he was very attentive for a man who had snuffed the life out of people with his bare hands.

but he'd never hard a hair on you, your daughter or your future son's heads. he could barely be rough with you during sex nowadays!

it was summertime once more, the heat of july rolled through the old house you called him. you had kept the dress that caused this marriage and family, but with the mama chub on your hips you weren't fitting into it again anytime soon.

but price didn't mind, a good mother like you shouldn't be showing off what is his anyway. <3

[a-mint-bear]

Your One and Only

Male Yandere x Reader

He begged you to make him yours, but when he feels his status as your one and only is threatened, he wants a reminder.

Sequel to "Make Me Yours"

Next Jacob story "Taking Care of Him"

[content warning: slightly pretty suggestive stuff near the end]

His name was Jacob.

It was a bit of a funny situation, learning his name only after he'd become your... boyfriend? Lover? You really didn't know what labels to use in this situation, or how any of this was "supposed" to work. But you were enjoying your time together, despite the... odd and intense way the relationship began.

Jacob wanted to move in with you pretty much right off the bat, but it was all a bit too much to jump right into. You would be lying if you said it wasn't tempting...

He really was a near-perfect fit for you.

He was super domestic. He loved cooking for you and all his dishes were amazing. He was a bit of a neat freak, so sometimes when you took your eyes off him, he tidied up your place without you asking. Not that you left it super messy, but he seemed like perfect househusband material.

In public, he was super assertive. He stood up for you and protected you from average jerks and actual threats when you were out together. He took charge and it made you feel oddly loved. Like you were the most important thing in his life.

In private, he was still that man on his knees in the park. He was dedicated, completely and utterly yours... He loved to wear that collar when the two of you were alone, although you had to beg him not to wear it out in public. The thought of it did give you a thrill, though you'd never admit it to him. But because of all that, he started wearing more thick turtleneck sweaters.

Well, for that, and for... other reasons. You were embarrassed of how much he liked to show off your... handiwork.

He was very clingy, and he got jealous really easily, but it wasn't really a dealbreaker for you. You liked the feeling it gave you of being wanted, appreciated, even loved. It made you a tiny bit uncomfortable sometimes due to how new the relationship was, Jacob was very intense with his feelings, but with every day together it got easier to appreciate the weird new relationship you were in.

He was attentive, he loved spoiling you and getting you little things when you were having a bad day. Or a good day. Even a completely neutral day. You actually had to tell him to tone it down a little, as much as you liked it, because your place was small and you didn't have a ton of extra space. His compromise was to start getting you food and snacks more often instead, and it worked out just perfectly.

When a bouquet of a dozen roses got delivered to your office, you got a good razzing from your coworkers but you ignored them. There was no note or card, but it wasn't a stretch to think it was from Jacob. He'd sent other things to your job before, like lunch when you planned to eat out someplace or your favorite coffee order when you had an early morning. It was nice of him, you thought to yourself with a dumb smile on your face.

When you got home, you sent him a quick text.

You watched the typing ellipses appear and disappear, then reappear only to blink out of existence and then, nothing.

He'd never dropped off like that before, but you didn't think much of it. It wasn't until he showed up to your place not even ten minutes later that you started to wonder if something was up.

You opened the door for him. It wasn't uncommon for him to come over pretty much every other day (after you'd talked him down from every day) so you were happy to see him. But he had a weird look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was up, you followed his line of sight to the bouquet in a vase on the kitchen windowsill.

You ask him what's wrong, and his eyes snapped back to yours, like he was jolted out of his thoughts.

"Nothing, I... I'm just happy that you... like them."

The smile seemed a tiny bit strained, but he was back to his usual puppy dog demeanor in no time. He was extra attentive, ordering your favorite takeout, but getting it delivered instead of running out to get it or letting you go get it. He clung to you all night, but it was nice, in a way.

You were rinsing the dishes real quick before you continued binging the series you'd been watching together lately. But when you were drying your hands, Jacob came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You laughed, asking him if he was feeling better, but he just pulled you in closer. You could feel his collar pressing into your neck. His breath was hot, tickling your neck as he mumbled his words of devotion against your skin.

"You're so... perfect." He nuzzled into your neck. "I'm so lucky you let me in... that you let me be yours. Just... I promise I'll be good... I just want to be yours. Please, don't... Don't look at anyone else."

This wasn't his usual lovesick talk. You turned in his grasp to hold his face in your hands. You smiled, telling him that he was yours. He melted, leaning into your touch like he needed it more than everything... Needed you more than anything.

"I'm yours... " he repeated it to himself like a mantra, like it was grounding him to that moment. He needed the reassurance that day, for some reason, but you didn't think much of it.

That same excitement, that overwhelming need to control him, to claim him... it was still just as intoxicating as the day he "proposed". You don't think you could ever get tired of it.

. . .

Jacob had stayed the night, and you'd fallen asleep in his arms. You don't know how long you'd been lying there together before you could just feel that you were half-awake, but too tired to even open your eyes. You just nuzzled into his chest as you tried to drift off again.

You could feel him gently working his fingers into your hair, it felt like heaven, and it got a happy little sigh out of you.

"I've wanted this for so long..." he whispered into the calm of your dark bedroom. He must've thought you were sound asleep. "If someone thinks they can take you away from me..."

He kissed the top of your head, lingering for a moment to breathe you in.

"...I'll rip their fucking throat out."

You felt... startled? Confused? But it all felt so fuzzy, like the edge of a dream you could barely hold on to. He said it so calmly, like it was just another sweet nothing whispered in your ear. A promise to you he would make sure to keep.

You slipped back into a dreamless sleep, unsure of what was real.

. . .

Jacob made the two of you breakfast, just like every time he stayed the night. But the whole time you ate he was unusually quiet, his gaze flicking over to the vase of roses on the kitchen windowsill.

You could tell this was getting to him, for some reason. Maybe it was best to just get rid of the bouquet and ask him what he was so worked up about.

When he was washing the dishes, you went to get up from your chair and grab them, wanting to at least put them in another room while the two of you had a talk. But you didn't get the chance.

His hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the flowers with a burning hate you'd never seen a man have for a plant. His grip got tighter until you hissed behind your teeth, trying to wrench your arm away.

He snapped out of whatever the hell that was, fussing over you.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to- I-I just..."

This was getting weird and more than a little... off. You told him it was getting late into the morning, didn't he need to get to work soon?

That sent him spiraling.

"No no no... please don't send me away..." he whispered. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he grabbed your shoulders.

"I'm sorry... I'm still your good boy! Please!" His eyes were wide, almost teary as fell to his knees at your feet, his hands in yours. "Please just... look at me! Only me! I can't..."

You asked him what he was talking about, trying to calm him down. It wasn't working.

"You thought those were from me..." He was practically shaking now, but he almost seemed... angry? You blanked for a second at his words, the meaning behind them not sticking long enough to upset him further. "I mean, roses? Really?? You think I don't know your favorite flower? That I'd give you that garbage?? No, no... I know you so much better than that."

It was true that there were flowers you liked more than roses, but you didn't hate them. But if Jacob didn't send you the flowers, who did?

"Someone wants you... they wanna take you away from me... I just got to be yours! I can't... I can't-"

With a shaky sigh, barely holding himself together, he laid his head on your legs.

"I can't lose you... Don't throw me away..."

Nudging your knees apart, he planted soft, tender kisses trailing up your inner thigh. The drastic swing of competing emotions left you more than a little flustered. A hand on top of his head, you were trying to decide whether to push him off to talk this through or tell him to keep going.

"They can't make you feel good, not like I can... I want to show you my love... my devotion..."

Without warning, you felt the dull, throbbing sting of a bite. You yelped, grabbing him by his hair and yanking him back. But all that did was wind him up more, a strangled, needy moan tearing from his throat. His face was a blushing mess, tongue out playfully like his mind was all but fading.

"Hurt me, p-punish me..." he grinned, looking straight into your eyes. "Make me forget everything else but you..."

You yanked him up by his collar and pushed him to the floor, straddling him. The ideas of wanting to fluster him and wanting to get back at him for his little stunt clashing away in your head. You chose good compromise of biting him back, marking up his shoulder as he gasped, letting out excited little "yes"s under his breath.

"Y-yes, fuck yes... mark me up..." He was practically panting now, he was so worked up you could swear you could hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours. He tried to sit up, to get closer. "Show everyone I belong to you..."

You shoved him back flat to the floor again, holding him in place with a hand pressed to his chest. The both of you knew he was strong enough to get free with no problem, but he knew that if he did, you'd stop. You kissed him just under his jawline, so tantalizingly close, you knew it was torture for him.

"Please please please..." he whined, sounding so wonderfully needy and desperate. "Kiss me. I'm your good boy. Make me need you so much I can't think straight."

You told him that he wasn't off the hook yet, and he couldn't help but feel so wanted, so loved. He really was yours, and you could do anything you wanted to him.

"Teach me I belong to you, sweetheart." he bit his lip, pushing his luck and grinding his hips up into you. "Fucking ruin me..."

. . .

Jacob clocked into work late that day, but he was more than happy to join his virtual meeting with a shirt cut lower than his usual turtlenecks, showing off his new marks to the coworkers. He pretended he didn't realize any of them were visible. He wanted them to see. What was the point of you marking him up if he couldn't show it off from time to time? Just enough to chase off anyone dumb enough to think about trying to flirt with him.

He still didn't know who'd sent you those goddamn roses, but he had calmed down, for now. He didn't want to do anything to make you hate him. Whoever it was, they were safe for another day.

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

i hope y'all like this one, i don't think i'll be bold enough to post anything more graphic than that anytime soon, lol

Jacob is his name, being your good boy is his favorite game 🩵

im in the (very slow) process of moving so my brain has been fried between packing, apartment hunting and a few days of video games until 3 am to help pass the time. i have one speed for hobbies lol

can you tell that my adhd meds are out of stock? now im writing to pass the time and it feels a lot more productive than Fallout 4 into the wee hours

i think i will post a poll soon so yous guys can vote for the next story i write. but my inbox is always open for suggestions too. tho you should see the notes in my phone, its like 11 different ideas lol

[hannieehaee]

Thinking about doting woozi awakened something in me hnnng something about a tsundere man being soft is so fucking cute like you just KNOW he'd be so awkward abt it at first but as soon as he knows that you like it and even WANT IT from him he'd be the softest man on earth

content: bf!woozi, established relationship, pure fluff, woozi is starving for affection and doesnt know how to react to it!!

wc: 610

a/n: i know this wasnt a request but i had to turn it into a little drabble bc im so obsessed with him and wanna take care of him so badly i just need to manifest that need into writing</3

masterlist

the first time you took care of jihoon was subtle. it barely went noticed by him at first, but when he realized, he couldn't help but recoil to himself. it was odd, really, to have someone care for you in subtle ways. it wasn't expected.

in reality, it had been quite simple. walking into his home studio, he almost missed it due to his organizational habits, but upon closer inspection it was obvious. you had cleaned up.

not only had you done the usual superficial upkeep that he was accustomed to doing, but you'd dusted! you'd moved every figurine, every bit of equipment, every movable object, basically, and dusted it before placing it right back where it belonged. the air smelled clean too, courtesy of your good taste in cleaning products.

the cleanliness gave him a newfound energy, especially due to knowing it had been your act.

next time he saw you, he was a bit embarrassed to thank you, but still managed a hug and a suspicious 'love you' murmured against your lips without any further explanation.

~

cleaning his home studio became a more common occurrence after a while. jihoon had at some point formally expressed his gratitude for it, but also added the lack of need for it. he felt badly having you clean for him, so he shyly stumbled his way into telling you that it was okay! he wouldn't want you to tire yourself with such a task!

this was met with a squeeze at his hip and a giggle as you let him know that you didn't mind. he was rarely at home while you worked from home, so cleaning just became a natural part of your day.

he accepted this with warmth in his stomach. it was nice that it didn't feel like a responsibility to you. you just did it because you wanted to help him. he liked being helped.

this came along with various other acts of service you'd do without question. acts which continued to make jihoon's heart flurry with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness.

the list was quite long, once he took a minute to really think about it.

you'd drop in with lunch for him and his bandmates every so often (which was quite a feat considering the number of friends he had), you'd brush his hair any time he let it grow a little more (claiming you just had that magic touch — which, granted, you did), suddenly he'd have socks on his feet when he woke up on a cold night, would find a brand newly knitted scarf on his way out the door in the morning, his kitchen would be stocked with his favorite coffee mix. there were too many tiny details to count.

jihoon always tried to return the favor, but would always feel like he lacked. no one in this world could compare to how doting you were, he'd decided.

worst of all was the viscerally embarrassing way in which he'd react at your acts of service.

he'd always known himself to be bad at receiving love, but he had thought that being with you would teach him a thing to do. the reality was, though, that the stuttering and the blush on his cheeks would just become a staple every time you so much as removed an eyelash from his cheek.

he sometimes wondered to himself, did you realize? how affection-starved he was? how much he truly appreciated your affections despite being the worst at verbalizing this gratefulness?

but the answer was found in the kiss pressed to his cheek any time he'd stutter his way through a 'thank you, i love you.'

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Adeuce + Onee-san!Yuu Headcanons

I THINK THEY’D BOTH BE INTO ONEE-SANS… cuz Ace is the bratty one that wants attention and Deuce is into being praised for his accomplishments 💀 Even worse if both of them are crushing on the same onee-san and butt heads every day about it.

Please note: due to the nature of the scenario, these headcanons could read as gendered (since “onee-san” means "big sister") even though I avoid the use of gendered pronouns for the reader/self insert in my writing and just generally allude to the concept of the "onee-san" trope (someone who is reliable, kind, and mature). Read at your own discretion.

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Ace is totally the type of guy that mercilessly teases the person he has a crush on, and that's really no different when it comes to you. He sees it like a challenge, to see how fast he can break you and get you cutely begging him to stop--but to his surprise, you hold your own and push back, scolding him for his attitude and lip. He blinks as you finish your lecture and turn to walk off, not registering the heat of his gaze following you.

The teasing continues regardless, of course. He doesn't let up on it, always coming up with some clever new excuse whenever you respond. With (fake) watery eyes, Ace will claim you're BULLYING your innocent little kouhai, don't you feel any shame or remorse? Oh, and he gets jealous if others tease you—because only he’s allowed to do that, got it?

He doesn't flinch at all when you scold him (In fact, he thinks it's kind of cute how you get all stern and pouty) Ace will taunt you and egg you on ("What're you gonna do, tell my mom?"). May or may not also include him cheekily sticking his tongue out at you.

The number one thing he makes fun of you about is your kindness. He often tells you that you're TOO nice, and that someday it may come back to bite you in the ass, or someone might try to take advantage of that kindness. "Luckily for you, I'm a nice guy too, so I wouldn't mess with you like that."

Ace is handsy. He'll casually lean on your shoulder or even rest his head on top of yours (if you're short enough for that kind of thing). It's fine between "just friends", right?

If you ignore him (or he feels like you're giving more attention to Grim or Deuce than to him), he gets all clingy, whining about how you next hang out anymore or why did you leave his text on read? Ace tries to invite you out as nonchalantly as he can (he doesn't want to come off as desperate).

"How about that burger place in town? What? Nooo, it's not a date, dummy! It’s just a joke. Unless…?" He typically phrases private outings with him as unserious, if only to keep a route of plausible deniability open for himself to escape with if you indicate you're not really into it.

Pesters you to come watch his basketball games. Constantly. When you do finally show up, he waves excitedly, winks, and tries to dedicate a shot to you in an attempt to look cool. (Unfortunately, the ball bounces off the rim and makes him look incredibly pathetic. Floyd gets a good laugh out of this.)

Every time Riddle collars him or punishes him with extra chores, Ace asks you to comfort him. He'll dramatically lean against you and lament how life has been SO unfair to him lately, so he'd for real appreciate a shoulder to cry on or maybe a lap to rest on right about now~

He pretends to not understand class material as an excuse to ask for "one-on-one" tutoring. Since you're sooo smart and kind, you'll definitely help him, won't you? As you're explaining how to solve this equation or the next, Ace is too busy staring at your profile to really pay attention. You ask if he gets it now, and it takes him a few seconds to snap back to reality and insist to you that he does, but juuust to make sure he gets it maybe you could explain it all again!

Whenever you pack a homemade lunch, Ace is the first to ask for a bite. Well, not ask but more like he announces he wants some before he steals a bite right off of your eating utensil. He'll then make some cheeky comment about how it's an indirect kiss. In return, he shares his own snacks (which suspiciously look like unbirthday party cakes he swiped from the fridge, but shhhh, don't tell Riddle!).

Every time Ace dresses up or buys some new article of clothing, he makes a show of wearing it. Like this guy will wear the luxury sunglasses Vil gifted him for his birthday INDOORS or on the back of his head hoping it'll bait you into noticing and then complimenting him.

Ace claims that you're "soooo obsessed with [him'" since you're always "chasing [him] like a lovesick puppy" and "looking for excuses to talk with [him]". In reality, you follow him around and talk with him to nag him and keep him in line, but Ace frames it a certain way because he's delusional to mess with you. "Geez, if you want me that badly, then just say so~"

You try your best to keep him out of trouble, but there are instances in which you end up roped into his shenanigans and both of you are punished for it. Detention isn't exactly a very romantic spot to be in, but Ace makes use of every moment of it to hog you for himself. "Hey, don't make that long face. It's not so bad—least you've got me here to keep you company."

He sometimes brings up his ex to complain about how needy she was (the irony of Ace saying that is not lost on you) and implicitly brag about how he has sooo much experience with dating. He'll then bring the attention to you. "I don't get it, what was she looking for in a guy? She said I was way too immature for her. How about you, Prefect? Do you get it? Immature guys... do you like that kind of thing?" Ace thinks he's slick but he ain't--

Unlike Ace, Deuce does his best to try and not cause trouble for you to clean up after. He also joins you in telling Ace off, to which Ace will call him a "goody two shoes" and accuse him of "sucking up to Prefect". Deuce adamantly denies it, but his frenemy's words still fluster him.

Deuce is very polite to you and even greets you with a bow. He sees you as someone deserving of respect because of how responsible you are—you're modelling the very thing he aspires to be someday! Your encouraging presence fills him with a drive and determination to be better.

Having someone like you around makes Deuce try really, really hard to demonstrate how mature he can be. He pulls off these herculean feats (like forcing himself to eat bell peppers without gagging or solving a basic arithmetic problem correctly in under 5 minutes). It’s all worth it when he sees that proud smile blooming on your face and hears the cheery “Good job!!” from you.

Deuce usually keeps a respectable distance (to keep things professional between peers!). However, he completely freezes up if any scenarios arise where you touch him—be it an accidental brush of your shoulder and his while you're walking to class together or you plucking a fallen leaf or petal out of his air. His face turns about as red as his dorm leader's and he hurriedly runs way ahead of you to cool off.

The worst of it is when you adjust your clothes for him (it puts you in very close proximity) or when you pat him on the head and shower him with praise. Deuce doesn't know how to react to receiving such earnest compliments, he just melts like putty in your hands, happily basking in the moment.

In spite of all of his efforts, his grades don't see much of an improvement. Seeing his frustration, you offer to tutor him, which Deuce graciously accepts. It doesn't occur to him until he's actually in that tutoring session that this is a private time for the two of you, and suddenly he's struggling to focus because wow, you're so close and your hand is centimeters away from his. Instead of thinking about math, he's thinking about what it would feel like to reach out and hold you. Stupid, stupid! he scolds himself. D-Don't think about weird things like that!

Deuce doesn't have a lot of pocket money, but he offers to share his food with you anyway. (He knows you're carefully budgeting your monthly allowance from the headmaster, so you can't afford to spend much on treats.) He'll break off half of his chocolate bar or dessert bread, but drinks are harder to share. His face burns at the suggestion of sharing a straw—isn't that technically an indirect kiss?—but he tries to pretend like he's not nervous (even as his hand trembles terribly as he accepts the juice carton from you to take a sip of his own).

There are times when you find him a little bruised and beat up, whether it’s the result of a brawl or an intense workout. Deuce will insist that he’s fine, but that doesn’t stop you from personally tending to him. He’s dead quiet as he watches you disinfect and bandage his injuries, heat climbing to his cheeks. When you ask if it hurts anymore, he softly replies “… No.” Not when you’re here with me.

Deuce frequently tells his mom about you when they speak over the phone. He says that you’re an amazing person with a big heart, rambling on and on about how you care about everyone and always support them. His mom listens for a while before laughing and telling Deuce he’s definitely got a crush and that she’d love to meet this person that has stolen her son’s heart. Of course, he gets embarrassed and claims she’s wrong, he just really admires you, that’s all!! (But a mother knows best…)

Deuce is easily flustered whenever you call him “cute”. He tends to keep his mouth shut and let you gush as you please, but one day he manages to find his voice and protests. "P-Please don't tease me like that, Prefect..." Deuce mutters, his gaze cutting to the ground. “I… I want you to see me as a man.” Someone you can rely on.

Deuce tells you that if you’re ever in need of help—or if people are giving you trouble—then all you have to do is call him. He’ll come running to your side, lend a hand, fend off the bullies, whatever you need. He knows he can depend on you, so he should also be the type of person you can depend on.

It’s hard for him to get a grip on his delinquent side if he feels like you’re in danger. That mixture of concern, protectiveness, and upset drives him wild—he doesn’t even realize he has relapsed until he has rushed over to check on you and notices the alarm set in your eyes. I’ve gone and done it again, he panics. They’re disappointed in me.

… But you embrace Deuce warmly, thanking him, peppering him with reassurances, inspecting him for any signs of harm. He’s flooded with relief, allowing himself to sink into your arms and breathe in your comforting smell.

Deuce appreciates it when you make time to go to his Track and Field Club meets and cheer him on. He sprints like the wind to see you at the finish line. You’re smiling, with a water bottle, a wet towel, and a snack in hand to reward him for his hard work. Deuce’s clubmates snicker and tease him about it, but he doesn’t let that get to him—he’s too busy riding the adrenaline high that is you.

He’s not shameless unlike Ace, who pretty much automatically clocks his feelings. Deuce struggles a lot with coming to terms with how he feels about you, wondering if he’s “good enough” to be near you, to like you in the capacity that he does, to push these emotions onto you. He kicks himself, calling it spineless and cowardly to not gather his courage and just blurt it out already—but he’s scared of breaching your friendship. “Hey, Is this okay…?” Is it okay for me to like you like this?

[erenstitanweave]

❥HOW WE LOVE II

pairing: various x reader (jayce, mel, silco)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so...perchance this may be a series? please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

JAYCE

giving:

jayce is definitely a touchy man, send tweet.

but no honestly i can see him actively trying to make sure you are NOT in his vicinity when he has things to or else they would never get done

not that's it's inherently a problem in his eyes, but he just loves you too much to ignore his urges to just be cuddled up to you over a project that can be done another day

before the events of the first season, he often delayed projects because majority of them would end with you on his workbench, gently running your fingers through his hair

words of affirmation are definitely something he loves to give to his significant other, especially if they're needed

he adores outpouring his love to his significant other with his words since he's often busy with anything revolving Hextech to be by your side more often

i feel like he'd often write small notes and letters for you, all with reminders of how much he loves you and how much you impact his life

receiving:

i feel like jayce is a sucker for acts of service and words of affirmation

he's an inventor at heart, so just hearing his significant other speak of him or his inventions so highly just makes him fall more and more in love

he loves it when you tell him how much you love him more than anything though, any compliment he's gotten about himself or his inventions from anyone else will never live up to the way you speak about him

i feel like in terms of acts of service, jayce doesn't want anything too over the top

just bringing him lunch and tea/coffee when he hasn't had the chance to get it himself or laying a blanket over him when he falls asleep at his workbench is more than enough to make his heart beat faster

i could see him actually faking being asleep at his workbench just to listen to what you say to him when he's asleep (more than likely this is how he found out you had feelings for him and he almost cut the act right then and there)

MEL

giving:

mel is probably the biggest gift giver ever, especially on an extravagant scale.

i feel like how much or how often the gifts cost/come are dependent on whether or not you like receiving many expensive gifts or a few sentimental ones

nonetheless though, she makes it a point to at least give you something if her time is being occupied by the entirety of Piltover

i feel like she would give acts of service but like, on a larger scale

she'd have a set few Enforcers that she trusts with her life help you whenever she couldn't have it done herself, making sure they do it immediately or if not immediately, as soon as possible

her love for pda also depends on if you're touchy in public or not, but she adores private intimacy with you

she'd have both of you in the finest fabrics imaginable, just together and holding each other either in public or in private, but in private, it's different

she's just mel around you, not mel medarda, not a part of Piltover's highest in power, just herself.

she cherishes the fact that you see her for herself, even after everything, you still stay by her side and that's something she'll forever be grateful for.

receiving:

words of affirmation. that's the tweet.

but on a more serious note, i genuinely think because of mel's relationship with ambessa has caused her to subconsciously or not second guess everything she's being told as truth unless she really trusts the person

she adores when she's told any hint of words of affirmation from her significant other, it just gives her a feeling like no other

mel's a sucker for physical touch in my eyes, especially pda.

i feel like she'd love someone who can barely keep their hands off of her, she knows how beautiful she is, but it's different hearing and being shown it from someone you love deeply

her favorite places for you to touch/hold are her hips and the small of her back, the latter she found out by absolute coincidence when she wore a backless dress around you for the first time and your hands couldn't get off of her

i think quality time is probably the hugest one for her, considering how much power she holds in Piltover, she doesn't get a lot of time with just the two of you

she makes sure to treasure it the best she can, whether that be through extravagant experiences or just relaxing in the other's presence for as long as possible

SILCO

giving:

silco is definitely a gift giving man, but not ordinary gifts like you'd expect.

in the beginning of your relationship, when he first began trusting you, he'd have his "accomplices" from Piltover find the best clothing and jewelry for you

but gradually, the gifts turned to a different direction as silco's love for you flourished.

the gifts took a more sentimental turn, things that both reminded him of his past with vander and things that he'd think you'd like.

as much as his past felt like a painful reminder to him, the gifts he gave you were related to fond memories he had. vintage drink glasses, records of his favorite songs, etc.

i also think silco would be willing to give physical touch if you asked, (he doesn't do anything unless you ask, i think he'd like hearing you ask him for things) but he rarely initiates on his own.

if he had a touchy significant other, i think he'd be relatively okay with it ONLY and ONLY if it's in private.

does not engage in pda at ALL. the most i think he'd do is have you either on his lap or right by his side, just to make sure you were safe.

receiving:

this man might be the king of loving acts of service, like genuinely.

sure, he has everyone doing favors for him, jinx and sevika being the main ones due to his trust in them, but with you? he asks everything but nothing at all.

he will never directly ask you to do things for him, no, he'd much rather show you his appreciation whenever you do.

he'd much rather keep you away from the side of him that (almost) everyone else gets, but that doesn't stop you from still doing things for him, and he definitely notices immediately.

he clocks anything out of place when it comes to you, especially when something gets done and he didn't ask for it. i.e:, cleaning his office, helping him inject his eye, etc.

i feel like he also yearns for quality time but on the very VERY down low.

being the man he is, he no doubt knew his demise was inevitable, especially due to all he's done. being with you made him feel normal, like before he turned into what he deems as unworthy of you

he often finds himself listening to music with you, music that makes him often reminisce about his past, trusting you with the immense vulnerability that comes from those memories

he often brings you down into the bar alone in the dead of night, sitting at the bar with you as both of you silently sipped on drinks, just relishing in each other's presence

in moments like those, he truly feels..normal. he feels like he's worthy of your love and devotion to him, the sheer intimacy of him being vulnerable more than enough confirmation of his love for you

[goldenstring6123]

Zayne's thoughts: getting involved in gossip

Author's notes: Zayne's the type of guy to shut down rumors pretty quickly when you're involved.

Zayne instinctively steers away from negative gossip. Even as a prodigy, he was never once subjected to derogatory peer criticism.

He doesn't like being in the negative light as well. And as much as he understands the social culture of gossip, he doesn't care much for it—instead, gossip always comes to him through the nurses or other doctors, mainly from Yvonne or Dr. Grayson.

Shortly after establishing your relationship, some things obviously began to change.

Zayne's mannerisms at work remain the same, but he glances at his phone more often.

Other people had grown interested in the fact that they could see him smiling while looking at his phone. They'd also hear a quick and weak "Ding" from his device, which was new, considering he usually has his phone on vibrate mode.

His skipped lunches have also been reduced significantly; he occasionally is spotted in the hospital cafeteria, buying himself a light lunch or a healthy meal. He doesn't really sit with other workers, though. Turns out, he'd much rather eat alone in his office, and while he's at it, he likes to chat with you, knowing how little free time he has between work shifts.

Dr. Grayson, in particular, was very intrigued by the sudden change in his demeanor, knowing Zayne was one of the few people who was very, very disciplined. Zayne's change in habits didn't negatively impact the work environment. Still, being the curious fool that he (Dr. Grayson) is, whenever the opportunity arises, he'll sneak a glance at Zayne fiddling with his phone and chatting with that particular person.

It took no less than three days for gossip to spread. People began talking about who this particular person is: a small portion of the rumors say it's that other female prodigy doctor who started working recently, but most of the rumors say it was you because, according to Yvonne:

Childhood friends simply don't platonically hold hands and kiss each other on the cheek and the lips in the middle of the parking lot. and;

Zayne has no personal connection to a girl other than you.

Needless to say, you were also subject to the rumors, Which is why the nurses always sneak a glance your way whenever they come across you, yet none dare talk to you about the rumors.

It didn't take long to reach the chief surgeon's ears, and he did not need to lift a finger to know who was behind the rumor.

Zayne gave his poor colleague, Dr. Grayson, a piece of his mind.

"I don't appreciate my affairs being talked about. If you have anything you're curious about, you can ask me directly, Dr. Grayson." And although it was for a very brief conversation, Grayson swears he could feel the room literally going cold.

In less than a week, people have stopped talking and diverted their attention elsewhere— out of the safety of their lives...or the safety of Dr. Grayson.

Author footnotes: If anyone has come close to feeling zayne's wrath, its not you— it's Dr. Grayson. Also, I'm not liking this layout, I might change it soon

Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune

[starlightsearches]

Yes, absolutely! So. Eddie x FemReader. They are best friends and have this special bond but all of a sudden Eddie pushes her aside for another girl he's dating or is interested in, letting her sit in the reader's seat, canceling traditions of years like movie night, etc. But somehow he wakes up and realizes he has been an ass to her (maybe because he actually wanted to get over his own feelings for her) but the reader isn't so quick to let it all go - she wants him to prove how sorry he is!

Jealousy, Jealousy

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are open!

thanks for the request, bestie! and an even bigger thanks for your patience 😬 i hope you enjoy!

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Comments likes and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think 💖

Warnings: mostly just language and a little drama and angst and then fluff I think but let me know if I missed anything. I've always wanted to play around with POV switches like this, which is probably why it's taken me so long to finish this one 🙄

You're fuming in the front seat.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the road—more than he probably ever has while driving—afraid that if he even glances in your direction all the smoke you're letting off will start to fog up the windshield. Like he's driving around with a forest fire in his van.

"Listen," he says, even though he's not sure what's going to come after, "it's not even a big deal."

They're the first words out of his mouth since he told you, and they're definitely the wrong ones. Your eyes flash, smoldering at the center like cigarette ends.

Your look may be fire, but your voice is all ice.

"To you."

"What?"

"It's not that big of a deal to you, Eddie," you tell him, shifting against the dirty leather seat like you can't even stand to be near him, "but it is a big deal to me."

Valerie fucking Reed—just thinking her name has you seeing blood. Everything about her puts the wrath of god in you, from the fake-ass pitch of her voice to the way she flips her hair over her shoulder whenever she thinks she's said something clever.

You'd hated her from the moment you'd met her, after the painfully cliche the freaks sit over there cafeteria routine she'd put on for you your very first day in Hawkins. You were more prepared for that shit now—had educated yourself in the art of biting comebacks and fought only with words even when you wanted nothing more than to bash her head into the linoleum tile.

But at a brand new school when you were desperate to make friends? Absolutely devastating.

If you were held at gunpoint and forced to say one honest, nice thing about her, there'd only be one you could offer up: it was her fault you'd met Eddie. With tears still stinging in your eyes, you'd carried your lunch tray in the direction of her pointed finger, falling into the nearest empty chair and tucking your chin into your chest so no one would see you cry.

That was when Eddie swooped in, big doe eyes and denim vest rattling with pins, and a thousand stupid jokes—not exactly a knight in shining armor but you'd never wanted one of those anyway.

Now Valerie wants to take him away from you, too.

Eddie drums his hands on the wheel, fidgeting with the volume on the tape he'd let you choose to soften the blow. He let's Fleetwood Mac fill the empty space between you, all the words he should say replaced with Stevie's soft vocals.

He's not used to fighting with you. Your friendship has always been as easy as breathing—except when it's not.

. . . But you really can't be blamed for that. It's not your fault he feels all weird inside every time you smile.

He wishes you'd smile at him now.

"You know," you say, feet planted on his dash and your chair pushed all the way back, "I didn't say shit when you started ditching me at lunch to deal to her and her friends, or when you skipped on movie nights for all those parties she threw because I get why you had to go, but a fucking date?"

"She just needs a place to smoke . . ." Eddie mumbles, skin hot at the word date.

You roll your eyes with enough bite he actually feels the sting.

"Right. She just needs to get high with you at your place, because she has nowhere else to go.”

Your lips drip with venomous sarcasm—absolutely soaked through with the belief that he couldn't possibly sit in the same room as Valerie and not touch her.

Do you really have so little faith in him? Eddie's got way more self-control than either of you would give him credit for. There's never been a moment he hasn't wanted his hands on you, and he's alone with you all the time.

“Come on,” he says, swallowing so his voice won't crack, “we do that.”

“It’s different," you snap back quickly.

Yeah it fucking is, he thinks, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Maybe the silence will speak for itself—or maybe it could, if you'd let it.

You carve a frustrated hand through your hair, staring him down. “Like, how do you think it would feel for you if I went out with fucking Jason Carver?"

He resists the urge to gag. "It's not like that."

It's really not like that. Just the thought of it has Eddie feeling both sick and violent, unsure if he was more likely to throw a punch or throw up.

He takes the turn into your driveway, watching you collect your stuff with a brutal speed.

"Yes it is, Eddie," you tell him as you slide from your seat before he's even fully hit the breaks, "actually, it's worse. Because Jason is a dick to everybody, and Valerie's got some fucking target on my back. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all part of some evil plan of hers to make me jealous because—"

You cut yourself off immediately, words stoppered by some invisible dam, eyes wide. Eddie's body goes cold when you slam the door without saying goodbye, stomping off to your doorstep.

He scrambles for his seat belt, practically falling out of the van in attempt to catch up to you before you get inside.

"Wait a second," Eddie says, holding the door open with his hand and trying to catch his breath, "why would that make you jealous?"

You scuff the toe of your boot against the step. "Nothing, it's stupid."

Eddie raises a brow, but you can’t look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now, tracing down along his leather sleeve to where his hand is planted against the door, black-painted nails splayed wide and already chipping, although you only did them a few nights ago.

Rude that the only time you get to hold him is when you're doing him a favor.

"Stupid how?" he asks.

You shrug. "I dunno . . . she just thinks I have a crush on you or something."

It's a surprise he hadn't already heard; about half of the girl's locker room were still stripping out of their gym clothes when Valerie had to bring everybody's attention to your black lace bra, before sharing a few theories on who you were wearing it for.

"Like I said, stupid." You ignore the heat in your cheeks, gripping the door again and trying to force it shut, but Eddie's not finished.

You wouldn’t notice, but his chest is heaving under his black t-shirt, palm sweating against the door. A crush? On him?

Is Valerie as delusional as he is?

"Wait," —his mouth is on a roll before his brain has caught up— "do- do you?"

Your eyes go wide with surprise, and then shrink into slits as you push him back from the door, one hot hand planted against his chest.

"Fuck you, Eddie," —he catches the words just before the slam— "fuck you for real."

It wasn't a no.

He repeats the words in his mind like he’s casting a protection spell. Like it’s some kind of ward against your anger as he scales the tree outside your window.

It’s harder than it looks, and he’s already making it look pretty difficult—but one hand’s busy clinging to the greasy paper bag packed full with burgers and those crispy tater tots you love. He manages to wiggle his way up to your window sill without losing his pants, even though the tears at his knees got caught on every twig and branch he passed.

Eddie steals a glance of you through the sheer curtains, holding back his fist from knocking. Just so he can look at you properly, without all the static of having you look back.

You're stretched out on your bed, feet in the air and headphones caught over your ears while you flip through the pages of a book. He hasn't seen these pajamas before—the little shorts that just cup the edge of your ass, and a sheer tank top. His nails are leaving little indents in his palm.

Eddie hasn't made a sound, but with the way his eyes are tracing over you, you gotta feel it. You find him at the window, and he panics, rapping his knuckles against the glass a second too late.

You roll you eyes at him, but at least you let him in.

There are honest-to-god butterflies in Eddie's stomach when he flops beside you on the bed. And he wouldn't lie—at least not to himself—but he'd tried to feel something like this before, when Valerie first started paying all that attention to him.

Her manicured hand would brush over the sleeve of his jacket while he'd be getting her product and he'd wait for this same feeling, hoping he had a weakness for all pretty girls, that any attention would him stumbling over his words and these feelings didn't have to be the end of the best friendship he'd ever had.

But it's you.

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie's smile is sheepish, but not nearly apologetic enough for your taste. He holds up the paper bag in his hand, dotted with dark splotches where the grease leaked through. It lets out the heavenly scent of fried food.

"I brought dinner, you know, for movie night."

He slips a tray of tater tots from the bag, and you're resolve falters. You hold back your hand from reaching for one even though you already know how incredible it would taste, the little rivulets of salt and shining grease coating the golden skin.

"What about Valerie?" you ask, stealing your eyes away from the junk food. You hate how petulant your voice sounds.

He just shrugs, pouring out some ketchup onto the tray, licking the excess off of his pinky finger. "Told her I had other plans."

Eddie pops a tater tot into his mouth and bites down with a heavy crunch, but it feels like your heart's the thing being popped between his teeth.

And what more were you expecting? That he'd tell her to fuck off and take her money and friends with her? She's the queen of Hawkins, and you're . . . not.

Maybe you and Eddie are both delusional—or stubborn—enough to pretend like you don't care about the politics of high school, but people had abandoned their morals for less.

“So you blew both of us off, then?”

He pauses mid-bite, like a prey animal, like if he doesn’t move you can’t be mad at him.

“What?” he mumbles through a mouthful of chewed-up potatoes.

You snatch a tater tot from the tray, chewing and swallowing even though your stomach is starting to churn because something bad is going to happen and you can feel it coming like a storm in the air.

“Why are you here, Eddie?”

“I- uh, to say sorry,” he stutters.

The food's getting cold in his hands before you respond.

“What’re you sorry for?”

What’s he sorry for? Eddie has a whole list: sorry for making a fool of myself, sorry for hanging out with Valerie because I thought it might make you jealous, sorry sorry sorry for trying so hard to get over you and doing such a bad job at it.

“I, you know . . . I shouldn’t have made other plans on movie night.”

Those were the wrong words again. Crazy how easy it is for him to fuck this up—like it was something he was born with.

For a second, Eddie thinks you'll yell at him, and he's comforted by that. If you yell at him, you still care.

You take in a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself. He can take whatever you give him, will shoulder any insults you hurl and forgive you for it the second it's over.

But your shoulders slump. You let out a heavy sigh.

And he knows he can't take that.

"I'm really, really tired, Eddie," —you won't even look him in the eyes when you say it, sliding the window open again,—"see you tomorrow?"

But Eddie doesn't see you for two whole days.

That's a fucking record.

He thought you might need space, you know. So he gave you Saturday to cool off, kicked around at the trailer and gave Wayne vague answers about why you weren't around and ignoring the look in the old man's eyes. Listening to sad records and getting high and trying not to stare at your smile in all the photos plastered on his wall.

Sunday, Eddie drove by your house with the volume all the way up on your favorite Rolling Stones album, windows down while he idled at the curb. There was a twitch in the curtains, but you weren't there to shout at him for all the noise before climbing in on the passenger side.

Eddie knocked at your door this morning, hoping at least you’d want a ride to school. Your mom opened it with a sad little frown, telling him you’d already taken your bike.

And really, the two days have only ended on a technicality. Eddie sees you right now, reading a book with your head bent low, sitting at the far end of another table.

"Hey—" Eddie twitches when the flying french fry lands against his cheek with a wet slap— "are you gonna go talk to her, or did you just wanna stare?"

Mike laughs at his own joke, and the other guys giggles along.

Eddie's used to the ribbing. He's never minded it—when you're not around. Kind of enjoyed it a little. Even with his heated cheeks and stammered shut ups that completely gave him away, he needed somebody to acknowledge what he was feeling. It made it more real.

But Eddie's not in the mood for jokes today. And he doesn't need anybody to remind him that he's in way over his head with you.

He shoots the freshmen a look that works just as well as throwing a hand over their mouths—without the risk of being licked—and brushes the potato chunks from his hair while the rest of Hellfire pick timidly at their lunches.

And Eddie goes back to staring.

This time, though, you're staring back.

He meets your eyes. Just for a second, wide with surprise before you snap your head back in the direction of your book, tucking your nose between the pages. Doesn't matter how quick you were though. Eddie caught the look you were giving him.

And his heart is beating hard, like it did on the day he first met you. His limbs all staticky and weird, palms sweating because even from the first second he knew you existed he's wondered what kissing you would feel like and the question never left his head.

Eddie's on his feet before he can think about how bad of an idea this is.

"Hey," Dustin calls to him through a mouthful of square pizza, "what're you doing?"

Eddie just shrugs.

"Probably something stupid."

You can see Eddie's long legs moving in your direction from the corner of your eye, and your stomach drops out of your ass like a dip on a roller coaster in the dark and you can't see the end. He says something to the guys—his lips are moving—but you can't make it out over the sound of the cafeteria rumble, the chatter of the other girls sitting at the same table as you, talking animatedly about all the dates they went on over the weekend and completely ignoring your presence.

You dip your head closer to the pages of your book, so close all the words blur together, trying to hide from Eddie like you've been hiding the past few days. You shouldn't have even glanced in his direction, should have let the burn of his presence so close and still too far away swallow you up.

It’s getting hotter with every step he takes toward you, and you’re getting smaller, body tight and your lips caught between your teeth.

He slides quietly into the seat beside you, fingers drumming against the table, and the sound feels louder now that the girls have quieted down, not-so-sneakily listening in on whatever's about to go down between you and Eddie—hungry like sharks for any new gossip, ready to spread the nitty-gritty about why the freaks are fighting.

Eddie dips his head down, eyes big and already so sorry it feels like a punch to the gut.

"Hey," he whispers, trying to smile and failing miserably, "come here often?"

You try to smile back, but it's not much better. "Hey, Eds."

It's quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet you're used to around Eddie. It's a hot and sweaty quiet, a trapped-in-a-car kind of summer burn that makes your lungs go shallow.

Eddie perks up, the first words he can think of spilling out of his mouth.

"The guys were thinking about going to the record store after school. Would you wanna come?"

You wouldn't have thought for a second about refusing an invite like that a week ago. Heaven was nothing compared to wandering around a music store with Eddie.

"I don't know if I can today," you say instead, and then when you see the look of hurt on his face, you soften the blow with, "I gotta go to the library for some . . . stuff."

He hums. "Stuff?"

You shrug, playing with the pages of your book. If you're quiet enough, maybe he'll give up.

But he doesn't go anywhere. His hands stay planted on the table, silent and still for once. The black nail polish is almost completely chipped off his nails—probably picked off and littered all over the linoleum.

Eddie's voice is a whisper when he breaks the silence. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Eds?"

"Why you're so mad at me . . ."

You've seen Eddie through a lot of shit, but you've never seen a look like this on him—eyes like saucers and brimming with shiny tears.

And you thought being in love with him was rough, but hurting him is a thousand times worse.

"I'm not mad at you, Eddie," you admit, hiding your eyes in the palms of your hands and pressing down until you see stars, "it's just . . ."

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Valerie's calling Eddie's name from across the whole fucking cafeteria. You watch her waving, standing on her tip-toes like she's not the only place in the room anybody can look, like every facet of her doesn't already scream give me attention!

Eddie sandwiches his lips together, pressing until they turn white. You're not going to like whatever he has to say next.

So you slip the dagger from his fingers, standing from the table. He can't hurt you if you hurt yourself first on his behalf.

"Actually, we can talk about this later," you tell him, slipping your bag on over your shoulder.

"Hey—"

There's sparks in your hand where he holds you, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It's just your hand in his, but that's all it takes for you to forget yourself, eyes caught on his soft mouth and pink tongue.

Valerie's approaching. You can see her stalking toward you over Eddie's shoulder. There's no room for vulnerability within a mile radius of her. You've got to get away before she sees all the softest parts of you exposed and decides to go for the jugular.

The door's within reach when the room goes quiet. Quiet enough Eddie doesn't even have to raise his voice when he says your name.

He's no stranger to standing on tables, but it's the first time you've seen him look so awkward, hands swinging at his sides in tight fists.

"I- I think I might be in love with you," Eddie says, "and I'm really, really sorry."

There's a chorus of ooooooooooohs from the audience, and maybe a few confused whispers from all the people who passively assumed you were already dating. Then all eyes are on you, waiting.

It's too fucking hot in this room, and your vision's starting to blur at the edges, feeling like you're on a stage and you can't remember the next line after Eddie's verbal punch to your gut.

You mumble a sound, falling backwards through the door and into the safety of the hallway.

Eddie's down off the table as soon as you disappear from the cafeteria, totally ignorant to the laughter and the jeers from all the dickheads watching.

Valerie's in his line of sight when he hits the ground.

"That was weird," she says, and Eddie can't tell if she's purposefully getting in his way, or if she's just got that aura of somebody who could tackle you to the ground but would never bother because she doesn't have to. "I mean I always knew she was a freak but—"

"Fuck off."

Eddie really would like to get into it more with her, maybe mention that he's been up-charging Valerie every time she mentioned your name, or that half the stuff he's been selling her was mixed with ten-year old spices from the cupboard above the oven.

There's more noise, but nobody else trying to get in his way, the path clear all the way to the door.

It's quiet in the hallway, and that alone leaves Eddie disoriented, swinging his head wildly, unsure which way you went.

"I'm down here."

You're on the floor a few feet away, head rested back against one of the lockers, and all of the bad shit goes away. It's that simple—like a light-switch—Eddie's panicked, and then he's not.

You're looking up at him with a soft kind of smile, despite the tight look in your eyes and sheen over your skin.

He slides down to the floor, long legs stretched out into the empty hall, shoes leaving little scuff marks across the linoleum.

"I'm sorry,"—you tell him as soon as he hits the ground, "about, you know. It was just, um, a lot."

"Don't be," he laughs, "that wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had."

The smartest idea he ever had was talking to you that first day, snatching you up before anybody else could.

Your tongue snakes out from between your lips, and Eddie has to physically hold himself back from tasting you. Your eyes dropped to his lap, your voice is small when you ask, "did you mean it?"

"Yeah, honey,"—probably should've kept the nickname to himself— "meant every word."

He's about to mumble something like, but if you don't feel the same it's totally fine, even though it definitely wouldn't be, when your head drops onto his shoulder.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know . . . just felt like a personal problem."

You laugh, and the sound shakes through him.

"I dunno, Eds. You being in love with me kinda sounds like something that I'd wanna know."

"I'll keep that in mind, for next time," he whispers. You're looking up at him with those big, soft eyes, breath pillowing against his face.

"It's the same for me," you tell him, "in case you were wondering."

In all the time Eddie's thought about kissing you, he never imagined it happening like this—on the floor with somebody's combination lock digging into his back. With your hands in his hair and the dull roar of the lunchroom somewhere nearby and his thumb tracing along your jaw and you smiling against his lips.

He was definitely missing out.

There's the metal clank of the door, and a chorus of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Eddie recognizes Dustin's voice.

"Oh my god, dude. Fucking finally."

[forgeofthenine]

The bachelors are bachelors no longer! How would they grow old with you? Secondarily, how would they respond to being grandparents?

Ironically I wrote this while staying at my Nans house. I'll be here for the holidays so the next few posts will also be written here, I just thought this was particularly thematic. Halsin was also a perfect fit for this prompt too, so I hope you don't mind me adding him in :)

How would the bachelors (+Halsin) grow old with you and respond to your growing family

Dammon

This blacksmith was sure he'd live the bachelor life for the rest of his days

Who'd want to marry a man so obsessed with his forge that he's basically personified it?

Apparently, he's found the one person out there that can appreciate all his quirks

As the two of you grow older I actually see him stepping back from his forge more

He's already taught your children how to handle the family blacksmithing business, giving over the running of it to your eldest daughter and son-in-law with one of your younger sons happily working there too

As much as it saddens him the aches and creaks in his joints make the work too hard on his aging body, and his hands aren't steady enough for the delicate detail work he used to do

You can't keep him out of the forge completely though, and he still visits regularly and helps with drawing the designs of new projects and commissions

When he isn't hovering over your children's work, he's with you and the grandkids

Dammon settled into a domestic life surprisingly well, and he's a very doting grandfather

He's the type to insist you buy extra treats because he knows a specific grandchild likes it and will be coming over to visit

He always volunteers you two for babysitting as well, the spare rooms in your house that were once your children's now belong to their kids

It's a life Dammon is content with, a large family surrounding him and you by his side, he really couldn't ask for more when he never expected to get this much

Zevlor

Zevlor is built to be a granddad, I'm saying it now

He loves you, his kids, and his grandkids more than anything

As an even older gentleman he's actually still very active

The type of old man to insist on going on long strolls after meals, and he quite happily runs your little hobby farm with the help of your kids

You have a smaller, close knit family

With children living just down the road, while your kids work or take care of the home you and Zevlor happily take the grandkids for entire days

He shows them the same things he showed his kids, things like how to tie shoelaces, to ride a horse, and to wield a sword

You'll see them all trudging back in for lunch, covered with dirt and grinning as they try and hide from you

Even in his older age he's very patient, happily listening to his grandbabies babbling as he feeds them

Speaking of food, Zevlor would want his main meal of the day to be at midday

Once he gets older he doesn't like the feeling of sleeping so soon after a big meal

He does start to take naps, however, and sometimes you'll see him passed out on a comfy chair with a grandchild sleeping on top of him

If no grandchildren are around he'll likely drag you into napping with him too, there's something special about napping with someone else

Zevlor lives a very charming life at the end of the day, and he couldn't be happier about it

Rolan

Rolan is the grumpiest old coot on the block

Absolutely the type to yell at kids to get off his lawn, if he actually had a lawn

Alas, he only has a tower and instead he teaches your only child the art of mastering the weave

As he grows older he somehow seems to grow grumpier and even more introverted

Without you there to drag him out of Ramaziths Tower people likely would've assumed him dead years ago

The only people that see his softer side are you, your child, and your grandchildren

And your grandchildren love coming to the tower, wanting to look at all the pretty things and see their granddad do magic

You know the magic shows that Rolan did for his siblings? He does them for his child and grandchildren too

Speaking of Cal and Lia, he's a doting uncle for their kids and grandkids

It ends up with all three of your families meeting up at the tower for all gatherings and holidays, despite Rolans prickly attitude

It's absolute chaos, and the wizard secretly loves watching everyone joking and having a good time

On a random note, he absolutely teaches your grandkids how to read and do arithmetic at a young age

He insists on reading them bedtime stories whenever possible too, and they love it because he does the voices

Rolan is the one that thought he'd be least likely to be a family man, but it turns out he fits that role quite well

Halsin

You and Halsin run an entire orphanage together, you end up with absolutely loads of kids

Only a handful are your biological kids and you also end up with a full-grown owl bear, but you love them all the same

Halsin is very long lived, even for an elf, and if you're equally long lived then you'll end up keeping the orphage going for literal hundreds of years

Over that time the two of you might see three or four generations of humans grow up, your former charges often coming back to visit with their own children and grandchildren

You end up being a pair of old, happy parents with an impossibly large family

Halsin revels in it, finding a true passion in raising kids into happy and functional adults

It's apparent in the way he grows into the role, happily spending decades retelling the same favourite bedtime stories about him and his companions saving the sword coast

He continues to dote on you too, no matter how old you both get

The elf always reminds you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you

Halsin adores his grandkids too, often having them come for sleepovers or to play with all the other kids

He loves nothing more than seeing everyone safe and content, an owl bear happily trodding along after him

You'll find he insists on running the orphanage for as long as possible too, almost on deaths door by time he finally passes it on to his children to take over

Halsin is a very passionate man, and his giant family is one of his greatest passions

[ccalxx]

Dating Wriothesley Headcanons

What is it like dating the duke of the Meropide Fortress?

Wriothesley is very sharp and observant, even the faintest difference in your actions, he will know if something is wrong. He may be busy but he won't waste any time in asking you what's wrong or he would be comforting you if you need comfort.

Given that he is the Duke of the Meropide Fortress, a similar title to the Iudex of the Court of Fontaine, do expect that he'd really be busy. But not busy enough to prevent him from visiting or contacting you.

If you're the type of person that would make him cute bento boxes hoping to embarrass him (prank), well think again, because he actually doesn't care! He might chuckle a second or so, but he really thinks that your bento boxes are cute and something (despite being consumable) to cherish. He appreciates the thought and designs you put into.

He likes eating meat because of protein, just how he likes eating yo-, so you mostly make meat dishes in your bento. Tonkatsu that looks like a shark? Cute! Teriyaki chicken that resembles a wolf? Looks good! Pasta with shark shaped sausages? Thats nice!

On the outward appearance, you'd think he's scary or someone who has anger issues but he's not. He's really soft, caring, and cheeky too!

Do expect that he'd melt into your touch once he gets home from work. He may also fall asleep on times you didn't expect him to.

"[Nameeeeee] I'm home!" Wrio said as he wrapped his hands behind you and kisses your cheeks. You both went and sat on the couch, Wrio still clinging to you, as you ask him about his day, you noticed he isn't responding. He fell asleep while clinging to you, looks like you're not gonna feel your arm later.

He may have prevented you in going to Fortress of Meropide many times.

"Y/N, No. You might be in danger." "But Wrioooo" "No.".

But that didn't stop you from going and having lunch/snacks/dinner (he sometimes stay in the office even at night to finish paperworks). Instead he taught you some self defense moves in case you needed. "Okay Y/N if someone grabs your arm what should you do?" "Break their neck?" "Ye- what no!"

He likes tea, but you know what he likes more? You brewing him tea. You somehow learned different brew mixes just for him and he appreciates, no, he loves it so much! Because he doesn't really have the time to mix tea with lemon or whatever, because he's busy.

He isn't really a fan of PDA since he respects your personal space but in certain occasions he will assert that he's your man.

For example, someone in the overworld was harassing with you while you were selecting meat for his next meal. "*Whistles* Looking good pretty/handsome, just like that piece of meat you're holding" You were contemplating to slap the slab of meat on his face but you suddenly felt familiar hands around your waist. "My, my, that's not how to talk to a lady/gentleman is it not? It looks like you need to learn some manners, don't you think so Madamoiselle/Monseiur?" He looks at you with a warm smile and he looks straight up to the eyes of the guy. "Scram if you don't want me to report you to Monseiur Neuvillette for harassment". "Why are you here sweetie?" "Please don't tease me but... I kind of missed you... So I was looking for you at home but you weren't there..." "Aw, Wrio!" He looks around then he buries his head on the crook of your neck.

When there are times that you needed comfort, he will try his best to be there (ex. documents finished early) . If not, as a promise or a substitute he will leave his fur coat draped on you. He'll make up to you by bringing you food though (or flowers/things if you don't like food as much).

If you feel sick, he'd take a leave to work, he'd care for you until you are healthy.

Wriothesley is really sweet and caring, despite of how sharp or scary he looks. He'd do everything to make you happy and comfortable, and it's not an exaggeration that he'd risk himself for you. He loves so much and he never felt so drunk in love before, but now he's drunk in love with you.

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 4

Contents: pre-relationship headcanons, slow burn, pining, humour

The day after receiving the honey cakes, you felt slightly nervous at the prospect of meeting Nanami in the break room. You knew, however, that you could easily avoid the encounter.

Except, you didn't want to. There was a delicate balance to be maintained here, a dance of two birds hovering around the same flower and never alighting. If you didn't meet him as usual, you knew that a silent message would be sent, and received accordingly on his part. At the same time, your presence in the break room was a message on its own.

Shaking your head to clear it of these thoughts, you wondered for a minute if infatuation (you didn't want to use other terms for this feeling that you might regret later) really had to be this complicated. You didn't have time to think on it further, because the door to the room opened and the subject of your fixation stood right in front of you.

You couldn't be entirely certain, but Nanami seemed relieved to see you there. He took off his glasses and approached your table with his usual quiet greeting, which you returned. You decided to throw caution to the wind and take the initiative.

"Thank you for the cakes."

"No need. They were meant as a thanks to you for helping Yuuji," he countered smoothly, opening up his bought lunch and preparing his chopsticks.

You paused, wondering how to query after what you'd been wondering, but Nanami was back to his tricks of reading your mind. Just as you opened your mouth, he placed his folded napkin neatly to one side and said, "I've noticed you going to that bakery often. I also appreciate good quality food and have purchased their savoury range before."

You brightened immediately upon hearing that.

"Oh! Then did you try their focaccia? And the cheese and garlic bread?"

"Naturally. I'm particularly fond of the focaccia. The herb blend they use is quite splendid."

You clapped your hands together and leaned forward, all nervousness about this encounter now forgotten.

"But then, you must have tried the brie and bacon ciabatta at the place down the road, right?"

"Yes. The rocket leaves are a nice touch. They give a certain freshness and bite to what could be a heavy sandwich."

"Exactly! And the tomato tart is to die for!"

"Oh? I confess, I haven't tried that yet. Perhaps next time."

"And pair it with their French coffee. Great combination."

He took a bite of his lunch and chewed, carefully and contemplatively, as he did all things. He placed his chopsticks across the top of the container, then turned his entire body to face you, those earnest hazel eyes unflinching in their regard.

"I'm not very familiar with the menu of that place, though. Perhaps you could accompany me, to provide a few recommendations?"

You didn't have enough time to process the query. For once, your mind would not allow you to hesitate as you beamed at him and nodded.

"I'd be happy to! Let me know when you'd like to go."

"Of course."

It was only when your lunch break was over, when he'd bowed his head in a respectful greeting and left, that you realised just how rapidly your heart was beating and how your hands were experiencing small tremors, as if some mischievous sprite of the air had taken up residence there.

It felt a little like diving into the ocean, from the top of a cliff. The water may receive you, hard and turbulent at first, and then cradle you, allowing you to open your eyes and see the wonders that lay beneath. Or a treacherous rock could break your fall. Permanently.

It wasn't as if you didn't see the direction this was heading. It was the nature of the world you inhabited that made this so potentially damaging. He must know it too, so why ... But something was stopping you from going beyond that point in your thoughts. Was it intuition? Was it some innate instinct for doing what you should? Or was it plain illusion, a blindfold of obtuseness and stupidity that had somehow descended over the both of you?

Nanami sends you a message two days later, informing you that he had some time off after his morning mission and that he would like to visit the bakery, if that was fine.

Before you are able to stop yourself, to hesitate, to really think about what you are doing, you type 'Yes, perfect' and forward it to him.

You are beginning to realise that however you spin it, your answer will always be yes. Yes, yes, yes, a hundred times over. Consequences be damned.

When you finish your shift, you receive a message, punctual to the minute.

"I am waiting in the garden."

You glance into the small hand mirror you carry in your bag, brush fingers through your hair and pause before touching up your lipstick. As observant as he is, Nanami wouldn't miss something like that. A treacherous little part of your mind whispers to you, "Good. Let him."

Slamming the mirror shut, you head out, past the fairly empty rooms, through the corridors and out into the afternoon sunshine. Nanami is waiting exactly where he said he would be. His hair gleams like the glaze on those honey cakes in the buttery light of your office lamp. As you approach him, you're struck by how tall he seems, now that you're not seated at a table together.

He turns to you and offers a soft greeting. You both pause, and it seems that even Nanami is sometimes at a loss as to what course of action to take. You assert a winning smile and adjust your bag on your shoulder.

"Let's go and pick up some tarts, then."

Nanami's mouth twitches slightly.

"Oh ... I mean the tomato tarts, of course."

You can feel that tell-tale heat rising in your neck again. God, what a sentence to utter.

"I'm not sure what other tart you could mean. Let's go."

Your embarrassment turns to good humour as he turns and leads the way, his pace unhurried. He starts to point out changes on the campus that have been made since he returned to work here, some of which even you hadn't noticed, what with the blinker-vision that your job induced.

"Hmm. Those statues. They came up just last year."

"I remember. Had to call a whole crew in to install them correctly."

"What do you think about them?"

"Well, to be honest, I thought they were a little pretentious."

Nanami is silent for a minute and you glance at him curiously.

"Why? Do you like them?"

He can barely conceal the smugness in his tone when he says, "No. They were Gojo's idea."

You laugh and whatever tension or uneasiness there had been between the two of you evaporates. As you head slowly for the main entrance, Nanami types something on his phone and soon after, a black sedan, one you recognize as a Jujutsu Tech vehicle, draws up beside the two of you. Nanami instructs the driver to take you both into the nearby town where the bakery you frequent is located.

When you have been dropped off at a street corner some distance from the cafe, Nanami glances at you with a trace of uncertainty.

"I thought it would be nice weather to walk for a while. If you don't want to, then we can call for the car again."

"Of course I want to. You're right. It's a beautiful day."

You continue your stroll with him, suddenly hyper aware of his arm brushing against yours gently, the way he was deliberately keeping pace with your stride, the distinct masculine scent of him that was always evident when you were close together. You look down at his hands, the broad, elegant fingers calloused slightly at the inner curve, where they would drag against the hilt of his weapon. You wondered how they would feel under your own exploring digits.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, softly.

You. Always.

"When did you decide that your weapon was the most suitable one?"

"Hmm."

His gaze is on you now, intent. You meet it, them allow your eyes to travel down to his hands. You've broken many vows already, but this new one, to be more open about what you think and feel, seems to be one you can adhere to.

Nanami follows your gaze and then lifts one hand, palm up, so that you can see more clearly.

"I assume you're wondering how it feels to wield a blade?"

"A little, yes."

"When we trained as sorcerers, they asked us to try out different weapons, become proficient at a few and then narrow it down to those we felt most comfortable with. I tried polearms, axes, swords, bludgeons. I found that I liked the weight of the heavy weapons, but also the precision of the blade. I told this to... a friend of mine. He went digging through the whole shed looking for something that suited me. I told him to drop it, that what I was looking for was unlikely to exist among cursed tools."

"But he kept looking, I assume?"

"He did, indeed. Day after day. He'd go looking after every training session, until even I became sick of asking him to stop. He was ... persistent like that. Haibara."

He says the name as if exhaling a weighted breath. You decide that the heaviness it bears must be pain. You think you can guess what had happened to Haibara.

"So he found your current weapon?"

"Not quite. He found an old knife, the type used to cut through dense bushes and branches. He said it felt right. I took it from him and ... he was right. It felt good in my hand. Balanced. I showed it to our teacher at the time and they had one designed for me, to the specifications I described."

He turns to you, and although the lines at the corners of his mouth seem a little deeper, his expression is more open.

"Does that answer your question?"

"It does. And I have another."

"Well, it's going to have to wait until you answer mine."

"Oh?"

"Are you in the habit of picking up tarts?"

"Nanami!"

"Pardon me. Then I'll ask something a little less personal. What is it about crosswords that you like so much?"

"Hmm. I suppose ... because I never used to be good at them."

"You weren't?"

"I was hopeless, actually," you laugh, "But I did love the challenge. I've always been good with languages. Eventually they became second nature to me."

"I see. It has to do with your stubborn streak, then?"

You splutter a little.

"What do you mean stubborn streak, as if it's a habit?"

"So you admit it, then."

"I - all right. Yes. But you're not telling me much about - "

"I overhead you talking to someone in the supply department once. You asked for a type of cubicle for the students' classrooms and they didn't make those. You drew something that looked like a beehive and sent it to him by email."

"Is there something wrong with shelving that looks like a beehive?"

"The craftsman certainly thought so, until you wore him down through sheer persistence."

"At least I'm consistently annoying."

"I don't find you annoying at all."

Your smile belies the pleasant frisson those words send through you. Honestly, your standards shouldn't be so embarrassingly low.

"Oh really? Maybe that's a character flaw, then."

He glances over and another small smile toys at the corner of his mouth.

"Possibly. I am known to possess a very high tolerance for certain persons."

By the time you reach the bakery, Nanami's speech is already less formal than you're accustomed to. He has loosened his tie slightly and his arms swing with greater freedom as he walks. He looks like he's actually having a good time and you know that you probably look much the same. It's almost too easy, this quiet camaraderie, the flow from one topic to another, the humour that bites and leaves such a teasing, pleasant sting in its wake.

You never thought it would be like this, but now you're perusing the menu, and you push that thought aside. Nanami has found you the perfect seats in a small private corner of the cafe, where you can see the street clearly, but are shielded from the view of those coming in through the main entrance. Nanami had pulled out your chair for you before seating himself and the sun's warmth is comforting against your back.

"Have you decided?" he asks, after a short while. 

"I think I'm going to try the camembert toast with fig preserve and honey."

"Feeling for something sweet, then?"

"Today, yes. What about you?"

"I'll try that tart."

You struggle to keep a straight face and Nanami eyes you slyly over the top of his menu. Clearing your throat, you continue.

"I'm glad you're taking my recommendation."

"I see it has goat's cheese. Quite the complement. I do trust you in matters of food."

"Are there matters with which you don't trust me?"

He folds the menu away and regards you seriously.

"I wouldn't trust you in matters of dancing."

You stare at him. For someone so unassuming, this man really had a penchant for stating the unexpected.

"Dancing?"

"I've noticed you trip on the corner of your desk more than a few times."

"Oh God." You cover your face, mortified. "Really? Is there anything you don't notice?"

"Little escapes me."

The waitress arrives and saves you from his merciless analysis of your clumsy nature. She takes your orders and there is a small lull in the conversation as you wait for your drinks. You take the time to examine him, and he you. There is something intimate, but relaxing about this, the way your eyes can openly take each other in now. He seems to hesitate before asking you his next question.

"Do you like this kind of thing?"

"Eating at cafes?"

"Exploring new places to eat in general."

"Oh, yes. I do it quite often by myself."

The unspoken question was answered and Nanami's expression was suddenly closed and vulnerable. He looked away from you, out into the street. His next words were considered and quiet.

"I eat out with my colleagues sometimes. After a job."

Your hands clutch the menu a little too tightly, crinkling the corners.

"You mean, like this?"

He looks you in the eye, and what you see there both exhilarates and terrifies you. There is a softly burning fire there, a quiet longing, a wound that has been picked open many times by uncontrolled fingers. His answer sounds clear, even amongst the noises of chatter, dishes clanking and the hiss of the coffee machines.

"No. Not like this."

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls

[forsinnersandsaintsalike]

Hello ☺️

What do you think of a reader x billy/stu where they spend so much time with the reader and her family that they kind off become a part of it

Example: her mom makes food for them also, the fam invites them for holidays and family vacations

Billy boy and stu stu would LOVE this

I think they would too!

Apart of the family now

Billy Loomis

Billy, who isn't exactly known for a stable or supportive home life, would be hesitant at first. He's not used to such warmth and kindness, so he might seem a little awkward.

Over time, though, he'd grow to genuinely appreciate being included. Your mom's cooking would become his favorite, even if he doesn't say it outright.

"Your mom made lasagna again? Guess I'll stick around." (Translation: I love it here.)

Billy would quietly become protective of your family. Whether it's helping your dad fix something or giving your sibling advice, he'd integrate himself in ways that might even surprise him.

If your parents ever mentioned how much they appreciate him being around, he'd brush it off but secretly feel a warmth he's never really known.

Billy would enjoy the holidays, though he'd be more reserved during big family gatherings. He'd sit next to you, holding your hand under the table, occasionally smirking at the chaos around him.

If anyone teased him about being part of the family, he'd roll his eyes but secretly love the sentiment.

Stu Macher

Stu would charm his way into your family in no time. Your parents would adore him for his humor and lighthearted energy, even if they sometimes found him a bit much.

He'd joke with your siblings, help your mom in the kitchen (probably eating half the food in the process), and somehow get your dad to watch goofy movies with him.

Stu would fully embrace family holidays-whether it's decorating the Christmas tree, organizing Easter egg hunts, or even dressing up for Halloween.

"Family vacations? Count me in! I call dibs on the window seat!"

Unlike Billy, Stu wouldn't hold back his appreciation. He'd constantly thank your mom for meals, bring flowers for family dinners, and brag to his friends about how great your family is.

"Your mom's spaghetti is the best thing l've ever had. I'd marry her cooking if I could!"

Together

Your family wouldn't just tolerate Billy and Stu-they'd practically adopt them. Your mom would pack extra lunches for them, your dad would involve them in weekend projects, and your siblings would treat them like older brothers.

Billy would grumble about it sometimes, but Stu would wholeheartedly embrace being "the favorite son."

Stu would bring the fun and energy, while Billy would quietly keep an eye on everyone, making sure nothing went wrong.

Whether it's playing games on a road trip or helping with family traditions, they'd both make themselves indispensable.

For Billy, being welcomed into your family would mean more than he'd ever admit. He'd find himself smiling during quiet family dinners, realizing he finally feels like he belongs somewhere.

For Stu, it'd be a dream come true an extension of his own loud, chaotic personality into a family that loves him just the way he is.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things-Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Two: Daffodils - New Beginnings

Summary: Andrew comes back to pay you, but not before spending some much-needed time at his day job.

Word count: 2439

Author's note: thank you all so much for the positivity the first chapter!!! i cannot wait to keep working on this fic, you guys make it all worth it. i'm really fond of this chapter so hopefully you all enjoy :)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

Andrew did not take two days to come back. He took one day.

He chalked it up to him feeling guilty. What you did for him was a very unnecessary act of kindness. What was he supposed to do? Take his time? Absolutely not.

Admittedly, a small part of it was also that he wanted to see your face again. Not that it mattered, but he wondered what the smile on your face would look like when he told you his mother loved the flowers, and that she immediately put them in her nicest vase and in direct sunlight, wanting to maintain them for as long as possible. He wanted to know more about flower language, something he had done a Google search for when he arrived at home, but he had faith you knew much more than what the internet could tell him. And most importantly, it seemed very one-sided that you had his number and he didn't have yours.

Again, not that it mattered.

It was also an issue of convenience. Andrew tried to plan out his day on the commute to work, and luckily you fit right into his schedule. Your shop was only a few minutes away from where he worked. He could walk over to you during his lunch break, pay you back, and still grab a bite to eat. If he was willing to skip lunch, he could even try to talk to you for a little bit.

Anyway, he was getting sidetracked. He had a lot to do today; he should have much more important things on his mind. This is what he thought about as he pulled into the parking lot. He only had three clients, but he could already tell one of them would be a tall order. Thankfully, that was his first appointment, so he could get that over with. Then, hopefully, he’d repay you, maybe chat, and get back to work.

Right. Work. Love wouldn’t exactly describe his feelings towards his job. Appreciation, definitely. He was grateful that he wasn’t stuck behind an office desk and had a job that could actually let him express his creativity. However, the amount of effort and concentration he had to put into his job on a daily basis was something he dreaded and others (especially his customers) overlooked. He couldn’t truly complain. It was worth it for the end result, and for the happiness on the customer’s face.

Enjoyment probably described his feelings best. Andrew enjoyed being a tattoo artist. A fitting thought to have right as he entered the shop.

He greeted his coworkers with a wave and a polite smile, as always (though seeing his best friend Alex at their shared workplace constituted a high-five instead). Attempting to start working as soon as he could, he scrolled through the photos on his phone and pulled up the sketch of what he'd be inking today: two deer lying down side by side, decomposing. Sure, drawing a decaying animal on someone else’s body wasn’t how most people would choose to start their day. It was an unorthodox choice, but he understood the appeal. It was poetic, in a gruesome way, the concept of never being able to be pulled away from the one you love, not even in death. Decomposing, but still being joyous because at least your partner was still by your side. A lyric without a melody came to him.

After the insects have made their claim, I’d be home with you.

Andrew let out a deep sigh. This would happen to him sometimes; the simple act of anything from sketching a design to reading his favorite book caused couplets to sprout in his head. It gave him this guilt, like he was cheating on his career and songwriting was the other woman, but people are allowed to be multifaceted. Besides, his ability to write songs never did evolve into something substantial. If anything, it was a hobby. Just another creative outlet — and Andrew was always itching to create.

His customer walked in a few minutes afterwards, and he got ready to get to work. He had met her before: a thin, freckled young woman with a wide smile and one small tattoo on her shoulder. They exchanged pleasantries, confirmed that she approved of the design, and made small talk as he printed the stencil. He cleansed his workspace and let his client get as comfortable as possible before he began.

He took his time inking the design, meticulously needling each detail he'd crafted. The shading, the fungi surrounding the deer, the exposed, rotting ribcage. What he was most proud of was the subtle looks on the animals’ faces, purposefully made to be filled with both solemnness of their passing, but overall content. Calmness, even. The lyric he had created before played over and over in his head, despite his multiple attempts to push it away.

By the time he’d finished up, his hand was cramping so hard he was concerned it might fall off, a pain familiar to him but one that he never fully got accustomed to. All that aching for something he wasn't even done with; he’d need to have another session to fully finish the job.

Gloves were removed, payments were accepted, and follow-up sessions were scheduled. He took a photo of his work in progress, with the consent of his client. Other artists did this often, but Andrew wasn't one for so much commemoration of his art. He felt too much of an attachment to this specific work, however, and felt he'd be letting himself down if he didn't get to at least have it in his phone. He waved the client (and his artwork) goodbye. Alex walked by, drinking a coffee that had undoubtedly gone cold. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking Andrew what he was doing.

“I’m going on a walk. I have to go back to the florist.”

“Weren't you literally there yesterday for your mum?”

“It's to pay them back. I… technically never paid for the bouquet,” Andrew explained as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, so you stole those flowers? Have fun doing tattoos in prison!”

“I didn't steal them, the woman working there said I could take them as long as I paid her back in two days.” He stuck his hands in his pockets to make sure he had his wallet this time. A perplexed look came across Alex’s face.

“What kind of shady florist are you going to?”

“She's the furthest thing from shady. It was very bright in there, actually. And welcoming.”

“I’m sure it was. Very welcoming, indeed,” Alex commented before taking a sip from his cup.

“What are you insinuating here?”

“That you already fancy this florist woman.”

“You do know it's possible for me to have a platonic conversation with the opposite gender, right?”

“You're too much of a hopeless romantic for me to believe that's what's going on here.”

As usual, Andrew’s best friend could see right through him. He ignored Alex’s theories, becoming more annoyed than impressed.

“And with that, I’m going.”

“Bye. Have fun with your yearning,” Alex joked with a wave.

He said goodbye and stepped outside. To his surprise, he was greeted by a light drizzle, which he didn't mind. It freshened him up, something he didn't know he needed until the cool droplets hit his face. He only hoped it wouldn't worsen, as with his light jacket he would be dreadfully unprepared.

It had been a relatively slow day. Unlike yesterday, no one else forgot their wallet and needed a favor. No one else actually bothered with what you had to say about the messages of the bouquets. And unlike yesterday, no customers caught your eye. For most of your day, you were zoned out, lost in your own world when you didn't have a customer. When you were more aware of your surroundings, you found yourself always checking the doorway, subconsciously waiting for a certain someone’s arrival. Still, you were living most of your day in a daze. You didn't even notice it was pouring outside until Andrew walked in, absolutely drenched. It took you a moment to fully absorb his frazzled state; not only was he soaked, he was out of breath.

“Hello. I didn't expect you to be back so soon,” you admitted. In fact, part of you didn't expect him to return at all.

“I like,” he said, panting after every other word, “to keep my promises.”

“Are you… Did you run here?”

“I started off walking, but then it began to downpour so I tried to hurry up. Weather is a fickle thing, huh?”

“I could lend you my umbrella, if you want. For the walk back.”

“You’ve done enough for me already. I couldn't take your protection from the rain as well. I’ll just constantly try to stay under awnings.”

You chuckled at his comment. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure before walking towards you.

“You’ll be happy to know my mum adores the bouquet. She liked the look of it first, but then after I explained your flower language, her face lit up. She put it in a vase and it's now on display on her windowsill.”

“That's great to hear,” you responded as a grin spread across your face. It always brightened your day to hear positive feedback from the people who actually received the arrangements you worked so hard on. It also satisfied you that Andrew was beaming the entire time, fueled by the joy you inspired in his mother.

“She's now expecting flowers for almost every occasion, so I hope you're open on holidays.”

“Oh, we're open year-round. Except for Valentine’s Day, when we close out of fear that boyfriends that need to seem romantic will form a stampede and storm through the place,” you joked.

“Good to know that you value the safety of your employees,” he said, continuing the discussion with a similar sarcastic tone.

“Employees? God no, it's for the safety of the flowers. I can always hire someone else year-round. I only get my lily-of-the-valley shipments the last week of January. Those things are expensive. I can't have a last-minute hoard of men trying to seem thoughtful destroying them.”

“I’ve got a cousin that's a chocolatier and she has a very similar policy.”

“What can I say? I take very serious precautions to protect my art.”

You couldn't keep a serious face for too long; after a pause, you cracked a smile and a small giggle escaped you. Andrew took this as an opportunity to change the subject, because as much as he could've stood there talking to you for the rest of the day, you both had jobs to get back to.

“I’ll stop talking your ear off. I came here for an actual reason. Let me pay you back,” he said.He took out his wallet and counted out a few dollars before placing them on the counter.

“Here. That's what I owe you.” He pulled out another banknote and held it out towards you. “And here's an extra fifty. To thank you for your kindness.”

Your eyebrows raised at his gesture, which you instantly declined, giving this extra money back to him.

“Goodness, um… thank you, but I can't accept this.”

“Sure you can. It’s my attempt at repaying you. Think of it as a tip.”

“I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I don't expect anything in return, I’m just happy I could bring a smile to your face. And to your mum’s.”

“Let me do something for you too, then. You deserve to have a smile on your face as well.”

You let out a sigh, but made no effort to counter his proposal. He paused for a moment, premeditating what he was going to say. He spoke again.

“You really helped me out, and I want to be able to do something for you. Let me buy you a coffee someday. Or a tea. Or even a croissant if you’re hungry,” he offered, his tone bordering on pleading.

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you were too nervous to say out loud, but couldn't help but wonder.

Are you asking me out on a date?

You kept quiet. He was just trying to be nice; there was no romantic intent. At least, that's what you told yourself. Your answer was the same as it would be if that was his intention.

“Alright. When and where?”

“There's a cafe about ten minutes from here. Want to meet there on Friday at 9 in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great! Great. I’ll… I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You both stood there, frozen for a few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. Andrew broke away first. He took a step back and walked away, glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye before reaching for the door handle. You waved in return, a small smile breaching your lips. The minute he left, you started to count down the hours until Friday.

There was this principle in psychology that had stuck with Andrew ever since he learned of it: the more you think about something, the more likely you are to notice it in your day-to-day life. He was especially feeling this principle today because ever since he met you, he saw flowers everywhere. It was as if the cosmos had decided that he couldn't forget about you, even if he wanted to.

There were flowers on every table of the restaurant he met his mother at. When he went back to his flat that day, he noticed his landlord placed pots of marigolds on the front step of the building. They even followed him to his place of work; his next client of the day wanted line art of a daffodil on her forearm.

She had told him her reasoning was the meaning of the flower—daffodils mean new beginnings. He wondered if you could corroborate that meaning with what you knew of flower language. If this woman knew how absolutely overrun with flora the past twenty-four hours had been for him. Was she sent by the universe to tell him that what was starting with you was just blossoming? Or was she just a twenty-something that wanted a tattoo she saw on Pinterest? Andrew was okay with either option; he was a grown man, aware that not everything in life was because of fate. He was just excited that he got to start something new with you, no matter how it ended.

[0oolookitsme]

Daddy of Three

Type - A One Shot again!

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - None that I can find! (other than the fact that this is pure smut ofc)

A/n - Lowkey hate the title (you will too when you find out the context) but I just hope you enjoy this hahah <3

Kinks - Daddy kink, Face Fucking, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Please rb to share!

Y/n was chopping up the vegetables she'd need for the meal she was going to cook tomorrow morning for Harry and Karan's lunch. Her eyes remained on her iPad's screen, on which she could see the page Carla was presenting in the meeting.

Clicking on the little mic icon by her knuckle, she unmuted herself. "Marla, don't you think that we should use red and yellow undertones? It's going to be a violent and a sad scene, I think it would work better," she said, not exactly agreeing with her idea of using green undertones.

"I agree," a few people wrote in the chat.

"But ma'am, we probably wouldn't have as much screen time for that scene. Plus, we have a scene inside the hotel's bathroom after that, which they tell us would give off green hues," Marla said, sliding photos till the bathroom set was on the screen.

Y/n hummed, laughing at how she'd absolutely forgotten about that. "Then I'd say that we do put green undertones but less. We need the switch between the scenes to be slightly puzzling – nothing like 'what the hell are they doing in the bathroom now' though," she said, making the other woman laugh and other people text the laughing emojis.

They agreed on trying the directory for the same the next day, and planned out a few more things before bidding goodbyes. Right at that time, Harry and Karan also got up from the couch as the show they were watching just ended.

"Are you done?" Harry asked her, walking behind Karan who seemed to be growing taller and taller everyday. It still mesmerized her, the resemblance between the two – same green eyes, same curly hair, same nose. Only his mouth matched with hers, other than that, he was a ditto copy of Harry.

"Yes," Y/n groaned while getting up, stretching the moment she was on her feet while taking a big yawn. "Not really, just a bit tired from all the screen time," she said when Harry asked her if she was feeling sleepy.

"Serve the dinner, will you? I just quickly need to wind my stuff up." She looked at Harry with pleading and slightly guilty eyes, kissing the corner of her mouth once he mumbled an 'of course.'

"Don't take too much time, though!" He yelled as she hurried up the stairs.

Karan climbed up in his chair on his own with a bit of struggle. He'd finally grown tall enough to be able to sit on the main dinner table, but still he needed a taller chair to sit on.

"Look at you going, already a big boy," Harry grinned at the little one, who was about to turn four this year. A breathy chuckle escaped his mouth when the boy's ears turned pink, he was born a shy persona but that never deterred him from speaking up when he wanted to.

Y/n watched from atop as Harry talked to Karan about the show they were just watching. It had shown some wild animals tonight, from what she could hear. She couldn't help but swoon a little bit on the inside as Karan climbed down the chair with a bit of grunting and helped Harry serve the table.

"Bring me a glass, please," Harry asked the kid just because he was eager to help. "Thank you," he appreciated him once the glass was on the table.

"Y/n –" Harry was about to call for her when he saw her watching him from the doorframe of their room. "C'mon, what are you waiting for?" He laughed, feeling a tad bit of shyness creep up on him when he realized that she'd been watching him.

They've known each other since childhood yet she still manages to turn his ears pink by just her gaze – it was yet another trait that Karan got from Harry.

"Could watch you be a baby daddy all day long. Just makes me feel so hot," she whispered in his ears, grinning when he slapped her bum sneakily.

"Did you tell daddy about the puzzle we solved today?" Y/n asked Karan and melted on the inside when his eyes lit up and he sat upright, suddenly excited and eager to tell Harry all about it.

And Karan's energized talking about the animals was how they spent their time eating dinner. Talking about Karan's puzzle, Harry's practice routine for the next day and Y/n's plans for visiting the set for a run-through were some add-ons in the talk here and there. Once they'd finished, Y/n took Karan up to his room to read him one of his nightly-stories, and lull him to sleep – it was Harry's turn to do the dishes tonight.

The toddler was extra tired today. He'd had football practice for a small upcoming match in his school, solved a lot of math problems and a whole puzzle in one day. So, it only took about four paragraphs of the story in the calming voice of his mother for him to pass out.

Y/n climbed down the stairs as silently as she could and pressed a feather-light kiss on Harry's neck, who didn't get scared in the slightest – probably because he heard her jam her toe in the leg of the dining table.

Harry hummed to acknowledge her presence, loading the last plate into the dishwasher. She stood back patiently, and once he was done, Harry turned around and leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

Then, y/n leaned in to press a chaste kiss onto his lips.

"Mm, someone's feeling needy," he smirked when she pulled back, pulling her in again by her waist when she nodded. "What do you need, love?" Harry asked her, pecking her lips again with a soft smile on his mouth.

"Need to taste you, daddy – been so long," she mumbled, slowly and slowly relaxing into his body.

He continued tracing the outline of her lips, "Is that so?" He asked again, and when she nodded he released her lower lip from under the weight of his thumb, watching it rise back to its place.

"Then we'll put that mouth of yours to a good use," he rasped, reaching for her mouth again as he slid one of his hands on the back of her head, pulling her hair back to give him space to litter her neck in kisses.

When her mouth met his skin, she left open-mouthed kisses on it and bit on a few spots before Harry started pushing her down on her knees. Once she was down, she pulled down his sweats on his command and watched as his cock stood up, already hard. She spit on her palm, lubricating his length as she stroked him.

"Hands behind your back," Harry told her, and started lowering her head on his length when she took him in his mouth. "Fuck," he breathed, watching her as he pushed her lower and lower on him slowly.

He cherished the feeling of her warm mouth on him, and when she reached his base, he let out a groan as the feeling of his tip touching the very back of her throat.

Y/n could taste his salty pre-cum that had started to leak from his slit. It would've been more convenient for her if she could've placed her hands on his thighs, but somehow, this position was only making her panties wetter.

When Harry asked her if she was ready to go, she quickly showed him a thumbs up before holding her wrist behind her back again.

Slowly and slowly, Harry started bringing her head back and forth by his grip on her hair. Her lips wrapped around him felt every vien as he brought her head up till his reddened tip. She managed to take a lick at his slit before he brought her down again, faster this time.

Now, her head was bobbing faster on his cock and with the way her saliva was starting to dribble down her chin, she could feel him pulsing in mouth as she hollowed out her cheeks when she hit the base.

She gagged a bit when Harry pushed in till the back of throat. And then, he quickened the pace.

He held her head in one place as she tried to swallow some of his arosual fucked into her mouth, the sounds of her gagging filling the kitchen. "Fuck- you're doing so well, darling," Harry moaned above her, creating a pace again – his eyes unable to move from the sight of strings of her saliva and his arousal moving with each bob of her head.

He fucked her mouth with a fast pace, his tips dragging along her tongue before hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. "Jesus- fuck," he choked, his hold on her head getting tighter as he began ruthlessly fucking into her mouth.

"Breath from your nose, baby," Harry told her, continuing to thrust his cock deep down her throat by now. She started gurgling on her own saliva and his precum, her arms starting to ache as tears leaked out of her eyes and she clenched around nothing, her pussy feeling like it were ready to be pounded.

"Oh lord," he grunted, slowing down his pace just when Y/n thought he was close to releasing down her throat, he brushed his hand through her hair.

Gradually, Harry pulled out of her mouth and just when she was beginning to think that something had gone wrong, Harry helped her get up on her legs.

She stumbled a bit, her legs a bit numb, and knees hurting because of the hard floor. She freed her arms then as well, holding onto his biceps as she balanced herself.

"Fuck you're such a wreck," Harry breathed, wiping away at her damp skin – not able to tell the difference between her tears and her sweat. "And because of me too," he chuckled, brushing her hair back as she caught up with her breath.

"C'mon, wanted to come down your throat, but I need something else more than that right now," Harry said as he picked her up bridal style in his arms, the veins in his biceps popping out.

"What is it?"

"Need to feel your pussy, darling."

When Harry dropped her on their bed, she immediately got up on her elbows, her knees touching but feet wide apart. "Fill me up, daddy? Want another baby," she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry groaned, climbing up on the bed while stroking himself. "Fucking hell – 'course I will," he told her as he sat back on his calves in front of her. "Gonna make me daddy of three, aren't you -- since you clear need one at all times, as well?" Harry teased her.

"Open your legs for me, wanna see ya." Y/n did as Harry told her and he swiped his middle finger through her folds, realizing that she was already soaking wet, ready to take him.

"Gonna give you all my babies, darling. Gonna fill you up to the brim and get you pregnant again," he rasped, lining himself against her hole, wetting his tip. "Fuckin' missed watching your belly swell up with a baby – my baby, " he said while watching himself disappear inside her pussy.

Beginning to thrust into her, Harry's hand came to knead one of her boobs. "Need to see you breastfeed a little one again – see those leaking nipples," he choked out, so turned on that he already felt close to climaxing.

"Gonna come for daddy, love?" Harry cooed at her, feeling her thighs begin to shake around his hips already. "Give it to y' husband."

Y/n lied there under him, shaking and moaning as the knot in her belly moved lower and lower. "Gonna cum- fuck –" she coughed, shaking harder as her skin felt like it was on fire when Harry started rubbing her clit.

"Come for Daddy, darling. Doing so good," Harry praised her, increasing his pace as he felt his own balls tighten. As he thumbed tighter and faster circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves, he felt her walls clenching around him.

"So good for me, so fuckin' good around me – fucking made for me," Harry grunted, feeling like he was going to combust.

"Co-coming daddy – O-Oh I'm cuming fuck-" Y/n stuttered, her back arching as Harry fucked into her pussy mercilessly. She could feel him pulsing inside her, and once he hit her g-spot again, she felt like she had been electricuted as she came on his cock.

Her cum went everywhere as Harry continued fucking into her, the bed creaking under his pace. "So good for daddy, look how much you came," he chuckled breathlessly, looking down where she had soaked him and the mattress, white strings of her cum sticking to his base.

Y/n intionally cleanched around him again, lying fucked out of her mind and breathless.

"Good girl- that's a good fucking girl," Harry cursed before he shot ropes of his cum deep in her pussy. Ramming into her pussy until she had milked him dry, he finally stopped when some of his cum started spilling out of her.

"Gonna fill you up again, make sure I put a baby in you," Harry told her as he wiped sweat off his forehead – grinning down at her when she hooked her arms under her knees, giving him full access to her pussy.

"Daddy's gonna give it to you good, sweet girl," Harry said gleefully, laughing when Y/n managed to swat at his chest.

[vaguesxrrow]

Cat king x reader headcanons please? Honestly anything will suffice but can cuddling be mentioned. Perhaps just relationship headcanons.

ofcc, i enjoyed writing this so hope u enjoy reading <3 sorry for the long wait

cat king / reader relationship hcs

a/n: any details about the reader are completely unspecified so imagine to your heart's content - the only thing is that they definitely arent afraid of thomas !

tags: gender neutral reader

- honestly, i think thomas would be kind of lost as to how to actually ask you out

- sure, he would flirt with you from the get go, complimenting everything you did and constantly inviting you to go places with him. but actually asking for a relationship? ehh...

- so instead, he'd keep bringing you gifts

- at first, he's just task his cats with wordlessly bringing you flowers, etc

- until one day you demand to know who they're from, and his cats spill

- "they're from the cat king. everyone knows he has a soft spot for you."

- you: well.. tell thomas thank you

- after the confirmation that you do in fact appreciate his gifts, thomas will start bring them to you himself

- as for how you finally get together...

- imagine: you've been 'coincidentally' running into him for about a week now, and you finally confront him

- he isnt used to being confronted like this so all his pent up feelings would come pouring out

- of course, you feel the same way. you know that really, thomas tries to be the best that he can for his cats and for you xx

- he's thoughtful and caring. what's not to like?

- okay now we can get into the relationship stuff

- firstly, dates: i imagine a lot of breakfast/lunch/dinner dates, where you both dress up or coordinate outfits cause you KNOW thomas would be all for it

- he would buy you a lot of clothes or jewelry that adhere to your style

- this man would know you so well, all from observing you and noticing the little things

- because of this, he would often surprise you with gifts that always suit your liking

- i imagine that eventually your home would become his and vice versa

- you would get used to sharing a space with him and you can bet that he would always take care of you after a long day

- i think cooking together would be a cute domestic activity

- and if you don't like cooking, he'd be thrilled to have you sit on the counter and sample his concoctions

- he doesn't sleep much at night cause he's a cat and all, but will for you

- and i imagine that he sleeps the best with you by his side and with physical contact because he likes knowing you're by his side

- thomas is a bit of a serial cuddler

- like, he will latch onto you at night and not let go

- however, he does take a lot of naps

- during naps, imagine him tucked into the crook of your arm, curled up in true cat fashion

- doesn't mind whether he's the big or little spoon (if asked, he would jokingly say neither - he eats with his claws) so you switch

- him as the big spoon: arm around your head as a pillow for you, the other one around your torso

- him as the little spoon: loves it when you scritch his back, neck, hair. anything, really

- cuddling doesn't even have to come with sleep for him. he's more than happy to just lay there and talk

- ^^ when this happens though his favourite thing is to have you tangled together, so much so that you can't tell who's on top of who

- he would talk to you, or really just be thinking aloud, and loves it when he can feel the vibration of your laughter when he cracks a joke

- he really just likes seeing you happy and will try to be there for you in any way that he can