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seumyo · 1 day ago

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I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG

PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?

FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.

NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!

MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.

Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.

His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.

It reminded him of someone. Someone close.

You.

And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.

Ayane’s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.

As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way she always stood firm despite her fears.

God, it felt like seeing you all over again.

“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”

Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”

He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.

As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.

“[First Name], I—”

Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.

Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to terms with it.

“Sensei?”

The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”

Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?

What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.

“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”

“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”

Her words hit too close to home.

“Thank you,” he could only murmur.

Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”

But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.

Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.

Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.

The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.

In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.

He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.

Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?

“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.

“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”

The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.

He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.

“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.

“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.

“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”

The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever she tried to drag him along to something.

“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”

And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.

“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.

“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.

“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.

Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.

Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.

Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P

His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”

He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.

“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.

“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”

He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, whever you are.”

As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.

TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.

Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.

“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.

Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”

The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.

“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”

Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.

“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”

He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.

“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”

The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.

“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.

“I need you now, please.”

The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.

You did like sunsets, didn’t you?

“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”

He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.

“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”

Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”

He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.

“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”

As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.

He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.

SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.

If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.

Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.

All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.

Now, it was just silence.

With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.

“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”

He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.

He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.

He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.

“I saw this and thought of you!”

Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.

“Me?”

You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”

Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.

Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.

He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.

The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.

Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.

The prince has been so stressed lately.

I wish I could take it all away.

He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.

Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.

Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.

Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.

He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.

“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”

He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.

You’re going to be amazing. Always.

A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.

When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”

He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.

“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”

The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.

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kireiflowerjayla · 2 days ago

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ׂ╰┈➤🅲︎🅷︎🅴︎🅴︎🅺︎ᵃˢˢ 🆂︎🅻︎🅰︎🅿︎ੈ✩‧₊˚

Genre : fuffly but not, angry gf!!, cat parents,

Prompt- Y/n baking a cake for their cat's bday and Niki is really jealous, and he keeps slapping her ass until you're annoyed......... plus

Y/n carefully measured the flour, making sure not a speck of it spilled over the edges of the bowl. "Today's the day, Millie. Your birthday cake will be perfect," Y/n said, glancing at their fur baby sitting regally on the counter.

Niki, who had been lounging on the couch, perked up and strolled into the kitchen. He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorway, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're putting in that much effort for a cat?"

Y/n didn’t even look up. "Yes, my cat deserves it."

"But when's the last time you baked me a cake?" he teased, moving closer.

Y/n rolled their eyes, focused on mixing the batter. "Your birthday was last month. You got brownies."

"And now you're giving me an attitude? Okay." With one swift motion, his hand came down against their backside with an audible smack.

Y/n gasped, straightening up. "Niki!"

"What? Just a little reminder of who deserves all your attention," he said smugly.

Annoyed but trying to stay focused, Y/n turned back to the batter. But before they could get far—smack! again.

"Niki! Stop it, or the only thing you'll get is crumbs for dinner!"

“What? I’m just here for moral support,” he replied, casually leaning on the counter.

“Moral support doesn’t require slapping my ass.”

“We Could’ve made out together. Why are you even making a cake for the cat?” he asked, gesturing toward Millie, who was now grooming herself like the queen she was.

“It’s not for her; it’s for me! For her i bought special cat food, I just want to celebrate my baby's birthday. Is that a crime?” Y/n huffed, turning back to her work.

Niki raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ll bake a whole cake for Millie’s birthday,and she is not your baby”

“You don’t even like sweets,and yeah she is not my baby she is our baby, our sweet daughter” she countered, keeping her attention on the frosting she was preparing.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of it,and that rat looking thing isn't my baby- but if you really want a baby i can stop wearing protection" he said smirking, and i told you we didn't need a cat .”Another smack—this time firmer than before.

“Ouchh Niki that hurt stop,she said as she saw his hand about to hit her ass again" Also no i don't want to be pregnant so young, if you do that one more time, I swear I’ll—” smack!

“Are you serious?!” she exclaimed, standing upright and pointing a frosting-covered spoon at him.

Niki shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “What? You get so cute when you’re annoyed. Also, you’re ignoring me. I feel neglected.”

“You are not in competition with my daughter,” she deadpanned.

“Oh, but I am. Clearly, she gets all your attention,” Niki said dramatically, pointing at Snowball, who was now sprawled across the couch

Y/n set the spoon down and marched toward him, her hands on her hips. “Listen, mister—if you don’t stop—”

But Niki just leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips mid-lecture. “I’ll stop when you admit you love me more than the cat,” he murmured.

Y/n sighed, exasperated. “Fine. I love you more than Millie.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, finally backing away. “Now, how about letting me lick the bowl?”

“Not happening,” she replied, but there was a small smile on her face as she turned back to the cake.

"Okay then we can lick it together" smirking

"Eww Absolutely not" she said being a bit disgusted"Ugh this is why you shouldn't hang out with Heeseung and Jake, look at what they did to my innocent Kiki, i loved when he used to get all shy"

"Ohhh yeah let me show you what this Kiki of yours can do"he said and picked Y/n up on her shoulder....

"Ahhh Niki noo what are u doing, Millie ahh save me"Niki chuckled

I guess Millie is getting a sibling 😅.....

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen niki #enha #enhypen fanfic #kireiflowerjayla #niki ff #fuffy #fanfic #baking #cat #enhypen heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung enha #enha heeseung #enhypen jake #jake sim #jakey

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nikoniclove · 1 day ago

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hello! i haven't read all of the ace in the hole fics yet, so i don't know if this idea works with the ages you have in mind for the characters, but i know emily (and jj) are a lot older than ace and paget went grey pretty young irl so it might work

could you do a chapter where somebody mistakes emily for being henry's grandma (a young grandma, to be fair) instead of his mom and showing her dealing with the insecurities of being an older parent and worrying that she won't be able to be as present as she wants to be in henry's life when she gets older? or feel free to completely ignore this request if it doesn't work with the character's ages lmao. thank you!

Ao3 won’t load, so for now, this one will live here. It will eventually get copied over to as a new one-shot in an existing story once the gods accept my fluff offering.

Mislabeled

AN: set after Therapy Has Paws, also includes a brief (very brief) look at Ace pregnant with #2

——

Emily hustles Henry inside for summer camp, a week of Lego Robotics while school is out. “Excited,” she asks with a smile as he skips merrily to the intake desk.

“I’m building dancing ducks today!”

“Maybe when I pick you up, you can show me your progress! I bet it will be super cool, bud.”

The woman at the desk can’t be out of college. She asks for Henry’s name twice. “Can I build Legos now,” he grumbles when it takes her longer than he thinks it should.

“Sorry, we don’t have grandparents on file. Can you tell me your name so I can register the adult who is dropping him off?”

“She’s not a grandma. She’s an imma,” Henry explains with growing annoyance that he’s still not surrounded by Legos. When the woman looks confused, Henry elaborates again. “Imma is like Mama or Mommy but in Arabic and Hebrew.”

“Right. Sorry,” the woman says sheepishly.

“I’m already on file. Emily Prentiss.”

“Right, yeah, I’ve got you checked in, Henry. You know where to go?” He rolls his eyes because obviously he knows where to go.

“Hey, come here,” Emily prompts, crouching to his level. He immediately reaches for her hair, twisting the shoulder-length, silvery locks between little fingers. It’s always been a soothing tactile sensation for him, given that all three of his grown ups have longer hair. “We can choose to be kind,” she reminds him in French. “Remember not everyone is familiar with how our family works, and that’s okay. It only has to make sense to us.”

“Okay, can I go now?” Emily nods, whispering her love as he clamors off towards the hallway. “Bye, Imma! Wait, wait!” He races back, wrapping his pinkie around hers. She kisses their joined fingers three times in rapid succession. “Okay, now bye!”

Emily watches long enough to make sure he gets to the correct door and then heads back to her car, ignoring the jab at her age. Or at least trying to.

All day long, she is shorter with people than she’d like to be. JJ calls her out on it mid-afternoon, and Emily is annoyed that she is letting such an insignificant comment from a young stranger affect her this much. “It’s nothing,” Emily insists. “Get back to work.” JJ scoffs humorously because they both know that phrase will not have the intended effect. “Jennifer.”

“It’s obviously something.”

Emily sighs, pressing her fingertips into her eyes. “It’s stupid. The lady at drop off thought I was Henry’s grandmother, and he corrected her with about as much attitude as your previous response in case we needed more evidence that he’s your son through and through.”

“I’m sorry that it hurt your feelings,” JJ sympathizes, ignoring the attempted deflection about Henry’s sass. “People should really get used to the silver vixen look being for any age, especially when you rock it so well.” Emily grumbles, and JJ realizes she’s not ready to hear physical compliments yet. “What’d you tell Henry?”

“The line about people not needing to understand our family and that we can choose to be kind.”

“Seems like you handled it well then, which is no surprise because you’re a great mother.” Emily hums a noncommittal sound. “I’m sorry it’s thrown you off balance today. We can help you level out later tonight,” JJ offers. “What else can I do, Em?” As expected, Emily brushes it off, and when she sends JJ back to her desk, the blonde actually listens.

When Emily arrives at pick up, she grumbles to realize how grateful she is that the incorrect stranger isn’t behind the desk. “I’m here for Henry Prentiss. I’m his mom. He should be in C1.” Another college student disappears to find him, returning with the child.

“Imma!” Emily easily swings him onto her hip, despite his lanky legs. He’s her boy after all. She scribbles out her signature and shows her ID to confirm her identity. As she gets Henry into his car seat, he yammers a mile a minute about all the things he built. “Me and Duncan are working on a pirate ship!”

“Duncan and I,” she corrects with a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re not building the Legos! I am! You gotta go work, and I get to play with Legos.”

“You’re spot on there, kiddo. Ready to get home to moms?”

“Can we get ice cream, Imma?” He flutters his eyelashes at her, and she chuckles, declining easily. “Please! I won’t tell!”

“Of course you would,” Emily laughs. “It’s the first thing you’d do. You’d run in, all hyped up on sugar, and giggle while you tell Mama our secret.” He shrugs with a toothy grin and emphasizes the please. “Pretty please is not going to help you now, but I do know we have ice cream in the freezer, so maybe have dinner we can have some.”

“Hmm.” Henry decides it’s a worthy compromise. “What’s Mama making?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Hen, but I’m sure it’ll be tasty.”

Henry is quiet in the backseat with the exception of his legs swinging in the open space. “Imma?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Why did the lady think you were my grandma? Does she know Mimi or Mémé?”

Emily’s knuckles whiten, as she tightens her hands around the steering wheel. “No. She doesn’t. She saw my gray hair and assumed I was someone else to you.” Henry’s little head tips to the side as he tries to understand. “She decided I looked a certain way, and to her, that meant I must be your grandparent instead of your parent.”

“Just cause your hair is silver? That’s what Mama and Mommy call it. It’s silver.” Emily’s chuckle is strained. For some reason this conversation aches. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and Mama says you’re like a superhero but you get the bad guys in real life.”

“Oh yeah?” Emily glances in the rearview mirror at her son, who looks out the window listing off characters left and right. Everyone from Storm to Quicksilver, Rogue to Black Cat. “What do you think of my silver hair?”

“It’s pretty, and it’s soft,” Henry answers seriously. “And superheroes have silver hair, and that’s cool,” he rambles. “Would you fly?”

“If I could have a superpower,” she clarifies. “Hmm. Good question. I’d like to teleport or make multiple copies of myself, so I could be home with you more. Would you fly?”

“I’d be like a basilisk lizard!”

“Okay,” Emily chuckles at his adorable boyish enthusiasm. “What superpower would that be?”

“In the Wild Kratts book, they have these webbed big feet, so they run really fast on water, and Mommy showed me a video and they’re really silly. I wanna run so so fast that I can run on water.”

“Hmm, that’s cool. I didn’t know that. If you want to be super fast, it seems like we should watch The Incredibles. It’s a kids’ movie about a family of superheroes, and they all have different powers. The little boy has super speed.”

“Cool! Can we watch it tonight?”

“Let’s check in with Mama and Mommy, and then we’ll decide. If not tonight, maybe for Family Movie Night this weekend,” Emily offers. Henry decides that’s amenable, and the rest of the drive is filled with song singing.

——

Once the garage door opens, Henry takes off at full speed, bursting through the house. “Dude! Shoes,” Ace calls. “Also, hi?”

“Hi Mama,” Henry replies, toeing off his shoes and kicking them in the general direction of the hall.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Backyard. C’mon, Goose!” The pup near your feet perks an ear up at his name. You nudge him, giving him the command to follow Henry. The rescue service dog trots in that direction. “Imma said ice cream for dinner!”

“Imma said no such thing,” Emily denies emphatically. “Stop getting me in trouble,” she playfully calls out to Henry. “I get in enough of that on my own, bud.” She leans her hip against the counter, her gaze heavy. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

“Nothing unusual. Jen told me some dick weasel got in your head.”

“That’s certainly a phrase,” Emily chuckles, her hair shifting like a curtain around her shoulders. “Actually Henry fixed it.” You arch your eyebrows. “A lot of superheroes have silver hair, and I was told specifically that it’s silver and not gray. He said you tell him I’m a superhero, so to him it makes sense. Plus he thinks it’s soft and pretty.”

“It is soft, and it is pretty,” you confirm, your hand warm on her cheek. “You seem more settled than JJ described.”

“I snapped at a few people in the office.” Your expression says you know she’s underestimating. “Fine.” As she acquiesces, Emily wraps you in a hug from behind, her chin on your shoulder to nuzzle your neck and her hands interlaced under your pregnant belly. “I snapped at a significant number of people today, but the drive home with Hen was good. It helped. Hearing you say the phrase ‘dick weasel’ also helped, and this smells like coq au vin. Are you going to be able to eat that, love?”

You shrug, leaning back into her stability and comfort. “I’ll do my best. Little Bit could use to eat something that isn’t a bland carb.”

“I don’t think Little Bit gives a shit,” Emily teases. “I can make you some plain pasta when your plan inevitably leads to nausea. Where are the kicks today?” You take her hand, sliding along the underside of your belly to the spot where growing little feet bump you from the inside out.

“They’re calmer now though that I’m up moving. Heaven forbid I sit down for a few minutes, then Little Bit decides to throw a rave in Mama’s belly, huh?”

“Definitely JJ’s kid then,” Emily snarks. “Neither of us are the dance party type people.”

“I don’t know you’ve been known to dance around if the right people ask.”

“Don’t make me tickle you,” she threatens. “I’ll wash my hands and take over. You sit. I can make you some tea.”

With one hand at your lower back, Emily guides you to one of the bar stools. You watch the way her blouse ripples and flutters perfectly around her chest and stomach as she pulls her silvery locks into a low ponytail. She rolls her sleeves, puts the kettle on, and then turns to look at you. “Okay, where were you? Walk me through it.”

“You’re beautiful,” you say instead. Nothing else, nothing verbose or elaborate. Emily glances down at her outfit, briefly trying to understand what you’re seeing after her day fraught with insecurity. Her lips curve in a genuine smile at the simple compliment. You can see it relax her body a bit.

“Coq au vin,” Emily prompts again through her smile.

For whatever JJ was worried about, Emily is at baseline, and your home feels like it’s filled with the warm, stable tenderness you adore.

#a03 writer #ace in the hole fic #jj x emily x ace #answered #jemily x reader #cm fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #fic request #ace in the hole family fic #writer actually wrote fluff!

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misshoneyimhome · 16 hours ago

Note

This prompt screams William “seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place” 😭😭

Oh absolutely, love! That is so William 😜 Even though I feel like I’ve written this before… oh well, that won’t stop me from doing it again 🤭 I had several ideas fir this, but I was in a soft mood - so, who’s ready for some lazy, soft morning lovemaking with our boyfriend, wn88?

Tropes & warnings: William Nylander x reader, established relationship, morning sex, Smut 18+, unprotected sex (p in v - please, remember to wrap it up)

Word count: 2.1K

➼｡ﾟ

Adore me, hold me and explore me I William Nylander

The warm morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the room. You stirred under the covers, the soft sheets tangled around your naked body, and the tell-tale ache in your neck—a mix of tenderness and thrilling satisfaction—reminded you of the night before. A lazy smile curled your lips as you shifted closer to the warm, firm, naked body beside you, your fingers brushing against William’s chest. His skin felt like silk over muscle, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a comfort.

He was already awake, lounging against the pillows, the phone in his hand forgotten as his gaze settled on you. The tousled blonde strands of his hair caught the sunlight, making him look impossibly soft and radiant, though his blue eyes held a mischievous glint that hinted at anything but softness.

“Morning,” you murmured, your voice husky with sleep. As you moved under the sheets, your body brushed fully against his, the warmth of his bare skin sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning, älskling,” he replied, his voice deep and melodic. He set his phone aside and shifted closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, trailing down your cheek to your neck, where he paused, his thumb ghosting over a particularly tender spot, and his smirk widening.

You froze slightly under his touch, the gentle pressure of his fingers that made last night’s memories flood back with vivid clarity. The way his mouth had teased and claimed you, the way his hands had roamed your body like he was memorizing every inch of it—it was all still etched into your skin, and clearly, he had noticed.

His lips quirked upward, his smirk growing wider. “Hmm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in contemplation, his thumb brushing lightly over one of the faint marks. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

You swatted his hand away, laughing softly as you tried to hide your growing blush. “Oh, stop it. You’re so full of yourself,” you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

William chuckled, his voice deep and rich, as he shifted his weight to lean closer. “Come on. You don’t like seeing the proof?” His tone was playful, but the way his eyes darkened hinted at something much more dangerous.

Your heart raced under his gaze. “It’s not like I can exactly hide them, thanks to you,” you replied, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that made the room feel even warmer. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips grazing the marks on your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t remember how these got here?” he murmured; his breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed hard, unable to suppress the wave of heat that surged through you. Oh, you remembered. You remembered how he’d kissed you last night like he couldn’t get enough, the way his hands gripped your hips as if he were anchoring himself to you. You remembered his breathless laughter against your neck, the sound of your name rolling off his lips like it was the only thing he cared to say.

“Of course, I remember,” you whispered, your voice almost too soft to hear.

William pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own glimmering with a mix of playfulness and desire.

“Good,” he said simply, his grin widening. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And before you could respond, his lips were on your neck again, his kisses slow and deliberate as he trailed over each mark. You felt his body shift against yours under the sheets, the weight of him pressing you back into the mattress. The heat of his skin against yours was overwhelming, and when his teeth grazed the sensitive spots, you couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

“Will…” you whispered; your voice shaky as his kisses deepened. His body pressed closer, the sheets rustling around you as his slowly growing hardness brushed against your inner thigh. The heat of him sent a rush of electricity through you, leaving you breathless. His warmth enveloped you, his touch purposeful and unrelenting as his hands roamed your skin, caressing every curve like he was rediscovering you all over again.

His lips lingered on your neck, trailing over the love marks with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. “Mmm,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and thick with desire. “I think we can make a few more of these…”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arched into his. The sensation of him pressing against you, firm and insistent, made your pulse quicken. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as his kisses travelled to the hollow of your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot that made your breath hitch.

“Will…” you tried again, but the words dissolved into a soft moan as he shifted between your legs, forcing them apart as he aligned his length with your core under the sheets. The growing tension between you was palpable, each touch drawing you closer to the edge.

Then his lips found yours, capturing them in a kiss that was both demanding and full of reverence. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of you, the intimacy of his body against yours—the way his skin felt against yours, the weight of him pressing you deeper into the mattress—was intoxicating, moments blurring the lines between where he ended, and you began.

Your breaths mingled as his lips left yours, trailing down your jawline and back to your neck. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of your skin. His lips lingered on the marks he had left, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his hand slid from the sheets to your thigh. His touch was firm yet tender, his fingers spreading warmth wherever they roamed as they gripped your hip, anchoring you securely to him.

“Willy…” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his blue eyes searching yours for permission, for connection. The intimacy of his gaze made your breath hitch, and you reached up to cradle his face, nodding softly as a small smile graced your lips.

With painstaking care, he pressed his cock against your entrance. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of anticipation, heat, and the kind of vulnerability that only came with trust. Slowly, purposefully, he began to push inside you, his movements careful as he watched your face for every reaction.

The stretch was delicious, a perfect blend of ache and fullness that made your fingers tighten in his hair. A soft moan escaped your lips as he sank deeper, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, grounding you as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the sensation.

“This feels good?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, tinged with concern despite the heat in his eyes.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his back to pull him closer. “It’s perfect,” you whispered, your voice breathless but certain.

A soft smile played on his lips before he leaned down, kissing you deeply, his body beginning to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was measured, unhurried, as though he wanted to savour every second, every sound you made, every tremor of your body beneath his.

The friction, the heat, the sheer closeness of him—it was intoxicating. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as his movements grew more confident, more insistent. His lips never strayed far from yours, alternating between soft kisses and whispered words that made your heart race even faster.

“You’re amazing. And you’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and full of adoration. “I fucking love the way you feel… the way you let me love you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, and you arched into him, your hands clutching at his back as his rhythm quickened. The world around you faded into a blur of sensation—the sound of your breaths mingling, the way your bodies moved together, the undeniable connection that bound you in that moment.

As the tension built, your body responded instinctively to his, your nails grazing his shoulders as waves of pleasure began to crest. His name slipped from your lips in a breathless whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. His gaze locked with yours, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire, the connection between you tangible and electric.

The rhythm of his movements deepened, deliberate and unrelenting, as he felt your body tighten around him. The sensation made him groan softly, his breath hitching as his own restraint began to waver. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of you, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back, determined to keep you teetering on the edge a moment longer.

“Willy…” Your voice broke, your body arching into his as the pressure became almost unbearable. “I’m gonna—” The words dissolved into a moan, your breath stolen as the pleasure overtook you, sending a ripple of sensation through every nerve.

He felt the change, your body trembling beneath him, and the way you clenched around him pushed him dangerously close to his own release. “That’s it, come for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice strained but soft, a reverence in his tone that made your heart swell even as your body was consumed by the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

His movements faltered slightly, his own control slipping as the intensity of your release pulled him under. His head dipped, his lips finding the curve of your neck as he groaned against your skin, the sound low and guttural as his own climax surged through him. His hands left the sheets, one sliding to cradle your face while the other gripped your waist, holding you close as he poured himself into you completely.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The sunlight painted golden patterns across the room, your breaths mingling as your bodies remained entwined, hearts racing in unison. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he caught his breath.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.

Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your shared intimacy. “I know,” you teased, your voice soft and playful despite the lingering haze of satisfaction.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he pulled out of you, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to prolong every second of your closeness. He shifted, pulling you into his embrace under the sheets. His arms wrapped around you, strong and protective, his chest a solid warmth against your back. His body moulded perfectly to yours, the sheets tangling further around your legs as he nestled into you.

“I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the warmth of his words sinking into your skin as surely as his embrace surrounded you.

You tilted your head slightly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Is that why you mark me?” you asked, your tone light but laced with affection.

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, his voice tinged with pride. One of his hands moved, his fingers brushing gently over the fading marks on your neck. “You look perfect like this… with my marks on you. It’s like a little reminder that you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver through you, the possessive edge tempered by the tenderness in his voice. You turned in his arms to face him, your eyes locking with his. The intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world, made your breath hitch.

“I don’t think I could ever forget that I’m yours,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

He leaned into your touch, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and filled with promise. When he pulled back, his smirk returned, playful but still full of adoration. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But I think I’ll keep reminding you anyway.”

You laughed softly; the sound muffled as you buried your face in his chest. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. The warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the weight of his love wrapped around you like a cocoon.

And as the morning sunlight continued to filter into the room, you found yourself perfectly content, safe and cherished in the arms of the man who had left his mark on your heart as much as your skin.

#my asks #18+ smut #wn88 imagine #William Nylander x reader #William Nylander imagine #William Nylander smut #Toronto maple leafs imagine #Toronto maple leafs fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl romance

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raphsmuneca · 14 hours ago

Text

Smooches

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ 💋 ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

⚠️18+ • soft smut • inappropriate behavior • dirty lingo • short-shorts • Tmnt bayverse⚠️ Tmnt Bay Leo x reader (aged 30+) <- my preference 🫶🏼

@thelaundrybitch this quickie is for you 😉 😎 😜

💖A pre-valentine treat 💖

You’ve been teasing him for far too long. Is he afraid? Fuck no. If you thought so then you were sorely mistaken. He’s not the prude you believe him to be. He’s a gentleman, that’s all. NOT! He may have been the respectable soldier, but beneath the surface, he was every bit a man.

He decided it was time to put an end to your facade. It was shortly after you waved your goodbyes. You navigated through the tunnels for a whole of two minutes then you felt a sudden tug.

He swiftly pulled you in, spun you around and pinned you, face first, against the stone cold wall. He covered your mouth with one large left hand before you yelped. Your face was turned to the right of you where he met you, snout to nose. His labored breathing and tense muscles were obvious indicators that he was rapidly reconsidering his impulsive action. You felt his warm plastron through the thin fabric against your back.

You were freaking out, but held your composure. You’ve been aching for his nearness for a long time, but you never expected this! Did he think you a traitor? You had to let him know you were very much his friend and would never do anything to jeopardize…wait. What’s this? His cock (which was the length and width of your forearm) pressed against your buttocks. Your mind experienced a nuclear explosion. It suddenly became empty. Your ghost sought refuge in the high heavens. What in the holy fuck is going on right now?!

His hands were tracing a path up and down your thighs, extending to the contours of your hips and the indentation of your exposed navel. You let out a whimper. His touch generated a burning sensation on your skin, wherever he touched, you felt yourself sinking deeper.

“You thought you had me all figured out, huh?” He nuzzled against your nose and face. “Mmm…What if I tell you I wish to steal a kiss from you?” He released his left hand so that you may speak. You would have replied, except that you were momentarily breathless and feared you’d collapse right then. Instead, you licked your lips.

Your thoughts vanished the instant he bit your lower lip. The way your pussy pulsed just then. Ohmygahh. Fksksjdbsyhsbs!!!! The sensation of the thick annuli encircling his scutes against the small of your back was a potent reminder of how real the moment was. He took another bite. And another. He then proceeded to leave trails of saliva up and down your neck, eventually taking advantage of your open mouth to thrust his tongue deep into your throat. His lips enveloped yours, tongues rhythmically entwining in a fervent quest.

He stopped and pivoted you to face him. The massive terrapin rose high above you. You felt unusually tiny all of a sudden. He gently lifted your chin upward with the tip of his index finger. You became captivated by the depth of his sapphire eyes. You could easily become lost in their beauty. What a fantastical creature. Your knees weakened and you began to lose balance, but he quickly caught you and positioned you over his massive frame. You let out a huff once you settled into place, straddling him.

He lowered his head and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your burning cheeks. “Open your mouth for me again.” (Yes daddy!) In comparison his mouth and tongue were wide, yet he managed to work around your smaller mouth to artfully deliver delectable kisses. The moment was raw, your womanhood was ablaze, but his broad arms kept you in place. The feel of his rugged skin against your smooth one was bewitching.

To have Leo all over you like this was enthralling. What prompted his shift from a stern, inflexible leader to this ravenous turtle man? Regardless of the answer, the less you were concerned as he tenderly kissed your mouth and down your neck and slightly into the hollow of your bosom and back up again. Your hips began a slow, rhythmic motion. You hadn’t acknowledged it until he cupped your waist in his hold and brought you nearer, allowing you to feel his firmness against your inner thighs. Breaking away from his fervent kiss, a hasty "Oh!" escaped your mouth. You hid your face in his chest, attempting to mask your embarrassment.

“Don’t be shy, baby. You know you like it.”

At that you punched him in the chest.

“That tickles you know?”

His chuckle was soft, but you were too proud and feigned annoyance.

He too was skilled in this game. His smile disappeared. He looked even hungrier than before. His stare grew more intense. His mouth started to water. He licked his lips and launched a more ferocious attack on your mouth this time. This kiss was distinct. It possessed greater passion. Something you said or did must have triggered him. This kiss wasn't driven by lust like the previous one. It was more profound. It was ardent and all-consuming.

You were once again enveloped in his affectionate grasp. Your hips began to sway at a more rapid pace. In a short time, your body was seized by a powerful physical response, induced by the erotic pleasure of the intimate bodily contact. He knew what he was doing. He was aware of his actions. He took pleasure in witnessing your vulnerability around him. It turned him on when you challenged him, but he needed to set the record straight.

“Next time you tease me, just know I’ll be waiting for you.”

OMFG! You got gotten!

With a wink, he left you in your disheveled state, mouth agape.

“Damn you, Leo.”

A residual string of words escaped his mouth before he vanished quickly.

“Tonight I stole a kiss. Tomorrow I steal your heart.”

You looked in the direction from which the reverberated words echoed. There was no discernible shape, only whispers. You were uncertain whether to be grateful for the intense heat you both shared, however brief, or shocked by this new revelation. Was he in love with you?

“You’ve already done that…”

You spoke the words, aware that there was no one nearby to hear them. Leo had already departed. He was that quick. You collected your thoughts and smoothed your hair with your fingers. Following a brief moment to compose yourself, you turned and headed back towards your home.

Except you were mistaken. He was present throughout, observing from the shadows. His heartbeat was irregular. Your words left him astonished. He was satisfied with himself. He had claimed you as his own from the beginning, even if you didn't reciprocate his emotions. The act of stealing your kiss was merely his attempt to confirm whether his suspicions were correct and that you shared his feelings.

He promptly returned to his quarters. He hadn’t quite finished his task when he released you. He engaged in self-pleasuring in your name. In the aftermath of said sweet release, he reflected on his next move.

♥*♡∞:｡.｡ 💋 ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

@the-cauldron-witch @ninnosaurus @iridescentflamingo @ferox-imagines @sophiacloud28 @milykins @adebauchedsloth @justalotoffanfiction @thepinkpanther83 @dilucsflame33 @foxflamewarrior @m1dnyt3-w0lf @eveandtheturtles @inspiredwriter @replicasey @akari180 @iheartchv @leosgirl82 @fyreball66 @moonlightflower21 @happymoonangel @imthegreenfairy86

・𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭/𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓵𝓶𝓴! ・

𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!

#Smooches #tmnt bayverse #Tmnt leo bayverse #Tmnt leo x reader #not my finest but wanted to throw something out there #raphsmunecafanfic #tmnt aged up

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yanderes-galore · 3 days ago

Note

Maybe a scenario of Javier escuella (rdr2) with Prompts 1, 22 by starbabytae?

Excited to see what other people request

Ah yes, Javier engaging in his delusional little hobby. Here you go ^^

Prompts Here

Yandere! Javier Escuella Prompts 1 + 22

“I saw you last night, you looked beautiful.”

“I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Javier watches you sleep, Creepy behavior, Possessive behavior, Violence (Suffocation), Forced/Dubious relationship.

You had become his latest fixation on the nights he couldn't sleep.

Even when the stars are out and the fire dies down... Javier has found his mind wandering. Usually it's the typical worries, he sometimes wonders about his old home... or where the gang will end up next due to the Pinkertons. However...

He hasn't been kept up due to thinking of someone so deeply before.

It's wrong, he knows it's wrong... Yet Javier can't help it. During the day you have always provided him pleasant company. Even at night, when he's stressed in his tent, he thinks of you to ease the nerves.

The first time he did it... it was by accident. Your tent was fully covered and he kept glancing at you in your bedroll while he tuned his guitar. You looked so peaceful...

So calm....

Since then he had made it a ritual of his. When you went to bed at night he'd wait an hour or two before approaching. Once he did, he'd kneel by your side... maybe even move his own bed closer to yours just to have an excuse.

You could ask him about it, wanting to know why he moved. He grins and tells you not to worry about it. His tent is a bit... worn.

If it isn't he may just sabotage it to sell his excuse.

His touch is gentle when you sleep. He watches you nap with a small smile. He likes to lay beside you, gently touching your skin or holding you close when he can get away with it.

Javier had become... obsessed with this little tradition of his. You made him forget all of his problems... both at day and at night. He hates that you're unaware...

Yet he also can't seem to get rid of the habit.

Soon it escalates to not only when you're sleeping. He knows your nightly routine by heart. He watches your every move... would this make him a creep? Yes...

But he's done worse, maybe even for you.

Javier has always been careful when not getting caught. He had excuses and carefully planned responses. He's like an addict... willing to do anything to keep his addiction.

Unfortunately...

Javier should've known someone wouldn't stay quiet. Someone must've told you about his nightly behavior. After all, he was careful...!

Yet you woke up quickly one night to find Javier standing over you, eyes staring down at you like a hungry coyote.

You go to sleep, but Javier quickly shushes you and covers your mouth. You feel pinned to your bedroll as Javier uses his strength to hold you down. Desperation flashes in his eyes... along with irritation.

"Shhh... be quiet... it's okay... you know I don't mean any harm, love...." Javier whispers, trying to encourage you to stay quiet. "What I'm doing is harmless...."

You stare at him with wide eyes. It reminds him of a cornered deer, defenseless in his hands. It... makes him feel oddly giddy.

“I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s... peaceful, you know?” Javier murmurs, as though he's embarrassed yet also trying to convince you it's okay. There's a long silence between you...

Only for you to struggle again, making Javier tighten his hold to hide his activities from the rest of the gang.

"C'mon... listen to me, dear!" Javier pleads, forcing your head down even as you try to nip him. “I-I saw you last night, you looked beautiful...”

You freeze when Javier hovers a hand around your neck, grip threatening to suffocate you. You stop struggling... causing Javier to sigh in relief. Afterwards he presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you closer.

"I couldn't help myself... the first time I saw you, you were adorable. You looked so calm... I said I wouldn't do it again... but..." Javier confesses, tilting your head up to look at him. "I couldn't look away... I didn't want to... You're my guilty pleasure, darling... So, please, don't push me away... You'll sleep better with me watching over you."

Javier's words are ignored by you as you try to pry his hands away. Javier frowns in response, hating you look so tense. He loves it when you're asleep... but you're too rowdy now...

He needs to fix this.

"... Sorry, darling... I'll see you in the morning and maybe we can talk about this..." Javier whispers...

Only for him to restrict your airflow.

You struggle, fight, and kick him... yet screaming is out of the question. You can't get enough air to breathe and struggling wastes what you have. You slowly begin to give in... letting the darkness reclaim you with a strangled noise.

Javier says nothing, eyes dark as he watches you drift into unconsciousness. Once you no longer fight, Javier slips beside your bedroll and holds you close. This is all he wanted...

Now he can continue to see your serene sleeping face... along with kissing your sleepy head...

Maybe he can convince you this was all a nightmare in the morning...?

#yandere red dead redemption #yandere rdr2 #yandere javier escuella #yandere javier escuella x reader

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kostektyw · 2 days ago

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happy truce @maxattax!! I used your prompt about Valerie finding Phantom injured and deciding to help him. Hope you enjoy!

It was the afternoon and with every second Valerie was regretting getting up that morning more and more.

First she woke up with what seemed like a beginning of a cold, just enough of a sore throat and a headache to be unpleasant, but not really serious to make her miss school without feeling guilty about it. So she got up, got ready, and arrived just in time for first period and a history quiz she was completely unprepared for. Then right at the end of lunch her equipment detected a ghost nearby, but when she got there it had already been handled by Phantom, so she didn’t even get to blow off steam and still ended up being late.

So now she was stuck in detention, feeling her cold slowly getting worse and quietly missing the days when she would’ve blamed Phantom for all of it, kicked his ass and went home satisfied.

Well, alright, not really missing. She did appreciate his help in many situations, and even if they weren’t exactly friends, it was still comforting to have an ally who understood some aspects of her job. It just... had been easier back then. And definitely less awkward. He may be a fellow teenager – or at least teenager-shaped – but that did not help with the fact that he was also a dead guy and she did not know how to deal with dead people. Except with violence.

She sighed yet again, trying to focus on her homework instead of cringing at her attempts at small talk with Phantom earlier.

Until a loud sound startled everyone in the room.

Guess the homework wasn’t meant to be. The sound seemed to be coming from elsewhere in the school, a falling roof or wall perhaps? Either way, she should be getting out there.

After using the commotion to sneak out, she quickly equipped her suit and flew through the school into the gym to find a giant sinkhole. That seemed to be still growing. That was... probably related to ghosts, somehow. She tried looking into the hole when suddenly the ground shook, she felt her feet slipping on the hoverboard and then everything went black.

Valerie opened her eyes and found herself in a tunnel.

Wait, that wasn’t right, wasn’t she falling into a sinkhole? But here she was, between two brick walls and under one brick ceiling, the passages in both directions branching out and turning. It vaguely reminded her of catacombs she saw in movies, except that did not make any sense in Amity Park, because it wasn’t supposed to have those.

Then again, many things did not make sense in Amity Park, and yet still happened.

Deciding that’s a problem for future Valerie, she picked a direction at random and started walking, ecto gun in hand. The tunnels weren’t exactly tight, but the space was still limited, so she’d prefer to be prepared for a fight. Especially since unlike her, a ghost wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into a wall.

Speaking of ghosts, there was something green glowing on the floor. It didn’t take a very close look for her to recognize liquid ectoplasm, forming a trail down one of the paths. There was a couple possibilities what it could mean, including a trap, but well, at least it was something. So she followed it. The drops seemed to be getting more frequent until she encountered its’ source.

Good news: it was Phantom. It was a bit of a relief to encounter a familiar face in this maze. Unfortunately there was also bad news: he seemed to be in a bad shape, slumped by the wall, covered in cuts and bruised, his face scrunched up tightly in pain while holding his side. He hadn’t even noticed her before she ran up to him.

“Phantom? What happened to you?”

“Val? Ah, ouch,” he winced and adjusted his posture, “what are you doing here, you’re not supposed to be here!”

“Excuse you-” She started offended, but he interrupted her with placating gesture.

“No, I mean, you know we’re trapped by a ghost, right? Well, he’s kinda after me.”

“I’m still here though, and you know I’m not one for sitting out a fight. Are you okay? You look rough. What happened to you?”

Phantom sighed, clearly reluctant to explain. “I’ve been better. And, uh, it’s kinda a long story...”

She let him rest for a minute while she looked over him and debated what to do. He probably would be okay, but should they wrap up his wounds? Can ghosts get infections? She left her first aid kit in her locker, and even then who knows if that would work on a ghost...

It was strange feeling so worried about Phantom, when not long ago she would only think of him as her mortal enemy. Even if her getting into this mess was an accident, she still wanted to help him, like an ally, maybe even a friend.

“I want to hear that story, but first, um, just to make sure, are you gonna bleed out? Can you bleed out? I don’t have any bandages or anything...”

Phantom seemed to be considering something then looked at her, unsure. “I might have some, but not without making the story longer. Promise you won’t be mad?”

She didn’t get to answer before a bright light temporarily blinded her, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw...

“Fenton?!” Right there, in the same spot as Phantom, sat her living human friend, now bruised in purple and red. He scratched his neck awkwardly, before taking off his backpack and pulling out a big first aid kit. He put it between them, as if a shield from her reaction.

Her normal first instinct would probably be anger. But it was already a long day, she was tired, sick, and worried about her friend, so she just reached into the kit and started taking in the supplies.

Questions were lining up in her head but for now she just smiled at her friend gently.

“You weren’t kidding with the long story. Take your time.”

#kostek original #phandom truce 2024 #danny phantom #danny fenton #valerie gray

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glowing-blue-feathermage · 10 hours ago

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happy DADWC Friday :) sending you “You were always on my mind.” for Fenhawke

Ty for the prompt!! I've been thinking about Fenhawke post DAV, and I think I'll put a little series of snippets from my thoughts into some Fenhawke prompts on Tumblr for @dadrunkwriting! This will be #1, and I'll link the rest (so feel free to send more Fenhawke prompts, folks!) Under a cut, because Veilguard spoilers. Vague, but still there.

Night had given way to the sharp edge of a winter dawn while Fenris sat in the chair beside the frost-painted window. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, but he hadn’t slept even a moment of the long, dark night. He could feel the circles under his eyes, the skin heavy, his vision blurry with exhaustion. Even as he blinked and scrubbed his face with a hand trembling from the abundance of coffee he’d consumed, the reason for his vigil stirred in the bed several feet away. Something unknotted in Fenris’s chest as Hawke stretched his arms over his head, curled one around the pillow that should have been Fenris’s, and pulled it closer. He buried his face in it, shoulders shifting with the inhalation of breath. Just as quickly, he saw those same muscles tense, stiffen, and then the pillow was shoved aside. Hawke shot up in bed, the blankets pooling at his waist, exposing so many scars across his torso. Some Fenris remembered. Others he thought were new, but he wasn’t ready to ask. Their eyes met and it was like Hawke had taken a punch to the gut; the air rushed out of his lungs and his shoulders slumped. A look of chagrin replaced the naked fear on his handsome face and he tried to fit a smile onto his lips. “You’re still here,” he said, taking another deep breath. He’d said the same thing the morning before, and the one prior to that. “Still here,” Fenris promised again, finally rising from his chair, stiff muscles protesting. He crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge, and they looked at one another. It still felt like a dream. It had been ten years since Fenris had received that letter in Kirkwall, since he’d burned Varric’s story into his mind. Hawke, the man he loved, left in the Fade. Left behind in the one place Fenris could not reach him. And then the Blight had come, and the world had been poisoned, and the Veil ripped asunder. He’d read another tale in a letter from the Inquisitor, about another death, and another prison in the Fade, and the woman who'd freed herself from it. The Inquisitor had borne a bone-deep regret for Hawke’s loss that may not have rivaled Fenris’s, but it drove them both to the same end; into the Fade, into Nightmare’s prison. Hawke reached out for him with one hand and Fenris took it, sighing with relief when he felt the mortal warmth enclose his fingers. The tightness in Hawke’s features smoothed as well at the contact. “Ten years,” Hawke murmured, blue-gray eyes searching his face. “It seemed like…days. Weeks maybe. In there. And yet after all this time, you remembered me.” Fenris squeezed his fingers. “You were always on my mind,” he promised, feeling an answering weight in his chest. “Every day.” Hawke nodded, eyes flicking to the window. The look on his face reminded Fenris of how he’d felt just after escaping Danarius—free but unsure what to do with it, unsure if it would last. It was why panic flooded Hawke when he woke, until they touched, and why Fenris couldn’t sleep. A need to make sure it was all still real.

#dragon age #fenhawke #fenris #hawke #male hawke #Fade prison stuff #Veilguard spoilers #post Dragon Age Veilguard

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llondonfog · 1 year ago

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This is such a weird, RANDOM, and long ask (more like a rant tbh), but I wanted to say something because I can't get it out of my head.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER.

Before you boo me, I COULDN'T HELP IT. I just, can't get it out of my brain.

Like, Lilia just wakes up one day, sees this mini horror in Silver's bedroom, and freaks out before realizing that IS Silver.

Everything he knew about Silver's parents is a lie.

Then, Silver transforms back, but part way, so he has these cute little wings with soft, white feathers, and Lilia just MELTS.

He's freaked out, amazed, confused, but he wants to comfort Silver, who is both confused and possibly in pain from the transformation. Growing wings seems painful.

Like, he had 6 wings (3 sets of 2) in the horror-fest form that is a Biblically Accurate Angel (I both encourage and warn you against searching that up lol), and now he has 2-4 wings (possibly with the feathers attached to his head as Seraphim Angels have. I think). Compared to his default human body, that's a big difference, right?

Anyway, I wanted to share this with someone. You don't have to do anything with this, or even respond, but THE IMAGE. I love Silver and he's already angelic, so might as well add a Horrifying version of that, AND pretty wings in the more "normal" version. I just can't write or draw my vision LMAO so I have to cope with sharing it instead.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER IM IN LOVE????

BABY SILVER WITH BABY ANGEL WINGS!!! oh they are so soft and fluffy, like dreams and clouds and silk all at once!! the imagery of him draping them over lilia while they nap or simply shielding him from the sun with one as he gets older....my heart!!!

And then considering the imagery of extremely pissed off biblically accurate silver protecting his loved ones against any who would seek to bring them harm!!! Absolutely terrifying to behold!! I don't know why I'm partial to the specific one of the large eye surrounded by countless wings but that's what I think of!! All those wings to sweep up and protect his loved ones, and more to deal out powerful blows of damage, with one dizzying aurora-hued eye that can seem like the most gentle gaze that allows you to simply bask in unconditional acceptance or the most horrific choking sense of inevitable judgement for what you've done against the word of good.

FANTASTIC CONCEPT I WISH I COULD DRAW IT

on the other hand, the thought of lilia being in such awe and wonder of his child, this pure and innocent being who has been granted to him, who loves him unconditionally and uses his powers to make lilia's life kinder and easier as silver tries to take away the aches and pains and nightmares... I could see it verging into a cult of two territory; lilia being very protective and possessive of his son, the thought of throwing himself into service to protect the boy?angel?savior? at any and all costs, to be his knight in shining armor to keep him safe and unsullied from the world. silver becoming like this odd forest deity creature who pours his magic so willingly into the woods and gives freely to those that need his kindness, and his father is only too happy to kneel to him, renewed in his purpose to serve his benevolent, angelic son...

#lettie's asks #twst silver #twst lilia #twisted wonderland silver #lilia vanrouge #diasomnia #ahhhhh these helped me through my cramps ❤️❤️#I have so many thoughts on various silver is an angel aus ok #lilia deserves a little sweet guardian angel<3 #if i do prompts again remind me of this...

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weirdglassthing · 3 months ago

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LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

#the good or bad thing depending on who you ask about my ship art is that there are many more ranting tags #once again bringing my “he can’t blush but what if he did’’ agenda #Ngl the first panel reminds me of a children’s book it’s kind of fire #I feel like frost doesn’t like being touched by most people #but then he meets gricko professional animal friend and he’s so confused bc wtf why doesn’t he hate this #so that’s the drawing #sighs fondly confused grimmorning #except frost is the only one that’s confused #Im not joking when I say this one took me a long time I started it the day before the prompt and finished it like a week later #unintentional but frost is doing the Jim halpert thing #he wasn’t supposed to be but it turned out that way #frost don’t Jim the fourth wall.. community reference yeah..#I keep forgetting gricko tail agenda #also I love all the requests I’ve been getting once shiptober is over those will be popping up #anyways that’s enough out of me #but seriously some of those requests are so good they’re actually inspiring me to finish these pieces #legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #morning frost #gricko grimgrin #grimmorning #gricko x frost #OH last thing possible stardust rhapsody art on the way I have to share my dandy art with the world

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pastafossa · 3 months ago

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"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he?

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door.

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring.

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional.

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless.

Asleep.

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him.

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he?

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused.

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh.

You were wearing his shirt.

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned.

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest.

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied.

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down.

Gentle.

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you.

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep.

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him.

God, your scent.

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you.

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt.

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids.

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe.

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit.

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips.

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too.

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?”

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him.

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it?

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter.

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours, ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat.

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again.

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan.

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken.

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets.

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep.

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more.

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep.

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both.

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep.

Satisfied with what he’d given you.

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist.

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

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