#this hair is exactly what i pictured him having

[thewulf]

Daddy's Pancakes || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - I have this huge love for my dad's pancakes and now have this idea of Jake and reader having a daughter who's favorite food is Daddy's pancakes.

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! My goal is to write 3-4 of these a month. Missed you all. Also this is just disgustingly sweet. So sweet. This is a world where Aaron is home on the weekends :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: None

Golden sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains, warm and bright, brushing over your skin as it stirred you from the depths of sleep. The air was alive with the familiar aroma of pancakes carrying with it the quiet promise of a peaceful Saturday morning. You lingered for a moment with your eyes closed, savoring the stillness, knowing exactly what awaited you just down the hall. Standing slowly and wrapping yourself in the robe behind the door you made your way down the hall.

The sounds of laughter drifted to you as you moved closer to the kitchen. The quiet hum of Aaron’s voice so steady and warm mingled with your daughter’s bright, bubbling giggles. You paused at the doorway and leaned against the frame to take it all in. The sight was as familiar as it was heart-melting. Aaron stood at the stove, a picture of quiet confidence. His broad frame relaxed as he flipped a pancake with an effortless precision that spoke of years of practice. He wore that old FBI sweatshirt you had tried to get rid of so many time with the cuffs slightly frayed. Loose pajama pants hung just so on his hips. His hair was a little disheveled, a reminder that the morning had started early for him. The sunlight caught on the planes of his face, softening the sharp lines into something achingly tender as he glanced down at the little girl sitting on the counter beside him. Your little girl.

Your daughter was the perfect blend of energy and focus. Her small hands clutching a whisk that looked far too large for her to manage. Batter spattered the counter, her legs swinging beneath her in a steady rhythm, the occasional thud of her small feet against the cabinets punctuating her giggles. Aaron’s hand rested gently over hers, trying and failing to guide her movements. His patience unshakable even as the bowl tilted precariously with her enthusiasm.

The kitchen itself told the story of their morning: a dusting of flour scattered across the counter, chocolate chips spilled in uneven piles, and a single stray blueberry precariously close to the edge. A half-empty can of whipped cream stood amidst the chaos. It was a quiet testament to the playful antics that had undoubtedly ensued. You couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, the sound drawing both of their gazes toward you. Your daughter’s face lit up the moment she saw you. Her eyes wide with delight as she scrambled to hop off the counter. She launched herself into your arms without hesitation, sticky hands, and all. The warmth of her small body pressing against yours.

“Good morning, my little pancake expert,” you murmured. Your voice low and affectionate as you smoothed her hair and kissed her flour-dusted cheek. Her giggles vibrated against your chest, the sound a balm to your soul. Aaron turned then, glancing over his shoulder as he set a perfectly golden pancake onto the growing stack beside him. His eyes softened as they met yours with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was something in his gaze, familiar and unspoken, that always made your breath catch. A quiet reminder of everything you’d built together.

The three of you moved as if in a rhythm. The routine ingrained yet somehow always fresh. Aaron handed your daughter a small bowl of blueberries and she carefully scattered them onto a pancake with the focus of an artist adding the final touches to their masterpiece. He guided her with quiet words and steady hands, showing her how to pour syrup without flooding the plate. The two of them were a study in patience and love, their bond evident in every small gesture.

You watched them, your heart full, as Aaron slid a plate toward you. The stack of pancakes golden and topped with a generous drizzle of syrup and fresh fruit. He sat beside you, his hand brushing yours briefly, a simple touch that carried more weight than words ever could.

Your daughter’s voice broke the quiet hum of the moment. Her pride radiating as she declared, “This one’s the best, Mommy. Daddy helped me make it special for you.”

You smiled. Your chest tightening in that bittersweet way only love could manage as you took a bite. The flavors melted on your tongue—sweet, warm, and impossibly perfect. “Mmm,” you hummed while looking at Aaron and then at her. “It’s everything I could’ve hoped for. You two make the best team.”

Aaron leaned back slightly. His gaze lingering on you as he reached for his coffee. The way his eyes softened, the faint curve of his lips. Neither needed words to convey what he felt in that moment. And as you sat there with the sunlight pooling over the table the sound of your daughter’s laughter filling the room you couldn’t imagine a more perfect morning.

You sat at the kitchen table savoring the last bite of your pancake as the sunlight bathed the room. Your daughter who was back perched on the counter was happily adding toppings to the pancakes she had made for Jack. She had been so proud of her work, carefully stacking each pancake and decorating them with swirls of syrup, a scattering of blueberries, and just a few chocolate chips, “Not too many, Mommy, or they’ll be too sweet,” she had declared with all the seriousness of a master chef she told you as you came to see what she was up to.

As you watched her, you smiled softly. “Are these for Jack?” you asked while leaning forward on your elbows. “You know he’s going to want to try them when he gets back from his sleepover.”

Her face lit up at the mention of her big brother. Her bright eyes widening. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, scrambling to grab the plate she had so proudly prepared. “I already made the perfect ones for him. He’s going to love them!”

She carefully lifted the plate, her small hands gripping the edges as she turned toward the table. Aaron glanced over from the stove. A faint smile playing on his lips as he watched her. But as her foot caught on the edge of the rug, time seemed to slow. You saw the plate tip forward, her hands fumbling to steady it… but it was too late. The pancakes tumbled off the plate and landed on the floor in a sticky, syrupy heap.

For a heartbeat the kitchen was silent. She froze, her wide eyes locked on the mess as if willing it to disappear. Then her lip quivered, and the first tear rolled down her cheek. “My pancakes,” she choked out. Her voice breaking as the full weight of the disaster hit her. “They were for Jack! They were perfect, and now they’re… they’re ruined!”

The tears came fast and heavy. Her small body shaking as she clutched the empty plate to her chest. “Jack’s going to hate me!” she wailed. Her devastation so dramatic it tugged at your heartstrings.

Before you could react Aaron was already there. He crouched down in front of her, his voice calm and steady like an anchor in the storm. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. His large hands gently cupping her tiny ones to lower the plate. “It’s okay. Look at me, sweetheart.”

Her tear-filled eyes met his. Her breaths hiccupping as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from her damp cheek. “It’s not okay!” she sobbed with her voice high and shaky. “They were special, and now they’re all gone!”

Aaron shook his head, his voice steady and soothing. “They’re not gone, baby girl. We’ll make more.”

“But they won’t be the same!” she insisted. The tears streaming down her face. “I worked so hard and now Jack’s going to think I don’t care!”

Aaron’s gaze softened further, and he leaned closer, his tone quiet but firm. “Jack knows how much you care about him. He’s going to love whatever you make because you made it. And you know what?”

She sniffled, her lip still trembling. “W-What?”

Aaron smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “This gives us a chance to make them even better. What do you say? Should we give it another try?”

Her tears slowed as she stared at him. Her little brow furrowed as she considered his words. “Even better?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Even better,” Aaron promised. His smile widening. “And this time, Mommy and I will help. Team effort, okay?”

You stepped closer, crouching beside them and placing a hand on her back. “We’ll make the best pancakes Jack has ever had,” you said, your voice warm and encouraging. “And this time, we’ll keep them far away from that rug.”

A small, wobbly smile tugged at her lips. She nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said, her voice still soft but a little steadier.

Aaron pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing and offering her his hand. “Come on my favorite little sous chef. Let’s get started.” He scooped her up and set her back on the counter. The three of you worked together to create a new batch with Aaron carefully flipping each pancake while you guided her hands to measure and pour the batter. Her confidence returned with each successful flip. By the time the stack was finished her earlier devastation was a distant memory.

When she placed the new plate on the table her grin was as bright as the sunlight streaming through the window. “These are even better than the first ones!” she announced proudly.

Aaron leaned against the counter. His arms crossed as he watched her with a soft smile. “Told you we’d make it work,” he said while meeting your gaze with a look of quiet affection.

And as your daughter beamed with pride you couldn’t help but marvel at the way Aaron’s calm, steady love had turned what could have been a morning ruined by tears into one filled with laughter and warmth. The kitchen had settled into a comfortable hum. The chaos of earlier forgotten as the three of you sat together at the table. Your daughter happily munched on her latest masterpiece, humming to herself between bites. You and Aaron shared a quiet moment of contentment as the sunlight framed his profile while he sipped his coffee.

As you watched her pick at the chocolate chips on her plate, a teasing smile tugged at your lips. “You know,” you said to Aaron, breaking the quiet, “at this rate, she’s never going to want anyone else’s pancakes. You’ve set the bar too high, Hotchner.”

Aaron raised a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “That so?”

“Mhm,” you replied, leaning your chin on your hand as you turned toward him. “Pretty sure she’s going to be calling you from college, begging you to mail her a stack.”

Your daughter perked up at the idea, her fork pausing mid-air. “Daddy, can you really do that?” she asked. Her eyes wide with excitement.

Aaron chuckled, setting his mug down. “I don’t think pancakes travel very well, sweetheart.”

Her face fell, her lips forming a dramatic pout that had you both laughing softly. Aaron leaned closer, brushing a crumb off her cheek. “But you won’t need that sweetheart,” he said, his voice warm. “By then, you’ll be the one making pancakes for me.”

She brightened at the thought, nodding eagerly. “Yeah! I’ll make the best pancakes ever, Daddy. Even better than yours!”

“Now that,” Aaron said while leaning back in his chair with a grin, “is a challenge I’ll accept.”

You shook your head, laughing as you reached out to brush your fingers over your daughter’s hair. “I think you’ve created a monster.”

“Maybe,” Aaron replied, standing, and walking over to gather both you and your daughter into his arms. His embrace was warm and steady, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as he pulled you close. “But I think I can live with that.”

Your daughter giggled, “Daddy’s pancakes are still my favorite though.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes from deep love and shared joy. You closed your eyes as you leaned into the steady rhythm of Aaron’s heartbeat and feeling your daughter’s small arms clinging to both of you.

As you opened your eyes and glanced around the kitchen with the remnants of batter, the syrup-sticky plates, and the soft morning sunlight still spilling across the table—you felt a pang of quiet gratitude. These mornings were so simple, so fleeting, but they were everything.

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[dawn-moths]

thinking about tomura being tenko’s older brother where they’re perhaps ten years apart. you and tomura first meet when you’re both eighteen, start hanging out as friends, but you’re only vaguely aware he has a sibling when sometimes he says he can’t hang out that particular weekend because he has to “babysit the brat”.

after a while, you’re able to convince him to show you a picture of his little brother. you’re curious if they look alike, and other than a few features like their eye and hair color, you can easily imagine how tomura looked at that age, too. him and tenko look startling similar to each other even with that many years between them.

“sorry…” tomura grumbles through the other side of your phone call one afternoon. “tenko’s soccer practice got canceled and now my mom’s making me watch him while she’s at work.”

he sounds annoyed, almost embarrassed by the fact that, even at eighteen, he has to obey his mother’s requests, but is ultimately contrite about his last minute change of plans having to effect you so often as well.

“it’s ok,” you assure him with your usual chipper tone, fully understanding the responsibility he has. “but, y’know…” you remind him, “if it’s ok, i could always come over and we could hang out while you’re watching your brother?”

you try and hide your eagerness the best you can. the truth is, you’ve been wanting to meet the mini-tomura for quite some time now. tomura always describes him as annoying, as a needy little brat that whines until he gets his way, but the words are never spit with scorn and there’s something soft in his eyes that always gives away the fact that he actually does care.

tomura usually just brushes off your offer, promises to reschedule with you, so you’re prepared to be let down, but that time, after a short pause of contemplation, tomura clears his throat and says, “i mean, yeah, ok. that’s fine i guess, if you want…”

“ok!” you beam, already grabbing your keys. “i’ll be over soon then!” you hang up, grab your bag, and jump in your car.

any time you’ve been over to tomura’s house (which has been few and far between, since your place tends to be the designated hangout given you usually have the house to yourself most of the time) tenko hasn’t been there. he’s been at his aforementioned soccer practice or a friend’s house or some other activity that’s kept you from meeting him.

you’re so curious it’s overwhelming, and as you pull up to tomura’s house he’s already perched on the front step, gazing at his phone until he hears your car approaching. you park by the curb and scamper up to greet him, giving him a hug as per usual, and though he’d sounded sort of defeated on the phone earlier, seeing your smiling face now makes him feel a little lighter.

“hey,” you grin, momentarily holding both his hands in your own down between your close bodies. sometimes you're reminded how adverse to any kind of physical touch tomura used to be when the two of you had first met. even something as simple as a light, playful nudge would make him flinch, cause him to keep a bit more of a distance for the rest of the day.

but over time, you're not sure exactly why but, something changed.

and it was actually him who came to comfort you that time. you'd been upset, had planned on staying in your room alone until the ache decided to pass. but then you and tomura had started texting. he'd sensed something was wrong so he'd called. he'd heard the heartbreak in your voice, told you he was on his way, and not ten minutes later he was sitting beside you on your bed with his arm around you as you'd talked to him about what had happened while you'd cried.

ever since then, he'd gotten more comfortable with your casual, familiar touches, though he still found it easier to touch you than to be touched by you.

“hey,” he returns, then adds with that hint of that sarcastic humor you’ve come to love so much, “you ready to meet the little demon?”

you laugh, unable to not be amused by his melodrama. “oh, c’mon,” you say, lightly batting at his arm. “he’s only eight, he can’t be that bad!”

all tomura offers in response is a muttered, “yeah, well…” before inviting you inside.

as soon as you walk through the door, a little dog comes bounding towards you, running in energetic circles and barking as his tail wags with both curiosity and excitement. you proceed with caution around the corgi, wanting to reach down to pet him but hesitating around the unfamiliar animal.

the few times you'd been over before, tomura had let his dog out into the yard so he wouldn't end up jumping all over you, so this is the first time you're meeting him up close instead of catching glances of him through a window.

"ugh, sorry..." tomura mutters as he reaches down and scoops his dog up, the canine's tail continuing to wag even more once he's secure in tomura's arms. "i forgot to let him out back..." he then seems to realize something, his eyes widening a bit as he does a double take back at you and asks with a little more guilt in his tone, "you're not afraid of dogs, are you...?"

you wave off his concern with a swish of your hand and a crooked smile. you tell him you're not, you were just a little surprised is all.

"it's mon-chan, right?" you ask, slowly reaching your hand out for the dog to sniff.

"yeah. mon-chan," tomura confirms, readjusting his grip on the wriggling animal. "he's super friendly. just, well..." he gives a half shrug as a small grin cracks at one corner of his mouth. "he can be a lot."

"hey, mon-chan..." you coo, your tone turned sugary sweet, and the dog gives the back of your hand a few friendly licks. "awwww, you're cute, aren't you? what a good boy..."

but before you can dote over the dog too much, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, causing you to shift your view towards the living room that sits off to the side of the main entrance.

and, lo and behold, there he is.

little tenko and his sweet little face that reminds you so much of the older brother you’ve become so fond of.

“hiiiii,” you greet the little boy with a soft voice and a smile. you know kids can often be wary when meeting new people, so when tenko just stares at you with those big, dark eyes you’re not surprised.

“hey,” tomura grumbles to his sibling. “don’t be rude. say hello.”

tenko then seems to snap out of his cautious trance, looking at his brother then back to you before saying, “is this the girl you’re always talking about, nii-san?”

tomura feels his cheeks heat and his ears burn as he sputters out something that sounds like half an excuse, half a scolding before telling tenko to go watch tv and behave. tenko obeys without any trouble and as you pass by through the living room you can see a popular superhero movie playing on the screen.

you travel down the short hall to where tomura’s bedroom lays at the very end, and once the door is shut he seems to become a little less tense.

“i’ll need to make him lunch in about an hour,” he tells you. “but until then…” he flashes you a suggestive smirk and you know exactly what’s coming.

it's one of your favorite things about hanging out together, the way it relieves the tension, lets you two unleash parts of yourself that you rarely let other people see. and tomura's been surprisingly good at it from the start. you wouldn't have guessed at a glance how skilled those hands could be, how coordinated given his usually lax, nonchalant nature...

he tosses you a game controller and you catch it with ease. “wha’dya say we pick up where we left off?” he asks, a hint of darkness to his voice that you now recognize as cold, hard competition.

you feel a look of confidence spreading across your face at the challenge and you reply in a tone befitting of a worthy opponent, “you’re on.”

the next hour passes quickly as you play your guys' favorite co-op game together, leaving you just two points from tying with tomura, and amidst your laughter and playful taunting, there’s a slight squeak as the door creaks on its hinges, little tenko peeking through the thin crack and observing, letting out a quiet gasp when he realizes he's been spotted.

“i’ll be out in a sec,” tomura tells his brother, already knowing what that expectant look means. tenko seems to linger, casting you another glance, and you convince tomura to pause the game.

“c’mon,” you murmur, giving him that guilt-tripping stare that he hates you for being so good at. “let’s go make him lunch and then we can finish this after.”

and it’s that suggestion of we, that suggestion of together, that has him pausing the game and setting his controller aside, standing from his bed to open the door to his little brother and following him down the hall to the kitchen, you close behind.

tomura takes out a tupperware from the fridge and has just popped it in the microwave when his phone buzzes from his pocket. "it's my mom," he states. "gimme one sec." he steps out of the kitchen and begins to wander towards the living room, his voice growing more distant as you hear him pick up the call. you hope everything is ok. but, for now, it's just you and tenko standing in the kitchen, the eight-year-old gazing up at you with that big, curious stare while the microwave counts down the seconds behind him.

"can i have lemonade?" he asks once you meet his eyes and give him a friendly grin.

the microwave beeps and you go to take his lunch out of it. "sure," you answer. but then, a little bit more suspiciously, you ask, "does tomura usually let you have lemonade?"

tenko nods, not giving anything away as you finish plating the other items of his lunch while tomura remains on the phone in the living room. from where you stand, if you glance just slightly around the entryway, you can see him sitting on the couch, leaning forward a bit while he continues to speak with his voice low. you just hope his mom won't be mad that he invited you over while she wasn't home.

it's not like you hadn't been over before when his house was empty, but given this is the first time you've met his little brother, you just hope you're not overstepping somehow. not to mention that, unbeknownst to you, tomura's mom had begun badgering him about meeting you before the end of summer. as soon as she'd caught onto the fact that her eldest son had been hanging out regularly with a girl, she couldn't help but become curious as to what kind of girl she might be.

a bit distracted by your thoughts, you just nod and say to tenko, "ok, sure, you can have some lemonade then."

once his chicken tenders and apple slices and animal crackers are promptly arranged on his plate and a glass of lemonade is poured, you carry tenko's lunch to the table and take a seat across from him while you wait for tomura to conclude his conversation, trying to keep your growing anxiety at bay at any possible problems that may be arising due to that phone call.

you try to listen in, though mostly hear the standard, vague, "yeah. uh-huh. alright," responses from tomura until—

"are you my brother's girlfriend?"

you blink at tenko, taken aback as you sputter over a response to that, wondering for a moment if you merely imagined it. then, once your nervous giggling and bashfulness begins to dissipate, you clear your throat and say, "did tomura tell you that?"

tenko takes another bite from one of his apple slices and says, "no. but he talks about you all the time. he says you're his friend, but i hear him talking to his friends at night when he thinks no one is listening."

you stare at tenko with an intensity you don't realize you're wearing on your face at first, the suspense eating you alive. eventually, when tenko doesn't seem like he's going to offer more, you lower your voice to something closer to a whisper, your gaze darting back to where you can barely see tomura sitting in the other room, still on the phone, and ask tenko, "what do you hear him say?"

tenko, his big eyes moving up and to the right, contemplates that for a moment as he finishes chewing and swallowing his next bite, then tells you, "i don't know exactly. i can't hear what his other friends are saying, but one time i heard nii-san say that you were special." you feel your cheeks heat and again glance over at the back of the boy you've become so fond of so quickly. "he said something about not wanting to ruin anything," tenko continues, reciting the words as if he doesn't quite grasp their meaning. but then, tenko's mouth splits into a mischievous little grin that reminds you so much of tomura, it's honestly a little scary. he says, seeming to find amusement in his next words, "one time, i heard him say you were like his guardian angel or something..."

a childish little giggle bubbles up from tenko's lips, almost as if he finds a cruel kind of pleasure in knowing his older brother's biggest secret, but this information just makes your heart all the more warmer towards tomura.

you'd spent the last couple of months suffering inside your own head about it all— about whether you really meant something to tomura, about if he cared for you as much as you did for him or if you were simply just convenient and would be discarded come any significant distance put between the two of you—

suddenly tenko seems to retract, perhaps sensing your discomfort, so you take the opportunity to clear the nerves and giddiness from your throat and change the subject.

"so, tenko," you begin, trying to straighten out your crooked smile. "tomura tells me you play soccer. do you like it?"

tenko gives a shrug at first, taking another bite of an apple slice that's had the skin peeled and cut to resemble rabbit ears. then he says, "i guess so. but i like watching movies more."

you ask him what kinds of movies he likes, recalling the superhero blockbuster that had been playing on the tv when you'd first arrived, and feel a spark of endearment as tenko's face lights up as he delves into telling you all about his favorite characters and their cool powers.

"wow! you sure know a lot!" you commend him with a beaming smile, and at the compliment tenko's face begins to turn a little red. "do you and tomura ever watch movies together?"

"not really..." the younger sibling sulks, pouting as he peels the remainder of the skin from his apple slice. "nii-san is usually playing video games in his room and my mom says i'm not allowed to play them because they're too violent..." then, before you can tell him that's too bad but one day he'll be old enough to play the same games as his brother, tenko perks back up and tells you, "but sometimes... sometimes nii-san lets me into his room on nights our mom works late and we play mario kart together."

you have to force yourself to stifle a laugh at that. i mean, it's just completely adorable, isn't it? the thought of tomura, who tries so hard to play it off like he couldn't care less about his little brother, like he's nothing more than a nuisance to him, a pest, an inconvenience, does actually take the time to bond with him anyway. at least, when no one's looking.

you tell tenko you also like mario kart, then lean in and add in a playful whisper, "but i bet he doesn't tell you about all the times i've beaten him, does he?"

tenko regards you with blatant skepticism. "no way," he says, as if he's never been more sure about anything in his life. "there's no way you can beat nii-san. he's too good! no one can beat him!"

now you laugh openly, causing tomura to glance over his shoulder just to make sure there isn't too much chaos ensuing in his brief absence, but tenko just looks confused.

"well," you reply, amusement trailing off the end of your words, "he is pretty good. i'll give him that. but unbeatable..." you quirk up one brow and wear a slight smirk for a moment before allowing your features to fall back to normal. then you tell tenko, "just give it time. one day i bet you'll be able to beat him. i believe in you!"

"you behavin' in here?" tomura suddenly appears in the entryway, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he casts his little brother a warning look.

"your girlfriend says she beat you in mario kart, is that true?" tenko blurts out, and you have to force yourself not to tease tomura when his cheeks visibly darken at the mention of you being his girlfriend.

"everything ok?" you ask to defuse the situation a little and put tomura back at ease, but then his look of bashfulness morphs into a look of slight surprise at the sight you and his little brother getting along so well.

quickly, he snaps out of it, and replies, "yeah. she was just checking in," before seeming to notice something awry about the picture here, specifically on tenko's side of the table.

"hey," tomura lightly scolds his brother. "you know mom only lets you have lemonade on the weekends." you immediately begin to apologize, saying that when he asked you thought it would be ok, and feel embarrassed that you let yourself be manipulated by a child, but tomura assures you it's fine before returning to interrogate his little brother who, admittedly, looks very guilty now.

"did you lie to her?" he presses, and for a moment you're afraid he'll make tenko cry. tenko denies it at first and you observe with growing anxiety as the argument between them ramps up a bit.

it isn't until you reach over to place a hand over tomura's, which has been firmly planted on the tabletop as he leans in over his brother, that he seems to simmer down a little.

"one time will be ok, won't it?" you ask him, not wanting to ruin the moment you'd just shared with tenko, feeling like you'd gained a little more of his trust. you use your secret weapon, the one thing tomura can never say no to whenever he sees it— that sweet, pleading stare you give as you gaze up at him, the look that makes his stomach flutter and his head haze over with thoughts he'll be revisiting later once he's alone.

"fine," he concedes, some of the rigidity that had captured his limbs leaving him as he steps away from the table. he looks directly at his brother and concludes with a warning, "but just this once."

you're relieved, and tenko appears to have returned to his prior state of unfazed contentment, but tomura still seems impatient about something.

"c'mon," he says, beckoning you up from the table to follow him back to his room. "we still have a game to finish."

you give tenko a parting smile before humming out an amused, lilting little note, trailing after tomura as you chirp out a mischievous remark of, "are you gonna actually help us win this time? or am I gonna have to carry the entire round again?"

he lets out an incredulous, albeit amused, chuckle, surprising you by throwing his arm around your shoulders and tugging you in closer to his side so you almost stumble down the hallway. "oh, just you wait..." brazen, he murmurs in your ear, his voice low and dark, now allowing the butterflies in your tummy to unfurl their delicate wings and take flight, "by the time we're done with this round, the other team isn't even gonna know what hit 'em..."

and, with that, you once again return to the confined space of his only slightly disheveled bedroom, the tv screen still bearing the scores from your last game. although, admittedly, as you continue to sit side by side, knees nudging one another here and there when things start to get a little too desperate or rowdy, you can't help but find yourself a little more distracted and self-conscious than usual.

because you swear you catch tomura glancing at you in between rounds from the corner of your eye, something softer, something warmer than you're quite used to possessing his crimson gaze.

it's a side to him you've rarely gotten to see, but you hope he'll learn to wear it a little more openly around you as time goes on.

besides, when his little brother had asked if you were his girlfriend, he hadn't quite said no, now had he?

[sugarwarachan]

i overheard you - ft. shoto todoroki

synopsis: your best friend hears you masturbating. what's a pro hero to do?

cws: timeskip!shoto, virgin!shoto, soft!sex, like the softest I’ve ever written, honestly sub!shoto, experienced!reader, fem!reader, pet names like sweetheart and angel

A knock sounds at the door. You nearly drop your vibrator in shock, fumbling with the button to shut it off, the noise deafening in the dark of your room.

“y/n?”

Shoto.

Fuck.

“Yeah?” your voice is hoarse. How on earth are you supposed to talk to him when a minute ago you’d been actively picturing his mouth on your pussy?

“Can I come in?”

Heart hammering, you stash the vibrator under the covers, shuck your pajama bottoms back up, and run a hand through your hair. “Sure!”

His two-toned head peeks into the room. “Lights on or off?”

Your whole face is on fire. “Off, if you don’t mind.

He dips his head. Fuck, is he blushing, too?

You wrap your arms around your legs while he pads across the room. He’s not wearing a shirt. The distracting amount of skin on display is messing with your ability to think. A simple pair of boxer briefs sits low on his hips; a trail of hair leads down to an impressive package that makes your mouth dry up at the sight.

You cannot fuck your best friend you cannot fuck your best friend –

The bed dips with his weight. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, staring down at the carpet like he can drill a hole into it.

“Sho?”

His head whips up.

“Sorry,” he says in a brief burst of laughter. “I thought I had an idea of what to say when I came in here and now that I am” - he gestures at the bed – “I have no idea how to say it.”

“It’s just me,” you say, brushing his shoulder with your hand.

“That’s exactly it. It’s you.” Frustration colors his tone and a light bulb goes off in your head. You don’t know what to say to that, but you have a sneaking suspicion where his head is.  

“Did you hear me?” 

Shoto blushes so furiously you can feel the heat pouring off the left side of his body. He nods.

“Did you come in here to do something about it?” 

His mouth falls open before he turns his expression into something closer to determination. It makes you want to kiss him so badly your teeth hurt.  

“That was my original plan, yes.”

Your skin tingles. You drop your arms from your knees and angle yourself closer to him.

“What did you want to say when you first came in here?” 

There’s the softest touch of his finger against your pinky before his hand covers your own. 

“I wanted to ask you if I could help. If you’d let me watch.”

Your heart roars in your chest. You’re surprised Shoto can’t hear it.

“You want to help make me come?”

Shoto swallows, and answers in that level deep voice of his, “Yes.”

“Okay then.”

You pull the vibrator out from beneath the covers, trying not to laugh at Shoto’s obvious expression of dismay.

“Come lay down next to me,” you say, patting the space next to you. He lays down next to you but he’s hovering, holding himself back, so you grab his hand and drape it on your hip. His breath hitches, calloused fingertips brushing against the band of your sleep shorts as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Will you help me take these off?” you whisper into his ear.

Hair brushes your cheek as he nods. His thumb hooks under your shorts and tugs them down your legs quickly. His breath is already shaky.

“What’s your comfort level here? Do you want me to tell you what I’m doing? What I like?

You figure that taking the lead is in the best of both of your interests, and honestly, the idea of telling a pro hero what to do is sending a bolt of arousal through your gut. How much would he like being ordered around?

“Please,” he says, and fuck, you’ve never heard this man so undone. Breathy and tense, Shoto’s eyes drink in your skin like he’s discovering the ocean.  

“I only have the rabbit with me, so I’m going to use the ears on my clit while you watch, okay?”

Another fervent nod, like he doesn’t dare look away. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” he says, a divot appearing in between his brows. “It already feels so good just lying next to you.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to crack in your chest. 

“Try not to think too much about it too much,” you say, placing a hand on his chest and scooting closer to him. “It feels good for me, too, just being here with you.”

You press a kiss into the hollow of his throat and turn the vibrator on, holding it to your clit. He can feel your breath catch on his skin. His hand grips down on your hip, hard, his own rutting against your side.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you like to see.”

“Fuck, okay.” He expels a breath, and it’s already hotter than anything that’s ever happened to you because it’s Shoto swearing in your ear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m a little overwhelmed. You look… I can’t even describe how beautiful you look.”

“That’s all right.” His words wash over you, turning your insides to jelly. You turn the vibrator’s intensity up one. “You’re already on the right track.”

“I am?” 

“Mm-hmm. You’re already making me feel good, Sho. Believe in that. Talk to me.”

The combination of praise and command seems to jolt him into action. 

“I like seeing you like this,” he starts, voice a little shy. He kisses your forehead, moves his hands along the soft skin of your hips. “I like hearing the noises you make, the soft little gasps when you touch yourself.”

It was tame for dirty talk, but you feel each word like a thunderbolt. 

“What else, baby?”

His breath hitches again.

Oh, he likes that. 

“I want to be the reason you’re making those sounds. I want my fingers inside you when you come.”

You shudder, the vibration against your clit drawing you closer to that dark, deep kind of orgasm you only have when you’re turned on beyond reason. You guide his hand to the inside of your thigh, the slight friction of his callused skin on yours making you whine.

He props himself up on one elbow and peers down at you. His brow is furrowed, concentration set clearly on his face. You cup his cheek and kiss him before you think to stop yourself. Here his confidence kicks up, even when the kiss gets messy, your tongue against his teeth.

His thumb sweeps over your clit. You jump at the sensation and also at the strength of your reaction. You were already keyed up from earlier and having Shoto next to you has only amplified how fucking horny you are. He’s watching you with such intensity, such obvious need. 

A finger nudges your entrance. 

“I can touch you here?”

You can barely nod.

“Thank fuck,” he says, and rearranges you both so he’s kneeling in front of you, spreading your knees open and sliding two fingers inside of you.

“Sorry. I wanted to look.”

It’s so Shoto, and it’s so hot that you whimper and buck your hips up to meet him.

“Looking is a critical part of learning.” Is that your voice? You sound like you just finished a marathon. 

Shoto huffs a soft laugh, eyes trained on your pussy. When your eyes meet, he leans down to press his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft here, sweetheart,” he says, fingers moving in and out. The pet name feels so warm on your skin you almost want to cry. 

“More, Sho, please.” 

He adds a third finger, the stretch making you moan.

“Are you this wet for me?” He doesn’t give you time to answer, his thumb circling and pressing down on your clit over and over. “I can feel you around my fingers, angel. You’re squeezing me so tight.” His voice breaks. You’re spinning inside of yourself, everything narrowing to the thrum of your clit, that burst of sensation every time Shoto’s thumb rubs against you.

“Yes yes, exactly like that, please don’t stop touching me,” you chant, hardly recognizing your voice.

“Do you want the vibrator back? Is this—will this be enough?”

It normally wouldn’t be, but you’re literally fighting to keep yourself from coming as it is.

“Will you lay down, Sho?”

Uncertainty crosses his face briefly but he complies, lying down next to you like he had at the start. You hardly give him time to settle before you’re straddling him, pressing your soaking wet pussy against his cock. Shoto chokes on a whimper, hand pressed against his mouth.

“Don’t you dare not make noise for me,” you hear yourself say. All you can think about is the ridge of his dick in between the folds of your pussy, how much you can’t wait to have all of that inside of you. “I want us to come apart together, okay?” 

His hands are tight on your hips, grinding you down. 

“Fuck, you feel too good,” he pants. “Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna come, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fucking come, I don’t know much longer I can last.”

Your pussy makes obscene squelching noises as you slide, up and down, over and over, on his dick.  “Stay with me, just a few more seconds. Come on, fall apart with me. Fucking fall apart with me like a good boy, okay?”

You’re right—the pet name seems to detonate Shoto’s last shred of control. He growls against your throat, thrusting up into you, the ridge of his cock rocking perfectly against your clit until you’re falling, flying over the edge. Shoto’s name falls from your lips in a chant; your own name echoing in the space between you as he comes in his briefs.

In the afterglow of your orgasm, you lay on top of him listening to the thunderous beat of his heart. Touching him feels sacred, divine. Is this what people feel when they love someone? 

“y/n?” Shoto’s voice is breathless. He sounds awestruck. 

“Yeah?” You prop up on his chest to look at him. His eyes are closed, a smile creasing the corners. The need to kiss him is like a physical tug in your stomach. 

“That was amazing.” He opens his eyes and smiles widely. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re amazing.”

“You were pretty good yourself, you know.”

(watch me fuck around and write a part two)

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 2/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE

                Jake leans back on the sofa and takes a sip from a bottle of water, looks out the window and lets out a contented sigh. He’s been home a few days now and it feels damn good. Relaxing in a way he knows he will be well over in a couple of weeks, but for right now it’s exactly what he needs.

                “Who’s cockadoodledo?” Kara asks and Jake turns to look at his sister, who’s on her phone while also doing coloring with her two kids. Quiet time.

                “Uh… what?”

                “It’s the sound a rooster makes!”

                “You’re right, it is the sound a rooster makes…” Jake says to his four-year-old nephew, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And other than that I don’t know what your mom is talking about.”

                “One of your Instagram followers,” Kara says, waving her phone in the air as if to prove what she’s looking at and Jake clicks.

                “Oh. Huh. Funny. It’s probably one of the guys in my squad, his callsign is Rooster.”

                “Really? Rooster? Why’s that?”

                “Uh…”

                “Oh, is this a conversation we should be having over a glass of wine when young ears are asleep?”

                “No! I mean… I don’t have any firsthand… information or knowledge.”

                “Well, he might want to give it to you because he told you that you look good.”

                “What?”

                “On Instagram Jake. Keep up.”

                Jake sighs and reaches for his phone, because Kara clearly wants him to look, and he doesn’t spend a lot of time on it, uses it to keep in touch with people when he’s away from them. He opens up Instagram and sure enough there are notifications, new follower requests and comments and there it is, under the picture he posted a couple of days ago.

                Looking good Hangman.

                Jake sucks both his lips into his mouth, wonders if Bradshaw is trying to… say something.

                Anything.

                He then goes and has a look at Bradshaw’s profile and pictures and almost swallows his tongue. He hadn’t been expecting that. Bradshaw had never struck him as the kind of guy to post photos like… that. Not that he’s complaining.

                Fucking hell.

                Did he post this in response to Jake’s own picture? He was fully dressed. That wasn’t… it wasn’t suggestive at all. His sister took that photo.

                “What? What are you looking at? You’ve just gone bright red,” Kara says, and she’s scrambling up from the floor and making grabby hands for his phone and he lets her take it from him, knows better than to try and fight her off.

                “Whoooooo boy. This is Rooster? Damn…”

                “Kara!”

                “I have eyes Jake!”

                “What are you doing?” Jake asks, because she’s taking longer than needed to just look at a photo, wonders if she’s scrolling through the others.

                “Replying in kind… and done!”

                She hands it back and Jake actually has time to look at Bradshaw’s profile, and he seems to have a lot of pictures for a guy who hadn’t seemed to even know how to use Instagram a few days ago. Then he reads the replies to the post and his stomach starts to sink, because Bradshaw definitely didn’t post this in response to Jake. It was posted five days ago, the first day proper of their leave and the same day they’d all met up for dinner before departing in different directions for six weeks.

                Who the hell is Mahuika? He’s following them and they’re following him, and okay, it’s Phoenix. So she’s… what? Taking photos of Bradshaw and posting them? Does she have access to Bradshaw’s phone, or just his Instagram account? He’s pretty sure that Phoenix wouldn’t be commenting on any of his posts, but Bradshaw… might?

                Maybe?

                Has?

                Jake is so confused. Then he reads the comment Kara has typed in and pulls a face. Okay then. He'll have to see how this plays out.

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend- Jschlatt

Part 6

Masterlist

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Schlatt wakes up with the worst pounding headache he has ever had. He can’t remember most of last night, but he feels like something happened. He looks over at his nightstand and sees a glass of water, two pills, his phone and a note. The note reads, “Here’s some advil, you’re going to need it. Call me when you are less hungover!”

He can tell by the curly handwriting that you wrote the note. Part of him wished you would have stayed with him. He wanted to cuddle with you again or at least have you cuddle with the cats. He’s worried that he fucked something up, but he’s not sure what he did.

Before he calls you, he calls Mika. “Hey man! How are you feeling?” Mika answers, a little too loud for Schlatt’s liking.

“Shitty. What happened last night?” Schlatt asks, rubbing his forehead.

“You don’t remember do you? You sang Creep for (Y/N), but I don’t think they got the message. Then when you guys left, I think they were crying. You were so drunk, they were dragging you around.”

Schlatt remembers singing Creep and it not exactly going as he planned. That is why he took so many shots. He wanted to forget your confusion and the way you were talking to a random guy. “Why were they crying?”

“I’m not sure. They tried to tell us they weren’t. Maybe you should ask them.”

“Alright, thanks. Have a great show tonight,” Schlatt hangs up.

He knows he needs to call you, but he wants to delay the inevitable of whatever happened. He takes the advil you laid out and goes to check on the cats. Schlatt feeds them, hoping his hangover will go away soon.

After a few hours of laying around, Schlatt starts feeling better. He picks up his phone and sees his Lock Screen of the two of you. It was a photo taken when he moved back to New York. The two of you had decided to go out to stay inside and play Mario Kart like most days. You made him take a selfie with you as a bet. You told him if you won the next two games, he had to take a selfie with you. He reluctantly smiled when you took the picture. However, when he saw the picture, he made you send it to him then it immediately became his Lock Screen.

Looking at the two of you happy, made his heart swell. He longed for moments like this where you two were just happy. He wished that he could spend every moment with you. He didn’t care if you two were together or not. He just wanted to be near you always.

Schlatt bites the bullet and calls your number. “Hi,” you let out when he answers. He doesn’t know why but you sound tired and sad. He hopes you’re okay.

“Hey you wanted me to call you when I was less hungover and I’m less hungover,” he tells you.

“Okay. Can I come over? This may be a better conversation in person.”

“Of course. My door is always open for you.”

He hears you hang up and waits for your arrival. He is curious as to what the conversation is and why it needed to be in person. His anxiety is filling his brain with all the worst possibilities.

As he is worrying, the doorbell rings. He rushes to get the door. He sees you staring there with your hair pulled up and wearing his hoodie. You look even more tired than you sounded on the phone. the sight made him want to pull you into a hug. “Come in,” he tells you, leading you to sit on the couch.

You sit down beside him but put a bit of space between you two. You sigh before asking, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really. The last thing I remember is singing, but that’s about it.”

You nod. “You told me something last night. Something that sober Schlatt might not have told me.” You look up at him.

Oh shit. He didn't, did he? “What did drunk Schlatt tell you?”

“You told me you loved me and not like a friendly love. You told me you were in love with me,” you tell him.

He looks at you horrified trying to read your face. He wonders what you thought about it. Probably bad based upon your appearance. “I’m sorry (Y/N). I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I couldn’t. I knew you wouldn’t feel the same and I didn’t want to lose you,” Schlatt rambles.

You grab his hand. “I never said I didn’t feel the same. That's the problem. I don’t know how I feel. I love you so so much, but I never thought about loving you like that. I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying I never thought about it. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know what it feels like.”

He nods. “Is there anything I could do to help you? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. I think you would have hurt yourself more if you kept it to yourself,” you tell him. “This might be crazy, but maybe you should kiss me.”

His eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Kiss me. Maybe if you kiss me, it will all make sense. That’s what happens in movies. I know this is real life, but maybe it’s worth a shot.”

Before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. He feels you immediately kiss him back. He has been waiting for this moment forever and actually experiencing it doesn’t feel real. He pulls you closer to him, needing you as close as possible.

You pull away slightly to catch your breath. “Woah. That was,” you start, not finding the right words.

Schlatt nods, reading your mind. “Did that help you at all?” He asks, lightly brushing a piece of hair that had fallen behind your ear.

“Maybe. Maybe you need to kiss me again to really be sure,” you tease.

“Don’t tempt me Toots. I’ll kiss you all damn day if I have to.” He could kiss you forever, it seems. He would quit making videos if I meant spending the day making out with you.

“I liked it a lot. I haven’t kissed many people, but it never felt like that. Is it supposed to feel electric? I feel like if I touch my lips, I’m going to shock myself.”

“I think that’s what they call sparks, Darling,” he smirks at you. “Don’t worry I felt them too.”

You smile at him. “What does this mean for us?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything but I want it too. We will still be best friends no matter what happens. Honestly, nothing would be different other than we kiss and maybe do more if you’re up for it,” he assures you. Schlatt would love to do more with you, but he doesn’t want to push you in any way.

You nod. “What does that make us though? Friends who make out with each other? Partners?”

“We can be whatever you want us to be. I would like to be partners personally, but if you aren’t ready for that, that’s okay. I just want to do whatever makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He questions.

“For being you and being so understanding. I would like to be partners too, but can we keep it between us? I want it to be our thing,” you ask him.

Schlatt wishes he could shout that you feel the same from the rooftops, but he wants what makes you happy. “Of course. Whatever you want, Bub.”

“Can you kiss me again?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he laughs, kissing you again. He grabs you by your hips to place you on his lap. Schlatt deepens the kiss by pulling you somehow closer to him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, causing your mouth to open slightly. As soon as you open up, his tongue is immediately in your mouth.

Schlatt pulls away and his mouth immediately goes to your neck. Being with you like this is better than he would have ever thought. The way you are putty in his hands makes him want you more. He starts kissing your neck, enjoying the sounds escaping your lips. “Jay,” you breathe out.

He starts lightly sucking just below your ear. He presses a soft kiss on the spot he left before kissing your lips again. The kiss gets heated rather quickly.

After what feels like hours, Schlatt finally pulls away from you. Your forehead falls on his as you both work to catch your breath. You both smile at each other. “Why are we only doing this now?” You ask.

Schlatt lets out a small laugh. “Well I’ve been thinking about it for years,” he tells you, kissing your nose.

“How long have you known?” You ask him.

“I think I’ve always been in love with you, but I really felt it when I moved away. I remember doing an episode of Love or Host and thinking it was all bullshit. My love was in New York. I didn’t need some stupid twitch streamer. I know it was all for content, but all I could think about was you. After a bit of suffering in Austin, I knew I had to come back home to you,” Schlatt admits. It feels good to fully get it off of his chest.

Tears start welling in your eyes. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I have been so oblivious about your feelings. I’m happy I know now though.”

Schlatt wipes a few of your stray tears. “We have plenty of time to be together. Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

You smile at him. “Just so you know, you’re never getting this hoodie back. It’s too comfortable,” you tell him.

He puts the hood on your head. “You keep it. It looks way better on you anyways.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that. Just be warned if all your hoodies and sweatshirts go missing,” you tell him.

He laughs a bit at you. “Want to watch a movie? You can pick,” he asks.

“Mamma Mia,” you suggest.

Schlatt knows better than to say no to you, so he immediately turns the movie on. As soon as the movie starts, he pulls you into him. You lay your head on his chest and he kisses the top of your head. He feels so content in this moment like everything in his life had finally fallen into place. He holds you close, never wanting to let you go. “I love you,” he finally says out loud.

“I love you too, Jay,” you tell him. Schlatt smiles to himself, knowing there were going to be many nights like this from now on

A/N: Ahh this series has finally come to a close! I do plan to write a one off smut and I’ll write maybe some one shot stuff. Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I’m grateful for all of you! My asks are open for other reqs!

[kitkat13001]

⋆.˚✮ BLUE HAIR

and i guess i’ll just miss her even thought she isn’t even really gone things are just different ever since she cut her blue hair off…

⤷ satoru gojo x reader

⤷ jjk spoilers, set post-hidden inventory (reader and gojo are 3rd yrs), coming-of-age vibes, angsty ending, title n lyrics from tv girl’s “blue hair”

you and gojo got matching blue streaks in your hair the summer of 2007. it was the best summer of your life. 

it was maybe three or four in the morning when you got the idea, staring at his near-radioactive blue eyes and snowy white hair. 

“you won’t even need bleach,” you’d told him with a mischievous grin. 

it didn’t take him two seconds to agree. satoru would have agreed to anything you’d asked of him without question, and you knew that. 

your missions had been especially grueling as of late. it seemed that the more time went by, the harder the missions became. the older you got, the more it seemed like the world was going to shit. 

growing up sucks. growing up as a jujutsu sorcerer sucks even worse. 

that’s what makes you appreciate rare moments like this—blue dye on the white tile, gojo singing off-key, your chipped nail polish against his fair skin where you’re holding his hand. moments where you’re just kids, as you were meant to be. 

satoru’s your best friend. you two have never had any secrets. but he and suguru never did tell you exactly what happened last summer, and you’re not sure they ever will. 

you try to forget about it all, smiling when you look in the mirror and see your matching blue strands. you snap a picture, both of you smiling so wide your eyes close as the flash fills the bathroom with white light. 

you look back at the picture after it all goes down and try to remember the happy students you were before everything went to shit. you try to remember how you felt that night, carefree and rambunctious and wild and infinite.

two months after that picture was taken, geto betrayed jujutsu high. he betrayed you, and gojo and shoko and yaga and utahime and anyone else who ever loved him. 

and then gojo went m.i.a. and it felt like you had really lost everything.

the next time you see him, many months later, his blue is gone. yours is faded to almost nothing. and all you have left is that memory of holding blue-stained hands, and the photograph you keep in your wallet of you and your best friend. 

divider by @/saradika-graphics — satoru my satoru…he makes me emotional

⟢ song recs for this: blue hair - tv girl, wait - m83, dream ivory - dream ivory, my love mine all mine - mitski

[jellyfishthingblog]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ NSFW Alphabet: Silco 𖥨᩠ׄ݁

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Depends on who they are. If it's after hate fucking, he doesn't care too much apart from maybe making sure they aren't hurt too bad. If it's a good lover, he will make them comfortable, maybe bring you some water at the minimum.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man is a thigh man, if you got chub, he's into that too. Argue with the wall. He doesn't have a favourite part of himself, but will agree with whatever his partner likes about him most.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Colour is #ECDBDD, thick and definitely not small loads, but not exactly big loads either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deffo has thoughts about fucking his partner out in the bar with people around.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Have you seen him when he was younger? He seemed like he would have a lot. But no, he doesn't. He maybe had up to five, but wasn't into it as he was busy with Zaun and mining.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He wants to see their face. Mating press probably.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, but will tease here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Somewhat trimmed at the minimum, and of course the colour is the same as his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tease. Although, he does reassure them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't do it often, doesn't feel the need to. But if he's really desperate, he smells his partners clothes if he doesn't have a picture of them somewhere.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Scent. Perhaps praise too, both giving and receiving.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom. Second favourite is his office.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner walk around at his base in little clothing, mostly just a robe or anything that shows their thighs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Being degraded (I just don't see him enjoying it).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, he prefers giving. And, god, is he good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Not rough, but somewhat fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hates quickies unless the partner needs it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He wouldn't mind a little voyeurism. He's mostly vanilla, but if it's not too extreme, willing to experiment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last about 4-7 rounds, depending on the day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't want to use toys on himself, but would use a vibrator on his partner.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts if topping, small whimpers if bottoming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has accidentally thought about overstimulating both himself and his partner at the same time. He can't seem to take his mind off of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Length is 5.2in/13.2cm soft, 5.5in/13.9cm hard, uncut, slight curve upwards, two visible veins on the underside. Length is #D8AB8C, tip is #D88C96.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not too high, he's an old man after all. Probably struggles a little bit trying to keep up with a younger person.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't. Makes sure his partners all good before doing anything else.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Just a quick disclaimer, these are my headcanons, you do not have to agree with me.

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt12/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, 18+, KINKS

The drive to Jensen’s parents' home in Texas stretched ahead of us, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling in my chest. Jensen, ever the rock in my storm, drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh. Every so often, he’d give it a reassuring squeeze, his green eyes flicking toward me with a soft smile.

"You good?" he asked, his voice warm and steady.

"Define 'good,'" I replied with a nervous laugh, twisting the hem of my shirt between my fingers.

Jensen chuckled, his dimples flashing. "You’re gonna be fine. They’re not the scary kind of family—they’re the kind that’ll try to feed you until you can’t move."

"Great. Death by casserole," I teased, earning another laugh from him.

When we pulled into the driveway of his childhood home, my nerves ramped up again. The house was exactly what I’d imagined: warm, inviting, with a wraparound porch and flower pots lining the steps. Jensen parked the car and turned to me, his expression soft but serious.

“Y/N, listen. You don’t have to be nervous, okay? My family already loves you. You could do literally nothing but sit there, and they’d still adore you.”

“That’s sweet, but what if—”

“Nope,” he interrupted, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “No ‘what ifs.’ You’re perfect, and they’re going to see that.”

With that, he got out and came around to open my door. As we walked up the steps, the front door swung open, and a petite woman with short blonde hair and the warmest smile stepped out.

“Jensen!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mom,” he mumbled into her shoulder before stepping back to motion toward me. “Mom, this is Y/N.”

Donna turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, my goodness, you’re even prettier than your pictures!” she gushed, pulling me into a hug before I could react. “Come on in, sweetheart. We’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Inside, the house smelled like vanilla and home-cooked comfort food. Jensen’s dad, Alan, greeted me with a firm handshake and a kind smile, while his sister Mackenzie and brother Josh welcomed me with the kind of teasing that told me they’d all been anticipating this moment.

“Finally, we meet the famous Y/N,” Mackenzie said, giving Jensen a playful nudge. “He never shuts up about you, you know.”

“Can you not?” Jensen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Josh grinned. “Oh, we’re definitely going to. Welcome to the family initiation—relentless embarrassment.”

Over lunch, Donna served up a feast that could have fed an army. She made sure my plate was full, despite my protests, and asked a million questions about my family, my work, and how Jensen and I met.

Jensen, sitting beside me, jumped in every now and then to add details or crack a joke, but mostly, he let me handle it. His hand stayed on my knee under the table, a steadying presence that I was grateful for.

“Do you cook?” Donna asked as she passed me another helping of potatoes.

“I try,” I admitted, laughing. “But I’m pretty sure Jensen’s been too polite to tell me if I’m terrible at it.”

“She’s great,” Jensen cut in, squeezing my knee. “Way better than me. I burn toast half the time.”

“Baby, you could burn water,” Mackenzie teased, making the whole table laugh.

While Jensen and his dad worked in the garage, Donna and I found ourselves alone in the kitchen, tidying up after the feast. The warm, cozy ambiance of the house made it easier to relax, even though my nerves still lingered.

"You’re a natural," Donna said, handing me a dish to dry.

"At what?" I asked with a small laugh, taking the plate from her.

"At fitting in here. You’d never know it was your first time meeting us."

"Well, you all make it easy," I replied, genuinely touched.

Donna smiled, but her expression shifted, turning more serious. She leaned against the counter, her dish towel twisting in her hands. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Of course," I said, setting the dried plate aside.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking. "How has it been, dealing with...everything? With Danneel, I mean?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "It’s been...challenging," I admitted, choosing my words carefully.

Donna nodded, her face softening. "I know she’s their mother, but, sweetheart, she put Jensen through the wringer. And those kids, too. I’m not saying this to badmouth her—"

"You can, if you want to," I interrupted with a dry laugh.

Donna chuckled, but there was a sadness in her eyes. "She wasn’t good to him. I watched my son lose himself trying to hold it all together, trying to make it work for the kids. He’d show up here, exhausted, drained, pretending he was fine. But a mother knows."

Hearing this hit me harder than I expected. I’d always known Danneel had caused damage, but hearing it from Donna put it in a new light.

"He deserves so much better," Donna continued, her voice firm. "And seeing him with you...it’s like he’s alive again. Happy. And those kids adore you."

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice catching.

Donna reached out and squeezed my hand. "You’re doing more for him than you know. And I’m just so grateful he found you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and managed a smile. "I just want to be good for him—for all of them."

"You already are," she said with a certainty that felt like a balm to my soul.

Later that evening, as everyone gathered around the fire pit, Donna’s words lingered in my mind. Jensen, sitting beside me, kept his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close as the night air cooled.

At one point, Mackenzie leaned over with a grin. "So, Y/N, now that you’ve survived meeting the Ackles clan, what’s next on your bucket list?"

I laughed, leaning into Jensen’s warmth. "I think surviving Jensen’s embarrassing childhood stories is the real challenge."

"Don’t worry," Josh said with a smirk. "We’ve got plenty more where those came from."

Jensen groaned, but his smile never faded. "You all are the worst."

"And yet you keep coming back," Mackenzie teased.

Jensen leaned down to whisper in my ear, "You’re handling this way better than I did when I met your family, by the way."

"That’s because you’re a lightweight," I whispered back, grinning.

His low chuckle sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to be here, in this moment, with him.

As the fire crackled and the stars came out, I caught Donna watching us with a soft smile. And for the first time, I felt like I truly belonged.

The room buzzed with energy as we stepped inside Jared and Gen’s house, the unmistakable hum of laughter and conversation filling the space. It was warm and lively, just like every Supernatural gathering I’d heard about.

"Y/N!" Gen’s familiar voice rang out as she came over, pulling me into a welcoming hug. "It’s so good to see you again. And finally, at one of these reunions! I was starting to think Jensen was hiding you from us."

Jared appeared a second later, his grin as wide as ever. "Look who it is—the woman who’s been putting up with Ackles." He scooped me into one of his signature bear hugs, making me laugh.

"She’s not putting up with me," Jensen said, wrapping an arm around me. "She’s thriving."

Jared snorted. "If that’s what you need to tell yourself, man."

As if on cue, Misha Collins popped his head out of the kitchen, a mischievous smile already in place. "So, this is the Y/N we’ve heard so much about," he said, stepping into the room. "You’re braver than I thought."

"I’m starting to notice a theme here," I joked, earning a laugh from everyone.

"Don’t worry, Y/N," Misha added, giving Jensen a teasing grin. "If he screws up, you’ve got an entire cast ready to take your side."

Jensen rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t waver. "Appreciate the vote of confidence, guys."

The Cast's Welcome

As the night unfolded, I felt more at ease with every passing moment. Jim Beaver shared stories about Jensen’s early days on set, and Rob Benedict and Richard Speight Jr. kept everyone entertained with their quick wit and banter.

"And then there was the time Jared locked himself out of his trailer wearing nothing but a towel," Misha said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

"Why is that story still a thing?" Jared groaned, though he couldn’t keep from laughing.

"Because it’s hilarious," Jensen said, his hand resting casually on my knee.

I laughed along, feeling completely at home among them. These weren’t just colleagues—they were family.

At one point, Jensen and I found ourselves alone in the kitchen, refilling drinks and grabbing snacks.

"They’re amazing," I said, leaning against the counter as I watched him open a bottle of wine.

"They’re a lot," Jensen admitted with a chuckle. "But they mean well. They’ve been through everything with me."

"It’s obvious how much they love you," I said softly, reaching out to take his hand.

He looked at me, his expression warm. "They love you too. It’s impossible not to."

I smiled, leaning into him as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

By the end of the night, I was laughing harder than I had in ages. The stories had gotten wilder, and the teasing more relentless, but I loved every second of it.

"Alright, I’m calling it," Jensen said, standing up and stretching. "We’ve got to head out before Jared convinces us to stay for another round."

As we said our goodbyes, Jared pulled me in for another hug. "You’re stuck with us now, Y/N," he said with a grin.

"Good," I replied. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Jensen’s arm found its way around my waist as we headed to the car. As we drove back to the hotel, the quiet settling around us, I couldn’t help but smile.

These people weren’t just Jensen’s family anymore—they were mine too.

Flashback: Jensen’s POV

The beer in my hand felt heavier than usual as I sat in the familiar circle of chaos that was Jared, Misha, Rob, and Richard. The room was filled with the warm glow of nostalgia, the air humming with laughter and stories. It was the kind of night where walls came down, and you could talk about anything.

"Alright, Ackles," Misha said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "You’ve been unusually quiet tonight. What’s up? You’re not brooding about some The Boys scene again, are you?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "No, it’s not that."

Jared squinted at me, his grin widening. "Oh, shit. I know that look. Spill it, dude. What’s going on?"

I hesitated for a second, my thumb running over the label of my beer. These guys had been through everything with me—hell, they were my brothers in every way that mattered. If there was anyone I could talk to about this, it was them.

"I’m thinking about proposing to Y/N," I said finally, the words feeling heavy and exhilarating all at once.

The room went still for a moment, and then it erupted.

"Finally!" Jared practically yelled, throwing his hands up like he’d won the lottery.

"About damn time," Misha added with a grin.

"Wait, wait," Richard cut in, holding up a hand. "Are we talking full-on, down-on-one-knee, romantic proposal here? Or are you gonna wing it, Ackles-style?"

I smirked. "A little of both, probably. You know me."

Rob leaned forward, his expression softening. "You’re serious about this, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I’ve never been more sure of anything. She’s... everything. She’s smart, funny, and she gets me in a way no one else ever has. She’s good with the kids. Hell, she’s good for me."

Misha raised his beer. "Well, then, here’s to Y/N for being a saint and putting up with your ass."

The laughter rippled through the group, but Jared wasn’t done. "Okay, so, how are you gonna do it? Big and flashy? Or are you going for the quiet, intimate vibe?"

"I haven’t figured it all out yet," I admitted. "But it’s gotta be special. She deserves that. And I want the kids involved—JJ, Arrow, Zeppelin—they adore her, and I want them to feel like they’re part of it."

"Smart move," Rob said. "The kids’ll love it. And she’ll love that you thought of them."

Richard nodded. "Just don’t let the proposal get overshadowed by Jared being Jared."

"Hey!" Jared protested, though he was laughing.

I leaned back, the weight of my decision settling in a little more. "It’s just... it’s a big step, you know? I’ve been through this before, and I want to make sure I get it right this time."

Misha clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You’re not the same guy you were back then, Jensen. And she’s not anyone else. You’ve got this."

The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind of silence that only comes with people who know you inside and out.

"Alright," Jared said eventually, breaking the quiet. "When it happens, we expect details. And pictures. And maybe a reenactment."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. "Yeah, yeah. You’ll be the first to know."

But in that moment, surrounded by these guys who were more family than friends, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t just ready to propose to Y/N—I was excited. Because if there was one thing they were all right about, it was this—she was my everything.

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

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy, im back. probably gonna end this series soon and maybe start a new one or just write oneshots (which i may continue as a series if you guys like it a lot)

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[ippipo]

sylus drabble (some random scenario i envisioned)

I just came back from a friend's birthday and lounged in the living room. I looked a little towards my left to see a particular red-eyed man with a wonderful physique staring at me, burning holes into my ankles. 'Oh my God, does Sylus have an ankle kink or something?' I plead internally for that to not be true. Of course not, he's Sylus, not a weeb. Even if he did, I would still love him. But, please no.

"Who gave you those heels?" His deep and gentle voice booms through my chest, butterflies erupting in my tummy and my heart clenches at the sight of him fully. What a beautiful man. I hadn't paid attention to his question though. "Huh?" I let out while dragging the syllable as my voice fades while admiring the gorgeous felon in front of me.

"Who gave you those heels, sweetie?" He asks more endearingly, this time. "Oh, these? I thrifted them," I chuckle awkwardly, trying to hide my embarrassment, although there was nothing to be embarrassed about thrifting.

"You should have asked me," he says in an accusatory tone, as if I had dug into his old journals to find out about his toe fetish (lol this actually happened to me and my ex once when we were 14). "I would've bought you the premium quality ones. Thrifted footwear is uncomfortable and damages your feet sometimes."

"They looked so cute though," I whine. "All you had to do was take a picture and send it to me, and I would have gotten them made for you, the exact same ones but of higher quality and comfort."

"I'll remember that next time, Sy." I try not to laugh at how adamant he was, it was so cute. Can you imagine this gorgeous, beautiful, elegant, sophisticated, loving, giving man was head over heels for me, willing to do anything to make me feel good?

"I thought you had an ankle kink with the way you were intensely staring at them." He laughs at the absurd comment and wraps his arm around my waist. I caught a whiff of his scent and nearly fainted at how addicting it was. I felt his thumb drawing circles on my side, oddly comforting me as he pulled me closer to him.

I sigh softly. How could someone so dangerous bring such peace into my boring life? Sylus's mere presence made everything interesting. I even started working my boring job more diligently because I felt somewhat inspired by how rich he was, no matter how he achieved it. Do you know that feeling when someone is so admirable and great in your eyes that every waking moment you either want to be with them or be like them or both?

I glanced at his collarbone area, the way his chest heaved as he breathes, I tried to match it but nearly ran out of breath. The gold necklace added a nice touch to his button down that exposed his sternum. "So beautiful," I accidentally whispered out loud as I grazed my fingertips against his chest, feeling him squeeze my waist. "Thank you, darling. But no one can surpass you," he compliments me while running his hand up and down my waist.

I ran my hand through his dishelved yet ever so breathtaking hair, feeling its dampness indicating he came out of the shower not so long ago. I lean in to press a kiss against his forehead but it was too far for me to reach. So, I climbed atop of his lap and adjusted myself to be seated comfortably. I held his hair down with both my palms which made him look like a sad egg. I kissed his forehead, a nice sloppy smooch.

His eyes were closed, enjoying my kisses. I peck his lips quickly. It wasn't helping how his lips looked absolutely scrumptious, so I did what any normal person would do if they were in my place. I tweaked his lips with both of my index and thumb fingers on either side to erect them out more. And I nommed them. What is nommed, you may ask. Well, it is when you bite something (or in this case, someone) with your lips covering your teeth guarding the thing/person.

He opens an eyelid to find out what I was doing, and tries to speak but realizes what I was doing exactly. I finally let go, not wanting to make it too uncomfortable for his pretty lips. "Now, what was that?" He raises a brow. I giggle and say, "you just looked so adorable and I wanted to eat your lips."

"My cause of death finally would be cannibalism by my beloved. I'd like to express my sincere gratitude, my love." I peck his cheek and laugh again. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring myself closer. And here comes the kiss attack.

I shower his face with kisses all over because he's just so beautiful. "My." Mwah. "Gorgeous." Mwah. "Baby." Mwah. "I love you." Mwah.

His eyes remained closed throughout the attack but his lips curled into a pretty smile, making me want to nom him again. After 5 minutes or so, I finally stopped and leaned my forehead against his.

I question him again, "how could someone as ethereal as you exist?"

[chiipay]

Rin and Reader having a scary movie date?

Like they both REALLY LIKE those movies‼️

And it seems so perfect for this time of the month

(THANK YOU IF YOU DO IT😍)

Hi. Sorry for the very very long wait and it's already 2025- haha.... it's already past Halloween..hehe.. again, I'm so sorry for updating now because uh... I'm not that active anymore but I'll be happy if you still want to send a request! Hope this drabble or oneshot could make it up for disappearing.

It was Rin's idea, which took you thirty minutes to actually proceed with what he was saying after one of his soccer games. Usually, Rin has always been following you like a five year old him would to his big brother, as you have known his for years and this is where it clearly took you out when he asked you to watch a movie with him at his place.

”(name),” Rin glanced back at your laid back figure, slumped on his couch as if you owned it, a small drop of water dripping down his hair as he lazily rubbed his head with the towel that draped around his neck.

You scrolled down throughout every list of horror movies that could be found, ” do you have The Grudge?” Rin was mostly in charge of picking the movie but due to your stubbornness, he left you to do it instead.

” Already watched it.”

”woah- seriously? Without me, bro?”

” we watched it last Friday.” his face scrunched up when he heard the word ’bro’ coming out of your mouth.

” we did?” tilting your head a bit, clearly not remembering a thing.

” lukewarm.”

Munching on the popcorn that Rin prepared for you, ” I'm still upset you watched As The Gods Will without me, y'know? ” you looked up to see Rin walking to the couch and he grabbed the back of your shirt, lifting you up as if your weight is nothing to him then pushed you to the corner of the couch before he took a seat next to you.

”shut up.” he grabbed the remote from the coffee table, starting the movie before you could even protest.

Rin wasn't an affectionate person that's for sure, he doesn't really know how to be affectionate towards you, judging from the movement he kept doing during the movie started shows it all.

The movie wasn't that scary as there were a lot of bloody scenes that weren't necessary to the plot but it still gave you shivers due to the quiet atmosphere with Rin.

Therefore, it's really cold when there's no talking so Rin has already wrapped his hands around you, pulling you closer to him, he isn't very touchy but tried to make it the best of him.

” why does that ghost look like Ratatouil-”

” it's a ghost for fuck sake.”

Rin does not enjoy the time of watching the horror movie with you even though you guys watched movies together a lot, he had to clamp his palm to your mouth just so you won't question the whole movie to him as he regretted telling you that he has already seen the movie and just watching it again because it's a masterpiece (he didn't exactly state it but it's your perspective in the matter of way)

Moreover, he has already laid back on the couch with you on top of him, he draped the blanket over your body while your head laying still on his chest. The popcorn bucket is nowhere to be found as your only source urge to eat is only Rin fruit candy jar, which he slapped your hand before you could sneak your hand on it.

The movie continues as you start to get more drowsy to sleep but was shook awake when one of the actors yelled, ” I hope when I die, I don't look like ratatouille.” you yawn then spoke again, ”I want to look like a cool ghost instead." He hums in response, wondering how tf you got drunk by eating popcorn.

The rest of the movie went silent, Rin falls asleep soon after you entered your dream.

The next morning when Sae came home, he met with the ugly faces of his little brother and you, he snapped a picture quickly so that maybe he could blackmail his poor brother one day.

[birdietrait]

cairo helsing

[imerian]

Made this keychain while i was sad for Logan after the race. I'm so happy with the result and also i think doodles and references come out good ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

I put more pics under cut if you want to see!!!

There some photos without any drawings plus just doodles bc it's easy to miss something with how much I going on there 😭

Also i finally have plase to rumble about every little detail (tags)

[steampunk-raven]

one thing about drawing the posties is that (at least in my designs) raven and jill are wearing the most flamboyant brightly colored impractical outfits ever. then you have michael. dude in tshirt and jeans with a flannel jacket

[uhohdad]

titan headcannon? <3

⌜ KONIG X READER HUNGER GAMES AU ⌟

[4giorno]

omg the screenshots in this dream place are basically accurate 😭💖

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂

You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

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a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.