#this is mortifying but i'm trying to get over it

[tusk-rumours]

surprise, baby ☄︎*.⋆ — sam winchester x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: sams girl surprises him with something pretty, and sam can hardly take it.

warnings: nsfw, 18+!! fingering, p in v, swearing, shifts in dom/sub, incredibly horny writing

a/n: SURPRISE!!!! you thought this was over? lmao okay but seriously things happened and my need for sam got so bad that it healed my writing slump to the point that i picked up again so here's this!! it is taking a hell of a lot of bravery to post this so i’ll try my best not to delete it lmao, but man i want sam so bad i'm so hor— okay that's enough.

also i listened to the morning by the weeknd on repeat writing this, if that gives any indication as to where my mind was lmao. and this gif????? came.

Sam was honestly struggling to keep up with her. He loved it, god he loved it, but fuck it was a lot to handle. Couldn't she see what she was doing to him? She could. And that there was the problem. She relished in how he'd freeze when he saw her, how he'd fumble all over his words and stumble over his long legs when she beckoned him closer.

She'd been surprising Sam with lingerie constantly recently. Whether it was new sets she bought as a surprise, old sets, or even sets he bought her himself, Sam felt like he saw her in them more than actual clothes. There was nothing Sam could think of that would've given her this idea, nothing he said, nothing she said. But something had stirred in her cheeky brain a couple of weeks ago. Sam didn't know what the hell he did to deserve this kind of heaven, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

It started when she'd padded into the library in her fluffy dressing gown while he was researching. She'd stepped between his legs, pulling down the fluffy fabric at her chest and teasing a peek of the lace underneath. She let him unravel the knot like some sort of present, and soon enough he had the books on the floor, and her body laid out on the table with the fluffy fabric cushiony beneath her. He didn't know what the surprise was for, but he didn't question it, just relished in the treat he was getting.

Then it was the photos she sent while he was out investigating. In the bed they share, the camera angled down her lace-clad body. He almost choked on his drink when he saw that, quickly shielding the screen from Dean, before excusing himself. He stood in that bathroom stall for close to fifteen minutes, trying so goddamn hard not to pump himself right there with the picture of her on the screen in his hand.

Then it was the set she had on when he came back in the bedroom after some late-night research, perched on the bed. Then the path of her clothes from the library to their room, ending with her lacy panties by the door, which he opened to find her on the bed wearing nothing at all.

And then the several other times too.

She was being a tease. And he knew full well she was having more than just fun with this.

He should've expected it this time. Really, he should've. She'd been at the bunker researching all day while Sam and Dean were out playing FBI. Sam was already gonna drag her into bed that morning when she stood in front of him, doing up his tie and tightening it around his neck. She almost drooled when she saw him standing there, visions of that tie around her wrists, or even around his. Visions of those steam-ironed clothes crumpled on the floor, his bare hips snapping against hers. But not yet. That was for later.

By the end of a day of interviewing witnesses, assessing crime scenes and mulling it over in a diner, Dean decided to rest it over by spending the night at a bar. As for Cas, he very rarely dropped in without Dean there ever since he caught them both on the library table. She couldn't stop laughing, finding it even funnier whenever she looked up and saw Sam's red, mortified face. Cas had just stood there, before asking if they both wanted to be alone, which sent her into another fit, listening to Sam's exasperated 'yes!'. Once he left, they couldn't even pick up where they left off, Sam too horrified and she too hysterical.

So Sam had called her, telling her he'd be the only one home tonight, the ideas she'd get from that somehow slipping his mind.

So, yeah, he should've expected it when he shut the door of the bunker, heading down the stairs casually and into the library, before lifting his head up and stopping dead in his tracks. He stood frozen, his mouth open dumbly, his eyes just short of popping out of his damn head.

"...holy shit." He slipped out beneath his breath.

She giggled from where she lay on the couch. Stretched out on her back, her arms lazily on the pillows above her head. Her body in a pretty two-piece lace set that was completely sheer save for some embellishments here and there, with matching sheer thigh highs clad her legs up to her thighs, adorned with lace on the top.

He was gone.

His bag slipped off his shoulder to the floor with a thud, his mind lost in the way her legs shift, the way the mesh and lace cover her skin so perfectly. She just looked so sexy, it knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

He shut his eyes for a moment, huffing out a breath, steeling himself. Without a word, he's shrugging off his blazer. She bites her lip as she watches him, her fingers lightly feeling through her hair. The blazer falls to the floor, and those pretty fingers move to his tie, fumbling with the knot as he loosens it up, and god the way his veins flex with each little movement—.

She grins, watching him strip down in front of her. She didn't even have to say a word, or move, and she's already got him with his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pristine white shirt. She throws her head back with a huffy laugh.

"God, you're so fucking sexy, Sammy," She shakes her head, her gaze turning to him. His cheeks pinken, abashed at the way she compliments him.

Beneath her amused gaze, there's a fiery hunger, and it makes Sam completely weak as his hands move to the hem of his undershirt, pulling it up and off his head in an instant, his muscles flexing. Then that adds to the growing pile too, and he's before her bare from the waist up, and the things she wants to do to him when she sees him like this.

One of her arms lazily extends out towards him, beckoning him closer. Once he's close enough, her fingers grasp at his belt, making him gasp, his skin shuddering where her fingers brush. Her fingers work at the buckle, undoing it swiftly, her lip between her teeth in anticipation. Then she pulls at the belt, glancing up at him cheekily as she drags it through the loops until it dangles from her hand.

His breath catches in a startled whimper when the belt clanks to the floor and her fingers dip beneath the waistband of his jeans, tugging him even closer. She rolls onto her side slowly, resting her head on her hand, looking up at him through her lashes, his clothed dick so close to her mouth now.

"...You sure the couch is gonna— h—have enough room?" Jesus, how does she reduce him to such a stuttering mess like this so easily?

She just laughs, her thumb rubbing the skin by his happy trail.

"You have a better place you wanna take me, baby?"

Oh, god.

Even though the bed, or even the table, or the goddamn floor might be more practical, he doesn't care. He can't spare another second. He's crowding her space, mounting the couch and settling down on top of her, his hand grabbing her head and guiding her into a consuming, passionate kiss. His tongue wastes no time invading her mouth, and fuck she tastes so sweet. The upturn of her lips and the moan she lets out into his mouth only makes his cock throb harder within his jeans. Their bodies shift and writhe against each other desperately, both of them so ridiculously turned on.

That sneaky hand of hers is moving between them, finding the button of his jeans and popping it free, her fingers brushing against his sensitivity as she drags down the zip.

"Shit," He hisses, his nose scrunching in that perfect way.

His hand finds hers and pulls it away, pinning it back against the cushion. He wants to worship her. How can he not when she looks this goddamn good? And for him?

He drags his lips away from hers, taking her in again.

"God, baby, you're stunning. So fucking sexy. When'd you get this one?" He's panting, his breath chasing his words.

"Today," She muses, rubbing her fabric-covered calf against his leg. "Hoped it'd get this reaction."

"As if I would react any less, seeing you in this," His eyes are full of wonder, like he can't quite believe this perfect body and beauty that is his girl is beneath him. He can't stand his mouth not being on her for one more second.

He dives into her neck, relishing in the way she moans, her head turning to expose her neck. He sucks and nips, wanting to leave hickeys against the faded ones. His lips, tongue and teeth work feverishly down her neck to her collarbone, teeth dragging against the chain of her necklace, down to her breasts, covered by the black mesh fabric of her sheer bra, which does nothing to conceal her hardened nipples. God, that sight was just so fucking sexy to him.

She throws her head back in a moan when he starts licking one of her nipples through the mesh and lace in long, firm licks before he's sucking with his lips. His big hand squeezes the other, feeling and rubbing the thin fabric. Then he swaps over, and she's writhing, her fingers threading into his hair. The warmth of his tongue against the mesh is just too good of a sensation.

"Sam, fuck," She breathes, needing more. Needs those jeans of his off. So she takes.

He pulls his mouth away when he feels her trying to tug at his jeans, helping her get them off quickly. It relieves some of the pressure, but there was still so much restriction. He wouldn't be satisfied until he was buried deep inside her.

It's frantic, the way they touch each other, fingers fumbling with clothes.

"Shit, I don't even wanna take this off you baby, its too pretty," Sam mutters out, his actions contradicting his words as he fumbles with the clasp of her bra, throwing it somewhere in the direction of the floor.

She bites her lip. She loves being exposed to him. In a space where she feels equal amounts safe and sexy. Her palms flatten and run along the large expanse of his back, shimmying her hips to help him pull down her lacy panties. He doesn't bother with her thigh highs, whenever she wears something like that, he always prefers it staying on.

"Please, oh—" She moans into his ear, hips writhing against his with need.

"Baby, I gotta — fuck — gotta prep you first," He chokes out. He wants nothing more than to be inside her, but he needs to get her ready first. And feeling her slick on his fingers and the warmth of her pussy is an opportunity he never passes.

And so his hand runs down her body, squeezing her breast along the way, feeling her stomach shudder underneath his fingertips, teasing above the area between her legs. Then the pads of his fingers slide down firmly, and her moan is all kinds of sweet and dirty at the same time. He gathers her slick, and she's so goddamn wet, spreading it along her folds, settling on her clit and rubbing tight circles.

She bites her lip, her eyes shut and hips rolling into his hand, completely lost in the pleasure, and the sight of her like this is so fucking sexy, he's blabbering and cursing under his breath.

"Shit, you— you look too damn good, y— so hot, I can't—" It's all so overwhelming, but he needs more, so his fingers move to her entrance, slipping inside, stretching her gently. Her mewls are like a symphony to his ears, so sweet and perfect he'll be thinking about them for weeks.

"That good, baby?" He smiles, his lips brushing against her temple, feeling the sheen of sweat forming at her hairline.

"Uh huh, uh hu— oh," She can't even form words, her walls squeezing as her orgasm catches up to her fast. He feels it, moaning at the way she clenches and flutters. He knows the exact moment she comes, from her sounds, to the way her body tenses, and the way her legs jerk.

He watches her with awe, the sight of her blissed out face otherworldly to him. Usually he'd give her a few minutes to come down, but he's thrown off guard when her fingers fumble with his boxers, tugging and pulling.

"These, off," She demands, and god, who is he to refuse her?

So they join the pile on the floor. Her tiny black lingerie against his FBI suit.

She bites her lip, her gaze moving back to him. He's so hard, and perfect, and she's been fantasising about this sight all day.

Her gaze drags back up to his, heavy-lidded and sultry, and Sam needs to see the way her expression changes when he pushes into her.

"Sam, fuck me now." Her voice lowers, serious and commanding, and Sam would do the most embarrassing things imaginable if she asked him like that.

"Baby, I don't— don't have a condom on me," He whispers back. Always a man of safety.

"God, Sam, does that matter? We don't need one, it's fine," She reassures him, her hand in his hair.

She's right. It definitely wouldn't be the first time they've done it raw, and Sam'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little obsessed with taking her that way. They know what they're doing. It's fine.

Without a word he lines himself up, pushing into her, watching the way she smirks, her eyelids fluttering.

"That's it, honey," She breathes, a soft moan accompanying her words.

He's close to bottoming out when her mesh-clad legs wrap around his waist tightly, pulling him into her. He hisses, his grip on her hip tightening.

"F—fuck, you're insatiable,"

She just smirks, breathing hard as her limbs curl around him tight. She makes sure she's got his eyes on hers when she reinstates his point, arching her back and rolling her hips into his.

The broken, loud moan he lets out into her ear has her grin widening.

She continues her ministrations, forcing his eyes not to shut and to meet hers, no matter how much he wants to bury his face into her neck. Soon enough he's rolling his hips into hers, meeting her movements, the sensations only heightened by the intimacy of their connection.

Her expression is hungry, powerful, taking what she needs, and Sam is fucking mesmerised by the way her body moves so smoothly and sensually beneath him.

"God, baby, I—" He groans, feeling her squeeze so deliciously around him. "What're you doing to me?" He chokes out, then his forehead drops against hers, his hips picking up the pace, thrusting deeper.

The pretty moan she lets out turns into the sexiest giggle he's ever heard, and jesus, how is being so deep inside of her almost not enough?

"Oh, fuck—" He hisses. He's so goddamn close. He can feel her squeezing him harder, like a fucking vice, and he'd stay with her like that always if he could.

"Come for me, baby,"

That bed voice she uses is going to ruin him. It's impossible to hold back when she gives him permission like that, and it's all so overwhelming when he fills her up, warming her walls.

The sensation of him coming inside her so deep is just so good, and her second orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, moaning so sweetly, the pleasure all-consuming.

Their chests heave, their minds still so hazy with pleasure. However, Sam has enough consciousness to guide his lips to hers, moaning against her lips, the feel of them feather-soft, the taste of them so sweet. His tongue slides against hers, kissing her like he needs to feel every inch of her mouth to breathe.

"I should've known," He shakes his head affectionately, his tongue slipping into her mouth again.

Her lips upturn against his, and he won't even try to ask why she's doing this this time around, because he'll get the same answer as every other time: 'you complaining?'. So cryptic his girl was. But god if her playfulness didn't drive him wild.

Their mouths disconnect, and her tongue flicks out again to clear up a bit of saliva on his bottom lip. This girl.

"So, this really that fun for you, sweetheart?" He asks instead.

"Uh-huh," She muses cheekily. Of course she's not gonna elaborate. His baby could tell him to step off a cliff with no other instruction and he might just do it. He'd run around in circles just to be near her.

His fingers fix her hair up a little, his body making no move for round two.

"Don't tell me you're done with me already," She giggles. "We've got a whole bunker to ourselves, many unchristened places, and I've got plenty of stamina left in me, baby. So, can you keep up with me?"

...Fuck.

taglist <3 : @lanadelreyscokewhor3 @mxilkyways @saltcxrcle

[eregar]

banged out another one boys. if you're wanting a 'meeting the dark urge' fic that's more focused on gortash's pov and his relationship with bane, this one's for you.

Mature Rating | M/M | 5.0k words

[fogemorfem]

The worst thing about being a librarian is that sometimes you want books that can't be bought to the little library you work at. And then you have to let a whole bunch of colleagues at the big library know that you read Chinese fantasy smut. I have just had it confirmed by an email that a third specific person has been involved, and I wish they would stop following up, I don't want to know who else knows okay? Let me be blissfully unaware.

[caotictimmy]

🍏- ANON? MAYBE??? it's so late for me but reading your nsfw on Daisuke...UAAAGHHH SAAGHHH 🗣️ he's such a vocal man and the whole morning sex thing where he can't get into you quick enough .helpop helppp meeeee helpppp

(maybe this is a request? Maybe I'm just yapping lowkey??? But if you want to write on this, by all means go for it LMAO)

Giggling over Swansea being mortified while walking in on reader x daisuke getting it on, I imagine they don't notice him and Daisuke is getting all needy trying to keep his pace 🤞 That boy has never felt the touch of person romantically so I could onllllyyyy assume that he'd been sensitive his first time. Or like. Every time with reader- especially if they're still on the ship. He's trying to not make too much noise as everyone is asleep ☹️ his whiney ass is NOT making it through that night. Bonus if reader is nonchalant about it the next day at lunch. They're talking with someone about their poor love lives (finding people to stay with how long their jobs shipments are)- reader dropping shit like 'aw man yeah. if only there was someone to really understand me, y'know?'. As if Daisuke wasn't memorizing their insides and how they physically react to him with his body just last night 😭

HELP 🍏 ANON THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD I ALMOST FELL OFF MY BED. But this is Acually so smart. I always believe Daisuke gets lost in the sauce when you guys have sex. For the headcanon I was thinking they were known dating. But for this let’s pretend the crew doesn’t know Daisuke and reader are dating. The first kind middle part will be NSFW. But the rest should be NSFW. This will be done as a one shot. (I’ll also include your little bonus! Plus a little more:3)

What was that god damn noise..? Swansea thought. Irradiated as he heard a squeaking sound, an indescribable muffled sound coming along with it. For fucks sake he just wanted to get some rest! But those loud noises would not let the poor man drift to sleep. He was gonna put a stop to that noise. Once and for all.

Swansea swings his legs over the side of his bed, sitting up. Stretching his arms as he gets ready to investigate what the noise is, and where it’s coming from. He stands up, his back making a loud crack.( I love old man Swansea). He slips his slippers on. Grabbing and putting on his robe by the door. Slowly pushing the door open. Before silently shutting the door. The noise got louder. Even though the walls were paper thin. It still muffled some of the noise.

He tread carefully through the halls. Getting closer to the noise. Swansea could hear talking maybe? The squeaking of something getting louder the more he approaches. Wait. He’s getting closer to Daisuke’s room..? What the hell was that kid doing. He could hear a faint panting? He started walking a bit faster.

Daisuke’s door was cracked open. God was the kid hurt-. Oh… Oh dear god.. For the love of pony express why did he have to be the one to catch this scene. He could now clearly see what was happening now. God why him..? (Warning for what’s ahead will be NSFW)

“Nyyhhh… F-fuck you feel so good. G-god so good. Am I doing good? Mhm!.. a-am I doing good for you. Wanna make sure your feeling as ..ahh ~… as good as I am.” Daisuke whimpered out. His arms wrapped around your waist as he continues going his rough pace.

“Yes! O-oh fuck hah… doing so good for me!”, Your voice muffled as you were face first in your pillow. Daisuke’s body pressing against your back. Like he was trying to mold his body with you. A loud ‘plap’ sound being able to be heard.

Swansea felt his face contort in horror. He could feel his stomach twist in disgust. He definitely walked in on something he definitely shouldn’t have. So what did he do. He went back to his room. Staring at the ceiling with that petrified face still stuck on his face. To say he wasn’t able to sleep that night would be an understatement

-

“I feel like it’s impossible to date anyone with this crappy job.” Anya huffed in a frustrated tone. “I second to that.”, Curly sighed as he ate his crappy lunch.” Our shipments at a Minimum are 5 months! And it’s like we get a month or two back on earth, before they send us back to ship something!” Anya finished. The annoyed look on her face quite prominent.

“I get you Anya. I want to Acually spend time with someone and let them get to know me. But you can’t really do that on this floating rock.”, You said nonchalantly. You sure were letting Daisuke get to know you. All of you… Swansea thought. Trying not to gag at the imagie of what he witnessed last night.

You could feel Daisuke’s eyes turn to you. Lingering a bit longer than ‘just friends’. “Yeah man, it’s such a bummer!” Daisuke said. A light blush spread across his face as he said it. No one else except Swansea noticed.

“Say uh..” Anya started, looking up at you. “I saw you walking in here with a limp, you good?” She asked,her voice laced with concern. God why did you have to ask that Anya! Swansea cringed at her question. “Oh yea no I’m good! Just hit my leg on the wall while sleeping y’know.” You said. Hmh.. I’m sure you were doing some sort of sleeping. Swansea hurrying to finish his food. Quickly getting up to put his plate in the sink and immediately start work. He really just wants to take his mind off this..

-

“Swan-sea!” Daisuke said, dragging the two parts of Swansea’s name out. Swansea ignored Daisuke, continuing to work on the broken vent. “Dude did I do something wrong?” Swansea sighed. Since Daisuke wanted the truth he’ll get it.”For fucks sake Daisuke! Can you have them stop fucking like rabbits! I know you young people have your urges, but this has been going on for the past week. And it’s Saturday for crying out loud!” Swansea yelled.

“AND IF YOU FREAKS ARE GONNA KEEP GOING AT IT. AT LEAST KEEP THE DOOR SHUT AND BE QUIET. SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.” Swansea finished, catching his breath. Daisuke just stood there stunned.

“You.. you heard us..?” Daisuke asked, his mouth agape and his eyes shot wide. “I didn’t just hear you guys. Saw it to! Close the damn door next time!” Swansea said irritated. Daisuke continued to stand there embarrassed. “Swansea uh.. I-I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” Daisuke stuttered out. Still shocked about the revelation.

“Yeah you better be fucking sorry” Swansea muttered. Turning around before pausing. Sighing a bit. “At lest your getting some action in this hell hole. Reminds me of me and my wife.” He said. Before holding his fist out. “I’m only gonna do this once Daisuke.” Swansea said. Daisuke happily returned the fist bump.

“Now get the hell out of my sight for the rest of the day!” Swansea yelled. “Alright swan-sea!” Daisuke said, doing the same long period name thing. Swansea let out an annoyed sigh. At least the kid was happy…

[intoxicating-goddess]

TW - intox, somno, cnc, forced breeding

We're talking on a video call like we usually do in the evenings. I'm smoking a bowl to help wind down for the night. When I finish, you suggest I might want to do another. I've been really stressed out lately, it'd be helpful to have a little more, you tell me. I have been stressed lately, why not? I fill another bowl half way, but you convince me to make it another full one. After I'm done the second bowl, you can see how faded I am. I tell you that the weed is hitting me really hard and I think I'm gonna go lie down. You wish me well and say goodnight. I stumble through the house in a stoned haze, eventually making it into bed. I drowsily strip myself of my clothes before rolling over and falling asleep. I'm too deep in slumber to hear the door unlock. I gave you a spare key for emergencies, after all. You creep into my bedroom and see my naked body sprawled across the bed. You quietly take off your clothes and climb on top of me. Kissing your way down my back while running your hands all over my limp body. Feeling up my ass and tits and then finally, my pussy. I let out soft moans in my sleep. As you rub my clit and fondle my ass, I start to become wet. You then line yourself up with my slick entrance and ram your entire cock inside me. I wake with a scream, a concoction of panic and pleasure. As you begin violently thrusting, I try to get my bearings. My head is so dizzy and my body is so heavy. I let out a feeble scream as I try to resist, but it's no use. My body is far to weak and I can't put up a fight. I am pinned in place by the weight of your body on top of me. I have no idea who is inside me, but I can't seem to focus on anything but how good it feels. You lean down on top of me and begin grabbing at my breast. You pinch my nipple and I can't help but let out a moan. You chuckle softly between grunts, you know a filthy whore like me likes being used. Your thrusts are so hard and deep that it doesn't take long for me to cum on your cock. You continue to fuck me for what feels like hours. I am so out of it that I have no concept of time. I eventually let myself drown in the pleasure. It doesn't matter who is fucking me, the only thing that matters is how good it feels. After you've lost track of how many times you've made me to cum, you feel yourself get close. Your thrusts become faster and faster. You pull my hips hard against you, forcing your cock as deep into my pussy as possible. With a loud grunt, you let your load out inside me. You pull out and let my hips go, causing me to slump onto the bed. You watch as your seed seeps out of my throughly used pussy. You then put your clothes back on and leave, locking the door behind you. I lay in the wet patch knowing I should feel mortified, but instead I feel euphoric. Having my rapists seed pouring from my violated pussy turns me on all the more. It's not long before the exhaustion and intoxication lull me back into a deep sleep. I sleep well knowing my only purpose is to be a good cocksleeve. It doesn't matter if I'm conscious or not.

[pseudowho]

"Now, gently release the clutch as you press the accelerat-- gent--ly-- Yuu--ji--"

"--shi--t--I'm--try--ing--Na--Na--Min!"

"--lan--language, Yuu--Yuuji, a lamp-post! Brake!"

"Shit! I mean, fuck!"

Kento's voice rose, punctuating each lurching stall of the car in first gear. You watched in despair from a distance.

Kento's car, far too powerful in the hands of a teenager, jolted and hiccuped across the evening skyline. The once quiet car park was polluted with screeches and grinding.

You held your head in your hands, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Teaching Itadori Yuuji to drive was surely the 9th circle of hell.

Over the weeks prior, Kento had tried explaining the mechanics of driving more. He had tried explaining them less. He had tried showing Yuuji videos, and diagrams.

Kento had pulled his hair out, and even considered sitting Yuuji on his lap like a child, and encouraging Yuuji to press Kento's own feet upon the pedals.

You had told Kento that his last idea was utterly mad, and Kento had slumped in resignation and poured himself a second, bigger drink.

The drive back to Yuuji's dorms, at least, was smooth. Kento's shoulders were tense, mountains beneath navy twill. Yuuji looked awkward in the rearview mirror. He broke the silence with a mumble.

"Maybe...maybe I'm not ready to drive yet, Nanamin."

Quiet. The car purred to a stop at the traffic lights. Your eyes flicked to your husband. His voice was quiet, too; measured.

"Any new skill takes practice. It takes time, Yuuji. We'll go out again in a few days. I know you'll get there. I...I believe you'll get there."

And so, Kento and Yuuji did drive again. And again. And again. And again.

Kento came home more dishevelled each time; first, with mussed hair; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains; then, with mussed hair and sweatstains and a straggly, loose tie.

"Maybe he's not ready to drive yet," Kento grumbled into a whiskey one evening, his elbows planted on his knees and his head in one hand. He had dropped Yuuji home in a courtesy car this time.

His own car, with grisly tire arch damage, had been stretchered away to a mechanic as Yuuji bowed with tears in his eyes and stuttered promises of compensation.

Kento wouldn't hear a word of it, but you could see the fissures of anxiety rending him fragile. You could see the numbers racking up in his line of vision; the deep breath and wince as his insurance premiums rose.

"Maybe...maybe he just needs a bit of a push?" You mulled one night, as Kento sat on the sofa, obsessively researching methods to make Yuuji anything less than a hazard behind the wheel.

"Absolutely not," Kento grumbled, his face illuminated by his laptop. "What he needs is some control. Some self-discipline--"

"--Kento, come on, he's just a boy--"

"--and he'll be a man, soon!" Kento snapped, cold and dismissive. You gritted your teeth, knowing there was no arguing with him, when he was like this; when stress had rendered him dogmatic. You bit your tongue to stop the venom leaking out.

"Fine. Just...don't take it out on him."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento's tone was barely schooled. The air in the car ran thick with tension.

"So you press the clutch down, release the accelerator, and slip into second ge-- clutch down-- clutch down-- Yuuji!"

A horrible grind, a crunch, and a stall. Yuuji and Kento lurched forwards. Yuuji's mouth puckered up into a mortified grimace once more. In the back seat, you opened your mouth to reassure Yuuji, but Kento cut across.

"Enough. Enough. You're not ready, Yuuji. Perhaps you won't ever be."

You felt the same knives that Yuuji did. You turned to look at Kento, stunned. You heard, rather than saw, the tears brimming on Yuuji's lashes; his voice was thick as he spoke, barely audible.

"...'m sorry, Nanamin."

You waited until Yuuji was well inside his room, that evening, before you swept past Kento like a winter wind. Kento flinched, and turned to watch you go, silent. Minutes later, as he slid into bed to join you, the silence stretched longer, gravid and expectant. Eventually, Kento spoke.

"I just think...he needs a bit more control, and I'm...I'm sorry--"

"You can't control everything, Kento. Why are you apologising to me?"

It was Kento's turn to feel the knives.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento wouldn't have blamed Yuuji for abandoning the mission, and leaving him to die.

This woodland shrine, mountain-nestled and ravaged by time, had no business being as cursed as it was.

"Grade Two, my arse," spat Kento, staggering out onto the moss-gravel path, with blood dripping from his hands. They were crushed; agony, and Kento's face twisted in pain. He could hardly hold his blade, let alone holster it. "Yuuji-- you've got to get out of here--"

A peachy blur; a boot-gravel skrrrrrr. Yuuji skid out of the shrine, dropping to his haunches beside Kento.

"What do you mean 'you've' got to get out of here?" Yuuji yelped, dodging flung debris from the beast that followed them. Kento swore, reaching one mashed hand into his pocket for his car keys and--

-- Kento froze. He stared at his battered, bloody hands in mute horror. He looked up to his car, through the windscreen, and at the steering wheel which he could not turn,q and blanched.

Yuuji panted, slowly deflating as he watched Kento unravel.

Never before had he seen true horror seep into Nanami Kento. Never before had he watched the light leave Kento's eyes, to be replaced by the looming spectre of certain death.

It made Yuuji's heart clench; and Yuuji decided.

Kento grunted in surprise as Yuuji's hands shot into his tan pockets. "Yuuji-- Yuuji! What are you doing? Leave--"

"Get in the car," Yuuji ordered, already yanking Kento over slippery cobblestones by the elbow. The earth rumbled behind them, their time running short.

"--Yuuji-- you can't drive--"

Yuuji slammed his hands on the hood of the car, and roared, "Shut the fuck up, Nanamin! And get in the fucking car!"

Kento's jaw dropped, pearl-clutching, gravely offended. He opened his mouth to argue, and Yuuji interrupted, ripping the passenger door open and shoving Kento in (who made a muted little 'ouch') with no decorum.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, 'language Yuuji'-- shut the fuck up-- and do as you're told, Nanamin--"

A monstrous thing, a curse of a Curse, punched out of the shrine with explosive force, as Yuuji slammed himself into the drivers' seat.

Still being regarded by Kento with mute horror, Yuuji leaned over Kento and his mangled hands, and pulled his seatbelt on. Yuuji gripped the wheel, turned the key, and took a deep breath.

And boy, how he drove.

Kento's arms flung sideways, slung like an unstrung marionette as Yuuji shot the car into reverse with staggering speed, and spun it into forward facing, to wheel-screech and half-donuts.

Yuuji's foot hit the floor.

Kento barked encouragement at him, as their speed rose, and the creature chasing them sped up to match, with a roar muffled by engine roar.

"--clutch-- 3rd gear-- build your speed! 4th! Put your foot down! Good boy, Yuuji!

Yuuji turned the volume up-- the radio blared. The sound of thundering footsteps quickened behind them. So Yuuji jumped to 5th gear, and flew.

Yuuji grinned, whooping like a howler monkey, driving Kento through branches and over tiny cliffs, swerving trees and leaves and logs and stones and river bridges until--

"Shit-- Yuuji-- blind spot--"

Yuuji laughed, and Kento groaned into his forearm to see one of his wing mirrors ripped off and left behind, the car juddering and slamming and skidding until--

Crash!

The car broke through foliage into glorious daylight, skidding to a halt on an empty dirt road. Yuuji panted. Kento panted. The second wing mirror fell off. The engine smoked. Yuuji turned slowly to Kento, his face falling.

Kento huffed, a rueful half-smile on his bloodied face.

"Mrs.Nanamin said you just needed a push. I should have known. You always were a clutch hitter, Yuuji."

[whimsyvixen]

Ooh would you ever do a piece on like a riot cop/riot suppression officer? Just a big burly guy with a face covering helmet that wants nothing more than to pound some law and order into the mc

Men in uniform always have clutching my pearls. Abuse of authority kink makes me one sick woman but I can't help my desires. I want to be held down by a strong man, especially by one that is hellbent on putting me in my place~~⛓️😩

You have a very peculiar head on those shoulders, darling. I absolutely love it~ 🖤♥️. You actually gave me a bit of motivation to doodle something for this idea of yours. I can't offer you a story so this drabble is the best I can give you. I hope you like it ✌️💋💋💋!!

~

Red Velvet

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Riot police officer x female reader

⚠️ WARNINGS/TAGS⚠️: explicit content, yandere, dark smut, rape/non-con elements, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, mating press, forced breeding, slapping, dacryphilia, degradation, dirty talk.

You're shrieking and sobbing from the exquisite fucking being forced on you. It was too much! I couldn't do this anymore. You're trying to shove him away and pleading for him to be more gentle, your squirming doing little to disrupt the tempo of his pistoning hips.

Desperately, you threw your hand forward with all your might and your fist connected with his face. He let out a grunt of pain, holding his nose with one hand while he held you down with the other hand to pin you to the floor. Seeing him gingerly touch his nose to determine the damage, your struggles renewed to get away from him. Suddenly, a vicious backhand twisted your head to the side, your stunned face breaking out in more tears from the sting on your cheek.

"The hard way it is then," there is a vacant look in his eyes as he stares down at you, making you dread what he had in store for you. He is quick to grab the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest to fold you into a more obscene position.

He doesn't give you time to formulate a protest before your high pitched cries echo across the room once more as he jackhammers into your poor abused pussy, the filthy squelch of cock piercing the walls of your womanhood audible over the repeated slap of wet flesh clashing against one another. Tears blur the image of the riot police officer above you, his black attire pristine if not for the blood smeared across it.

Those poor people. They didn't deserve it and here you were, allowing the monster responsible for their deaths pound away at your insides like a common whore.

"I'm almost there, you rebellious little bitch," he hissed over you, his serpentine eyes fixated on his cock plundering the heated depths of your pussy. His brows scrunched in near pain as your cunt strangles his dick, your walls gripping the rod of flesh so tightly that it was almost hard to pull out of you when he shifted his hips back.

"I'm cumming inside this tight little pussy." He chuckled at your horrified expression, bringing one gloved hand down to rub your swollen clit tenderly before pinching it between his fingers. The action had your hips thrusting up, a mortifying moan escaping your lips as you shook from the painful pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he continued applying pressure to your sensitive nub, your mind no longer coherent as your body became a slave to his touch. Your hips started grinding shyly into his thrusts, unable to resist the decadent pleasure of a dick stretching your cunt and kissing your womb with every deep thrust.

"Good girl, let's end this, yeah?" He murmured sweetly, his harsh breathing muffled behind his mask. "I can feel my balls tightening up. Get ready for my load, bitch. You'll be drowning in it soon enough."

[magicians-abode]

"What flavor was it...?"

[Ken Takakura/Okarun x gn!reader]

Warnings: fluff - long fic(?

Sitting on his lap with each leg placed comfortably beside his as he sat on the soft mattress, you gently but generously applied lipgloss over your lips once again. "Don't look, alright? I'm watching you," you murmured, teasing the poor guy as he nodded, kepping his eyes tightly shut as you had instructed. By now both of you had lost count of how many times your lips had clashed together in a sweet dance, or how many times you had applied lipgloss over your soft lips, or how many times, due to his nerves, Ken had guessed the flavor incorrectly, making you reapply it once again and try over and over until he got the flavor right.

Having lipgloss wasn't just good for whenever you wanted to feel pretty, it was also good for teasing the hell out of your poor boyfriend, like right now, and you couldn't be more taken by the sight of his reddened cheeks as he patiently waited for you to say he could open his eyes again.

He nervously fixed his glasses over the bridge of his nose despite having them shut in a nervous gesture before speaking in a shaky and rather high-pitched voice. "A—are you done... yet?"

With a loud popˎˊ˗ of your lips, you set the tube of shiny gloss behind him on the bed and grin. "Yup, all ready." His eyes flutter open, and he fixes his glasses once again with timidity. His eyes meet yours as he does, but then, they fall to the culprit of his nerves, of his almost sweaty palms. He swore he could feel them begin to sweat, he swore it. And it was terribly embarrassing. Takakura gulped, and before he could say anything, you leaned back in, pressing your lips against his.

His hand moved up to cup your face shakily as he closed his eyes once more, and even though your lips felt like heaven itself and he oh so badly wanted to get lost in the dizzying feeling they caused, he made his best efforts to focus on what flavor you had reapplied on them just for him this time.

After a good minute or two, he pulls away, breathless and in slight awe of your kiss. "Is it... Cherry?" He whispers, trying to guess correctly.

"We already used the cherry-flavored one, pretty boy," you say with a teasing smile, and it makes him avert his eyes, hoping you can't notice just how embarrassed you make him feel. "L—let me try again..." he mutters bashfully, already leaning forward on his own. The hand on your cheek moves to hold onto the back of your head tenderly instead. It's sweet and gentle, almost like he's afraid to touch you too harshly and accidentally hurt you. He'd be mortified if it happened, that's for sure.

His lips move against yours with sweetness, and despite how nervous he feels, he makes sure to let it be known that he loves this by kissing you slowly and taking his time. Takakura's lips are surprisingly soft, making them addictive and so, so kissable. You feel his round glasses touch your nose as he tilts his face to the side to deepen the kiss slightly.

With furrowed brows in concentration, he mulls over about the flavor in his head. "They said it's not cherry... but... I'm not sure what it is." He tilts his head to the other side and gently leans forward. "Maybe... strawberry? Or grapes? It's so soft... their lips feel so nice..." he pulls away again, this time more confused than before. "I... are you s—sure it's not cherry flavored, (y/n)?" He mumbles tentatively "I—It's very sweet."

"I'm pretty sure. But... if you give up, I'll tell you." Takakura blinks and instinctively tries to look behind him at the small collection of flavored gloss you hid from his view but finds his face gently being guided back to face you. "Nuh-uh, that's cheating" you pout, and he nods, flustered by your gesture. "R—right, I'm sorry, I—I just can't... get it right." he stutters, scratching the back of his head.

"Well then, it's a good thing we have aaall day, right?" You smirk. "Let's try again."

After repeating the process of closing his eyes tightly, reapplying your lipgloss, and kissing once again, Ken pulls away, breathless, a small string of saliva connecting your lips. He wipes it away quickly, feeling his hands shake with embarrassment. "I— I think I got it" he quickly speaks, looking to the side. "Is it— Is it peach... maybe?" He squints, an eyebrow raised hoping to finally get it right this time around. His heart is going to explode if he doesn't; he can feel it, beating like a bird trapped inside a cage.

Clapping your hands together a few times in applause, you grin. "Yeah, you got it this time, Okarun!"

"N—no way!" He smiles brightly with excitement, but his cheerfulness is quickly replaced by confusion as he shakes his head. "Wait, really? Peach flavor? That... that's not what it tastes like."

"Well it's an artificial flavor, it's obviously not going to taste like the real thing" you flick his forehead playfully with clear amusement in your voice. He rubs his forehead, letting a soft "ow..." and looks into your eyes. "H—How many did I guess so far?" He smiles sweetly, and you can't help but realize how adorable he looks each time he does.

"Hm..." you look behind him at the ones you've already used "seems like we only tried four different ones" you answer, and his eyes widen comically.

"Four?! Just four?!" He feels his face heating up again and he gulps nervously. "But we've been here for a really long time!" He looks at the clock on your bedside table, which shows the numbers 5:34 p.m., you've been kissing for a whole hour already...

You laugh at his bashful reaction, finding it endearing. "What, you don't like kissing me for that long, Okarun?" You tease, obviously not meaning anything by it, but he's quick to shake his head.

"N—no, it's nothing like that! I really enjoy kissing you" his hands had moved down to gently rest over your hips "it's just... I don't know, I guess it's just really embarrassing..." mumbling softly, Ken looks away, avoiding your gaze.

"Well... if you need a break we can take one. Just say the word" you cup his face in your hands and stare lovingly at him, a gaze he returns just as intensely.

"N—no... I can— I can keep going. I want to keep going. I really... enjoy kissing you, (y/n)" he admits, and your lips stretch into a wide grin.

"Well then, let's keep going, shall we? We have like eight different flavors left for you to guess!"

"EIGHT?!" Takakura practically squeaks, but as he sees you grab a different tube of lipgloss, his eyes fall closed. "You're going to make me pass out" he stutters a protest, but in all honesty, despite feeling like his world was spinning each time he kissed you, he found it was a rather beautiful way to go if he did happen to die thanks to the embarrassment. He could keep kissing you for the rest of his life, nothing else really mattered at all.

(A/N: oh my gosh! This took a really long time and so much effort for me to finish. I didn't want to just leave it in my notes like so many other ones so I did my best. Please do tell me if there's anything wrong, I feel like reading it seems kinda funny but it could be just the fact that I've been re-reading it over and over to check for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!!)

[kkai-zen]

˖⋆࿐໋ you're sexy, i'm sexy!

summary: how do the blue lock boys meet you and get your number and/or a first date?

featuring: [separate] gn!reader x itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku & michael kaiser

contents: anime only spoilers!! fluff!, awkward-cute rin, drunk guy tries to flirt with reader (in oliver's), cheating ex-bf (kaiser), suggestive (kaiser), sae plays for re al, kaiser plays for bastard münchen

wc: 3.2k

a/n: this one took me a while to write! i decided to try writing for oliver for the first time, so lmk if i should write more for him :) also, thank you guys so much for 100 followers! sending you all much love~ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

⟢ itoshi rin...

Sees you, his new physical therapist, and almost falls in love at first sight.

Soccer is the most important thing to him, so why is it that his heart speeds up when you turn the corner?

(He swears his kick accuracy decreases when you watch him play, and it drives him crazy.)

He tries to push you out of his mind for months before even thinking about asking you for your number.

You’re wondering why Rin is sweating bullets during your latest session with him, but you think nothing of it until he gruffly asks for your number, holding out his phone. 

“Huh? You want my number?” 

You stare at him for a moment, a small smile slipping onto your lips. He nods, averting his gaze. “Oh! Sure, but- don’t you already have it?” 

Rin’s heart stops. 

“Huh?”

“...huh?”

Rin goes home that night so mortified that he can’t fall asleep.

Of course he already has your number, he curses in his head, tossing and turning in his bed. You’re his physical therapist, after all. It’d be natural to have already received your contact information from a manager or email or something of the like.

He can’t even look you in the eyes the next morning when he sees you, standing so pretty at the sidelines. Swearing as he misses a goal, ball slamming into the goalpost with a bang!, Rin catches your gaze and what’s left of his focus vanishes.

Before you know it, Rin’s striding off the field, towel slung over his shoulders. Mouth opening, you walk towards him—only for him to brush past you and disappear into the locker room. You frown.

A week goes by, and Rin is still ignoring you.

You sigh, scrolling through your phone. He’d been canceling sessions more often than not, you sulk. But at least he’s stopping by today.

“Your neck and shoulder muscles are tense,” you murmur, feeling around his upper body. Naturally, Rin stays silent, and you hesitate before saying, “Rin? Are you feeling okay? You haven’t been showing up to sessions as often, and you haven’t been…as concentrated during pra-”

He suddenly slams his hands down on the massage table he’s laying on, pushing himself up to face you, and you stumble backwards. Almost falling to the ground, you feel Rin’s muscular arm wrap around you, unexpectedly pulling you into his warm chest before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

Face flushed a bright pink, he stares into your wide eyes for a moment longer before promptly dropping his arm from your waist and speeding towards the door. “H-hey, Rin- wait!” You call after him, heart pounding in your ears, but he doesn’t stop. Chasing him down the hallway, you finally catch up to him, out of breath as you step in front of his broad body. 

Rin’s face is still bright pink. “Get out of the wa- mmpf!”

His eyes widen as you grab his cheeks, pulling his lips onto yours forcefully, kissing him until he’s out of breath. By the time you pull away, you’re both flushed, panting, and staring at each other with twin looks of nervousness. Rin forces his eyes away before mumbling a quiet,

“Saturday. I’ll pick you up at 7.” 

⟢ itoshi sae...

Sees you in the crowd during one of his games, wearing a jersey for the rival team.

You’re far too pretty to be cheering for those half-baked losers, he thinks, when the game ends 4-1.

(obviously Sae’s team, Re Al, wins.)

He finds you after the game, sulking at your team’s loss while waiting for one of your friends in the bathroom.

Sighing, you turn your head away from the large TV screens replaying highlights from the earlier game. You can’t believe Re Al won that hard against your team, you sulk. But you have to admit, some of the plays made by Re Al’s midfielder were incredible. What was that guy’s name again? Sei? No, it was-

“My name’s Itoshi Sae. Could I get your number?”

You look up from the floor to the calm voice, and you have to clench your jaw to keep it from dropping open. Re Al’s genius, pink-haired (very handsome, you decide) midfielder is standing right in front of you, phone held out. 

You stare at him for a moment longer before stammering out a “S-sure!” and taking his phone, typing your number into the contact information page and handing it back to him. He’s about to turn away, but before he can, you blurt out, “You made some amazing plays this game.”

Sae stops, teal gaze meeting yours with a certain intensity. Of course I did, he almost says, but stops himself last minute. “Thank you,” he utters instead. “But I can’t help but notice you’re a fan of the other team,” he continues, eyeing your jersey. 

You hesitate, turning a little pink. “I mean- yeah, I guess so…” you mumble reluctantly. “But y’know, I can still recognize and appreciate other good players.” You fidget with the hem of your jersey, blush steadily creeping over your face as Sae’s unwavering stare bores into you. 

You suddenly feel something warm settle over your shoulders, and you’re shocked to find Sae’s Re Al jacket draping over your figure. “Wear this to the next Re Al game,” Sae murmurs, fingers brushing across the fabric. “The next Re Al game? The one in France?” You say in disbelief. “Mhm,” he responds casually. “I’ll fly you out, if you want.” 

“I-I mean, sure, I’d be honored, but-” you begin, dumbfounded, but he’s tapping away at his phone already. “I’ll text my manager about it then,” Sae affirms, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice that left no room for argument. “Sure thing!” You force a smile over your shocked face. 

You’re sure nothing he can do will surprise you at this point—asking for your number, giving you his jacket, offering to fly you out to France, of all places.

But when he leans forward, breath hot against the shell of your ear whispering, “See you soon, gorgeous,” before walking away, your heart nearly bursts out of your chest. You manage a weak wave, eyes wide, slumping over against the wall in a red-faced daze when your friend walks out of the bathroom. 

“Hey, I just remembered! There was that one really hot midfielder- huh? What happened?!” 

⟢ nagi seishiro...

Runs into you in the manga section at a bookstore Reo dragged him to.

He notices you, standing on your tippy-toes trying to reach a volume on the top shelf.

He thinks that you’re so cute!

Usually wouldn't have done anything to help (since it’d be a hassle), but he notices you’re reaching for a volume of Bonobono, his favorite manga series that he also happens to be looking for...

You huff, hands on your hips, staring up at the final volume of Bonobono sitting on the top layer of the shelf. After two failed attempts, you’re still determined to get it, stretching out your arms in anticipation for your next try. But before you can reach up again, a lean, lengthy arm is reaching up to pluck it off the shelf with ease.

Huh? Spinning around, you come face-to-face with a broad chest, almost slamming into it.

Stumbling backwards into the bookshelf, you stare up into the stranger’s gray eyes. He’s cute, you think, blinking up at him. But when he vanishes with the final volume of Bonobono in hand, you’re fuming.

“H-hey! Come back!” You dart after him, following the head of fluffy white hair through the bookshelves.

When you finally catch up to him, out of breath, you point an accusing finger at him. “I was gonna get that!” You say with indignation, eyebrows furrowed. “So? I got it first,” he responds lazily. 

“Wha- shouldn’t you at least offer to give it back? You knew I was reaching for it!”

“…I still got it first though.”

“You-!”

Making a jump for the volume in his hand, your fingertips brush the corner of the book that he quickly pulls out of your reach. But rather than landing gracefully back on your feet, you land right on top of his feet. 

With a yelp, you grab onto the front of his hoodie to balance yourself but end up toppling backwards, crashing into the bookshelf behind you, pulling the white-haired stranger along. 

“Ugh…” you groan, eyes squeezed shut and head spinning. “Why couldn’t you have just given me the volume…” You feel a heavy weight on your body, peeking your eyes open to see the stranger pressed flush against you, face inches away from your own. 

“I told you, it’s mine.” 

Something about the way he says it sends shivers down your spine, and fortunately unfortunately, it reminds you of how handsome the stranger really is. “You got us in this position, so shouldn’t you do something to fix it?” He murmurs, edging his face ever so slightly closer to yours. The intimate proximity steals your breath away, and you feel your face burning with heat. “Uh-”

But he suddenly pulls away, and your heart throbs when the weight of his body dissipates. He turns around and you’re worried that he might run off again, but he fiddles with the volume of Bonobono before handing it to you. 

“See ya round, cutie.” 

You gape at him as he walks away, completely stupefied. You’ll never see that handsome stranger again, you think, and you can’t help the disappointment that sparks in the pit of your stomach. 

But when you crack open the cover and see a phone number scrawled messily on the first page, you can’t help the smile that peeks out on the corners of your lips.

⟢ mikage reo...

Meets you after you spill a cup of coffee on his shirt when you’re speeding to work.

Apologizing profusely, you grab handfuls of napkins and stuff them into his hands before racing off.

Reo is instantly charmed, thinking you’re so cute with your blushing face and flustered demeanor.

He comes back to the cafe every single morning for a week straight, searching for you. 

Almost gives up hope when, on a Friday morning…

What am I doing…Reo stifles a yawn. He’d been chasing after you since the fateful day you quite literally ran into him, hooked on finding out who you are. And now, here he is, sitting in a cafe at 7 AM hoping that you’ll magically stroll through the door-

Ding-ding!

The bell hanging at the door jingles when you walk in, every bit as beautiful as he remembers. Gawking at you for a moment as you order (a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso, he mentally notes), Reo can barely believe you’re standing right there before he leaps up, strolling towards you with an unhurried confidence.

You seem to be in a lot less of a rush this time around, waiting patiently for the barista to finish making your order as you check the time on your phone. 

“Excuse me?”

You look up, and Reo can feel his cheeks flush the faintest pink when he meets your gaze.  Before he can continue, your eyes light up with recognition. “Oh! You’re the guy I ran into last week!” You exclaim, embarrassment rushing to your face. “I’m so sorry about that…” you apologize profusely. 

“Ah, no worries, I wasn’t going anywhere important anyways,” he replies with a laugh. “Could I maybe buy you a drink, to make up for it?” You offer, and he chuckles. “No need, I don’t drink coffee.”

Cocking your head, you fix him with a look of confusion.

“You- don’t drink coffee?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh- then, what do you usually order here?” 

“Nothing.”

“Oh…um, do you just like the environment?”

“It’s not bad, I suppose.”

“A-ah, I see…”

You laugh nervously. “Are you wondering why I come here, then?” He asks, mirroring the tilt of your head. “Yeah, guess so,” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeve of your top.

“Well, the simple answer is you.” 

Huh? You freeze. Is he messing around? Almost laughing, you stop yourself only when you see the seriousness in his eyes. “I- I’m sorry?” You stammer out.

“I come here for you. I’ve wanted to talk to you since the day we ran into each other.” Reo says casually, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I wanted to ask if I could get your number, and maybe buy you a coffee sometime.” And he holds his phone out to you.

Blushing furiously, you take the phone with trembling fingers, entering your phone number and name into his contacts. “Yeah, that sounds great!” You manage, breathless. “Perfect. See you soon, then.” He beams at you and your heart melts in your chest.

“Yeah, see you soon!”

⟢ oliver aiku...

Sees you at the club, sittin’ pretty next to some creep who won’t stop bothering you for your number.

He’d been eyeing you for a while now, nursing a drink while sitting next to his rowdy teammates.

Decides to intervene when the drunk tries to put his hands on you.

Buys you a drink after the creep leaves, and strikes up a flirty nice conversation with you.

For some odd reason, he’s getting nervous talking to you...

“C’mon beautiful, just gimme your number,” the creep next to you belches, toothy grin widening. Wrinkling your nose, you lean away, the smell of alcohol on his breath burning your nose. “Uh- no thanks.” you mutter, disgusted at the guy. “Hey now- I’m a great guy!” He chortles drunkenly, and with a terrifying amount of audacity, suddenly reaches over to grab your arm.

“What the fu-?!” Snatching your arm back, you glare daggers at the guy who’s babbling on and on about bringing you back to his apartment. But before you can slap the guy—who’s now reaching for your thigh—a strong, broad hand grabs his wrist in a vice grip.

“You heard the lady. Get outta here, man.” 

You bring your attention to the deep voice, taken aback by the shiny heterochromatic eyes you see. 

“Hey, this isn’t your busi- urk!” The creep yelps as the stranger seizes the collar of his shirt, dragging him out of his seat. “I said, get lost.” He repeats coldly, pushing the drunkard backwards, who—with a squeak—promptly scurries away. Finally relaxing with a sigh, you readjust your top before turning to the stranger. 

“Thank you so much for dealing with that,” you say with relief. “No problem,” he smiles at you. “My name’s Oliver. Mind if I buy you a drink?” You huff out a laugh. “Please do.”

He takes the spot next to you, and suddenly, you don’t mind the proximity of the seat. “So, what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ out here all alone?” He asks smoothly, leaning forward. You raise an eyebrow. “Do you usually use cheesy one liners to pick up girls?” You reply with a snort, taking a sip of the drink he ordered you. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to get into my pants like the last guy.”

He stares at you for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Man, what a response,” he grins. “Can’t lie, that’s what I was going for. But now you’ve got me thinkin’ otherwise.”

“Thinking otherwise?”

“Yup.”

“...about what?”

“About how much I’d like to take you out to dinner.”

You pause. Eyes skimming over his figure, you realize how attractive Oliver actually is; tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular underneath his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, he’s exactly your type. 

You look into his eyes, tilting your head, before giving Oliver a smile that has his heart thumping strangely loud in his chest. “Hm. Buy me another drink, and then we can talk,” you say slyly, and he laughs again. “Whatever you want, pretty.”

And when you’re having easy conversion with Oliver over your umpteenth drink, you slip him your number written neatly on a napkin. 

“Bring me somewhere nice, ‘kay?” 

“Like I said, whatever you want, angel.” 

⟢ michael kaiser...

Notices you in the lounge of the fancy hotel he’s staying at, where you explain that you're trying to catch your boyfriend cheating.

Thinks you’re being ridiculous until some bonehead walks out of the elevator with a girl on his arm.

Part of him is glad you caught the cheating prick just so he could ask for your number.

You’re way too pretty for that guy, anyways.

(The girl on his arm is ogling Kaiser, too, just to add the cherry on top).

Blowing a strand of hair out of your face, you tap your foot impatiently waiting for your boyfriend—well, about-to-be-ex-boyfriend—who had apparently forgotten to turn off his location tonight. You already had suspicions that he’d been cheating on you for some time, and tonight is the night you decide to end things with that scumbag. 

You’re standing, staring at the elevator so intently that you don’t even notice the blonde-and-blue haired man sitting behind you with narrowed eyes.  “What on Earth are you waiting for?” He sighs to you, rubbing his temples. “The tapping of your foot is bothersome.” 

You turn, frowning. “Waiting for my cheating, soon-to-be-ex boyfriend to come out of the elevator.” 

“Seriously?” Kaiser is baffled. Firstly, you’re far too pretty for someone to cheat on you, he thinks. But secondly— “Why would you waste your time on the guy? Just break up and move on. Besides, what if he’s not even here?”

But suddenly, you both hear a ding!, and the elevator doors glide open to reveal your shitty (now ex-) boyfriend prancing out of the elevator, with some disheveled, barely dressed girl on his arm.

“Huh? Babe? What are you doing here?” Your ex gapes at you, suddenly snatching his arm away from the girl’s body. You scoff. “What are you doing here?” You spit back, eyes flicking between him and the girl. 

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I promise!” He swears, walking towards you. “Look, I-”

“Man, just shut up.”

Kaiser’s voice is cold, slicing right through his words. You hadn’t realized that he’d stood up right behind you until he slides a lean arm around your waist, tilting his head at your baffled ex. “Why does he look so surprised, my love?” He murmurs to you, just loud enough for your ex to hear. “You didn’t tell him that we’re together?”

You blink up into his cool blue eyes, swallowing with a dry throat. “I- I guess not,” you mumble. “Mm. I guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson when we get back to our room, sweetheart.” He smirks, and you flush red with the implication. 

“W-wait! Are you- Michael Kaiser? That famous soccer player from Bastard München?” The girl next to your ex gasps, eyes wide. Kaiser’s smirk only grows wider. “I am.”

Her hands fly to her mouth. “Oh my-! Can I- get your autograph? And, um- ” A smile toys at her lips. “Maybe, I could get your number, too?” She twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, batting her lashes at him. You nearly burst out laughing at her audacity.

Your ex’s jaw drops open. “Wha- but- you- ” he stutters at her, and Michael only offers a bare smile. “I’m already taken.” He squeezes your waist tighter, guiding you into the elevator. “Let’s go, angel.”

Puzzled, you let him walk you into the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, you expect him to pull his arm away—but he doesn’t. 

“Now, ready to learn your lesson, sweetheart?”

[whisperofwonder]

Comfortable

Uncomfortable domestic moments when you realize just how comfortable you are together, and how much he really cares about you

I just really love domesticity, okay? Even when it isn't pretty.

Featuring: Kuroo Tetsurou, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Miya Atsumu x reader

(a few potential triggers here, sorry!) TW: vomit / vomiting in Kuroo's ; blood/period in Ushijima's, then you'll have Atsumu's which is really just light and kind of goofy oops

KUROO TETSUROU

"Ugh," You moan as you reach to flush the toilet. You get to your feet and turn to find Tetsurou still hovering behind you. You grimace thinking about how he'd held your hair back just moments ago, as you released the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

He hands you a cup of water. "How are you feeling?" He asks as you rinse out your mouth - it's a silly question, all things considered, but you don't exactly have a snarky answer at hand.

"I'm sorry," You blurt instead, not quite sure how he can be looking at you with that almost tender expression on his face after witnessing that.

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks softly, reaching to unstick a sweaty strand of hair from your face.

"Because, it's so gross. You didn't have to come in here," You insist. "I'm an adult, and - you really shouldn't have to see that." You purposefully avoid glancing in the mirror. You don't even want to know what you must look like right now.

"But I don't want you to feel gross alone," He says as if it's simple. You open your mouth, searching for some kind of retort, but nothing comes. "I know you can take care of yourself, but you shouldn't have to," He continues. "Not when I'm right here."

It's so surprisingly sweet that you feel your face start to crumple. "Tetsu," You squeak out.

"Shh," He shushes you, "Just tell me what I can do. Do you need anything?"

"I just want to go back to bed," You admit, reaching out to grab the edge of the sink as you feel yourself begin to waver.

"Okay then," He says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he scoops you up in his arms, slowly carrying you back to the bedroom and setting you gently on top of your pillows. "Try to get some rest," He murmurs, pulling the blankets up over you. "I love you," He adds, brushing the hair away from your face.

"I love you too," You murmur back, leaning into his touch and the comfort of the knowledge that he'll always be right here.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

Your alarm feels even earlier than usual, and after confirming that it is indeed time to get up, you turn it off with a groan. You're feeling particularly at odds with the world already today, and part of you just wants to pull the covers over your head and go back to sleep. Instead, you slither out of bed, standing next to it as you check the e-mail notification that had popped up overnight.

"Oh," At the sound of his voice, you turn to look at Wakatoshi. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's looking at you with a slight frown on his face. "My love..." He gestures down at your side of the bed, and to your horror, you see a streak of red on the otherwise pristine sheets.

Suddenly, the way you're feeling is making a lot more sense. "Oh no," You drop your face in your hands, muffling your words. "That's absolutely disgusting. I'm so sorry." You don't even want to look at him, but at the sound of rustling sheets, you finally drop your hands. Your boyfriend is methodically stripping the bed.

"Why don't you get in the shower? I'll start washing these." He says matter-of-factly. There must be something in your expression, because you see his face soften. "It's alright. It's natural," He assures you.

"But-" You can't put into words how mortified you are. Natural or not, he shouldn't have to see it, much less clean it up. "At least let me do that," You insist finally, reaching for the pile of bedding.

"No," He twists away so that it's out of your reach, "I've got it. Just get in the shower, okay?"

"You shouldn't have to, though," You say more softly.

"I don't have to," He agrees. "I want to help you. Can I do that?"

You bite your lower lip, trying not to let your hormonally-charged emotions win this battle. "Okay," You say finally.

"Okay," He echoes you, dropping the sheets into the laundry basket before crossing the room back to you, gently taking your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll make you some tea to have with breakfast," He adds after he pulls away. "Will that help?"

"Yes," You whisper, the I-love-you hidden in his words practically echoing in your head. You can't resist pulling him back in for one more kiss, hoping he feels the I-love-you-too that you press into it.

MIYA ATSUMU

"Atsumu!" You knock on the bathroom door, "Are you soon done?" It's moments like these when you really regret that this apartment has only one bathroom.

"Just got in!" He shouts back above the sound of the running shower. You bite back a sigh. He's famous for his long, hot showers.

"I really have to go!" You call back. "Can't you make it quick?" You're on the verge of pacing back down the hallway, just to help you hold it in.

"The door isn't locked! Can't ya just come in and go?" You freeze. It might be silly, but it's an unspoken milestone that you haven't crossed yet - peeing in front of each other.

"But!" You groan.

"But what? Ya've seen me naked before," You can practically hear his smirk.

"Tsumu," You whine, but in a matter of moments, you open the door anyway. It's gotten to the point where you don't have much choice. With only a moment's hesitation, you put up the toilet lid.

"How was yer day?" Atsumu begins conversationally.

"We're not doing this," You say quickly. "I'm going, and then I'm leaving the bathroom."

You hear him sigh. "Want me to get out and pee too, so we're even?" He asks, completely serious.

"No!" You say quickly. "I'm leaving now." Before he can say anything else, you're closing the door behind you.

About 10 minutes later, Atsumu finds you in the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist as drips of water slip from his hair. "Guess we're a real couple now," He grins, leaning in and pressing a damp kiss to your lips.

"We weren't before?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"'Parently not. Didn't know it was such a big deal," He says with a smug grin. "How will I ever look at you the same again?"

"Hey!" You swat his bare shoulder indignantly. "It was your idea." You remind him.

"Guess so," He hums. "Know what? I think I still love ya just as much." His smile is softer somehow, despite the teasing glint in his eyes.

"Oh?" You ask, struggling to maintain your haughty expression.

"Yeah," He nods. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He leans in for a longer kiss, almost making you forget about the small puddle that's begun to form on the floor.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Alley (and Your Boyfriend?)

Minors, ageless and blank blogs do not interact. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. ~2.8k words

Jason Todd is your ex-boyfriend. Kind of. You dated, yeah, sure. But it was in high school, years ago now. You had moved away before the school year had finished, and both of you agreed to remain friends, to keep in touch.

Life had different plans for both of you. The last time you had been in Gotham was for his funeral, so you think you deserve some leeway if you're staring at the man across the bar who looks just like him. Well, not exactly like him.

You're supposed to be celebrating your new job in Gotham, the apartment you've finally unpacked with your friends, but his eyes.

You could never forget the color of Jason Todd's eyes. Not when he was your first everything. Not when you know how his eyes would glint before he stole a kiss. How they would shine as he whispered sweet nothings and pretty promises.

(Okay, so maybe he was more to you than you're willing to admit. Maybe he wasn't just kind of your boyfriend.)

You'd probably be lost in thought over the color of his eyes for the rest of night, if his gaze didn't happen to meet yours.

Heat spreads across your face, and you duck your head. Shit. He caught you staring. The big, attractive man across the bar who has the eyes of your dead ex-boyfriend caught you staring.

That's fine. Mortifying, yes, but you quickly focus back on whatever your friends are talking about, trying to play it off.

You're finishing your drink, hoping he brushed you off, when a low voice cuts in, "Can I buy you another drink?"

Your eyes snap up to meet Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Your train of thought halts to a stop, he's ever prettier up close.

Before you've even managed to find your words, your friends are pushing you up and out of your seat, scrambling over each other to agree that he can absolutely buy you a drink.

He tilts his head a little at you, feet firmly planted against the ground as he waits for you to answer, "Is that a yes from you, doll?"

"I– yes. Thanks," You stumble out, and you might have gone a little weak in the knees at his grin.

He guides you over to the bar, and holds up two fingers as the bartender comes over. "Whiskey, and whatever they want."

You ask for a refill of your drink and sit beside him at the bar before introducing yourself.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "I'm Jason."

"My ex was named Jason," You blurt out, then wince. That's probably not what anyone wants to hear when they're introducing themselves. And it's definitely not what they want to hear while trying to pick someone up at a bar.

He hums thoughtfully, "I don't remember breaking up with you."

You blink at him, is that some kind of a pick-up line? "No, I meant, I really dated someone named Jason in high school."

He grins at you, "I know. I was there."

You frown a little, "Like in the same class?"

He laughs. It's a really pretty sound, if you weren't so confused, you would have swooned, "No, doll. Don't tell me you don't recognize me?"

Your gaze hardens, "If this is some kind of a joke–"

He says your name, effectively cutting you off, "It's me."

"He died," You murmur, so quiet it almost gets lost under the beat of the music.

He shrugs, and pushes your drink towards you as the bartender sets it down, "I got better."

"Prove it," You retort, fingers tapping the glass of your drink. You're this close to up and leaving. It makes your stomach churn, not knowing what game this man is playing.

He gives you a familiar, lopsided grin, "Prove that I got better?"

You scoff and go to stand up, but you waver at how he actually seems upset over it.

"Hey, hey, wait," he protests, holding out an arm to block you from leaving, "We had our first kiss in the back of Wayne Manor, in that old gazebo covered in vines. You asked me out because I was so obviously head over heels for ya, but I was too scared to ask. You said you'd wait for me when your family moved, and I said I'd wait for you too."

Your breath hitches at his rambling, it's–all of it is true. Memories you held close to your chest but never let yourself relive because of how much they hurt, the bittersweetness of it all. "Jason," You breathe out.

He relaxes, and smiles at you, "Yeah."

"How are you..." You trail off, taking in every inch of him. How much he's grown. How much he's changed.

He rubs the back of his neck, "It's, uh, a long story. It's not very nice either."

You nod slowly, "We don't have to talk about it."

He looks genuinely surprised, "We don't?"

"No, it's just good to, you know, see you," You tell him. It's the truth, whatever story he's carrying, whatever events brought him here, doesn't really matter right now. Not as long as he's alive and in front of you.

"It's good to see you too," Jason tells you, and you feel butterflies when he reaches over to touch your thigh, "Hey, am I really your ex?"

The absurdity of the question makes you want to laugh, "It has been a while since we talked, Jason."

You do giggle when he actually pouts at you, "You said you'd come back to Gotham for me one day."

"I am back in Gotham," You point out, "Got an apartment here and everything."

Interest sparks in his eyes, "Yeah? You're staying around here?"

You hum noncommittally, "In Gotham at least."

It surprises you, how easy it is to slip back into a flowing conversation with him. You reminisce about your shared past, he asks you what you've been up to, how your life has been, and before you know it, your drinks are empty and the bar is informing you of it's last call.

"Can I walk you home," Jason asks, hovering at your side, "or call you a ride?"

Your friends had long since told you they were leaving, and you have the urge to make this night last a little longer. It may be selfish, to want to stay in sight of those eyes, but you let yourself be selfish, "Walk me home?"

The way his eyes sparkle tells you you made the right choice.

You really do mean for him just to walk you home. So you're not exactly sure how you ended up making out with your ex-boyfriend in a dirty alley way.

It makes your head spin, how his hands dig into your waist to tug you closer. How he chases your mouth every time you pull back to suck in a breath.

It's desperate, needy, and you want to keep your fingers curled into the cool leather of his jacket forever. Jason crowds your space, backing you towards the wall, he trails kisses down your jaw, occasionally nipping at your skin to leave pretty, bruised marks.

"Wait–" You start, digging your heels into the ground.

He pauses, and pulls back, "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't meant to–"

"No!" You practically shout, not wanting him to misunderstand, "it's just– the wall is dirty," You finish weakly.

He blinks, then grins at you, "Is that all you're worried about, doll? Just the wall?"

You nod, sheepish as you fidget with the zipper of his jacket.

He hums thoughtfully and kisses the crown of your head, "I got something for ya," he murmurs, tugging off his leather jacket.

Before you can ask what he's doing, he drapes the coat over your shoulders, and guides your arms through the sleeves, "There, better?"

"Better," You echo, much more willing to let him push you against the wall, to let him suck your pulse and press his hands under your clothes. The leather is soft, smells like him, and the bricks behind you don't even register as he presses against you.

You're both eager, both grasping at fabric and skin. Your eyes light up, when as you're licking a stripe up his neck, Jason tilts his head back and moans.

It's a noise you want to hear again, and when you take his ear between your teeth, you're rewarded with another sweet sound.

Neither of you waste any time to push aside the clothes you're wearing. Half-dressed and panting, you fumble with his belt in the empty alley. He doesn't hesitate to hike your leg over his hip, pressing sloppy kisses along your jaw.

"You're sure about this," Jason asks, lips hovering over the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.

"Yeah," You breathe out, tangling a hand in his hair to steady yourself, "Are you?"

"Never been more sure of anything," he says firmly, and bites down on your skin as if to seal his words as fact.

He's hungry, as he captures your mouth with another passionate kiss, and you're just as desperate and wanting. Desire pools in your gut as you grind your hips into his, voice pitching into a whine, "Please?"

The neediness in your eyes when you look up at him nearly makes his knees buckle, "Fuck, yes, doll. Whatever you want."

He's not one to make you ask again, and shamelessly presses a finger to your cunt. "Look at you," he breathes out, slowly pumping one finger in and out, gathering your wetness, "You're dripping."

You don't bother choking back the whine that escapes your lungs, only grab his hair tighter when he adds a second finger, carefully working you open for him.

His eyes, your breath catches, when his eyes seem to darken, coveting every reaction you have, every expression that flits across your face.

"Feels good, doll'" he coaxes, scissoring his fingers. When all you manage is a hazy nod, he grins and adds a third finger, curling them as he presses deeper, "C'mon, you can use your words."

"Jason, yeah, feels good," You answer, breathless and full of desire. You squirm, bucking your hips into his hand in an attempt to get him to move faster, "but I want you."

He hums thoughtfully, and presses the palm of his hand to your clit, grinding into the sensitive flesh. When your eyes flutter and your body clenches around him, he coos in approval.

"Good," he says fondly, pressing a kiss to your lips before slowly pulling his fingers away. You almost pout at the loss, but the sight of him lewdly licking off the remnants of you in his hand more than makes up for it.

Your jaw may have dropped, and you may have looked a little more dumbfounded than you're willing to admit, but any embarrassment turns to excitement when he lines his cock up to your weeping pussy.

Neither of you looks away as he pushes into you, inch by delicious inch. It turns you into a whimpering, groaning mess as you sigh out his name, eyes half lidded.

“Yeah, pretty,” He prompts, voice a low rumble as he watches you. He can't pick which sight he likes better, the way your eyes flutter, or the way you're greedily taking in everything he has to give.

He can’t help the smug smirk that spreads over his face when you mewl out his name, clearly delighted at the effect he has on you. “There you go, Doll. Let me hear you say my name again," He coos, trailing his free hand over your thigh to find your clit again.

You're eager to chant his name again when he starts to shallowly thrust between your legs. He moans when you clamp down around his dick, and it spurs him to move faster.

Jason groans deeply as he feels your body react, his eyes darkening with desire as he pushes into you again. You both breathe out a sigh of relief and ecstasy when you take him to the base of his cock.

"Good. Doing so good, doll," he mumbles, using all his self-control to hold the pressure against your cervix for a few moments, letting you adjust, before pulling back slightly.

You tug a little at his hair, it's addicting, how full he makes you feel, how desperate you are for more, "You can move, want you to move."

He hums, and seems more interested in moving his mouth along your jaw, biting and sucking his way down your neck to leave marks on your skin. Jason sucks a prominent bruise onto your freshly bitten skin until it’s pretty and bruised and all his.

You groan, and it only encourages him to drag his hand from your folds and pinch your nipple between his fingers.

"Jason," You protest, rolling your hips to try and entice him to finally move.

“Mhm. You like the sound of my name, pretty? You wanna keep saying it while I make you feel good?” He murmurs, his voice low and rough and breathless against your skin.

He starts to roll your nipple between his fingers, pinching and kneading the sensitive peak.

"Jason, move'" You whine, almost desperate. His eyes lock on your eyes, and you're completely lost to him.

His thumb gives your nipple one last swipe before he settles his hand between your thighs again, eyes raking over your face like he wants to memorize the expression of pleasure that’s taking over at the moment, "There you go, it sounds so perfect when you say my name like that."

His other hand squeezes your thigh affectionately, and before you can protest again, he pulls halfway out, savoring how you twitch around him. You cry out in pure pleasure when he thrusts back into your heat.

He swallows your cries with a kiss, and starts to pick up his pace, steady and relentless.

You can only tip your head back and moan, as you drag your nails along his scalp, panting and trembling under his grip.

“So goddamn good,” Jason mutters, pressing himself as deep as he can go with every movement. He starts to ramble your name, driving his cock against the spot that makes you gasp over and over.

He's relentless, all consuming and you almost miss it when he murmurs against your throat, "Not your ex now, am I?"

You curse, and shudder around him, clawing at his shoulder. It doesn't make his pace falter, if anything it drives him to push a little more, to move a little fast, to test your limits.

You feel his pleased smile form against your skin when you start to chant his name, breathless and needy and so, so close to the edge.

"There ya go, come for me, doll," he encourages, and when you do, when you soak his cock and sob his name, he fucks you through your climax.

He ruts into your fluttering hole until his own hips stutter, his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and he cums inside of you. He rides out both of your releases, fucking his spend back into you even as it starts to leak and drip down your thighs.

Jason presses his forehead to yours, going still against you, his eyes dart over your face as you both pant, sticky, sweaty, and messy. He grins at you when you blink at him with glassy eyes, "You look good like this. I could see it every day, and it still wouldn't be enough."

You're not exactly sure where he finds the energy to praise you, but it makes you tuck your face against his shoulder as you catch your breath.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, "Gonna take you home and run you a bath. Then, we're gonna cuddle till you fall asleep and I'll make you breakfast in the morning. Sound good?"

You whine softly when he pulls out of you, already mourning the feeling of him inside you, but you manage to nod.

True to his word, Jason carries you home and draws you a bath. You fall asleep with him curled around you, and when you wake up, the sound of him cooking breakfast makes its way to the bedroom.

And if you entice him to bend you over the counter before you eat, letting the food go cold, or suggest you show him just how well you fit in his lap, that's none one's business but yours.

It shouldn't surprise you, if you do encourage him to find out what you taste like on his tongue, that Jason never really leaves. Sooner rather than later, he'll make sure any use of the word 'ex' disappears from your lips.

[wisssp]

think about walking into the kitchen of the burrow, intending to make a cup of tea but instead, you find yourself interrupting a rather heated discussion between three of five Weasley boys.

"sorry, should I go?" you kinda laugh, trying to ease the tension. Bill crosses his arms and draws in a breath.

"no. no. do not bring her into this." Fred cuts him off while George brings his fingers to his temples.

"no, fuck you. i'm asking her." Bill barks at Fred and turns to you.

"so when you're fucking a guy and he's behind you..." George's hand clamps over Bill's mouth as Fred's eyes go wide, almost like they're both mortified. Bill finally wrestles off the maniac and goes to finish his sentence.

"as i was saying; when you're intimate with a man and you vocalize that you like something, you don't want him to stop that thing, right?" Bill gets out his question while simultaneously fighting off the boys. Once it's hanging in the air, they all fall silent and look at you expectantly.

"well...right. if it's a good flow, why ruin the flow?" you try to stay neutral, not knowing where this conversation is going.

"okay see?" Bill looks back at George and Fred, starting up their little argument once more.

"so what kinds of things are we talking about?" a new voice chimes into the conversation.

Charlie.

"Freddy here was just asking for advice and he didn't believe my opinions were correct, so i brought in the opposite sex for further investigation." Bill straightens his shoulders out as Charlie walks closer. they hug and Charlie turns to you, his eyes trailing up and down your figure while you feel your face heating up.

"and what did miss sex expert have to say?" he smirks at your blushed cheeks. you look up at him through your eyelashes and smile innocently.

"why tell you when i could show you?"

[luveline]

𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k] 

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision. 

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice. 

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick." 

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?" 

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?" 

"What?" 

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound. 

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges." 

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer. 

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you." 

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you." 

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you." 

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool. 

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that." 

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?" 

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too. 

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?" 

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?" 

"Did you?" 

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely. 

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time." 

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to. 

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm. 

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt." 

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second. 

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight. 

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours. 

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks. 

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it. 

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like." 

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay." 

"Yeah?" 

"It doesn't hurt?" 

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign." 

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do. 

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out. 

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap." 

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though." 

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you. 

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies. 

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks. 

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively. 

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too." 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest. 

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please." 

"I'm really warm." 

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there. 

You take a deep breath. 

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone. 

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls. 

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side. 

"Look up," he murmurs. 

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes. 

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.  

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake. 

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair. 

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore. 

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight. 

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters. 

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face. 

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask. 

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?" 

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch. 

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please." 

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs. 

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?" 

"What for?" 

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him. 

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel. 

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?" 

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it. 

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?" 

"I didn't know they weren't real." 

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up." 

Your mind blanks. 

"Make sure I can hide it," you say. 

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole. 

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking. 

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return. 

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't. 

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be. 

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?" 

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light. 

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens. 

"Was that so hard?" he asks. 

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness. 

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have." 

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you." 

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself. 

"I'm not good?" you ask. 

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders. 

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face. 

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks. 

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped. 

Wiped, but good. Lax. 

"That was nice," you say breathlessly. 

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile. 

"You're like a dead fish." 

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over." 

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started." 

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth. 

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug. 

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked." 

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened. 

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea." 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

[satellite-evans]

Caught in the Act

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife, his muse, are interrupted by his mischievous sister Eloise during a private painting session.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff, Eloise being a tease

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton residence was always buzzing with activity. Whether it was the younger siblings running through the halls or the older siblings preparing for yet another social event, there was never a dull moment. Amidst this lively chaos, Benedict Bridgerton found his moments of peace and creativity in his art studio, tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate.

It was in this sanctuary that he often invited you, his beloved wife and muse, to pose for him. Today was no different. The soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Benedict stood at his easel, his eyes intensely focused on the canvas before him. You reclined on a chaise lounge, draped in a delicate, nearly translucent gown that accentuated your natural grace and beauty.

"Benedict," you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of anxiety, "are you sure it's not too risky to do this here? Anyone could walk in."

He looked up from his work, his gaze tender as he regarded you. "We’ve done this before without any issues. Besides, the light in here is perfect, and you look absolutely stunning. Trust me, my love, everything will be fine."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, but if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that always managed to calm your nerves. "Fair enough."

The room settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft swishing of Benedict's brush and the occasional rustle of your gown. You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand moving with practiced ease. It was in these quiet moments that you felt closest to him, sharing a connection that went beyond words.

ust as he was about to add the finishing touches, the door to the studio burst open. Eloise Bridgerton, ever the inquisitive and outspoken sibling, strode in without a second thought.

"Benedict, have you seen—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. "Oh."

Benedict froze, his brush hovering in mid-air. You quickly pulled the shawl you had draped over your shoulders tighter, your cheeks flushing with mortification as you realized just how exposed you were.

"Eloise!" Benedict exclaimed, clearly flustered. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Eloise's shock quickly gave way to a mischievous grin. "I didn't realize I needed to knock in my own home. But now I see why I should."

You buried your face in your hands, feeling utterly mortified. Benedict, on the other hand, looked equally embarrassed. He set his brush down and moved to stand protectively in front of you.

"Eloise, what do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I was looking for a book," she said, still grinning. "But I suppose it can wait."

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, it can. Now, if you don't mind—"

"Oh, don't worry," Eloise interrupted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to your... art."

With that, she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You and Benedict stared at each other for a moment before you buried your face in your hands again.

"I can't believe that just happened," you groaned, your voice muffled.

Benedict gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should have been more careful."

"You think?" you replied, half-joking, half-serious. "I am never posing in this house again. That was mortifying."

Benedict hugged you tightly, his arms offering comfort. "I promise, next time we'll find somewhere more private. But you have to admit, it does make for a memorable story."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself. "I suppose so."

Later that evening, the Bridgerton family gathered for an informal dinner. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of cheerful conversation and laughter. You sat beside Benedict, your hand resting comfortably on his under the table.

Eloise, ever the mischief-maker, caught your eye and winked. You felt a blush creep up your neck as you recalled the earlier incident. Benedict squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

"So, Benedict," Eloise began, her voice dripping with innocent curiosity, "how's your latest painting coming along?"

Benedict shot her a warning glance, but she merely raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "It's coming along quite well, thank you," he replied evenly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's wonderful," Daphne chimed in, not noticing the undercurrent of the conversation. "Your work is always so impressive."

"Indeed," Anthony added, his tone more serious. "You've truly found your calling, brother."

Violet Bridgerton, ever the attentive matriarch, picked up on the tension. "Benedict, dear, you should show us your latest work soon."

Eloise leaned forward, her tone light and playful. "I suppose it's easier to be passionate when you have such a... captivating subject. Isn't that right, sister?"

You nearly choked on your wine, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—um, well..."

Benedict shot Eloise a warning look. "That's enough, Eloise."

Eloise just smiled sweetly. "I'm only saying, you must find it very inspiring."

Violet's eyes twinkled with understanding. "Eloise, that is quite enough. Perhaps you should leave your brother and his wife in peace."

Colin, always quick to join in the fun, leaned back in his chair. "I'd love to see the painting. It must be quite the masterpiece if it has caused such a stir."

yacinth, always eager to be part of any conversation, piped up. "Can we see it, Benedict? Please?"

Gregory, not to be outdone by his younger sister, added, "Yes, show us! We promise to be quiet and not interrupt next time."

You buried your face in your hands again, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Oh my goodness," you murmured, mortified.

You truly never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.

The conversation shifted to other topics, and the rest of the family seemed unaware of the underlying tension. You couldn't help but steal glances at Benedict, admiring his composure. Despite the earlier embarrassment, you felt a deep sense of pride in being a part of his world.

After dinner, as the family dispersed, Benedict took your hand and led you outside to the garden. The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. He guided you to a secluded bench, where you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Eloise earlier," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, smiling. "It's alright, Benedict. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

He chuckled softly. "True. Still, I wish we could have more moments just for us."

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We will. And until then, I'll cherish every second we have together, even the interrupted ones."

Benedict turned to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. "You are my muse, my love. And I am forever grateful for you."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the garden, creating a perfect backdrop for the tender moment you shared. Wrapped in each other's arms, you felt an unspoken promise pass between you—a promise of love, support, and a future filled with countless more beautiful moments, whether they were stolen in secret or shared with the world.

[urstruly-ghst]

have you ever tried this one ?! - 3rd years

in which you remember the song 'juno' and start to perform in your bedroom. forgetting you invited someone over.

author's note: (not edited, just thoughts) i promise, im trying to churn the fics. but hehe... i got the idea from my brainrot of crowley bringing your world's music to you.

content: can be read platonic/romantic (leaning on romantic), gn! reader, suggestive (its juno positions, what did u expect ?!)

As you stay in the privacy of your own room, you remember the old playlist Crowley gave you. You roll your eyes, out the of the many ways Crowley can help... He brings you music? He stresses that "It is a good way to connect with your home! And, who knows, this is a key to get you back?"

He said that and still insists he can't find a way. However, one step closer, right? You sigh and look at the limited music that was summoned. Looking at the music choices, you laugh as you saw "Juno." You decide to chime in and remember how you performed it back in your own privacy.

"Have you ever tried this one?" You say in a very flirty tone as you strike a pose, similar to what Sabrina would do in her tour. Mortified, you saw someone at the door.

trey clover

being confident in your own privacy, you dance and be as sensual as you want. usually, you wouldn't. but hey, a bit fun never killed anyone? plus, the position you pulled was fairly tame. it was just you pushing your butt a bit more out there, which may have shown something...

you gasp as you realize trey was there, standing, mortified and red. he looked shocked as the song in the background still played. it came to the part where Sabrina declares she was "so fucking horny." you were still in that specific pose before you stood up apologizing. trey coughed and shook his head, trying to shake off the image of you being that sensual.

"the look in their eyes, oh sevens. and the way that pose with uh.." trey's thoughts grow frantic as he apologized and tried to close the door

"prefect! i'm so sorry! let me just... next time, maybe lock the door? that was.. quite the show." you can basically hear the smirk.

cater diamond

cater was vlogging on the way to the dorm and to your room. he was hearing how you sang from the hall, he was excited to catch you off guard with a video. he giggled at his plan and barged in, but as he barged in, you were posing with that flirty tone cooing out of your mouth.

he nearly dropped his phone and his mouth was agape. your pose was so perfectly tame and lewd, he couldn't help but loose some air. cater tried to cover his eyes and try to laugh it off

"dear sevens, not now. don't let my imagination do the rest!" cater begs in his mind as he tried to grab his phone and shuffle out the door.

"nice voice though, bestie! uhm... maybe learn to lock things? that wasn't really... uhm. ah! let me just edit this, don't worry i won't post it!"

leona kingscholar

leona was annoyed how he had to get out of his nap. however, your dorm was oddly very comfortable, and you invited him over. it won't hurt, right? he stalks the halls, annoyed how you didn't bother to see if he arrived.

hearing your footsteps, he heard some tunes and decided to open the door to your room. leona was about to complain when you both were caught in a stare down of a very explicit pose. you were quiet and tried to make yourself decent before

*slam* leona closed the door. he was appalled and a bit too invested in the pose you just did. his tail was swishing around and he tried to avoid the heat building up, "what a show" he thought

"if you're gonna invite me to do that, wine and dine me first, herbivore. as a prince, i expect better" he teased

vil schoenheit

vil was expecting that you'd remember his promise of pampering. as vil walked to your room, he was wondering why you haven't noticed the way he nagging. vil made sure his voice was heard.

imagine his horror when he bursts the door open and see such a vulgar display of yourself towards him, though he did have to give where credit is due. you performed well and... got the reaction you wanted.

"hmm. not bad, that did get a reaction from me. ah, i got bested once more" vil thought as you scramble to be more decent, vil's glare causing you to hurry up. but that didn't stop the song to continue playing.

"horny? potato, what are these songs? hm, but your performance... i have some strong words" vil said as he listened in, you blush and turned it off.

rook hunt

let's be honest, he was watching the whole performance. your invitation was just a signal of when he will arrive at your door. he notes each note and decided to watch the spectacular performance up close.

as rook bursts through your door, he was blushing at the fact he realized that the innuendos were becoming serious. he was shocked to see you in such a pose. but that pose!

"ah, such perfect angles. if only i could've captured this moment, what a waste!" he thinks as he tries to take in the view of your pose.

"ah! my dear prefect! what a show! and that pose, such grace and vulgarity! and what's this? you are willing to try it?" rook said with so much enthusiasm. you glare.

idia shroud

he was honestly just about to ask something but that question died when he entered the room. he was floored when all you did was something not even his idols would dare to do.

idia didn't know what to do but panic and yelp as you try to calm him down in case he'd faint (he was close to doing so). your pose was now ingrained in his mind, he can't remove how your eyes and...

"oh sevens! oh sevens! that was so?!! oh im... is it obvious?!" idia panics as he pulls down his hoodie before overheating and tripping to the door.

"stupid... you should've locked the door. now i forgot why am i even here and-" idia tried to push his hoodie and hide somewhere

malleus draconia

he was excited to see you as he heard how you were singing and performing, he found the first lyrics odd, but he was strolling with ease. malleus just wanted to check up on you, and the shock he felt when you were posing

at first, he tried to be reasonable. but as his ears cannot deceive him, and his eyes too. he was shocked and speechless and the way you were displayed. you gasp and realize you nearly flashed the strongest one among the student body.

"how do i tell my child of man the implications of their words and actions?" malleus worries as he felt the blush creep in at the awkward situation they were in. he coughed and offered some space as he stood in front of the door

"does that mean... no. but ah, i can't have such feelings just yet. what enchantment has my dear done?" malleus said embarrassed.

lilia vanrouge

lilia was like rook, he saw it from a mile away. however, unlike rook, he was willing to not barge in. lilia calmly stalked you and appeared upside by your door. however, he was shocked and nearly fell at the display.

that pose and flirty tone was enough to cause such scandals. you yelp and try to stand up as quick as you can as lilia giggled at the notion. he went down on the ground and tried to calm your frantic explanations, humming alongside the song. he found it good.

"oh! that is quite a display. hmm, do they know how scandalous they are being right now? and quite the nice melody over something so raunchy." lilia giggled as he smirked as the song played on.

"quite the scandal, dear. keep the door locked next time, fufufufu~ though, i must say, the song is quite a treat. i would love to learn it on my guitar, i can hear that guitar solo after~"

[dcxdpdabbles]

I reread Dauntless Matchmaker recently and I love it, could you please make another part? Either that or another part for One Hell of a Bellhop, Legal Compensation, or Mr Flavors Soda, any of the above would be great, your choice ^-^

Danny skips up the stairs towards Wayne Manor's front entrance with a binder, a few notebooks, and his laptop tucked away in his carry bag. Humming under his breath, he raises his hand to knock. Before he can touch the wood, the door swings open to the beaming face of his fake boyfriend, Tim Drake.

"Hi!" The other gasps breathlessly. He adjusts his cardigan from where it had fallen off his left shoulder. Danny has noticed something about Tim. He was always so nervous and clumsy. The poor thing was taking his heartbreak badly.

"Hi, Tim." Danny grins. He holds up his NASA theme bag with pride. "I brought the stuff!"

His boss' brother lets out a string of nervous chuckles that slowly dissolve, coughing when he chokes on his spit. Alarmed, Danny started smacking his back in hopes of helping. He wishes he could say this was a one-time thing, but Tim, unfortunately, does this often.

"Master Tim?" Alfred calls from down the left hallway.

"I'm fine! Everything-cough-hack- everything is fine!" Tim screams back, entirely red and looking a tad bit mortified. Clearing his throat, he straightens to full height, back pin straight and looking every bit the young gentleman of his standing. "Shall we move to the viewing room?"

Danny knows he's only trying to save face, so he only smiles and steps inside. As they had agreed on two weeks ago, Danny loops his arm through Tim's, pressing himself close to the other's side, just as Alfred walks by.

The aged man seems pleased to see them so affectionate, which Damian said Danny had to play up because otherwise, it would not be believable. Tim only dated men and women who showed their care through physical touch, and he was often seen holding hands or looping arms with his partners.

As it is, Tim does his part well, beaming up at Danny. He was taller after hitting a second growth spurt, but sadly, he seemed to take after his mother rather than his father. Danny was only two inches taller than Tim.

On the other hand, Jazz grew like a weed. Once it became apparent, she took after Jack in height. Dan's appearance gave Danny hope that he would break the six-foot mark in a few years—you know, if the madness and devouring Plasmius didn't affect his development too much.

"What are you showing me today?" Tim asks as they stride past Damian. The younger boy makes a face, the same one Danny made whenever Jazz brought over a boy, and they were being sickly sweet. He offers his boss a smile in return, watching those intense green eyes roll.

"I brought evidence of why Yetis' healthcare is far superior to ours." Danny pats his bag with a satisfied smirk. "Nothing beats Frostbite."

Tim melts. "That's amazing. I can't wait to hear all about it. Then we could go get dinner. How does Divine Palace sound?"

"The upscale restaurant? I would need to change before I'm allowed in there. It has a dress code, doesn't it?"

Tim snuggles closer. "You can borrow one of my suits."

"You know it's bad luck to wear someone else's clothes?" Danny tells him they have just arrived at the viewing room. The projector is set up, and Danny is waiting to plug in his laptop. A sizeable plush couch is pushed in front of the large empty wall, where Tim plans to curl up and watch Danny's presentation.

Meeting someone who adored all the educational information about Ghosts and their culture was lovely. Danny's parents were more interested in the aspects of biology and anatomy than the sociology and anthropology he studied.

After he finished his slide show—sadly without pictures as ghosts disrupted the camera—he would show Tim his notes, which the two could flip through together on the couch. Since his PowerPoint lacked images, Danny settled for some drawings and blurry photos he had stored in his binder while exploring the Zone.

He started it when he was fourteen, gradually growing over the years.

"Why's that?" Tim asks, throwing himself on the couch and crossing his legs underneath him. He places his elbow on the meat of his thigh and leans his head on his hand, his eyes never leaving Danny.

They seem to be shining, utterly captivated by the Halfa.

"It makes it easier for ghosts to overshadow you," Danny answers promptly, unzipping his bag to take out the materials from his bag. He had to look away from his friend because the way he was staring was making him a bit flustered.

"Overshadow?"

"It's another way of saying possession, but it's more politically correct." He responds, plugging in the wires to his laptop and watching the lock screen of his computer appear on the wall. "My sister's first boyfriend attempted to do that to her. Gave her some of his girlfriend's stuff so she could form around her and use Jazz as an anchor to stay on this plane."

"And you saved her before he could succeed," Tim sighs adoringly.

Danny puffs out his chest. "I did!"

Tim pressed a button on the side of his couch. At once, the thing expands, pushing the backrest down and expanding the bottom until it forms an even flat surface. Danny initially thought it was a recliner, but apparently, rich people had couches that could turn into beds in seconds.

He lays flat on his stomach, kicking his feet and leaning on both hands as he smiles like a loon at Danny. "That's amazing."

Danny bites his lip, trying to be modes,t but it's hard when he's being praised by someone like Tim Drake.

"Well, it's just what a good brother does. All I really had to do was use his bad luck against him, and really, Jazz sort of snapped out it when he tried to punch me," He babbles while scrambling to log into his account. He needs to do something before he bursts from all the giddy, mushy feeling in his chest. "It was nothing compared to when I had to win a pie-eating contest against Baker."

"Hmm?"

"Baker is a pasty theme ghost that is shockingly powerful. He locked me in a battle for five days before I convinced him to switch to a food theme contest." Danny laughs, shaking his head at the memories. "I was stuck in bed for a day with the biggest stomach ache, but I won that day. And victory was sweet."

Tim swoons.

Just as Danny is booting up the presentation, his superhearing catches the whispers of Tim's other siblings from the hallway. Damian had instructed him not to let anyone else in the household learn the truth of his contract because it would eventually get back to Alfred.

After meeting the man, he completely understands the paranoia.

"Who is that?" He's pretty sure that's the oldest Dick.

"Tim's new obsession." Answers Steph with a smirk in her words. "Apparently, he's some paranormal-obsessed conspiracy theorist."

"Why does he always go for the crazy ones?" Jason sighs dramatically.

"Have you seen Danny's biceps? Were it not for his health issues, I would have thought Tim found a secret off-duty hero."

Danny hastily focuses on his first slide, trying not to show his fear. Tim continues to watch him kick his feet and play with some of his hair. He has a habit of twirling his hair. Tim almost always does that whenever Danny sees him.