#when he usually made stovetop before

[miss-floral-thief]

Shame we don’t have A lid (most of our pots don’t lol), tho I usually don’t make rice on the stove (or at all tbh) so idk if that’s required

[avocado-writing]

hi hi! these prompts are so sweet - could I please send you "did you eat today?" + logan? I feel like he was on his own for so long and probably ate like shit (so might be soft when he’s asked if he’s taking care of himself like this?) 💖 thank you so much! Your request drabbles are all so stunning!

it's been a long while since logan was this looked after.

after everything that happened in the mansion he just didn't think he was a person worth receiving any kind of care, especially self-care. no. a man like him deserved to be punished for what he did, and a bottle to his lips every night was his self-flagelation. the years of alcohol put his body through hell, and food? well. it's been a long time since he ate something which didn't come in a greasy wrapper or needed to be nuked in the microwave.

if he were a normal man, no metal in his bones or healing in his genes, he'd be outright dead. as it stands when wade turned up, mentally and physically, he wasn't in great shape.

that is until he met you.

"did you eat today?" is a question he became accustomed to from your sweet little mouth. a concerned friend of wade's met on a lazy afternoon in the apartment, all smiles and soft edges, brow near-permanently creased in worry as you'd asked him when he'd last had a meal (and the answer was usually too long ago to be satisfactory). then without missing a beat you'd get to work feeding him. stealing eggs from wade and al's kitchen to whip him up an omelette, fixing him a sandwich if needs be, once you made a whole damn pie and sat there watching him devour slice after slice.

in fact, it wasn't long before you just started inviting him over for dinner, and then dinner became dinner dates, and then, well. that became him moving in.

your cooking is exceptional. that isn't just him being kind to the person he's sweet on, it's true. he doesn't know how you can put the same slices of bread together he does yet somehow make them taste like they've come from heaven but you do, day after day. just another little miracle from your never-ending supply of them. even now he's still not certain if he's deserving of your attention, your effort, your time, but you won't hear any pushback from him about it. these things are feely given to him, just like your heart is.

he knows what you really mean when you say "have you eaten today?" you mean, "I love you". you mean, "you're a person who's worth caring about."

he wraps his arms around your waist as you stand at the stovetop stirring a homemade stew. the smell drifts upwards and makes his mouth water, spiced beef and fine-diced vegetables never seeming so good. you laugh as he buries his face in your neck.

"you eaten, baby?" you ask.

he hasn't. but he'll get there.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Postcards

Summary: Tom Bennett is sweet on the Post Office girl, but only dares to approach it just as he's conscripted for war | Word Count: 7.2k~ (oops) | Warnings: ww2, mentions of death, smut, fingering

A/N: A very VERY Happy Birthday to @ewanmitchellcrumbs <3 I hope you enjoy this and have a lovely day! ❤ And thank you so much to @theoneeyedprince for skimming over this 😘

“Get ‘im a cuppa, would ya darlin’!”

Her grandfather’s low baritone seemed to rumble through the floorboards so much so it made her eardrums throb, and she shook her head as she descended the creaky staircase at the back of the store room, running a hand over the collar of her dress to keep it flat.

“Yes, Granda,” she sighed, filling the kettle and placing it on the lit stove. Gone were the days when she was young, afraid of the tiny flame that appeared when her grandfather struck a match to light the gas. He’d always laugh at her concerned expression, chuckling that no grandchild of his was going to be such a ‘scaredy-cat’.

He’d had her lighting matches on the stovetop since she was eleven years old. No exceptions. 

A harsh but fair upbringing, given that she was his only grandchild.

She brushed a wavy lock of hair from her face, her pumps clicking on the floorboards as she let the water boil and joined him at the front of the post office. She rolled her eyes when she saw him struggling with the sack of post, grunting and grumbling to himself as elderly men often do.

“Get off, granda, let me.”

“Cheeky beggar! Can do it on me own, ya pesky-”

“Granda.” 

He finally turned, perhaps recognising the same tone he’d heard in his wife and daughter in years gone, and knew not to argue. She saw that when her grandfather, turned while bent over and withered with his years, with a smattering of white on his chin and waved sparsely on the crown of his head, had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, the end almost chewed right through with the effort he’d used in trying to lift what he easily could have several years ago.

He raised an eyebrow, bringing the cigarette from his age-weathered lips and blowing the smoke out, “Go on then. Tea on?”

“Course, it is,” she sighed, bending to pull the sack of post from the floor and into the corner to be sorted later. “I’ll do that later, you go upstairs”.

“Bollocks, will I. I’m staying ‘ere.”

Her grandfather was stubborn, though it was something they accused each other of being regularly. A family trait, some would say.

The postman, clad in his dark uniform trudged through the front door, ringing the bell with it. His satchel was empty and his cheeks were pink like the wind had been at them.

“The usual route please, darlin’”.

She nodded. “Cuppa first?”

“Yes, ta, milk, one sugar-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she smirked, “same as every day.”

As the postman settled into the familiar chair, reserved for him if anyone asked, her grandfather gave a low grumble, shifting his weight with the slow deliberation of age. He looked over at his granddaughter, the same stubborn glint in his eye that she mirrored back at him.

"You're not still jawing, are you?" he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray like he had done a thousand times before.

The kettle whistled, and she moved with ease, pouring the steaming water over the tea bags, the rich aroma filling the small, worn kitchen. She added the milk and sugar to the postman's cup, stirring it with a practised hand.

"Here you go," she said, placing the cup in front of him. "Warm yourself up."

"Bless you, lass," the postman replied, wrapping his hands around the mug as if to soak in its warmth.

The grandfather watched the scene with a softened expression before he straightened, a hint of urgency in his voice cutting through the usual routine. "Put the sign out, will you, love?"

With a tired sigh, she set her teaspoon down and retrieved the sign her grandfather had already sorted that morning, today’s headline written in white chalk across the blackboard surface. She didn't usually pay it much attention, but as she held the frame in her hands, her eyes were drawn to it. One word stood out like a beacon:

‘Britain Declares War on Germany’

“It’s official now,” her grandfather mused, having clocked her shocked, mildly terrified expression, his voice carrying an air of aged wisdom. He had seen another war before this one after all, even then, he had been too old to actually fight in it.

Her breath caught for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. "Today?"

"Aye, today," he confirmed, as if it made any difference, a solemn nod accompanying his words. "The world’s about to change."

She stepped outside, the gravel crunching under her feet as she made her way to the front of the shop. With a steady hand, she hung the sign where it would be seen by all who passed by. She stepped back as if to make sure the words were true and not a trick of the eye, and couldn't help but feel the gravity of the situation settling in. The world was indeed about to change, and their quiet corner of it would not be spared.

As she stood there, contemplating the significance of the headline, she heard the familiar sound of a bicycle approaching. Douglas pulled up, half-dismounting with a hurried air.

“Y’alright, Douglas?” she greeted him, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Douglas’s eyes flicked to the sign, and he visibly flinched. A deep furrow appeared on his brow, and his jaw tightened, frustration evident in his tense posture.

“Not seen my boy, Tom, have ya?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Fortunately not. Why, is he in trouble?”

Douglas let out a frustrated sigh. “Is he. If you see him, send him back home.”

She nodded, then glanced back at the sign, understanding the unspoken pain in Douglas’s reaction. “I will, Douglas. Take care.”

Douglas gave a curt nod, his eyes lingering on the sign for a moment longer before he mounted his bike again. He gave her a brief, strained smile, the weight of his past experiences clear in his eyes, and pedalled away. She watched him go, feeling the heavy burden of the news. He and Tom were alike in many ways, stubborn mostly though, and set in their ways once their mind was made up. But Douglas was gentler since the first war had changed him, and Tom was never the same after his mother. Turning back to the house, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their small world, like so many others, was on the brink of something monumental. Something far beyond their understanding.

The week passed in a blur of routine tasks and quiet contemplation. She worked diligently, covering the post office as her grandfather went off to the social club, seeking the comfort of familiar faces and shared memories. The steady stream of customers brought a sense of normalcy, yet the weight of the headline hung over her like a shadow, and many others as well.

Each day felt heavier than the last, as the reality of the declaration of war settled in. Conversations with customers often turned to the uncertain future, and the usual gossip was replaced with talk of enlistment and preparations.

As the afternoon sun began to wane one gloomy day, the door to the post office swung open with the chime of the bell. She looked up from the counter, her heart skipping a beat as Tom Bennett walked in. His usual carefree expression was absent, replaced by a seriousness she’d rarely seen before now.

She smiled. “Three guesses who you're skulking away from.”

Tom approached the counter, a faint smirk rose at the corners of his mouth, and his serious depression faltered somewhat. “Box of matches, please.”

She rang him up, the familiar clink of the register grounding her amidst the day's uncertainties. Even from here, behind the counter, she caught the faint scent of cigarettes on his weathered coat, for some reason making her head feel airy. As she handed him the matches, she couldn't help but broach the topic. 

“Heard you signed up,” she said, her voice gentle but curious. “What made you do that?”

Tom’s face hardened slightly. She knew immediately why but dare not say. “Don't carry on, had enough of this off Dad.”

“Not Lois?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tom let out a short, humourless laugh. “Nah. She can’t wait to see me gone.”

“How will she cope?” she smiled, attempting to lighten the mood.

Tom shrugged, pocketing the matches. “She’s tougher than she looks. She’ll be alright, both of ‘em will.”

Granda trudged past the doorway leading to the back room, leaving a large heaved sigh with a cigarette between his weathered lips. Tom nodded up at him, “y’alright, Granda? Keeping steady?”

She couldn't help but smile as she glanced back. Nobody called him by his real name, only ever what she had always nicknamed him, from a time where she was unable to say ‘grandad’. At first it embarrassed her, but now to hear everyone else call him Granda, well, it was endearing.

Her grandfather simply glared with hooded eyes, blowing smoke between his lips and permeating the air with musk, “bugger off, ya bone idle twat-”

He was still muttering things as he walked off and she gave Tom a face that showed she was trying her hardest to remain stoic.

“Your own fault really. Should know better.”

Tom chuckled, “Yeah, I should.”

From the first day she stepped behind the counter, Tom had made it his mission to tease and charm her, testing the waters with playful remarks and lingering glances. He would lean in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, just to watch her cheeks flush a delicate pink. It was a game they played, a dance of words and looks that neither was quite brave enough to escalate.

She found herself looking forward to his visits, the highlight of her day amidst the routine tasks of sorting mail and ringing up customers. Tom seemed to delight in the effect he had on her, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in close. “You’re going to spoil me with all this attention,” he’d say, and she’d laugh, trying to hide how much she enjoyed their playful but enigmatic banter.

Now, as Tom stood before her, the weight of his decision to sign up for the war added a new layer to their unspoken bond. The cheeky glint in his eyes was tempered by a newfound seriousness, and she felt the fragile line between them tighten and shift.

As she handed him the change, their fingers brushed, and she felt a familiar warmth rise to her cheeks. “You know,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “you’re going to make a right mess of things if you keep winding everyone up.”

Tom leaned on the counter, his smirk widening. “Oh, you like it when I wind you up. Admit it.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for a post office clerk-ow!” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief, rubbing his shoulder in faux offence when she smacked him lightly. If she were honest with herself, it was just an excuse to touch him.

“One of these days, your cheek will get you into real trouble,” she warned, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Tom leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll be the one to give me a proper telling off.”

She rolled her eyes, busying herself with doing a recount of the till, mostly so that she could have something to do with her hands. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist?” he quipped, his grin widening.

“Impossible to deal with,” she corrected, though her cheeks flushed with a hint of colour.

Tom watched her for a moment, his smile softening, blue eyes flickering to the pile of post she still had to sort. “Got anything for me? I'll take it back on my way home.”

She hummed a laugh, shaking her head as she sorted through.. She always sorted the Bennett Household’s post separately, so she’d be prepared for another one of Tom’s spontaneous visits. “To face the wrath of Douglas?”

He scoffed, leaning back against the counter with a mock look of horror. “Don't make me laugh. I can handle my old man.”

“Brave words, Mr. Bennett,” she teased, handing him a small stack of letters. “But I’m not sure anyone can handle Douglas when he’s in a mood.”

Tom took the letters, their fingers brushing for a brief moment. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” he said with a wink. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

She smiled, feeling the familiar warmth spread through her. “I believe it. Just don’t go getting yourself into too much trouble, alright?”

Tom’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “No promises. Trouble seems to follow me wherever I go.”

As he turned to leave, he glanced back over his shoulder. “And don’t worry, I’ll come back before I ship out. Wouldn’t want to miss another chance to see you blushing for me.”

With that, he straightened and headed for the door, leaving her with a smile and a heart a little lighter despite the day’s heavy news. She watched him go, the weight of their unspoken connection lingering in the air. In her heart she knew she was afraid of truly letting him go, at the prospect of not seeing him walk through those doors every other day. Her heart felt like lead, deep in her chest, wondering if it was already too late, with war reaching their horizons, to admit how she really felt about the man who had just signed up to fight in it.

The days continued to pass in a blur of activity and mounting tension. The declaration of war had cast a long shadow over their small town, and everyone was feeling its effects. Life carried on, but the underlying anxiety was palpable.

A week later, Tom walked into the post office, a different kind of seriousness in his eyes. He held an official-looking envelope in his hand, and she knew immediately what it was.

“Got my papers,” he said, handing her a letter to post. “I’m shipping out in a few days.”

She felt a lump form in her throat but forced a smile. Don’t cry. “So soon?”

He nodded, looking around the familiar space of the post office.

“There’s a…leaving do at the Cross Keys, if you want to come and see me off with the others.”

And why on earth would she have said ‘no’. 

A small gathering was held at the local pub to send off the men who had conscripted to do their bit. It was a tradition of sorts, a way for the community to come together and show their support. Friends and family gathered, raising their glasses to wish him well and offer their prayers for his safe return. It was all bright faces, pink cheeked from ale, clinking glasses and all. And all she could do was watch from her seat. Watch him. As if she wanted to print the very image and soul of him into her mind on the off chance he might not return to her, or if he already had a sweetheart to write to, and wouldn't spare a second glance to her.

The pub was filled with laughter and conversation, but she could see the sadness in everyone’s eyes. As the evening wore on, people began to drift away, leaving behind a quieter, more intimate group.

Tom found her sitting at a corner table, nursing a drink. He slid into the seat next to her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Mind if I join the prettiest girl in the room?”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. Tom looked around, then back at her. He was antsy, she could feel his nervous energy a mile away. He was probably annoyed as well. Douglas hadn’t come to the pub that night, and there was always something in Tom that craved his approval. “Got anything you want to say to me before I go, or are you just going to miss me in silence?”

She looked down into her lap, tracing her thumb over the rim of her glass, taking a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t know what to say without sounding like a fool, Tom.”

“Then be a fool. I won’t mind.”

Her chest was all tight with anxiety when she finally had the courage to form the reply, looking up into his blue eyes, “this place just won’t be the same without you.”

She’d always seen Tom a certain way. Sure. Cock of the walk. Ever since his own mother died he’d almost put on this thick outer layer that was impenetrable. But here, sat with half a beer left in his glass, tapping his fingers against it nervously, his eyes gave way to something more vulnerable. They both know he was off to go and do something important, that he needed to feel valuable in some way, and this was his way of proving it. But his expression showed that he was also a young man, like so many others, who was afraid. 

“I won’t miss much about his place.”

Her heart sank a fraction, deep, forming a pit in her stomach. And it seemed Tom sensed it, as he twisted his body to face her, nudging her arm with his elbow to grab her attention again.

 “But I will miss you. Especially you.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. The pub was nearly empty now, the noise reduced to a low murmur, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable in her chair, fingers twisting the hem of her skirt in a gesture of uncertainty about herself. “Tom, I–”

His lips pressed to hers in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was a moment they had both imagined countless times, but reality was far sweeter and more poignant.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers and chuckled softly. “About time we stopped dancing around it, isn’t it?”

She could laugh. Cry even. 

Tom sensed her surprise and something that lingered deeper, but his bravado didn’t allow him to approach it, but it was enough that his thumb brushed a wayward hair from her face. “Had to get that in before I left. Didn’t want to regret missing my chance.”

She let out a relieved, breathy laugh. One that expelled all the tension from her body for a moment. Her eyes never quite left him, as if in wonder. And she was hit with the endless thought that she did not want this moment to end, she didn’t want him to leave. But knew she could never ask that of him.

“Promise me you’ll write,” she said instead.

A classically-Tom Bennett smirk rose to his face. He always did that when he saw the colour rise to her face. “I might.”

They both laughed lightly, with some uncertainty, when she swatted his shoulder. That attitude would get him in trouble, if not with her.

“How about I do you one better,” he started, “I’ll come back, and we’ll have our time.”

She knew then she could ask no more of him. She felt a mixture of hope and fear, knowing how much she was already relying on his return, how much she already craved it. But in response to his weighty promise, she nodded softly, her eyes feeling heavy with tears she did well to keep back.

It almost felt cruel, to have this moment the day before he would leave her for the seas. There had been no time…

Tom’s cheeky grin returned, albeit with a touch of tenderness. “Good. Now, let’s get you home before I change my mind and decide to stay here with you.”

She wished he would. 

It was only when she was at her doorstep, watching him walk away, the darkness gradually enveloping him, that she finally took a deep breath, clutching the memory of his kiss and the promise of his return close to her heart.

The days following Tom’s departure were filled with a bittersweet mixture of hope and anxiety. She busied herself at the post office, trying to keep her mind off the worry gnawing at her. The routine tasks that once felt mundane now served as a distraction from the ever-present uncertainty.

On the morning Tom was scheduled to ship out, she was on shift, sorting through the morning post with a heavy heart. She couldn’t bring herself to go to the docks to see him off, knowing it would be too much to bear. Instead, she stayed at the post office, her mind wandering to thoughts of him, imagining his cheeky grin and the promise in his eyes.

After a fortnight, she was giddy with joy when she was sorting the post and saw her name amongst the pile, she nearly gave herself a papercut in her fervent attempts to open the letter, wanting to see his words, in his hand, it would give her happiness beyond belief.

Little Miss Postie, You wouldn't believe the state of things here. It's a lot different from our quiet little town. The lads are a good bunch, though, mostly, and they’ve already learned to put up with my jokes. They’ve got no choice, really. It’s either that or Hitler and I wouldn’t like those odds. I miss seeing your face every day, the way you blush when I tease you. You remember that night at the pub? I bet you do. I wasn’t joking about regretting not kissing you sooner. Let’s just say I’ve had some pretty vivid dreams since then. Don’t worry, I’m keeping my head down and staying out of trouble. Mostly. But it’s hard not to think about you when I’m supposed to be focusing on training. The open sea allows a man to think a bit too much, and every time I see the stars at night, I think of you. And, well, there’s not much else to do out here except think… and maybe imagine a few things I shouldn’t put in a letter. Write me back soon. Tell me everything. And don’t leave out the parts that make you blush. Yours, Tom

She sat at the counter, Tom’s latest letter in hand, a smile tugging at her lips as she read his words again. The warmth of his cheeky tone and the sincerity of his affection made her heart flutter. She knew she had to reply, but she wanted to make it special.

Rising from her seat, she walked over to the display of postcards near the entrance of the post office. The assortment included scenic views, cheerful illustrations, and wartime propaganda. Her fingers brushed over each one until she found a postcard that seemed perfect—a World War II specific postcard featuring a charming drawing of a sailor in uniform, waving from a ship, with the words “Keep Smiling and Carry On” printed in bold letters.

She took the postcard back to the counter and carefully penned her reply, choosing her words with care and affection. When she finished, she read it over, her cheeks warming at the bolder parts. With a satisfied smile, she addressed the postcard and prepared to send it off.

Dear Tom, I’m glad to hear you’re getting along with the lads and keeping them entertained. The town isn’t the same without you, and I miss your cheeky grin and those comments that always get under my skin—in the best way, of course. I hope you continue to write to your father and Lois, they miss you greatly. I’ve been thinking about that night at the pub too. More often than I should admit. Sometimes I catch myself smiling like a fool. Granda thinks I’ve gone mad. He’s just a few pennies short of putting me away. Since you were so forward in your letter, I suppose I can be a little brave too. I’ve had a few dreams myself, some of them involving a certain navy man and that uniform you hate. I’m looking forward to seeing you out of it as much as in it. Stay safe, Tom. I can’t wait for your next letter. Yours, ‘Little Miss Postie’

Little Miss Postie, I knew there was a reason I liked you. I couldn’t stop smiling when I read your letter. And blushing? Don’t worry, I’ve been doing plenty of that myself. Don’t tell anyone though or I’ll tell everyone you’re lying. I can’t wait to get back and see if those dreams of yours are as good as mine. Maybe we’ll have to find out together. And as for that uniform, well, I’ll make sure to wear it just for you. But you might have to help me out of it later. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while. Training is tough, and they’re keeping us on our toes, but thoughts of you keep me going. The lads are starting to wonder why I’ve got this goofy grin on my face all the time. I’ve been telling them about you—well, only the parts that won’t make them too jealous. They all say hello, by the way. Take care of yourself, love. And keep those letters coming. They’re the best part of my day. Yours, Tom

Her reply was affectionate, written with that telltale blush to her cheeks that Tom would have made fun of her for. Every scratch of the pen on paper, telling him that him blushing at her letter would be their little secret, and that he shouldn’t give the lads too high of expectations of her, made her heart feel as light as air. And as she signed off the letter, urging him to come back to her, she would not let that little whisper of uncertainty grow at the back of her mind. And as she turned over the postcard, appreciating the watercolour design on the front, she thought of his face when, and how she imagined it would light up when he received it. Just as hers does.

She waited for a response. But none came.

She found herself anxious, restless. Had she said something wrong? Gone too far? Scared him off with her incessant affections and flirtations? Surely not, she thought. But the lack of any real response had tensions rising in her gut, and the seed of doubt had long been planted.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, she checked the post every morning with a mix of anticipation and dread. Each time the mail arrived, she sifted through the letters, hoping to find one from Tom. But there was nothing. No letter, no word. Her heart sank a little more with each passing day.

Her grandfather and the regular customers noticed the change in her. She became quieter, more introspective, holding onto the hope that Tom would keep his promise and return. The thought of his words, “I’ll be back, and we’ll have our time,” became her lifeline, the thing that kept her going through the long, uncertain months.

Sometimes, she'd allow herself a trip to the house Tom used to inhabit, remembering the times she'd pass by on her way to the post office and spot him leaning against the doorway, smoke blowing from between his curled lips, amused to see the way she was watching him. 

She'd hand Lois the post, come in for a cuppa, sometimes Douglas would say a quick hello as he was passing through the kitchen. But whenever she saw him, she was reminded very much of Tom, thousands of miles away from her, and the way his eyes crinkled like Douglas’ did when he smiled.

Every morning, she performed her duties with a determined smile, greeting the postman with a hopeful glance, on the off chance that some letter had accidentally ended up at Douglas’ home, only to be met with a sympathetic shake of the head. She would take a deep breath, steel herself, and continue with her day, refusing to let despair take hold. If she ever let it stick, it would swallow her whole.

It was funny how life had a way of testing people in their worst times.

Granda had always been stubborn. So much so that even when she told him she would put out the sign in a moment, he was too impatient. She only found him later, collapsed alongside the sign for that day's news. But no news seemed as important to her as that very minute, knelt beside her dying grandfather and shouting at passerbys for help.

If her little town was good for anything, it was community. Her grandfather left enough to cover the costs for the funeral, but all who remained put in as much as they could so that they could give the very beating heart of their slice of peace a good sendoff. Her grandfather would have hated it, everyone snivelling and crying over him. But it took the edge off her grief to see that he had touched the hearts of so many, despite his grumpy attitude.

At least, she thought, she wouldn't have to let go of the post office and go work in a factory. This small slice of peace was all she had left of her grandfather. And she counted her blessings that he had left her a good amount in his will, and what remained of his savings.

She only hoped that this brief didn't come in pairs. And she couldn't help but think of Tom now she was truly alone, running the post office by herself, her loneliness only exacerbated by the fact she only had herself to make a brew for in the morning now. She has the most vivid nightmares about the day someone would come and break the news that he wouldn't come back.

Then, one crisp morning, as she stood behind the counter, sorting the latest batch of letters, the door to the post office swung open with a familiar chime. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat as Tom Bennett stepped inside, dressed in his navy uniform, looking weary but very much alive.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The weight of all the months of worry and hope melted away as he crossed the room, a tired but genuine smile spreading across his face.

“I told you I’d come back,” he said softly, his voice carrying the same mix of cheekiness and sincerity that she had missed so dearly.

For a moment, she stood frozen, unable to believe her eyes. Then, in a rush of emotion, she ran around the counter and threw herself into his arms. As she hugged him tightly, the dam of her emotions broke and she began to sob uncontrollably. He smelled of cigarettes and the sea, a mix of salt and smoke that was uniquely him. The scent brought a rush of memories and emotions, grounding her in the reality of his presence. His uniform carried the faint tang of saltwater, a reminder of the long months he had spent away from her, battling the elements and the enemy.

Tom hugged her back, a bit confused by the intensity of her reaction. “Hey now, what’s all this? I’m back, aren’t I? In one piece and everything.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching him even tighter. “You look terrible in that uniform,” she said, her voice shaky but filled with affection.

Tom chuckled, a familiar warm feeling pooling in her gut, rubbing her back soothingly. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t join the navy for the fashion. Besides, I was hoping you’d be so happy to see me that you wouldn’t notice.”

She wiped her cheek, feeling like air was finally making its way into her lungs. “Y-You didn’t write me back. I thought I'd lost you too.”

“I’m sorry, love. I never meant to leave you in the dark. It was just complicated out there, I–”, Tom furrowed his brows, his head cocking down at her slightly. “Too? I—”

He only had to look around. It was never usually this quiet. And she saw the realisation dawn across his war-hardened face when he spotted the framed picture of Granda on the counter.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “When?”

“A few months ago,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Stroke. The tobacco must have caught up with him.”

Tom’s expression softened, and he pulled her into a tighter embrace. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered, resting his cheek on her head, “you're more a soldier, doing all this on your own.”

She held onto him, his presence like a balm for her aching heart, growing stronger every day around the pit that was grief. “I didn't feel very strong.”

Tom didn't reply. He hadn't felt very strong himself either. And she knew from the way his large hand rubbed her back to comfort her, that there was more to his easy-going facade than he wanted to let on. And he knew for her equally, that the months were tough on her own, and that she was still healing.

“Missed you so much,” she confessed, pulling away slightly to look up at his half-worried expression, “it felt like I was losing both of you at the same time.”

Tom sighed, a light, almost pretty sound from his lips, his gaze drifting down slightly to her lips, as if he were just remembering all the details he didn't want to admit he'd forgotten all those months at sea.

“Don't cry.” His thumb lingered, swiping away a tear from her under eye, before he lightened the atmosphere with his smile, “I'd prefer to see you blush again. Suits you better.”

She couldn't help a smile breaking across her face, and the warmth that crept up her neck made her feel like a schoolgirl.

Tom winked. “There it is.”

Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her, softly at first, as if testing the waters. Her hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his uniform as she kissed him back, the warmth of his lips against hers sending a shiver down her spine.

She pulled back slightly, a playful protest on her lips. “Tom, we’re still open…”

He gave her a devilish smile, turning around to flip the sign on the door to ‘Closed�� and locking it with a swift motion. “Not anymore, we’re not.”

He wasted no time, pulling her back into his arms, his lips growing more insistent and passionate. His hands roamed her back, finding the familiar curves and contours he had missed so much, but had no time to explore before he’d left. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.

She felt her own longing mirror his, her body responding eagerly to his touch. “Show me,” she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Tom’s grin turned wicked as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands exploring with newfound urgency. “I've been dreaming about this,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and tantalising. “Every fucking night.”

She laughed softly, feeling a delightful mix of anticipation and excitement. “Tom Bennett, you are impossible.”

He gave no reply, his fingers already working on the buttons of her blouse. His movements were deft, practised, as if he had imagined this moment a thousand times over. She gasped as his hands brushed her skin, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through her body. 

His lips found hers again, their kiss deepening as he pulled her blouse free, letting it fall to the floor. “Yeah, but I knew you’d come around,” he said with a cheeky grin, his hands sliding to her waist and pulling her closer.

Their kisses grew hungrier, their bodies pressing together with an urgency that had been building for months. She reached for the buttons on his uniform, her fingers trembling slightly in anticipation as she worked to free him from the fabric. He shrugged off his jacket and pulled her into his arms again, his hands caressing her bare skin and breasts through her brassiere, sending waves of heat through her.

She sighed, her head falling back as his lips trailed down her neck, his kisses leaving a path of fire in their wake. “Tom,” she breathed, her hands clutching at him, needing more.

“I know, love,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “I know.”

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the small sofa in the back of the post office where she sometimes took breaks. Gently, he laid her down, his eyes never leaving hers. Their movements became a dance of passion and longing, each touch, each kiss, a testament to the months they had been apart. Tom’s hands explored her with a reverence that made her feel cherished, loved.

As if by muscle memory from those dreams he would write about, his knee slid between her thighs as his hands roughly bunched up her skirt to her hips, two fingers tucking between them to tease her bud through her knickers.

“Tom,” she gasped, her body arching against his.

“Shh,” he soothed, his lips capturing hers once more. “I’ve got you.”

She was enraptured by the way he nipped at her lips, that she only realised he had pulled the gusset of her underwear aside when he gently, but insistently, pushed two fingers inside her, crooking upwards and finding that rough, sweet spot with unyielding precision.

He swallowed every sound she made, every now and then a grunt of approval slipping past his own lips as he stretched her open on his fingers, his pace teasing. Her fingernails left crescent moon shaped welts in his now bare shoulders, the muscles tensing beneath them.

Tom hummed against her lips, pleased with himself. “Not so shy now, are you?”

His teeth slid across her neck, no doubt marks left behind, but she couldn't even focus on that with the way he was insistent on teasing that wild spot inside her that made her body feel like white, fluttery flames.

“I've missed your reactions…especially this one.”

His thumb joined in his ministrations, applying gentle but firm pressure to her bundle of nerves in tandem with his fingers plunging in and out of her wet heat. And if her face hadn't been buried in his shoulder, she would have cried out, embarrassed at the sounds she and her body was making. Tom however, seemed to revel in it, his hand soaked with her arousal as she teetered on the edge.

The tightness in her gut spiralled as she clutched him tighter, her body aching pleasantly with the force of her peak rushing through her, all while Tom grinned and didn't falter, as if to watch her linger on that border of pain and pleasure.

Before she had even fully come down, his fingers were gone and she felt she was able to fully breathe again. Her flushed expression snapped open to him as he pulled her thighs towards him, on the sofa, and watched as he righted himself and slid his belt through the loops of his trousers, a sound that made her belly flutter.

He raised his eyebrows, pulling his trousers low enough to free himself and leaned over her again. “Missed me that much?”

She laughed, and hid her face, the dull ache still thrumming through her body ignited again as the head of is cock parted her folds and nudged her bud. “Tom-”

Warmth crept to her face again when his hand turned her face towards him again, his pupils near eclipsing the blue with want as he sheathed himself within her, holding her there to watch her expression as her walls stretched to accommodate him.

In any other scenario, she would want to slap that self-impressed look off his face, but not now, not when it felt this good.

His eyebrows barely furrowed, struggling to keep his composure. “Christ, you're so fucking tight—”

His words shot straight to her core, clenching around him and eyes slipping shut as he began a tortuous pace, like he hadn't gotten to this part in his dreams before. His arms wrapped around her like choking ivy, pushing her body to his with every needy thrust, his breath hot against her neck and the metal of his identification tag cold against her chest.

For a few brief moments, the world outside the post office ceased to exist. There were only the two of them, reconnecting in a way that was both familiar and new. Tom's cheeky comments and playful touches had yielded to blend seamlessly with his genuine affection, creating a moment that was perfect in all its imperfections.

She can feel his hips growing tired the closer he gets, and if she is being truthful, the cooling sensation of the buckle of his belt and the friction it gives her is only flinging her to the edge right alongside him. And when he breathes her name all shaky and low like that, she can't help herself, and she lets go again with a choked cry, the second sneaking up on her so quickly it feels like she never really recovered from the first.

With a stuttered groan, mirrored by his own hips, he crushes her in his arms and pushes forward as hard as he can, burying himself as deep as he's able as he comes hard nestled in her silky walls. She held him on top of her, his weight a comforting reminder that he was real, that he was here. Her fingers gently traced the contours of his back, feeling the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his breath.

Her heart was still racing, but not just from their shared passion. It was the sheer relief, the overwhelming sense of having him back in her arms after so long. Every night of worry, every day of longing, all melted away in this moment.

She buried her face in his hair, inhaling the familiar scent of him, mixed with the faint hint of the sea. Tears of relief welled up in her eyes, but this time they were tears of joy, of profound gratitude. And she wanted to say so much, but whenever she tried, her throat closed up, not wanting to interrupt this quiet, loving slice of peace in her arms. For the first time in months, she felt whole again.

When he finally pulls back, breathless and flushed, Tom rests his forehead against hers, his eyes filled with love and mischief, her his voice low and intimate. He means to say so much more. The depth of his feelings, the fears, and the nights he had spent longing for her, it all threatened to spill out, leaving him vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. She saw it, though, in the way his eyes darkened with emotion, the unspoken words lingering just beneath the surface.

“I think we might need to close early more often.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Yangyang x fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Unprotected vaginal sex. Creampie. CNC themes. "Forced" breeding. Breeding kink. Mentions of exhibitionism. YY curses in German. Pet names-- YY calls reader "his bunny" (that'll be a recurring theme if i ever write about him again) and reader calls him "little sheep".

| wc: 2.5k

| aurora's note: …I’m on a cnc kick. Sorry. Blame Twitter. I was about .0002 seconds away from adding mommy kink to this too, ok. Everyone say "thank you, aurora" for sparing you all lmao

You’ve been teasing Yangyang for so long that he’s beginning to wonder if he did something wrong— He dyed his hair pink for you since he knows how much you like it! And he did the laundry, all the dishes, he cleaned the house, made you dinner on your anniversary… Where did he go wrong? But it’s not that he upset you. Quite the opposite, actually, because ever since he dyed his hair for you, all you’ve wanted to do is fuck him 24/7. You wanted to keep him home from work all day, every day just for the sake of milking him dry… and you didn’t care if he’d sleep or not… You just- Fuck- You needed him so badly, but you knew that you couldn’t have what you wanted, so you withdrew slightly, trying your best to keep your hands to yourself because if you slipped up for even a moment then you’d have to go all in.

“Can you pass me the gochujang?” Yangyang asked as he stirred the pan on the stovetop. You agreed with a nod, opening the cupboard above your head to grab it from the first shelf, only… it wasn’t there like normal. No, it was higher up on the third shelf, a tad out of your reach. “You got it?”

“Yeah, one sec.” You stretched up high to grab the container, but your finger tips only grazed it, sending it shuffling an inch backwards. You huffed. “Who the Hell put it where it doesn’t belong?” Still, you tried your best, even putting a knee up on the counter to give you something to push up on to get more height.

“Don’t hurt yourself—“ Yangyang immediately abandoned the stove to step behind you, hands firmly grasping your hips to hold you steady while you finally got the gochujang and landed back on the floor safely.

You hesitated. Standing pressed against the counter, Yangyang’s hands on your hips, his breath hot on the back of your neck… You were slipping into dangerous territory which you’d tried so hard to avoid for so damn long. So you attempted to avoid the inevitable and shrug off his touch by accusing him of not putting the gochujang where it belonged! He apologized quietly. But his hands didn’t waver like you wanted, instead they tightened on your hips, and he pressed further against you. Inadvertently, your gaze flicked to the clock on the stove. 7PM. Dinner was supposed to be ready by 7:30PM so that he could go work out with Kun and Hendery at 8PM, then he would be home and in bed with you by 10PM— And you would pretend to be asleep like usual in order to avoid having him think he could finally fuck you.

“The food’s gonna burn,” you warned quietly.

Yangyang reached over to turn off the stove. The sizzling in the pan slowly died out, and the kitchen went quiet,

“You’re gonna be late to the gym.”

“I’ll cancel,” he whispered in your ear.

“You have work tomorrow.”

“I’ll call in sick.”

“You can’t fall behind in rehearsals before tour.”

“Not much anyone can do about it if I’m sick…”

And then Yangyang’s lips were pressed against your neck, leaving soft, gentle, teasing kisses, as if he were waiting for you to elbow him and kick him out of the apartment because all you’d done for weeks is look the other way when he showed any interest in fucking you. The erection pressed against your ass proved just how torturous those long weeks without your attention had been. How could you neglect him? He did so much for you. All he wanted was you…

Suddenly you spun around, letting Yangyang readjust his grasp onto the opposite hips now that you were facing him, and you immediately began kissing him passionately. He seemed a bit caught off guard. For the first few moments, he didn’t kiss you back, but once you tangled your fingers in his long pink hair, he was a goner, kissing you with so much passion that you tilted back into the counter, your head brushing the cupboard you’d fought with minutes prior. His hands wandered down until he found the soft spot right under your ass where he could grab you and lift you onto the counter, the perfect height for him to fuck you. 

It was completely unceremonial the way Yangyang pulled your pants down to your ankles and you simultaneously tore his shirt off his body all at the speed of light— Like the two of you were a pair of starved dogs who couldn’t hold back from feasting on their next meal. Your shirt went next, then his pants and underwear. Yangyang fiddled with your bra for a moment before unclasping it with a victorious moan vibrating against your nipple that he took into his mouth. The hold you hand on his pink hair tightened, urging him to move things along faster, having him stand up straight so that he could palm his erection with one hand while the other fell down to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit while two fingers teased your entrance to get you wet at quicker pace. You moaned, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

What happened to holding back? You promised yourself that you wouldn’t give in— Especially now when he was feeding your delusions about lying to his friends, coworkers, and bosses about his wellbeing just so he could stay home with you all day to fuck you dumb… or vice versa, if you ever had it your way. Honestly, you were distracted by the surprise that his hair was still so soft after all the dye and products he had to use to keep it such a bright pink color, and even then it was already fading, so he would have to decide sooner than later if he wanted to freshen it up or dye it a different color. Knowing hair dye, you knew that the pink wouldn’t come out or be covered up easily, so the unfortunate reality was that he would have to go a dark color… You hated that. The best thing in the entire world was whenever he would come home with some kind of new bright hair, like his famous pink or your favorite platinum or gray colors.

“Why’ve you been ignoring me?” he asked prior to a quiet grunt as he slid his fingers into your wet hole.

“Because—”

He hit your g-spot once he was inside and curling his fingers upwards.

“Because—”

And then he scissored his fingers open to stretch you wide enough for his waiting cock.

“Because I didn’t want to fuck you!”

He hesitated. “What?”

That wasn’t what you meant… It sounded wrong when you said it like that, but he was being a nuisance with his fingers, and it was the only way you could think to spew out your thoughts quickly before another pathetic moan could escape you.

“I mean… You’ve been so busy… Rehearsing, recording, working out, having meetings… I didn’t want to distract you…”

Slowly, his fingers thrusted into you again, but it was so slow that all it did was remind you that he was inside you rather than him trying to push you towards an orgasm.

“I didn’t think we’d have any time, Xiao Yang…”

He moaned at the nickname, his eyes rolling while his eyelids shut. “You’re so silly sometimes,” he whispered, curling his fingers again to make you arch your back and moan out his nickname for him. “I always have time for you.” He leaned in close to kiss your cheek. “Why do you think I keep dying my hair pink?”

That did it for the both of you— Within an instant, you were reaching out for his cock to stroke it while he stepped closer to the counter and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. He took one last moment to appreciate that warmth of your tight walls wrapped around his fingers, then he pulled them out, only to replace them with the tip of his cock both of you were working together to line up at your entrance.

“You just wanted me that badly, hmm? Had to keep yourself away?” He grinned smugly.

With a roll of your eyes, you wrapped your legs around his waist and put one of your hands on the small of his back while the other remained in his hair. Yangyang let you take the lead by having you contract your legs and push on his back so that he slowly started pressing into you, filling you up inch by inch until he was completely inside, his length twitching with excitement.

“Go on, then, pretty boy, show me how much you missed me,” you told him.

“Ah, sheise,” he moaned in response, rushing to fuck you as a rough pace that made it hard to keep your legs wrapped around him. You didn’t want him going anywhere though. It’d been so long, both of you were so pent up, there was no reality in which you would ever let the two of you go on without fucking each other for so long in the future.

Yangyang’s thighs slapped against the cupboards underneath the counter you sat on every time he thrusted all the way inside of you. In and out. Tip to base. The sound of the two of you panting and moaning echoed throughout the apartment, the constant pace of his thrusts surely letting the neighbors know what you were up to. What if you guys took too long… What if Kun and Hendery came by to see what was wrong, why Yangyang missed their scheduled gym time for the first time in years— Honestly, you wouldn’t have cared, you would’ve kept going even with his friends watching, but you wondered if Yangyang would’ve stopped due to his embarrassment of being caught with his pants down and ball deep in his girlfriend.

“Harder, Xiao Yang,” you pleaded with him.

He pressed one hand against the cupboard over your head to support himself while fucking you even faster and leaning in to kiss you as a distraction from the way he was getting noticeably closer to his orgasm even though it hadn’t been that long. At least he was cute after denying him for so long… His desperation left him incapable of speaking or keeping his eyes open, and there was no way for him to fight against the tight hold your legs had around his waist.

“Fuck— Mein hase—“ He toppled a bit. “Need you to cum first…” He trailed his hand from your waist to your clit to rub fast circles around the sensitive bud, hoping to race you towards your orgasm faster than his own was approaching. “So fucking pretty when you take my cock, hase.”

You tugged on his hair, and Yangyang faltered slightly with a blissful moan. “So fucking pretty when you fuck me, Xiao Yang.” You won that battle. He immediately submitted to your Dominance with just a rough pull on his pink hair. “Make me cum, baby. Just like that!” Your hips bucked against his, the counter creaking under you.

The faster his fingers worked, the slower his hips went, but that was okay because you were finally teetering on the edge, your orgasm creeping up on you sooner than you thought possible… Maybe it really was a bad idea to stay away from him for so long. Not only was he desperate for you, but you were obviously just as eager to feel him in you again, his thin but long cock pistoning inside of you while his fingers expertly played with your clit the way you taught him. He really was the best listener. Your best boy.

“Yangyang!” you moaned.

Suddenly, you were cumming before you could warn him. Your walls tightened violently around him, causing him to hiss while flicking your clit even faster to make sure you properly rode out your high.

“I’m cumming— Sheise—“ He jerked his hips back like he was trying to pull out of you and instead elect to cum on your stomach, but what he hadn’t prepared himself for was the hold your legs had on him tightening, forcing him to stay buried inside of you. “Wait, wait, baby, I’m cumming—“ He struggled again. You held true.

“Cum inside of me, pretty boy.”

His legs shook under him as Yangyang couldn’t fight off his orgasm any longer. With a defeated moan, he came inside of you, panting in your ear, a cry of disbelief overtaking him. The two of you hardly ever fucked without a condom, so the idea of taking birth control consistently was… Well, not really important to either of you. With your hips tilted up, and him being held inside of you with nowhere to go, the thought of getting you pregnant scared him slightly, but even worse was that it made his orgasm hit him even harder. He could be the one to knock you up, to claim you. Everyone’d know you were his. His damn friends who took up so much of his time, preventing him from getting home to you, they would know you were his.

“I’m cumming again—“

Now you were the surprised one. Never before had Yangyang cum twice in a single round of fucking… And he didn’t even take time to fuck you again, building up to the orgasm. No, it just hit him like a ton of bricks. He remained in you, riding out his second strong orgasm that took his breath away, his hand wrapping around the cupboard handle tightly. When he tried to pull out of you again, you didn’t let up as either of you expected— No, you stared at his red cheeks, his heavy lidded eyes, and his jaw hanging agape, admiring the way he looked so fucked-out all because of you.

“Please,” he begged quietly.

You shook your head. “Gotta make sure it sticks.”

He moaned again, biting his lip and looking down at where your bodies met, the creaminess of his two loads already seeping out around his cock, standing his pelvis and the inside of your thighs.

“You’re so pretty when you can’t think straight, baby…” You smiled at him, brushing his sweaty pink hair out of his face. He blushed in response. “You’ll have to call in sick… I don’t think you’ll be able to leave bed tonight or tomorrow.” He gulped at the thought. “Pretty boy.”

Yangyang leaned back in to kiss you one more time. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there was a knock at the door. “Liu Yangyang! Where the fuck are you?!” Shit, Kun sounded pissed…

Yangyang tried to pull out of you again, as if he hadn’t learned his lesson yet, you weren’t letting him go, not even for his friends. He accepted his fate willingly. With a quiet sigh, he said that he’d text them that he was sick… and that he couldn’t make it to work the following day… You smiled at him, content with that conclusion, patting his pink hair to show your appreciation.

[the-traveling-poet]

okay how abt levi coming home to see his twin babes and his wife passed out on the bed, still in their normal clothes. the kids are on top of reader and they're all just sleeping and levi walks in on them and he just stares at them with sm love that he's like 'what did i do to deserve them?' 😭♥

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ofc lovely! i’m so sorry for the amount of time it took me to get to this! i also hope you don’t mind i did this in drabble form, i felt it suiting. but if anything written doesn’t match your preferences, just let me know and i’ll re-write!

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza @humanitys-strongest-brat @raginginferno267 dm me to be added to the taglist for levi content :)

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For a moment, he wondered if he might have forgotten something. Perhaps plans had been made during his work day without his knowledge. Maybe he was just home early...no, it was half past nine in the evening. He was home late, if any time hadn't been accounted for.

Why then, couldn't he see nor hear a single sound? How could such a busy home be so quiet, as the sun had only just set? Usually his home was bustling with noise not unpleasant to his ears, especially come the warmer months of summer.

Setting his uniform jacket aside to hang on a peg, and removing the over-the-knee boots to be placed into a cubby designed to hold them off the ground, Levi huffed to himself as his eyes scanned his immediate surroundings.

Before him set the living room, cleaned and seemingly untouched; he'd have to thank his wife later for keeping the place up to his standards, especially with how hard she worked to provide for their children on top of it all.

Every time he saw the evidence of her diligence to keep their home clean on top of her other tasks, he swore he fell in love all the more.

She does so much...I need more time off duty to fully repay her.

Once his gear straps had been loosened, and his dress shirt half unbuttoned under his now untied cravat, he peered into the dining room and then the kitchen; still not spotting a single sign of life. Only a discarded cup sat at the dining room table, and a cleaned pan rested on the stovetop.

At least now he knew his family had been here for dinner.

Surely they couldn't have retired to bed yet? Those brats strive to become nocturnal.

He thought to himself as he meandered down a short hall leading to his boy's room they shared.

Inside, the room was dark and vacant under the faint glow of the moon shining down through their open window, blinds swaying gently in the soft breeze that filtered through and cooled the room.

Not a toy nor article of clothing was out of place. Hell, even their shoes had been stored in their respective sides of the closet they shared.

This isn't right...Though, perhaps Y/N had the time to remind them to tidy up.

By now, a slight furrow had settled onto Levi's brow. Grey eyes squinted through the darkness as he made a last ditch effort to search his own bedroom he shared with his wife for the whereabouts of his family.

It was too quiet. Too clean. Too dark...Just how long had he been in that meeting anyways? Long enough for the sun to begin it's decent across the horizon and miss his family's company? Surely they weren't out on such a night, despite its warmth and full moon. The neighbors were a popular spot to find his family when they weren't in the home, as the couple next door had children close in age to his own. Though, he doubted such an occurrence was the case tonight.

He hadn't seen a lantern lit outside their home on his way to his own door, after all.

But soon all worry and speculation was wiped from Levi's mind when the door to the master bedroom was creaked open.

Sprawled out across his bed lay his family, snuggled up and tangled into impressive positions under the duvet.

In the center of his bed lay his wife, an arm above her head and her lips parted in soft breath.

On either of her sides laid their twins, cuddled close to their mother amidst the mess of pillows and covers.

Normally Levi might have thought the boys were outgrowing their need or want to share a bed with their parents, but considering his growing concern earlier in trying to locate his wife and children, he couldn't help but smile down at the sight of them all so close and cosy.

He could never say no to his wife, much less his own children.

He stared down at them a moment in silent awe, a minute smile adorning his lips. Noting how soundly they seemed to sleep, he opted to slip into the shower for a quick wash up before ultimately joining them for the night. He was a bit of a night owl himself, but how could he resist joining such a warm scene?

Once he was dressed in loose pants and an old shirt, he crept over to the bed in the center of the room and attempted to slip onto the mattress without landing on any sprawled limbs.

And for the most part, he was successful.

Now laid back on one of his son's sides, he gentle scooped his arm around the boy’s back, easily reaching his wife's shoulder on the other side. With a deep sigh, and a small smile on his face, Levi closed his eyes, ready to finally relax for the first time today since the sun had risen.

"Daddy?"

The sudden whisper had Levi's eyes snapping open in an instant, to then peer down at the small voice that spoke it.

He came eye to sleepy eye with his son opposite his wife, who now peered over his mother's form to meet his father's curious gaze.

"Yeah, brat, s'just me." He murmured back, using his free arm to lean over and lightly ruffle his boy's hair.

"You got home late," the boy yawned, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry, I got held back. I wanted to be back for dinner," Levi whispered, lightly stroking his thumb over the boy's plump cheek. His son nuzzled into the touch with yet another yawn.

"We missed you...Mom made pasta."

"Mmh...Any left that I could grab for breakfast?" Levi murmured back, smiling despite himself.

"Nope...We ate it all up. It's aaall gone now," his boy confessed with a guilty, sleepy smile.

Humming, Levi merely shook his head.

"I'd rather have you three full and satisfied than having any leftovers for another meal. Get some sleep kid, I'll stay home tomorrow."

A happy hum followed Levi's admission, though the man doubted his son even understood what he had said from how sleep he appeared. And indeed only a handful of silent seconds passed before the boy was asleep against his rough palm.

Though Levi didn't mind; touch from his family was like a balm. And so he was able to sleep soundly this night, silently soothed but the presence and soft breathing of his loved ones tangled in the sheets all around him, warming his heart, mind and soul.

[haikyu-mp4]

Made me a fool

“Did you hear about Kita? He took in a farm hand and a GIRL at that.” – @nanami2ndbureau for my Gossip Event.

word count; 479 – f!reader, part 2 of this

Many of the others in the village wondered why Kita kept you around. It was no secret that even though you worked hard, you were not that good at it. When you made tracks for the rice, Kita usually had to go over them again. When you watered stuff, Kita had to add more soil or drain the pot. When he asked you if you wanted to make some lunch for the two of you instead, he had to run inside when there was a smoke signal from the kitchen window.

His back ached more than it did before if he’s honest.

But every time, you would give him a sheepish smile, raising your shoulders as if preparing for him to yell at you. And he would let out a long breath before once again showing or telling you how it’s supposed to be done.

Yes, he kept you around because you’re gorgeous. You made him a fool.

“Hey, it’s getting late,” Kita noted after checking his wristwatch. Then his eyes went to the horizon, where the sun had long since set. “How about you stay for dinner?”

You perked up, taking a second to mentally confirm that this was the first time he asked such a thing. “I could make dinner for you! After messing up so much in the greenhouse, it’s the least I could do.” Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your head and looked away.

Lucky, because Kita’s eyes widened significantly at the horrifying thought of you making him dinner. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to!”

And once again, he fell victim to you.

While you cooked, Kita hung around, nervously eyeing every move you made and hiding behind small talk. Kita realised then that you two talked a lot. He knows so much about you, and he only likes you more every day.

The thought distracted him for long enough that when he zoned back in, you were guiltily looking over your shoulder while smoke burst from the pan. “Kita…”

He sprung into action, reaching out to put more oil in the pan, letting it soak into where the food was burning. Then he shooed your hand away, taking the pan and working the food with one hand, while the other rested on the small of your back.

Your cheeks were burning, and you wished you could blame the cooking. “I always mess things up, I don’t even understand why you keep me around.”

As he moved the pan to the cool part of the stovetop, he sighed heavily. “Honestly, me neither.” Your shoulders sank and you looked up at him with glossy eyes. Kita looked at you, glancing at your pouty lips and back to your eyes. “I must really like you.”

Let’s just say you spent the whole night there and eventually stayed practically every night.

Teamwork makes the dreams work.

masterlist

[autocat5876]

i don't have a creative title for this. here's my fanfic based off the DELIGHTFUL surface au by my good friend @feligayzed. go check it out if you haven't it's literally everything to me

The first thing Sebastian noticed when he woke was the cold, empty space in bed next to him; the space where p.AI.nter usually joined him in bed was void, empty of metal and wires. The second thing he noticed was the aching pain in his joins, drawing a long, tired sigh from the man. 

Pushing the soft covers off his body, he groggily reached out to find his cane. These attacks of pain had been happening more often, resulting in Sebastian needing his aids more often than he liked to admit. Slowly but surely, he raised himself out of bed, leaning heavily on his cane for support.

Usually on days like this, p.AI.nter would’ve been by his side, holding him up and carefully leading him through their shared home. The memories of it being so patient during those first few weeks of being “human” again put a smile on his face. His companion had always been so eager to help with anything he needed- whether it be a walk down the hall or even just brightening his day, the bot was there. Hell, it had even decorated the cane in his hand to be less bland, covering it with stars and hearts in all different sizes and colours. 

Shaking his head to pull him back to reality, Sebastian began his walk out of the bedroom. Even with his aid, he still placed his free hand on the wall for extra support in an attempt to ease any other pain.

From the hallway, Sebastian heard sounds coming from the kitchen. The soft hiss of something cooking on the stove was almost like music to his ears- until music did hit his ears. 

A hum, high and robotic, rang out in the air as Sebastian made his way to the source of the sound- p.AI.nter, working in the kitchen to make breakfast for him. The sound stopped as soon as p.AI.nter caught sight of him, a blush quick to be air-brushed onto its expression.

“I didn’t realize you were awake so early,” It said quietly, looking down at the stove and the soon to be ready food- pancakes, Sebastian noted- rather than at him.

“The bed got cold without you.” He said simply, leaning against the closest countertop.

The blush on the bot’s screen only got worse, its voicebox glitching out for a moment. “Sorry… I just- wanted to try and treat you to something nice this morning. You’ve been in a lot of pain as of recently and I thought breakfast in bed would be nice!” It laughed as it turned off the stovetop, beginning to plate Sebastian’s breakfast. “But you’re up now, so I don’t think that’s really feasible.”

Sebastian only nodded, humming contently. “I could always go back if you wanted?” He teased, grinning.

“No!” p.AI.nter was quick to reply, whipping around to face the other. “You already made it all the way here, I’m not gonna-”

The bot was quickly silenced by soft hands reaching up to hold its monitor. Ever so gently, Sebastian rubbed a thumb along the sides of p.AI.nter’s head, careful to not scratch the metal with his dulled claws. The touch alone caused its fans to speed up.

“Paints, I was joking.” His voice was soft, the grin softening to a smile. “And, thank you for this. I know it’s been… a lot, having to deal with me these past few days.”

“You know I don’t think that.”

“Yeah, yeah. You tell me constantly. Just- let me appreciate you a little, alright?” Without even thinking, he leaned forwards to press a soft kiss to the screen in front of him.

It took a moment for the both of them to realize what had just happened, and before Sebastian could try to play it off, he was pulled into a soft hug from p.AI.nter, nearly drowning in its oversized sweater.

“I love you.” It said, tightening its hold slightly.

This time, it was Sebastian’s turn to blush. His face began to heat up as his fins tilted downwards, an embarrassing squeak slipping from his mouth. After what felt like an eternity to him, his arms wrapped around p.AI.nter’s body. He didn’t reply, too scared of what would fall from him if he did.

The two stood there in silence for a while, before Sebastian was suddenly scooped into p.AI.nter’s arms without warning. A yelp escaped him as he quickly scrambled to take hold of its shoulders, his cane clattering to the tiled floor below him.

“What are you doing?!”

p.AI.nter seemed unphased by Sebastian’s outburst, clutching him close as it began to walk. “Bringing you to take a seat! I’ll bring you what I made and you can just relax.”

Sebastian pouted, grumbling softly to himself. Despite his actions, he snuggled closer to the bot. Even when set down on the couch, he didn’t let go of the fabric of p.AI.nter’s sweater.

“Sebby, I need to go get your breakfast.” It tried to pull away, to no avail. The other only gripped onto it stronger.

“Should’ve thought of that beforehand.” Was the only reply Sebastian gave.

With a huff of its fans, p.AI.nter flopped down next to Sebastian. Immediately, he found his way into sitting on the robot’s lap, pressing close to its warm plating. He set his head down on its shoulder, relaxing fully in its hold.

“...I love you too.”

[heechwe]

lips of an angel | 𝖑𝖍𝖘

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x reader ୨୧ word count: 0.9k ୨୧ genre: angst ୨୧ tags: exes!au, established (previous) relationship ୨୧ synopsis: He's not supposed to be calling you in the middle of the night after months of silence. And yet you fall back into the same feelings like nothing has changed.

You wake up in the middle of the night to the vibrations of your phone. It was tucked closely underneath your pillow due to you falling asleep earlier than expected, usually putting it on the nightstand to charge.

A face you had not seen in so long lights up your phone’s screen in the darkness of your bedroom.

The impromptu photo you took of Heeseung that ultimately became his contact photo breaks a fragment of your heart. His shy smile, the hair falling in his face, the corner of his thumb that was caught in the frame from him trying to stop you from capturing the moment. That day is like muscle memory, but you have to remember the past is the past for a reason.

Your present is none the wiser, Jake sleeping peacefully next to you and not being stirred by you waking. Unaware your ex-boyfriend's calling in the middle of the night and you're leaving your bedroom to answer him.

When you press the button to answer the call, it’s chaotic. You hear muffled voices in the background and some kind of upbeat pop music. Heeseung has to be in a bar drinking or doing things that have no relation to you. But your breath catches nonetheless when he slurs out your name. “Hey,” Heeseung whispers.

“Hi.”

The line goes silent, the only sounds being Heeseung’s deep breaths and the pulse of a beat.

“Hee, why are you calling me?” you ask, whispering in your dimly-lit kitchen. The light above the stovetop is the only thing guiding your steps as you pace across the tile floor.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he croaks out. He curses and steps farther away from the noise of the occupants around him.

How did he still have this power over you? You shouldn’t feel your heart sink in this way, so deeply you brace one hand on the counter to avoid losing your balance. 

Eight months ago was the last time you had seen him. You parted mutually, but both of you possessed less than ecstatic feelings about the end of your relationship. Trying to move on was a success, so it seemed. You have Jake now, and from the words of friends' friends, Heeseung had been dating around and doing just fine doing so.

And yet hearing his voice and the way he still needed you in some capacity makes your knees weak and a part of you anxious for the end of the call.

You never wanted to say goodbye to him in the first place. Loving each other was never the problem. The complications of life were what ultimately made you go in different directions.

Was it so bad to think about what could have been, and how much he meant to you still? Even now? Even if you spent most of your time denying it so the feelings never resurfaced at all?

“Sorry I’m calling so late,” Heeseung cuts through your thoughts, his words taking on more than their face value.

“We can’t do this, Heeseung,” you respond, your voice thick yet hollow from the emotions that can’t be expressed without tearing you apart inside.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s 2 AM and—” You stop short before mentioning Jake. You didn’t want to twist the knife in this moment when Heeseung was clearly vulnerable.

You didn’t have to, though. “He’s with you, isn’t he?” Heeseung asks. Mutual friends must have discussed your current relationship status, but hearing it from his own mouth—the fact he knows—turns the knife back on you, cutting without mercy.

You shake your head, something close to a chuckle leaving your lips. “That’s none of your business and you know it.”

“You’re right.” He laughs too, and somehow you’re sharing the same sad, ironic humor regarding the situation.

“You know, I dreamt of you last night. That’s why I’m out, I just— I didn’t know how else to forget about it besides going out with the guys. Yet, it’s just fucking impossible to get you out of my head.” Heeseung’s voice cracks toward the end. The tears well up to the point one rolls down your cheek, but you don’t wipe it away.

Why did this have to be as complicated as when you were together? If you loved someone, wasn’t everything else that made up your life supposed to be background noise? Why couldn’t it have worked out the first time, then this situation you were in wouldn’t exist?

“Wanna tell me what it was about?” It’s cruel to ask, but you can’t help it.

“You tried baking those mixed cookie-brownie things again.”

“Brookies.”

Heeseung laughs. “Yeah, those. But you couldn’t find the ingredients for it. And you thought the salt was sugar, and of course the end result was shit, just like the first time.”

His breath catches, and something on the other end of the line rustles. His voice is muffled when he says, “Christ, I shouldn’t be doing this.”

You sigh and hold the phone tighter to your ear. “Neither of us should.”

Yet there it was. That gravitational pull you  both had done a good job keeping at bay, avoiding each other all this time. Denial seemed to be the best and only route here, but time proved the truth would come out one way or another.

You would always find a way back to each other, even if it was at the worst possible moments, and it seemed like it was too late.

But was it too late if it never truly ended to begin with?

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 16

word count: 5.0k

i've hidden some small things within my story that make up aspen and harry, have you guys noticed any? 🤭 where should i turn the story to from here? more dates, more intimacy, group activities, etc! let me know & thanks for all the support!

The next day, Aspen had cleared her schedule, wanting to use the free time for something meaningful. Her evening had been a whirlwind of laughter and warmth, spent with Isobel in her bed as they dissected every detail of Aspen's first official date with Harry. Takeout containers littered the nightstand, barely touched, because they were too engrossed in giggling over Harry's sweet words and Aspen's recounting of every look, every laugh, and every moment of connection.

Today felt different. There was a quiet kind of excitement humming in Aspen's chest, the kind that made her toes curl against the floor and her heart flutter every time she thought of surprising Harry. She'd been up early, not out of necessity but because the thought of doing something thoughtful for him gave her a sense of purpose she didn't often feel in her quieter routines.

Her plan was simple but heartfelt: bring Harry lunch. She'd realized, after observing how carefree and spontaneous he seemed, that he probably didn't bother with packing himself meals. He struck her as the kind of guy who either grabbed something quick or skipped lunch entirely. The thought tugged at her, making her want to do something about it.

Aspen had spent her morning channeling her rare bursts of culinary motivation into creating something she hoped Harry would love. The kitchen had filled with the warm, savory aroma of steak bites sizzling in butter, the citrusy tang of cilantro lime red rice, and the comforting, creamy scent of mac and cheese bubbling on the stovetop. Cooking wasn't something Aspen did often, but when she did, she poured herself into it entirely. Each stir, each sprinkle of seasoning, carried her thoughts to Harry—how he'd smile when he opened the container, the way he might tease her for going through so much effort, and how he'd hopefully enjoy every bite.

When the meal was ready, she carefully packed it into a container, sticking a pink sticky note on the lid. She spent longer than she'd admit debating what to write, eventually settling on a simple but warm message:

For my favorite person. I hope you love it! ❤️ —Aspen

The little heart at the end made her blush as she stuck the note firmly in place. It was bold for her, but she wanted to leave him with a tiny piece of her feelings—nothing overwhelming, just enough to make him smile.

Aspen slid the container into her light pink lunch bag, patterned with scattered white stars, and tucked in a bottle of water and a Redbull, knowing he might need the energy boost. Napkins and a fork were added as the final touches. Checking her phone, she noted the time—she had about thirty minutes before his usual break, just enough to pull everything together.

She dashed upstairs, her heart fluttering with a mix of nerves and excitement. After rummaging through her clothes, she decided on the grey flared leggings from the other night, paired with her trusty Converse. For her top, she grabbed the shirt she'd "borrowed" from Harry—it still smelled faintly of him, which made her cheeks flush as she pulled it on and tied it in the back to better fit her frame.

Aspen worked quickly, brushing her hair and pulling it into a simple half-up, half-down style. She swiped on a light coat of mascara, just enough to make her eyes pop, and dabbed tinted lip balm on her lips, giving them a subtle sheen. Glancing at her reflection, she smoothed the shirt over her waist, trying to quiet the small voice in her head wondering if she looked okay. It wasn't about being perfect—Harry had already seen her in her coziest clothes—but she wanted to feel confident and put-together.

With her tote bag and lunch bag slung over her shoulder, she took a deep breath, her heart thudding softly in her chest. The thought of surprising Harry, of seeing the look on his face when she handed him the meal she'd made with him in mind, made her smile. It was a small gesture, but one she hoped would let him know how much he meant to her.

As she locked the door behind her and stepped into the bright spring afternoon, the warmth of the sun seemed to echo the warmth in her heart. Today, she wasn't just thinking about Harry—she was showing him how much she cared, in her own quiet, thoughtful way.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The bell above the tattoo shop's door jingled softly as Aspen stepped inside, her lunch bag clutched tightly in one hand. She paused just inside the threshold, taking in the space that felt both familiar and slightly intimidating. The red-accented walls were lined with framed artwork and sketches, a testament to the creativity that buzzed within these walls. Aspen adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder, her heart racing—not from fear, but from anticipation.

Zayn was the first to notice her. He was behind the counter, flipping through the appointment book, and his face lit up when he saw her. "Well, if it isn't little miss Aspen," he greeted warmly, leaning casually on the counter. "What brings you here today?"

Aspen offered him a shy smile, shifting on her feet. "Hi, Zayn. I, um... I'm here to see Harry."

Zayn's brows lifted, his grin widening with mischief. "Here to see Harry, huh?" His tone was teasing, but not unkind. He gestured toward the back of the shop with his chin. "He's in his office. Go on back."

Before Aspen could move, another voice chimed in—Niall, sitting in the nearby waiting area, sketchpad in hand. "Ooh, Harry's got visitors now? And bringing lunch, too? Look at him, living the dream." His Irish lilt made the teasing even more playful, and Aspen could feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Shut up, you two," came Harry's familiar voice from somewhere behind them. He appeared a moment later, his flannel sleeves rolled up, ink staining the tips of his fingers. His green eyes softened the moment they landed on Aspen. "Hey, love," he said, the corner of his mouth curving into a lopsided grin. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

Aspen smiled nervously, lifting the lunch bag a little as if to explain herself. "I thought I'd surprise you... I figured you might not have had lunch."

Harry's gaze flickered to the bag, then back to her, and something warm and unspoken passed between them. "Y'know me too well," he said softly. Then, turning to Zayn and Niall, he added, "Don't you two have something better to do than nose into my business?"

"Not a chance," Niall quipped, earning a laugh from Zayn. "You're the entertainment, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't bother responding. Instead, he placed a hand lightly on Aspen's lower back, guiding her toward the hallway that led to his office. "C'mon, let's get out of here before they make it worse."

Aspen's skin tingled where his hand rested, and she couldn't help but glance back over her shoulder. Zayn gave her a wink, and Niall mimed a slow clap, his grin wide. They exchanged a look between each other, surprised at Harry's sudden softness. 

She turned forward quickly, her cheeks flushing even more. "They seem... nice," she murmured. Harry chuckled, his voice low and warm. "Nice isn't the word I'd use, but they mean well."

When they reached his office, Harry pushed the door open and gestured for Aspen to step inside first. The space was small but cozy, with sketches pinned to the walls and a desk covered in art supplies and paperwork. A worn leather couch sat against one wall, and the scent of ink and faint traces of cologne lingered in the air.

"Make yourself at home," Harry said, shutting the door behind them. He leaned back against it for a moment, watching as Aspen set her bag down on the desk. There was something about the way she moved, so quietly yet purposefully, that tugged at his chest. And he would be lying if he said his eyes didn't wander lower, lingering on how her gray leggings hugged the beautiful curve of her ass. He looked back up with a small smirk when she turned back to face him.

Aspen glanced around, taking in the little details of his space. It felt so him—creative, a little messy, but warm. She carefully unzipped the lunch bag, pulling out the container and setting it in front of him. "I, um, made this for you," she said softly. "I hope it's okay... I wasn't sure what you'd like, but..."

Harry stepped closer, reaching out to lift the container's lid. The smell of the warm food hit him immediately, and his eyes widened slightly. "You made all this?" he asked, looking at her in surprise.

Aspen nodded, twisting her hands together nervously. "I thought... maybe you don't bring lunch with you? And I just wanted to, you know... do something nice for you."

Harry stared at the meal for a moment, then back at her, his expression unreadable. Finally, he smiled—a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "You didn't have to do this," he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. "But... thank you, Aspen. Really."

Her heart fluttered at the way he said her name, the warmth in his tone making her feel like she'd done something right. "I just... I wanted to," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "You do so much for me, Harry. I wanted to do something for you, too."

Harry stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. "You're somethin' else, y'know that?" he said, his voice low. His touch was gentle, grounding, and Aspen felt her nerves settle slightly under his gaze.

They stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket. For Harry, the thoughtfulness of her gesture was almost overwhelming. He wasn't used to people doing things for him, not like this—not with so much care. And for Aspen, the way he looked at her, like she was the most important person in the world, made her chest feel light and full all at once.

Harry reached down, his hand sliding gently along Aspen's arm as he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed or demanding, just a quiet moment that seemed to still the world around them. Aspen's breath caught, her eyes fluttering shut as her heart raced in her chest. When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on her face, his green eyes warm and filled with something she couldn't quite name but felt deeply all the same.

"C'mon," Harry murmured, his voice low and coaxing. He slid his hand into hers, guiding her toward the worn leather couch against the wall. Aspen followed, feeling lightheaded but blissfully so, her fingers curling around his instinctively.

As they settled onto the couch, Harry unwrapped the container she'd brought him, his brows raising slightly as he took in the meal. The sight of it—the steak bites perfectly cooked, the fluffy cilantro lime red rice, and the creamy mac and cheese—made something tight in his chest ease. She'd done this for him, thought of him enough to go out of her way. He wasn't used to that kind of care, and it both surprised and humbled him.

He took the first bite, letting out a low hum of approval. "Bloody hell, Asp," he said, looking at her with wide eyes. "This is incredible. You've been holding out on me, haven't you?"

Aspen's cheeks flushed immediately, her fingers twisting in the hem of her borrowed shirt. She ducked her head, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. "I don't cook much," she admitted, her voice soft. "It's kind of rare that I actually feel like doing it."

"Well, I'm lucky you felt like it today," Harry said, taking another bite and savoring it. He glanced at her, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You're spoiling me, baby."

The word "baby" made Aspen's stomach flip, and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too widely. She couldn't help the warmth spreading through her chest at his words, though, or the way her heart seemed to skip every time he looked at her like that.

As Harry continued to eat, he threw in compliments here and there—about how perfectly seasoned the steak was, how the rice was better than anything he'd had from a restaurant. Each word made Aspen shrink a little further into herself, not because she didn't like the praise, but because it made her feel so seen. She wasn't used to this, to being appreciated so openly, and the intensity of it made her shy.

But as she watched him eat, a different thought began to creep into her mind, one that made her pulse quicken. She wanted to kiss him again. Badly. The way his lips curved into a soft smile as he spoke, the way he licked a stray bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth—it all drew her in, leaving her with a quiet ache she didn't know how to voice. The realization made her blush even more, and she turned her gaze toward the floor, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

Harry, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in her demeanor. He set the container down for a moment, leaning back against the couch as he looked at her. "Y'alright?" he asked, his voice gentle but curious.

Aspen nodded quickly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her leggings. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, though her voice was quieter than usual. She glanced at him, and the intensity of his gaze made her heart stutter. "Just... thinking."

"Thinkin' about what?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly. He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to push her too much. He could tell she was feeling shy, and the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

Aspen hesitated, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she looked down again, her blush deepening.

Harry couldn't help the soft chuckle that escaped him. "Asp," he said, reaching out to take her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and the touch sent a shiver up her spine. "Y'don't have to say anything if you're not ready. But if i's about me, I'm all ears."

Aspen bit her lip, her gaze flickering up to meet his for a moment before dropping again. "I was just... thinking about... how much I liked—" She broke off, her face flaming as she stumbled over her words. "Never mind."

Harry's grin widened slightly, though his tone remained soft when he spoke. "How much you liked what? The food? Or somethin' else?"

She groaned softly, hiding her face in her hands. "Harry," she said, her voice muffled but filled with exasperation. "You're making it worse."

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing quietly. But he didn't let go of her hand, and the warmth of his touch was enough to steady her nerves. He was patient, waiting for her to speak when she was ready, and that alone made her feel a little braver.

"I was thinking about kissing you," Aspen finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She peeked at him through her fingers, her heart hammering in her chest. "And now I'm all embarrassed, so... yeah."

Harry stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening in a way he hadn't expected. She was so endearingly honest, even when it made her nervous, and he found himself falling for her all over again. "You're somethin' else, Asp," he murmured, his voice soft. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her temple. "Y'don't have to be embarrassed, love. I've been thinkin' the same thing."

Aspen's blush deepened, but this time, there was a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. "You have?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Course I have," Harry said, his tone gentle but firm. "Who wouldn't?"

Aspen fidgeted with her hands as she tucked her legs beneath her on the couch, her blush still lingering as she glanced shyly at Harry. The words danced on the edge of her tongue, but she hesitated, biting her lip as if she wasn't sure if she should say them. He waited, patient as ever, his eyes soft as they studied her face. Finally, she took a deep breath and let the words tumble out.

"Maybe it's the whole... 'I have a boyfriend' thing," Aspen murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "but I've been thinking about you more than usual. Like... a lot more." She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, her cheeks burning with the admission.

The corners of Harry's mouth curved into a slow, warm smile. His chest tightened at her honesty, and a wave of gratitude washed over him. He knew how much it took for Aspen to open up like this—how much courage it required for her to let him in on the thoughts she usually kept to herself. That bravery was one of the things he admired most about her.

"Y'know," he said softly, setting the half-eaten container of food aside, "you're so brave, Asp. For tellin' me all this. For lettin' me in." His voice was warm, laced with sincerity, as he leaned forward to take her hands in his. His thumbs traced gentle circles over her knuckles, his touch grounding her in the moment.

Aspen looked down at their hands, her lips curving into a shy smile. "It's easier with you," she admitted. "You make it... safe. Like I can say anything, and it'll be okay."

Harry's heart swelled at her words, and a quiet sense of wonder settled over him. He'd never expected to find someone like Aspen—someone who made him want to be better, softer, more present. He gave her hands a gentle tug, guiding her toward him.

"C'mere," he said, his voice low and coaxing. Aspen hesitated for only a moment before letting him pull her onto his lap. Her hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance, and his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her securely.

She let out a small, breathy laugh, her cheeks flushing again as she settled against him. "This is so unfair," she mumbled, though her tone was more playful than anything.

"Unfair?" Harry repeated, raising a brow as he gave her a teasing grin. "How's this unfair?"

"You're too... you," she said, gesturing vaguely as if that explained everything.

Harry chuckled, his hands resting gently on her waist as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. His lips lingered there for a moment, and he couldn't help but take in the details of her outfit—the way the leggings hugged her legs, the way his shirt looked impossibly better on her than it ever had on him.

"You're wearin' my shirt," he teased, his voice a low murmur against her skin. His grin widened as he leaned back slightly to get a better look at her. "Didn't think you'd steal from me so soon, love."

Aspen's eyes widened, and she quickly tugged at the hem of the shirt, her blush deepening. "I didn't steal it!" she protested, though her voice was soft and her smile betrayed her. "You didn't mention needing it back, and it was... just there, and it's comfortable, so..."

"So y'stole it," Harry finished for her, his tone light and teasing.

She buried her face in her hands, letting out a soft groan. "You're impossible," she mumbled, though the warmth in her voice gave her away.

Harry laughed, his hand sliding up to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Impossible, huh? Guess that makes two of us," he said, his grin softening as he looked at her. His thumb brushed over her cheek, and he leaned in just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

For a moment, the world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of their connection. Aspen felt her heart steady, the nervous flutter settling into something warm and sure. Harry's presence had a way of grounding her, of making her feel like she could let go of the walls she'd spent so long building.

"You're somethin' else, Asp," Harry murmured, his voice filled with quiet reverence. "Y'know that?" Aspen bit her lip, her gaze meeting his. "I think you might've mentioned it," she said softly, her smile shy but genuine. Harry chuckled, leaning in to press a tender kiss to her temple. "Well, I'll keep sayin' it," he promised, his arms tightening around her. "Every chance I get."

Aspen’s fingers moved delicately along Harry’s shirt collar, their slow, rhythmic movements betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. She felt the soft material between her fingers, grounding herself in the moment, but all resolve slipped away when Harry pulled her closer. A small, involuntary sound escaped her lips, blending into a soft giggle as his lips curved into a smirk against hers.

Harry’s hands rested on her hips, his grip firm but reassuring. He tilted his head up to meet her lips, their familiar softness igniting a warmth in his chest. It had been too long—much too long—since he’d kissed her like this, and the moment felt like a long-awaited reunion. The cool press of his lip ring against her skin sent a shiver through her, its gentle nudges against her teeth a comforting reminder of their closeness.

For Harry, kissing Aspen always felt different—more intimate, more profound. Her lips molded perfectly against his, and the subtle gasps she made only fueled his desire to savor every second. It wasn’t just the act itself; it was the way she melted into him, the way her quiet trust was woven into every kiss.

Aspen slid her arms around his neck, her thumbs brushing lightly against the soft curls at the nape of his neck. The sensation made him hum low in his throat, the sound reverberating between them. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, and it made Harry feel cared for in a way he couldn’t quite describe.

Their kisses were slow and tender at first, each one a quiet confession of how much they’d missed this. But when Aspen tilted her head slightly, granting him better access, Harry’s lips parted. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip, and Aspen’s breath hitched. Without hesitation, she parted her lips, letting the kiss deepen.

The moment their tongues met, Aspen’s body instinctively leaned closer, her movements shy yet intentional. The languid motion of their tongues moving together sent a warmth coursing through her, spreading from her chest to her fingertips. Her thumbs brushed gently over the curls at the base of his neck, grounding her in the moment.

For Harry, it was as if time slowed. Every touch, every small sound Aspen made, was etched into his mind. His fingers tightened slightly on her hips as he sat up straighter, his head tilting to match the new depth of their kiss. The soft noise Aspen made from her nose—a quiet exhale laced with pleasure—sent a jolt through him. He didn’t want to stop, but the need to taste more of her overwhelmed him.

Reluctantly, Harry pulled away from her lips, but he didn’t stray far. His lips pressed gently to her jawline, tracing a line of tender kisses down to the side of her neck. Aspen tilted her head instinctively, granting him better access, her cheeks flushed with a deep blush that spread all the way to her neck. The warmth of his mouth against her skin made her dizzy in the best way, and she let her eyes flutter shut as she leaned into his touch.

Though this was only the second time Harry had kissed her like this, the intensity of it all overwhelmed Aspen in the best way. It wasn’t just the physicality of it—it was the way Harry’s touch felt deliberate, the way he seemed to cherish every inch of her. She buried her manicured nails gently into the curls at the back of his neck, her fingers tightening slightly as she let herself sink further into the moment.

Harry’s hands shifted, his fingers splaying out over her hips as they began to wander. He tested the waters carefully, his hands slowly moving toward the curve of her ass.

“This okay?” His voice was low, thick with want but tempered with care, his words murmured between kisses as his lips lingered against her skin.

Aspen’s breath caught at his question, but she nodded, her voice soft yet assured. “Yes,” she whispered, her tone trembling slightly but filled with trust. When Harry kissed that one particular spot on her neck, a breathy whine escaped her lips. “Yes, it’s okay,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry hummed in approval, the sound vibrating against her skin as he kissed her again, focusing on the spot that had made her gasp. His fingers moved lower, trailing over the curve of her ass before gripping gently, pulling her closer against him. She fit against him so perfectly, it almost made his head spin.

“You’re perfect,” Harry whispered against her skin, his lips brushing against her collarbone. He pressed wet, lingering kisses there, his teeth grazing her lightly, just enough to make her shiver. Aspen’s hands tightened in his curls, her soft breaths quickening.

The next sound she made was different, not quite a whine but unmistakably a moan. It was quiet, shy, as if she hadn’t meant for it to slip out, but it made Harry pause for a moment.

She had moaned for him, on his lap, in his office, because of what he was doing. 

Harry groaned softly against her neck, his lips trailing wet kisses along her skin. The nip he gave to her sweet spot drew a quiet gasp from Aspen, followed immediately by a soothing kiss that made her body relax under his touch. She felt warm, wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, and completely consumed by the moment—until a sharp sound jolted her out of it.

Her eyes shot open, her ears now hyper-focused on the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching the door. Panic shot through her like lightning, and her hands quickly slid down from Harry’s neck to his shoulders. She gave him a gentle but urgent push, scrambling off his lap and onto the seat beside him.

Harry blinked in confusion, leaning back against the cool leather as he tried to process what had just happened. His brows furrowed deeply, his green eyes clouded with concern. Had he done something wrong? The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Asp?” His voice was low, tinged with worry as he studied her flushed face. “What happened? Did I—.”

Before he could finish his thought, Aspen shook her head frantically, her soft voice rushing out a series of breathless “no’s.” She was practically vibrating with nerves, her fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt when the door swung open.

There, standing with smug grins and bags of crisps in hand, were Zayn and Niall.

“We just came to check on how your homemade lunch was,” Zayn began, his tone dripping with mock innocence. His gaze flitted between Harry and Aspen, taking in their disheveled state. His grin widened. “But it’s very clear you need some alone time.”

Niall snickered beside him, not bothering to hide his amusement. Harry ran a hand through his wild curls, his face twisting into a scowl.

The picture Zayn painted wasn’t far off. Harry’s hair was a mess, his lips red and slick from their kisses, and Aspen’s face was a shade of crimson that matched the heat she felt radiating from her cheeks. They probably looked the part of being “busy,” and that only added to Harry’s irritation.

“Don’t you dipshits know how to knock?” Harry growled, his voice sharp as his glare bore into them. “Get the hell out.”

Zayn and Niall didn’t seem phased, their laughter echoing as they backed out of the room. They continued to crack jokes through the muffled door, their chatter trailing off as their footsteps faded.

The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the sound of Harry letting out a long, exasperated sigh. He leaned back and turned his head to Aspen, his expression softening the moment he saw her face. She was burning red with embarrassment, her wide brown eyes fixed on the closed door as if willing it to lock on its own.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound low and warm as he reached out to brush her hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her cheek, his touch gentle and grounding.

“That was somethin’, huh?” he said, his lips curving into a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry 'bout that, love. Was what I was doing okay? Didn’t scare you off, did I?”

Aspen let out a shaky breath, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she tried to gather her thoughts. Slowly, her eyes peeled away from the door to meet Harry’s.

Her gaze took in everything about him—his unruly curls, his lips still glistening and swollen from their kisses, the cool glint of his lip ring catching the light. He looked confident and composed, as if the interruption hadn’t rattled him at all. It was unfair, really, how effortlessly handsome he was, and the realization only made her blush deepen.

“No, no…” Aspen’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she tried to convey her feelings. “It was good. I liked it. Really… liked it, H.”

Her words were sincere, and though her tone was laced with shyness, it carried a weight of gratitude. She appreciated how Harry always checked in with her, how he never took her silence or hesitation as anything but a reason to ensure her comfort.

Harry’s heart swelled at her honesty. He knew how much courage it took for her to open up, and every time she did, it felt like a gift. His lips curved into a small, lopsided grin as he hummed in approval.

“Mmm.” His fingers wrapped gently around her ankle, tugging her closer with ease. “Yeah?”

Before Aspen could process what was happening, Harry guided her down onto the seat, coaxing her to recline fully. She felt her heartbeat thunder in her chest, each pulse so loud she swore it echoed in her ears.

Her breath hitched when Harry nudged her thighs apart with his knee, settling himself between them. The closeness made her head spin, her fingers instinctively reaching up to tangle themselves in his curls at the nape of his neck once again.

Harry’s grin widened, playful and teasing as his gaze roamed over her. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and tinged with amusement as he kissed her shoulder and worked his way slowly up the side of her neck.

“’Cause I wasn’t done.”

[andbreakmynose]

every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own

part 1

your first date with the hot single dad you may or may not work for...

(the car! alex, single dad! alex)

WARNINGS: SMUT, feelings, age gap (reader is mid 20s), p-in-v (protected), oral (f receiving)

WORD COUNT: 5k

You hadn’t been this giddy over a man since Aiden Grant called you pretty on an Instagram post when you were 12, although you also hadn’t been with anyone like Alex fucking Turner.

Barely anyone knew you even worked for Alex; he didn’t want them to for his own privacy. You understood that, he was a private person and especially so when it came to his child. You didn’t have a problem with telling acquaintances that you worked for a rich man and not saying anything else, they usually understood. It’s never been a problem until now.

When you came home after that fateful night all giggly and smiling your roommate had more than a few questions. The alcohol in your system got you dangerously close to spilling but you came up with some lie last minute, you couldn’t remember what you said in that drunken haze but apparently it was enough to get Claire off your case.

You wanted to tell her though, you wanted to tell the world and you couldn’t. It was eating you alive that you couldn’t tell anyone that you had kissed - no, fucked - Alex Turner. Not in a bragging way, in the way that you wanted someone to tell you to calm down and slap some sense into you. You wanted to be able to ask someone for advice, to know that you weren’t making some grave mistake. It was times like these you wished that you took that advertisement in the mail for three months of free therapy.

Alex, in a sort of way, became that person. He was too busy to really talk the rest of the week, but his gentle gestures like kissing you before you left gave you enough reassurance to make it through the night without freaking out.

He felt the same way, there was this underlying fear in his bones that he really had done something terrible. It’s not that he thought he was taking advantage of you, no you’re a grown adult. But you’re the grown adult he has employed, he can’t lose that. If he worked for a company this would’ve been an HR violation. That was a bad feeling.

Waiting for Friday would be unbearable if you weren’t so damn busy. Toddlers don’t have time to accommodate for a complicated love life and it seemed that neither did Alex’s schedule. He wanted you to know that he cared and he was genuinely looking forward to having an actual date with you, but it seemed that every time he tried to start a conversation his daughter would start crying or his phone would start ringing.

It isn't until Wednesday that he actually gets you alone. He has enough time to slip home and grab lunch, and it's late enough that Ayla is already sound asleep for her nap. When he sees you sitting alone on the sofa, his heart swells. There's already something domestic about the scene: you, in his house, comfortable on his furniture. No signs of work, just relaxation—and he likes that.

“Hey. Had a few minutes to sneak out.” He sneaks into the living room, startling you slightly before you smile warmly. You can’t be upset with him, not even for a second—his presence is just too warm.

“There’s some leftover mac and cheese on the stovetop if you want it. Not exactly fine dining, but it was pretty good.” Your words make him laugh, and that feels good. He has a nice laugh, and you feel a sense of pride knowing you made it happen.

“I’ll pack some and take it back to the studio. Don’t really have much time,” he says, glancing down at his watch—probably more expensive than your car. “But I did want to talk. Y’know, about Friday.”

You nod and sit up properly, straightening your back so you don’t look lazy. He notices but doesn’t comment; it’s cute to him that you’re still trying to impress him when he already finds you so special.

“So I’ve been thinking... and talking...” He leans against the doorway, smiling. “I made a reservation at that restaurant for 6:30, and I’ve already talked to Matt. He’s more than happy to watch Ayla for the night. You know how excited she’ll be to see them.” He beams at his own productivity, clearly pleased with how he’s going above and beyond for you.

The mention of Matt confuses you. You’ve been nervous about even mentioning the situation to your sister, and yet Alex already told Matt? It makes sense, you guess—Matt understands celebrity life and knows how to keep secrets. He seems decent enough from the few times you’ve met him, but the idea still makes you feel something strange.

“Matt knows about... us?” you ask, hesitating slightly. You don’t want to seem upset—you’re not upset—but you do want clarification.

Alex picks up on your nerves instantly. It’s obvious in the way your fingers dig into your knee and your teeth worry at your lip. He shakes his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry about that. I told him an old friend is coming to town for drinks and that you weren’t available anyway.”

Damn Alex and his talent for easing your nerves. You exhale the deepest breath you’ve taken in a while. It’s all good. “Ah, okay. I was just wondering if you were telling the whole world about us,” you joke, knowing he isn’t. You needed to say something to lighten the mood, more for yourself than for him.

He laughs at your joke, and he doesn’t even need to say no—you already know he wouldn’t want to jinx things yet. He’s about to speak again when his watch buzzes, prompting a disappointed sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, he’d rather spend all day staring into your wide, pretty eyes.

“I’m excited for tomorrow, yeah? We’ll drop her off at 6:00 and then head out. I really am excited. You don’t even know.” He sounds slightly nervous, and it’s cute to see that you can make him feel that way. You don’t know what you did to deserve it.

"I’m excited too.” Your voice is warm, matching the smile on your face. You’re not entirely sure what to say, but you know just how excited you are to have something with him. His expression softens as he lifts himself from the doorframe.

“I’ll see you later, darling. Take care.” And with that, he’s gone, but you can’t blame him—you know how busy he always is. The word "darling" bounces around in your head, a reminder that this isn’t a dream. He really does like you.

Thursday night is spent stressing over what to wear. You know Alex will show up in his usual suit—one of his quirks that drives you wild—but you don’t want to overdo it. It’s just dinner, but your work clothes won’t cut it. You certainly can’t show up in sweats to a date with Alex Turner.

You settle on a dress you haven’t worn since your ex-classmates wedding to her now ex-husband. It’s not the nicest, but it will do. You have a sneaking suspicion that Alex would like you in a trash bag anyway. You roll the dress up and tuck it in your bag—no way you’re wearing it to work where it’d end up covered in marker and spit.

Friday’s anxiety convinces you that you’re doing your job horribly. You must have forgotten something or messed up because your mind is all Alex, Alex, Alex, like he’s a parasite who’s crawled into your brain.

Knowing he’ll be home around 5:30, you start getting ready at exactly 5:15. You make sure to look presentable, curling your hair and applying a layer of concealer. He’s seen you at your worst—covered in child vomit—but you still want him to see you at your best.

Right on time, he unlocks the front door, and Ayla immediately bounds over to him. He laughs, picking her up and setting her on his hip before his eyes sweep over you. You look good—you always look good—but this time, it’s something else.

He clears his throat, giving a small smile. “You look that good to me?” You don’t want to blush, but you’re sure your face is bright red. Of course, you dressed up for him.

“Nah. I dressed up to get spit on,” you joke, stepping forward and ruffling Ayla’s hair just like Alex did. He smiles at the closeness, free from the stresses of the day and surrounded by the people he cares about the most. It’s a good feeling.

He chuckles at your words, raising his eyebrows and making a quizzical face at his daughter as if she’s hiding something. She just babbles, reaching out to pull his sunglasses off and throw them on the floor. Alex shakes his head, pretending to care. You laugh, silently thanking her for letting you see Alex’s eyes again. He really does have the nicest eyes.

“Those were my nice pair, you rascal.” You’ve never heard him upset and this is no exception, even when he’s pretending to be upset he still has so much love in his voice. “Y’know I was gonna surprise ya by taking you to Uncle Matt’s for the night but it seems like you’re being a little punk tonight.” The girl immediately cries out and shakes her head, protesting just the thought of not going to Matt’s.

“Aw alright, you’re too darn cute to deny. Plus I have to do things anyways tonight.” This makes Ayla clap excitedly and make small noises, Alex giving her a smile before looking up with a wink. You secretly knew that the plans he had tonight consisted of you, and you wink right back at him. “You pack her night bag?” He asks you, it was the one thing he asked in the morning so of course you did it. You were always 10 steps ahead and he loved that.

“Mhm!” You nod and gesture to the pony-printed bag behind you. It was a gift you had gotten her for Valentine’s day earlier this year. Alex nods and walks over, daughter still in hand, to grab the bag and swing it over his shoulder. He’s signaling that it’s time to go.

You follow after him silently into his black sports car, taking Ayla from him to help buckle her into her carseat. You hop in the passenger's side and he sets the radio to the kid’s channel. Alex looks back at his daughter with a wide grin, even if he doesn’t particularly tolerate these songs he knows that it makes her happy. He starts to sing along to some song about waffles, god it’s awful but somehow his crooning makes it sound like a 1950s love song. You smile at the scene while Alex pulls out of the driveway.

That’s how the whole drive goes, it’s only about 15 minutes but all 15 of them are spent with Alex singing his heart out just to please his kid. “Is this on the new album?” You remark with a teasing grin at one song about silly snakes, Alex just laughs and reaches out to gently swat your arm.

That moment confirmed to you that your relationship with Alex had changed, not a single other person you worked with would have touched you. And Alex wasn’t just touching you sexually but he was touching you in a warm, familial way. For a second it felt just like you were old lovers and your kid, not what you really were.

It’s an easy handoff to Matt, Ayla is excited to see everyone and all you really have to do is hand off the night bag, Alex trusts them enough that he doesn’t even consider worrying for the night. When he’s sure the door is shut he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the car. You’ve come to love his hands; they were gentle and warm, yet also calloused from years of experience. They were the most Alex Turner hands you could possibly think of.

He starts the car again, making sure to shift the stereo to his personal mix of 2000s garage rock and 1960s french jazz. It was such an eclectic combination but it told you everything you needed to know about him, you felt warm as he hummed along to the words you didn’t really understand.

The restaurant was about a 30 minute drive, it was mostly silent besides the few times Alex pointed out things in the city. He showed you which venues he had played and which stores he had shopped in, he made sure to recommend the sweaters at some luxury store that you couldn’t pronounce the name of. When you told him you loved his sweaters he made a mental note to get one for you for the holidays, or to lend you one of his own.

Like he said, the restaurant is formal but cozy. It reminds you of something from Lady and the Tramp, or maybe Ayla had just made you watch that movie on repeat in the past week. He hands the keys off to the valet worker and grabs at your hand again, leading you inside.

“Turner, party of 2,” he says to the hostess with a smooth voice, looking over at you to remind you that you’re his party, his date. The hostess grabs two menus and leads you to a secluded booth in the corner. There’s a candle and roses on the table, which you didn’t notice at any others. Maybe he had done that special just for you.

He orders the two of you a glass of wine and a basket of bread, pointing out his favorite items on the menu. You decide on some fancy seafood pasta, Alex mumbling that it was a good choice.

This is your first time ever alone with Alex for a prolonged period, you’re not quite sure what to expect. He starts the conversation off easily, asking about your day and telling you about his. The endless flow of drinks and food (everytime you ask to order something he says yes - reassuring you that he couldn't care less about the price) makes it all really easy. There’s just chemistry between you and Alex.

He tells you about touring and you tell him about your childhood dog, he tells you what it’s like to be famous and you tell him about your experience in college. There’s such a difference in lifestyles but it doesn’t seem to matter at this moment, he’s completely enthralled by your life. It almost feels like you’re sharing similar experiences, he understands everything you say and is able to respond in such a damn charming way.

The food is unreasonably good, like maybe in the top five you’ve ever had. The flavors are rich and you wonder for a second how you’ll go back to fast food and microwaved dinners after this. At some point Alex decides he wants a bite from your plate so he puts his fork in it, there’s an awkward clash of arms that has you both giggling.

“You want some of mine? It’s only fair,” he asks you, a small amount of pasta sauce stuck under his bottom lip. You want to reach out and fix it but you’re too preoccupied with his words. You give a nod and he picks up his fork, grabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips. You were totally fine with getting your own bite but he had different plans, and the scene made you feel more like you were in Lady and the Tramp.

His food was also too damn good and you let out a satisfied groan, him grinning and reaching out to clean your lip. You figure since he did it you can do it too, so you take your thumb and gently wipe down his lip. It’s a quiet sort of encounter but it’s full of so much tension and unspoken words, god why was pasta sauce turning you on?

He finally removes his hand from your face and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to his side. You can tell at that moment that you’ve crossed a bridge and probably won’t be able to keep your hands off each other anymore, it’s good that there isn’t that much food left.

He keeps his arm tight against you as you eat, like he’s afraid you’ll run on him. The food doesn’t take too long to finish, at least on your behalf. It’s so good that you can’t stop filling your mouth. And when you’re done and Alex has a bit left it’s a treat that you get to watch him eat for a second, his mouth alternates between telling stories and chewing, his perfect lips always moving.

The waiter asks if you want dessert but you two were both too full, and Alex gives you a look that says he has dessert prepared for later. It’s a silent promise that reminds you of what happened last time we were together and has your heart beating faster in anticipation.

He pays the bill (you don’t even bother to look at how many figures are on there) and then takes you back to his car. His hand never leaves your back, sometimes drifting down to the curves of your ass. The valet man hands him his keys back, he tips heavily, and you’re heading back to his place. Nervous anticipation fills both of your throats.

“That was maybe the best food I’ve ever had.” You tell him as you take a seat in his car, buckling your seatbelt and smiling at him.

He nods and hums, following your actions and expression, “Glad you think so. I’m pretty fond of it myself.” He starts the car and his music begins to play again, you had heard this song before. Maybe because of him. “I really like that dress on you sweetheart, so damn gorgeous.” He breaks the silence after a minute, voice husky and smirk on his face. He did mean the sexual connotations behind his words but he also just really liked the dress, you were a gorgeous girl and seeing you dolled up for him was lovely.

“Aw thanks.” You reply, feeling your face heat up a bit. You still weren’t quite used to his compliments, he shouldn’t be saying you looked gorgeous when he looked like a damn god. He drives in silence for a second, taking occasional glances over at you with that smirk on his face.

“I have a confession to make...” he gives you a devilish grin, a small laugh trying not to escape him, “I get really touchy feely when I’m a bit drunk. But emphasis on the touchy part.” And then he laughs, he really can’t hold it in and neither can you. He has you laughing while simultaneously attempting to not pay attention to the burn between your thighs.

He smiles back at you, he loves your laugh, and then turns the stereo up a bit. He wants to get you back home and fast, this week of waiting for you has just driven him crazy. You’re able to get comfortable and let the music distract your busy mind, your eyes stay peeled to the window so you don’t notice how his hand is flexing against the steering wheel.

He leads you to the kitchen when you get home, the same place this all began. He opens the wine cabinet and starts to look, but you interrupt, “I shouldn’t drink anymore, I don’t want to be hungover at work tomorrow.” He nods and lets out a small sigh, that’s right. You were his daughter’s damn babysitter, not a girl he brought home from the bar. He has to repeat this thought as your cleavage is right in his face. “Yeah, that’s fine...”

Another second of silence fills the room, you know what he’s thinking about but is too shy to say. It’s a bit endearing how he doesn’t want to come across as too forward. “Alex... if you want to fuck me you can just say it. I can see you staring down my tits.”

He’s halfway through a drink of wine when you say this and he ends up coughing it up, he didn’t expect you to say anything. Good, maybe he wasn’t the only one being so sexually desperate here. “Right... well I think I’d like that.” He regrets saying that instantly, it sounds so stupid. He wants to fuck you with ever fiber of his being and he’s saying he “thinks” he’d like that. God he feels like an idiot.

He was still shy, and to be honest so were you. It had been a while and the first times with anyone were always scary. But you still nodded at his words and tilted your head towards his bedroom, if there was anytime nerves would be the lowest it would be now when you were both a bit tipsy.

Alex swallows and takes the lead, grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom. You had been there before to grab things for the kid before but this felt different, you weren’t there for your job. You were in his room and you were about to have sex with him.

Before you can finish looking around he grabs you by the waist and captures your lips in a searing kiss, too much pent up desire to wait for any longer. You’re caught off guard but still end up moaning into the kiss, Alex can only think about how he wants to hear more of those moans. Something must’ve taken hold of him because he gets the confidence to push you towards the bed, starting to work at the zipper with his long fingers.

He gets the zipper all the way down and you can barely register it before your dress is on the floor, leaving you in your underwear set. It wasn’t really the nicest but it still had Alex’s breath hitching. “Fucking gorgeous body. You know I’d return the favor from last time but I think if I’m not inside you soon I might perish and die.”Always one for the dramatics.

You give a small giggle at his words, reaching your hand out to gently palm his prominent bulge through his trousers, he hisses at just the littlest bit of contact. There’s a tangle of limbs as you try to get his clothes off and he tries to get your lingerie off, it’s awkward and messy and you almost feel like a high schooler again. Everything about Alex makes you feel like a high schooler again.

After you’re both completely undressed he joins you on the bed, pushing you back and settling on his knees. He starts to gently part your legs to look at your soaked cunt, running his middle and pointer fingers through the folds to collect your wetness. “Your cunt is pretty too, you know that? I think I’ve changed my mind, I need to taste you.”

Before you can even respond (which you probably wouldn’t have been able to respond with words anyways) his lips are attached to your sex. You let out a loud whine and attach your hand into his hair, pushing him deeper. He brings his mouth up slightly higher and his nose budges at your clit, that perfect fucking nose. It’s only been a minute and he already has you shaking and letting out endless streams of whines. He’s reveling in your taste, he thinks he could survive purely on the taste of your juices.

He develops a rhythm of licking at you, sucking at your clit, and peppering kisses along the sensitive folds. It’s intoxicating and you’re sure the words you’re saying don’t make sense, the only ones you can recognize coming out of your mouth are “Alex” and “Fuck.” He’s obsessed with your cunt but at the same time he’s hard in a way that’s making him uncomfortable, so he pulls his lips away much to your whining protest.

“Shh.. shh... sorry sweetheart. I just need to fuck you now,” he says in a voice smoother than butter. As he shifts to having his hips in between your legs your eyes meet the throbbing member in front of you. The head is red and you can see the pulsing. Yeah, it makes sense he needed to fuck you. He takes his time to line his head up with your folds, he needs that first thrust to be perfect as silly as it sounded.

After he decides on his placement he places his hands on your shoulders and starts to push himself in. It’s a stretch for you but in the best way, you hadn’t been filled by a cock in so long and now the most beautiful one was opening you up. Your tight caverns had Alex matching your groans, leaning down so he can kiss you again.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all mine.” He says in between kisses, starting to move his hips at a pace that has you both satisfied and begging for more. You’re his, you’re completely his. If there was any question about it before. You didn’t care that he was technically your employer anymore, at this second he was your lover and maybe the best lover you had ever had.

“Yes Alex, I’m yours. All yours,” you moan out, every thrust causing new goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Now fuck me harder, please.” You add on, causing him to laugh.

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he says before picking up the pace. He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, still littering your neck with kisses. If that wasn’t enough he starts to pinch and roll your nipples in his fingers, all the sensations making your eyes roll back. You knew your orgasm was soon, and Alex knew it too. You both wanted this too much to hold on for much longer.

Your moans start to become one constant stream of noises and his grunts start to become more guttural, the coil in your lower stomach was starting to build up and you just needed to push towards that release a bit more. He took note of this and brought his thumb from your nipple to your clit, circling it quickly like if he didn’t make you cum, he’d be executed. His own release was nearing and he could feel himself start to twitch inside of you.

“Can I cum fuck - inside?” He groans out, always the gentleman. He’s really damn turned on by the idea of cumming inside before but he’s seen what that can do before and doesn’t exactly want to deal with that again. You nod your head, you’re glad he asked but you’ve been on birth control since you were 15 for period cramps.

“On the pill!” You scream out. And it’s so embarrassing but that’s the last thing you’re able to say before the coil inside of you snaps and you’re cumming all over his cock, your walls squeezing him deliciously. He’s decided that making you cum is his new favorite thing in the world, the noises you make and the way your body is reacting drives him to his own release. With a final thrust and groan he’s leaning forward against you and emptying inside of you.

He cums a lot; you knew that from sucking him off, but now it was inside of you. And even when he pulled out, despite missing how he felt, you still felt pretty full. You were full of his remains; he likes that just as much as you. He spends a second to smile at your spent cunt leaking him before he snaps out of it.

"I'll, uh, I’ll get a towel, yeah?” He says, still catching his breath, before walking off to grab what he said. You miss him for the two minutes he’s gone, and when he returns, you feel like he’s just gotten back from war. He gently cleans your sex off and then puts the glass of water aside for you on the nightstand.

Collapsing onto the bed next to you, he pulls you into his side, placing a kiss on your temple. “That was perfect; I hope you let me do it again.” Of course you’d let him do it again; you’d let him fuck you right now if you weren’t kind of tired.

“You can fuck me whenever we both have the time; that’s my promise to you. And maybe we’ll go to that restaurant again? It was good!” He chuckles and nods, playfully ruffling your hair and placing another kiss on your head.

“I’ll take you wherever you want; you're mine now, and I mean it.” He pulls you against your side, and you know the truth to his words—you were entangled with him, whatever the implications were. You were his. And now you were about to sleep in his bed.

He wakes up before you; he knows he has to go pick up the kid from Matt's, and it’d be odd if you went too. He slips on a shirt and jeans for the day, more casual than he was used to, and lets his eyes roam over your sleeping form. Your nakedness was a reminder of everything you did that night, but your eyes closed, and the smile on your face was a reminder of the deeper meaning to it all. He couldn’t wait to explore that more.

He thought about you the entire drive to Matt's—not just how you felt under him but how you made him happy. He could’ve been embarrassed by how whipped he was this quick, but it was a long time coming. His mind drifts back to how pretty you were last New Year's when he had you take Ayla to the “family” party.

When he gets to Matt's, Ayla is beyond excited to see him, running up and pulling his leg into a hug. He hugs her back for a second and then gestures for her to walk to the car; he’s about to follow, but Matt stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you were holding hands with your babysitter last night, Alex?”

A/N: kinda hate this but i needed to get it out. title from jane eyre again <3 love dad alex

[system-to-the-madness]

Strawberry Daifuku - Sugawara Kōshi x Reader

Pairing: Sugawara Kōshi x fem!Reader AU: college!AU Genre: hurt/comfort Word Count: 3 144 Summary: Suga plans to confess to you the day before Valentine’s Day, but the conversation takes a different turn A/N: I know, usually chocolates are given on Valentine’s Day, not Daifuku (filled mochi), but I made some today for the first time so…

Masterlist

Sugawara Kōshi was not entirely sure why he felt like a complete fool, standing in front of your door, and yet hesitating to ring. It was the thirteenth of February, just one day before Valentine’s Day, and while he knew that on Valentine’s Day the girls were supposed to confess, he felt like he actually couldn’t stand bottling up his feelings even one day more. Especially when he was placing his bets on you confessing first.

Would he even have a chance with you?

It was weird, he had known you for three years already, having met you at the entrance exams to the university. You had talked then, and when you had bumped into one another at the orientation a few months later, it felt like you both had chosen the other as your ride-or-die. After that it hadn’t taken Sugawara long to fall for you. It had crept in on him since day one, he realized, and the following years he had tried his best to keep his feelings in check.

But what were you feeling for him? He wasn’t sure.

He knew you considered him as one of your closest friends, so there was definitely the risk of losing this friendship if he confessed and you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. But then again, you were both finished with your third year of university. The next year would barely consist of classes, instead you’d both focus on your part-time jobs. You already had a job-offer lined up for after graduation, and Sugawara was aiming to join the masters-degree in one year before starting to work as a teacher. That meant, in the next year you’d both be busy, you’d both drift apart. You might never again be as close to each other as right now, so this felt like the last possible moment to tell you the truth.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow and the chance that maybe you would confess. Not that he thought you might. You didn’t exactly act like you were interested in him in that way.

Admittedly, he also didn’t know what you acted like when you were interested in someone. In the three years of your friendship, he had never once seen you express any sort of interest in anyone. Which, as foolish as it was, had always given him the hope, that he might have a chance to worm himself into your heart after all.

The person brushing past him in the stairwell on their way downstairs tore him out of his thoughts. Still feeling incredibly foolish, he exhaled with a sigh and pressed the doorbell. The ringing could be heard through the door, and a moment later the sound of something cluttering and muffled swearing.

Suga hid his giggle, and quickly straightened his face when he heard steps approaching the door. A moment later it swung open, revealing you, dressed in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized shirt and an apron. You only took a quick look at Suga’s face before you already turned around again.

“Come in,” you greeted, “I have something on the stove.” Aaaand you were gone again.

Quickly Suga pushed his foot into the closing door, stopping it from falling into the lock. Mumbling a quiet ‘Ojamashimasu’ as he stepped into your flat, he toed of his shoes in the genkan and followed you into the kitchen, just in time to see you pull a pot from the stovetop, and pouring the white, liquid content into a bowl.

“Cooking,” he asked, stepping closer to see what you were making.

“Uhm, not really. Making chocolates,” you corrected, taking a whisk, and beginning to stir. That was when Suga spied the carton of cream and the empty chocolate bar wrappers on the counter.

“Oh, for tomorrow?” He hadn’t imagined bringing up the topic so quickly.

“What’s tomorrow?” Or not.

“Valentine’s Day…”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, mixing the cream with the melting chocolate. “You know me, I stopped giving away Valentine’s Day chocolates after middle school.”

“I just thought, you know, making chocolates on the day before Valentine’s…” Suga trailed of. “Maybe there’s someone you want to confess to.”

You chuckled amused. “I wouldn’t confess to someone just because it’s Valentine’s Day. The chances of getting rejected are just as high as every other day of the year.”

“Wait, you’ve never tried confessing to someone on Valentine’s Day?” So his chances of getting a confession from you tomorrow had never existed anyway. But also, it suddenly made him doubt that it might be a good idea to confess to you now.

“No,” you admitted, stirring the chocolate-cream mix a little harder. “I wouldn’t confess to someone unless I were fairly certain they’d reciprocate my feelings… Besides, why should I confess to someone, if they’ve can’t be bothered to confess to me any other day of the year? Apparently, they’re not interested enough in me, for me to make the effort of confessing on that one special day. If I want to confess, I might do it as well on any other day. And besides, I’ve never seen the sense in confessing just to confess. And it makes things awkward, especially if it happens between friends.”

Suga felt his heart dropping. Had you figured out his feelings for you? Was this your way of saying ‘Keep that confession and let’s pretend everything’s back to normal’?

“I think most people who confess, knowing their feelings aren’t reciprocated, do so for closure,” Suga said, wondering why his voice suddenly sounded so sharp.

You seemed to have noticed his change in tone, too, looking up from the bowl you had kept stirring.

“Yeah, of course. And if that works for them, that’s cool. Doesn’t mean it would work for me.”

Suga blinked. He felt like he had been rejected even without having confessed anything yet.

“Sooo, you’re just making chocolates for fun? Or as friendship-chocolates?”

“For fun, I doubt anyone would want to eat my chocolates,” you laughed, as if trying to dispense the suddenly tense atmosphere.

“I would,” Suga shrugged, making you look up again.

“Is that your way of saying after three years you’re finally expecting chocolates on Valentine’s Day from me,” you laughed again, raising your eyebrows at him teasingly.

“Well, not expecting,” Suga defended, making you laugh even more. Oh, how he loved that sound. “Just… I wouldn’t complain.”

“Yeah, you and sweets,” you laughed. “But friendship-chocolates are usually store-bought, right? Wouldn’t it be weird to give you homemade ones?”

“I don’t care, chocolate is chocolate,” Suga mumbled, but he couldn’t deny that getting to eat something you had made would mean more to him than getting something he could as well have bought for himself in the store. “I mean, all you have to do is say ‘Those are friendship-chocolates’ and the other person knows what’s going on, right?”

“I guess so,” you agreed, grabbing the bowl you had been stirring the chocolate in, and emptying the contents into a prepared form, laid out with baking paper. “Aw man, this is not turning out nice.”

Suga couldn’t help the giggle that slipped over his lips as he watched you try to smooth down the surface of the chocolate in the baking tray, but it kept sticking to the knife you were using, creating waves, and refusing to smooth down.

“Oh, by the way, why did you drop by?”

Right, there had been a very specific reason. When he had stepped into your small flat, he had been very certain he would finally have the courage to confess his feelings for you. But now…?

The conversation of the past minutes had taken any confidence he had had. Not only was he more convinced than ever that you didn’t like him back, but you had also made it quite clear, that you would think it would make things awkward if someone confessed to you, who you didn’t feel the same way about. And suddenly he felt like it would be best to lie, as usual, while also trying to make his escape as quickly as possible.

“Oh, no reason really,” he answered, but there was one thought in the back of his mind that he just couldn’t get rid of. “Do you really think, someone who truly likes you, wouldn’t confess just because they can’t be bothered?”

“Well, no, of course not,” you sighed, still fighting a silent battle with the chocolate. “It takes tremendous amounts of courage to confess. And perhaps the person thinks just like me, that it’s not worth confessing if they’re not sure I like them. But if they aren’t sure I like them, it’s probably because I don’t. Because I’m really bad at hiding when I like someone, so if I did, they probably would have noticed very quickly. Why do you ask?”

Giving up the fight with the chocolate, you stood up straight, giving Suga a long look as if you expected him to say something. It felt like the way you were looking at him caused something inside of him to tense, all these feelings he had buried deep inside his chest for so long.

Couldn’t you avert your gaze? It was driving him crazy, made him feel like you were reading deep in his soul, laying bare all his well-kept secrets. And then it was too much. Just a minute ago he had decided against telling you the real reason for his visit, and now-

“The real reason I came here today was to tell you that I’ve been in love with you for the past three years.” The words came over his lips so quickly and fluently, he didn’t even know how the phrase had formed in his mind, and before he could quite register the surprised expression in your eyes, or the way your mouth dropped into a tiny “o”, or the way your breath hitched, he continued. “I know you think it will make things awkward, and it probably will. But I owe it to myself to be honest about the way I feel, and I’ve lied to myself for long enough, telling myself it’s okay to just have you as a friend until you eventually fall in love with someone and get together with them. But the truth is, I couldn’t stand that pain. I still value as a friend, but until I’ve dealt with these feelings, it wouldn’t be fair, not to either of us, to continue like this. Sorry.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, not wanting to hear those fateful words of ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that way about you’, he quickly turned around, slipped into his shoes, not bothering to put them on properly, and escaped through the front door. It really felt like an escape, out of that small room of yours that smelled so nicely of chocolate and the laundry detergent you used and your shampoo. Out of that room that seemed to close in on him with every second that the realization increased that he’d never get to call himself yours. Just out of that room. And away from you.

The door was already falling into it’s lock when you called for him, your voice carrying something akin to panic, but Suga ignored you, just sprinted down the steps, grabbed his bike and made sure he got home as quickly as possible, hoping nobody would see his quivering lip or the tears on his cheeks.

-

Suga tried to call Daichi at last half a dozen times before he turned off his phone, unable to see your name appearing on the screen again and again as you tried calling him. Daichi was probably still at work, so he couldn’t answer, Suga reminded himself, as he buried himself in the blankets on his bed, turning on some anime he had watched over the past few weeks. Outside it had gotten dark quickly after he had returned home, and eventually he had fallen asleep to the noise of the show still running on the small screen of his laptop.

The next morning was, much to Suga’s dismay, bright and sunny. The weather had quickly taken a warm turn after the cold of January, plum blossoms already blooming on the trees he could see from the window in his dorm. Yesterday around this time, he had still imagined what it would be like to take you out for a date today. Nothing grand, maybe buy some cake at the small bakery at the corner, or at the convenience store, take a blanket and sit in the sun at the side of the river. But now the good weather did nothing but annoy him, so he pulled the curtains closed and tried to ignore the world outside. Which worked quite well, until the doorbell rang around noon. Wondering whether he had forgotten about an online order he had made, he got up and opened the door, only to come face to face with you.

You were nervous, he could tell that from even just a glance. Yesterday he had not only been disappointed and sad, but also angry, more at himself than anyone else. But now, with a bit of distance to his outbreak the day before, it was easier to stay calm.

“Happy Valentine’s,” you smiled shyly, avoiding his eyes, as you held out a small box to him. It was one of those cute Valentine’s Day paper boxes he had seen in the 100yen shop for the past weeks.

“Uhm…,” awkwardly Suga stood in the door, before hesitantly taking the box from you. “Wanna come in?”

“Are you sure?”

It felt like a stab to the heart. How had he managed to make you feel anything but welcome in his home in the span of a few minutes yesterday afternoon?

“Yeah, I mean…”

He stepped aside, holding the door open for you. You mumbled the usual greeting as you took off your shoes and stepped into the small, single room apartment.

“I tried making strawberry Daifuku. Emphasis on tried,” you explained, standing around a little helplessly. Suga motioned for you to sit down on one of the cushions of his small table on the floor. “I couldn’t find any red bean paste though, so I made them with chocolate cream.”

“You made them yourself,” Suga wondered, placing the small box on the table, and fetching two plates from the shelf above the sink.

“They’re for valentine’s day after all. So, I thought I might as well put in some effort. They’re kind of ugly though, just saying. Well, not ugly, they just look… authentically handmade.”

Suga giggled at your comment, placing the plates down on the table and fetching a bottle of milk tea and two classes.

“I thought you weren’t in the habit of handing out friendship-chocolates,” he teased. Sure, it kind of hurt, knowing you had rejected him yesterday, although technically you had never phrased it. He was just infinitely glad, that he hadn’t completely destroyed your friendship. “Or friendship-Daifuku, I guess.”

“No, I’m not,” you answered, and the suddenly tense tone made Suga freeze mid-motion, making him look up at you. “Those are not friendship-chocolates.”

“What?”

“They’re just… ordinary Valentine’s Day chocolates. The kind you give to the person you like, to confess to them. Because that’s what I’m here for. To tell you that I like you and have liked you a lot for a long time and- yeah. That’s why I’m here anyway.” You exhaled shakily, still not looking up at Suga, who stood like frozen half-way between the fridge and the table you were seated at.

He blinked a few times, trying to make your words make sense in his head. You liked him?

“Why didn’t you just say that yesterday,” he asked the first thought that popped into his mind.

“I tried,” you defended, finally looking up at him, and could see how close you were to bursting into tears. “I tried, but you just ran away and then wouldn’t answer my calls! And I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me after that…”

Suga swallowed thickly, walking the rest of the way over to you, crouching down besides you and placing the glasses down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot and confessing in such an undignified manner. And then running away before giving you the chance to answer. I messed up big time.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not. It’s really not. But unfortunately, I can’t change how much of an idiot I was in the past, so let me make it up to you? We can go for a walk, take the tea and the Daifuku, sit in the park for a bit and talk? If you’d like, that is.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, a smile finally tucking at your lips.

“Sounds like a date,” you teased, making his heart skip a beat.

“I was hoping for it to be one,” Suga grinned, standing back up.

He already knew exactly which spot in the park he wanted to take you to. Not the one underneath the plum blossoms. The grass there was in the shade, and without the sun it wouldn’t be warm enough for the thin jacket you were wearing. Instead, he’d take you to the other side of the river, that was in full early spring sun, from where you’d have a perfect view on the blossoms. And when you had eaten the treats which you had made and drunk the tea he would bring, he’d tell you again how much he liked you. Properly this time, without the annoyance and impatience in his voice, only with affection and warmth. Because you deserved nothing less than that.

Holding his hand out to you, he helped you off the floor, but didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft, lingering kiss on your knuckles that made both of your cheeks heat up.

When he pulled away, he quickly busied himself with throwing on a cardigan and pushing the bottle of milk tea he was still holding into one of the pockets before he grabbed the box of treats you had made for him and held his other hand out for you again. After a moment’s hesitation, you placed your own in his, watching as he closed his fingers around yours gently.

“Let’s go,” he smiled, guiding you out of the apartment, locking the door behind you. As he was walking down the stairs, the first box of sweets he had ever gotten for a Valentine’s Day in one hand, your hand in the other, he couldn’t wait to turn the rest of the day into the best first date either of you would have ever been able to imagine.

[phantomannkaun]

[𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄] 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘕𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪 ~ 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 𝘖𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘛 <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

contains: smut, 18+, fem reader, relationship, dirty talk, sex, restrained, pet names, praising, slight degrading and force

MINORS PLEASE DON'T INTERACT!! 18+

Thanks for reading <3 Enjoy ! (´ε｀ )♡

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

background information: Nanami and you met a couple years ago when you were 23 and he was 24. At the time he was still a salaryman working a 9 to 5 job. You met him at work you were an office assistant and he couldn't help but fall in love with you at first sight. He denied his feelings for the longest time until you started to talk to him more and more. Finally after talking around the office for awhile he asked you out on a date and that's where everything started.

You two went out for a month or two before you became official. After dating for awhile you decided to move in with him and your guys' chemistry was unmatched. You guys had a steady relationship given you were busy and understood each other in that way.

A year later when you were 24 and he was 25, Nanami became a sorcerer again which altered his hours. You'd get home 3 hours before he would which made you sort of lonely. However, despite the loneliness, Nanami still gave you attention when he got home and you guys had a well maintained intimacy life. Overall, you and Nanami were going good.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

present time: From the couch, you tilt your head over to the kitchen. The clock above the stovetop of the oven read 9:46pm in the glowing blue color. You titled your head back followed with a sigh.

"Where the hell is he?" You asked yourself wondering where Nanami was.

Nanami usually gets home every night around 7pm-8pm and at the latest 9. If he's any later than that he'll usually drop you a text and let you know. That was always routine for you two so it was out of the ordinary that you haven't even received as much as a text. You shifted positions in the couch with your laptop on your lap to get more comfortable. You were finishing up some late night work before you were going to head off to sleep like normal.

"I guess I'll just go get ready for bed now while I wait for him..." You thought to yourself followed by another sigh.

You snapped the laptop shut as you politely placed the laptop on the coffee table in front of you. You began to your room still confused and starting to be almost worried where Nanami was. You walked into your walk-in closet and put on a nice light grey oversized sweater that went over your hands. As you proceeded to take your pants off, you heard the door unlock and footsteps. You wanted to go see Nanami to ask why he hadn't text or anything of the sorts so you began walking out of the room still without pants. You were wearing a black laced thong, one of Nanami's favorites which was unintentional.

"Hey babe why are you back so late? And why didn't you text me that'd you be back later like usual?" You asked curiously while slowly making your way out of the bedroom into the main area. You could already sense the negative annoyed energy surfacing off of him.

He ignored you which made you mad. "Uhm... hello? I asked a question" As you spoke he was taking off his suit jacket and putting his stuff down.

In a hasty way with an attitude underlying his voice he replied with a simple "Overtime."

"...Okay... but you usually tell me? So what was different about today huh?" I asked with the same attitude back.

Nanami suddenly stopped what he was doing and you could feel the anger raging off of him. He removed his glasses and set them on the counter and glared at you while proceeding to stride towards you. Still confused you just waited for him to get closer to see what his deal was.

Nanami, while looking down at you began to speak in haste. "Don't fucking give me that attitude y/n." He paused for a second and started to grab your waist slowly. "I had to deal with curses all day and night and I come home to you giving me attitude."

He suddenly lifted your chin up with his other hand which caused your eyes to widen a bit. Your breath got heavier and shakier as your bodies response to Nanami's advances. With force and impulse he pushed you up against the wall that was behind you. Immediately he began to press his warm lips against yours and before you knew it he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but be extremely turned on by these impulses so you returned the kiss completely.

After a couple seconds of making out you started to grip his shirt tightly to let him know how you were enjoying yourself. Nanami noticed, let off the kiss so he could pick you up which caused you to wrap your legs around him. He walked to the bedroom and basically threw you on the bed like you were nothing. His strength could be seen through his veiny muscular forearms from the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. When you were laying on your back on your guys' bed you could see him staring up at you. His pissed expression only turned you on even more. You knew tonight he wasn't gonna hold and that thought alone only contributed to how wet you were.

Nanami couldn't help but stare at your beautiful exposed legs reclined on the bed he had just thrown you on. It was making him even more solid then he already was. He was breathing heavy his mind was set on railing you all night. He reached for his spotted yellow and black tie and loosened it till he could take it off. Once the tie was separated, he instantly started to unbutton his shirt as he also continued to climb on top of you to kiss you more.

When he climbed on top of you again and your tongues intertwined again, you helped him undo his belt. After his belt was undone by you he forcefully grabbed your wrists with one hand and slammed them above your head which caused you to let out a soft moan. Nanami got up quickly to take off his button down shirt entirely tossing it onto the hardwood floor. You two were already breathing so heavy.

While still on top of you his eyes traveled down. He suddenly grabbed your soft chin tightly. "You're going to do what I want you to do y/n. Take that sweater off. I wanna see all of you."

He let off of your chin giving you a chance to take off the grey sweater you put on earlier. Once off, you were not wearing a bra which he noticed. When he started to go at it again you predicted you two would begin making out again however you were wrong. He made it to your neck and he did not hold back one bit. He started off by kissing which turned into sucking and biting. This change of action caused you to let out moans which only made him go more. You were gripping onto his muscular arms as the pain and pleasure took over your whole body. He kept making his way further down and down until he reached your chest. He was not stopping which only made you soak even more. He started to press his body more and more on you when now you could feel his hard member pressed onto your cvnt.

Nanami seemed to catch onto the fact that you were soaked now and it drove him insane. He wanted to just rail you so bad. He couldn't hold on anymore, he basically ripped off your laced panties and proceeded to push his long fingers into you. You squealed and your back arched. While he started to finger you, he took that opportunity to take his bottoms off. Once off, he climbed back on top of you and positioned his member but stopped for a second.

Nanami looked into your eyes deeply. He looked like he had daggers of rage in his eyes. You knew in that moment that you were about to get destroyed by him. In an impulsive way, with one hand he took your wrists and pulled them above you then he pushed his cock into you deep. It hurt but it was a good type of hurt for you. Your back arched and you let out a moan that could almost be classified a scream.

Nanami proceeded to thrust again but before he did it once more, he got close to you ear and whispered something closely. "Are you gonna take it?" Instantly after he said that he hit another thrust as he awaited a response.

Nanami's was long and thick and it was painful but so good so you almost always cried but you loved it. You struggled over your words "y- yes..."

Nanami giggled a bit and then whispered one last time saying "good girl." before going at it again.

With each thrust you couldn't help but almost scream his name. Nanami noticed your hands fidgeting as he held them above you so he decided to let go of them. Once he let go of your frantic hands he planted his hands next to your head as he proceeded to absolutely plow you. You grabbed his back and in all the pleasure and pain with each thrust going harder and harder, you dug your nails into his back which created marks.

This made Nanami groan in the pleasure he was experiencing "fuck y/n..." He stopped and was still sweating. He pulled out for a minute and got up.

You looked up at him in confusion and then he began speaking still panting like a dog. "Beg for it."

You were so soaked already. Covered in sweat, tears, smeared makeup and all you wanted was to keep going. Stopping wasn't in your mind so in desperation you did as told. "P-please Nanami! Please d-don't stop"

When you continued to beg it made him chuckle. He loved seeing you beg like this. After a bit of you begging he decided to act on it. Before you could think, he grabbed your waist and turned you over on your back. Nanami's strength never failed to surprise you. He could just throw you down effortlessly. Once on your stomach, he got off of the bed and pulled you towards him and grabbed your waist to pull it towards him so you were now leaning off of the bed while he was behind you. Without warning, he dug his fingers into your waist and thrusted his rock hard cock into you.

"Fuck... you're taking it so well." His praising was driving you crazy. As he kept plowing you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria rush through you which was making you louder and louder.

Nanami could tell the praising was working. He continued: "That's my girl... show off for me baby come on" After saying that, he released one of his hands to slap your ass and grab it still plowing you.

"N-N-Nanami! I do- I don't know if i can-" You couldn't even form a sentence. "Mmgh" You let out several loud moans while proceeding to grip the bedsheets.

"Baby- I'm gonna-" He stopped as soon as you said that.

"Not until I say so." He replied. He wanted you to wait, he wanted control so bad. The sexual frustration caused you to begin begging again. It was like you were throwing a fit. This was so amusing to Nanami who then started to tease you even more.

"Not until I say so... you look so pretty begging." He then put it in once more but this time slower. He took the initiative to lean forward to grab you hair and pull it up which caused you to let out a shriek.

"You wanna take it?" This channeled more frustration and anger in your system. It caused you to beg for more and more until he gave you more.

Your moans and noises were music to his ears but he wanted you louder. "Hmm... I can't hear you y/n... use your words princess" His voice was so careless and monotone when he said it. You couldn't help but follow his every request. Him being in control of you was the best feeling. Pure ecstasy.

After about a couple minutes of his repetitive thrusts in and out, you were finally about the finish. "fuck babe... you're doing so good... finish for me now." Nanami finally ordered.

With that, at last you reached your climax. Nanami massaged your back with one hand as he still had the other on your waist "I've got you... I've got you." You could still feel him inside you. He was so big.

Your cvm was now all on his cock which made him go insane. Its always hot to him when you finish before him.

"Such a pretty girl" The last thing Nanami said before going at it again. Even though you were tired you wanted to keep going. Now it was your mission to have him finish. When he was thrusting you were helping with his movements by going into him more. It drove him to insanity. "I'm gonna fill you up... god your so tight" Nanami was panting heavy on top of him groaning nonstop.

"Good girl..." Nanami kept repeating as the euphoria began to hit him. Finally he reached his climax, his fingers dug into you with one final thrust. He let out a load inside of you. You could feel it. All of it. Once he got out of you, you two were panting like dogs. Both your hair was all messed up and your makeup was smeared down your face. So many marks and hickeys.

The rest of the night concluded with you two cuddling together, your legs almost being unable to be used. Funny enough, Nanami was now in a better mood than before. Overtime is his most hated thing ever but fucking you always makes him feel better.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

[lostloveletters]

One of Those Nights (Sonny Corleone x Reader)

Summary: You’re Sonny and Sandra’s go-to babysitter, and when Sandra’s out of town for the weekend, Sonny needs all the help he can get.

Note: College-aged female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I listened to Donna Summer while writing this lol. Anyway, my first Godfather reader-insert fic! Do not interact if you're under 18, a terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Implied age gap, power imbalance, cheating. Sexually explicit content involving unprotected sex and Sonny's canonically huge cock. A little bit of praise kink. Do not interact if you're under 18.

Your eyes fluttered open from your half-asleep stupor at the sound of the front door’s locks clicking. Sitting up on the couch, you quickly smoothed out your blouse and skirt. You just barely made it into the kitchen when Sonny got in.

“Sorry I’m back so late. I wanted to be home to put the kids to bed—“

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine, Mr. Corleone. Frank and the twins are already asleep. There’s some sausage with peppers and onions in the icebox if you haven’t eaten. I can heat it up quick on the stove for you.”

“Jesus, you’re already doin’ us a favor staying the weekend while Sandra’s outta town,” he said, shedding his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. “And how many times do I gotta tell you, you can call me Sonny.” He playfully pinched your cheek. “I’m not that old yet, am I?”

“No,” you giggled. “Sorry, Sonny.”

The kitchen's layout was almost second-nature to you at that point, having done plenty of cooking for Sonny and Sandra's sweet kids when you babysat them. You grabbed a frying pan, setting it on the stovetop and pouring in a few drops of olive oil before turning on the flame. By the time you got the plate you saved for Sonny out of the refrigerator, the oil was sizzling, and the scent of sweet peppers and onions filled the kitchen again when you’d scraped the contents of the plate into the pan. 

Sonny was quiet behind you, save for him tapping his freshly lit cigarette against the porcelain ashtray on the kitchen table. You knew the sound well. His gaze burned through your back to your rapidly beating heart as you became increasingly aware that you were alone with him, the man who you lusted after in quiet guilt, because he was married and you were his children’s babysitter, for Christsake. 

After a few minutes, the sausage with peppers and onions appeared thoroughly reheated, and you transferred the meal back onto the plate. You grabbed a nearby loaf of crusty bread, cutting a piece for him and placing it with the rest of the food.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Sonny said, grabbing the plate from the counter.

“Anytime.”

You returned to the living room, tuning the radio to the station that was broadcasting Lights Out, a late night horror show that always sucked you in no matter how hard you tried to remind yourself it was only a radio story. At least it’d get your mind off of Sonny, out of the gutter–or into a different one at least. You sat on the couch, fidgeting with your hands as you let yourself get lost in the host’s voice as he told the latest tale of terror.

You nearly screamed when Sonny appeared in the living room with his plate of food and asked, “You listen to this garbage?”

“It usually scares me into staying awake.”

He snickered to himself, taking the spot on the couch next to you. “For what?”

“My roommates and I play it in the dorm during finals to keep us up when coffee doesn’t cut it.”

“How’s college goin’ anyway? Straight As, right?”

“I made the dean’s list last semester.”

He shook his head. “Smart and beautiful, whatever lucky guy ends up with you is gonna have his hands full.” He glanced at your chest, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a moment before going back to his food. “Your cooking might be a little better than San’s. Don’t tell her I said that.”

You smiled, keening at his compliment. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You didn’t have to stay up for me, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“Why’s that?”

You faltered. “I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled, amused by your answer. “You’re sweet. Gonna give me a toothache if you keep that up.”

“Is that so bad?”

Sonny shook his head as he set his plate down on the coffee table. “‘Course not.” He got up to turn the radio off, the sound of his voice engulfing you in a warm haze, “Don’t get a chance to be alone with you enough.” He placed his hand on your knee when he sat back down, rubbing his thumb against your stocking-clad leg, the feeling frustratingly electric as the thin fabric was all that lay between the skin-on-skin contact you craved from him.

Your lips parted, trying to conjure up a response, but only managing a shaky breath and a weak nod of agreement. 

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do, doll,” he whispered, his voice low.

“I want you, Sonny,” you assured him. 

He kissed you with a passion you swore only existed in movies, not the hesitant or sloppy handling you’d experienced from past boyfriends, but the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Heat rushed over your skin at the confirmation that he wanted you, his hands on your body, sliding up your skirt as he grabbed your ass, pulling you closer to him so that you were practically straddling his lap. You steadied yourself on his biceps, giving them a squeeze, letting yourself feel him, acknowledge your desire for him that had been latent until then.

You moaned into his mouth, his tongue capturing the sound, claiming your expression of desire as his. And who else would it be for? You’d always found him handsome and charismatic, always were a bit too curious about what was behind each vaguely flirtatious comment or sly wink he’d send your way when no one else was looking. 

“Sonny, where–where should we–”

“We can do it out here, but you gotta be quiet. You can do that for me, right?”

You nodded eagerly.

Hunger glistened in his dark eyes as he smiled wolfishly. “Attagirl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at his praise, the way he made you feel naked with just his gaze. You unbuttoned your blouse, letting it slip from your arms and tossing it aside onto the floor. Sonny pulled you onto his lap, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he kneaded your breasts through your bra. Soon, that wasn’t enough, and he pulled them from the cups, his hands on your soft skin as he squeezed. His thumbs brushed over your nipples. You gasped. You wanted his hands on you like that all the time, had imagined–secretly hoped, even–that he’d do it one day while you were in the kitchen or in the narrow hallway to the bedrooms, that he’d grope you, kiss you, do something to make you stop feeling so crazy about him. In that moment you realized getting what you wished for only made you want him more.

His lips burned deliciously against your skin, and you groaned at the gentle bites he left on your neck and shoulders. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his hard cock straining through his pants, desperate for more friction against your pussy. 

“You feel that? You feel what you do to me?” he murmured against your tender skin.

“I need you,” you whined. “Please, Sonny.”

“Alright, doll. Lay back for me, alright?”

You did as he asked, shifting off of his lap to lie back on the couch. You watched intently, hungrily, as he unbuckled his belt, pulling his cock free from his pants, slowly pumping his length in his hand. You nearly choked. Sandra had made jokes about Sonny’s size before, ones that made your face heat up in embarrassment at her talking so crudely about him, but you’d always thought she was exaggerating. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, silently wondering if he could even fit inside you, an almost morbid curiosity only further fueling your desire.

A tender concern spread across his face as he searched yours for any sign of hesitation. “You sure you’re alright with this?”

You nodded. “I’ve wanted you in a bad way for so long.”

“How bad?” he asked, his voice husky and low.

Your lips nearly touched his as you whispered your answer. “Shameful.”

He kissed you again, this time with an intensity that nearly knocked the wind out of you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your panties and stockings, pulling them down so you could kick them off, ending up with one leg hanging off of the couch, exposing your wet pussy for him. You buried your fingers into his hair, the kiss desperate and wanton, your mouth open for him in a soft gasp as his pushed his tip inside you. 

It wasn’t enough, the primal part of your brain screamed. You needed more. Digging your nails into his scalp, you lifted your hips, taking more of him in you.

“Don’t hold back, Sonny. I can take it,” you said.

He licked his lips, staring at you for a split second before determining you meant what you said. He filled you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he thrust into you, finding a rhythm that would’ve been painful if you weren’t already wet for him. 

“Y’know, I used to get off thinkin’ about this,” he grunted, “bending you over the kitchen counter or up against the bathroom door.”

“Sonny–I–”

“You know how long I’ve wanted you? Now I’ve got my pretty college girl coming apart for me.”

“Oh my god–fuck–Sonny–” Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes struggling to stay open as his thrusts became deeper, more erratic. He was close, his cock twitching inside you, hitting that spot you’d only ever reached with your fingers before. No faking it, no having to do the heavy lifting yourself. 

He had to put his hand over your mouth when it hit you, white hot pleasure bursting in your brain, pulsing through your pussy as you grabbed at him, digging your fingers into his arms to ground yourself, feeling as though you’d lose control of your body otherwise. Your moans were muffled, incoherent nonsense as he fucked you through your climax to reach his. With another hard thrust, he came inside you. Overwhelmed by the sensation, your hips bucked and your pussy clenched hard around him, milking his cock as he came.

“Look at you, takin’ it all–fuck–” Sonny hissed out through gritted teeth, trying to maintain what little self-control he had as to not make too much noise. “So fuckin’ good for me–”

You whined at that, your overstimulated, fucked-out brain going into overdrive. You wanted to be good for him. You were good for him. 

You weren’t sure when it got so still, so quiet, but the only sound in the room was your and Sonny’s heavy breathing. He pulled out of you, your pussy feeling achingly empty. You looked at the ceiling, mildly aware of Sonny staring at you.

“How're you feeling? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

“I’ll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow,” you said breathlessly. “But that was great. Really I–I don’t know what else to say.”

He caressed your cheek, bringing your attention back to him. “I’m gonna get you a towel, alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, smiling a bit when he kissed your forehead before disappearing down the hall to the bathroom. And there were still two whole days left before Sandra got back. You smiled wider.

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 110)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this has narrations | god-awful pet names | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 110 next>>

A/N: Contains prose.

Joy. That’s what Gojo Satoru elicited in you. If there was a better word for it, a more appropriate permutation of words that described how he made you feel exactly, then it would probably be that. But that aside, your heart was filled with nothing but that very feeling even as you padded barefoot into your kitchen which was in shambles. Your mixing bowl lay in smithereens on the floor along with custard. Your stovetop would probably take ages to clean with all the splatters of cooked custard and butter. The counter was a mess with all the condiments he used, several unused utensils – just how many turners did he need? – and powdered sugar everywhere.

“Sweet cheeks!” he called out, looking up at you and stopping you from going in further, a broom on his hand. “Don’t come in here. T-there’s broken…” He looked silly with an apron on, his hair in disarray, held back by one of the fluffy headbands you usually used when you did your skincare. And weirdest of all, he was wearing one of your oversized shirts. Well, on you, that is. It looked like it was about to tear at the seams on him. You had to bite back laughter, seeing the dejected expression on his face. “What?”

You leaned against the fridge, crossing your arms, relishing in the absurdity of the situation. A person like Gojo Satoru was larger than life, meant to do great things, fly, not cook you breakfast – or attempt to – or clean your kitchen. Still, you enjoyed the scene and its domesticity, reminding you of that time in Hokkaido his mom caught the two of you playing with pancake batter. Now you doubted if he even made that, not that it mattered.

“Need help, handsome?”

He slowly shook his head, evidently sulking that you find amusement in his predicament. He wasn’t even holding the damn broom right. “No, I’ll clean up here. You stay in the living room.”

“You sure? You look like you’re in a pinch right now.”

At your taunting, he started whining, throwing the broom on the floor and walking over the mess on the floor to get to you, his lower lip jutting out even as he placed both his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him. “You’re being annoying today, baby. I’ll call one of our staff to clean up. The mess can wait.”

Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around him, using that as leverage as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Surprised at your sudden maneuver, he staggered backwards, supporting you on your thighs. You giggled at that, and though he said, “Extra annoying,” he still smiled giddily at you as he walked around your kitchen island. “You seem happy.”

“I am.”

Satoru sat you down on the island, the clean part anyway, and stood between your legs whilst he reached for the plate of French toasts he made, sliding it over the granite top. You looked down at it, grinning at the very nicely plated food before you, complete with sliced berries and perfectly smothered in snowy sugar.

“I can ignore the mess for the effort. Thank you.” You reached for the fork, but he stopped you, shaking his head. “No. You’re not doing anything today. My sweet cheeks will relax while I feed her, okay?”

“Can’t say I hate it.”

He took some of the toast, making sure it had all the elements in one bite as he held it before your mouth, this expectant look shining in his eyes when you finally opened up and tasted what he made. You chewed thoughtfully, nodding in approval. “Damn good French toasts, baby. A-plus.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. More.” You opened your mouth like a child much to his delight, more than glad to oblige. All the while, you just busied yourself with playing with the ears on the headband he was wearing, fully content in the little bubble you’ve both created in that corner of the kitchen where the morning sun shone just right on him.

“I got you orange juice, too. Wait, I’ll get it –” He moved back to get to the fridge, but you hooked your leg around him, stopping his progress and drawing him closer. Without preamble, you cupped his face, pressing your lips to his, intense from the get-go as you showed in actions just what you couldn’t tell him in words. You didn’t want him anywhere he is out of your reach, holding him in place by the nape while your other hand wandered down to the hem of his – your – shirt, tugging at it.

“Someone’s enjoying her breakfast too much,” he said as he heeded your unspoken command, pulling the garment off him. You swallowed hard, eyes wild as you took in every line and sinew of his musculature. “Well, this is infinitely better than breakfast.” You smirked when you saw his cheeks turn pink when he came closer, kissing you just as fervently as you did earlier.

You pawed at the ridiculous headband he was wearing, throwing it blindly somewhere in the kitchen. He slid the plate beside you further to the side as he grabbed your thighs, lifting them higher up his waist while you used your foot to push his sweatpants down, whining in frustration against his lips when you couldn’t quite get it off.

“Easy,” he spoke softly, eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his breathing steady and warm against your cheek. He made quick work of pushing his sweats down, taking his cock out, pretty as always as he gave it a few pumps. “You want this, hmm?”

“Want you, Toru,” you moaned, catching his lower lip between your teeth, spurring him on. He reached between your thighs, running his thumb over the wet patch there, rubbing your clit over the fabric. “Didn’t know you wanted to make babies for breakfast.”

“Please, baby,” you whined, “Want you.”

“Someone’s needy,” he teased, but gave you what you wanted, pushing your panties to the side. “So wet for me.” He held his dick, running its pink tip through your folds and sliding in just a bit at a time before he’s pulling back, easing in agonizingly slow that your patience was fraying. He did just that for a few more moments until he finally pushed in all the way, stealing the breath from your lungs when he repeated the action, pulling all the way to the tip before slowly going back into your heat. “Fuck, baby.”

He set a rhythm that had you seeing stars, his name falling in high-pitched whines from your mouth, lost in the undeniable pleasure of it all. At some point, he adjusted his angle, hitting you in all the right places that had acid white flashes dominating your vision, feeling like you were going to float into space if it weren’t for the bruising hold he had on your hips.

“Harder,” you managed to choke out in the midst of you pretty much losing your mind with the way he was continuously hitting your sweet spot. “D-don’t stop – ah! Fuck – more – mmhhh…”

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good – so fucking good.”

“I’m c-close…”

“I know, baby, I know.” He leaned down, gently peppering kisses on your cheeks down to your jawline and wherever else he could reach, his hips and breaths turning erratic as he thrust in shallower, faster strokes, his moans and grunts mixing with yours as he brought you to your high, long and dragged out as he found his own, following after you with a drawn out groan, your fluttering hole milking him for all he’s worth.

The kitchen was filled with ragged breaths as you both came down from whatever heaven he catapulted you both to. Soft laughter soon mingled with it as the full realization of what you did finally hit you. Satoru pushed himself up, hovering over you while he regarded you with those mischief-filled eyes.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I’m so damn in love with you, L/N Y/N. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You reached up as you pushed yourself to a sitting position, shivering slightly when he pulled out of you, your essences dripping on the tiles below you, but you couldn’t care less, kissing him stupid. “I love you, too.”

Satoru looked at you lovingly, seemingly drunk as he stood there, his forehead on yours as he cupped the side of your face. “Say you’ll stay with me for always. Say you’re not going anywhere I can’t see you.” He briefly pressed his lips onto yours. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Satoru. Yours alone.” You felt tears falling from your eyes as you pulled him closer, basking in the afterglow of your union. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/N: Almost done. I'm having separation anxiety huhuhu

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid @weebbuscuit @moonmalice @taengkatsu @reagan707 @to0ruu @shirabane @yell0wdreams @r0ckst4rjk @megtheebimbo @tmvll9 @kibananya @ti-mame @niko-ash @minzxec @sixxze

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20240423]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[lou-struck]

Pancakes for Dinner

Izuku Midoriya x reader

~ For some people, moving about the kitchen is effortless. You are not dating one of those people, but you appreciate Izuku’s efforts.

Wc:1.1k

a/n: I wrote this for pancake day but ended up having other things to do.

You think these cold, late winter days are starting to last just a bit longer. 

The evening drive home from work that usually has you chasing the sunset is now much brighter, and as your vehicle pulls into your driveway, the sky is just beginning to darken with rich shades of purple, pink, and orange.

Taking a deep breath in, you inhale the savory scent of someone using their grill the smokiness makes your stomach rumble as it yearns for a home-cooked meal. Between Izuku's hectic patrol schedule and your unorthodox work schedule, you cannot remember the last time you took the time to make a nice meal.

You hunger for something made with love and not just convenience.

But have not the energy to make it happen.

Tiredly, you reach your front door. You are about to put your key in the lock, but then you notice that it has already been unlocked. 

Tiredly, your lips form a small, fond smile when you realize that Izuku had gotten home before you. Maybe the two of you could order food and finally catch up on that show you've been meaning to watch.

"I'm home."

The front door closes behind you as your call remains unanswered. There is a doughy smell in the air, and the clanging of pots and utensils can be heard down the narrow hallway where your kitchen is located.

"Zuku?" you call again, following the noise with light steps, your socks pressing into the fluffy carpet. Your boyfriend's unmistakable sign reaches your ears just as you peer through the fluorescent-lit doorway. 

To say the kitchen is a disaster is an understatement. A creamy batter is splattered all over the countertops, and the cabinets and mixing bowls are piled high in the sink. But in the middle of the disaster, Izuku stands determinedly, his strong shoulders hunched over the stovetop poking at a skillet with a rubber spatula in complete concentration mode. The flames coming from the burner are ridiculously high as they lick the side of the pan.

The Sugarman apron you got him for Christmas secured snugly around his trim waist, tied with a lopsided bow. You wait to get his attention until he is a bit farther away from the dangerously high flames. Next to the stove, there is a plate piled high with crumbly bits of what you assume to be his attempts at making crepes. Some pieces are golden brown and paper-thin, while others are slightly thicker.

His phone is propped up against the ceramic flour jar, and when you see what covers the screen, your heart overflows with affection. It's the crepe video you sent him earlier while scrolling on your lunch break. You thought the recipe looked amazing and wanted to save it for later. 

But Izuku Midoriya, aka Mr. Acts of Service Is My Love Language, must've thought that you were craving them tonight.

"Izuku?" you call again. You voice much louder when he is out of arm's reach of the stove. You don't need to see his face to know that he is disappointed in how his crepes turned out as the one falls apart onto the plate. 

This time, the green-haired man turns with a bit of a jump in your direction. A bit of an embarrassed flush on his freckled cheeks as he runs his hand through his hair. 

"Y/n!" he smiles, glancing down at the mess. "You're home early today."

You walk in and lean in for a kiss. "Nope, right on time today." you hum playfully as he leans in for the kiss. Subtly, you reach behind him and turn the stove off, the flames dying quickly as you deny them of their fuel. Without the potential fire hazard, you shut your eyes and give his lips the full attention they deserve.

"Sorry about the mess," he murmurs against your lips. "I promise I'll clean it up when I am done.

You nod thoughtfully, knowing that he will. Izuku may be a bit clumsy when it comes to cooking, but he would never destroy the kitchen and leave you to pick up the pieces. "What are you up to here?" you tease, wetting your thumb with your tongue and wiping a bit of pancake batter that has somehow splattered onto his forehead.

"I- uhh." the tips of his ears turn pink as he looks sheepishly at the splatter marks on the cabinets. "I saw that video you sent me and wanted to surprise you by making some for you when you got home. I followed every step of the recipe, but making them was a lot harder than I thought it would be. As for the batter, I was a bit too strong when I was stirring everything together and it kinda went...everywhere."

You notice the way he awkwardly scans the room. But when he notices the plate from what he considers failed attempts out on the counter, he steps subtly to the side, trying to shield it with his body. But in truth, they may not look like the ones in the video, but they still look edible. 

"They really don't look bad," you say honestly. "This was your first time making them, so of course they wouldn't turn out perfect. 

"They are just broken little pieces," he mumbles more to himself than to you. His hand cupping his chin as he gets lost in his reflections. "Maybe I should've used a different pan or used oil instead of butter. The recipe only called for flour, but since they are breaking apart, I should've accounted for some sort of binding agent like yeast. Do they even use yeast in pancakes? I really tried to make them according to the recipe, but no matter what I did, they just kept tearing apart."

As he murmurs to himself, you reach over and pinch off a piece of one of the crepes to try. It tastes nice. The pieces are fully cooked, and the taste isn't too sweet at all. Overall, it's a solid first attempt. They were made with love, and that's all that matters.

"A-are they bad?" he asks, his eyes inspecting your face carefully as he waits to see your reaction. 

Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on his cheek, a simple act of reassurance that never fails to make your heart flutter. "Don't worry, they're perfect."

~

A bit later, the two of you find yourselves curled up on the couch, finally catching up on your show. In your laps are two bowls filled to the brim with scraps of crepes and toppings as you eat them with spoons.

Enjoying the sweet, sweet taste of breakfast for dinner.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[toffee4you]

Cooking with Silver

Content: GN!reader, can be platonic or romantic (moreso romantic), spoiler alert: it's on reader's birthday

Silver is taking over this account.... Help...

You were planning to cook by yourself since it was an off-day, which meant the school cafeteria's kitchen would be relatively empty. However, you realize there would be a change of plans as soon as you stepped into the kitchen and saw a certain sophomore towering over a countertop, the young man's auroral eyes focusing studiously on his workspace. There were several bowls strewn across the counter, as well as a pot set on the stove.

Since the kitchen was already occupied, you turned to leave before realizing... He was actually nodding off? You quickly darted into the kitchen again, tugging on the back of Silver's collar as to prevent him from falling face-first into his bowl of batter. He snaps back awake shortly after, rearing his head around to check who was behind him. His demeanor relaxed when he realized it was just you, apologizing with a soft "sorry..."

Worried about his tendency to fall asleep in a place full of potentially dangerous objects (stovetop, knives,..) you decided to help. Silver didn't want to burden you, but since were persistent about it, he eventually accepted your help. Initially, he restricted you to only the safest tasks, such as stirring the batter he made or pouring in extra ingredients. With his hand wrapped around yours, he gently guided you through the motions, making sure you were comfortable with it all. Occasionally, Silver would nod off, leaning against you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder. He would always apologize afterwards, his cheeks a slight tint of pink from embarrassment.

Once you were done with the batter, he let you work on the frosting by your own, deciding it would be polite to give you some space. Between preparing the other steps, he would periodically stop by to tell you "good job" or "it's looking good", doing his best to give encouragement despite his usual lack of vocabulary in complements. With the work of two, it seemed to take almost no time at all before the batter was baked and cooled. A sweet scent wafted throughout the air, surprisingly, being your favorite flavor. You could feel your stomach rumbling with the urge to taste it, but you knew better than to eat someone else's confection.

The last steps were frosting and decorating. Silver, once again, guided you through the steps. He seemed uncharacteristically worried about the cake, his hands tensed and steadied on coordinating both of your hands to piping with perfect symmetry. It made you wonder if it was a special day for someone in Diasomnia, or one of his friends. Moving on to decorating, he allowed you to add as much as you wanted on this part. Silver wasn't one for any particular aesthetics like Cater was, simply placing strawberries on the top of the cake to form a filled-out circle. You, on the other hand, went all out—and he didn't complain. As a matter of fact, you could swear you heard a chuckle from him, turning around to see the slightest hint of a rare smile on his face. It felt like your mind was playing tricks on you, but the sight was too real to deny.

Taking a step back, the two of you took a moment to admire the completed creation. It was a shame you didn't bake this for yourself, considering how perfect everything came out. At the very least, you received much of Silver's gratitude for helping, finally ready to part ways with him. However, as he picked up the cake, he set it back down on the counter in front of you and stuck a candle in it, lighting it with fire magic. Another small smile, though wider than before, dawned his face.

"Happy Birthday."