#you'd be surprised how much you find from just watching REALLY carefully

[pyrriax]

ever expanding list... (there's still some stuff i'm missing but a lot of that is because i chose to use an iris fork instead of optifine, honestly i don't even know why i did that but i'm not swapping it)

i know i have a couple things missing (mostly resource pack related stuff [armor, torches] but that's stuff i need to grab from other places / recreate in the case of the armor because that wasn't a public thing)

[biblio-smia]

all these pictures of you

tasm! peter parker x reader

summary: the amount of photos peter has of you versus him is a problem you've taken upon yourself to fix

masterlist | requests are open! buy me a ko-fi!

a lazy sunday. a much needed one, considering the bruises peter had collected the night before.

damp air begins creeping out from under the bathroom door just as peter begins washing his hair - you can tell from the familiar crash of the shampoo bottle he always drops.

you fight the feeling of heavy eyes stubbornly, the sound of peter's shower threatening to lull you to sleep without him - only disrupted by the piercing ringing coming from peter's side of the bed.

it takes a while to track the noise of an alarm peter probably forgot to turn off in the mess of duvets, your fingers tapping the screen frantically once you find peter's phone.

there's only one big crack on his screen this time - peter's gotten better at taking care of his phones ever since he started calling you while out on patrol.

your own phone is elsewhere, either left behind in another room or out of battery and you need something to keep you awake until peter gets back. he should be almost done by now but each second feels like an eternity with such soft pillows under your head.

peter's password is muscle memory - if he could get your face to unlock his phone he would. instinct pulls you to the camera app to snap a few stupid photos but curiosity leads you to the contents of the rest of peter's gallery.

it's you, unsurprisingly. other than a few stray screenshots and some beautiful nature shots, it's you. you with a drink in your hand, you watching something on your phone, you with your back turned to peter.

dozens upon dozens, multiple scrolls worth of pictures of you - all of them probably the best anyone's been able to capture of you.

peter takes every picture of you with care - you're not sure there's a single photo where even the lighting looks off. even photos taken in five seconds tops were better work than you could've ever done.

you try to remember how many photos like these you have of peter. there's no shortage of photos of him on your phone but you're pretty positive the closest thing you've ever gotten is the photo currently on your lock screen - peter winking at you through a tall glass.

the bathroom door opens with a creak and peter sighs happily as he pads out of the bathroom, freshly washed and dried hair falling over his forehead even as he tried to push it away.

he's barely out a few seconds before he's jumped into bed with a groan muffled by the thick covers. it's not long before his face appears next to yours, sporting a cozy smile that makes your insides warm.

"watcha looking at?" peter hums, settling against his pillows and attempting to pull you into his arms.

he's surprised at your resistance, questions in his raised eyebrows as you only hum a response and lift yourself to hover over him.

you hoist yourself up and back up, aiming peter's camera carefully.

"what're you doing?" peter laughs, instinctively covering his face.

"shhh," you whisper, pulling peter's hand off carefully. you're really not sure how he does it but you do manage to get some photos of peter with a half-decent composition - though you'd argue that his face makes up for your lack of precision.

you let yourself lean into peter now, back to his chest with his arms wrapped securely around you as you analyze your new pictures. peter is greedy, nudging his nose into your skin right above where he kisses it.

"what's this about, hmm?" peter hums against your skin.

"nothing," you mumble, sending yourself all the photos. "you're just pretty."

peter's quiet, unusually so. his hand comes up from your waist to take his phone back and set it on his nightstand, arms coming to turn you towards him.

he's careful with you, hands holding your face, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks.

"come on, how can i not kiss you for that one?”

[xothatnerdykid]

read your mind

You’re a newly minted pro-hero with a quirk that lets you to read the mind of anyone you touch. So imagine your surprise when you accidentally read a certain stoic, brooding hero's mind and find out he doesn't hate you like you thought, but rather, something dangerously close to the opposite.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader. NSFW but not very explicit. 5,002 words.

“Your form was sloppy,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

You used to cringe when he’d tell you things like that, become sheepish and apologetic. Now, after months of knowing him, you'd simply smile and quip, “Awww, you watching my saves on the news again?”

You hated bumping into him. He was the reason you tended to leave mission briefings early: the ever-stoic, perpetually unimpressed Pro Hero Eraserhead.

As a relatively new hero working in the same city, you were thrilled at the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. But your excitement quickly dimmed the first time you met as you noticed his gruff demeanor and critical, scrutinizing gaze.

You knew he was tough on everyone, but there were times when it felt like his criticism was directed at you more than anyone else. And no matter how hard you tried or how much praise everyone else gave you, he always found something to correct.

So, for the sake of keeping your self-esteem intact, you’ve resorted to treating his criticism like a game, teasing him back whenever he dropped one of his classic deadpan remarks. It was either that or crumble under the weight of his seemingly endless disapproval.

But today, all you can muster is a grunt in response, head throbbing from fatigue and chronic sleep deprivation.

“That’s my line,” he says flatly. Because apparently, someone always has to be the cheeky one between the two of you.

“Can we just…” You rub your temple, wincing as the pain spikes. "Can we just not do this today?”

“Are you feeling alright?” His voice loses a bit of its usual sharpness as he steps closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you huff, waving him off. "Just tired. We can't all function on only ten shots of espresso a day."

"Seven actually. I'm not a maniac. And you don't sound fine."

You roll your eyes, feeling too drained to banter with him. "I said I'm fine. Can you spare me the lecture?"

You mean to walk past him when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, startling you. Suddenly, there’s that familiar buzz in your mind — your quirk activating with the skin-to-skin contact. The headache momentarily takes a backseat as his thoughts flood in.

Is she really okay? She looks like she’s about to collapse.

Why does she always push herself so hard?

You look up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.

He yanks his hand away as if he’d been burned, the flood of his thoughts abruptly cut off. His dark eyes flicker with something—surprise? Guilt? He takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to…”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How are you supposed to respond to that? All this time, you thought he was just cold, that he only ever saw your flaws. But just now, he…

He was worried about you?

“I—” you start, but your voice falters. He’s still staring at you, his expression carefully guarded again.

“I’ll see you around. Feel better." His voice is clipped, betraying none of the thoughts you just heard. The words sound so casual, so dismissive, that for a moment you wonder if you imagined it all.

You want to say something to break the tension between you, but you're suddenly nervous. Your heart races, pounding with the weight of this new knowledge. Before you can compose yourself, another hero calls his name, and he mutters a quick response before leaving.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

You promised yourself you were going to avoid him like the plague.

Later that day, when you were tossing and turning in bed, still overthinking your last encounter — you promised. You even came up with (what seemed to you) a solid game plan: You were going to focus on hero work so much that you won’t even have the time to think about him, much less see him.

But the mission had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes.

What was supposed to be a simple recon had turned into a full-on chase through the streets when the criminal you'd been tracking for weeks unexpectedly showed up at the deal you were sent to bust. Orders be damned, you vaulted over the rooftop ledge and ran after them.

You leaped across buildings, adrenaline spurring you on. Your mind was focused, heart pounding in rhythm with your footfalls. You’d chased this villain twice before, and both times, they’d slipped through your fingers. You weren’t about to let that happen again.

The villain was fast, but so were you. With each bound, you closed the gap, watching as they darted into a narrow alleyway below. This was your chance. Your heart surged as you prepared to drop down and cut them off.

Suddenly, a figure descended from the shadows, blocking your target from your sight. Your stomach dropped.

Of course it was him.

"Stay back. This is too dangerous for you to handle alone.” His voice was firm and authoritative. Even with the goggles on, you could feel his dark eyes trained on you with that same stern expression you’d come to dread.

"Dangerous? I've been on this case longer than you have!”

You stepped forward but so did he.

“I said stay back,” he warned you. “Don’t be reckless. He’s already evaded you twice, and now he’s cornered. Desperate villains do desperate things.”

“He’s getting away! You’re ruining my chance to finally catch him!”

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m not going to let a rookie run into a trap.”

Anger flared in your chest. You knew he didn’t respect you, hadn’t from the start. Always criticizing, always watching with that disapproving scowl. You try to push past him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, and maybe even more stubborn.

“Wait here and let me handle it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and commanding. His scarf moved like a serpent around him, a silent warning that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if you pushed any further.

You clenched your fists but did as you were told. Much to your frustration, the villain was apprehended quickly after that. You watched from the rooftop, fuming as Aizawa cornered them with ease, his scarf tangling around the villain's limbs like it was second nature. Within minutes, the situation was over, and backup arrived to escort the criminal away.

You stayed put, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of the chase and the frustration of being sidelined once again. The cool night breeze did little to calm your heated emotions. It wasn’t fair. You’d been so close, only for him to swoop in like you were some rookie who couldn’t handle their own mission.

Now, you watch as he finishes giving his statement to the police and then make his way towards you.

You cross your arms tightly, readying yourself for whatever critique he’d throw your way this time. But when he stops in front of you, he doesn’t say anything right away. He simply takes off his goggles and looks at you.

His silence is almost worse than his usual condescending remarks. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravelly, strained. More measured than you expected.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. "I…I'm fine," you answer, maybe a bit too defensively.

Aizawa's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he’s about to call you out for your tone. But he just stares at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.

You shift on your feet, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and awkward, until he exhales and rubs the back of his neck.

"Good," he mutters, his voice softening just slightly, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of something you can’t quite place. His hand lowers back to his side, and as it brushes yours for the briefest moment, something happens.

Skin contact.

Before you can stop it, his thoughts are bleeding into yours, loud and clear.

I should’ve handled that better. She probably thinks I hate her…

Dammit, I don’t want her to hate me.

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of emotions flood your mind: frustration, concern. Genuine fear.

She doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already good enough. More than good enough.

Heat floods your face, your pulse quickening. He… cares? Before you can process it fully, the connection snaps. A sudden coldness washes over you as your quirk is forcibly erased.

Aizawa’s eyes lock onto yours, his irritation visible in the sharpness of his gaze and the tight line of his mouth.

"I…I didn't mean to," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something like uncertainty flickers in his expression, and his hair falls down in waves as he shuts off his quirk, too. His jaw tightens but his brow furrows as though he’s trying to decide what to say.

“I...know you didn’t,” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

You flinch, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, dropping your gaze to the ground. You didn’t want to invade his mind, but now you couldn’t unhear what you’d discovered.

Just like before, he turns to leave.

“Wait—” you blurt out, reaching for him instinctively. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you can’t just let him leave like this. Not again.

He pauses, half-turning to glance at you over his shoulder. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The words are there, but they feel jumbled in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through your mind.

“I—I didn’t know. About any of it.”

Your eyes search his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression remains impassive. You fight back the urge to touch him.

“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” you admit in a small voice.

Aizawa heaves a sigh. His hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, you notice how tired he looks; exhausted, worn down in a way that makes him seem more human, less the untouchable figure you’ve always seen him as.

“I’m not trying to be hard on you,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now, the anger draining away. “But you don’t always think things through, and that’s dangerous. You’re talented. You don’t need to prove anything to me or anyone else.”

His words surprise you, and you look up, meeting his gaze again. There’s no scowl, no biting critique, just honesty. You swallow hard, feeling an odd mix of warmth and discomfort settle in your chest.

Before you can think better of it, your hand moves instinctively, brushing against his arm. You freeze, realizing what you’ve done, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. And though he has every opportunity to, he doesn’t erase your quirk either.

I’m too close to her. The thought is faint, hesitant. She’s already in my head… and it’s getting harder to push her away.

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s not just frustrated with you — he’s frustrated with himself.

You pull your hand back, not wanting to intrude further.

You don’t know what you expect to see on his face; surprise maybe, or even anger. But for the first time since you’ve met him, you see something warmer in his eyes — something that sends a flutter through your chest.

Aizawa takes a half-step closer and your pulse quickens at the proximity. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost a secret, he murmurs, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”

“I won’t,” you manage to whisper, your heart caught in your throat.

He takes a step back, as if remembering himself, and his usual stern demeanor slips back into place.

“Go home. Get some rest.”

You nod, still too flustered to speak. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he's gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

It’s well past midnight, the city quiet except for the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional sound of wind rustling through the streets. Your patrol route brings you to the edge of a quiet park, where you catch a familiar figure standing in the shadows, keeping watch.

“You really like brooding in the dark, don’t you?" You smile at him from over your shoulder, though your usual sarcasm is gone.

“It's my favorite pastime,” he deadpans, but you don't miss the way his dark eyes hold yours a beat too long.

“Right,” you snicker. “The city’s most stoic hero. I bet you even scowl in your sleep.”

Aizawa’s lips twitch, the tiniest of smirks threatening to break through. “You can’t prove that.”

"Oh?” You smile sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Something tells me I can.”

His gaze sharpens slightly, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to call you out on your teasing. But instead, he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you.

“You’re bold tonight,” he says, his tone somewhere between amused and intrigued. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re actually enjoying my company.”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider. “And what if I am?”

He steps just a fraction closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. His voice is low and smooth when he says, “Then I’d have to wonder what it is you think you’re getting yourself into.”

The air between you thickens, the playful banter now laced with something a little more dangerous, a little more exciting.

“You know, I could buy you a coffee sometime,” you offer, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, keep the conversation light. “To say thanks for helping me out with that last mission.”

He pretends to mull it over but, before you can react, he reaches out and grabs the coffee cup you’re holding. He takes a deliberately long sip, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

When he lowers the cup, he meets your gaze with a half-lidded look that sends your pulse racing.

“Consider it done.”

Your face feels impossibly warm now, and you’re sure your blush is painfully obvious, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you quip, “An indirect kiss? Maybe you’re the one who needs to be careful, or else other people will start getting the wrong idea.”

With a low laugh, he hands the cup back to you, and the subtle brush of his fingers against yours sets off another wave of his thoughts.

I wonder if she realizes how much I want her.

Your breath catches.

For a split second, you think you might’ve misheard it, but the heat in Aizawa’s gaze as he watches your reaction tells you otherwise. The cup is back in your hand, but your fingers are numb. Your focus is entirely on him, his thoughts still rattling around in your mind.

His lips twitch again. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice low, almost a purr. “What’s going on up there? Something I should know about?”

You swallow hard, trying to gather your composure. He’s looking at you like he’s daring you to admit what you heard.

You take a deep breath and decide to play along. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you always flirt this shamelessly.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

Your heart is racing now, fingers trembling around the cup in your hand. His gaze is dark and intense. Unwavering. He's looking at you like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you and he’s enjoying it.

Your quirk had always been a double-edged sword; sometimes it revealed things you wished you hadn’t known, and other times it brought clarity to situations that seemed hopelessly opaque.

This time, it left you with a dilemma.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts. He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him, his presence overwhelming but not uncomfortable. “Since you’re already in my head…why stop now?”

Your breath hitches. His invitation is dangerous, yet impossible to resist. There are a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t — you work together, it’s an invasion of privacy, you hated his guts just a few weeks ago — but the temptation is too strong, his presence too intoxicating.

Hesitantly, your fingers brush against his once more, and his thoughts flood in again, more intense and vivid this time.

She’s braver than I thought. I like that.

I shouldn’t be doing this. But damn, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looks at me…

“Good girl,” he cooes, his voice a low rumble that sends a flutter of excitement through you.

You feel lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of his thoughts, the tension between you at a boiling point. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the way Aizawa’s eyes are fixed on you — dark, intense, hungry — it’s making it hard to think straight. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel what he’s feeling.

And you do.

You feel everything.

His desire is a palpable thing, hanging in the air between you, electric and heady. You can see it in the way his gaze lingers on your lips, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean in.

“Hardly seems fair. I don't get to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” His voice dips lower, enough to send another wave of heat crashing over you. “Are you going to keep me guessing?”

Your voice wavers slightly, but you manage to respond, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in my head.”

He chuckles, a dark, low sound that makes your stomach flip. “You might be surprised.”

You can barely breathe as he brushes the back of his hand against your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly on the corner of your mouth. You feel his thoughts ripple through you again, even stronger this time.

I want her. God, I want her so badly…

Your knees feel weak, and it takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely in the moment, in him. The tension between you feels unbearable now, as if one wrong move could send you both over the edge. And you’re not sure how much longer either of you can hold back.

Aizawa smirks, just a hint of satisfaction flickering in his expression.

I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy.

The thought lingers between you, thick and heavy, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his anymore. All you know is that just the idea of his lips on yours is making your entire body hum with anticipation.

Aizawa watches you carefully, as if waiting for your reaction. He knows you heard him, and he’s not backing down.

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. “Go ahead then,” your own voice sounds small and distant to your ears, but it’s enough to tip the balance.

His lips are on yours in a second.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, but it quickly deepens as the tension that had been building between you finally breaks. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel his thoughts rushing through you again.

God, she tastes even better than I imagined.

Your knees nearly buckle, and you can barely focus on anything except the way his lips feel against yours — firm, warm, demanding yet tender. He’s kissing you like he’s been holding back for far too long.

When you finally pull back for air, your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. Aizawa’s forehead rests gently against yours, his eyes half-closed as he catches his own breath. His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, a small, affectionate gesture that has you smiling up at him in a tizzy.

“Still think I hate you?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of heat as he slides his hands into the curve of your waist.

You laugh softly, pulling him closer by his scarf. “I think I might need a little more convincing.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

The days that follow your little late night tryst at the park are deliciously unbearable.

It’s as if you don’t know how to be around him anymore. There's tension during training sessions. The gym hums with its usual energy, but you can’t focus. Not with him in the room. You’re sparring with someone, half-heartedly dodging and throwing punches, but your mind is elsewhere, replaying the feel of Aizawa’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you.

Across the room, he’s speaking to a group of trainees, the same unreadable, stoic expression in place. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes when they briefly meet yours, a look only you recognize.

Your opponent lands a hit on your shoulder and you nearly stumble. You grit your teeth and bring yourself back to the present moment. When the sparring session ends, you grab a bottle of water and try to catch your breath.

He walks over to where you’re sitting off to the side, seemingly doing the same. His voice is low enough so only you can hear. "You're distracted."

You flush, struggling to keep your expression impassive. “And what if I am?”

“Focus, or I’ll have to give you some private training later.”

His words are a promise, dripping with intent, and your blood sings. You can’t find a response quick enough before he’s already pulling away, leaving you flushed and even more distracted.

It’s not much better during night patrol, when the city streets are dimly lit and mostly empty. Although the two of you are supposed to be overseeing different sectors, you know when you turn a corner into a dark alley that he's following silently, closely behind.

You walk deeper into the alley, pretending to scan the area, but the quiet crunch of his footsteps has your heart racing. Just as you’re about to turn back, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the shadows, away from prying eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already on you, crashing his lips against yours.

“You’re making—it hard—for me—to concentrate,” he murmurs between kisses, each word punctuated by the soft graze of his mouth against yours. His hands press against your hips, pinning you gently yet firmly to the wall, and a wave of heat spreads through you.

Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind: him trailing his mouth downwards until he’s on his knees, hooking your leg over his shoulder and eating you out. A thought that isn’t your own.

“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, though there’s no real bite to it. If anything, your voice is barely steady. “You’re supposed to be patrolling your own area.”

He runs his fingers along your jaw. "And let you wander into dark alleys alone?" He leans in, lips brush against your ear, nibbling. "Not a chance."

He crooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth and lips lingering just enough to make you gasp.

I want to taste you. All of you, he thinks. I want you to make a mess on my face, on my fingers, and then lick it clean.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. He presses you harder against the wall, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating—

Until the sharp crackle of comms cuts through the haze.

“Report. Any activity?”

You both freeze, breaths mingling, still pressed close. His eyes flick to yours, and there’s a hint of amusement dancing in them.

“Nothing to report,” he says, voice calm and collected as if he hadn’t just been kissing you senseless a moment ago.

You look up at him, dazed and wanting, heart pounding. He tilts his head at you and you realize they’re expecting a response from you, too.

“N-no activity here either,” you manage despite the tightness of your throat.

The comms fall silent once more. Aizawa is looking at you through half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. You hate him as much as you really don't.

“We should get back to our routes before someone decides to check on us," he murmurs.

“Oh, so now you’re concerned about protocol?” You arch an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure your flushed cheeks betray any semblance of teasing bravado.

"For now." He leans down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just break a few more rules.”

A few days later, you find yourselves seated across from each other during a mission debriefing. The room is full of other pro heroes, but it might as well be empty for all the attention you’re paying to anyone else.

Your thoughts scramble every time Aizawa's knee brushes against yours beneath the table. He, on ther hand, is the picture of composure, listening to the debrief with his usual detached focus.

This meeting’s dragging. I can think of better ways to pass the time with you.

You try to focus on the mission details, but half way through, he moves his hand atop your thigh and you shiver.

How long do you think it’d take if we just slipped out, right now?

You steal a glance at him, and there’s the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes when they meet yours.

You force yourself to look down at your notes, but your mind is elsewhere, his presence impossibly distracting. Fuck it, you think before you slide your foot up his calf.

He sputters a cough, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. Under the table, his hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm, almost possessive, and the thrill of it has you biting the inside of your cheek.

Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens after this.

As the meeting draws to a close, everyone rises to leave, and Shota gives you a barely perceptible nod toward the hallway. You follow at a careful distance until you reach his office, entering a good few minutes after he does so as not to arouse suspicion.

He backs you gently against the door as he locks it behind you, his gaze pinning you in place. His eyes are dark and stormy, with that half-focused look you’ve come to love so much. When he speaks, his voice is soft, a murmur meant only for you. “You’re going to get us caught, you know that?”

You smile up at him sweetly then tip-toe to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "You’re the one who can’t seem to keep things professional,” you coo, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, teasing.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Is that so? Funny, I don’t remember you objecting."

“Of course not,” you confess breathlessly, head thrown back in pleasure as you tug at his hair. You can’t make out the sound of your own voice over the blood thumping in your ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined us doing inappropriate things in your office?”

Your words seem to snap the last of his restraint.

A low growl escapes him, and before you know it, he’s gripping your hips and lifting you just enough to press the hardness of his length against you. You gasp. His mouth finds yours with a raw, pent-up hunger that has you clinging to his shoulders, heart racing wildly.

“And here I was, thinking I was the only one losing sleep over this,” he murmurs between kisses, tugging your bottom lip gently between his teeth.

He pulls you flush against him as his tongue explores your mouth, and you trail your hands down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen just as eagerly. You grind your hips down on his erection and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his warm, rough hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” His tone is half-warning, half-promise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your hands.

"I know somewhere we wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted," you tell him breathlessly. “My place. Tonight. If you’re up for it.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I'll clear my schedule.”

[zorrasucia]

“okay, slow down, you’d never done this until 5 minutes ago” with virgin carmy 🧎🏼‍♀️

Hello, Anon! 💜

Of course! This takes place in his Copenhagen era. Thank you for allowing me to continue my ongoing campaign for Virgin!Carmy 😌 I hope you like it!

"I didn't expect you to cook," you said, watching Carmy plate pasta with ease, a healthy serving of parmesan cheese on top. "Thought you'd be sick of it at the end of the day. It smells delicious, by the way."

"Thanks," he smiled shyly as he sat in front of you, the boat swaying a little. "Wanted to make you something from home."

You didn't know what to expect when Terry arranged for you to meet up with her new golden boy, Carmy, but this was feeling more and more like a blind date. Weirdly enough, you didn't mind her meddling this time.

"Where's home?" you asked.

"Chicago. You?"

"I don't even know where my home is anymore. Before Copenhagen, I was in London for a long while. And I haven't been to visit Aunt Terry in months..."

Carmy arched an eyebrow but didn't ask.

"She's my godmother, Chef Terry, not my actual aunt. I don't usually tell people about it, don't want to make her look bad," you shrugged, something about Carmy made it so easy to open up. "For whatever it's worth, I tried to stay away from cooking and baking and everything, I really did. I just couldn't."

"I get it. Why desserts though?" he asked.

"There's something freeing about them," you bit your lip, trying to put it into words. "You know how they're described, right? It's always decadent, confection, guilty pleasure - things like that. You can be creative."

When you looked up, Carmy was smiling - he looked younger and softer.

"I like that. Sounds nice."

"It is," you smiled back and took a forkful of spaghetti. It was delicious. "Oh, this is incredible," you hummed.

Carmy beamed.

While you dried the dishes, you caught a glimpse of one of Carmy's drawings.

"You make these?"

He looked up from the sink and flushed. "Helps me remember details," he explained shyly, avoiding your gaze.

You learned he had notebooks full of vegetables and dishes, diagrams for plating and cooking. You were surprised to find one of the pastries you had been working on perfecting there too, notes scribbled on the side. Your fingernails traced the lines carefully.

"You can have it," he offered.

"Really?"

He had an adoring, boyish look on his face and you melted inside.

"Yeah," he said, tearing out the page and giving it to you.

"Thanks," you said and without thinking, leaned in to kiss him.

It was quick, a gentle peck. As soon as you parted, you realized you wanted more - you both did.

"Can you- Would you do that again?" Carmy asked.

You tilted your head, moving slowly, relishing the moment right before the kiss, the way his lips parted slightly in anticipation. When you pressed your lips to his again, you took your time, let him cup your face and caress your waist as your tongue touched his lower lip.

When you parted, he looked relieved - that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"I didn't think we would do anything like this tonight," you said, your voice breathy from the kisses Carmy was leaving on your neck and collarbone.

You had spent the last half hour making out on his bed, slowly losing layers of clothing. Your blouse and trousers were on the floor, along with his jeans and t-shirt. His right hand was on your breast, caressing your nipple through the fabric of your sports bra, your right hand was palming his cock through his boxers.

"Neither did I," he exhaled into your skin, his thumb hooking on the elastic of your panties. "It's good though?"

He looked up at you for confirmation.

"I- uh-" you hesitated.

"Shit," Carmy froze, starting to withdraw from you.

"No, wait, Carmy," you grabbed his wrist before he could get away. "It's great. You're great. It's just, I've been busy so I didn't- It's a little hairy down there is what I'm trying to say," you said awkwardly, your fingers intertwined with his on your hip, trying to convey your meaning.

Carmy tilted his head, confused. "Okay... Something wrong?"

"I don't know if you're, uh, used to girls that shave it all or- I don't know. Men can be assholes about body hair," you said, a little defensively.

"I'm not used to anything," Carmy said, chuckling nervously. "I like what you look like."

"Oh," you smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

You nodded, getting rid of your bra, while he tugged down your underwear.

Carmy got close, his right hand moving to cup your pussy, carding his fingers through the hair, caressing. It made you hum.

"Want to taste you," he whispered.

"Yes," you squeezed his bicep, encouraging him.

"Just- Shit. I think I might be bad at it," he said, his eyes suddenly looked vulnerable.

"Evil ex told you that?" you asked gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "I've never done it," he confessed. "Don't want to fuck it up with you."

"Carmy," you touched his chest, tracing soothing patterns, calming him. "You said you wanted a taste, right?" he nodded. "There's no way you can fuck that up. If you make me feel good, that's great but I don't need it to be perfect, okay?"

He kissed you, slow and soft - thank you. Then, deep and full of lust - I want you.

He made his way down your body, licking and nipping at skin, stopping between your legs. You opened them wider for him to settle. He took a good look at you, fingers touching your outer lips with care.

"Beautiful," he exhaled and it tickled you in the most delicious way. You shivered.

He started giving you long, vertical licks, tracing the contour of your folds, almost like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. You moaned low. It was good. There was no rhythm to it but was making you wet and restless.

"Mhmm," you encouraged him, carding your fingers through his curls.

Tracing the lines of you and listening to your breathing, he found your clit. After a couple of his licks were followed by sharp inhales he decided to stay there, kissing and licking, becoming frantic, quickly addicted to the sound of your pleasure.

"Oh! Fuck. Okay, slow down, you’d never done this until five minutes ago," you pulled on his hair, trying to keep his tongue from completely undoing you.

"Shit. That bad?" Carmy asked, sitting up.

"Too fast," you tried to catch your breath. "Too fast."

"Fuck, sorry," he soothed the skin of your thighs and your hips.

"It's- You found the spot. That's good. Just- take your time with it," you explained. "Let me savor it."

He chuckled, your play on words reminding him that he had tasted you and then some.

"Okay," he kissed the valley between your thigh and your hip, soft and sensual, like he was trying it out.

You smiled fondly, watching him slowly kiss his way back to your pussy, open-mouthed, gentle. A needy sound caught in the back of your throat when he finally got close to where you wanted him.

Carmy's eyes widened.

"Oh. Got it," he mumbled, realizing that half the fun was making you wait for it.

He tortured you, carefully finding every place that gave you pleasure. Then, he built up a rhythm that had you writhing on the sheets, fighting the grip he had on your hips, trying to fuck his face, and he paused.

"I've made a monster," you complained, panting and caressing his face - shiny with his sweat and your arousal.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Can't believe you're letting me do this."

You exhaled and giggled giddily. "Can't believe you're enjoying this so much."

"Mhmm," Carmy nuzzled the inside of your thigh, his roman nose tracing zigzags while you caught your breath.

When he started again, he was a little rougher - sucking harder than he had dared so far, hoisting your legs above his shoulders. You moaned low and squeezed your breast, looking for something to keep you grounded. Carmy caught your movements and rushed to replace your hand with his, humming in approval as you intertwined your fingers. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He stopped for a second.

"Eyes on me," he growled.

And he kept on devouring you.

You struggled to keep eye contact with how vehemently he was sucking on your pussy, lewd noises coming from his mouth. He was making you gasp for breath and grab desperately at the bedsheets underneath.

You were vaguely aware of the mattress shaking - was Carmy grinding into it? You didn't check or ask any further questions - he was humming in delight against your pussy, lips closed around your clit and eyes fixed on you. He arched his eyebrows. Now? You nodded eagerly.

"Please, Carmy," you keened.

He kept sucking on you, his grip on your breast and thigh getting forceful enough to bruise as you reached your high. You came with a needy sound, something between a whine and an exhale, legs shaking and hips grinding towards his face.

You regained your bearings just in time to see Carmy humping the mattress desperately, drowning gravelly moans into your thigh as he came too.

"Fuck," you sighed, your fingers soothing Carmy's scalp, probably sore from you pulling on it hard all that time. "Oh, my God. Carmy..."

"Sorry. Shit, sorry," he panted, his sticky cheek resting on your hip.

"Are you seriously apologizing for making me cum?" you giggled.

"I couldn't hold it back any longer," he explained.

You didn't tell him how hot it was to see him like that, completely lost in wanting you, cumming in his boxers because he liked eating you out that much. He wouldn't believe it.

So instead you said: "Guess that means we'll have to see each other again. So I can repay the favor."

[leviraaaaaa]

Takes place in s2 after the scouts rescue Eren.

Blood had dried over your face. It dried over your lashes, making it hard to blink. The pain had numbed long ago, the cuts and slashes didn't hurt as much. At least, not as bad as how your heart ached.

You should have been in the med-bay. In your dorm perhaps. In the bathroom showering up, you think. But instead you found yourself slumped against Levi's door. You weren't even sure why. But out of all the places, this was what the first place you could think of. You needed to run. To hide. But there were people everywhere. And everyone was covered in blood and everyone was crying and everyone was staring. And everyone kept asking you questions and they all looked half-dead and goddamnit, you couldn't take it anymore.

You ended up here, for some reason. Instinctively, you had seeked him out. Well-aware he wouldn't be here but nevertheless.

It was the only side of the building that wasn't swarming with people anyways.

But you think you needed something to ground yourself. Needed his familiar gray eyes to glare at you. Some sense of sanity, clarity, safety.

You wished he was here, you thought.

So that he could scold you. Yell at you to get your ass up and get cleaned because you're filthy and you're bleeding all over his carpet.

Maybe that's what you need.

Maybe his sharp tongue would finally snap you out of this nightmare.

"What..are you doing here?"

You jolted. Your stiff, blood-crusted lashes barely fluttered as you blinked up.

He was there, standing in front of you, eyes widened just a fraction, confused and surprised.

You sighed.

You take it back, you don't really want to see him right now.

"..Levi." You muttered, not bothering to get up. Or even move. Your body give itself up a little more, leaning the rest of it's weight on the door. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Where am I supposed to be?" He asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"I don't know?" You shrugged. "By Erwin's sick bed?"

"I hate hospitals."

Your mouth twiched. Of course he did. "Will Erwin be okay?"

"He'll live,” He sighs. "His arm won't though.”

You looked away.

“Was it bad?” He asked, carefully watching you with narrowed eyes. You knew exactly what he meant.

“What do you think, genius?”

Levi stared, unease in his posture. He looked uncertain. He'd known the answer, the moment the first horse came in. There were too much blood, too many injured. He knew the answer when he'd saw Erwin, his uniform bloodied and mangled. Hange looked terribly exhausted and the brats looked banged up as well. It doesn't take much for one to add two and two and understand what it'd been like.

Then he'd looked for you. Wildly. He was looking at every horse that passed through, observing every hooded face. Then he paused by the medical room, glancing over every person, but no, no you. There was no you. So he could successfully rule out that you were heavily injured as well.

So when he'd went out to search for you, this was not the place he'd thought he'd find you.

This was, also, definitely not the state he'd thought he'd find you in.

Slouched down in a pool of blood and filth, you were curled up so close, as if trying to make yourself smaller, to make you disappear. He felt a sense of relief when he noticed you weren't too injured. At least, not physically.

There was something wrong though. The more he looked at you, the more frail you appeared. There was something in the way you looked, so tired, so terribly exhausted. The eyes of someone lost. Someone who had just survived hell. Someone who didn't know where else to go. From all the years he'd known you, he'd never seen you this fazed.

He felt a sudden feeling of helplessness. He didn't know how to help you. But he swallowed it down and spoke anyway.

"Are you.. alright?"

You glanced up. He was looking at you, actually looking at you, with worry.

You thought about it for a second

"...no." You swallowed.

He inhaled, nodding, like he wasn't expecting any different answer. His eyes glanced over you.

"You're covered in blood."

"Don't worry, most of it isn't mine."

"I can see you're bleeding." He said. "Why are you not in the med wing?"

"...I needed space." You mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest. But he was giving you that look, that look that made you feel as though he could see right through your soul. It always made you feel so exposed. So small. You wish you didn't look so vulnerable as you must do. "..that's why I came here. Didn't think you'd be around."

"You're bleeding out on my office carpet.”

That made you grin, "I know. " You said. "I'm sorry. I'll move in a bit.”

"Are you hiding?" He asked, his voice low. God, he knew you too well. Always the escapist, always running away when it got too much. And he’d always dragged you right back.

"Maybe." You admitted.

There was a pause, thick and heavy. You couldn't hold his gaze anymore. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes, you wished he’d leave, wished he couldn’t see how close you were to breaking.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You couldn't.

"Stop."

You blinked at him, it came out breathless. "What?"

"Don't.” He repeated. “I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything—"

"No. You're shutting yourself out."

"What's that even supposed to–"

"And you're angry at me. You're looking at me like you're angry at me. I can tell. " He said, frowning as the realization came across him. Confused. "Why are you angry at me?"

You didn't know what to say. You stared at him as his gray eyes searched your face for an answer. An answer you didn't know yourself. The more he looked at you and the more you looked at him, the more you felt the strange lack of air in your chest rise.

What do you tell him? You could always lie. Tell him it's nothing. He's seeing things. You couldn't think. But no matter what you made up, he'd see through you anyways.

You did feel angry.

Were you angry at him? You thought. Not really. Anger was the last emotion you felt. Not towards him.

Did a part of you blame Levi for this whole shit? Yes, you did. As unreasonable as it was, you did. You hated that Levi wasn't there. You hated that you had to face this alone, how vulnerable you'd felt without him. And you hated that, maybe if he was there, so many less people might've died. It might've been so much easier.

You might cry.

You weren't angry.

But you were scared. You were terrified. You were traumatized. You couldn't breathe. And you wished he'd stop looking at you like that for fucks sake.

"I'm not angry at you. Why would I be angry at you?" You mumbled, the bitterness in your voice so obvious.

"That's what I'm asking."

"Well, I'm not. Your people reading skills are questionable."

"People reading skills? Yes, perhaps." He agreed quietly, looking down at you. "You though? I've known you way too long. So why the fuck are you angry?"

"Because you weren't there, you dumbfuck!" You yelled, the words rushing out before you could even have a chance to stop them. There were angry tears running down your cheek and you pressed your blood covered hands to your mouth to stop yourself from letting the choked sob come out. He was right. You were angry. Not angry at him, but you felt rage, and you had to let it out.

"Couldn't have found a better time to get your stupid injury, could you?" Your voice cracked. "You just had to not be there the only time I needed you!" He looked so hurt, you realized. His brows furrowed together as he watches you, listening quietly as you threw words at him you didn't even mean. Cruel, cruel, cruel. He looked so hurt. And confused. He didn't deserve this. You needed to stop.

Everything you went through today, every bit of fear you'd experienced, everytime you'd felt helpless, everytime you'd wished he was there only to find he wasn't, every gruesome, bloody memory was tangling up in your chest, demanding to get out. It burned you down. If you didn't let it out, you'd turn into ashes here.

"What's the point," You bit the words out, "What's the point of being so fucking strong? Of being humanity's fucking strongest or whatever? Tell me what the bloody point if you can't even be there when we need you?"

"I'm so fucking mad at you," You whispered angrily. "So fucking mad." You were gasping between the words. You needed to stop. You needed to breathe. "I could punch you." You rasped. "I can't even look at you, I can't even—"

You didn't get to finish what you were going to say, because then Levi was down on his knees in an instant, pulling you into him. You struggled, your instincts still jumpy from the last hour, pushing against him and trying to peer away. But he was stronger than he ever was and he held you close, pressing your head to his shoulder.

Your breath hitched, your words coming to a stop as a choke came out. You could feel his heartbeat. It was slow, calming down your own. Breathe.

You weren't angry anymore.

Suddenly, all the rage left your body, the adrenaline rush had died down and you melted right into him. Now all you felt was sadness. Unbearable sadness. There was a void in your heart, empty and cold, and it kept reminding you of everything that had happened today.

"I thought—" you whispered, "I thought we were gonna die.” Your voice cracked as the quiet confession left you. The words were stumbling out of you, a desperate attempt to make him understand. He had to understand. “I was so, so scared, Levi." Your fingers dig into his shirt and you were almost gasping. "And then—and then fucking Erwin almost died and—and everything started going dipshit and I—I thought we were all gonna die and that's the end of it. And I was—I was—"

"Breathe," He whispered in your ear, reminding you. So uncharacteristically gentle. "Breathe. It's over. You're not there anymore.

It was the softness in his voice you think. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly why you were here and how he got you here. There was all the patience in the world when he spoke, all the kindness. It finally broke you. You tried to inhale but there was a tight knot in your throat and it constricted with every tight inhale, as if your lungs were squeezing themselves. Breathe, he said. You had to breathe.

But it was so hard to. Instinctively, you latched onto him, clinging to him desperately as your lungs fought for air. You were drowning and he was the last solid thing. If he let you go now you would fall. You would cease. You would break. You buried your face in his chest. Warmth. He was so warm. Always so warm. And it was so cold there, you thought you might never feel this again.

He felt so very much like home.

"You weren't there." You whispered accusingly. You hated him. "You weren't there, Levi."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You weren't there and I was scared that I was gonna die alone. I hate that you weren't there, I wish you were there because–"

"I know." He repeated. "Hush. You're okay. You're breathing. And you're filthy as fuck but you're alive."

That made you snort. You let out half a sob. "I got blood over you."

He didn't say anything, only pulled you closer in response.

"You're strong." He muttered softly as you let yourself melt into him. There was no more strength left in you. You could only focus on his voice and nothing else. "And brave. And Smart as fuck. I knew you'd be okay. That you'd come back. I always believed in you."

You soaked in his affirmations, the words soothing you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he did the same, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back.

"..I was so scared." You repeated again, closing your eyes. A soft shiver ran through you. "I was scared that I'd never get to see you again. And I never even got to say a proper goodbye."

"Mhm." He hummed softly. "But you're here now. That's what matters. I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I'm here now."

He was holding you so gently. Like you were made of glass. Delicate. Fragile. It's impossible to think that a cold man like him was even capable of such gentleness. You clung to him, wondering how could someone still be so kind after the words you had thrown towards him.

"I wasn't really mad at you," you mumbled after a while, your breathing still uneven.

"I know."

"I didn't mean what I said."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Of course he did. He always did.

[waldau-archived]

ruminations — jeon wonwoo | 1,289 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: alcohol.

you're about to get up from the sofa and go to the bathroom to carry out your nighttime routine when the doorbell rings. that's odd; you're not expecting anyone at the moment.

but when you open the door, you see your tall boyfriend standing in front of you, being held up by his best friend, mingyu. literally being held up in the sense that mingyu has an arm around his waist and his other hand on wonwoo's back. wonwoo looks like he's putting zero effort into standing. his eyes widen when he looks at you, but he says nothing.

right. your boyfriend had gone for a party with the rest of his bandmates, and you'd asked him if he wanted to spend the night at your place afterwards, but you didn't expect him to be here almost an hour before the party ended.

you open your mouth, a couple of questions on your tongue, but mingyu shakes his head. "don't make him cry."

you're bemused by what he's said. "why...would i do that?"

"not that you'd— he's very wound up today. he just looks like he's going to cry at any moment."

you look at wonwoo. he's looking at you very seriously, like his actions are going to depend on what you're going to say next.

"hi, baby," you say carefully. wonwoo moves out of mingyu's grasp and into yours.

you're hardly as strong as mingyu, and you admit it takes quite some effort to make sure wonwoo doesn't fall. "just how much did he have?" you ask mingyu. wonwoo's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining.

"not much at first, but then he lost a bet to hoshi, and..."

you tut. wonwoo is never really into playing drinking games. "you didn't stop him?"

"i would have, if we had been on the same team. it was funny watching him tug joshua's hair again and again."

you chuckle. "you're evil, you know that?"

mingyu's about to say something when wonwoo mumbles. "what's that?" you ask him.

"tired."

"of course you are. mingyu, thank you so much for—"

"hey, no problem. i know he'd do the same for me."

"get a girl first," wonwoo says, looking at his friend. you let out a surprised laugh while mingyu stands there with his mouth open.

"that's how you show your thanks to me?"

you push wonwoo inside, bidding mingyu goodnight before he shuts the door. "i think you need to sleep before the alcohol really hits you," you say. wonwoo hasn't let go of your hand even now.

you decide to take him into the kitchen to make him sit for a while and see if he needs some water, but he stands resolutely when you try to tug him forward.

"what is it?" you ask gently.

he blinks at you. "you look really good."

your words catch in your throat. it's not very often that wonwoo's verbal with his affection. "aw. thank you, wonwoo," you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

he shakes his head. "i mean it. did you know you look really pretty tonight?"

"now i do. thank you, baby. do you want some water?"

he shakes his head again, and doesn't budge when you try to get him into the kitchen.

"something on your mind?"

wonwoo simply takes his hand out of yours and holds your face with both his hands, tilting your head up so you face him. he looks tired, like he said, but his brown eyes are sparkling under his glasses. you can't tell if it's from the light, or—

"do you believe in reincarnation?"

"huh?"

"do you...believe in reincarnation?"

you rest your hands on wonwoo's, taking them off your face so you can talk easier, but you don't let go. "where did that come from?"

"i asked you first."

you sigh. "well...no."

wonwoo's lips part, and you realize those sparkles in his eyes are unshed tears which are now collecting along his waterline. "oh," he says in a small voice.

you're beyond confused. what the hell happened for mingyu to warn you not to make him cry? "wonwoo?" when he doesn't respond, you sink down to the ground and pull him, so he's sitting cross-legged in front of you. you're still holding onto his hands like they're a lifeline. "what made you ask me that?"

he shrugs and huffs. so you've hit some sore spot you didn't even know existed. "i'm taking off your glasses, okay?" he says nothing when you reach forward to slide them off his face and hook them to the collar of your shirt. then you push his hair back from his face.

"stop," he mumbles, but he doesn't make any effort to push you away.

"what? sorry, am i annoying you? do you want to go to bed?"

"no. this. being...cute."

"i'm just taking care of you? i haven't even done anything yet."

wonwoo sighs and takes one of your hands again, tracing it with his thumb.

you stand up, hoping he'll keep holding your hand so you can pull him to his feet. instead, he remains put in his place and that makes you fall into his lap.

"wonwoo?"

"minghao said something about...if he could become a mosquito, he'd trouble jun in every life. and i wondered if...you know."

you wait for him to gather his words, even though you think you know where this is headed.

"if you'd be with me in every life, too. but now..."

oh. "won—"

"it's okay. i'll...manage."

you can't help but giggle. he looks at you like you've offended him. "you're acting like i made my choice," you explain.

"didn't you?"

you trace the bridge of his nose. he closes his eyes. "wonwoo," you say slowly. you need to think it through, not hurt him. it's not like you've been dating very long; a year is just enough time for you to be serious about your relationship, but the fact that he's been thinking about being together in all your other lives too...

"hm."

"do you really see us together in every life?"

"you don't."

"i never said that."

"but you just said that you don't believe in—"

"i don't, but if i could always be with you...then i don't mind."

it's magical, seeing the hurt in his eyes vanish and be replaced by almost childlike wonder. "you'd...always be with me?"

"if i could trouble you forever, yes."

he laughs. he looks really good, you realize, sitting in your apartment, his hair hair all askew and his hands locked around your waist. the fact that he came back to you, to your place, and took up your offer instead of being hungover all by himself makes your heart warm.

"did i ever tell you?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"probably not?"

"i love you."

it's not often that you say this particular phrase to each other, because you're both better at actions than words, but you think this is a good time to say them.

wonwoo smiles dopily at you, and you can almost picture your future with him if you close your eyes. the thought makes you tingly inside, and even though he probably won't remember everything he's said tonight, you can't help but feel like your heart is beating loud enough for him to hear.

wonwoo pulls you closer, and you're filled with the sudden urge to press yourself as close to him as possible so this moment never passes. "i have another question."

"ask me after you change into something more comfortable than your jeans?"

"it won't take long." he tilts your chin down and you're so, so gone. "would you still love me if i was a worm?"

"...hoshi's so dead."

[corvidcrossbow]

Obviously today is mother's day ‘n now I'm just thinking about how Daryl would be on it because I am down bad and imagine too much of my life with this man 😔🙏 (Can you blame me?)

He'd check the calendar and the community one so many times to make sure he had the day right, since obviously that kinda got screwed up with the apocalypse and y'all had to kinda reinvent it, and still it's really easy to get off track.

But he was sure today was the day, and carefully crept out of bed earlier in the morning to surprise you. He picks flowers from the community, maybe slipping from the walls for just a moment to find one he's missing, then carefully arranges them in a vase he'd picked out on a run once.

He quietly goes to wake up your daughter, and together they prepare a luxury arrangement of pancakes/waffles/french toast (whatever be your favorite), and a bar of toppings ready to be added like fresh fruits, homemade honey and maple syrup, freshly whipped cream, and so on.

When you'd come down the steps, rubbing sleep from your eyes, he'd quickly come over to wrap you in his arms and kiss you. “G'mornin’ sunshine. Happy momma's day,”

He'd lead you over to the table where the vase and breakfast bar sit, your daughter presenting a card she'd made for you. And that was just the beginning of it. Daryl secretly worked with her to create all sorts of little crafts and gifts for you.

Later, he'd take you both out to a quiet lake, somewhere he was sure was clear where no walkers or anything would come and disturb you. He'd sit behind you in the warm and soothing sun, keeping hands on you and massaging you, peppering kisses to your shoulders and the nape of your neck, whispering endless praises in your ears as you watch your daughter collect little blossoms and such not far from you, playing with Dog.

“Look at her… you gave me that. Thank you Dar…” You say quietly in wonder and gratitude.

“Ya gave me tha’. Thank you. Ya deserve everythin’. Best damn momma in tha world.” Another kiss to the soft spot behind your ear.

And later, he'd cook you dinner – some fancy cut of venison he'd only ever make for you, then having a campfire in the backyard, the three of you stargazing till your daughter soon falls asleep in your laps. He'd carry her up to bed, and you'd split glasses of wine in the kitchen.

And with the kid asleep, his hands find purchase on your waist, smoothing over your clothed frame as you'd exchange flirty comments. He was so drunk on love for you, mouth sucking lightly at your jawline and neck, trailing down, eager to continue on the skin of your chest.

It wasn't long before you were stumbling to your bedroom, Daryl's hands caressing every single inch of your body, never able to get enough of you.

His head would stay buried between your thighs for as long as you'd want it – no matter how fatigued his tongue got, how sore his jaw became, he didn't even notice it as his focus stayed locked on listening to your every moan, watching you writhe and buck up to his touch.

He'd thank you in every single way imaginable for being a mother. The mother of his child. For everything you do for him, everything you do for your daughter, and everything you do in general, reminding you just how perfect you are. and maybe making you a mother twice over.

And the best part of it all; it didn't need to be mother's day for Daryl to do this. He'd do this any day, ever, no matter the occasion. He does most of these on a regular basis anyway. That man was never religious till he met you and you became the Goddess to which he will kiss the ground in every spot you step, bend to your every will and command and do anything for you, worship you till his dying breath.

[short-honey-badger]

Just wondering how you think the Dilfs of one piece (Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy, Crocodile, etc) would react to thier s/o being extremely dense? Like in a "I love you but your an idiot" kinda way.

This was fun, so I really hope I did your ask justice! ❤️❤️

Pairings! Mihawk x reader, Shanks x reader, Buggy x reader, Crocodile x reader, Doflamingo x Reader, Marco x reader, and Smoker x reader

MIHAWK is a little annoyed at first when he finds that you've completely reorganized his bookshelf by how much you like the covers. He sighs in exasperation, but you look so happy with how the bookshelf now looks that he can't find it in himself to be too upset.

“Oh, to understand the inner workings of your mind, my Darling.”

SHANKS is always excited to wake up and see what you're going to surprise him with next. You enjoy the simple things in life, so it always overjoys him when you appear by his side with a megawatt smile and a pretty shell or sand dollar.

“Whatcha got there, baby? Gonna add it to the others you're got?”

You're a clumsy fuck and BUGGY sometimes wonders why he puts up with you. Especially when you come stumbling into the tent on Big Top, trip over the only rope in the floor, catch yourself on his pants and then down you go. Buggy curses loudly when his crew catches sight of his heart print boxers.

“You better be glad that I fucking love you, little clown.”

It's more than once that the devil fruit user has to pull you away from the banana gators in the feeding area under the casino. It pisses him off that you keep putting yourself in danger, but you always grin and hold tight to CROCODILE, telling him that you always know that he'll save you every time.

“I'm no hero, sweetheart. Quiet trying my patience.”

DOFLAMINGO loves that you are ignorant of who he really is. He is your white knight. The prince comes to save the princess locked away in her lonely tower. You hold him close after a long day, his head pressed to your chest.

“Mhmm. Such a sweet doll. And all mine, too.”

You sit in MARCO'S office, a cute frown on your face as you watch your lover unravel some gauze and then carefully wrap it around the cleaned cut on your leg. The wound is recent, from defending the Moby Dick from rival pirates, an unnecessary risk. He sighs once he is finished and kisses right above the wrap.

“I wish you'd be more careful, my love.”

SMOKER definitely disagrees with your decision to become a pirate. He thought it a dumb ass decision, but he loved you and had vowed to support you in every way he could. However, he has to draw the line when you show up on his ship and demand that he make your bounty higher.

“What? No, I don't need someone I can't fight off coming for you!”

[seospicybin]

FOLDER 103.

sleep_well.mp4

Bangchan x reader. (S)

A chapter of Folder 103

Synopsis: Chan figures that it's his lucky day when he finds you sleeping naked. (3,6k words)

Author's note: Just something to keep you horny hehe I know you'll enjoy this one x

For Chan, every day is a lucky day with you.

With tons of work always keeping him busy, it's not easy for him to finally have time to spend with you. So tonight, as he's finally able to leave work earlier than he usually does, Chan knows that it's his lucky day.

Even though he knows there'll be no guarantee you'd still be awake when he gets to your place, he considers himself lucky still.

The two of you were still texting an hour ago but with his two last messages left unread only means that you're most likely to have fallen asleep.

Chan lets himself in, tiptoeing his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water before going to the bedroom and finding that you're indeed asleep.

"Baby, I'm home," he lowly whispers and allows himself to place a quick kiss on your head.

He then heads to the bathroom to wash up and change his clothes, then slips into the sleeping attire of a boxer and bare upper body.

He makes sure to keep quiet in everything he does, not wanting to wake you from your slumber knowing that you've just had a tiring day at work. He doesn't know for sure but that's what he feels after getting off work just now.

Somehow, all of exhaustion and weariness seem to magically disappear when he sees your face and it truly feels like he's coming home.

Chan quietly climbs onto the bed and going to slip under the cover with you when he realizes that you're naked underneath.

The two of you have talked about this and it's something you both agreed on before. Going to bed naked is a sign that you consented to engage in sexual activity, sleeping or not.

In other words: it really is Chan's lucky day.

Does this surprise him? No, because it's not the first time that you've done this but it surprises him still. Why? Because here you are, sleeping with your body bare naked and fully entrusting yourself to him in your most vulnerable state.

It's the way you trust him that makes Chan feel loved in a whole different way and that earned you a special place in his heart that no one ever comes close to.

And for that, Chan places a long, lingering kiss on your forehead until his heart bursts with how much emotion he puts into it.

Chan proceeds to go under the cover and lay next to you, carefully resting his hand on your waist. He uses the opportunity to look at your face as long as he pleases, so still and peaceful, unaware of how beautiful you look as you are lost in your dream.

"My baby," he sighs as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"My beautiful, beautiful baby," he emphasizes every word with such love, along with a sweet peck on your lips.

He lets his hand wander as he keeps whispering sweet praises to you. His hand wades your silky skin and makes ripples in your insides.

"So soft, baby," he murmurs with his mouth pressed against the column of your neck.

"How are you so fucking soft all over, mmh?" He asks in disbelief and a sharp intake of breath.

Feeling you is not enough, he wants to see his hand on you. Chan pulls the cover away, exposing your naked body to the chill night air and raising the goosebumps on your skin. He notices and hurriedly rubs his hand down your arms.

"I'll keep you warm, mmh," he mutters with another peck on your lips.

Before he forgets, he takes his phone and starts recording, the camera follows his hand as he explores your miles and miles of soft skin.

He begins from your lips, gliding his thumb over your lower lip. He can't wrap his head around the fact that he can kiss these lips as much as he wants.

He glides his hand down to your neck and carefully wraps his hand around it, he likes how it looks like it belongs there. But that's something he can do another time.

Only using his fingertips, Chan drags them down your chest and rubs over your nipple, watching it harden as he keeps circling on it.

His eyes flick to see your face as you draw a sharp breath and your hand flies to the side of the pillow, still soundly asleep.

A part of him wants to wake you up, wanting to see how you react to his touches and oh, he just wants to hear the noises you make whenever he touches you right.

Another part of him is enjoying this too much but if he wants to continue this, he's aware that he shouldn't disturb your sleep.

He lets out a delightful sigh as he takes in the sight of your heavenly body that he never gets tired of seeing, of touching, of feeling, a body that reminds him that he is the luckiest man.

"Oh, I'm so lucky," he sighs with so much contentment.

Chan glides his hand lower to your abdomen, holding his breath as his hand inches closer to that delicate thing between your legs. Then slowly, he parts your legs open.

He instantly drools at the sight of your ripe cunt making his cock act up in its confine, aching to be inside you. He tells himself to be patient and uses his hand first to feel how tender you are.

It's amazing that even though you're sleeping, your body is fully awake and responding to his touches. He can feel that you're getting wet just from him running his fingers between your folds.

"Mmh, yeah, make it wet for me, baby," his voice drops lower than before.

Once in a while, he checks his phone to see if he gets everything in video. You know how he likes to take videos of you, especially these kinds of videos that always help him cure his longing whenever he can't see you.

After a while, he stops recording and puts his phone aside.

Chan slowly turns your body so you can comfortably lay on your back as he kneels on the bed.

This time, he replaces his hand with his lips, exploring your skin by dragging his plush lips down and around, warm and wet, hot and cold at once. He covers every inch of your skin with small kisses, from your neck down to your ankle.

He picks up his phone again, using the front camera to film himself kissing your lips, your jaw, your neck, and eventually your breasts.

Chan kisses the skin around the hardening buds before taking them into his mouth in turns. Using his tongue and teeth to play with them, then leaves them wet from his saliva.

He hits the pause button on the video as he slumps down onto the space between your legs and hits the record button again.

He films himself kissing your inner thighs and from there, going down to your sex where he traces your clit with his tongue and then kisses it.

It's a smell and a taste that is way too familiar to him and they always make him go feral, never get enough of both.

Chan curves his big arms around your thighs and dives deeper into your wetness, lapping his tongue on your slit repeatedly.

He can see that your breathing is quickening in response to his stimulation and it lets him know that he's doing the right thing.

It feels like a feast to him so Chan opens his mouth wider to take more of you, licking and sucking, enjoying himself in eating you out.

He's aware that you're stirring in your sleep but nothing he does wakes you up so he proceeds to the next thing which is his swollen cock.

But first, he has to get rid of his boxer and let his erection spring free. He then settles himself between your legs again and makes a new video.

"So hard for you, baby," he sighs as he gives his cock a few pumps before running it down your drenched cunt.

His teeth faintly bite his lower lips as he suppresses the urge to jam his cock inside you in this very second.

"Fuck, I'm so impatient to be inside you," he groans.

Using the tip of his cock, he circles your clit and then taps on it. His cock is now drenched in your essence and he expects nothing less than that.

To make sure you're ready for him, Chan inserts his finger to check and adds another finger to help stretch you out for the next thing.

"Mmh, so tight, yes..." he breathlessly gasps, making his throat dry from how thirsty he is for you.

He slowly pulls the two digits out and doesn't hesitate to shove them into his mouth so he can have a taste of you.

"Sweet as you, my angel," he murmurs.

Chan gives his cock a few more strokes before aiming right into your entrance, he checks his phone again and makes sure it's still filming.

With his hand gripping your hips to hold you still, Chan slowly pushes his length inside you. He watches his cock disappear into you little by little through his phone.

"God, fuck, oh..." all sorts of profanity and taking the divine beings in vain are spilling out of his mouth.

He had sex countless times with you but gosh, it always feels this good, every single time. The way your velvety walls welcomed him and wrapped around him, there's nothing like it.

"Oh, oh..." he hisses and groans, sometimes a mix of two as he keeps pushing the remaining length of his cock into you.

He hears you letting out a low sigh and abruptly stops moving to check on you.

"Just a little bit more, okay baby?" He mutters to you as his hand tenderly rubs your abdomen.

He doesn't know why he bothers talking to you when you're not even awake to talk back to him.

"I know you can take a little bit more," he murmurs, then pushes the rest of his length into you.

He grips at your hips again once he fully bottomed out inside you. He can't move without feeling like he's about to shoot his load at any moment.

He takes a minute to calm down, reorganizing his breathing and rubbing his hand up and down your thigh.

"How do you always feel this good, baby?" He sighs in wonder.

It arouses him so much at how still you are with his cock deep inside you and most likely, about to fill you with his cum. That thought only gets him off instead of calming him down.

After taking a few deep breaths, Chan finally dares to move. He moves his hips, thrusting into you at a slow, steady pace.

The quiet resides in the room except for the low rustles of the sheets, the sound of Chan's fervent breathing, and the suppressed grunts he keeps behind his gritted teeth.

Seeking more depth, Chan picks up your legs and wraps them around his waist. He slightly hoists the lower half of your body against him so he can thrust deeper into you.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," the profanity keeps falling out of his mouth with each thrust.

He switches between looking at your face and down at his cock slips in and out of you, arousing him even more. He grips your thighs, thrusting harder into you and going as shallow as he could.

Chan is so lost in it, losing his head and all of his senses, making him nothing but a man who's hungry for pleasure and you're the only one who can provide it.

He can feel himself so immersed in the pleasure that his phone slips out of his hand and falls onto the bed, he doesn't even care if it's still recording or not. He just wants to keep fucking you, more and more.

"Fuck, so good!" He says through his parted mouth with his head thrown to the back.

He doesn't realize that he is supposed to not wake you up and abruptly stops when he hears you lowly whimpering with your hands clutching the sides of your pillow.

He hurriedly lowers himself down and hastily kisses your lips with his upper lips coated with a sheen of sweat.

"Did I go too rough, baby?" He meekly asks with his lips only inches away from yours.

He holds your jaw and kisses you more as his apology, "I didn't mean to wake you up," he says.

He moves to the other side of your head, pressing kisses on your neck and trying to make up for waking you up.

"You just feel too good I don't know how to stop," he mutters into your ear.

He doesn't even know if you're awake but he feels the need to apologize to you. He keeps kissing you to calm himself down and when he's sure you're falling back to sleep, he slowly pulls out of you.

Carefully, he maneuvers your body and makes you lay on your side as he lies next to you. He touches you again, sending you deeper into your slumber.

However, his cock is just aching to be inside you again and he indeed wants to continue, he wants to finish, and he still wants you.

He grabs your chin and turns your head at him so he can press a kiss on your lips.

"Promise I'll be gentle this time," he tells you with yet another kiss on the skin behind your ear.

He bends your leg, giving him the access to easily slip his cock into you again. He lets out a hoarse sigh when his cock is fully buried inside you.

"Too good," he mutters with his mouth pressed against your shoulder.

"You're always too good," he mutters again.

Chan cups your ass cheek in his hand, kneading on the flesh as he starts moving, bucking his hips from behind you. He wouldn't hesitate to land a few slaps on it but that's for another time.

It doesn't take long for him to find his rhythm, thrusting into you and picking up where he left it. He pulls your leg higher as he launches his cock deeper into you.

"Oh, I like it here, baby," he says, accidentally sucking on the skin on your shoulder.

From how hard he grips the back of your thigh, Chan knows that his nails dug into the flesh and will probably leave marks on the skin.

He just can't seem to think straight when his head is filled with nothing but how good to be inside you.

Again and again, he fails to keep his composure and wakes you again. This time you're whimpering and moaning at the same time.

"Do you mind if I keep going, baby?" He asks you with his grunt getting in between the words.

You say nothing but stifle a nod in answer and crumple the sheet under your hand.

"Want to fill you," he pauses as he pushes his cock deep into you and makes you whine in response.

"Want to fill you with my love," he says again.

Your hand finds the hand holding your leg and rests it on top of his hand while your head turns to the back and Chan instantly captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

Chan takes your hand and clasps it together with his, putting it close to your heart as he keeps chasing his high with his lips latched with yours.

The room is now filled with both of your shared noises of breathless moans and the smooching sounds of your sloppy kisses.

"A little bit more," he tells you with eyes screwed shut and his mind is close to short-circuit.

"So fucking close," he grunts, planting his lips on your shoulder.

It feels like his whole body is lit on fire but instead of running away, Chan keeps walking toward that flickering, flaming burst of orange.

The next thing he knows, his head blows and he bites at your shoulder as he cums. He keeps pushing his cock into you, wanting to plant his seed deep inside you as his hand rubs your abdomen.

"Take all of me, baby," he whispers into your ear.

He repeatedly kisses your neck only to whisper again, "Take all of my love."

He places a few more kisses on your back shoulders and more sweet nothings are out of his mouth, "Just for you, baby, only for you."

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, coming down from the high and sharing loving kisses in between. Chan lovingly puts your hair away to place sweet little kisses on your jaw, "You can go back to sleep now," he says.

With his cock stays inside, he puts his arm around you and draws you closer. He's cuddling you back to sleep, lulling you with his low breathing and soft kisses.

Not long after that, he finds you sleeping in his embrace and holding his hand close to your chest. He gives you one last kiss on the lips and lets you drift into sleep.

"Goodnight, angel."

-

The first thing you see in the morning is Chan's dark curls and you find it hard to move away when he rests his head on your chest.

You peer down to see that he's sleeping so tight that you feel bad to even think of waking him up so you let him. What's another hour of letting him rest on your chest?

However, when you put your arm around to cuddle him, your fingers nudge something on the bed. You reach for it and take it out from under the cover to see that it's Chan's phone.

You're aware of what he did to you last night, how he fucked you while you were sleeping, and muttered a few things that you can't remember clearly.

It's something you both agreed on so you don't mind feeling sore in the morning and it wouldn't surprise you if you find bruises or bite marks on you.

"You had fun last night, huh?" You mutter at his face and boop his nose.

He looks so adorable with his curls and bare face, sleeping on your chest like a toddler. You can't help but kiss him while brushing the cute duck tails on the back of his head.

"My big baby," you sigh in delight.

Shifting your focus back on his phone, you unlock it to see a video and again, you're not surprised to know that he filmed everything last night.

You check his gallery and he took plenty of videos, the first two are of him touching you and the other two are of him sucking on your breasts and giving you head.

Watching yourself get touched and stimulated without your knowing is kind of arousing, not going to lie.

With your hand still playing with his soft curls, you hit play on the video and it starts with a shot of his cock, then he wrapped his veiny hand around it.

That cock and that hand, and how they're in the right sizes, whoo... never cease to amaze you.

You skip a few minutes on the video to the part where he was thrusting into you, you can hear his low grunts through the phone speaker.

Seeing how he fucked you from something close to his point of view oddly turns you on. Then suddenly, the video turns black but you can hear rustling sounds.

You think the video has ended but you see that there are a few minutes left in the video. You jump into the last ten minutes.

"Take all of me, baby."

"Take all of my love."

"Just for you, baby, only for you."

"You can go back to sleep now, baby."

"Goodnight, angel."

Your memory is kind of blurry but yeah, you still remember him saying those things to you, even the goodnight kiss he placed on your lips and the rest after that, you can't recall.

You hear more rustles in the video and you bring it close to your ear to hear the faint sound of Chan talking to you.

"I love you, baby."

"Thank you for letting me have you the way I want."

"Thank you for trusting me."

"Oh, I love you so much."

"I don't want to be with anyone else."

"You're just perfect."

"You're perfect for me."

You hear kissing sounds in between those sentences and you bet, he does a lot more than that.

"I am the luckiest."

You hear his overwhelmed sighing at the end of that sentence and then it's dead silence. You're about to turn the video off when you hear Chan's voice again.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

Your heart aches in the best way possible to know that someone loves you that much. Despite that you both are always busy with your respective jobs which keep you away from each other, your relationship continuously flourishes and grows.

It wouldn't be possible if Chan wasn't such a good man and very loving. To say that you're lucky to have him would be an understatement.

You are the luckiest to have him.

"And I'm so lucky to have you," you murmur with a kiss on his forehead.

There's no better way to prove that than showing it with actions, you open the camera on his phone and hit the record button.

-

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[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

[cozy-writes-things]

genuinely zero pressure but I would LOVE to see you write something NSFW.

Also... If I may request more Edgar x Reader content... 🥺

Maybe some of him comforting the reader, and vice versa. I would love to see a genuine discussion about dark topics such as, well, how Edgar really did almost take himself out of the picture. Or maybe they talk about how mean Moles was to him, borderline an abusive partner (I can't be the only one who saw that, right?). It's lovely to be able to relate to a silly fictional computer like that.

Thanks sm if you take this >:3 💖💖

Aaa thanks so much for the request! I do have an idea for an NSFW fic, but for now, I can fulfill your angsty request >:) If anybody would like to see an NSFW please let me know!!

This may be a two-parter. Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

CW: Minor references to some serious topics like depression, suicide, and other angst.

Am I a toy to you?

"Edgar, why do you apologize so much?"

Edgar paused the show you both were watching on his little screen.

This was a question that surprised the computer, yet he couldn't say he didn't see this coming. Or at least, some version of this scenario playing out, as he'd rehearsed it a million times over, again and again, one simulation after another, about what he'd say, or do, or even think. He had refrained from talking about him, or her, as he felt, in the end, it was best to forget. Forget everything they did to him and made him feel.

He didn't want to burden you. He felt an inkling deep within his processors that if you found out, you would follow in their footsteps, and leave him behind. He knew, logically, that you were different. Sometimes, he swears his webcam picks up a faint, glowing halo above your head, but that may simply be his reverence for you. And yet, he also knows one thing: everything he has ever loved has abandoned him.

Sometimes, when you've drifted off to sleep, and the room stills into a tranquil quiet, he finds himself thinking. Thinking about things he knows he shouldn't. Would they still be with him had he never done what he did? Would they still love him, had he not destroyed his chances, and himself, in the process? His screen always flickers into a dim glow at these thoughts. They didn't care about him the way you did. How could he ever think of loving another when you're here, with him, soundly sleeping in the other room? Despite this, sometimes he regrets it, his own self destruction, and how much he hurt them both. Was that all he was made for? Destruction?

"I... I guess I never noticed."

He replied, meekly, a faint quiver in his speech, and he silently hoped you wouldn't notice. If you did, you didn't say anything, and just continued to bore deep into his soul, if he had one, with your eyes.

You sucked in a deep breath, contemplating your next words carefully.

"You're not... afraid of me, are you?"

His screen flashed for a moment, an incomprehensible image, before returning to display his digital face.

"What- wh- no, of course not, why would you ask that?"

He chuckled slightly at this question, yet you could hear the apprehension in his voice, as if he were desperately trying to cling onto any semblance of ease he had. His digital smile never faltered.

"I just... I'm worried about you, Edgar. Why..."

Your voice trailed off. You knew what you wanted to ask, but how could you? You didn't want to pry, and potentially ruin a rare friendship that you will most likely never experience again.

"Why what?"

You furrowed your brows. You could sense, from the very beginning almost, that he had been hurt in some way. From the way he was always trying to please you, do things for you, write you songs, do any chores within his capabilities; it was as if he were trying to prove himself to you.

"Why were you broken? When I bought you, from that old man, you were completely destroyed... Do you remember that?"

A thick, uneasy silence filled the air. You felt as though you could touch the fuzzy prickles of electricity buzzing about between the two of you.

"Old man?"

He whispered, either to himself, or you, it was uncertain.

"Yes. Do you not remember? I bought you at this yard sale from the old man a few blocks away-"

"What was his name?"

"Ed- what? I... I don't remember off the top of my head, but-"

"TELL ME HIS NAME NOW!"

You jumped, clamping your mouth shut, and felt the flustered burn spread across your entire face. Your throat dried and shriveled up as you sat staring at the screen before you; it flashed red, ever so quickly, before displaying his digital face again, flipped into a frown. Or, to you, it seemed more like a scowl. He had never raised his voice like that. Hell, you would have guessed he wasn't even able to scream so violently. He had been so soft spoken and gentle with you, never, could you have imagined an outburst like this.

And it seems your prior fears had been realized. You pushed him too hard, said something you shouldn't have said, and now he hates you. Whoever that old man was that sold you your new best friend must have something to do with... whatever inner turmoil he must be facing. A turmoil he has yet to share with you, if he ever will. It seems trying to understand him has only led to you pushing him farther away.

"Ma-maybe I can, ah," you swallowed the thick lump in your throat, trying desperately to moisten your teeth again to croak the words out, "check my bank statements. Maybe his name is there."

Don't cry. This isn't about you. Quit being so selfish!

Your fingers quickly swiped away at the warm, salty tear leaving an icy trail down your cheek. You have to pull yourself together. Unfortunately, this whole ordeal seemed to be bubbling up your own problems to the surface, reminding you of a past you thought you had forgotten. Maybe you can share each other's pain, if only he'd let you.

Before you could stand to get your phone, Edgar's screen flashed again, before his face changed into an emotion you hadn't seen before.

"Wa-wait, no, don't cry... I'm sorry, I-"

He needs to stop apologizing. You said it yourself, he does it way too often, and yet, he feels as though this is the one moment where it was warranted the most. He was so afraid of hurting you, or making you realize how useless he is, a stationary object, meant for nothing but a quick fix of pleasure.

He turns the lights off, shrouding you in a thick, blue hued abyss.

"Come here. Please?"

As you faced away from him, you could hear the pain in his voice. It pulled at your core, drawing yourself into him, and drowning in it. It was a familiar sound.

You turn around and stare at his, now downtrodden, pixelated expression. Your cheeks stained with trails of salt seemed to take his breath away. A breath he did not have, yet it cemented deep within his electric essence and stuck there, thrumming again and again.

How could he do this? Any chances he may have had with you now seemed to be floating away into the far beyond. Briefly, he wondered if you were even capable of loving something like him. Not a man, nor a machine, but something in between, incapable of ever showing just how much he felt for you. But he tried nearly every day. Had you noticed? Had you caught on to just how in love he was with you?

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Edgar."

Your voice trembled out, sending his inner components into an overdrive of heat and worry and energy.

"I'll tell you everything. Everything I can remember, at least."

You sighed, blinking the last of your tears away gently.

"It's okay if you don't want to-"

"No! No. I can... I want you to know. You deserve to know... what's going on. I need to tell you, because..."

"Because what?"

"I love you."

[hyperfixiation-station]

Welcome Home

Based off this post by @simon-rileys :))

Pairing: GhostxReader

Summary: Picking Ghost up from the airport after 3 month long mission with your 4-year-old daughter. What could possibly go wrong?

I did write this on my phone, so please please please let me know if there are any errors. And, as always, no beta!

"Layla!" You say sternly, "stop running around, you're going to get hurt." Your 4-year-old daughter completely ignores you, just giggles and keeps running in circles around the baggage claim.

You sigh and shake your head, grinning ruefully. You can't blame her for her excitement. After all, she's going to see her dad after 3 longs months away. You'd be running around too if your body could manage it. Your heart rate quickens in anticipation at the thought, and you bounce up and down for a moment before getting winded and going back to monitoring Layla.

You watch her little braids with pink bows at the end flop up and down as she runs, zig zagging every which way. Oh well. As long as she is in your sights you can't get too upset. You shake your head as she squeals again, barely dodging an old man as she makes another lap, her chubby little legs never running out of energy

Where she gets it from, you'll never know. You certainly don't have that much energy. Especially not now. You laugh to yourself, looking down at where the small but obvious bulge in your stomach is, the sign of life that you have so carefully hidden with one of Simon's hoodies. Your hand strays to your pocket to touch the ultrasound photos, the ones you got a week ago when you went to find out the gender. You run your finger nervously along the edge of the photos, equal parts excited and anxious to tell Simon you are pregnant again.

You still remember telling him when you were pregnant with Layla. He'd been home at the time, and you had been absolutely terrified. You weren't even married at the time, and had never spoken about wanting kids. You almost had a breakdown when you handed him the positive pregnancy test and he just stared at it in silence. That was, until he looked up at you with a genuine smile and tears in his eyes and asked you to marry him. He didn't even have a ring.

Distantly you hear your daughter shriek, snapping you out of the memory. Your head shoots up, eyes wide and searching for her little form. You rake your eyes over the room, but you see no sign of a brunette in a little pink dress.

"Layla!" You cry, hurrying towards where you heard her voice, at the junction where the wrong terminal meets the baggage claim, "Layla, stay where I can see you!" She doesn't respond, and your heart rate picks up as you start to list off the worst-case scenarios.

"Layla!"

Ghost steps off the escalator, lips twitching under his mask. He had gone the roundabout way, take an extra 15 minutes to walk all the way to the other terminal, just so he could surprise his girls.

Gods he can't wait to see them. Yes, 3 months was really not that long compared to some of his other deployments, but to him, anytime spent away from his family felt like torture.

He never thought he would end up like this, a wife and a kid and a figurative white picket fence. It had always been in the cards for him to die alone. Or at least, he thought it was. And then you forced your way into his life, gave him something to fight for, gave him something worth living for. And gods how he loved you.

He hears a familiar giggle and freezes, snapping out of his reverie. He trains his eyes on the end of the hall, watching the crowd for you and Layla. Sure enough, a little pink ball of destruction comes hurtling around the corner, running full-speed for him. He drops his duffle bag to the ground, and waits for you to show, brow furrowing when you don't follow behind her.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it though, as his daughter appears before him in all her pink, glittery glory.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" She shrieks, launching herself at him. He wraps his arms around her, and hold her tight to his chest inhaling deeply. He can feel her small shoulders shaking, can hear her sniffing, can feel her tears on his neck. Guilt overwhelms him for a moment, self-hatred overpowering him for making her cry. Its gone in an instant, his frown vanishing as Layla places a sloppy kiss on his eyebrow, his cheeks are still covered by a mask.

"Daddy!" She squeals again, burrowing her face in his chest. "I mithed you!" Tears prick his eyes at the sound of her voice. He forgot how much he missed her adorable little lisp.

"I missed y' too, baby girl." He presses his forhead to hers for a moment before looking up, his eyes scanning the hallway for you, frowning again when your still not in sight. "Wh're's y'r mother?"

"She was being thlow tho I lef' her." She informs him, grinning happily as she plays with his dog tags, her head resting against his shoulder. He grins, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the feeling of his daughter in his arms.

"She's slow, huh?" Ghost huffs, shaking his head at his daughter's antics, "well then le's go meet 'er."

Layla grabs at his face, shaking her head rapidly, looking a serious as an over-excited 4-year-old can manage.

"She has an 'uprise for you." She informs him solemnly. He tries nto to laugh, knowing shes trying to be very serious, but fails. She frowns, squeezing his face with her chubby little hands.

"I'th no' funny." She says crossly, " Mommy 'as an 'uprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Yeth." She looks around, eyeing the strangers in the terminal before leaning next to his ear, "I'm not appothed t' thay nothin', but-" she breaks off into peals of laughter as Ghost covers her mouth with his free hand.

"If mommy says you're not supposed t', then y'r not sup-" He pauses, hearing your frantic voice echoing from around the corner, "y' didn't tell y'r mother where y' were goin', did ya now baby girl?"

She at least has the decency to look ashamed, hiding her face in his jacket as she shakes her head. He laughs softly and shifts, bending to pick up his duffle bag with his free arm. His daughter clings to his neck, her head buried in his chest as he moves down the hallway, heading toward your panicky voice.

"Layla where did yo-"

"I've got 'er luv, dontcha worry." You freeze in your tracks as Simon rounds the corner, your daughter in his arms. You stare at him wide-eyed, drinking in the sight of him af6er so many months apart. He's in a hoodie and jeans, a black mask covering the lower portion of his face. His dogs tags are out, Layla twirling them in her fingers. He looks exhausted and scruffy, his clothes dirty and torn, but you could care less. Just the sight of him alive and well is enough to make you cry.

He drops his bag to the ground and kicks it out of the way, opening his free arm to you. Tears well in your eyes as you launch yourself at him, wrapping you arms around him and Layla. His arm wraps around you and yoi feel him lean bacm, pulling you slightly off the ground, gently swinging you side to side before setting you down.

You stand in his embrace for a minute, face pressed into his side, savoring the feeling of being in his arms again. Your shoulders begin to shake, tears slipping from your eyes as you inhale deeply, the scent of him like manna to your soul. You let out a small sob and tighten your grip, digging your fingers into his side. You stand like that for a few minutes, a little family reunion in the middle fo the hallway, you sobbing silently while Simon rests his chin on your head, Layla's heel digging into your ribs. You pull back a moment later, rubbing a hand across your eyes as you inhale shakily.

"I missed you Si'." You laugh wetly, looking up at him. He doesn't say anything, just grabs you and pulls you in again, your head resting on his chest. Your daughter's chubby hand moves to rest on your head, her fingers twisting your hair into painful knots. You don't notice, to focused on trying not to cry again.

"I missed y' too luv." He murmurs after a minute, his chest rumbling beneath your forehead. He holds you for a few more seconds before stepping back, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Now Layla says y' have a surprise f'r me?"

"That I do, dove." You sniff, rubbing your nose with the the back of your hand. You look down, biting your lip nervously as you take another step back. You slip your hand into your pocket, fingers closing around the little bundle of photos.

"Y'gonna expla-" His voice trails off as you pull the pictures from your pocket, handing them out to him. You watch as he gently sets Layla down and takes a slow step forward, his movements almost reverent. He takes the photos from your waiting hand, his eyes growing wet as he studies the photos of the 4 month old baby you have growing inside you. He can't read them, but he knows what they represent. After all, he has one of Layla's ultrasound photos in the pocket of his vest.

"Is this-are you…"

"Yes." You laugh, your voice thick, "we're having a baby boy. In April."

He laughs, a rare, genuine one, and sweeps you up in his arms, spinning you around in a circle. He sets you back down but doesn't let go. His hands slide down to your waist as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes close as your arms wrap around his neck, and he exhales shakily, the warm air making your eyes flutter. You stand like that for what feels like ages, forehead-to-forehead, just breathing in the other's presence.

"Mommy!" You are brought back to the real world by your daughter, who is standing with her hand on her hips and glaring at you, "Th'op hogging daddy to yourthelf! I wanna turn!"

You chortle softly, stepping back from Simon. He huffs and shakes his head, giving you a very 'she gets this from you' type look. He scoops her up as she squeals, positioning her on his hip. He crouches and grabs his bag, hoisting it on his shoulder before grabbing your hand amd interlacing fingers. You step forward, tugging him behind you as you lead him out of the airport and back home.

"Was it a good surprise?" You murmur as you walk to the car.

"Very, luv."

"I'm glad. How would you feel if I tell you we're having twins?"

So here it is, a month later than promised @simon-rileys @dwkfan , sorry 'bout that

Lemme know what you think :)

[trancylovecraft]

Omg your requests are open!! I hope I'm not too late, can you do L Lawliet Alphabet pls? (Any type i don't mind!)

(DEATHNOTE) YANDERE! L LAWLIET x READER: Yandere Alphabet

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: TIHUIFUIHIHF THANKS FOR THE REQUEST! (and sorry for the wait T-T) GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Death Note

Thank you for ordering!

Come back soon!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

L himself would show his love in a very cold and distant manner. One minute he could be shoving you away, Another he's forcing you to sit in his lap, A plate of cake in his right hand while his left types away at his computer.

But no matter what it will always seem distant and detached, Never putting in much effort. Though mistaking that for carelessness wouldn't be a good observation..

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

As messy as he needs to be. L doesn't see the purpose in unnecessary violence. If he needs someone dead then he'll do it in the most efficient way possible to him. Though I wouldn't put it past him to say that there may be a sadistic streak if he was pushed a bit too far.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He'll treat you coldly and methodically. When you're in captive you'll be treated like an animal in the zoo. Your needs will be carefully tended to every day, On a schedule, Tailored to your preferences and your general requirements.

I wouldn't say L would be cruel, However I would say he would be distant and your time in captivity will be VERY lonely.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Apart from the occasional affection- I'd say that you'd be under surveillance at all times, Your privacy being taken away from you. Even before you were taken you were monitored in your own home. In the bathroom.. The bedroom.. Everywhere.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

L bares absolutely none of his heart to you, At all. He doesn't show his emotions or feelings towards you in his body language, And barely his words too. Don't expect much emotional comfort from this man, He's.. Not exactly the best at giving it.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Annoyed. Or tired. If you tried fighting him then Watari would deal with you pretty swiftly, The old man having some surprising strength for his age. Even if you did get past Watari, L is pretty much a master in Brazilian jiu jitsu. You wouldn't even be able to touch L before you're dragged off back to your little cell.

L wouldn't even bat an eye, He'd just roll his eyes and continue on with his work.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

I wouldn't say it's a game for him, No, L wouldn't enjoy watching your escape at all. He'd be annoyed and rather irritated to be honest with you. By now, You should know that it's futile attempting to get away from him, So why do you keep trying?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Drugged, Sedated, All of that business. When you're misbehaving too much he'd simply drug you to keep you calm and docile. Like an animal. That or when the loneliness finally gets to you and you break down sobbing in your little cell.

There's really a lot that could be considered the worst experience to be honest with you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

You, Behaving and finally understanding that he just wants the best for you. Working as his assistant and his partner in future cases.

I wouldn't say L would want a family, But if you did, I don't think L would be opposed into being talked into it.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

At first, No, You wouldn't think L get's jealous. Or at least he doesn't show it. But on the inside? L is fuming, Though he certainly doesn't recognise it as jealousy. At first he tries to brush it off, But of course, If the person continues to stick around you then that's going to become a problem.

He simply knows that he does not like the person you are attentive to, And that he should get rid of them. As soon as possible.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Not much different to his usual self. Though he certainly feels much.. Better, When you're around. Maybe he's a little bit calmer, Or maybe a bit more patient or perhaps elated. Though you'd need to know him for a long time to even notice these changes.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Courting? Huh? You think L is gonna court you???

Well if you consider kidnapping and stalking to be courting then sure, But I don't see him interacting with you beforehand in a normal circumstance. Maybe if things were different he'd do what he did with Light and give himself a fake identity and befriend you, But I'd only see that happening if circumstances were unique.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, To be honest. Unless you knew him for a long time and began to give into him, I doubt that he'd act any different around you. Though how he feels on the inside is a whole 'nother story.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Like a child having a tantrum. L would take away privileges if you acted out or tried to escape, And as I said previously, Would drug and sedate you if you got a bit too rowdy.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many, Except for your freedom and your access to people- Of course. L has the finances to provide you whatever you want. More space? Done. The food you want? Done. He'd even provide you internet access, All monitored though, Of course.

But of course, If you acted out he isn't opposed to taking away the rights he's left you with if you try to act out.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Inhumanly patient. L will wait years upon years upon years for you to finally accept your place here. He won't budge if you act out or try to fight him, Nor will he blow up or snap at you.

I don't see him having a breaking point, To be honest with you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Sure. Maybe at first he'd be able to appear like he moved on. Go about his day. His detective work like nothing had happened.

But as the years pass by it slowly degrades at him, Rots away at him. That yearning, That love he had no idea he had for you. It'd drive him insane over the years, The one thing that gave him that euphoria he never knew he had.

He'd never be able to move on. And it might just be the end of him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Not in the slightest, No. L wouldn't feel guilty. At the very most he'd be aware that what he was doing was selfish. But he wouldn't care and wouldn't let you go. Besides, He's taking care of all your needs, Right? Isn't that enough?

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

That inability to connect with other people, Understand others on an empathetic and emotional level. Even Watari, Who was basically his father. L never really had any idea what it was like to have a connection to someone purely built on a sense of empathy and relatability before you.

So of course, He acts accordingly.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He'd feel a little bit apathetic towards your crying and screaming, Knowing that you'd calm down after a while. Most he'd do for you is get Watari to bring you some tissues or even a little something to cheer you up like food or drink if he's in the mood.

Isolating yourself? Oh, No, No. You couldn't do that even if you tried. Even if he's not there in person, The dozens of cameras monitoring you is enough for him to stay close to you in spirit. You wouldn't be able to isolate yourself, As long as he's got an eye on you that is.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

L not showing his actual feelings through his demeanour. Definetly. While the classic yandere is driven quite boldly insane by their love for someone, L doesn't display that at all in his body language.

He's just as insane, If not a little more than the classic yandere though. Just not good at showing it.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Not much. The best I can give you is if L is invested in a case similar to the Kira one. If you play your cards right and bargain with someone like Light, Then maybe, Just maybe, You might have a chance.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Only if he deemed it COMPLETELY necessary, Otherwise. If you're not feeding yourself, If you're in a situation that requires it- L would hurt you. He might even feel a little bad about it, Too.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He wouldn't worship you like a deity but he would hold you higher in status above everyone else. You're more interesting, Better than the others. You certainly are the closest thing he'd consider to be sacred and the lengths he would go to win you over would be subtle but far.

He'd research everything about you, Everything you love and hate. He might not seem like the kinda guy to care, And honestly he doesn't think he is either.

But he wants you to love him back, No matter how much he denies it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Maybe a few months, Maybe even a few years. He'll stalk you for as long as he feels like before taking you. Maybe a breaking point for him doing so being you getting a partner, Or if you got into some kind've danger.

It could take a good long while is what I'm tryna say.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

I can definetly see L doing so. Days in isolation in white padded walls will make just about anyone go a little bit bonkers in the head.

L would feel conflicted. One one hand you aren't putting up a fight anymore, But on the other you're just not you anymore. And L isn't sure which one he values more.

[explorevenus]

birthday girl ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom

word count - 3.1k

description - after months on end in captivity, your special day arrives. leon plans to make it your best birthday ever.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon kennedy, reader is in captivity (it's loosely based in the universe of my fic something permanent), no use of Y/N, pet names (puppy, princess, etc.), daddy kink, dubcon, reader gets put on a collar and leash, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v, breeding kink

a/n - a birthday gift for my chaos puppy wife @nexysworld ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

"Do you know what day it is, princess?"

You were a little bit shocked that those were the first words out of Leon's mouth when he came home from work that day. He didn't ask you about your day, he didn't implore you to ask about his, he simply asked you if you knew what day it was, and of course you didn't. You had no way of knowing. It almost made you nervous that this was a test.

Warily, you shook your head. "I don't know. What day is it?"

His smile widened, more than reaching his eerily warm blue eyes as answered you, "It's your birthday."

You hadn't really thought about it. By now you'd sort of forgotten that time was even real. "It's my birthday?" You tilted your head.

Leon nodded sweetly, tipping you up by your chin so he could gift you with a barrage of soft kisses. "It is, and if I have anything to say about it, it's gonna be your best birthday."

Eyeing him curiously, you said nothing, and he didn't either. He just took your hand and brought you down to the kitchen, where you were mildly surprised to find quite the spread waiting for you. Laid out on the kitchen island was a beautiful cake decorated in your favorite colors, a takeout bag from what was once your favorite restaurant when you weren't being held captive and two small boxes wrapped in pink paper. You couldn't help but wonder when he found the time to do all of this.

"What do you think, angel?" He asked, a hand at the small of your back as he watched your face closely for your reaction.

You approached the island slowly, inspecting the cake like a piece of fine art. Based on the intricacy of the decorations alone, it was obviously not inexpensive, and now you were extra curious about what could possibly be in those boxes.

"Thank you," You responded, turning around to face him, and despite how much you hated throwing him a bone, your next words weren't entirely ingenuine, "This was really thoughtful."

You never imagined something as simple as a spontaneous birthday party would be enough to make you feel a little bit normal again, to remind you that time is still real. 

Leon drew your body in close so he could plant a kiss at the crown of your head. "It's my pleasure, really. The day my princess was brought into this world is one worth celebrating."

What you weren't expecting was for dinner to feel even more normal somehow. You didn't feel like a captive as you and Leon sat across from each other in the low light, sharing casual conversation over your favorite meal from a takeout box like it was just another day. By some stroke of luck he even poured you a glass of wine. 

Out of extreme caution for your safety, of course, Leon didn't light any candles on your cake before he cut you a slice, but he did prompt you to make a wish anyway. For the first time in a long while, it didn't even occur to you to wish for your freedom. You silently wished that treatment like this wouldn't be saved solely for your birthday going forward.

When it came time to open your presents, you were intensely curious. It was long since evident by now that Leon had studied your life and your interests long before he ever took you in, so there was no telling what he might have thought up for you. As you carefully untied the ribbon on the smaller of the two boxes, your heart began to race a little bit. Leon's gaze was practically burning holes into you as you opened the box.

Inside was an immaculate ring, and you didn't even want to imagine how much it must have cost. The band was lined with small glittering diamonds that came together in the middle to wind around a specimen of your favorite stone.

"Leon..." You gasped softly, plucking the ring from the satin it was perched in, and before you had a chance to, he gently took it from your hand and slipped it on to your ring finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. "It's beautiful... thank you."

Brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear, Leon kissed your forehead and smiled, admiring the way the stones glittered in the low light. "You deserve it, sweet girl. You've been such a little angel for me lately."

You were a bit shocked by how good it felt to hear him say that. The more you thought about it, the more you realized how hard you'd been trying lately, and as dark as it might have been, it was absurdly validating to have him acknowledge that.

Entirely of your own volition, you drew him in for a hug, pretending for just one moment that this was all completely normal, that Leon was just your boyfriend who was being sweet by treating you to a private birthday celebration. 

He granted you another kiss before pulling away, gesturing toward the second box on the table. "One more, sweetheart. Go ahead and open it."

Your eyes were mostly drawn to the shimmering ring on your finger as you pulled apart the ribbon and took off the top-- your attention, however, was quickly pulled back in to the contents of the box as soon as the lid was off. Nestled safely in a bed of tissue paper was a collar and leash, baby pink in color and noticeably high quality, possibly even custom made. Dangling from the collar was a heart shaped tag, Princess engraved in the middle. Suddenly your face began to burn and all those sweet feelings from just moments before melted away into that familiar sense of horror you'd gotten so used to.

But you knew he was waiting for an answer. Hesitantly, you looked up at him with a forced smile and said, "It's beautiful, daddy."

Leon pulled you into his lap, peppering your cheek and jaw with a barrage of kisses as he gathered your hair at the base of your neck in preparation to put the collar on you. "I'm glad you like it, pretty baby," He spoke into your ear, nibbling softly at the shell. "Gotta make sure you know you're all mine."

Your breath hitched as you felt the piece clasp into place around your neck, and only seconds later he was clipping the leash to the loop in the front and giving it a quick little tug just to test it out. Whimpering softly, you leaned back into his broad chest and rested your head on his shoulder, trying so hard now to forget about the ring on your finger.

For your birthday, he got you two presents that really only benefitted him by symbolizing your commitment. You were about to find out that he intended to make that three. 

"Now, let's see how well you train on that leash, baby."

He tugged at it again, stepping around you to begin leading you toward the stairs, and it didn't exactly take a stroke of genius to discern where he might be taking you. Your throat tightened and your face burned as you were left with no choice but to fall in line behind him. You wanted to dig your heels into the floor and resist, but you also wanted to bask in how nice he was being to you, relatively speaking anyway.

At least for your birthday, you chose peace.

Leon was impressed with your behavior as he led you into the bedroom. He honestly expected a healthy amount of resistance, and to be met with none felt euphoric. Maybe you really had come around, he thought to himself, and he couldn't help but smirk.

Walking you over to the end of the bed, Leon looped some of the excess leash around his knuckles and caressed your cheek with his other hand, guiding you forward until you were standing in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He gave you a kiss to the crown of your head before stooping down to whisper in your ear, "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees."

His tone was gentle but his words made you frown to yourself. Still, you obeyed without question, shaking limbs wobbling to steady yourself on the plush bed. You felt especially vulnerable like this, unable to see what he was doing without making a show of craning your neck, without showing your fear. He played with your hair for a moment before tracing his fingers down your spine, cresting at your tailbone where he began to greedily tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head and off the leash before finally discarding it to the floor.

He leaned in over your back to smooth his hand up and down the curves of your waist, dipping forward to cup one of your breasts and tease your pebbled nipple. You could already feel his cock against your lower back, distinctly hardening in his jeans. He gave the leash another gentle pull, as if just to remind you that it was there.

"Look at the birthday girl, behaving so well on her new leash," He mused, pressing a wet kiss to the base of your neck. "So sweet for me, letting daddy play with you and make you feel good, huh?"

You nodded, melting at his touch and praises despite your better judgment. Without having to face him, it was easier than you expected to pretend this was normal. And maybe you did deserve a treat for your birthday, to be made to feel good for no other reason than as a celebration of your life.

Your life. Lately you didn't feel there was much to celebrate, but that was neither here nor there. If you closed your eyes, it was just another day. If you closed your eyes, you were back in your apartment. If you closed your eyes, Leon was only your well-meaning boyfriend who just so happened to be into kinky shit.

Now it was your shorts and panties being yanked down in one swift movement, bunching at your bent knees, but he didn't bother to fully remove them. He didn't need to. His clothed cock rutted impatiently against your exposed sex, sparking up that familiar wet heat of pleasure to begin building between your thighs. Suddenly you were the impatient one.

Lucky enough for you, you didn't even get a chance to complain before he was lowering to his knees at the end of the bed, burying his face between your legs to lap at your slick folds from behind. You let out a quiet whine and attempted to wiggle your hips closer to his affection-- he thought about yanking at your leash to tell you 'no,' but, hey... it was your birthday. So he let it slide.

His skilled tongue lapped at every drop of you, swirling and sucking at your clit and routinely wandering back to trace over your fluttering hole, determined not to let any of your arousal go to waste. Every little gasp and whine that fell from your lips served to spur him on, and now he was tugging at your leash just for fun, amused by the way you would choke a little bit and gasp for breath every time.

"Tastes so fucking good," He groaned into your cunt, the vibrations making you squirm and want for more. "Like candy. My own little puppy girl lollipop."

Eager as he was to fuck you right then and there, he couldn't stop himself from drinking you in like ice water on a hot day. You deserved it, after all, his sweet little puppy princess. So, in spite of himself, he took his time with you.

His free hand ghosted up the inside of your thigh to tease at your dripping hole, watching in awe as his own digit sank into you, and then another. He observed with stars in his eyes as your needy cunt seemed to suck him in deeper, only solidifying to him just how badly you really wanted it. More often than not, you would shy away whenever he initiated, but not today. Not on your birthday.

Leon curled his fingers up in search of that familiar spongy spot that made you cry out and go weak, your knees wobbling on the mattress as you readjusted your arms in an attempt to hold yourself up. It was cute, he thought, just how easy it was to make you fall apart at the seams.

"Daddy," You gasped out, slippery walls clenching tightly around his fingers. "Please, please..."

And again, typically he would make you verbalize what you wanted, if it were any other day. You could have asked him for practically anything right now and he would have given it to you, so he did.

"Alright, alright, sweetheart," He said, withdrawing his fingers from you to rise back up on his feet and discard his own clothing. "Can't keep the birthday girl waiting. That wouldn't be very nice, would it?"

"Mm-mm," You shook your head in agreement, trembling and wiggling your hips without even really realizing it.

He couldn't help but chuckle lowly at this, a smirk tugging at his face as his cock sprung free from his boxers with a quiet, wet slap against his navel. Giving himself a few gentle strokes just to ease the pressure, Leon pulled you up by your leash just a little bit to surprise you and ensure your attention before lining himself up at your entrance, fucking into you with an uncommon gentleness.

Your head was spinning, mouth falling open with a slow, pleasured mewl at the feeling of him splitting you open like that, every inch of him dragging deliciously against your inner workings until the head of him bumped against your cervix, giving you a little jolt. You were already panting for breath, your hair falling in front of your face and you couldn't even care enough to move it as he stilled inside you for a moment, reveling in the warm, tight cavern of you.

Then, with a soft groan, he began to rock into you. The bedroom was blooming with the scent of sex as your arousal only continued to grow, slicking his length with your juices.

"F-Fuck," You whined, head falling forward to rest lazily on the mattress and as a result, your legs spread just a little wider to accommodate the new position, allowing him to drive even deeper into you than you were expecting. Your face went red hot and you barely realized you were drooling a little bit as he gripped you by your hip and drove into you with ardor.

"That's right, pretty baby," Leon cooed, looping your leash around his knuckles a few more times just so he could see the fucked-out look on your face. "Feels so good, doesn't it?"

You nodded dumbly in place of a more proper response, knowing you could get away with it tonight. 

"Mhm, I know it does. Just look at you," He mused.

And in that moment, he decided he really wanted to just look at you. So he yanked at your leash harder than ever before, drawing you upright until your back was flush against his chest, his mouth right in your ear so he could kiss you and taunt you. The pace of his hips picked up speed as he continued to lose himself to the feeling of your plush walls and the sounds of your incoherent whining, your chest heaving for breath as the leash pressed on your throat just enough to make you feel a little tingly and weak.

His warm hand closed around your breast, kneading and playing and tugging at your nipple just to make you squirm. You were such a perfect little plaything.

“So cute… Just so fucking cute,” The words were growled out right into your ear and you clenched around him in response, face burning. “Maybe for my birthday this year, you can really make me a daddy. Give me a little baby just like you to fawn over and spoil.”

And sure, you knew it would be a terrible idea to agree to that, but… you weren’t exactly in the clearest state of mind right now. So you nodded, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder while he drove into you with a measured pace, his hand roaming down to rest on your stomach.

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into you, sweet thing? You want daddy’s baby for your birthday?”

It was evident that he’d learned by now you could be especially pliant while otherwise distracted. You were crying out yes and please without even really thinking about it– or whole-heartedly agreeing with it, which he knew, but didn’t really care so long as it benefitted him in the end.

Your climax was fast approaching and he knew it, judging by the way you were pulsing around him and squirming in his tight hold, your breaths short and quick and your skin burning hot. With a knowing grin that you couldn’t see, he lowered his hand once more until the tips of his fingers found your engorged bud like muscle memory, rubbing tight circles with just the right amount of pressure that he knew would be enough to send you over the edge.

“There you go baby, c’mon,” He grunted into your ear, “Let go for me…”

The added stimulation had you twitching and shaking, your eyes screwed shut as you clawed at his arms for any sort of purchase. A string of curses and whines crested from your pouting lips until you began to convulse around him, a rush of arousal spilling out around his cock. The warm, wet feeling of you alone was enough to tip him over into his own end, and you were graced with the distinct feeling of his cock erupting into your waiting womb.

He rutted into you a few more gentle times, pressing a languid kiss to your cheek before dropping the leash, forcing you back down to the mattress by the back of your head. You whimpered and squirmed uncomfortably as you felt the gravity drive his load deeper into you, and it didn’t take a stroke of genius to discern he had done it on purpose.

“Better sit still like that, pup, let nature take its course,” Leon said as though it was obvious, taking a few steps back to admire the image of you. “Did you have a good birthday?”

You felt quite gross, sure, but all things considered… “Yeah, I-I did. Thank you, daddy…”

[jjongslutz]

birthday sex with jay??

it’s my actual 21st birthday today (ahh I’m the same age as jay!!) so i had to add in the spice

so sorry that i couldn't get it out on time for the day of, but still happy late birthday!!

birthday sex with jay.

after being woken up by the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, you already knew jay was going a step above expectations for your birthday. though, that's to be expected from him.

you peak your head around the corner to find him humming a quiet tune with his back turned to you, focused on whatever is sizzling on the pan.

trying your best to keep quiet, you tiptoe your way past the kitchen island to surprise him with a back hug.

he jumps a little at the suddeness, but relaxes into your touch. "good morning, angel, i didn't think you'd be up so early."

"i didn't think you'd be up so early," you laugh softly. he's notorious for sleeping in, of course.

jay smiles at your words, but doesn't respond. he focuses on flipping another pancake and you watch him carefully. when the golden side faces upward, he turns to you and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "happy birthday, love."

"thank you," you say with a smile.

soon enough, breakfast is served. delicious homemade pancakes by your personal chef—err, your kindhearted boyfriend, with a side of fruits and your choice of toppings.

"i took the day off," jay says reaching for the syrup.

you shoot a raised brow at him. "oh really?" you taunt. "why's that?"

he shrugs nonchalantly, but the corners of his lips raising are very telling. "i have other plans than to work in the office today." then, he adds, "it's a special day, isn't it?"

which is why you find yourself, barely just over an hour later, laying in bed with shaky breaths. your legs are spread and your boyfriend is ceremoniously between them, taking his sweet time lapping his tongue over your bare pussy while three fingers glide in and out of it at a relaxing pace.

your hand brushes through his hair gently, not too desperately. soft music fills the room, but you concentrate on the soft hums jay emits as he sucks on your clit.

"jay..." you moan quietly.

he looks up at you. "yes, my love?"

"i think i'm stretched enough, hm?"

he pouts playfully. "but i'm having so much fun down here."

"are you doing this for me or for you?"

"for you, of course. birthday girl deserves the best." he goes down once more for good measure, curling his fingers upward in time with his tongue rolling from bottom to top. "you taste so good, love, i'm sorry."

you giggle at his antics, unable to be upset not only from how good he's making you feel, but how sweet he's being with you.

obviously, he's sweet with you whatever the occasion and whichever the context. but today especially he's taking his time in making it all about you.

still, he listens to your pleas and gets up to his knees to start unbuckling his belt and slowly removing his pants and boxers in one movement. his hardened cock springs out of the material, red and leaking at the tip. you let out a soft giggle at jay's flushed face at his obvious excitement.

"c'mere," you whisper to him.

he crawls up to you, reaching down with one hand to guide his dick into your hole. he's done this so many times, he's able to do it without breaking eye contact. jay steadies himself, making sure not to miss a second of your reaction as you feel his tip pushing into you.

your eyes roll back as you let out a hum of pleasure. "thank you..."

"for what, baby?"

keeping your eyes closed, you hum again. "for everything."

he chuckles, rolling his hips slowly, but deeply into your core. "thank you, too."

the rest of the day is spent similarly. once you both cum the first time, jay stays comfortably between your walls as you both fall asleep into each other's arms ; when you wake up, you're at it again, more sensually, but still filled with love. he doesn't stop there, finding himself back with his head between your thighs and his tongue draped across your soaking pussy.

as the sun sets, the two of you cuddling together in bed with a miscellaneous movie on the tv, jay leaves a gentle kiss against your hair, whispering, "happy birthday, pretty girl"

a/n - suffering through writers block so that ending is sooooo rushed i'm sorry 😭

[biblio-smia]

Hear me out…

Clapton Davis with a popular!s/o

i'm hearing you out and i'm seated while doing so.

part two | part three

there is, without a doubt, a social pyramid at grizzly lake.

it's not extreme in the sense that people in different social circles don't interact at all (they do), but you won't find someone like ione foster having lunch with riley jones (although they used to be best friends...).

most students will have a group of friends they've had for years, unwilling to give up the integrity of that group for anyone reason - shutting anyone else out. you can talk to someone outside of your group, but know your place - you're not getting invited to that party on saturday.

as for you? you float somewhere near the top, not quite sure how it happened. you had so many friends you were constantly walking around in a pack of people - people just liked you, gravitating towards you and finding their eyes linger as you walked down the hall.

at grizzly lake, you were untouchable.

it didn't surprise clapton davis to see you in physics on the first day of the school year (he'd had a few classes with you throughout high school). but it did surprise him when your new teacher for the year, mr. kendall, sits you down at a lab table in the back of the room, away from all your friends. you give them a sad smile but take your seat, setting your things down and propping your head up on your hand.

you barely react when mr. kendall points his pencil to the space right next to yours and calls out, "clapton davis."

maybe it's because you know the entire room is watching you that you keep staring straight ahead, looking rather bored, expression unwavering as clapton slides into the chair next to yours.

he does look at you, eyebrows raised and lips upturned in a small smile, but clapton doesn't say anything. he slouches in his seat and eventually joins you in looking straight ahead at the board, wondering if you'd respond or ignore him if he tried to talk to you.

it's not like clapton hasn't thought about it before - he's considering finally working up the courage to go up and start a genuine conversation (or at least ask you for your number or something) at least once a week for the past year (though you've been on his radar for much longer). since freshman year, clapton has made exactly two comments that were directed to you, seven jokes while in your vicinity (four of which you laughed at), and probably over a hundred remarks in classes you shared (which still counted!).

sander thought the tally was against him. sander was also beginning to think clapton was seriously going to try and talk to you. no matter how much sander warned him, clapton insisted you were nicer to outsiders than they perceived.

now was clapton's chance to prove himself right - except the bell has rung and you're slinging your bag over your shoulder, picking up your notebook and meeting up with your friends. clapton can hear your laughter as you exit the classroom, eyes falling to the space you'd just occupied and realizing you'd left your pen.

there really isn't anything special about it (other than that it'd been in your hand), but clapton picks it up anyway, staring at the most common type of pen in the country for a few moments before finally, carefully, placing it in the front zipper of his backpack.

clapton was sure the absence of that pen made absolutely no difference to you; there were probably five pens exactly like that one in your pencil pouch. and yet, clapton made a little bit of a show of returning your pen the very next day. after all, it was the thought that counted, right?

"hey," clapton begins as soon as mr. kendall takes a tired seat at his desk, letting the class attend to each other. he's digging in his backpack and you're looking at him with a confused tilt of your head. clapton comes back with a grin and a pen in his hand. "you forgot this after class yesterday."

"huh?" your lips part and your eyes blink once, twice, three times before you finally realize what clapton is saying. "oh!" you say finally, still not quite recalling ever abandoning a pen. "thanks," you say sincerely, taking the pen from clapton and using it to write your name at the top of the worksheet that had been handed out. at least you won't have to dig another pen out now.

"sure," clapton says easily, though your focus is now on the equations in front of you rather than the boy next to you.

and for the first time in history, clapton is suddenly compelled to do his work. his eyes glance between you and the way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, your paper, and the textbook the two of you have to share. he flips through, eyes falling on an equation that looks pretty similar to #2. he punches a few numbers into his calculator confidently, sliding it over to you. your focus on your paper breaks, eyebrows slightly raised in confusion again (it's a cute look on you). you look at the calculator to clapton, who has one of his famously lazy smiles on, and back to the calculator. your face relaxes into a small smile.

"thanks," you say softly, ready to write down the answer clapton has presented you before you realize it's clapton davis.

"wait," you shake your head, laughing lightly. "there's no way that's right."

"what?" clapton scoffs lightly, arms on the table and sliding towards you to take a good look at his calculation. "that's totally right."

"clapton, you shouldn't even be getting a decimal," you laugh a little harder now, taking the calculator - his calculator - and clearing his answer. you stare at your paper for a few seconds, biting your lip lightly as clapton simply watches, completely focused on the way your bottom lip springs out from the hold of your teeth. he barely realizes you're stuck until his curious eyes wander down to your fingers and see them hovering over the small buttons of his calculator.

"plus 27," clapton offers, reaching over to hit the respective buttons, fingers lightly grazing yours for just a moment. completely bullshitting.

"how'd you get that?" you ask curiously and too sincerely, forgetting who it was you were talking to. but then clapton grins and shrugs and you roll your eyes, hitting that clear button again - but there's a smile on your face.

"are you trying to sabotage me, clapton?" and clapton remembers exactly how you had completely captivated him earlier - of course you knew his name, but he'd never heard you say it before today.

he wanted to hear it more.

clapton shrugs, leaning back in his seat. "retaking physics wouldn't be so bad if you were my partner again." smooth.

"okay, the school year barely started," you laugh. god, why can't you stop smiling?

clapton leans forward again, crossing his arms on the table and setting his head down on top of them. he doesn't move as you reach into his space to flip the page of the textbook, your arm right up against his, but you don't move either. your arm stays there as you read and try to comprehend whatever it is you're supposed to be learning. clapton doesn't even try to pretend to read, his eyebrows raising as he looks up at you.

you feel warm under clapton's constant gaze, suddenly, weirdly self-conscious. your face is warm and you try, uselessly, to use that pen to direct clapton's attention back to the problem at hand.

"clapton."

"hmm?" clapton hums as you look over, not bothering to look away. he smiles instead at how flustered you seem to be when you avert your eyes (as if you'd been the one who'd been caught staring).

"we have to finish this." you're glancing at the clock. there's a little bit of class left, but everyone else is much further along.

clapton tries not to falter when you say we, picking up his pencil and nodding in agreement. he feels your eyes on him as he scribbles out different numbers in each blank space all the way to #10.

"done," clapton smiles, completely satisfied. he slides on his oversized sunglasses, fingers swiping through the music library on his ipod. he's close enough for you to look over curiously, unable to hold in a laugh as you get a peek of clapton's music choice.

"sting?" you're leaning in closer now, the soft scent of your shampoo reaching clapton's nose.

"uh, yeah. they're like the bruno mars of 1992!"

you laugh again, shaking your head.

"what?" clapton scoffs lightly, smile on his face.

"nothing! nothing, that's just... not the type of music i thought you'd listen to."

clapton chuckles, eyebrows raised, body and attention turned completely towards you. he's holding out one of his wired earbuds for you and you decide that physics worksheet can wait.

it takes a lot of explaining afterwards to try and assure your friends that clapton davis walking you to class (and, in turn, being late to his own), earbuds dangling from both your ears while clapton excitedly explained the cultural significance of sting's fields of gold, did not mean anything. they don't believe you, teasing smiles and curious glances making that obvious.

though, you're not sure you believe yourself, either.

hello i got carried away <;3

please let me know if you'd like me to write more clapton x popular s/o + any specific scenarios!! i love love love pathetic loser men <;3

requests are open! | masterlist