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daisynik7 · 6 months

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Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 1: The First Time

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), nipple play, clitoral stimulation, sex without a condom, creampie, pet names

Summary: Nanami invites you to his place for the first time, where he offers to cook you dinner, which leads to a night of many other firsts.

Author's Notes: I originally wrote these spicy side stories for A Bento For Kento last year and I'm just now getting around to editing/rewriting some of it to match more of my current style! I hope you like it, thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Being inside Nanami’s apartment for the first time makes you nervous for some reason. Maybe it’s the feeling of being in somebody’s personal space that makes you uneasy. You like this man, of course, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. It’s only been two weeks since you started dating. Two weeks since your first and second kiss at the street food festival. With Ren still living with you at home, it’s been difficult to find time to be alone with Nanami.

Until tonight.

He offers to make dinner, which is already such a huge turn on for you. The smell coming from the kitchen is intoxicating. You can’t recall the last time that someone cooked a meal from scratch to serve to you. There’s yearning in the pit of your stomach. Is it hunger caused by the aroma of the food? Or desire for the man currently preparing the food? It’s both, definitely both.

You’re currently sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand, classical music playing on his stereo in the background. You don’t expect anything less from him, already so smitten by the classy Kento Nanami. You sneak a glance at him in the kitchen, admiring the black apron he’s wearing over a blue dress shirt and his usual spotted tie. He looks extremely attractive right now. In fact, he is extremely attractive. Feeling increasingly nervous each passing minute, you chug your liquor before standing up to walk into the kitchen. He takes his focus away from the pan to look at you, asking, “Need anything?”

“I was actually coming here to ask you the same question,” you respond with a small smile.

“I’m almost done. Just want the sauce to thicken up a bit more.” He eyes your empty glass. “Need a refill?”

You hold it out to him, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He pours the bottle, filling it halfway. Without a word, you tip it into your mouth, taking three large gulps to swallow it down. From your peripheral, you catch Nanami watching you curiously.

Why are you freaking out right now? You’re with your boyfriend, who has been nothing but kind, gentle, and sweet to you. But tonight, you are hyper aware that it’s just the two of you, alone inside his swanky apartment, the bedroom just a few feet away.

It’s just dinner, you remind yourself. This doesn’t guarantee that the two of you will have sex tonight. Besides, why are you thinking about sex to begin with? Get your mind out of the gutter. He invited you here for dinner, nothing more. However, there’s no denying that it’s been on your mind. You nearly pounced on him at the street food festival. Every night, you replay the memory of his touch; his gentle hand on your cheek, his warm mouth on yours. How his lips feel against the skin of your wrist. The way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold back. You want to feel that again. You want more.

You’ve seen each other a couple more times after that night, either out in public or at your house with Ren. And with your protective younger brother always keeping an eye out, your goodnight kisses have been tame, a little too tame, if you’re being honest. To say you’ve been eager for this alone time with him is an understatement. Despite this, you can’t help being a tad nervous. Will you two be compatible in the bedroom? Are there any weird kinks he’s into? Is he okay with the kinks that you’re into? These questions won’t be answered all in one night, so there’s no use in stressing about it when sex isn’t even on the table yet. You’re only focus tonight should be to enjoy this delicious home-cooked meal courtesy of your super hot boyfriend and let everything play out the way it should.

“Go ahead and sit. I’ll serve you.” You snap out of your reverie at the sound of his voice and take a seat at the dining table, taking the bottle of wine with you. Soon, he appears with two steaming plates in hand, setting one in front of you and the other at his spot next to you. “Carbonara and garlic bread. This is my favorite meal to cook,” he says, sitting down and filling his glass.

“This smells and looks incredible. I’m so impressed!” you beam at him, eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a huge compliment, coming from you,” he responds, smiling.

“Pasta is not a specialty of mine. You’ll have to teach me one day.”

“Sounds like a good date idea. Let’s plan that soon.”

You twirl your fork around the noodles for the perfect bite. It’s still piping hot off the plate. When it hits your tongue, your taste buds sing. The sauce is perfectly creamy with just the right amount of cheese and pepper flavor. The salt from the crisp bits of pancetta adds enough flavor without being too overpowering. The noodles are al-dente, just the way you like it. Everything together creates a luxurious, well-balanced dish. Even the garlic bread is delicious; he roasted the garlic beforehand, surrounding the apartment with one of your favorite scents. “Delicious. Absolutely delicious. It tastes even better than it looks, and it looks incredible.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating,” he says, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“No, Nanami. It’s seriously amazing. Thank you for cooking this for me.” You take another big forkful, closing your eyes and making small noises of satisfaction. He doesn’t speak, a small smile on his face smile as he eats his own food, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still enjoying the meal. The silence isn’t awkward; it feels comfortable. Both of you indulging in delicious food and great company.

When you’ve scraped your plate clean with your last piece of garlic bread, you finish the rest of your wine, letting out happy sigh as you rub your belly. Nanami finishes soon after and stands up to take the plates into the kitchen. You follow, offering, “Let me wash the dishes! It’s the least I could do after you’ve fed me.”

“I’ll put them in the dishwasher, don’t worry.”

You lean against the countertop, helping him load the dishwasher. After the cycle stars, he steps towards you, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for dinner. Seriously. That was so delicious,” you say, peering up at him.

“You know that I already like you, right?” he chuckles, planting another smooch on you. “You don’t have to keep flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest! That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had! But I’m obviously biased because I already like you too,” you tease, winking. From behind him, you suddenly notice something on his fridge. Curious, you walk up to it. It’s the bento box notes you wrote him, hung up by magnets, each one wrinkled from wear and tear. Smiling, you ask, “You hung them up on your fridge?

He stands beside you, arm brushing yours. “Of course. They keep me going throughout the week.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming at him. “You are the sweetest man, you know that?” You kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you in closer. The fact that he still has those notes, now hung up on his fridge like artwork, makes your heart swell. How is this man even real? And how are you lucky enough to have him as your boyfriend?

He pulls away from the kiss, voice wavering just the slightest. “Should we move to the couch?”

Heat creeps into your face as he leads you into the living room. Is the wine getting to you? Or is it your nerves? You’re the one who initiated the kiss, so why are you surprised that he wants to move it to the couch?! There’s no way he wants to get it on right now; you just ate. Isn’t there a rule about waiting thirty minutes after you eat, or does that only apply to swimming?

You both sit on the catch, knees touching, holding hands. He gazes at you lovingly, even as you try to avoid his gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little distracted.” He brushes your cheek with his thumb, his touch giving you the flutters below your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you lie, totally flustered now.

“Are you sure?” He brings your hand up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles. Oh no, your absolute weakness.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous,” you admit.

“What are you nervous about?”

You let out a timid laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just being weird.”

He stops kissing to study you. “You can be honest with me. Please tell me what’s on your mind.”

Taking a deep breath, you explain, “I want to get some things out in the open. Make sure we’re both on the same page.”

There’s a worried glint in his eyes. “Okay.”

Another deep breath. “So, um. Sex. I want to have sex. With you. Do you…I mean, would you like that, too? Is that, um, something you want to do with me?”

You can see a small grin forming on his lips, but he immediately goes back to a neutral expression to answer, “Yes. Very much so.”

Cheeks burning, you reply, “Okay. That’s…good to know.” You clear your throat before posing the next question. “Have…have you been tested recently? I’m sorry to ask this, I just want to make sure we’re practicing safe sex.”

Calmly, he says, “I got tested two weeks ago as soon as we started dating. Everything is good.” Before you can continue, he adds, “And don’t apologize for asking that. That’s a very valid question.”

You nod, easing up a bit. “I got tested a few months ago when I last saw my gynecologist. And I’m also good. I haven’t had sex since then, so yeah. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as you properly process this conversation. Why were you so anxious? You should have known that talking to Nanami like this would be easy, considering how mature he is.

“Oh! Also, I’m on birth control. Just FYI. In case you were wondering,” you blurt out.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he says, a kind expression on his face. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the way he looks at you.

Finally relaxed, you say, “Okay, I think that’s all I wanted to talk about. Thank you.”

“Thank you for opening up to me.” He places his hand on yours, caressing you with his thumb.

You ask, “Do you have any questions for me?” He shakes his head no. You continue. “I’m sorry if this is awkward. I just want to make sure we go about this the right way.” The fluster on your face is definitely noticeable; there’s no hiding it now.

His smile brightens as he scoots closer to you. “You’re too cute, you know that?”

At that, you let out another giggle, glancing down at your lap, shy for an entirely different reason now.

“I really like you. You have no idea,” he whispers, breath warm on your ear. When did he get so close? Your heart pounds like crazy, enough that he can probably hear it.

Attempting to lighten the mood, you joke, “You still like me after all that interrogation?”

“I think I like you even more now.” There’s lust dripping in his voice. “Can I kiss you?”

Without saying another word, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss starts slow and gentle. His hand cups your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, reminding you vividly of your first kiss. How the sounds of the festival were drowned out by the thumping of your heartbeat. Now, the classical music playing in the background is muted by the wet noises your lips make against Nanami’s mouth. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers dangerously close to the arousal between your legs. The first time, he was holding back. This time, he’s not. He wants you.

He pulls your head back gently, lips trailing down your neck, sucking on your skin where it’s most sensitive. As if he knows exactly where to touch you to stimulate every nerve in your body. He slides under your blouse, fingers grazing the bulge of your belly. Feeling insecure, you grab his wrist and push his hand away. He stops to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…I just ate, so I’m a bit bloated,” you confess. “Feeling a little self-conscious.”

With another kind expression, he says, “I understand. I won’t touch you there.” He returns to your thigh, kissing your neck once more, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “You are beautiful. I hope one day you’ll let me worship every part of your gorgeous body.”

Your insecurity is quickly overtaken by the need to feel him on every inch of your bare skin. Without thinking, you take his hand and slip it beneath your blouse, allowing him to touch you there now. Why did you even bother trying to resist him?

He laughs softly. “Good girl.”

Hearing him utter those words as he touches has your pussy throbbing. There’s nothing else on your mind except feeling him all over you. Feeling him inside you. He squeezes your breast, his thumb flicking your nipple over the fabric of your bra.

“Want to move into the bedroom?”

Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

~~~

Fingers entwined with hers, he takes her into his room, watching as she lies on his king-sized bed. He straddles her, hands at the hem of her shirt. “Can I undress you?”

She nods, sitting up to help him strip her, her upper body exposed except for the bra covering her breasts. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable; he can tell she’s a bit nervous, despite the obvious desire in her eyes. Most importantly, he wants this to be an enjoyable experience. “Is it okay if I take your bra off?”

She gulps loudly before breathing out, “Yes.”

He wraps his arms around her, fingers grasping for the clasp. She kisses him hastily, lightly nipping at his lower lip, his dick growing stiffer inside his pants. She reaches for him, palming his strained cock until he’s uncomfortable hard against the fabric. When her bra finally comes lose, he tugs it off her body, tossing it to the floor, admiring her bare bosom.

“Can I suck on your nipples?” he huffs, his patience wearing thin. “Do you like that?”

“Yes, I really like that.”

She really likes it, she says. Good to know. He squeezes her breast, sucking on her nipple. His free hand massages the other, pinching it lightly until he it’s perky against his fingertips. He circles his thumb around it as he continues to work her tits, making lewd noises as he releases her with a wet pop, only to latch onto her again, sucking harder. She moans, his cock twitching with every erotic sound that comes out of her salacious mouth.

Nipple plump on his tongue, he moves to the other one, sucking until she squirms beneath him, whimpering in pleasure. Still completely clothed, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt, stripping until he’s naked from the waist up. Her fingers trail his abs, then down to the skin right above the hem of his pants. Once she unbuckles his belt, he slides out of his pants until he is clad only in his briefs, her focus on the obvious bulge protruding from his underwear. She undresses, keeping just her panties on. He leans over to kiss her passionately, letting his hands explore her body freely, cherishing every soft curve of her glorious figure.

He’s been dreaming about this. Ever since their first kiss, he’s thought about her every night. The way she tastes on his lips. How soft her skin is on his rough hands. He would fantasize about the different positions they would try, the sounds she would make if he ever got the chance to pleasure her. Every second they spend together, his feelings for her grow stronger and stronger. He’s never felt like this with anyone else. That’s why he doesn’t want to screw it up. He wants nothing more than to pleasure her, make her feel comfortable and safe with him.

He breaks away to catch his breath. “Is this okay?”

She smiles, cupping his cheek. “Yes. This is more than okay.”

“We don’t have to go any further, we can stop here,” he suggests. He really doesn’t want to, but he will if she does.

“Do you want to stop?” There’s a naughty look in her eyes, as if she’s teasing him.

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

Electricity surges through his body, ready to burst. His fingers reach for her panties, rubbing her clit through the cloth. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes, Nanami. Fuck.”

His cock twitches at the sound of her cursing. This is one his fantasies, hearing filthy words come out her sweet, innocent mouth. He slips his middle finger past the fabric, sliding it up and down her wet folds, circling her clit, cock rigid underneath his briefs. Feeling her like this is better than he ever imagined. A dream come true.

“Show me. I want to see how big you are for me,” she purrs into his ear.

His eyes widen at her suggestion. Fuck. He won’t be able to last if she keeps saying things like this in her sexy voice. He shoves his briefs down his thighs, letting his hard cock flop against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Nanami. You’re so big. Can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Losing his composure, he mutters, “Fuck, baby. Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

He lets out a huff. “Okay. I can’t believe we’re really doing this.” He reaches for his nightstand, grabbing a condom and lube from the drawer. When she sees him opening the packet, she grabs his wrist. “You don’t have to put that on. I’m on birth control, remember?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck.” He pours lube onto his palm, stroking his erection. She watches hungrily as he positions himself at her wet slit, guiding it in smoothly, her pussy clenching him every inch he slides in. When he bottoms out, he stays still, waiting for her body to adjust to his size. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He thrusts slowly, savoring how incredible she feels around him. It takes everything in his willpower not to come yet. She wraps her legs around his waist, arms linked behind his neck. That beautiful smile flashes across her face, making him tingly all over his body. He really likes her.

His pace picks up, drawing out small moans from her sweet lips. He’s close, but he wants to make her orgasm first. He reaches down to rub her puffy clit with his thumb, the sudden sensation causing her to buck up towards him. Her reaction encourages him to thrust into her faster, moving his thumb relentlessly over the sensitive spot.

“Fuck, Nanami. I’m going to come,” she whimpers.

“Come for me, princess. Come all over my cock.”

She tightens, her body squeezing him until she climaxes. After her high, she relaxes her grip on him, eyes glazed over, grinning. When he tries to pull out, she stops him. “Don’t. Keep going until you come. Please.”

It doesn’t take long; he thrusts into her a few more times until he releases inside her, filling her up. As he pulls out, cum drips out of her slit, an erotic sight he’ll never tire of seeing. He collapses beside her, steadying his breath. She turns to him, sliding her arm over his chest, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Cuddling closer to her, he whispers, “Thank you.”

She laughs. “Thank you, too.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, the silence comfortable, their bodies cozy snuggled together. Before they end up falling asleep, Nanami sits up and announces, “I’ll be back.” He disappears into the bathroom, rummaging his cupboard for the unscented baby wipes he bought a few days ago. When he returns, he crawls back in bed next to his girlfriend and takes out a few wipes.

“Wow, you’re so prepared!” she exclaims, taking the wipes from him to clean herself.

“I figured these would be good to have, just in case. If you want, we can take a shower together before we sleep. You can wear my clothes.”

“I can’t sleep over. Ren is going to freak out if I don’t come home.”

Slightly disappointed, he responds, “Oh, okay.”

Sensing this, she kisses him on the cheek. “I promise. Next time, I will sleep over. Just gotta get Ren’s approval first.”

“You’re such a good sister,” he smirks.

“And when Ren moves into the dorms in a couple of weeks, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want.”

“I’d like that.”

After she’s cleaned up, she changes back into her clothes. Nanami puts on a new pair of clean briefs to walk her to the door. “Call me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will.”

They hug each other tightly before saying goodbye. Exhausted from his orgasm, Nanami goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for sleep. As he lies in bed, under the very blanket they just had sex on, he moves his head to the pillow. The one she was sprawled out on as he made her come. He takes a deep breath with his nose pressed against it, inhaling her sweet scent. He feels his arousal growing beneath his briefs, thinking about the way his cum trickled out of her.

He smiles to himself, reaching down to stroke his hard cock, realizing he doesn’t have to go off fantasies anymore.

Taglist: @chiyoso

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sweet like honey #a bento for kento

1K notes · View notes

vampcubus · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

a/n: i had to… I HAD TO THE BRAINROT TOOK HOLD OF ME. still getting used to writing for these boys so bear with me.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : inosuke, zenitsu, tanjiro, kyojuro, and tengen (feat. tengen’s wives)

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : light nsfw, spicy in places.

𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐀

— HE GETS IT!! literally the best person for the job. you will not be disappointed because that’s his love language too!!

— The moment you suggest wanting to play fight he is tackling you to the ground full force because he was waiting for you to say that!!

— He loves it!! The cute aggression he gets around you can finally be satiated. He’s on cloud nine rolling around with you, trying his damnedest to get you in a headlock just to feel you kick your feet in protest.

— You’ll have to remind him to ease his grip and the strength he uses to toss you around, but he’s a pretty quick study!

— You’ll really have to try to be able to pin him however, he’s as flexible as he is strong and determined to flip you on your back and proclaim his “inevitable victory” you can imagine his surprise (and heart eyes) when you’re craftier than he anticipated and manage to not only keep up with this enthusiasm but BEAT HIM.

— Soon as that happens though he’s less interested in fighting and more interested in wrenching his mask off so he can crush his lips to yours.

— You will never be safe after that first time you roughhouse with him, any time he gets that giddy feeling in his chest around you he just pounces. It is kind of your fault for conditioning him to express his affection that way.

— You may want to explain it to your friends however because Tanjiro is BEYOND confused. You two were having a profound moment why are you wrestling??? 😭 Zenitsu is having a freakout, trying to pry the boar man off you whilst screaming “YOU ANIMAL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO Y/N-CHAN!?” (though once zen’s been briefed he is immensely jealous)

— Inosuke gets suspicious if you aren’t fighting back with your usual enthusiasm. Are you sick? mad at him? injured? He’ll get restless if you haven’t been in the mood for it lately because what do you mean you don’t want to wrestle??? >:(( don’t u love him???

— Inosuke doesn’t want to actually hurt you, of course, he knows the difference between a cry of delight and one of pain. If you make a sound implying the latter he’ll stop and check-in.

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— I’ll be honest he doesn’t really understand it 😭 you’re supposed to be madly in love why do you want to fight? most of your attempts will be one-sided, the most fight you’ll get out of him is playful swatting.

— He’s also easily distracted by physical contact, so the moment you straddle his hips in an attempt to get the upper hand (which you’ll most likely already have, he really doesn’t have the heart to put it up much of a struggle) he’s melting into a puddle, hands coming to your thighs to drum absentmindedly on them—which in turn distracts you. It’s so hard to get mad at him for it too when he peers up at you with that lovestruck puppy look through thick blond lashes.

— Zenitsu definitely prefers a more “aggressive cuddling” approach than actual roughhousing, like tackling the other to the ground for some spirited nuzzling. And maybe some light-hearted games of footsie or lazily shoving at one another’s hands to see who’s stronger.

— Doesn’t help that he’s incredibly horny all the time and pinning him down just makes him feel hot, so now you’ve got that to deal with.

— Zenitsu loves to play up the drama of it, the back of his hand pressed wistfully to his forehead as if he’s feeling faint as he performatively exclaims “Oh, be gentle with me, Y/n-chan~!“

— That usually gets you to back off with a huff of annoyance and heat in your cheeks, knowing he’d formulated the perfect foil to your cute aggression. The best way to fend you off was to make it weird.

— Putting him in a headlock just means he has an excuse to nuzzle his face against your chest, jostle him too hard and you’ll just make him cry.

— Deep down he thinks it’s a bit endearing, it’s just a love language you don’t share and that’s ok. He’ll let you rough him up, just don’t expect the same treatment.

— To that end, you’re better off taking out your aggression on demons </3

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— You’ll have to explain it to him for him to wrap his head around it, but he’s pretty open to it! He grew up with many siblings and they liked to playfully wrestle with him sometimes, he just never imagined doing something like that with you! Especially since he’s such a gentle soul and can’t imagine wanting to hurt you in any way.

— He really tries to match your enthusiasm, but all of his playful shoves and swats always end up softer than necessary.

— Checks in constantly! “That wasn’t too rough was it?” “That didn’t hurt right?” “Ah, did I get carried away? 🥺” like bb calm down you’re doing great.

— Once he’s used to your habits he can’t help but anticipate your next sneak attack, biting his lip to conceal a smile when he notices you ready to pounce from the corner of his eye. You may think you’ve caught him unawares but he often can smell or hear your approach, but he loves to pretend anyways, just to see that triumphant grin on your face when you jump onto his back.

— Oftentimes your playful wrestling is interspersed with gentle touches. You just look so cute when you’re determined and he can’t help but caress your face in the moment <3 (he’s so soft pls i’d be crying)

— Nezuko watches the two of you play a lot and you can tell she wants to join in so sometimes you tag her in to fight at your side!!! Tanjiro is laughing so hard he can hardly breathe, overwhelmed with joy as the two most important people in his life put him through his paces.

— While he definitely prefers to express his affection in softer ways, he learns to love roughhousing with you. He knows that you only do it because you want to be close and because you trust him, and he’s content with that.

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— When you first express your desire to play fight all you’ll get is a puzzled tilt of his head in return. He’ll genuinely ask you why, and when instead of explaining you get flustered he is suddenly very intrigued.

“I must confess I do enjoy that expression on your face, little flame!” (If you know you know) he all but announces to half the compound, which has your entire face boiling with embarrassment. Seeing his comment has only extended your distress, his eyes soften fondly. “Take your time.”

The best answer your monkey brain can conjure is “because I love you!” blurted out in a hurry, startling a few nearby birds into flight. No one’s quite as startled as Kyojuro however, whose face is now equally ablaze at your confession.

“And I want to be close to you,” you added, fighting through the early relationship jitters to get your point across. The best way to a healthy relationship is through communication, right? After all, Kyojuro had no right to be so damned cute all the time. It made you want to wrestle him into an embrace every time he said something unintentionally endearing—which was often!

“I think I understand!”

— Honestly, he’s a natural at it. He knows his own strength and how much he can use when tussling with you without causing any real harm. Even if you really wouldn’t mind a few token bruises to remember those silly moments by.

— He’s a little nervous at first, he did grow up with a brother but Senjuro had always been gentle in his affections towards him. Though as soon as he sees just how much fun you’re having he’s absolutely on board! Enamored when you can’t help but giggle as you’re rolling out of reach, lunging for his sides, and jumping onto his back in an attempt to bring him to the ground.

— Most of the time between efforts of fending off your playful shoving he’s nuzzling against you, trailing kisses wherever he can reach. Laughing heartily along with you as he all too easily weakens you by attacking your sides with incessant tickling until you’re wheezing so hard you can hardly breathe.

— He rarely initiates roughhousing, but he will never deny you. It’s a great way to lift his spirits when he’s feeling down. It’s a rare occurrence, but he appreciates those small gestures the most. Close proximity and your beautiful laugh? What more could he want?

— He now knows your desire to roughhouse is a sign of affection, so he cherishes being able to let loose and play with you. Though most of the time neither of you is concerned about winning. Your playfights all too easily turn into spirited cuddling. (He’s just so loving and I- *sobs*)

— Until you decide to test some newfound strength and surprise him by flipping him flat on his back with his hands pinned to the ground. Now… now it’s different, a different kind of longing in those bright golden eyes you’ve grown to adore. One of blatant heat and desire. He always desires you but especially so when you assert yourself.

— Does this lead to you desperately rutting against one another and tearing at your clothing? Couldn’t say. (Absolutely)

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐈

— He thinks it’s adorable that you want to roughhouse with him and will actually encourage you to try! He’s so disrespectful about it though 😭 can hold your attacks at bay with a single hand over your face. Likes to egg you on until you really want to smack him and then acts surprised when you slip out of his grip and head butt his chest full force.

“Why you little…”

— Now the game is on! Prepare to roll around struggling for the upper hand until he feels he’s put you in your place! Instead of being discouraged by your loss, you’re more determined to win the next round.

— His instincts are razor sharp so don’t think you’ll ever truly get the jump on him with a sneak attack, even when he looks to be none the wiser. He always knows you’re there and foils your plans at the last second :(((

— You can usually get Suma and Makio in on the action and get him rumbling with laughter as you all wrestle in a pile.

— Hinatsuru prefers to watch with a soft expression as her lovers fight and then crawl into the cuddle pile that follows as the four of you are gasping for breath. Suma always claims a place at your side afterward so she can whisper new schemes into your ear <3 she’s your partner in crime.

— Tengen could likely fend the four of you off all at once if you ever did convince Hina to join, but he loves the triumphant cheers you make when he admits defeat.

— Now if you just so happen to have even greater strength than him? He’s shutting up so fast cus please toss him around and rough him up a bit, I’m telling you he gets off on that shit—especially if you’re being “flashy” about it. Probably goes without saying that your roughhousing often turns into something else.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #inosuke hashibira x reader #inosuke x reader #zenitsu agatsuma x reader #zenitsu x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #tengen uzui x reader #tengen x reader #tengen x wives x reader #kny headcanons #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons

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moonchildstyles · 1 month

Note

Do you think you could write a blurb where witch! Harry is finally comfortable w Mitch and his friends so one night when they’re all out together Including Sarah and y/n, Harry doesn’t really pay as much attention to y/n as he usually does, and y/n becomes more clingy than usual and it makes Harry happy 🥺🥺

this is a little different than the exact request but I hope you enjoy!! thank you for sending this in:)

wordcount: 4k+

—————

Fiddling with his fingers in his lap, Harry watched as (Y/N) readied herself at her vanity. He wanted to be distracted by the sweeps of cosmetics across her skin or the flutter of her lashes as she dusted sparkles over her eyes, but he knew it was a losing battle. He'd already spent all of his distractions when he conjured up his outfit and fussed over his own hair in the mirror. His nervous hands had prepped him too early, leaving him with way more time available than he needed.

"You know," (Y/N) started, catching his gaze in the reflection, "we don't have to go tonight if you don't want to. We can stay here and relax or go back to yours and cuddle with the girls. I don't mind."

There was a split second where he considered her offer, folding his bottom lip between his teeth before he thought better of his indecision. (Y/N) had agreed to these plans earlier in the week and was almost done with her makeup already, there was no way he was going to let her cancel on his account.

"No, I want to go," he insisted, matching her gaze though he figured he looked about as convincing as he felt, "I know I'll have fun, 's jus'... You know."

A gentle smile touched the corners of his lover's lips. "I know," she assured, "We'll have fun once we get out there. This is the hard part."

He gave a quiet nod in agreement. It was easier to stay home with her and luxuriate in the familiar, but he was trying to grow himself into a member of the world once more. Besides, Sarah's boyfriend, Mitch, was supposed to be there tonight with a couple of the others he'd met a few months back. As long as he found his space in that group again, he'd be able to make it through.

Worst case scenario, he'd cling to (Y/N), say the word, and they'd be on their way home before he had a chance to crawl out of his skin.

This was going to be good for him, he reminded himself as he continued watching (Y/N) through the mirror.

He was going to have fun tonight. Probably.

—————

With his fingers laced between hers, Harry followed (Y/N) into the restaurant. The plan tonight was to go to dinner before heading to some of the bars downtown as some kind of informal celebration for Sarah's upcoming birthday. (Y/N) had gently let Sarah and Mitch know to go ahead without her and Harry (it was a small ruse to allow her some extra time to get ready and Harry an extra moment in the quiet apartment before braving the world), leaving them to be one of the last to arrive.

The restaurant was loud and crowded, tables packed with chairs and bubbly patrons. The bar was busy, both servers and guests seated on the stools keeping the bartenders busy with plenty of orders. Fresh pizzas were being fired in the brick oven that worked as the centerpiece of the establishment, though there were plenty of spicy, greasy bar staples flooding out of the kitchen.

As much as Harry worried over these kinds of outings, still on unsure footing when it came to the world outside of his bubble, the energy of this place fed him. Though it was a different kind of feeling compared to the hazy parties of the seventies that he was so ingrained in, this wasn't that far off from what he had been so accustomed to in the past (there were decidedly less drugs here, and more decency but that's besides the point). He could feel eyes trailing after him when he walked past, his stride bringing attention to the glimmering threads of his clothing and the woman on his arm.

"Hey, guys!" (Y/N) greeted as they approached the table in the back the hostess had directed them to. On either side of the long table, faces turned to the sound of (Y/N)'s voice. Harry recognized the majority of them, though there were a few unfamiliar faces that he was both eager and nervous to meet.

"You made it!" Sarah cheered, Mitch at her side with his own usually stoic features shifting into a smile when he caught Harry's eye.

"Yeah, sorry," (Y/N) started, leading Harry down to the two free spots at the end of the bench seating, across from Mitch and Sarah and next to a familiar head of bleached hair he'd met at the concert night a few months ago. "The Uber took the weirdest way, and then hit traffic. I don't know what he was trying to do."

Sarah shrugged and rolled her eyes as if this was a story she'd lived through just as many times herself.

(Y/N) took the spot next to the semi-unfamiliar couple, leaving Harry on the very end of the bench without any extra neighbors. She and Sarah took up another avenue of conversation, others beginning to jump in now that the party could truly start with all guests in attendance. He held her hand tight in his lap, his attention drifting this way and that as more and more color and noise and new caught his eye.

"Have you ever been here before, Harry?" Mitch asked from across the table, centering his wandering attention.

"No, this is m'first time," Harry offered, a small smile on his lips. He felt a bit better knowing that Mitch was here—next to (Y/N), he was one of the only people he felt comfortable with.

"Really?" Mitch sounded, his brows rising, "Don't you work around here, now? At that one music store?"

Harry eagerly nodded to the question. He loved talking about his job—he loved spending so much time around music and the extra money that came with it was very exciting.

"I do, yeah," he smiled, "Have y'ever been there before? You'd love it."

Mitch matched Harry's smile with his own grin, taking a sip from his drink with a slow shake of his head. "I haven't, but I might have to come see you sometime. Friends and family discount, right?"

Letting out a laugh, Harry nodded his head. He really hoped Mitch meant it when he said he'd come visit—he wasn't sure how to add discounts yet to the register, but he'd make sure his friend got whatever he wanted when he came by.

As Mitch started on a new avenue of conversation, Harry relaxed further the longer the night went on, feeling less and less of the anxiety that he left the house with. He felt thoroughly distracted—comfortable, even, when the semi-familiar man (Kid, he thinks was their nickname) on (Y/N)'s other side piped into his and Mitch's conversation. The edge he had been standing on slowly dulled until he was laughing loudly and settling into his skin the way he used to back in the day.

Once ordered, drinks and dinner were delivered to the table. Honestly, Harry almost wanted to speed through his meal knowing that the rest of the plans for the night were to head to a bar down the plaza, leaving more room to hang out with his friends. He was having too much fun to waste time like this. Under the table, (Y/N)'s hand was settled on his thigh, turning palm up once he attempted to wiggle his fingers between hers.

Looking up at her, his hand loaded with a slice of plain cheese pizza, he saw her looking at him with a raised brow.

"Feeling better?" she murmured to him, the others around them distracted by their own food to listen in.

A small smile was on Harry's lips as he nodded his head. "Yeah, a lot. I forget how nice everyone is."

"And, how much they like you," (Y/N) added, "I'm happy you're feeling better, though. Do you still want to go to the bars with everyone after?" His eager nod had to be enough of an answer with the way she let out a huff of laughter, her hand squeezing his under the table. "Okay," she smiled, "Just wanted to double check."

Tipping her chin, (Y/N) puckered her lips just enough to draw him in for a short kiss. Harry felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, even if the contact was nothing more than a small peck on his mouth. The vine tethering the chambers of his heart to hers pulsed, urging him to stay close to her.

"Thank you," he murmured, blinking up at her through the fan of his lashes.

"For what?" she asked, nudging him, their private moment drawing on long enough to catch the attention of Sarah across the table. Her eyes softened as she glanced at them.

"Taking me tonight," he answered, keeping his voice low. If Sarah could watch, he just hoped she couldn't hear every word. "I know 'm a lot sometimes—thank you for still wanting to bring me even if I wasn't sure."

She tipped her head, eyes fond and tender to match the smile on her lips. "Of course, H. You don't really have much of a choice, though—you're my soulmate, you pretty much have to come with me."

He knew she was trying to joke with him, get him to laugh the same way she realized her own plume of laughter, but he liked hearing her call him her soulmate to do anything more than surge forward for another kiss.

—————

(Y/N) with Sarah and some of the other women at her side, didn't take much time before getting their first round of drinks to indulge in the dance floor of the bar, cheering in celebration of Sarah's birthday. Harry, along with Mitch and the rest of the few that didn't want to brave the sweaty congregation all hung back, drinks in hand with a table luckily claimed along the back of the bar.

More often than not, he had his eyes on (Y/N), watching her like she was a bubble of sunshine in the middle of the dance floor. He could hear her laughter, see her dancing with her friends, and practically feel the beam of her happiness even sitting so far off. Mitch was much like him, watching his own girlfriend as she celebrated her birthday, a fond smile on his lips.

The third time Harry caught him gazing with hearts in his eyes towards Sarah and the bobbing ponytail on her head, he asked, "How long have y'and Sarah been together?"

Mitch blinked his eyes away from the dance floor, Kid at his side jostling him as he laughed with his own companion. "Hm?" Mitch hummed, taking a sip from his beer as he plugged into the moment once more.

Harry knew the feeling well: what it was like to forget the rest of the details around him when he had his eyes on his sunshine. Chin in his palm with his elbow resting on the table, Harry let a small smile sit on his lips. "I asked how long you and Sarah have been together."

"Oh, sorry," Mitch offered, sheepishly clearing his throat, "We've been together for a little over three years, now."

"Wow," Harry awed, the romantic inside him sinking at the thought of having that much time with (Y/N) at his side. "How did y'meet?"

Only having time to open his mouth to take in a breath before his story, Mitch was cut off when Kid butted in. His eyes were a bit glassy thanks to the alcohol in his system, but his words were clear when he interjected: "I set them up!"

Kid's partner—Jenny—laughed at his insistence, especially when Mitch rolled his eyes though he couldn't completely stave off the amusement on his features.

"Barely," Mitch countered, voice a petulant mumble when he looked back at Harry, "He just happened to know the both of us, but he didn't set us up."

"Was I not the one that invited both of you to my birthday party?"

Harry sat back, drink in hand, as he watched the light-hearted argument. It felt nice to be sitting among friends for the first time in decades, learning tidbits about their lives and finding where he fit in within the dynamic. (Y/N) was his heart and soul, everything that made his existence feel purposeful, but this was a facet of his life he hadn't realized he was craving so badly until it was offered to him.

"Harry, don't you think that qualifies as a set up?"

Perking up at the sound of his name, he plugged into the conversation once more, only to have three pairs of eyes waiting on him. Both Jenny and Mitch held amusement in their gazes though Kid seemed terribly serious with his request for backup.

Unable to help himself, Harry had to prod.

"Well," he started, breathing in a sigh as he laid his forearms out on the table, "How long after your birthday did they go on a real date?"

It was the chatter that started almost immediately after he finished speaking that had Harry smiling into the rim of his own cup, pretending to sip as he took it all in.

—————

With sweat sticking her baby hairs to her temples and slicking down her back, (Y/N) practically stumbled after Sarah as they drifted from the dance floor. The few others that had paraded out there with them stayed behind for the rest of the song, while Sarah had insisted that she needed another drink before she could dance any longer. Sweaty hands pressed palm to palm, (Y/N) followed her out in the semi-fresh air of the rest of the bar now that they weren't tucked between the rest of the patrons on the dance floor. It was suddenly sobering to be out of the crowd, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling the effects of the cocktail from dinner and the celebratory shots they took once stepping into the bar.

With Sarah leading her to the bar, (Y/N) traced her eyes through the space, knowing Harry was around somewhere but she was a touch too intoxicated to rely on the tether between them. She found him, a bright sunshiney yellow spot, tucked at the end of the booth next to Mitch with Jenny and Kid laughing along to whatever it was that Harry was saying. It was silly to her, as she took in the moment, just how nervous he had been before leaving, worrying over not fitting in, doing nothing but clinging to her side, not having fun, to now being the center of attention. It was just as she figured it would be—no one was immune to his presence.

Tugging her forward, (Y/N) went along with Sarah to the bar until they had fought through the two-deep crowd to the counter. Sarah didn't need to ask what she wanted, instead slurring out an order of two fruity cocktails with a drunken declaration that it was her birthday. Over her shoulder, (Y/N) could see the bartender laughing at Sarah's excitement, though that information would surely garner them a discount anyway.

Once their drinks were in hand, Sarah didn't waste time before putting the straw between her lips and gulping down the drink. "Let's go say hi, then we'll go back!" she shouted over the music after taking down the mouthful of juice and vodka, gesturing towards their claimed table with the rest of their party.

Nodding with her own straw between her lips, (Y/N) was more than happy to take a break and see her soulmate before heading back into the sweaty throng of people.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but making it to the table was quick enough and well worth the small spill she made on her shoes when she saw Harry's face light up when he caught sight of her. Whatever story he had been in the middle was put on pause when the pair of them made it to the table, Harry opening his arms for her to fall into. Mitch as well looked amused to see his mumbling girlfriend, a familiar glimmer in his eyes when he took her in.

"Hi, you," Harry murmured, taking a hold of (Y/N)'s drink and setting it on the stable table. "How are y'feeling, sunshine?"

"I'm good," she smiled, languidly draping her arms over his shoulders as she fought the urge to climb on his lap instead, "Kind of drunk, I think, though. Are you having fun?"

Dimples deep in his cheeks, dots of glitter shimmering on his cheekbones, he looked to her with tenderness coating his gaze. "'M having a lot of fun, sunshine. Are you?"

"Mhm," she hummed, unable to hold back from pressing a clumsy kiss to the corner of his mouth, "But I feel like I've barely seen you tonight. You said you were gonna come dance with me."

"Sorry, love," he crooned, smiling despite the pout on her own lips, "Jus' got a little distracted, but you know 'm right here if y'need me."

"Yeah," she sighed, drooping like some long-suffering spouse, "But, I've missed my soulmate—I know you're right here, but it's not the same. You're too busy with your friends."

Her petulance only pulled a plume of laughter from him, even if there was something decidedly softer than before in his eyes. "You're still m'best friend, love, you know that. Jus' wanted to let y'have your fun, then I was going to bother y'the rest of the night."

"You never bother me," she countered, canting her head.

It was Harry's turn to tip his chin and press a kiss to her lips, though this contact was much more coordinated than her previous attempt. (Y/N) sunk into the contact, allowing Harry to hold her steady just before there was a call of her name from Sarah.

"Hm?" she asked, pulling away from Harry with her lipgloss surely missing from her mouth though it now sparkled on Harry's.

"We need to go back," she bubbled, taking her half-finished drink with Mitch looking on with a poorly hidden smile. "Listen to the song! We need to go out there!"

Tuning into the moment once more, (Y/N) took note of the bright notes filtering through the bar. It took only a quick look over her shoulder to see the familiar bobbing heads of the friends they had left behind to get their drinks, one of the girls catching sight of Sarah and beckoning them back to the floor.

"Go have fun, sunshine," Harry murmured, giving her a pat on the small of her back as if to send her off.

That seemed to be all the encouragement needed for Sarah to grab a hold of (Y/N)'s hand and take her back towards the floor. Drink in hand, (Y/N) made a point to look back to Harry and give him a small wave goodbye for the moment. His smile only widened when she did.

—————

"I love you."

Despite the sweet declaration, Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He tightened his grip on (Y/N) as she draped herself over him in the backseat of their Uber (a concept he thoroughly struggled with until Mitch helped him both understand it as well as order one).

"I love you too, sunshine," Harry murmured back for the third time in the span of five minutes.

"Nooo," she moaned, curling into him as if she weren't practically on his lap already, "You don't get it, H. I love you—like, love you."

His heart warmed even when she slurred over her words, the night dancing and drinking catching up to her finally. He wondered what their driver thought, listening into this drunken conversation.

"I love love you, too, (Y/N). I—"

"Why would you say that to me?" she cried, cutting him off drawing away from him with offense written all over her features.

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Harry caught their driver attempting to hold back her smile before focusing back on the road before her. As a quiet favor, she turned up the radio just a hair more, an offer of privacy.

"Why would I say what?" Harry crooned, unsure of how his love for her could cause her to feel so upset.

"You called me by my name. Why would you do that? You never call me by my name, are you mad at me?"

It took all he had in him to keep from laughing at her distress. He hadn't meant to upset her, he had hoped by saying her name she would see he was just as serious as she was. His arm looped around her middle kept her steady at his side.

"Of course, 'm not mad at you, love," he cooed, erring on the side of caution with his voice terribly gentle, "Jus' wasn't thinking, I guess. I love love you, sunshine."

His amendment seemed to be just enough to placate (Y/N) once more, drawing him into her with a blissed smile.

"I love you more than anything, honey," she told him once more, back on track with her declarations, "I don't tell you enough, but I do. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and it's crazy that we could've never met if you didn't decide to live up in the mountain and do all your witchy stuff and—"

"Oh, love," Harry cut her off before she could say much more about whatever witchy stuff he's got up to. Even with that, hearing her say she loves him more than anything in the world was enough to have his skin pinkening and warming. "You're my favorite person, you know that. Love you, so much."

Before (Y/N) could try to argue anymore, declare her love for him to be the biggest (which was not true, because he loved her more), the car came to a stop at (Y/N)'s apartment building.

"Here you are," their driver declared, peeking through the rearview mirror.

"Thank you," Harry smiled, the curl widening when (Y/N) seconded him with a bright chirping Mhm!

"You're welcome," their driver smiled, "Have a nice rest of your night, you two."

"We will!" (Y/N) brightly answered, struggling to get her seatbelt off.

After helping her out, Harry collected (Y/N) in his arms and kept her steady when she stepped out on the sidewalk. She gave a final wave to their driver before clinging to Harry as he led her towards the building.

"I had so much fun tonight, Harry," (Y/N) drawled, hanging off of him as he entered all the codes to get inside the building, her eyes warming the line of his profile. "Thank you for coming with me and taking care of me."

"Thank you for bringing me with you," he said, parroting the sentiment from dinner.

As he listened into her babblings as he took her up to her apartment, Harry felt his heart bloom like the petals in his garden. He'd had a perfect night, truthfully. While these were still people he had met through (Y/N), it didn't feel like he had spent the night with people putting up with him because of who his soulmate was. He felt like he had spent the night with his own friends, the kind that would have been a part of his hazy memories from the seventies, full of laughter and silly conversation.

All for him to end the night with the love of his life.

"I had a lot of fun tonight too, sunshine," he crooned to her, getting her safe inside the apartment once more. "I love you."

"But, Harry, you don't get it."

He could only laugh as he led her to her bedroom. He knew she would be arguing with him over the rest of the night.

Harry couldn't be happier.

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!!

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aphroditeinthesea · 1 month

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“ lipstick on your face (so it goes) ”

leo valdez x female!reader 🔨

leo realizes the power of makeup

⚠️ makeout, slightly spicy

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“Can I do your makeup?”

He looked up at her from what he was currently working on, “what?”

“Come on,” she frustratedly threw her head back, “I’m bored and you’re pretty.”

He smirked, “I am pretty,” he sighed as he stretched out his arms.

She raised her eyebrow, leaning closer to him from the chair she was sitting on, “so you’ll let me?”

He stayed silent for a minute. He looked away, then back at her.

“No one else will see it!”

“My siblings-“

“I love you.”

“Why would you say that?!” He laughed. He slid his hands down his face, “you can do my makeup,” he finally caved in.

Her smile grew, “I’ll be right back,” and with that, she pecked his lips before running out the door.

Minutes later, she came back holding a pink sparkly bag, that Leo could only compare to a lunchbox. She placed the bag on the table next to his tools.

“I‘ll start with concealer,” she began, grabbing a small bottle that was so not his shade.

“Babe,” he laughed, “I don’t think that’ll work.”

She rolled her eyes, placing dots under each of his eyes, “you’ll live.” She grabbed an eyeshadow palette next. As she opened it, he swore it smelled like vanilla frosting, “what color do you want?”

He glanced at the palette, “f/c,” he answered, looking back at her again. Did he really care for that color? Not until he met her.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“You love that color and I love you, so it’s perfect,” he smiled.

She felt her heartbeat slightly pick up speed as she watched his lips. She grabbed the brush, blending the color onto his eyelid. She tightly held onto his jaw to make sure he didn’t move.

She stood back, tilting her head as though she were examining a painting. She nodded to herself before taking out a black tube.

“No way.”

She giggled, “what? Are you scared?”

He shook his head, “I just know you don’t have the steadiest hands.”

“You can trust me,” she tried to convince him. She opened the tube and straddled his lap to get a better view of his eye, “it would, you know, accentuate your already amazing eye shape.”

He held onto her hips to steady her, “you need to stop flattering me,” he joked.

She bit her lip as she smiled. She leaned into him, beginning to brush the liner onto his eye.

He couldn’t help but pay all his attention to her bubblegum scented breath fanning his face. His eyes twitched slightly, but he overall was too distracted by trying not just throw her onto the table and kiss her lips right then and there.

She screwed the cap back onto the eyeliner, placing it back in the bag, “that’s all done at least,” she turned back to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Is that all?” He questioned as his thumbs traced circles on her hips.

She paused for a minute, “one more thing.” She leaned back, pulling out a lip gloss. He puckered his lips as he thought she was about apply it to him. But instead, she glossed her own lips before putting the gloss away.

Before he had a chance to question her, his lips were taken over by the warmth of her own. He fell into the kiss as his eyes closed. He could feel the stickiness of the gloss being transferred to his mouth but he couldn’t have cared less, because all he cared about right now was pulling her as close to him as possible. His hands traveled down her body which made her press further into him.

She took her lips away for only a second so she could whisper, “you really are pretty,” she moved a stray strand of hair out of his face.

He laughed, “I know.”

“Shut up,” she added before leaning into another kiss. That was when Leo knew he would be asking her to do his makeup a lot more often.

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #cabin 9 #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez fanfic #caleo #the seven #bunker 9

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yuutasprincess · 7 months

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Day 4: Toge Inumaki

Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: Dubcon, spit, thigh fucking, he cums in you, readers kind of mean but not on purpose

If someone were to ask Toge what he likes about you he’d stay quiet. It isn’t that he has something against you, but god do you know how to bend him. He’s wrapped around your pretty finger, hearts in his eyes everytime he hears your name. It all began as a simple crush, a consequence of spending so much time in the company of only two women—Maki, who often scolded him relentlessly and adorned him with fresh bruises every other day, and you, the sweet girl who would tenderly mend his injuries while flashing a mischievous grin at the new blue marks forming on his skin.

Though perhaps "sweetest" isn't the most fitting descriptor for you. It's just too tempting for Toge to resist your playful provocations. A gentle touch on his elbow to draw him nearer, a flirtatious flutter of your eyelashes in his direction, and a few sugary words are all it takes to have him eating out of your hand. There may not be a clear label for whatever dynamic exists between the two of you. While officially declaring Toge as your boyfriend would bring a semblance of normalcy, the thrill of being tantalizingly out of reach is simply too irresistible.

He wants you so incredibly bad, craves your praise, yearning for your attention with a desperation that knows no bounds. Toge isn't entirely sure how things escalated to this point. Maybe it was that one haunting night when you slipped into his room after a particularly grueling mission. He woke up with heavy-lidded eyes, swollen lips, and a throbbing neck adorned with telltale marks. All he had to remember that night was a bad hair day and the lingering taste of you.

The thing about Toge is that he doesn’t outright show his attraction around others. It becomes less fun teasing him when a group is present, his countenance remains stoic, with a subtle quirk of his eyebrow at most when you take the seat next to him and place a hand on his knee. Beneath his collar, an unnoticeable flush creeps up, a nod in your direction and eyes flicking to whoever else is around him.

His biggest struggle is when you slide in next to him when everyone goes out to eat, fingers sneaking between his thighs to paw at his hardening cock. You’re so evil, stifling a laugh behind your drink while he’s slumped in his seat acting as if he’s hiding a smile when really he’s trying not to cum his pants. You don't make it any easier for him afterward either. No, you send a sweet, taunting kiss his way and give a playful wave to everyone before being the first to make your exit.

In his mind, there's an extensive catalog of every tantalizing thing you do to him. He imagines you desiring him just as fervently as he longs for you. He thinks about how good you’d feel most of the time, sure he’s been between your legs. Eating you out as if he’s been starved, pretty fingers digging into the skin of your thighs and lips wrapped around your buzzing clit. But god, he’d do anything to fuck you.

Toge's love knows no bounds; he would willingly follow you anywhere, simply to bask in your presence.

Late-night snack runs are Toge's favorite, frequently evolving into moments that leave him craving for more. So, when he hears a knock at the door, he's quick to throw on his jacket and meet you in the hallway. Maki has a hankering for something spicy, Yuuta's got a sweet tooth, and Panda's in the mood for anything crunchy. Toge, on the other hand, holds no particular preference; if he's lucky, you might reward him with a lingering kiss for shouldering the bags of snacks.

As you walk side by side, the world seems to blur. Your shoulders brush against each other, and his fingertips ache to interlock with yours. He hears your words, but he's not truly listening. Something about Maki discovering a new coffee spot for your group, and while everything you say is undeniably interesting, when he's in such close proximity to you, essentially breathing the same air, his ability to focus is gone.

“I had a dream last night…” it drowns out, his eyes reading your lips to give him an excuse to imagine them wrapped around his- “You were in it.” Ok, now he’s listening.

His head tilts, marked tongue slipping out to wet his lower lip. “Wanna know what happened? I can act it out for you.” you tease, feet abruptly halting, you grab his arm and pull him into a nearby alley,

You guys never make it to the convenience store.

Lips meet lips, and for Toge, it's like drowning. The kiss is everything to him, a fervent, messy exchange of emotions mirroring the depths of his feelings. He can't help but wonder if you can feel just how much he wants you; it seems impossible not to know. His hands find the back of your neck, his slender fingers gently pinching at the skin of your nape, prompting a scoff from you but he quickly pulls you back and slips his tongue to meet yours. It’s overwhelming, he forces himself to breathe through his nose, his every exhale is your inhale as he won’t let you separate.

You’re patting his chest, tongue licking at the roof of his mouth until he groans and you can part. “Wow-” and he’s back on you. “Toge-” Tongue trying to slide back into your mouth. “Hey! Toge-” You have to force yourself out of his hold, lips chasing yours as he whines low in his chest. “Come on Toge, let’s go get the stuff then we can continue this…” But he knows you too well, knows you’ll just tease him at the store.

You’ll talk candy in his ear and cling to him, maybe give him another intense kiss then you'll part ways, leaving him in a state of torment until the cycle begins anew. Toge is caught in the endless loop, unable to bear the longing any longer. He wants you.

"Stay," his voice, so seldom heard, sends a shiver down your spine, leaving your knees weak. You barely hear him speak outside of his curse, and when you do, it lingers in your mind for days. You can see everything, feel the intensity of his touch, but as he said, you don't move. You remain locked in that moment, an unspoken agreement between you both. His kisses are feverish, marking the curve of your neck before claiming your lips.

It’s an odd sensation, having no control of your body as he slips your shirt over your chest, fingers sliding into the cups of your bra to pull your breasts out and pinch at your nipples. A shiver runs down your spine, his head bending down to spit on each tit before taking the left into his mouth and moaning. It’s everything he’s imagined, ok, maybe not exactly like how he pictured this happening.

Toge drools all over your chest, cheeks flushed a deep red as he watches you, your expression is flat but he can see the way your eyes glaze over. The unspoken truth lingers between you both: you want him just as desperately as he wants you, and he knows it. His mouth leaves your nipple with a string of saliva that he breaks with a swipe of his tongue, fingers grazing your sides before unbuttoning your pants.

His hands are shaky as he pulls your jeans down to your thighs, eyes dropping to the way your panties hug your pussy and the noticeable damp spot. His tongue feels heavy, throat itching as he resists the urge to rip your underwear off and tongue fuck you until his cursed speech breaks and you have to push his head away, desperate to reclaim a semblance of control. But he doesn’t do that. Rather, he slides your panties down to meet your jeans and he stands.

Kissing you over and over until your bodies sway and he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you standing while the other pulls his pants down enough to let his leaking cock free. Pushing his sensitive tip between your thighs he rolls his hips, breathing heavily in your ear as he grinds against your pussy, arousal coating his length and precum sticky between your legs.

It’s hard to stop kissing you, he’s sucking on your tongue, forcing your mouth open so he can spit into it before forcing you into a sloppy kiss where he can tilt your head back and make you swallow. Toge can't stop the whining and groaning, he wants to cum so bad but the idea of cumming inside you is too tempting. His cock slips into you with ease, your body forcefully relaxed as you stand still in his hold while he humps your shivering body.

There’s so many things he wants to say, wants to praise you and tell you how deeply he feels for you. How if he could he’d fuck you everyday until your pussy is shaped to take only him. You’re so warm, walls clenching around him and cunt gushing with every thrust, he feels so sensitive, he’s never been so pent up. Toge could cum any second, his jaw tense as he waits for his speech to wear off so you can really react while he fills you.

“Shit- shit!” you sound so good, so fucking sweet and breathless as he pulls you in impossibly tight. Arms circling your waist and lips finding your tit again as he sucks on your breast while you try to fill your lungs with air. His hips never stopping as he fucks you, thrusts quick with no specific aim, he can’t bring himself to pull out to the tip when you feel so good. Your hands pull at his hair, head thrown back and knees buckling as he bites hard enough to leave marks on your chest.

What pushes Toge over the edge is the way you look down at him, head falling onto your shoulder and eyes staring directly into his. He’s so smitten, just a glance has him digging his blunt nails into your lower back and hips stuttering as he cums. And when you’re not cumming with him, body trying to catch up with the sudden control of your limbs, he's panting in your ear. “Cum.” and fuck, the way you soak his cock and tighten around him has his brain melting.

When time resumes he has the nerve to look at you shyly, eyes wide and chin damp with his own drool as he softly ruts against you, oversensitivity creeping up on you. “Toge, you pervert” And you grin at him, that malicious teasing quirk of your lips that has him utterly ensnared. His cock twitches inside of you as he focuses on the white ring at the base of his length, he can’t look you in the eye. Too afraid he’ll cum just as quick again.

“If you wanted to fuck me so bad you should have just said so.” this time it's you kissing him, he’s moaning into your mouth and cumming when you spit onto his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut as you grip his hips and force him to keep sliding in and out of your pussy, “Stay” this time, it’s you commanding him. Voice sharp as he bites his tongue and lets you use his body.

Toge knows that you don't possess the same level of control over him that he exerts over you. But he’ll be damned if he lets this opportunity pass. And he knows Maki is going to give you guys shit when you come back in the early morning. But how can he complain when he's dreamt about this for so long.

#don't mention the missing days #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #cw dubious consent #inumaki x reader #inumaki smut #inumaki x you #inumaki x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #kinktober

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teatroll · 4 months

Text

+18 NSFW content ahead; MDNI

NANAMI KENTO SPICY HEADCANONS

Includes: fem!reader; inappropriate usage of showers and inaccurate depiction of shower shreks (water ain't lube, hons); unprotected piv; praising; + a bit more add-ons (headcanons, duh)

Note: should've been less detailed but i messed up halfway and it looks like a fic if you squint (oops?). anywho, thank my bestie, she buzzed off my ears 'bout this man and made this happen. (also not betaread) @cafekitsune and @saradika - banners ♡

♡ Nanami Kento is a busy man. So his world precisely revolves around his job as a sorcerer. So does his free time. Whenever he gets home, he's too exhausted to indulge into anything but sleep.

♡ Although, he's not opposed to taking a hot steamy shower or a relaxing bath with you. It's only logical - practical AND pleasant. Two birds, one stone. Quick and easy quality time.

♡ That's what he hoped for before he found his mind wandering places when your hands started massaging shampoo into his scalp.

♡ Steam fogging up the glass shower doors; hot streams washing off soapy foam down your naked form; your glistening eyes searching for his and that tender smile that he cherishes so much...

♡ Yeah, his mind was in the gutter straight away and refused to crawl out from that pit. And he knows that's on him, because it's been way too long since the last time both of you spent some actual quality time together. Better fix this now than never, right?

♡ His touches are slow and gentle as his hands start to roam free, fingertips caressing your skin with utmost care. Nanami's heart flutters as you softly sigh close to his ear.

♡ That gives him the confidence to take it up a notch and glide his hands down to cup your rear; your sweet mewls shortly turning into whimpers as you crook your head to the side, giving him access to leave teasing nibbles on your neck.

♡ It's not long before you feel his hardened length between your thighs as he deliberately rocks his hips into yours.

♡ The sound you made afterwards made him softly hiss through gritted teeth.

♡ Normally he'd choose a different (read as more secure, because he's intolerant to bullshit) place, but with the way you cling to him now, he decides to indulge into such a messy activity as shower sex. After all, he's got places to be tomorrow, so he needs to wake up early. Two birds, one stone yet again.

(This man is practical and rational from the top of his head down to his toenails, what did you expect?)

♡ You gasp when his cock starts to slide back and forth between your thighs, teasing your clit. Your pussy clenches over nothing as you let out a needy whine into his shoulder.

♡ "Shh, baby. It's okay." His voice is a bit raspy as he coos in your ear, caressing your sides. "Let me take care of you."

♡ Another gasp escapes from you as he scoops you into his arms and lifts you up by your hips. Your legs instinctively wrapping around him, so do your arms to support your weight on him.

(But, frankly, that much is not needed. Nanami can lift you up with a single hand and still be able to sip his morning coffee with a straight face.)

♡ With his tip now pushing past your entrance, he lets out a shaky breath; his eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. The sight is divine, least to say; and you'd gladly enjoy it all day long but the way his cock slowly stretches your velvety walls makes your vision blurry.

♡ You squirm and pant into the crook of his neck as his grip on you tightens ever so slightly while he slides all the way in.

♡ There's a pause as he lets you adjust to the feeling, whispering so sweetly in your ear it almost melts your brain into mush.

♡ That man will be giving you a praise kink of the century, there's ZERO debate here. And a simple "good girl" won't cut it either.

♡ He'll shower you in praises for how well you're taking him, for how delightful your moans are, for how cute the blush spreads across your cheeks and neck. Basically, anything his senses pick up on, he'll put on a pedestal.

♡ His thrusts are slow, deep, and so fucking sensual it almost feels like a torture. Of pleasure, obviously. Doesn't dismiss the fact you crave more and make it know as you pull him into the kiss by the back of his neck.

♡ He catches your moans with his lips, savors them like candy. It heats up every nerve in his body, makes his muscles tense as he picks up the pace.

♡ How can he not provide his sweet girl with what she truly wants? Denying you of anything feels so wrong that he can't help but indulge into it all over again.

(Is it a flock of birds, one giant rock now? Probably is.)

♡ He's definitely panting. Maybe even whimpers a bit, but the sound is muffled by your lips on his and hushed by the shower, so you can't really be sure.

♡ What you can be sure of, though, is that familiar knot forming in your core. And that feeling gradually increases with each grind of his. There's quite a bit more force to it now, so that previous tenderness is replaced by pure passion.

♡ There's no escaping a headcanon of Nanami guiding you through your orgasm. Because he definitely does so.

♡ "That's it, just a little more. You can do this, baby." AND "You're so precious. Let me hear those pretty sounds, come on."

♡ SPEAKING OF WHICH, definitely tries to maintain eye contact as you finish.

♡ He wants to feel as your walls clench around him, wants to hear you gasp a choked moan, he craves to watch you crumble on his cock.

♡ That sets him off more than anything as he follows you shortly after, spilling inside you with an ecstatic grunt.

♡ Normally, he'd pull out for sure. But since you're already in the shower, why not to indulge into yet another shower session? But this time, it's your turn to be on the receiving end.

♡ After a short cock warming session as you both try to catch your breath.

(And who knows, maybe this time he'll be able to contain himself and actually just do a simple mundane activity and not waste water for half an hour.)

(Fingers crossed, but the bill will be enormous either way.)

♡ Nanami would definitely kiss your jaw/line of pulse lazily and nibble on your neck.

♡ Praising is obviously a part of aftercare as well, how can he set that aside??

♡ Would leave a gentle peck on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"Now, now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

♡ EXTRA ♡

♡ Missionary is his "to go to", because that way he can witness every little change in your expression.

♡ He's leaning closer to vanilla tbh.

♡ BUT, if he's frustrated, there will be a quickie on his desk.

♡ Dead ass will ruin you. Your hips will be sore for a week.

(Everything will be sore since we're at it.)

♡ Not to mention there WILL be hair pulling. (I see you, horny people. I know what you want.)

♡ Aftercare now involves him doing everything in his power to soothe you.

♡ Will definitely think you're sobbing because he hurt you, when, on the contrary, that was pure bliss.

♡ Remind that man of it, he tends to forget that vanilla isn't the only thing that exists.

♡ High chance he adores watching you please yourself. Both with fingers and toys.

♡ Hey, he knows you'd rather feel full on his cock, but he's not opposed to teasing.

♡ He might be pure vanilla (hello cookie run lmao), but even so, Nanami can add some spice to your shared love life once in a while.

♡ Especially when it involves giving you the best of times. (Yes, with teasing too.)

♡ SUKUNA RYOMEN ♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO ♡

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Text

You guys really got me to one thousand likes in less than two days.

I don't even know what's happening but it's pulling me out of a really awful writer's block.

I have more ideas than I know what to do with so expect a good bit of content in the future.

You're all incredible 💗 ❤️

Have some Shanks headcanons, ranging from fluffy to spicy. As a treat.

I was a little iffy about Live Action Shanks at first, since he was literally my first manga/anime crush ever. But he grew on me more with every scene.

Especially that final scene where he saw Luffy's wanted poster. I mean....

Lookit that smile 🥹

So anyway.

LA!Shanks X Fem!Reader

Shanks A — Z

A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)

Holding you close and telling you how much he adores you.

He's going to give you anything you want. Anything.

"Do you need anything, sweetheart? I've got you."

You want a bath, he's going to run it for you, carry you there once it's ready, and help you bathe.

Food or a drink, you just lay down, he's got it.

Shanks is completely and utterly devoted to making you feel like a goddess after sex.

Showering you with soft, tender kisses and caresses and endless praise, rubbing his fingers between your wet folds to prolong your pleasure as long as possible.

If it seems like he's trying to coax you into another round, he probably is. Your're going to have to outright tell him you're if spent, because he can't get enough of you.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

You can expect it nightly. You're his princess and he's going to pamper you.

He might only have one hand, but dear gods those fingers are magic.

He's not asking anything in return, but if you're offering then he isn't going to turn you down.

Closing his eyes and groaning as your fingers work through the tension in his muscles.

"Oh, you're too good for me, love."

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)

If you're within arm's reach, then Shanks has his arm around you.

His main mode of affection is physical.

Pulling you you to his side, resting his head over yours, tugging you down onto his lap.

He wants you close, as much and as often as you're willing to be, and he does't give a damn who sees.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

Not really big on dancing, but if you want to he isn’t going to turn you down.

He'll take any excuse he can get to hold you close.

Tucking your hair behind your ear so he can rest his temple against yours.

His arm curled loosely around your back.

E — Extravagant Gestures (Things they do to make you feel loved)

He would literally move mountains for you if he could.

You tell him your dreams, well now they're his dreams too.

Anything you accomplish, whether alone or with his help, warrants the most lavish of celebrations.

He isn’t particularly materialistic, but what his princess wants, she gets, no questions asked.

"If you wanted the moon, I would make this ship fly so you could stake your claim."

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

All puppy-dog eyes and pouts.

Shanks makes it impossible to stay mad at him for any reasonable length of time. He's just too damned adorable.

Wrapping an arm around you and laying his head on your shoulder, refusing to let you go until you listen.

Even if it's a serious argument, the look of utter heartbreak on his face makes you cave every time.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just name it, I'll do anything."

He isn’t too proud to apologize—he knows when he's in the wrong, and he'll do anything in his power to make it up to you.

G — Going Out (What do they do for dates?)

If Shanks is the one doing the planning, you can expect to end up one of two places.

You might be at the nearest tavern, going shot for shot on rum until you can't see straight, singing sea shanties into the dark hours of morning.

Or laid out on a secluded stretch of beach in the moonlight, sharing a bottle or two, wrapped up in each others' arms and lips and forgetting the passage of time entirely.

He's happy doing anything that means he gets to spend time with you, though, so he's fine with going out of his element if you have something else in mind.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

Don't. Please. Just don't. He'll be inconsolable.

He'll cry. Don't make Shanks cry. That's just heartless.

He won't show it in front of his crew. He'll keep up his usual carefree and aloof facade.

But once he's alone, he'll be in complete shambles.

He'll probably drink himself senseless.

He loves hard, with every fabric of his being, and losing you would utterly destroy him.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

Literally all the time.

Shanks always kisses you like no one's watching, pulling you flush against him and delving his tongue between your lips and squeezing your rear.

In his eyes, there's no wrong time to show how much he treasures you. How much he wants you.

His ship could be under fire by a full Marine armada and he would still pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss if the mood struck.

In fact he'd probably do it just to show the Marines how completely unbothered he is.

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh)

If Shanks isn't cracking some stupid joke, you're worried something is wrong.

He loves making people laugh, loves seeing people laughing and enjoying life.

And making *you* laugh? That gives him life.

He's gone far as to pull your panties on while you're alone together in the captain's cabin and imitate you being dramatic about something until you're begging him to stop before you choke to death on your own giggles.

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

If you're within eyeshot, he *has* to kiss you.

He knows that his crew will roll their eyes and tease him about it, but he doesn't care. Your lips are like a drug and he simply can't get enough.

His kisses tend to be light and plauful.

Lightly biting and pulling at your bottom lip.

Flicking his tongue across lips to coax yours out.

Letting his tongue swirl slowly around yours before pulling back and leaving you craving more.

Pulling you into his lap when he deepens the kiss.

Lifting his hand to flip off anyone with the audacity to tell you two to get a room.

"Don't pay them any mind, princess. They're just a bunch of jealous pricks."

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they a cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He has to be against you in bed.

If you roll away in your sleep, he will subconsciously shift closer to you.

Spooning is definitely his favorite—your back and your ass pressed up against him, his arm draped over your waist so he can caress your stomach or lay his palm over one of your soft breasts...absolute *heaven*.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

Shanks is good with kids, being that he's practically an overgrown kid himself half the time.

All the same, he just...isn’t sure.

He loves you to death. Having a family with you would be a dream come true.

But if he had to leave his ship, his crew behind? He just isn’t sure he could do that.

Because he loves them to death, too.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Shanks posseses the positively deadly combination of being unnecessarily charming and handsome, and incredibly aware of it.

Thus, his confidence is through the roof.

He knows he doesn't need anything more than a cheeky grin and a soft carress or two to get you in bed.

That being said, he'll spend all day subtly teasing you to the end of your sanity to make sure you want him as much as it's possible to want another person.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

Absolutely a giver. He's incredible at it and he knows it.

And he's a terrible, terrible tease about it.

Taking you to the edge, making your thighs tremble...and then pulling away to brush his lips to your thighs and give you a cheeky grin.

"Oh, not yet, love. I love hearing you beg for it."

Keeping you on the edge until you're begging to come in complete and utter desperation before he finally lets you.

And then he isn't going to stop until you're begging him to.

He loves recieving just as much.

Really loves it when you pull him down an empty alley and get on your knees.Curling his fingers in your hair, groaning quietly and praising you endlessly.

His breath shaking as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and fuck your throat, wanting to enjoy the slow build-up.

"That's it, sweetheart. Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes while you suck my cock."

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Taking things too seriously. He's always joking around and having a good time, and all he wants is for you to do the same.

The silent treatment. It drives him absolutely insane. Just talk to him if there's something wrong, he wants to fix it.

Flirting with other men to make him jealous. Just don't. It's the one thing that truly gets under his skin, that could actually get him honestly angry with you.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

Gives you your distance if you need it, but he does so begrudgingly.

He knows life is short—he got his arm bit off by a giant sea monster, for gods' sake—and he wants to spend as much time as he can with you.

Whether you're out having fun, fighting alongside each other, or curled up together in a hammock sharing a bottle of rum and enjoying a lazy afternoon.

He loves being with you, and he'll take any excuse he can get.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or does it come natural?)

Shanks's version of romance isn't fancy dinners and extravagant date nights.

It's lying on a beach watching the sunset with you.

Pushing you into the water and diving in after you, kissing you while you're both sopping wet.

Making love under a full moon.

Telling you every opportunity he gets how much he adores you.

"You know you're my greatest treasure, don't you, sweetheart?"

It's hard not to know when he tells you at least three times a day.

But the way he looks into your eyes when he says it still manages to melt your heart every time.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Shanks isn't really much for materialism or consumerism.

You'll have to tell him if there's something you want, and he's not going to have any oroblem with getting it for you.

Every so often, something is going to catch his eye at some market in a port town.

Something that reminds him of you or that he thinks you'll like.

And he'll buy it without hesitation and give it to you with a big, goofy grin the second he sees you.

It's not all the time, but it makes it that much more special when it does happen.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

He absolutely trusts you—that's how love is supposed to work.

But he can get a little jealous.

You wouldn't know it from the way he carries himself and jokes about it, but he does get a little insecure about missing an entire limb.

This can lead to him getting a little defensive and possessive if other men approach you—he's going to make sure it's known that you're his lover, and he'll always fight for you.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Loose-fitting boxers are more comfortable.

He doesn't care what kind of underwear you wear, as long as it comes off easily.

And if you whisper in his ear that you're *not* wearing any?

You'd best buckle up, because he's putting you over his shoulder and carrying you off to the nearest private, or even semi-private location he can find to take advantage of this information.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?)

He is one hundred percent an open book with you.

You know everything about him. His life, his secrets, his aspirations.

He doesn't want anything to ever come up that could frighten you off, so he lays everything on the table surprisingly quickly.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

He would much rather cook, preferably with you. He's not the best at it, but he's not awful either, given that he's had to be self-sufficient for a good bit of his life.

And if you're good at it, he's not to proud to take advice.

Any time spent with you is a wonderful time to him.

If you go out, it's probably going to be street food or tavern fare—fancy restaurants aren't his forte, and he's frankly not sure he would even have anything appropriate to wear.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

Hopefully you like being teased literally to the edge of sanity.

Major kink for edging you, making you beg for it.

And dear sweet fuck, is he good at it.

Whispering all the things he's going to do to you throughout the course of the day.

Pulling you down an alley or into a broom closet, pinning you to the wall and teasing you through your panties, stopping just short of letting you cum.

Subtle glances and touches.

He *loves* seeing you writhing in his bed, desperate for his touch while he kisses your neck, just trailing his fingertips up and down your inner thigh.

Holding you down by your hips so you can't even grind against him.

"Such an eager little thing. Just be patient, princess. You're going to get what you want."

Kissing down your breasts, taking time to stop and tease your nipples.

Pushing your thighs apart with his knees so he can circle a finger around your entrance, chuckling a little at your moans and whimpers before finally pushing it in.

Sitting up on his knees to watch you arch your hips, rubbing against your g-spot just long enough to get you gasping.

Pulling his finger back out and slowly circling it around your clit instead, before shifting back between your thighs and giving the sensitive bud a few teasing licks, watching you shiver in anticipation.

Keeping it slow and sensual, enjoying every second of being between your thighs, building your pleasure at a slow and steady pace that drives you crazy.

Holding onto your hip keep you from grinding against his tongue.

Pulling back the second you crest toward orgasm, chuckling at your whimpering and begging as he trails his lips across your inner thigh.

"You're just so adorable when you're desperate for it."

Keeping it going for what feels like hours, before finally tugging you in close and not relenting until you're trembling and falling apart beneath him.

Feeling you throbbing under his tongue and tighten up around his fingers is like a high for him.

Not stopping until your body goes limp and the only sounds you can make are a few little whimpers.

Soft, tender kisses amd whispered praises at your neck and lips and shoulders, his fingers combing through your hair, letting you recover for just a minute, even though he's aching for you.

Grinding his cock against your wet folds a few times before sliding slowly into you, groaning quietly in your ear.

"Oh, fuck, you're tight, love..."

Absolutely savors every second of being inside you, moving in long slow strokes, brushing his thumb across your cheek while he kisses you.

If you ask for it harder, he's going to give it to you—he's done with teasing you now. This is about you now, about what his princess wants.

And if you want it rough, then you're coming out of it with your neck and chest half-covered in hickies, and he's not stopping until he's sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning.

Holding back just long enough so you can climax at the same time, grunting out a quiet swear and pulling your hips flush against his to come deep inside you.

Slow, deep kisses while you both catch your breath and come down.

But don't be surprised if he's gearing up for another round soon. He really can never get enough of you.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

It depends. If it's purely lust based, he's not going to pursue it very long and just move on.

If the feelings run deeper, though, he's absolutely shameless about it.

Relentless flirting and corny pick-up lines.

"Pardon me miss—do you have a map? It seems I've gotten lost in your eyes and I can’t find my way out."

Will absolutely get on his knees and beg you to give him a chance if he has to.

Puppy dog eyes in full effect.

It's pretty much pointless trying to resist.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

A bottle of rum, a hammock stretched between a couple palm trees on some remote beach only he knows about, and his arm curled around you while you lie back against his chest.

Kissing your temple and playing with your hair.

He's always more relaxed when he has you with him.

#shanks one piece #opla #shanks x reader #smut #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #shanks opla #one piece live action #fluff

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e1dritchjackal0pe · 3 months

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𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕭𝖊𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑

Summary: After your night with Farleigh, you wake in the morning to deal with the new, altered state of your relationship. You know for certain that you want more with him, but you have no idea if he wishes the same.

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI. AFAB, usage of 'good girl' . Sex in front of a mirror, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering. A bit of fluff. American reader. Not proofread.

Notes: 12.1k words. This probably won't make sense if you haven't read the first part. A big shout out for those of you who commented on the first part of this. Ya'll really slutted me out with all of the compliments and motivated me to write this second bit. Banner by @saradika-graphics

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦 - 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

Everything is warm. Cozy and inviting with a soothing, syrupy kind of heat that saps into your bones and flesh. You don't want to move. The possibility of having to seems like the worse possible inconvenience that you could even face. Your mind is slow to gather itself, caught up within the hazy drag of sleep, reluctant to wake up - outright fighting of the surge of consciousness, in fact. And irritably, you wonder why you're gradually being pulled from the dredges of slumber. Why the comforting threads entangling you is beginning to slip. What could possibly be waking you up right now?

And that's when your hazed over brain notices that band of light glaring into your eyes; bright and tinged orange from behind your eyelids. It's awful. Horrible even. Where is the light even coming from? You never leave your lamp on, and you always make sure to draw your curtains shut every night before sleep.

But despite your curiosity, you can't bring yourself to open your eyes. You know that it'll be game over if you do. There's no way that you'll be able to fall back asleep once you get up to check the origin of that offensive glow. But you can't fight the low, tired groan that erupts from your chest in annoyance while you blindly grab at the comforter snuggled around you, sliding it up higher until it's draped over your face and blocking out the light.

The relief is immediate, and you find yourself shifting in an attempt to burrow yourself deeper into the plush support of the mattress, breathing in a satisfied, deep drag of air. Taking a lungful of something sweet and earthy with hints of something spicy too. It's familiar; comforting and it has you subconsciously drawing in another breath. It smells like Farleigh, you think contentedly.

That does have you perking up a bit. Some small part of you becoming hideously awake, like it's trying to remember something that you've forgotten. But you're still actively fighting off the urge get up. You just aren't ready for it. There's some tension in your skull and your mouth feels dry and dehydrated. It's not the worse hangover you've ever had. But then again, the one that you had woken up to on the night after graduation had been near crippling. Honestly, you hadn't thought that you were ever going to survive it. It felt like someone was striking down on your skull with a hammer, trying to split it down the middle. This one was more than manageable, nothing a glass of water and an aspirin couldn't clear up.

But even then, the urge to get up out of bed to shuffle around in the bathroom was less than thrilling.

You shift around again, rolling from your back and onto your side, hoping that maybe this position will actually help you in falling asleep again. But you pause when you feel your knee brush against something firm and warm. And a curious nudge from your foot has you coming to the realization that you're prodding at another leg. Someone else's leg.

It makes your stomach jolt, and the shot of adrenalin combined with the cloud of sleep still seeped across your mind has you squirming in place, while your arms jerk uselessly. It feels like minutes have passed before you're clumsily tossing the blanket from over your head and propping yourself up to look at whoever is lying across from you.

It's the head of dark curls that you notice first before your gaze lowers, tracing over a pair of closed eye lashes and the set of a familiar pout peeking out from the cocoon of the comforter. It has your brain chugging along sluggishly while it scrambles to catch up. And then last night is rushing towards you in waves. Of running into Farleigh, your shared whispered confessions up on the balcony, and the fervent, relieved fucking that came after it.

Heat prickles at your skin at the memories. Of the desperate, broken moans that had left his shuddering chest, the feel of his writhing body underneath your thighs, how he had pressed his face between the apex of your legs and -

Nope, not right now. The last thing you need to be is hungover and horny.

But that was right, you weren't in your room. He had invited you to spend the night with him afterwards. It had been sweet, and domestic. The two of you had spent the first twenty minutes just soaking in the bath together. And a decent majority of it had been the both of you just leaning into each other. The actual bathing that you had done had been somewhat rushed and done out of necessity so that you could spend the rest of your time leaning against the cradle of his chest. Enjoying the feel of skin-on-skin contact and the other's presence. You stayed in the water until it had gone cool, and the only source of heat was coming from your bodies. And even then, you both were reluctant to leave the tub, basking in conversation and gossip, catching up on the few years where you had never really allowed yourselves to just talk to each other.

And once the water became too chilled to bear you were quick to get out of the tub and slip into the comfort of his bed. He had been quick to tug you into his arms once you were settled down underneath the blankets. He was practically glued to you since your entanglement on the balcony - not that you were complaining.

You had all but melted against him for the entire night, laughing and scolding him with no real scorn whenever he had judged or quipped at the movie you were watching in between the kisses he was scattering across your neck. It was disgustingly soft, and light years away from anything you ever imagined yourself doing with Farleigh. If you had told the past version of yourself from yesterday morning that you would be lying his bed and actually enjoying - wanting - to be near him, you would have scoffed. You would have passionately denied the sheer possibility of it.

But now here you are, admiring the way that he looks underneath the soft pale champagne glow of the morning sunlight with nothing but fondness in your chest. He looks peaceful like this. Relaxed. It's somewhat strange to be able to see him like this. All vulnerable and soft while he's unable to dish out sarcasm and insults.

"I can feel you staring, you weirdo," he speaks suddenly without opening his eyes. His voice is low and a little raspy from sleep, and the way that it affects you is entirely unfair. A full body shiver runs down the notches of your spine at the smoky quality to it and you try to subtly shift to hide it, but something tells you that he may have noticed with the smirk that's begun to perk at the corner of his lips.

"Admiring, " you correct, and you shuffle onto your back like you're lifting yourself to get out of the bed, shrugging the blankets off. "But if you don't like it then I can just leave."

He moves way too quickly for someone who just woke up, slipping his arms around your middle and tugging you back into the warmth of the comforter. But you don't put up any semblance of a fight. You let him take you and you can't hold in the laugh that breaks from your chest when he settles you with your back pressed against him, keeping you trapped with the strength of his hold.

"You're not allowed to leave, " he grumbles pettishly. It's so different from all of the interactions that you two usually share and a part of you still hasn't caught up to the sudden shift in your dynamic. You feel just as lost as you do happy, but as much as you'd like to start firing off questions you still can't bring yourself to. Not yet at least. And luckily Farleigh is speaking, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Why are you awake so early?"

"Because someone has very thin curtains that he decided to leave open," you grouse with no real bite.

He tucks his chin over the crown of your head and hums tiredly. You can feel that way that his abdomen vibrates against your back with the sound. The heat radiating from his bare skin is soaking into yours from the barrier of your borrowed shirt, and combined with the scent of his body wash and the left-over remnants of his cologne it has the temptation of sleep beginning to weigh down your limbs. "You could have closed them."

"Hmm . . . I'm kinda glad I didn't," you admit, snuggling back into his chest as much as you can. "You're so pretty when you're sleeping, and your face isn't all twisted up in a scowl."

The reprimanding bite that he nips at the junction of your neck catches you off guard, making you jolt with a small, surprised yelp. You can't find it in yourself to even mildly irritated, but you kick at his shin regardless in a playful warning of your own.

"I'm always pretty," he scolds.

Then a silence falls across the room. Not uncomfortable but still. Peaceful and light, and the buttery summer breeze pouring from the open window just amplifies the sense of calm. And you smell the dulcet, earthy scent of pollen and fresh morning dew on the air. There's a bird singing from somewhere outside, declaring the rise of the early sun in a gentle coo. And for a moment, it almost sounds like a mourning dove.

You just allow yourself to relax and lounge in the tranquility of the moment. Idly scanning the contents of his room from the comfort of his bed. Glancing over at the shelf in the corner, stocked full of novels; everything from old literary classics like The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Dracula, The Great Gatsby, a couple of books on mythology, a few Harry Potter novels and you even spy what also seems to be a copy of one of the Sex and the City stories. A few of shirts were discarded in the corner near a small laundry basket like he had thrown them and missed, forgotten on the floor.

And it suddenly strikes you that this is the first time that you've actually been inside of Farleigh's room. You've gotten glimpses of it of course, typically during brief confrontations while standing in his doorway. Usually, when Felix or Elspeth would send you to his door in their stead to retrieve him or remind him of a mandatory affair. And it's a reminder of the step that you had taken last night. The way that you both had singlehandedly altered the trajectory of your relationship with each other.

Not even the uncertainty in your gut is enough to disrupt the ease in your bones. But is still there. Unignorable. It isn't awkward or uncomfortable, but it is foreign. This entire situation is new and fragile. The ground that you're treading is something that you've never even grown close to traversing with Farleigh, and with it there is a sense of something delicate and brand new, like eggshells. And a part of you is worried that if you handle it too harshly that it might break.

But you know that despite your hesitance that a conversation needs to be had. Boundaries and intentions need to be laid bare and the more you hold it off the more confused and distressed you're going to become.

"Farleigh?" You say softly, and for a moment you think that he's fallen asleep again, but then a questioning hum is purring out into the air in response; you feel it more than you hear it.

And now there it is. That awful nervousness fluttering at your gut like a ball of panicked, nauseating butterflies. "What are we exactly?" You nearly wince when you ask it. The dryness in your throat doesn't help anything, and your words nearly catch on their way out. "I know we were both drinking and partying last night, so I just want to make sure that we're both on the same page. That I'm not . . . assuming anything."

There's another bout of silence. But this time it is distressing, and you wish that he'd just speak. Even if it's just to reject you or say that last night was just a one-time thing. At least, it would be ripping the band aid off. Setting a boundary and cutting you off. As much as it would hurt it would give you closure and let you move on to pretend that it never happened. It would be awkward, tiptoeing around the estate and pretending as though last night - this morning, didn't take place - a beautiful, haunting dream - but you could do it. You would have to. You could still fake all of those old glares and scathing remarks if it meant that a sense of normalcy would remain intact. You could pretend to forget all of his soft touches, and the way that he had called you gorgeous. How he had held your gaze and looked at you like you had hung the moon up into the night sky. You could forget all of it, you swear you could.

But it's just quiet, and the anticipation is killing you. Letting you choke on your own worry.

Farleigh shuffles back from you and for one terrifying moment you think that he's leaving the bed, too irritated or indifferent to even try and have this talk with you. But instead, he's softly nudging your arm to guide you to twist around onto your opposite side; making you face him.

There's something gentle is his eyes, something vulnerable too. And it makes you hopeful that he feels the same way as you do.

"Well . . . " He starts but then a pause takes over like he's trying to collect himself and find the proper words. You can feel the way that you subconsciously begin to clam up, seizing and waiting to be torn down and told the ugly truth. You brace waiting to have to put on a fake smile and nod before you have to slip from his bed and head to your room in a walk of shame with rejection stabbing inside your chest like glass shards.

"I was hoping that you'd be my girlfriend."

The relief that floods through you nearly makes you breathless. And for a moment you think that this is what it feels like to be engulfed in the sun; swaddled in a warmth that reminds you of the nostalgia of a fond, distant memory. It's the joy of a day free at the beach, the repose that comes after holding your breath for a long stretch of time, the exhilaration from finding the answer to a mystery that's eluded you for years. But you can't articulate any of that, can't find a single word that properly conveys your emotions while under the cloud of sleep.

"Okay," it isn't an eloquent response, by any means. Even just saying 'yes' probably would have read better. But that didn't mean that it wasn't said with any less intensity and enthusiasm. And you can tell that Farleigh must be able to pick up on the true scope of your emotions bleeding through because he doesn't look offended or disappointed. But his eyebrows do lift as he levels you with a look that's purely amused and a little happy.

"Okay?" He echos with a light chuckle.

"Okay, " you reaffirm, sliding closer until your noses touch. "I'd love to be your girlfriend."

The look in his eyes is soft and relaxed, and they're shimmering lightly in the morning glow with hints of amber and a rich brown. And then he's peppering kisses across your face like he's mapping out your features with his lips, trailing them across your forehead and cheekbones and jawline. It's unrushed and slow, like you both have all of the time in the world. Like the sun is permanently fixed in the lavender horizon and isn't due to rise up and give way to a full day. But here and now, it's just you and him, curled up in the covers and one another.

It's still so strange to be the object of his affections. It's a complete one-eighty from the way that you've interacted for years. Sure, now that you've had your little epiphany last night, you've been able to realize (and come to terms with the fact) that there's always been a kind of attraction and even fondness brewing underneath every one of your little spats and encounters. But never would have thought that you could say that that want, and affection went both ways. That there had ever been anything thing other than animosity and annoyance on his end.

"What are you thinking about?" Farleigh ask, nuzzling against your cheek to get your attention before he pulls away to hold your gaze.

"I guess, I'm just a little surprised, is all." You admit, though it is a little cryptic. "I just never got the impression that you liked me all that much."

Something in his expression sobers, and for a moment you worry that you've said something wrong. That you've accidentally nudged something that he wasn't ready to disclose.

"That was the point," he confesses, making your eyebrows pinch in confusion. "Of all of the teasing and fighting. For the most part." He pulls back, settling back against the bed and you settle on the flat of your stomach, supporting yourself on your elbows to observe him easier. "Though, I do just genuinely enjoy teasing you. You always get that cute little furrow, right here whenever I do."

He lightly pokes at the point between your eyes with a smirk. And you swat at his hand, playful and relaxed before his features smooth back into that serious look. You can tell that he's briefly deflecting, trying to drag his explanation out more than it needs to be, and as much as your curiosity is burning at you like a hot ember, you don't make any means to rush him. His gaze skitters around the room with something akin to defeat and exasperation while he tussles with whatever conflict is warring around inside of him.

Your fingers hesitantly reach for his own, clasping lightly just in case he wants to pull away, and you take it as good sign when he doesn't. Instead, he's threading your fingers together and squeezing, stroking at your knuckles with his thumb. "Felix, " he says suddenly with something like a grimace. "They always pick Felix. The golden boy. And I thought, 'why even try?' "

The clarification is a little vague and scattered. But you're still able to piece together a mental timeline with the little bits and pieces that he's given. And it finally answers the question as to why your otherwise cordial relationship with Farleigh had seemed to take an abrupt nosedive after Felix's visit to the States all those years ago. Why your interactions went from playful to subtly meanspirited. He was jealous. Envious of his cousin all because he had assumed that you had a crush on or would eventually develop a crush for Felix.

Sure, you weren't blind. Felix, for all intents and purposes was an attractive guy. And he's has always been a dear friend to you, protective and caring but you can genuinely say that your feelings for Felix had never developed past the platonic sense. Not even out of curiosity.

And it is a little aggravating to know that all the years of animosity between you and Farleigh was because he wasn't able to sit you down and have a conversation with you. That he had decided to act like a middle school boy who tugs on the pig tails of the girl that he likes because he can't properly convey his feelings. But you also know that that assessment isn't fully fair either. You're aware of the fragile standing that Farleigh has with the Catton's - his own family, and that he no doubt, often feels like a guest in a home that should be considered his just as much as it's his cousins.

And Felix, whether he realizes it or not, has always been able to achieve and get whatever - or whoever he wants. Usually, from his family's social or financial standing. And so, it wouldn't be the wild for him to assume that you'd be attracted to all of those things too. Especially, considering that you yourself, like many people, don't come from a wealthy family. It's a part of human nature, to gravitate towards the things you can't have. To try and see what life is like on the other side, where you're hand fed from a silver spoon and your every whim can be taken care of by an everlasting stash of money. So, Farleigh's insecurities weren't unfounded by any means, but regardless, it did still hurt to some degree that he felt like wasn't able to just talk to you about the way that he had felt. About the emotions that he had silently been harboring for all of this time.

"I really did try to hate you. " And when he looks at you his expression is naked and honest. " I tried to push you away, but it didn't work. It never worked."

He looks vulnerable. Like he's waiting for you to get angry or irritated and he's bracing for an argument. But you don't even contemplate doing anything even close to that. Instead, you're scooting yourself up on your knees to gently swing yourself across his lap, and he welcomes you by gripping onto your hips. You can't feel his skin directly. Not while you're both wearing a pair of boxers (he had lent you one of his to wear for bed last night) but you could still feel the heat of him against underneath you. And it serves to ground you all the same, pulling you into the moment and holding you here. And you take comfort in the sensation of his body against yours.

"I've never hated you either, " you say, swallowing around the nervousness in your throat. " I thought I did. But I don't think I ever really could, not even back then. I'm mean don't get me wrong, you were arrogant, and rude and some days you made me want to slam my head into a wall . . . But I never hated you."

There's something akin to relief in his eyes; hopeful and soft. And then he's saying two words that you thought you'd never expect to hear coming from him.

"I'm sorry."

It takes a moment for your mind to even register what he had said. But once the apology clicks into place, it has something fuzzy and warm growing in your chest, and you couldn't hide the soft smile pulling at your lips. It's bittersweet. You're remorseful for all the time lost between you but you can't even bother to dwell on it for too long, not now. Not with him gazing up at you, hopeful and waiting.

And the truth is, is that you weren't entirely blameless, either. Yes, Farleigh had been the one to initiate the friction and enmity between you, but you were also quick to respond in kind. Instead of even trying to take the high road and figuring out the root of his animosity, you were quick to jump on the offensive. Forgoing any ideas of reconciling in the desire to try and get even. You just gave it all up, the months' worth of a gradually cultivated fellowship in the trade of trying to tear him down like he had done to you.

"I'm sorry, too," you say truthfully. And the last bits of that tense, worried energy that had been tainting the air finally vanishes, carried off on the gentle breeze pouring through the window and out into the courtyard. Its absence welcomes back the playfulness that had been present earlier. "But if we're being honest, I've always enjoyed our little fights."

The way that he grins in response is the kind that would have concerned you at one time (only just a few hours ago - Jesus, you can hardly believe it still), all cocky and entirely too satisfied. "I know, I clocked that from the very start."

You can't resist the urge to roll your eyes, and there's a retort on the tip of your tongue, ready to tease him back but instead your mind decides to take a detour and it swerves back around to a different train of thought completely. Making you pause in place, lips slightly parted with the preparation to speak but the initial remark is gone. Leaving to assess your new realization with a bit of confused wonder. The realization that you didn't become acquaintances with Felix until months after knowing Farleigh. And that would mean that he caught feelings before- "Wait, " you pause, squinting at Farleigh questioningly. "You said that you weren't going to even try because of Felix. Then when did you . . ?"

He sighs lowly, stroking your thighs in a way that seems more absentminded than intentional, like his brain needs a distraction. "The first day that we met there's was something there. It was small. Intrigue, mostly. I didn't think it would go anywhere, and for a little while it didn't." It's matter of fact, not meant to be rude or harmful, just honest. "There wasn't some pivotal moment that changed things. I don't have a specific date to give you; all those feelings were suddenly just there, and I didn't know what to do with them."

It was the same way for you, you suppose. It wasn't like in the movies where the protagonist shares one defining moment with their love interest that just abruptly opens their eyes to their newfound affection and they immediately fall in love. The build up to your feelings had simmered and climbed up over time. It just sort of snuck up on you so stealthily that you hadn't even recognized that you had them. And even worse, your own hubris had kept you from even acknowledging the little shreds of emotions that managed to sneak by and slip under the radar. You always had an excuse for yourself.

That fuzzy, tingling feeling that would bubble in the pit of your gut whenever you had seen Farleigh smile back in the past, candid and genuine, that wasn't affection, that was disgust, surely. That searing burn that would scatter across your flesh when someone would lean up against his side and openly flirt with him, coquette and unabashed, it was just your irritation for him, not jealously.

Your emotions had always been there. Right under the surface and raging, but you had never let yourself see. Had never let yourself indulge. You were so out of touch with them, that honestly, you wouldn't be able to track whenever they had begun to manifest. It could have been from day one for all you know. And maybe it was. Right on that April evening, during the middle of a heatwave that had come in and choked out the otherwise agreeable spring air. The sun had the city in a violent grip, beating down on the concrete and asphalt until it was sweltering. And in an attempt to escape the unbearable temperatures, you and Graham, like many of the other tenants, had taken to the crystal waters of the pool to cool off. And when Graham had asked you if one of his friends could swing by, you had no qualms on the matter. You were honestly intrigued, considering that the said friend was apparently the mysterious Farleigh, who Graham had grown to be quite fond off, with the both of them having met from running with similar crowds. Socializers and party goers.

When Farleigh had showed up to the pool, you hadn't missed the somewhat disgruntled way that his lip had curled while he eyed all of the people splashing about in the water as he followed Graham over to your seats on the poolside. Like they had offended him by being there. But you could only find yourself being amused by his apparent dislike for the public, and when he had neared you were quick to sit up in your lounger, lifting your sunglasses from your eyes and onto your head to assess him better.

"You must be the famed Farleigh," you had greeted before extending your hand for him to take, introducing yourself with a smile.

"That would be me," he had replied, laying back on the chaise beside yours like he had always been there; relaxed and unbothered. Like he had known you forever. "But 'famed,' huh? Does he talk about me often?"

"Enough for me to be intrigued." You admitted, folding the corner page of the book you had been reading in a dog-eared marker before shutting it closed so that you could freely turn your focus onto him instead.

"And what has he told you about me?" He asked.

Your lips lifted, and for a moment you glanced around the pool, observing the colorful array of plastic floaties and limbs playfully kicking up water. "That you're trouble."

But it was told without any bite, your tone airy and impish. He didn't necessarily return your smile, but there was a kind of mirth glinting in his eyes. Intrigue as well. He let himself relax into the cradle of the chair without removing his gaze from yours, and you could see his open amusement. And somewhere in the near distance a child squealed in open delight and the laughter of their parent closely followed, but neither of you had so much as glanced away from each other.

"So, he told you the truth." That had been his response.

Charming, that had been your first thought of him. And it was one without ire or sarcasm. It was the truth. He had been charming then, and the both of you had spent a good twenty minutes talking to each other after your introduction. Divulging in common interest and gossip. Mostly from you sharing the scandals of your fellow tenants, like how your neighbor from 2E had been cheating on her boyfriend with the guy from 1F or how the elderly woman from down your hall had traded her husband's ashes for a pound of weed.

But regardless of when your feelings for Farleigh had begun, it didn't change the fact that you were so ignorant and blind, that literally everyone else had taken notice of your attraction before you had. And all of the teasing from Venetia, and Felix, and even Graham hadn't been enough to make you recognize them.

"And then one day, I couldn't stop thinking about you. " He admits. There's an intensity in his gaze, and that open vulnerability is still in there too. It threatens to steal your breath, and you have to force yourself to inhale. But it just makes you take the scent of his shampoo; the fresh, delicate fragrance of the detergent and his cologne on his sheets and it just makes the warm haze seeping back into you so much worse. "With your thrifted sweatshirts and bitchy attitude."

"Oh, I'm the bitchy one?"

You aren't sure what changes it. What causes the shift. If perhaps it had just been there the entire time and you had been too preoccupied to notice it with your thoughts and heart to heart conversation. Or if maybe it was just from the way that he's looking at you now. With an unmistakable type of want. With a sultry type of need that's hauntingly similar to the fervor that had glinted in his eyes just last night. And the feel of his heated palms gripping your thighs and the pressure of his lap nestled between your legs doesn't make it any easier. But the low heat rising in the room seems to amplify the desire that's beginning to storm inside of you, building up from the sun that's ascended a few more degrees into the morning sky. And combined with the light golden hue casted over the bed, it makes you feel as though you're being incased in a vat of heated honey. Saccharine, hazy and torrid.

You have to chase after that feeling. Following after it like a flower tracking the suns path across the sky and it leads you to Farleigh. Making you tilt down towards him like it's your purpose, brushing your lips over his and breathing in his air. And all the while you don't break eye contact once. You couldn't. You won't.

The hold of his finger's flexes on you, like he's trying to ground himself. His anticipation almost seems like a physical thing; like it's brushing up against your body and hanging heavy in the air. And it could be your mind playing tricks on you, but you're certain that he's stopped breathing while he eagerly waits for you to do something.

It has you lifting a hand up to cup his face, delicate and almost devout in the way that you press your palm against his cheek and his eyelashes nearly flutter from the contact. He looks content like this. No doubt still a little addled from the sleep that's probably still clinging to his brain. But the way that he appears to be so peaceful and fulfilled with something as little as your touch has this insatiable thing growing inside of you, and it feels as though it could grow a will of its own and possess you. The weight of it would have scared you once, if you weren't already so utterly swept up in it.

You can't help but to trace his skin, idly sweeping your thumb across the jut of his cheekbone before dragging it down the fullness of his bottom lip. And it surprises you entirely when he drops his jaw open to take the digit into his mouth. You have to hold back a gasp at the sensation of his tongue brushing over your skin and sucking. And the impish gleam in his eyes almost seems like some kind of dare. Like he wants you to make a move.

You just press your thumb into his mouth with a bit more pressure and the delicate, airy sigh that leaves him is a reward all in its own. The glide of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the way that he's looking at you, it's all so blissfully overwhelming. You wish that you could just stay here indefinitely, under the cover of the blankets with his body against your own.

But . . .

"You're a brat." That's all you say before you extract your digit from between his lips and swing yourself from his hips to climb off the bed. You have to glance over your shoulder when a surprised "what the fuck?" rises out from behind you as you pad over towards the open doorway of the adjacent bathroom. And the outright pouty and exasperated way that Farleigh rolls over onto his stomach and slams his face into the plush of one of his pillows is the last thing you see of him once you cross the threshold, and you can't fight the amused chuckle that leaves your chest.

You can hear him grumble something, but it's inaudible from your place at the sink, muffled by the walls and distance. You try to ignore those torrential, gushing emotions that are rising up inside your chest but it's hard to fight the smile on your face, and the sight of your reflection in the mirror is humbling almost. You're beaming and your eyes are sparkling with an unhidden mirth. God, you look like a lovestruck idiot. You can hardly recognize yourself like this, but as completely taken as you are by your feelings you can't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed by them. It feels good to just embrace them after years of fighting and lying to yourself. And you finally feel at peace.

It's like relief, being here with him. By wearing his clothes and spending the night in his bed. The toothbrush that you're using was one of his spares. It had still been tucked away in the rigid plastic and cardboard of its packaging when he had let you use it last night. He had been the one to suggest that you take it when you had been fully prepared to swing by the neighboring bathroom near your bedroom to collect you own. But he had told you that you didn't need to bother. That you could just take one of his. And after you had used it, you had placed it in the caddy beside his own for the night. They were all such small things. Tiny minute gestures but they made you feel so wholly wanted.

When you lean over to spit out the frothy toothpaste into the basin of the sink a pair of arms slip around your middle and press you into the expanse of his front. He hooks his chin over your shoulder to look at you from the reflection of the mirror and you struggle not to make eye contact with him as your rinse the bristles of the brush off underneath the tap.

"Come back to bed," he says, nuzzling his face into the junction of your neck. "Breakfast isn't for almost another two hours."

You just hum in response, tapping your toothbrush dry on the edge of the sink before plopping it back into its place in the caddy. "I will, " you promise. "Do you have anything for headaches? I have a little bit of a hangover."

"Bottom drawer on the left," he directs, and slackens his hold on you for you to slip free. You crouch down to slide the drawer open and rove your eyes over the contents before you single out the white safety lid of a bottle of ibuprofen. Once you have it, you're opening it eagerly and plucking a tablet into the palm of your hand. The throbbing in your skull is still dull, more of an annoyance really. But regardless you're still more than relieved to get something to finally knock it out.

You drop the sealed bottle back into its place before nudging the door closed with your leg as you rise to stand, and you put the bitter, acrid pill on your tongue. Farleigh is already in the process of brushing his own teeth, and instead of shuffling over to the opposing sink, you're leaning over into Farleigh's space and cupping a bit of water streaming from the tap into your palm to drink up; using it to wash down the tablet.

He doesn't look peeved in the slightest though, that he has to shift back just a bit on his feet to allow you closer as you toss the pill down. Instead, there's an amused smile on his lips while he watches you. Though you're too busy roving your eyes over your own features to notice, and you can't help the slight exasperation that shows when you spot a few fine pieces of glitter that are still stubbornly clinging to your skin; glinting from your collar bone and the ridge of your left cheek. You'll probably be finding remnants of it for weeks at this rate, in your hair and on your clothes.

Though you suppose that you can't be all that mad about it, with the way that it serves to be a reminder of last night. Of the balmy satin breeze and the pleased moans that it had carried. You can already feel your body thrumming in response and the depth of your reverie keeps you from noticing that he had finished brushing his teeth and had placed his brush in the caddy until you see his reflection shuffling around and he's suddenly standing behind you, securing his arms around your waist once again.

You all but melt back against him with a happy hum under your breath. It still surprises you a bit, the way that he seeks you and your affection out and clings to you. Though, you suppose that it really shouldn't be all that much of a shock. He has always been a very physical sort of person, even with those that he has a platonic relationship with. Even in the past, he always seemed to have someone touching him, whether it be by having a person clinging to arm, or sitting in his lap, he was always sharing his space in some kind of way. So, it isn't that farfetched that he'd crave physical intimacy in a relationship just as much. And you're all too eager and willing to fulfill that want.

Though you suppose that the surprise still comes from how new and raw this all still is. You've had your dynamic solidified with Farleigh for years. And it persisted that way, unshifting and constant until it had been swiftly uprooted and altered by a simple exchange of words. And a part of you still has yet to come to terms with it yet. That you're here with him and so completely, and wholly content. That you're happy with the person who had made it his mission to taunt your every waking moment. It is jarring and strange but no less sweet and captivating, and you don't think that you could imagine being with anyone else right now and experiencing the same breadth of joy and tranquility.

Your body almost goes lax against his, settling underneath the comforting heat radiating from the plains of his chest and abdomen. It's all peaceful and unrushed. Just two people enjoying each other's company without the threat of any responsibilities or tasks looming ahead to move you apart. And for a moment you think that you could fall asleep like this, standing up while cradled in his arms.

But then one of his hands begins to wander, shifting from its place around your middle to slip underneath your (his) shirt. And you can't help but to smile, basking in the subtle shift that weaves over the privacy of the bathroom. It's simmering and low and it already has a delicate heat blossoming between your thighs. His fingers trace up your stomach, leaving a buzzing trail across your skin in their wake and when they reach the swell of one your breasts it has you gasping.

"Open your eyes, " he purrs in your ear, smoky and sonorous and it gives you no choice but to comply. You hadn't even realized that you had closed them until they're fluttering open and meeting Farleigh's in the mirror's reflection. And the smoldering want alight within them has you breathless and thrumming with anticipation.

His other hand starts drifting, but it isn't slipping up to join the opposing one near your chest, it's traveling down low until his fingers are teasing at the band of your boxers that hang from your hips. He lets his thumb glide underneath the fabric to sweep teasing glides across the skin of your pubic mound. And you find yourself trying to lightly grind against his hand like it might get it to move lower to where you want him. But he doesn't budge, and the only thing that greets you is a condescending chuckle against the side of your head as he plants a kiss into the plush of your hair.

"I'm going to fuck you with my fingers, and you're going to watch."

That just about nearly makes your knees go slack. And the warmth blossoming in your stomach is thick and heady already. He doesn't even have to ask if you agree, you beat him to the punch, eagerly nodding in response with a quick yes. And it's then that his hand finally moves. Your mouth drops open when his fingers slip in between your legs, parting through the heat of you and gently grinding against your clit in heavy, teasing glides. And the fingertips on your breast softly pluck at your nipple in time with each circle around the sensitive nerves at the apex of your thighs.

It has you becoming aware of how wet you already are, but you can't focus on the embarrassment for long because the sheer intensity of Farleigh's gaze has you in a grip. He only breaks the contact to briefly admire the shape of his hand jutting out from underneath the fabric of your boxers before it sweeps back up to your face, making you focus on yourself. There's already a glazed over sort of gleam in the reflection of your eyes, and your chest is rhythmically rising and expanding to release low, airy gasps.

It has heat prickling at your cheeks in a self-conscious response and you can't help it when you look away from the image of the both of you to train your gaze onto something else. It wasn't seeing him that made you feel awkward, it was seeing yourself like this that was so strange. You couldn't watch yourself like this. So, you pin your gaze onto the golden trim of the mirror instead, tracing the shapes of the cherubim and flora carved into the wood as some kind of distraction while your hips chase after the sultry simmer that's lowly building within the cradle of your hips.

But even with that pleasure, you can't help the way you whine when the hand stroking at your breast suddenly leaves. Though you can't voice your frustration before it's slipping from underneath the shirt and taking ahold of your jaw, guiding you to tilt your head back. The cradle of his hand is almost light despite the firmness behind it, more of a suggestion really, but you find yourself yielding to it regardless. Allowing your head to loll back on your neck until it's pressed against him.

And the angle makes you see yourself in the reflection. You want to glance away again and save yourself from the awkward prickling at your skin.

"Watch," Farleigh orders softly, nipping at your ear like it was a kind of reprimand.

And you can't look away now. Not with the sound of his command still ringing in your mind, all low and raspy.

"Good girl," he purrs. Then one of his fingers is slipping inside of you and even though he had just fucked you last night, you can still feel your walls slightly stretching around the thickness of it. A ragged moan tears from your lips at the feel of it and your body mindlessly jerks against the sensation, making you unintentionally grind against the rigid heat of his cock pressing against your backside. You can hear the soft sigh of pleasure that leaves him at the feel of you rocking against him, and his eyebrows pinch close with a near rapturous type of wince. Like it already felt too good.

It gives you a sense of satisfaction to know that even while he's pumping his finger into the heat of your cunt and working you into the throes of a syrupy, saccharine pleasure that you could still affect him. You can tell that he's noticed the slight smirk that's begun to tilt at your lips if the way that he glares at you from over your shoulder is anything to go by. And never to be one to back down from a challenge, he's gliding a second finger in alongside the other and curling them in deep.

Your hands reach for the counter, grabbing onto the edge of the sink for some stability. For something to anchor you while pure liquid heat pours over you like melted wax. But you don't stop fucking yourself on his hand, you don't stop grinding against him either, desperately rolling the swell of your ass against the rigid press of his cock; eager to see that near wounded look that crosses his face whenever he's in pleasure.

And it feels like a reward when his own jaw drops open with a moan. But then he's biting onto the junction of your neck like he's trying to silence himself, and the mere thought of being deprived of his voice has you whining out. Not this again . . .

"Farleigh," you keen raggedly, almost hiccupping around the steady, repetitive thrust of his fingers. " Please, I want to hear you. Let me hear you."

There's a brief bout of silence, and for one horrible moment you think that he's going to deprive you and leave you wanting, but then he's removing his teeth from their hold on your skin and nuzzling his nose against your head. Thankfully, he doesn't try to quiet himself. He lets his lips remain parted, allowing that gorgeous, low panting to escape, pushed out by the way that he's started to grind up against you, meeting the thrust of your hips with his own.

He looks gorgeous like this, with his eyelids settled low over his eyes from an intense type of want and desire and you think that you can see a fine dusting of sweat already glittering over his skin from the low, golden light projecting from the bedroom behind the both of you. And even with the heavy grate from the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit and the pulse of his fingers building that consuming fire in your gut, you honestly think that a large portion of your pleasure is coming from just seeing him.

And you think that it might be the same for him. His gaze is fixed onto you with an almost enraptured sort of quality to his gaze, like he couldn't bear to look away from you. And with the way that you're both working yourselves against each other, it's apparent that you're just blatantly getting off on seeing the other becoming worked up and clouded over with desire.

The sounds of your joined moaning and gasps are amplified within the cradle of the bathroom walls, and it just makes your body burn all the more hotter. Your eyes nearly roll back when his fingertips brush against that debilitating spot inside of you, and your back arches involuntarily, drawing tight like a bowstring.

"Right there, huh, baby?" He coos a little condescending, but you couldn't care less. Not with how he's working his fingers so well. Threatening to tear you apart and make you unravel with a few more well-placed swipes. And you just nod. Anything to satisfy him and have him keep going. To nudge you closer and closer to that wonderful, tempting edge and guide you over it.

"You really want to cum, don't you?" There's a taunting quality to his voice that easily would have tipped you off if your mind wasn't fogged over with lust but right now you're too caught up in feeling to even focus. It takes everything to even reply to him, though it comes out as more of a breathless huff of pleasure rather than an articulated response. And he's got that satisfied grin on his lips. Like he has you right where he wants you. "Then go get on the bed."

That's the only warning you get before he's slipping his fingers from your cunt and cruelly stepping away from you. The glare that you give him is full of hurt and scathing, and you can feel the dull rise of your approaching orgasm fading into a taunting, warm pulse between your legs and your walls flutter around nothing. But he doesn't appear to be guilty in the slightest. Instead, he's lifting the hand that he had used to fuck you and places his fingers onto his tongue to suck the gauzy sheen of your cum from them.

It has that desire flaring again and whatever quip you had at the ready extinguishing before you could even try to get it out. And you're quick to turn on your heels, trying to ignore the way that your knees slightly quiver with adrenaline and anticipation as you make your way towards the threshold of the bathroom. Though, you can't stop yourself from shooting Farleigh a look when he plants a slap on your ass when you walk past him to the bedroom.

But regardless of your frustration, you're doing exactly as he told you and crawling back onto the plush mattress of his bed as soon as you cross the wooden floorboards. You move up on your hands and knees until you reach the pillows, and then you twist around onto your back to get comfortable, swallowing around a shaky breath.

It takes you by complete surprise when Farleigh sweeps over you, urging you to fall onto the inviting warmth of the bedding as he climbs over your body. You hadn't even realized that he was following that closely behind, but you don't even have time to think on it before his lips are connecting with your own, urging you into heated exchange that completely siphons the oxygen from your lungs.

And his hands are everywhere, like he's trying to feel every groove and notch of you to collect it and put it away for safekeeping. Like he's trying to memorize your body. He tastes sweet, like peppermint and ice, no doubt from the toothpaste that he had just used a bit earlier. But there's something earthy on his lips too that you gradually come to recognize as your own cum, and it has you moaning into his mouth brokenly. It prompts you to claw the boxers around his waist just like he's doing to your own, the both of you are desperate to get the pieces of fabric from your bodies so that you could finally just feel each other.

You both separate yourselves from the kiss just long enough for you to prop yourself up to tear his sweater from your body and you don't miss the way that his eyes immediately rove down to your exposed breasts. And as much as you'd love to feel him touching them, you still need to taste his lips on your own. It has you cradling his face in your palms and dragging him down to reconnect your mouth to his in an exchange of tongue and teeth.

You're both moaning into each other, taking in the others air and gulping in it like it's your own. The atmosphere surrounding the room is thick and charged with something so frenzied and wild that it feels like electricity is getting ready to spill over you. It has you reaching down for the boxers that he's wearing and tugging at them like they've offended you personally. And right now, they kind of are, covering him up and keeping you from properly feeling him. Thankfully, he understands what you want, and he shuffles back just enough, rising on his knees to hook his thumbs into the band secured around his hips to work them down his legs.

For a moment you can't help but admire him once the length of his cock springs out from the cloth of his boxers, but the outright desperate whine that leaves him when you stopped touching him for too long is quick to spur you into action. And you follow after him, reaching to help pull them off, but you have to nudge him on his chest, silently directing him to fall back onto the mattress. And he lets you, settling down so that you tug them past his knees and then off his feet to toss them carelessly across the room.

But then he's on you again, quicker than you can even blink, and now you're the once again the one laying with their back against the bed. He looms over you with something hungry and eager burning in his eyes and it has your body involuntarily writhing to press up against his own. Distraught with the need to just feel him. He's quick to tear your boxers off with an equal fervor, but he doesn't wait for you to try and help him. He practically rips them off of you, nearly dragging you down the bed when they briefly catch on one of the heels of your feet.

You spread your legs to let him fully settle between their cradle and the weight of his length pressing against the wet heat of your cunt nearly makes you sob out loud. But unfortunately, despite the frenzy that had overcame him before, he still seems to be in the mood to tease, at least somewhat. Because instead of offering the both of you the relief that you crave and just fucking you, he just settling himself over you, leaning the brunt of weight on his elbows as he ducks his head down low and takes one of your nipples into the sweltering heat of his mouth.

You cry out when he sucks at it, tracing it with the tip of his tongue and gently tugging at it with the barely-there scrape of his teeth. It makes you grip onto his shoulders for some sort of tether. Anything to keep you from just floating away from your body. But he doesn't give you any sort of reprieve before he starts to grind against you, dragging his cock through the slick warmth of your cunt and nudging the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit with the head of his length.

Your fingernails drag across the skin of his back, but it doesn't hurt him if the way that he groans around your breast is any indication. You can't do anything other than just lying back and taking it. And as impatient as you feel, you can't deny that it feels good to try and endure the sweet torture of him making you wait. And you just allow yourself to fall into the melted, sugary haze filling up your skull.

Your legs fall open wider when his cock slips across you and brushes over your entrance, and for one blessed moment you think that he might actually fuck you. But he doesn't. He just continues to grind steadily; increasing that stifling, profound heat in your body, and it trickles down the individual notches of your spine until it's pouring between the cradle of your hips and settling between your thighs like something molten and inextinguishable and fluid.

His lips leave your breast with an audible pop but he's fast to shift over and take your other nipple into his mouth, moaning around your chest and teasing the rigid, sensitive skin with the suction of his tongue. It makes you whimper, a little pathetic and certainly needy, and you can feel the vibrations of his smug laughter dancing across your skin.

It pisses you off, the outright way that he's teasing you and as good as this is, as good as it feels, you need him. You can't keep yourself from removing your hands from the expanse of his back and taking his face back into your hands to move his head from your breast to look at you. Something flickers in his eyes, it could have been a mild form of irritation, but you aren't exactly in the best state of mind to be sure. It melts away just as quickly as it had been there, shifting into something satisfied and fond at the sight of you and there's a dazed sort of quality to his gaze too. And you're pretty sure that you look just as drunk on your lust as he does.

"Farleigh, please. " You beg shamelessly, panting against his lips as you press desperate, pronounced kisses against his lips. You can feel the way that he's smirking underneath each peck, but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. You're too worked up, and the constant, languid drag of his cock against your clit is doing wonders to evaporate every single coherent thought from your brain. "I need you. Please, I need you to just fuck me - please -"

"Yeah, you do need me, don't you?" It's said such a matter-of-fact way but even with that haze stuffing your head, you swear that you can see something pass over his expression. Something that almost looks vulnerable and maybe even insecure. It reminds you off his earlier confession. How he had admitted that he'd always assumed that you had a crush on Felix, or that you would eventually come to develop one at the very least.

It reminds you of your own jealously that you had felt every time that you saw someone with their arms wrapped around his neck or exchanging a flirty set of words. How it had always threatened to choke you with the searing, ugly heat. It hurts you to think that he may still carry that pain now, even while he's wrapped up in your embrace.

"I need you, " you agree. And you do your best to pour all of your emotions into it, to telegraph to him that it's so much more than sex talk. That you want him to know that you do actually need him. That it's been him. That it's always been him. "I need you, Farleigh. Just you."

And it must work. The scope of your emotions must show across your face because something affectionate and tender melts over his features and he confirms that he's heard you with subtle nod.

"I've got you, " he says, pressing a long, wanting kiss to your lips. "I got you, baby."

And he lifts one of his hands down to take ahold of his girth while he softly rotates his hips, grinding the head of his cock around your clit one last time before he's finally guiding himself into your heat. The moan that leaves you is punched out and ragged already, and your walls clench and flutter around him as he splits you open, gradually feeding you every glorious inch at a time. Letting you feel all of it as it slips inside until he's physically stopped by the press of his hips against yours.

He's panting already too, groaning lowly from the way that your pussy won't stop pulsing around him as it adjusts to his length. But you can't help it. Not when he feels so good. And your eyes fix onto the delicate necklaces draped from his neck, focusing on the pendants dangling from them to try and keep yourself present.

You don't even have to beg. He's drawing back until it's just his tip inside of you and then he's thrusting forward in a way that leaves you breathless. But it isn't rapid or ardent like it was last night or even just a little earlier, instead it's unhurried and savoring. The both of you seeming to come to the conclusion that you don't have to scramble zealously. That the both of you already have each other. That neither of you are going to leave the other and you could fully relish in your bodies and presence completely unrushed.

Your hips lift on their own, instinctively rocking to meet the languorous pattern that he's set, and it has your head rolling back. But even while you're fully basking in the rapturous drag of his cock, you can't pull your eyes from him. The burning, smoldering fog taking over you can't keep you from admiring him and the way that the golden sunlight has highlighted the flecks of a rich bronze and even some faint glints of copper in his hair. There's a thin layer of sweat perspiring on the warm shade of his skin and that pinched furrow between his eyebrows is back, telling you that he's enjoying this just as much as you are.

And the pleasure is washing over you like heated butter, making your toes curl and fingers twist into the sheets for something to keep you roped here; from drifting off from this moment and getting lost. The breathless moans leaving his chest just work you up even more, making you desperate and wanton.

He's ducking his head down to mouth at your exposed neck, taking advantage of the way that your head is still tilted back. And he reaches down to grip at one of your thighs, notching it up higher around his waist and it somehow makes you feel all that closer. Eliminating just a few centimeters worth of space between the two of you but it's enough to have you gasping.

"Farleigh," you cry. And you reach one of your hands up to clasp his upper arm, feeling the muscles underneath flex with each shift from his hips. He grinds into you with each thrust, rolling his hips in a way that has his pelvis grinding over your clit and liquefying your brain into useless mush. It almost feels like too much. It's lighting you on fire and scorching you from the inside out. And the sweet kisses that he's peppering across your skin doesn't help your case. It just helps to make you feel even more adrift, lost in a seizing current and frothing waves.

You can distantly feel him tenderly nuzzle his nose between the valley of your breast, and the sensation of his tongue trailing across your chest quickly follows, tasting the salt of your skin. And the head of his cock brushes against that spot within you that makes you squirm and sob, and you can tell that the way that you've begun to helplessly jerk underneath him is just the reaction that he was searching for, judging by the feel of his smirk against your body. That he's absolutely reveling in the way that tears have begun to prickle at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure ravaging your body; threatening to spill.

And as cocky as he may be, you can tell that he's not doing much better. The shameless way that he's moaning out gives away as much; airy and debauched.

God, he sounds so hot, it has that fluid warmth steadily rising up again, just threatening to tip over you and sweep you away. It has you fucking yourself against him with ardor, whimpering at the persistent cant of his hips. And you keep tightening yourself around the shape of his length, determined to drag him down with you, to feel him come undone and spill over.

You can tell that he's getting close with the way that his breath his hitching. That you're both hanging off the precipice of something extraordinary and debilitating and it makes you cling to him harder, swinging your other leg around his waist to hold him closer, to try and ground yourself. But the air in your lungs keeps getting choked out, and you're barely able to get your warning out from your lungs. "Farleigh, " you moan, gasping. " I'm gonna cum. Farleigh - "

He just nods against your chest, huffing and panting over your skin. "I know, baby, I can feel it."

One of your hands blindly searches around, scrambling for his own that he has somewhere above your head. And he seems to take notice of your unseeing pursuit because soon his fingers are slipping between your own and clenching your palm in a soothing, reaffirming gesture. It has pure devotion blooming within your chest, so strong that it feels as though you might fall apart and burn alight with it.

He lifts his head from its place on your chest, subtly shifting forward without disrupting the pace that he's set so that he could settle his forehead against yours, using the angle to look into your eyes. And the warmth reflecting in them makes you feel like the only being in the world. Coveted and adored and you can only hope that he's able to recognize the same reverence and affection in your own gaze. That he truly understands how much you actually care and want for him.

And the sheer breadth of your feelings, of his, of this moment has that all-consuming chasm opening up underneath you and threatening to swallow you whole. But you just need something. Just something small to finally tip you over.

"Farleigh, " you beg. And it's like he can just sense it. Or maybe he can just feel it in the way that your muscles have all coiled up and tensed in anticipation. Because you don't even have to ask or clarify before he's reaching down between your bodies and swiping his fingers over the slick, swollen bud of your clit in brushes that have your jaw dropping open.

"Farleigh!" This time you all but scream it as your body seizes almost violently, sweeping you underneath a blazing torrent. It's like being scalded by the sun in an exquisite burn, like breathing after drowning. It's pure pleasure. Complete ecstasy. And the entire time, you're fully aware of feel of Farleigh's body against your own. The way that his thrusts have gone choppy and lurching. You can still hear the way that he's moaning and whimpering even though it sounds muffled and distant and miles away while your brain goes blissfully blank from the brunt of all molten elation pouring throughout your limbs, making you go limp.

But even throughout all of the overwhelming pleasure taking over you, you hardly allow your eyes to flutter closed; desperate to see him come undone. You can tell that he's close. Just seconds from spilling over and getting swept up just as you had. And it has you squeezing yourself around him, desperate to urge him closer to his orgasm, despite the raw, sensitivity clinging to your nerves.

"I want you to cum, " you say breathlessly. His face twists up in response, and his hips twitch with just a bit more vigor. "Please, baby, I want to feel it. I need to feel you."

And that seems to be enough to tip him over the edge, because his body goes rigid, nearly curling in on itself while a torn, frayed moan rips from his lungs and the heat of his cum fills you. His breath catches while he uses you to ride out the rest of his orgasm, and his muscles shudder while he grinds into you with weak, uncoordinated thrusts before he goes lax with a strained gasp.

He lets himself go boneless on top of you, sinking into your body with a light, satisfied sigh. But the weight of him isn't uncomfortable. It feels good, and you have no desire to make him or yourself shift while you soak in the afterglow. Everything is hazy and comforting, and it feels as though all of the energy has been sapped from your body, but in the best way.

You can hear the birds outside again, singing and jovial, and the scent of the sweet summer air is still drifting through the window. It's pure peace, with the feel of his form up against you. All of the chemicals moving around in your brain make it difficult to focus, but even then, you're aware enough to notice him briefly reaching down to gather up the comforter, which had shifted in the mad scramble of your bodies to pull it up over the both of you.

And you can hear yourself moan quietly when he rotates you both without pulling himself out from the heat of your body. So now that you're the one tucked into the cradle of his chest, but all you get is a gentle hush in response. And with the heat radiating from his skin and the cushion of the blankets cocooned around you both it already has you slipping into the hold of sleep as you both settle. But even with the lull of unconsciousness threatening to spill over you, you can't hide from the volume of the emotions welling up within you. It all feels unexplainable. All-encompassing and bright. Like it might burst. Like it might eat you alive. But not violently. It's soft and delicate and fiery, and the sheer gravity of it has you struggling to grapple with it.

You know what it is. What you're feeling. But that's another step to take entirely.

"We've still got some time to catch up on some sleep, " you hear him mumble above you in a gentle rasp. "I'll wake you up."

You just hum in response, but not without placing a small peck onto his chest and nuzzling against him, purely content. And you think that you feel him place a kiss onto the crown of your head in turn and you're unable to fight the smile that curves at your lips.

You fall asleep in his arms with that single, world altering word on the tip of your tongue. A small, otherwise harmless but no doubt powerful word that sounds a lot like love.

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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can you do a blurb about alpha harry freaking out when yn comes to his place smelling like another alpha (she hugged one or bumped into one or something) and being all grumpy and wanting to get rid of it 🤭

oh absolutelyyyyy we love our possessive frat alpha harry!!!! this is on the shorter side but part two will be the mating blurb😙😙

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: a/o/b content (mentions of knotting/spicy but no smut), harry being jealous and possessive

frat alpha harry concept tag

main masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

Harry wrinkles his nose the second Y/N steps into his bedroom.

"You reek."

It comes out without him even thinking about it, Y/N's jaw immediately dropping as she whips around, a shocked expression on her face.

"Sorry— sorry, that was rude," he mumbles, raising his hand to tug at his messy curls, "It's just— you smell like another alpha. A different one... like, not me."

"You could've stopped at 'another alpha.' I got it then."

He's currently resisting the urge to plug his nose — all he wants to do is throw her over his shoulder and put her in the shower, washing away the fragrance of whoever she'd been around, and scenting her until he couldn't tell who was who. The thought of his omega girl smelling like an alpha that wasn't him made him feel physically sick, bile rising in his throat as the smell continues to permeate his small bedroom.

"Who were you with?" he demands, any attempt at niceties being thrown out the window. It was difficult for him not to get increasingly aggressive the more she stood there, arms crossed over her chest like this whole thing wasn't making Harry sick.

"I told you, I had to work on a group project with some people from my humanities lecture. I just spent, like, three hours in the library with them."

"And were you sitting in a nest of their stuff or something?"

Y/N sends him an annoyed glare, toeing her shoes off in the entry of his room. There's still a decent distance between them, Harry all the way on the other side with an irritated wrinkle formed between his brows.

"Harry, you know I wasn't," she lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over her face. "I'm exhausted. I don't wanna argue about this, you know it's not my fault."

The genuine response strikes a chord within him and he suddenly feels awful for accusing of her doing anything that would purposely cause her scent to alter. He swallows harshly, trying to push away his natural alpha instincts in favor or apologizing to his girl.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, eyes falling to the carpeted floor. "You're right, it's not your fault. It just... pisses me off."

"I know it does. I'm sorry, too. I could've gone home and showered before I came over."

Harry shrugs, though his heart twitches at the thought of her natural fragrance: sweet and woody, nostalgic and comforting. The only thing he ever wants to smell for the rest of his life.

"But... you know," she says softly, a flirtatious lilt to her voice, "No alpha would even think about getting close to me if I had a pretty bite mark on my neck."

A breathy chuckle leaves Harry. "I know, baby. You deserve more than just a random night in this shitty frat house, though."

"I don't care, though—"

"I know you don't, but I do," he murmurs lowly, taking a step towards her. "You're my mate, yeah? Wanna make it perfect."

He lifts his thumb to pluck at her bottom lip.

"Are you gonna let me make it perfect for you?"

The sentiment makes her feel melty and weak in the knees, so all she's able to do is nod her head slowly. He smiles.

"There's my good omega," he says, and her stomach starts to feel like Jell-O. It's always this way when his voice starts to lower and he speaks to her as if she's the only person in the world. She gets tunnel vision, like he's the sole focus of her attention, and it'll only ever be that way.

"How will you make it perfect?" she manages to whisper out.

"Hmm," he hums, tilting his head slightly as he contemplates her question. "Think I'll take you on a trip somewhere. Maybe somewhere tropical so you can walk around in those pretty bathing suits I know you're dying to wear," she blushes, and it makes him chuckle. "I'll spend the whole day spoiling you. We'll lay out on the beach and I'll put sunscreen all over that perfect body of yours. And when we get tired, I'll carry you back to our room."

Her breath hitches in her throat, the imagery clear as day in her head as he speaks.

"Won't even care if your hair's dirty from the ocean or you have sand everywhere— I'll kiss every inch of your body, hm?" he presses a kiss just below her ear lobe and she shivers. "Stick my tongue in that cute pussy and make you squirt over and over until you're begging for me to mate you. Make sure you cum plenty before I put my cock inside of you and fuck you 'til you're all swollen with my knot."

He catches her ear between his teeth, biting gently. He can smell the arousal slicking in her panties and the warmth radiating from her desperate pussy. "And then... when you're shivering and shaking the way you do, I'll bite you. Make you my pretty fuckin' omega girl with the sweetest bite mark on your neck."

She swallows loudly and he hums, giving her hip a small squeeze.

"Now go take a shower. I need to scent you before I go insane."

#bestie asks #writing #abo harry

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little-worm-grant · 4 months

Text

Spicy Steven: Rainy Day

Steven Grant x You (Fem!Reader)

1,864 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: What if Steven got all embarrassed he couldn’t last?! It's far too easy to wind him up. But maybe you both girlbossed a little too close to the sun this time. Less plot, more smut.

Notes: Please be kind. First time publicly publishing smut. I was looking at my tame + wholesome masterlist thinking I should write something new for Steven. Then this filth was forced upon my innocent little swiss-cheese brain. You can take my keyboard away from me now. I’m sorry. But also you’re welcome.

Warnings: soft domme fem!reader, submissive Steven kind of but not totally??, teasing, fluff/praise, masturbation, piv sex, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, cum play

You were lying naked on his bed. Rain pouring outside had caused you to stay over his place a few hours more. One thing led to another. You’d barely teased him but Steven was already crawling up your body. Kissing all the spots he’d missed going down. Tilting your head to catch sight of his thickened cock swinging between each movement. Your legs shift to squeeze against him in anticipation. You knew what was coming next and you couldn’t wait another second.

He was like some over-eager puppy given the okay to come up for air. That talented mouth of his became over-stimulation at this point. You once asked him what he thought about when he went down on you, expecting him to say something daft that would stop him from making a mess of the sheets. Instead, he told you he’d been writing how he felt about you in hieroglyphics. The sucking is just a bonus because he loved the taste of you. He didn’t need to do much to get your pussy to flutter. He never did make you work for it. If only he knew the power he held over you, he’d be downright dangerous.

Ever since the first time you’d gotten intimate with each of them, Steven was the only one to never tell you no. You sometimes worried you’d do something he wouldn’t like and he might not tell you as you cuddled together afterwards. When he looked back at you with those bold expressive eyes, it told you everything you needed to know. You realized all you wanted to do was take good care of him.

Steven clumsily crawled up to meet your lips. The taste of you on his tongue. His body shifted and an arm slithers between the two of you. A moment later, you feel him stroking his head across your soaked folds. Guiding himself home. You’ve been suffering through his fingers and his mouth already. More than ready to feel him fully.

When he takes a second too long for your patience, you order him to lie back.

Flipping positions. You help him down the last part of the way with a push and a smile. His cock had slipped out somewhere in the movements. Not a problem. You were up on your knees over him. Steven lay back, looking both entirely surprised to be there and not letting his focus up for what came next.

You reach down and give him a few exploratory pumps. Being gentle, starting from the head where most of the pre-cum and your fluids had accumulated. You use just your middle finger and thumb to smear it over his thick spongy head, dragging it down to the bundle of nerves to play with. Gentle back-and-forth motions. Steven jerked with his whole body. Quickly throwing his lip into a bite to hold back the noise. He wasn’t fooling anyone. You still heard it. Came out more like a whine.

“Pretty boy. How about another moan for me?” You coo. He looked back at you like a wounded animal. Those curls on his face framed him just right for the compliment.

“This ain’t on. You’ve been bloody teasing me all night.” He shook his head. His hands palmed at the bedsheets on either side of him. Even after all this time, he still never seemed to know what to do with his hands. Adorable.

You look away from him. Watching the rain beat down on the windows. Pretending not to know he’s there while you continue to stroke. He could tell you to stop if he wanted, but you both knew he wasn’t about to do that. Instead, he squirmed and tolerated it for as long as he could before his words managed to find the tip of his tongue.

“Please? I don’t want to be the twat that jizzes on himself because my girl’s stunning but she’s an absolute menace.”

Shuffling up a little more you stop stroking and kept your hand still around him. “Oh, I’m a menace, am I?” Offering a gentle squeeze. Steven squirmed without trying to move away, looking like he was about to burst then and there. His cheeks turn a lovely shade of red as he nodded and scrambled to find a comeback to say.

“Uh-huh. Yup- The kind that looks at a beautiful sunrise and tells it to buggar off for a few more hours sleep.”

“No-one needs to be making anything at that time my business. What’s that got to do with me being a menace?”

“It’s got everything to do with-“

You lined yourself up while he rambled. Sinking down on him without warning. Finding a way to shut him up. You slid down far as you could tolerate before you needed to slow down the last part of the way. The stretch tingled. You catch a stuttered breath in your throat.

“Oh- oh god.” He spluttered out. Hands flying away from the bedsheets to grip at your thighs, as if searching for some kind of stability. There was none. Him holding you like that wasn’t going to stop you. Hips wiggled slowly from side to side to fit yourself snugly onto him.

You grind down and start slow. Finding that pace you liked where his cock would hit the spot just right. Small noises came from him. Breathier ones from you. You’d barely started rocking against him before you felt him shudder. His eyes were rolled back and you felt his cock pumping a hot mess deep inside you.

Game over.

Steven held you a little tighter before releasing his grip. Face going pale. Surprising himself. “Shit- I am so so sorry.” He looked as mortified as he sounded. Hands coming up to cover his face he groaned.

You laugh lightly and shake your head at him. Stopping immediately to lower yourself down onto him to rest. Leaning down to bring your face in closer to his. Hands moved on his, guiding them away from his face to hold down against the pillow. Boy looked like he could use a hug. Instead, you squeeze his hands in yours. Rubbing your nose against his.

“Aw no, baby, don’t feel bad. It’s okay. I’m still having fun. You already got me off once, be proud of that.”

You shower his face in peppered kisses. His softer hands stroke up your sides. Could have mistaken him for Marc with all that guilt lining his features. You stroke his knuckles with your thumbs and kiss away his embarrassment once more. A little longer lasting this time.

“I’ll take the blame for that. I’ve been teasing you for ages. Or maybe I’m just that good you can’t control yourself around me.”

You move your hand away from him to pretend to wipe the glitter off your shoulder. Glitter was an inside joke you both shared regularly. That got a laugh out of him and you feel the movement of his softer cock slipping out from inside you. You shifted to the feeling of it. The mess he’d made coming with it. Pooling on his abdomen and leaking down your legs.

“You are so amazing.” He tells you. "Can I touch you?"

Nodding, you bite your lip when his hand wiggles out from under yours and goes down. Feeling his fingers immediately stroke over your used needy hole had you tensing up. You press into his touch. Steven leaned back up to meet your lips. Less desperate this time, more loving. You hear his words murmured against you.

“I feel bad I keep making a mess before you can finish.”

“Don’t be. Just means we need to try again, right?” You say more hopefully, a glint of a smile when you lean back to see him nod without any words. More concentrated on what he was doing to you.

You feel Steven’s fingers leaving you alone. Casting your eyes down to see what he was doing, you watch him scoop up some of the mess from his abdomen then bring it up to stuff back into you. The temperature difference was felt and caused you to shiver. The way his fingers lazily toyed with the cum on your pussy warmed you back up from the inside out.

He brought his other arm up behind his head to be able to watch better. Your hands stayed where they are, pressed into the pillow either side of him. His fingers caught cum drooling down your legs to spread over your pussy. Slow strokes before he’d go find some more, either from around you or inside. You were already wound up from everything, needing that blissful high he could put you into. Hips rocking, chasing his touch. A few more minutes of this had you trembling and him stiff as a rock again. Maybe he did know what to do with his hands after all.

This time. There was no waiting. No holding back. The moment Steven was aligning himself you were sinking down and seeking out that spot with more ferocity than you’d had before. Steven matched your rhythm with coordinated thrusts.

Pushing himself to sit up and catch your nipple in his mouth. He sucked sloppily, then moving up after your mouth. Hand slipped between you both again to play with you. Firmer. More in that way you'd shown him you liked. It was your turn to grip onto him for stability. Swallowing each other's moans and thrusting roughly until you both finished. You first, him following a few thrusts later.

The kisses turned softer. You lay back in bed together and stroked over each others bare skin. Air coming back to your lungs as you both come down from the clouds you were on.

You see him thinking loudly with that familiar distant stare. Off in his own world again. A moment later he was blinking as he snapped back into the moment, focusing back on you. You wait to see who it might be. His expression changed all shy and it made you laugh. Still Steven then.

“What?”

“I was just thinking. We should have more rainy days like this. But like, every day.”

“Yeah? I’d like that.”

“Wouldn’t need to leave if it was every day. This'd be your place too.”

“Is this your way of asking me to move in?”

“That’s uh- I think- I mean, yeah? I guess it is. What do you think?”

“Say it then. Ask me properly.”

“Alright.” He shifted onto his side. His hand in his hair to prop his head up and look down at you. “Will you move in with me?”

Without a beat, you smile and say, “No.” His face contorted up. You soften up your smile and squeeze him. “I need to talk to the others first. Otherwise, yes.”

“Had me for a second then… You flipping menace.” He dove down to tackle you with kisses and playful bites which have you squirming and unable to breathe through the laughter. Pushing back to try and pin him down. Wouldn't matter if it turned into something more. You both had all the time in the world. The perfect way to spend a rainy day.

#steven grant #oscar isaac #moon knight #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x fem!reader #mcu fanfiction #steven grant smut #mcu smut #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfiction #open rp #open starter #stevens pov

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enid-rhees · 7 months

Note

hiii i was wondering if i could request a hazel x reader fic where isabel hosts a party and the fight club all play seven minutes in heaven and reader gets paired with hazel and things get a lil hot n heavy

omg yes yes i love this sm !! tysm for your request anon <3 !!

— warnings: heavy make out session, nothing too spicy [MINORS DNI]

— a/n: i am now officially writing for Hazel 🫶🏻

“what are we? TWELVE?” Josie shouted, as PJ just suggested you all try to play Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Isabel had thrown a party only days after the fight on the field, and everyone in the fight club was invited. you took a seat next to Brittany, but also directly across from Hazel.

from your observation, she looked nervous, like she didn’t want to be here. you guessed that parties like this weren’t her thing, and they weren’t yours either.

she looked over at you, your eyes meeting. but you immediately broke your eyes away from hers, putting your attention back on PJ.

“oh c’mon! don’t be like that, it’ll be fun!” PJ argued back, “we have enough people! pleaseee!”

“okay! fine! let’s play it.” Josie finally gave in, sitting down next to Isabel. you chuckled at the small bicker, shaking your head slightly.

Isabel placed an empty beer bottle in the center of the circle. “so whichever two people it lands on, they have to go inside that bedroom,” she pointed to a bedroom behind Hazel, “and spend seven minutes inside of there. and don’t be fucking lame and sit in silence.”

you took a deep breath and crossed your legs, leaning your arms on your knees and holding your head up on the back of your hands. Isabel spun the bottle, and it rotated around everyone, and then slowed down, eventually landing on… Hazel.

Hazel stared at the bottle with a blank expression while everyone started to cheer. meanwhile, your heart has dropped. the thought of Hazel being with someone else in there hurt just a tiny bit.

“Hazel! you will be going with…” Isabel trailed off as she spun the bottle once more. it felt like an eternity, just watching the bottle spin and spin. you blinked, and suddenly the bottle was on you. “Y/N!”

cheering erupted from the girls once more. you looked up at Hazel, who was blushing profusely. your heart rate sped up, and then Isabel was pulling you up by the hand, pushing you towards Hazel.

“you have seven minutes! no more, no less! and do something good!” she shouted as she pushed the two of you inside the bedroom. she closed and locked the door.

the two of you stood frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say. you swore Hazel might’ve been able hear your heartbeat from how hard it was beating.

“one of us needs to say something.” Hazel pleaded in a whisper. “what am i supposed to say in this situation?” you responded back.

there was a moment of silence before Hazel spoke up again, “i’ve… noticed the way you’ve looked at me before.” you looked away from her when she said that, now looking down at the ground.

Hazel sighed and walked closer to you. she grabbed your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes again. she pulled you closer, and then your lips met.

it took you a moment to process what was happening, but then you grabbed her waist and kissed back. her lips felt so good on yours, it didn’t even feel real in that moment.

Hazel gently pushed you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fell back on it. she crawled on top of you, keeping you locked in underneath her. your lips reconnected in a messy and needy kiss.

you had spent months fantasizing about this very moment, you underneath Hazel while she kissed you with all she had. your bodies tangled with each other, your hands wandering over her body, just wanting to take in every little bit of Hazel.

she kissed you feverishly, barely breaking apart from your lips to breathe. Hazel didn’t want to lose a second of any minute she would spend in here with you, not knowing if this would be the only time she would ever get to have you like this.

Hazel eventually broke away from you, but only to connect her lips to your neck. the shy, quiet version of Hazel you were so used to seeing had vanished, leaving you quite taken aback at how she was acting right now. you gasped as her lips softly sucked on the skin of your neck.

“Haze,” you whimpered, and she pulled away to look you in the eyes. you tangled your fingers through her hair and pushed her back down onto your lips.

you didn’t want this moment to end. anything to keep kissing Hazel like this, you would do it. she was so addicting, you still couldn’t believe this moment was actually happening.

Hazel’s hands slid under your shirt, and you shivered at how cold they were. she squeezed the skin of your hips, softly kneading the skin. you sighed into her lips, keeping your fingers locked in her hair.

the door suddenly swung open, not giving Hazel any time to pull away from you. all you heard was a screaming cheer in PJ’s voice. “shit, they were actually about to fuck.” Josie exclaimed from beside her.

Hazel crawled off of you and you both stood awkwardly next to each other, despite what just happened not even thirty seconds ago. “your time is up, girls.” Isabel smirked, “but it seemed like you two lost track of time, hm?”

her face turned a bright red while yours burned, and you two were suddenly avoiding eye contact once more. you walked out of the room and she followed seconds later. you leaned against the wall while she stood next to you still.

“i’ve been wanting to do that. for a while now.” Hazel admitted out of nowhere. you looked over at her, smiling slightly. “me too.”

she walked closer to you, now leaning on the wall with you. “you know,” you spoke again, and swallowed a knot in your throat. “we could always… ditch this party and go to my place.”

Hazel stared at you for a moment, before taking your hand in hers and dragging you to the front door, not even bothering to let the girls know that you were leaving.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x fem!reader #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023

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reminiscingtonight · 5 months

Text

Gay 4 Me

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: A little spiciness, talks about solo-action if you get my drift. Based on the G Flip and Lauren Sanderson song

[WOSO Masterlist]

You find out by accident.

Katie, shit-stirrer she is, is in the midst of ribbing the fuck out of Alessia. The striker had missed one too many goals, one too many passes, one too many everythings at practice and the Irish woman’s taking too much joy in rubbing it in her face.

“Mate, you’re too stressed. Gotta find yourself a lovely lad or someone to work out the tension.”

“There’s no tension, Katie!”

“Tell that to your shoulders,” the brunette snorts, fingers flicking at Alessia’s shoulder.

The blonde bats her hands away, a frown on her face. “There’s no tension,” Alessia repeats, annoyance leaking into her voice.

“There’s no shame in getting a bit of help, Lessi.” Katie shrugs. “I might judge your taste in… partners, but that’s exactly what they’re for. To help us relax a bit.”

“I don’t need help relaxing,” Alessia huffs.

It takes a second, but Katie eventually gets what the blonde’s telling her. Katie’s mouth splits into a devilish grin. The Irish woman’s always more than happy to get too close and personal, invading everyone’s private lives.

“What, your fantasies that good?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “I never said they’re fantasies, McCabe.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say straight sex is that good to be reminiscing about.”

“Well I never said it was straight sex now did I?”

Katie’s mouth drops open and Alessia uses the moment of reprieve to push past the Irish woman.

You tuned into the conversation the second the two of them made it into the locker room. You’re not sure what it is but something about Alessia is just so magnetic, always drawing you in no matter what you’re doing.

So yeah, you’re already listening to Alessia and Katie’s bickering when you find out that Alessia apparently has no qualms getting some solo action. But those words paired with blue eyes flashing towards you has you struggling to swallow.

Good lord.

Alessia Russo touches herself to the memories of the two of you having sex. And she just admitted it to the whole locker room.

(Not that the girls know which memories she’s getting off to, of course)

A bolt of arousal shoots right through you as you drop your head, face flaming red.

You can still remember the night it happened. The taste of tequila sharp on your tongue after a night out with the team. You’ll argue that the alcohol lowered your inhibitions but truthfully nothing but pure lust made you trail after your blonde teammate out of the bar. Alessia felt soft under you, the noises she made sounding like music to your ears. What she lacked in experience she clearly made up for in skill, easily bringing you to the precipice multiple times just as you did her.

Just the thought of sweet little innocent Lessi, hand shoved between her legs, nothing on her mind but your hot night together as she brings herself to release makes you want to take her apart right here right now.

The feel of a hand trailing down your back has you hurtling back into the present, breath caught in your throat in surprise. Alessia seems amused when you start hacking away. Her hand stays in place as she hands you your water bottle.

“All good?” Her face is the picture perfect example of innocence but you can see right through her.

“All good?” you mock, shoving at her lightly. Alessia laughs, discreetly running her hand down your arm, pausing to give your bicep an appreciative squeeze before taking it back.

“Of course.” Her words are paired with teeth biting her bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to sink your own teeth into the rosy skin.

“You’re killing me, Less,” you groan under your breath.

“You can’t seriously be blaming me, can you? Was quite rude how you left me with an ache if I’m being honest.”

Eyes bulging at Alessia’s confession, you find yourself choking on yet another breath.

It’s the way she says it without any embarrassment, eyes glimmering with a slight challenge, that takes you off guard.

Deep in your head you can still hear your cousin’s warning when Alessia first signed for Arsenal. Ella had backed you into a corner at a family gathering, finger digging into your sternum the second you walked through the doors.

“Alessia’s my best mate and she’s the sweetest and most innocent girl ever. You better take care of her when she joins your stupid little club or so help me I will make your life a living hell the next time we see each other.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell Ella that she seemed as threatening as a scraggly chihuahua. But you promised her that you would watch out for the blonde.

If only Ella could see her best friend now. Not so innocent and pure as she thought.

Though you really have no one to blame for that but yourself.

You know your cheeks are burning right now and you pray that none of your teammates are paying close attention to you and Alessia. If anyone was, they’d instantly know you guys are talking about things less than PG friendly.

Nervously chuckling, you keep your eyes trained to your bag, trying to ignore the way you can feel Alessia staring at the side of your face. “That great, huh?”

Alessia clicks her tongue, an action that has your head instantly going to the gutter, remembering exactly what she could do with the muscle. “If I’d have known how good you were in bed I would have asked Ella to hook us up eons ago.”

She’s grinning when you look up at her with an incredulous expression. “Alessia!”

“What?” she laughs, easily intertwining your fingers and leading you towards the door when she realizes you’re done packing. She leads you past a still dumbfounded Katie by the door, pausing long enough to wink at the Irish defender before you’re slipping away to the parking lot.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to endure an interrogation from the brunette in the days to follow, but right here right now, hand still caught in Alessia’s as you walk her to her car, you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much.

Especially when Alessia suddenly hooks her fingers into your belt loops and yanks, sending you crashing into her body. You tilt your head back and laugh, arms resting around her shoulder so you don’t completely barrel her over.

“Well hello there,” she winks, as if she’s not the reason you’re currently pressing her against her own car.

“Alessia,” you return evenly, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I have a bottle of tequila and microwaveable chicken nuggets at my place. Wanna recreate some memories?”

You narrow your eyes at the striker. Her smile turns a little more teasing.

“Would you rather I straight up ask for you to put your fingers--”

“Shut up and get in the car, Less.”

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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moonlightspencie · 1 year

Text

bloodmoonlit

Description: Six years of friendship with more simmering beneath the surface. They thought they had no chance (but that’s romance).

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: drinking (a lot of it tbh), both of em being massive dorks, 18+ pls bc it gets mildly spicy at the end

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: glitch is one of the best songs on midnights & nobody can convince me otherwise. anyways i didn’t proofread this sorry but i’m selfish

She was a hunter. He was… Also a hunter. Classic meet-cutes get a lot less cute when you’re meeting over the corpse of a wendigo.

Dean looked at her with awe and wonder after watching her use a flamethrower to take down a few wendigos that had started in on him. She lowered it like it was nothing after they stopped screeching into the night.

“Hey,” she greeted with a little smile. “You’re one of the Winchester boys, aren’t you?”

“Dean.”

“You’re like a modern-day folklore story, you know that?”

He chuckled, sure to make a comment about the flamethrower at the first chance. He got her number at the second chance.

They made fast friends at that point, both relentlessly flirting. Both never quite sure to what degree the other meant it.

Dean always found himself making trips towards wherever she was more often that what may be considered necessary. She never intentionally ran into him, but if she saw that impala roll up to a case, she always obliged her time. Especially if that meeting happened in a crowded bar where she could relish in the feeling of his attention being placed on her rather than anyone else who would immediately say yes to a night at his motel. Those green eyes sparkling as he chatted her up like they were the closest of friends.

Until they were the closest of friends, of course.

“How’s, uh…” Dean trailed, trying to think. “Was it Matthew?”

She snorted. “Didn’t last long.”

“Why not?”

“Never do,” she said curtly, sipping at her drink. “Non-hunter relationships don’t exactly work for me. They end up with too many questions too quick.”

He hummed, looking down at his own drink. She watched him for a moment, letting herself take a moment to admire the way neon lights bounced off his face. He always seemed to look extra pretty that way.

“Situationships,” she stated as a start, “That’s what pretty much everything I get into ends up as. Whatever works in the moment, no real strings.”

“And yet you always talk about wanting to be tied down,” he said with a smirk.

“Always is a big word,” she replied with a laugh. “I think someday I’d like that. Just don’t think it’s compatible with who I am right now.”

“You think you’re gonna change?”

“I’m always changing. That’s life, right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve changed much.”

She laughed.

“I’ve known you for a year, and even in that time you’ve gotten a little different.”

He quirked a brow. “How so?”

“Laugh a little less, but still seem a bit happier. More accepting of life as it is, I guess.”

He sat with that for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ve had to. Every time I get stubborn, I end up screwing everything up.”

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling him out of his own head before he dug too deep, “You’re always learning. Always growing. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He smiled softly, letting her words carry him out of that out. They tended to do that more and more as he faced everything the world threw at him. His affection slowly morphed into more, and he tried not to panic about it. He did what he always did best: buried it as deep as it could go.

She realized her own feelings shifting, but her realization slammed into her like a truck. They were supposed to be just friends.

It all started with little chance meetings which turned into weekly calls which turned into “Do you want to stay with Sam and I? We’ve got a permanent place now”.

She ended up moving in shortly after the boys did. Three years of knowing them, she never expected to be living with them. Especially after all they’d gone through.

Granted, she helped with some of it. She was there when they had to cram Sam’s soul back in his body. She was there for the rise and fall of Dick. She was there when Dean came back from Purgatory.

She just wasn’t constantly with them. Only a kind of side-character in their grand adventure. Now, however…

“I think that’s all,” she said, dropping a few bags on her bed.

“Oh, right, because this isn’t over-doing it at all,” Dean said, humor lacing his voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back around the empty room.

“I just— I’m excited to feel at home. I haven’t had a real place in…” she stopped, sighing.

“Yeah, I get it,” Dean spoke up, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “I was so excited to have my own bed, you have no clue.”

“I have some clue. You sent me like fifteen messages about it within the span of ten seconds,” she laughed.

“I love that memory foam, what can I say?”

“How about you get useful and help me set up shop here?” she asked, smiling at him as he already started pulling items out of the bags.

The bunker was like a hunter paradise in her eyes. She got the chance to have a place to call home. She got her own room, a million lore books, Dean, a place to do some baking, her favorite mug…

Wait. She couldn’t find her mug.

“Dean, where’d you put my mug?” she called out before he even got to the kitchen

“Stop calling me out before I’m even in the room. It’s creepy,” he said with a chuckle, walking in.

“Can’t help it. I know how you sound walkin’ around in here.”

She turned from the kitchen counter where the coffee was brewing. He watched her for a moment, smile still stuck in place.

“So?” she asked.

He raised a brow. “So…?”

She sighed. “My mug?”

“Oh,” he exclaimed, walking further towards her to open the fridge. “Made soup the other day and didn’t have any clean bowls.”

He pulled out the soup-filled mug, handing it in her direction. She quirked a brow, looking inside of it.

“I ain’t cleaning that out.”

He sighed dramatically, walking towards the sink.

“Guess I’ll do it. Princess can’t handle a few chunks of chicken in her precious mug.”

She smacked his arm lightly, scoffing.

“You’re the one who put chicken in it in the first place. You know that’s my favorite mug.”

He smirked, silently cleaning it out for her. When he was finished he turned, handing it off as he leaned against the counter.

“If my coffee is soup-flavored I’m going to have Cas smite you,” she mumbled, pouring it full.

She filled up another mug she’d pulled down in the meantime, sliding it to Dean.

“And yet, you still get me my coffee,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She hid a smile, shaking her head as she prepared hers.

“You know you love me,” he sang to her, heading towards the library.

She followed after, not even realizing what she was doing until she was halfway there. It was like they were attached at the hip.

They practically were over the following months, never not wanting to do everything together.

“Come on, Sam,” she whined. “You’re no fun.”

He smirked, attempting to leave the kitchen.

“Not all of us want to get plastered on a Tuesday night.”

“Speak for yourself” Dean said with a sparkle in his eye. He looked at Y/N. “You love getting screwed by me, right? Oh, sorry, with me.”

“Oh, yeah. My favorite activity, actually,” she said back with a smirk.

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.

“I think I’m about done listening to you two flirt, anyways.”

“Aww,” she started, leaning closer to where he stood. “You gettin’ jealous, Sammy?”

“I’m getting grossed out,” he laughed. “Goodnight.”

The two at the table said a quick goodnight, turning back to their drinks and their jokes in an instant.

“Maybe we just need to sweat it out,” he jokes, brows dancing suggestively.

She laughed. “In your dreams, Winchester. We’ve gone almost six years without a slip-up, do you really think now’s a good time to break that record?”

He contemplated for a moment, fully believing it was a good time to break it. He couldn’t think of a better time with the exception of five-and-a-half years ago. But, he decided to actually use his brain.

“Guess you’re right.”

She smiled, pretending not to be thinking about the fact that she definitely thought she was all wrong. She really though that he should have known better than anyone that she believed records were made to be broken.

“I’m always right.”

“Now you’re dreaming,” he said with a chuckle, tossing back the rest of his drink.

He poured two shots, sliding one to her.

“Here’s to almost six years— what, like, five years and ten months? Something like that?”

She nodded. “July 7th.”

He stilled a moment, not thinking about the fact that of course she would remember the day they met.

“How many days is that?”

She hummed, playing into his little game as she pulled out her phone. She typed away until she got her answer:

“2119 days if I did the math right.”

“Nineteen or ninety?”

“Nineteen.”

“What do you say we have a special celebration if we get to twenty one ninety, then?”

She snorted. “What do you constitute as special?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he winked, tossing back his shot.

She mirrored his actions, then quickly typed away again.

“What do you know? 2190 is exactly the six year mark,” she smirked. “Alright. Deal.”

Weeks passed, and life was shockingly normal in that time. Well, normal for their standards, which still included all the things that go bump in the night. After a particularly long hunt, getting back to the bunker was a relief.

All three of them went to their respective rooms to get some rest, but, as had become a pattern, Dean went knocking on Y/N’s door. She opened with a tired smile, inviting him in.

They sat around, talking about whatever topics came to mind, listening to music playing in the background. When conversation fell quiet, an idea struck her like lightening.

“Come on, Dean. A little dancing wouldn’t kill ya,” she said, moving a little to the music.

He laughed, watching her from her bed. She held out her hands, and finally took them after a few seconds. She could be very convincing, he thought.

They jumped around the room in an un-choreographed, ridiculous, messy dance that left both of them giggling and out of breath. Her music wasn’t always his style, but he sure didn’t mind listening to her sing every word with a passion as if she’d written them herself.

“See? You love this,” she exclaimed as the upbeat song faded out.

“Only because you’re making me,” he smiled.

She laughed again, starting to turn when a slow song started going. He didn’t let her get far, however, pulling her back into his chest by the hand. He played it off all nonchalant at first, ignoring the smile on her face as a bit he always liked to play anytime he started being affectionate in an unconventional way.

“Really?” she asked.

She reached up, fingertips brushing against his jaw so that he’d look at her again. He smiled softly when she did, just watching her for a few seconds.

“You wanted to dance. We’re dancing,” he said, swaying along to the melody.

“Such a gentleman.”

He smirked, not letting up in the dance. She gave in, resting her head against his shoulder as the music played. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her and letting the smell of her perfume lull him in the dance more than the song could. Her gentle humming put a smile on his face that he was grateful she couldn’t see: he was certain he’d look like a lovesick puppy.

As the song faded out, she finally pulled away enough to see him again, both of them still moving as another faded in. She looked at him with a glimmer in her eyes. He took in a slow breath, watching her face for a few moments, their movements slowing. He wanted to kiss her more than anything. So, he took an action:

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

He untethered himself from her, quickly making an exit to leave her alone and deeply confused.

She sat in the library a few days later, reading a book she found on werewolf mating habits.

“What do ya got, there?” Sam asked, walking into the room.

She glanced up, a brow raised. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

Sam snorted. “Alright.”

“You need something?”

She closed the book, setting it down on the table.

“Yeah. Do you want to hang out? I just hooked up a new TV in my room.”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “When?”

“I’m making popcorn right now.”

She laughed, agreeing as she got up. She got comfortable in his room, back against the headboard of his bed. He walked in a minute later, handing over the bowl of popcorn as he settled in.

“Is Dean coming?” she asked.

“No. He went out for the night.”

“Ah,” she said softly after a beat.

Sam straightened up, looking at her.

“He didn’t invite you?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“He always does. Why not now?”

She sighed, settling into the cushions, still looking ahead.

“I think I freaked him out. We were in my room the other night, and I asked him to dance with me. He did, but then… I don’t know,” she shrugged. “After a couple songs he left fast and he’s definitely been pulling away from me since then.”

“Hey,” he called, grabbing her attention. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you isn’t worth your time. You know that, right?”

“Thanks, Sammy,” she smiled, looking down again. “I just keep getting in my own head.”

“When aren’t you?” he joked.

“You jerk,” she said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “I’m trying to be, like, open right now.”

“I know,” he drawled, leaning his head against hers.

She brushed a few pieces of his hair off her forehead.

“Maybe I just need to go out and have some fun myself,” she said after a moment.

He perked up.

“Dude, yeah!”

He stood abruptly, holding out his hands for her. She took them, standing slowly, and looking around the room for some stray confidence so that she wouldn’t back out.

“Tell you what,” Sam started, giving her the hope she wanted, “You go get ready, and we’ll head out together. I’ll be your wingman.”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I immediately wasn’t sure about heading off by myself.”

“I could tell,” he laughed.

She got ready in record time, putting on her favorite dress for good measure. They left the bunker, hitting a nearby bar that didn’t have an impala parked anywhere close.

“They’re just… giving me nothing,” she said with a sigh, slumping in the seat next to Sam at the bar.

“What do you mean? That last guy looked really into it.”

“He was. He was also into talking about his ex-girlfriend within the first few minutes of conversation,” she snorted. “I think I’m asking too much. I should just find someone and make out with ‘em.”

“You sure about that?”

She looked at Sam again, a smile breaking out.

“No. But if we do another shot, I might be.”

He sighed, obliging her only because he knew she’d do it without him anyways. They threw back the shots, and he wished her luck as she went off in search of someone who wanted nothing but a good time.

Well, kind of a good time. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to take some dude home.

She went onto the dance-floor, deciding she’d let someone come to her rather than prowling for herself, and got her wish pretty fast. A moderately attractive man caught her hand as she swayed around by herself, asking for a dance. She plastered on a smile as she agreed, letting him take the lead.

“What’s your name?” he asked over the music.

“Do you really want to know?” she teased.

He smirked. “Guess it’s more fun not to know, huh?”

She smiled again, pulling him down to her lips as they moved to the music. She closed her eyes, appreciating the ease at which she got what she wanted. The only problem is that she couldn’t help imagining it was Dean instead of Unnamed Bar-Goer.

Regardless, she justified that they were merely using each other, so who cares if she let her mind run a little wild?

She only backed away when he started getting a little handsy for her tastes. She thanked him for his time, walking away and back to Sam. He raised his brows when she came back.

“Hey, looks like you got it,” he said, watching her sit. “Also looks like you aren’t too happy.”

“Still giving me absolutely nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Not a damn thing.”

He chuckled. “Maybe this plan didn’t work out so well.”

“Still got to drink with my favorite giant,” she noted with a wink and nudge.

“Ha ha. Real flattering, thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, but let himself smirk when she wasn’t paying much attention. They sat talking at the bar for another hour or so before Sam decided to call it a night. She linked an arm around Sam’s as they walked out of the bar, definitely a little more drunk than she intended to get.

Dean walked into the bunker, spirits effectively dampened. His attempt to get his mind off of his I-almost-kissed-her moment didn’t work in the slightest, and now he was in a sour mood as a result.

His mood only worsened when he saw Sam and Y/N stumbling into the kitchen, the latter a drunken mess in an outfit he liked a little too much. He watched as Sam helped her into the room, practically propping her up against the counter.

“What the hell?” Dean asked as his brother got a glass from the cupboard.

“What?” Sam defended, filling up the cup with water.

“For one, why is she laughing at herself against the kitchen counter?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We went out.”

He walked over to Y/N, handing her the glass. She sipped at the water, then set it down just as quickly.

“Done,” she cheered.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, picking up the water and giving it right back to her. “Come on, you’re going to be hungover tomorrow.”

She refused the drink, kicking off her shoes. Then, she turned to level her gaze at Dean as he sipped on a beer.

“And where did you go run off to?”

He raised his brows. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” she stated with finality.

“Out.”

“Get lucky?” she asked, more bitterness in her tone than she meant to let out.

“No.”

She rolled her eyes, then glanced at Sam again.

“Wanna go hang out and read? I found a book about how werewolves get it on,” she said, giggling as she ended the sentence.

“What?”

Dean spoke up again. “Since when do you go out and get drunk without a reason?”

She snapped back to him. “Since I was celebrating me. I’m done chasing after guys who don’t want— What was it, Sam? Like if they don’t appreciate me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked back, setting down his drink.

“Sammy, I wanna talk to Dean by myself,” she managed to say, hardly looking at him.

“I don’t know—”

“Sam,” she cut him off, watching him.

He put his hands up in defense, walking out of the room. She watched until he left, then looked at Dean again. He glanced sideways at her as she swayed slightly while she stood.

“You know, those six years are coming up real soon, De,” she said, staring from across the counter.

“Are they?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“Mhm. One more week I think,” she hiccuped. “Sorry.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re drunk.”

“I tried kissing someone today,” she said, words tumbling out fast like she couldn’t control them. “I hated it.”

He paused, unsure why she was saying this. His heart hurt more than he thought it would, hearing her admit that.

“Why?” was all he could manage.

“Why’d you go out without me?” she countered. “You never go out without me, not since we met.”

He sighed, eyes closing as he braced himself against the counter. He heard her as she got closer, eventually leaning her head against his arm.

“I’m glad you didn’t go home with anyone today.”

He swallowed, unable to look at her. “Yeah. I— I was gonna try, to be honest, but…”

“I’m gonna throw up,” she said, suddenly moving to the sink.

He followed after swiftly, helping her as best as he could. He pulled her hair back gently as she emptied her stomach into the kitchen sink.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he said softly, rubbing her back with the hand that wasn’t holding her hair. “Get it all out.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sniffling.

“I’ve seen you worse,” he said with a smirk. “That upset about what I said?”

If she had been a touch more sober, she might have realized he was joking. Unfortunately, she took it completely literally.

“I didn’t mean to. I just thought about you and some—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on, I wasn’t—” he paused as she stood again, running the sink to clear it out. He turned it off again, impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“What?”

He watched her as she straightened herself out, pulling down the skirt of the dress she was in where it had ridden up.

“You threw up over me mentioning—”

“Dean.”

“Why?”

She sighed, leaning down to rest her head on the counter.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You kissed someone. I didn’t even get that far.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, standing again, and nearly falling over.

He caught her gently, but kept his hard tone as he responded to her.

“Why do you?”

“Because I just do, Dean.”

“You’re so freaking stubborn,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You’re one to talk. This is all your fault anyways.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, annoyance in his voice.

“It��s your fault,” she said, punctuating the phrase with a slap to his chest.

“Yeah? And how’s that?”

“You should’ve just kissed me instead of chickening out and running away like a little boy.”

He was stunned into silence, his anger dissipating and then quickly returning.

“If you hadn’t made me dance with you, I wouldn’t have been all in your face in the first place,” he shot back.

“You’re such a dick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Six years of not chasing anyone but you, and for what? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“Well, jokes on you, sweetheart,” he exclaimed, opening up his arms. “Hasn’t even been six years.”

“Great! Let’s hope we never get there, then!”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not the one who ran off to get a hookup because I couldn’t handle my feelings.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you just ran off to make out with someone because you couldn’t handle your feelings.”

“Why do you feel the need to make everything so difficult?”

“Because you’re the most difficult person I’ve ever met,” he said, voice raising to an octave you didn’t often hear. “How else am I supposed to deal with you?”

She groaned in frustration, pushing past him to leave. She stalked out of the kitchen, only making it so far as the hallway before she was getting pulled back.

“Stop it, Dean,” she all but yelled.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. One hand found her face, a surprisingly gentle touch in comparison to how intense the kiss was. She felt like she couldn’t catch her breath, a smile on her face as he finally gave in. He pulled back a moment later, though not without an internal struggle.

“The douchebag at the bar kiss you like that?” he mumbled against her lips.

“Not exactly,” she sighed. “What took you so long?”

“You weren’t making moves either, loser,” he said with a laugh.

“You didn’t exactly make yourself out to be available, De.”

“And you did? You literally told me I wouldn’t get you in my wildest dreams a few weeks ago.”

She paused, a smile spreading to her face.

“Touché.”

“How about now?”

She quirked a brow. “You propositioning me, Winchester?”

“If I was, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say that I think there must be some technical malfunctions in the universe for me to get that lucky.”

He smirked, slowly backing her until she was pressed against the wall.

“Early celebration?”

“Only if we still celebrate when we hit twenty one ninety,” she said with a smile. “Gotta safeguard, here. Easier for me to make sure this doesn’t become a one-time thing.”

“You think I’d be able to stop after one time? It’s you,” he said, moving in closer. Her arms wound around his neck. “I’ve been holding out for six years.”

“Not quite.”

“Mm. Close enough.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, this time slow and soft. She kissed back, glad to finally know what his lips felt like against hers. He let his hands wander, holding to her hips and sliding down further.

“You look real pretty in this dress,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Was hoping you’d see it and like it,” she smiled, nipping at his lip. “Just don’t rip it if you decide to take it off me.”

He smiled against her as he leaned back in. He kissed her, deepening it immediately as one hand dragged down her leg. He slotted his own thigh between her legs, adding a little friction that had her gasping into his mouth. He started hiking up the skirt of the dress further. Slowly, purposely teasing her with it. Teasing himself just as much.

Then, heavy footsteps started coming down the hall. They separated quickly and ducked inside the kitchen, hoping Sam would walk past. Unfortunately, they were wrong.

Dean stood behind Y/N quickly, concealing a problem he didn’t exactly have time to fix.

“Hey,” Sam said softly, seemingly not noticing a thing. “I didn’t hear yelling coming down and needed a drink. You two all good?”

She nodded. “Great.”

“Awesome,” Dean said at the same time.

Sam nodded, giving a tight smile as he walked past.

“We were actually about to head to bed, so…” she said, looking at him as he stood at the fridge.

“Okay,” he nodded, nonchalant. “Night.”

“Night.”

Dean waved a quick goodbye, following after her quickly. They broke into his room, giggling like a couple of drunk toddlers.

“He didn’t hear yelling,” Dean said, closing in on her once the door was shut.

She reached for his belt, quickly undoing it as they got closer to the bed.

“He didn’t.”

He grabbed her by the waist, tossing her down on the mattress, slowly climbing on top of her.

“Wanna test and see if the walls in here are just as soundproof?”

She looked up at him as he finally tugged her dress up around her hips.

“I love a good experiment.”

She laid back in the early morning hours, not even bringing herself to be annoyed that she was being suffocated by a large man on top of her. Mostly because if Dean killed her that way, it certainly would suck, but what a way to go.

She sighed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead as he rested against her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually woke up with the sweetest sleepy smile point at her.

“Hey,” he said, adjusting himself to see her better.

“Hey,” she greeted, accepting a soft kiss. “I think we should’ve done that forever ago.”

“I don’t know. Might be like a wine situation. We let it sit so long that it got even better by the time we actually got some.”

“Very poetic.”

He smiled, a hand coming to rest on her side as he kissed her again. It was slow and lazy and altogether too sweet. She was almost embarrassed that she had to be there to witness how mushy that moment was, if not for the fact that she was on the receiving end of the mush. She pulled away from him first, leaving him to whine.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said in a whisper. “Whining?”

“You were doing plenty of that last night,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Why don’t we get some breakfast. I’m starving.”

His hand started moving downward, inching up the shirt of his that she was wearing.

“I could eat.”

“Dean,” she warned.

He started scooting down the mattress slowly, not giving up.

“Come on. Kitchen.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Cut it out,” she laughed. “Kitchen for actual breakfast. I don’t waste time when it comes to breakfast.”

They made it to the kitchen for that breakfast successfully! Twenty minutes later, anyway.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, not looking up.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said, going straight towards the cabinets for cereal.

She realized suddenly that there may have been something she forgot in his room.

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Sam asked.

She looked down, realizing that it was clothes she had forgotten. Sam paused, raising a hand.

“On second thought, I don’t want to know. Glad to know you’re at least not fighting. Just— Maybe some pants next time.”

She laughed, following Dean to the table as he set down two bowls of cereal. They all sat eating in a comfortable silence. Then a slightly less comfortable silence as Dean grabbed her thigh halfway through breakfast. Sam quickly excused himself after that, a knowing smile on his face as he left.

“So… We’re in the kitchen,” Dean said, leaning towards her. “I don’t think Sammy’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

After definitely not doing anything weird in the kitchen and then totally not feeling bad and scrubbing down the entire room for the day, things fell into a new rhythm. It was comfortable and surprisingly less of an adjustment than they were expecting. All of those years of relentless flirting must’ve made for an easy transition.

Dean cleared his throat a few days later, grabbing her attention as she lounged in the room he’d set aside for TV-watching (with the fun new addition of a couch).

“Yeah?” she asked, looking away from the screen to see him.

“Guess what?”

“Hm?”

“2190 days.”

She smiled. “Yeah? Is that today?”

He hummed, giving a nod.

“What were those special plans of yours?”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

She merely nodded. He paused the show they were watching.

“I, uh— I was gonna tell you how I felt if I didn’t chicken out.”

“You’re kidding,” she replied after a beat.

“I’m not,” he said with a chuckle.

“Man. Almost twenty two hundred days of a blackout before we finally lit it up, huh?”

He laughed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She paused, turning to put her feet in his lap. He immediately, started rubbing her leg, enjoying the uninhibited ability to touch her.

“Wanna know something funny?”

He raised a brow in question.

“Years ago someone told me they knew we’d end up together.”

“Who? Bobby?”

She shook her head. “Garth.”

He rolled his eyes as she laughed, poking him in the arm a moment later.

“Got to give it to him, he’s always been perceptive,” she noted.

“Guess so,” he nodded, reluctant to admit it. “Freakin’ Garth.”

She watched him a moment, then retracted her legs. He looked at her, almost hurt with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Don’t worry, I’m comin’ closer.”

She crawled over to him, settling in his lap. He ran his hands up her legs, a small smile returning to his lips.

“I can think of a few other ways we can celebrate today, you know?”

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning into the cushions.

“Five words: apple pie in the freezer.”

“Oh, baby, you know how to talk dirty to me,” he groaned, pulling her down for a kiss in a fit of laughter.

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