#this was such a sweet quiet little moment but god forbid we have ANYTHING

[meidui]

DELETED SCENE from AVENGERS (2012)

#steve rogers #steverogersedit #marveledit #marvelgifs #mcuedit #dailyteamcap #capedit #dailymarvelgifs #mcufam #marveladdicts #* #i wonder if that kid knew who steve was or if he just thought it was a man in a weird blue suit who randomly saved them hahahah #i also wonder what he thought of the fact that captain america saved his family and that he handed him his shield back #this was such a sweet quiet little moment but god forbid we have ANYTHING #i really like the scenes where they're saving individual people and families 🥺 #edit* #gif*

[ellecdc]

We need dating remus lupin general headcanons with YOUR wonderful writing. Please. 🫶🏻

I don't know if this is my best work - but hopefully this is what you were looking for. Thanks for being here with me <3

Dating Remus Lupin Headcanons

This man was completely oblivious to the draw he had on other people – including you. His quiet, sarcastic, mischievous but kind persona meant he had a lot of admirers that he never did anything about 

I fully believe Remus Lupin was the biggest flirt without necessarily realizing it (or if he did realize it, it wasn’t a conscious action - he really didn’t mean to be flirty, he just was)

Also don’t believe he knew how fuckin’ hot he was: denim jackets, oversized cardigans and knitted jumpers, converse, beanies - like he always looked so comfortable and casual but so put together despite of it?

Stealing his clothes is actually a dream of mine – his denim jacket with patches sewed on and a hole or two????? Need it

Curling up in one of his sweaters and warm socks by the fire? Fuckin’ hell 

His friends knew better than to ever try to (outwardly) set him up with anyone since he was so damn stubborn, so they would just happen to be in the library at the same time as you [the person they’d seen him bantering with in class time and time again] and also just happen to say hey and decide to catch up with you and then also just happen to sit at your table since they were already standing here talking to you anyway.

Forced library dates that neither of you really realized were dates, courtesy of his friends 

Remus caught on after a little while what his friends were trying to do, but didn’t mention anything in case you hadn’t realized yourself; he wouldn’t want to embarrass you

And welcome to the one thing we all sort of hate about Remus Lupin: he of course believed nothing would/could/should ever come about between the two of you

I believe him to be somewhat flighty – the second he realizes he’s falling for you, or, God forbid, realizes you’re falling for him – he hightails it 

Not for long though, I really don’t see James Potter letting him get away with that (Remus is stubborn so he gets ‘his way’ for at least a little before James forces the two of your out of your mutual misery)

I think you guys would grow closer and closer without ever actually saying anything about it:

Sitting beside each other would turn into leaning against one another

Leaning against one another would become the odd cuddle session 

Walking together to class would turn into a gentle hand on the small of your back guiding you through the castle (but also to keep you close) [this is that mentioned unknowingly flirty side] 

Hand on the small of your back would turn into his arm around your shoulder or your hand in his 

And he would prefer it this way, afraid that saying anything would make it too real (flighty), or, that you would deny having feelings for him and that would hurt in an entirely different way

You tried to be okay with it – to pretend that you were satisfied with whatever Remus was willing to give you because, come on, he was one of the most popular boys in school, he was the most well-liked Marauder, he was super smart and a powerful wizard, and he was so sweet to you.

But after a while, you couldn’t deny how much this unspoken space between you was weighing on you – particularly the somewhat routine periods where he’d completely shut you out

Was it you? Had you done something? 

Was he seeing someone else?

Were you just imaging this whole ‘thing’ between you?

He’d get increasingly agitated – almost like he simultaneously wanted you closer to him and further away from him; you’d never know how to help him in these moments

He’d speak more sharply to you, spoke less in general, and downplayed your friendship/relationship when other people would comment on it 

“We’re not even that close, we just study together sometimes” you head him say to Marlene McKinnon

“It’s not like that” he told Benjy Fenwick when he asked if you two were dating 

“She’s just a friend.” He’d said to Sirius, and that one hurt because why would he lie to his best friend? And what about you made it so difficult to see you as more than a friend?

Maybe you really had completely imagined the whole thing in your mind? Maybe he really didn’t care for you at all.

You began to pull away – less study dates, more excuses as to why you couldn’t meet up after class, sitting with Lily or Mary at quidditch games instead, staying at Hogwarts on Hogsmeade weekends – anything to avoid having to face the friend that you quickly realized you were halfway in love with who never even gave you a second thought

He did give you a second thought, though – in fact, he gave you a first thought as well as a third, fourth, fifth and sixth

“Do you think I did something to offend Y/N?” He asked James and Sirius one day – the two exchanged a knowing look 

“Why do you ask?” James asked with a smirk

“I think she might be avoiding me.”

“Does that bother you, Moons?”

Remus scoffed “of course it bothers me”

“I thought she was just a friend?” Sirius taunted

“Sod off...”

Remus couldn’t ignore it anymore – you weren’t just a friend. Never could be in his mind, he doubts. He would be your friend for the rest of your life if that’s all you ever wanted from him – but he’d probably always hold a candle for you; that’s why this divot you seemed to be carving between you two hurt like hell

He decides to do something very un-Remus like and face this head on (thoughts and prayers)

“Hey Y/N” he said gently as he approached your table in the library 

You seemed surprised at seeing him and started packing your things up

“Oh, hi Remus...” and the lack of your usual ‘hey Rem’ furthered his suspicions. “I was just finishing up, actually.”

“Have I done something to upset you?” He blurted suddenly. His assertiveness threw you off kilter – was he...talking? About feelings? You paused in your haste to pack your things

“No?” you said in the form of a question – you knew he picked up on it when the space between his eyebrows dwindled 

“Are you sure? I just feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

You were starting to get frustrated. “What do you want, Remus?” You asked sharply. He winced.

“I just miss you, is all.” He admitted quietly as he played with a fray on his sweater between his tantalizingly long fingers.

“What exactly about me do you miss, Remus? You have plenty of friends; I hardly see how Sirius, James or Peter can’t fill the same role.”

He guffaws – actually guffawed! The bastard. “What are you on about?”

“What are you on about, Lupin? I’m tired; I’m tired of being called a friend while you keep me closer. I’m tired of feeling like I’m being played by arguably the most important person in my life. I’m fucking exhausted – so tell me exactly what you’re ‘on about’ Remus, and make it count because I’m done.”

“No! No, not done; don’t be done.”

“What do you want, Remus.” You whispered dismally. 

“You.” He whispered back

“Don’t fuck with me, Lupin.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at you a little bit. “I’m not. I’m not, I swear it – I’m sorry if you’ve felt played by me. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel anything but loved because... because I do – I love you.”

“Love me?”

“Love you. So much.” He professed as he dared to step closer to you. When you didn’t seem entirely averse to his proximity, he moved to close the gap – enveloping you in a long-needed hug. “I’m sorry.” He apologized again.

“You should be” you murmured petulantly from his chest.

He chuckled and pressed his lips to the top of your head “let me make it up to you?”

And he did – you spent that evening on the astronomy tower, enjoying the view of the stars as they melted into the forbidden forest along the horizon and the rest of the Hogwarts grounds – and he told you his secret, that he was a werewolf

You were the first person he willingly told – James, Sirius, and Peter just figured it out on their own and there was no hiding from them

You were the first person he chose to let in – so uncharacteristic of the lycanthrope, but that just went to show how serious he was about making it up to you and garnering your trust

This changed everything 

There was no more pushing you away near full moons, in fact – he got nearly downright territorial 

No one else was allowed to sit beside you – that was Remus’ spot

He was irritable and snappy with everyone, but instinctively melted at the sight of you

“I can’t believe we survived Moony all these years without Y/N – she’s like a sedative” Peter muttered as he picked up the cards Remus had thrown at him in a fit during their game of exploding snap. There was no sign of that Moony now – smiling down at you as you sat curled up in his lap like he had nowhere else he’d rather be

I believe Remus was the king of trinkets – his dorm was littered with little bits and bobs he found that he thought were cool/interesting

He started gifting you little things once you began dating 

An enamel pin that made him think of you 

A small pewter wolf 

A cool rock that he thought looked like the colour of your eyes (you didn’t see it, but who were you to argue?) 

Little themed snow globes

Flowers he found on his walks 

Pretty beads/crystals 

Tealight candle holders 

The ribbon from a box of chocolates he got from his mum that he thought you would like

Acts. Of. Service. This man didn’t come from money, the way he saw his dad spoiling his mum was through his actions – so this caring attitude came super naturally to him 

Fixing up your tea/coffee the way you like before you’ve even thought about it 

Carrying your bags/books for you 

“Your shoe’s untied, dovey. Give ‘er here.” He said as he patted his thigh for you to place your foot so he could tie it for you

If you got sick/under the weather, he’d totally do your homework for you (his friends have done the same for him due to the moons – pay it forward)

I think he’d be so soft and needy after a moon – just melt into whatever love and care you’re willing to show him; give you complete control and take care of him.

It may have been super hard to get Remus to give love a chance – but once you got it, you were stuck with him because he was not going anywhere 

Loyal to a fault 

He’s so afraid of losing good things that he’s willing (and desperate) to do anything and everything he can to keep it [i.e., you]

Thankfully, you make it very easy to do <3 

#marauders era #marauders fanfiction #ask elle #self insert #reader insert #remus lupin #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #dating Remus Lupin headcanons #dating remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #marauders #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #ellecdc fics

[mikrotyalm13]

How would your ocs react to a partner whos very vocal and loud in bed, like every moment they can't go without spouting some type of praise. . . ask, totally not based on a chat im having - 🐠🎩

mmmhehehhe... < З I LIKE THIS QUESTION DEAR FISH ANON. okaaaayyy lessgooo.... also feel free to send me more questions like this one, it was fun to write for everyone <3 deity, naga, monster under the bed, kikimora, fallen god, mothman x reader. derzena x fem!reader, the rest is gender-neutral. there could be mistakes and im npt s orrty

gavriil. — the louder you are the better, honestly. gavriil here is a provider, he cares about your pleasure more than his own, so there's nothing more rewarding than to hear your voice break so deliciously. sex with him is a praising galore... loves receiving it too! he's very talkative and mostly breathes heavily or hums in amusement/delight. if you don't want to make noise on principle, that's a whole different story. will take it as a challenge. will fuck the noises out of you. breaking your indifferent facade until you're nothing but a drooling, whining mess always makes him so smug and proud.

xiaolong. — prefers it if you're at least somewhat vocal because he want to hear how good he makes you feel, so you being so unashamed is perfect for him. loves cutting off your never-ending stream of sweet words and whimpers by kissing you. will remind you to keep it down sometimes though, because "you don't want the whole inn to hear your pretty moans now, do you? they're reserved for my ears only, isn't that right, dear? mmhm, that's it". can't get enough of how lovely your voice sounds when you call out his name. will probably tease you about that later...

taisya\tasechka. — when he's balls deep inside of you, he would absolutely not care. he won't even hear you probably, driven blindly by his instincts and desires. that's why when you want him to stop or give you a second for whatever reason, you need to show it with your body language. give him a pat, a punch (he won't mind), a squeeze. he pays much more attention to how your body moves and shudders underneath him, how your breathing patterns change. values your physical participation more than anything else. this guy is also pretty loud himself, though his noises are not very... pleasant on the ears and sometimes his voice morphs in funny ways, giving that uncanny edge to his low whines and growls.

derzena. — she will be... a bit surprised. she didn't have many lovers, and most of them were pretty quiet and/or shy in her presence (no wonder, bc she has a very... intimidating stare). at first she will think she did something wrong, or, heavens forbid, hurt you. derzena is a very careful woman, mainly because she's very aware of her sizes and strength. but once you reassure her and tell her that you're just very vocal in bed, she'll except it and will move on. she'll learn to love it very quickly, silently relishing in your gasps and loud pleas. she might lose herself for a good while between your legs, eating you out for hours and pushing her thick, smooth tongue deeper into your pussy to see if she can make you even louder.

veniamin. — oh he is so mean. likes it when you're loud just because he gets to shut you up. a hand clasped tightly over your mouth or pushing your face into the pillow, he doesn't care as long as you're keeping up the volume and writhing under him. when he's feeling gracious enough he'll let you ride him and babble all you want. until then, he'll keep calling you a desperate little thing, mocking the noises you make <З despite that, he also loves it when you talk back or insult him in return. it's the "missionary, so we can keep arguing" for him. smug fucker wants nothing more than to rile you up and then make you whine in disappointment by ruining your orgasm... for the fourth time in a row.

livy. — he hasn't had much experience with humans before, so he thinks it's perfectly normal for you to express yourself the way that you do. livy thinks it's very pretty actually, and won't stop you, because no one will hear you in the middle of the forest, where his cave resides. except for him, of course <з lets out happy chirps and clicks in return, or hisses sweetly when your little hole squeezes him so tightly. will ask how you feel very frequently, seeking your approval. might get too excited and get a bit rough, fucking you into the ground, trying to stuff you full of his cock despite you being so much smaller in comparison to him.

#microtya's kids #god x human #kikimora x human #monster under the bed x human #mothman x human #naga x human #monster x reader #monster x human #monster smut #monsterfucker #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend #monster lover #teratophillia #terato

[golddaggers]

midnight rendezvous

pairing: louis tomlinson x f!reader

warnings: filthy smut with hints of fluffness. period sex. petnames. him calling you baby doll. defo nsfw +18, so my dudes, read carefully.

a/n: it's your renegade writer back with her fantasies. i've written this a while back and though it'd be such a shame to share. if you do like it, make sure to reblog and like. thanks and enjoy *wink* leth x

word count: 3k+

xx

It’s just a bit past midnight when I park home, no one wandering the streets, or children playing about, there’s just the chilled breeze fumbling with the leaves. I don’t notice a second car on the driveway until I’m up close, I blame the dim yellow streetlights and my exhaustion. It had been a particularly busy shift at the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to sleep for about two days straight.

The cold crisp air makes me tremble for a split second, but I am soon welcomed by the warmth of the inside. I kicked off my sneakers, trying to be as silent as possible, I didn’t want to wake him up. A second car meant Louis had come home and he must be tired, it had been weeks since he had a break, we hadn’t seen each other for even longer. The weekends he happened to be around, I couldn’t work my schedule to spend them at home with him. It sucked, and I missed him more than I could put it into words.

A frustrated sigh slips while I walk to the kitchen, filling up a glass of water. After so many years, I should be used to it: the busy schedule, the months spent apart. I’m not, though. And being honest, I don’t think it’s possible to not be in pain when waking up to an empty bed beside me, to not hear the soft humming when he’s doing the dishes, to not miss the press of his lips on mine. I just wanted us to buy a bunch of lands somewhere, live a quiet, happy life, have children, and grow old. Just the two of us.

This was something I would never tell him. Robbing him of his passions wasn’t on my mind. I knew he’d oblige if I did say so. If I asked him, but I couldn't.

I leave a half-drunk glass behind, and go upstairs, taking off my plain white shirt then unbuttoning my jeans. Before I got to the bedroom, however, I froze, strangled sounds coming from there startling me for a second. It's followed by a smile creeping in, I’m very much aware, and familiar, with them.

The door isn’t closed, so I peek in. I see him naked, sheets pooled by his feet, and one hand wrapped around himself, moving up and down with ease, his thumb applying just enough pressure. I feel my mouth watering at the sight, a cramp twisting my belly. Desire gathers quickly, I was so touch-starved that I might as well come undone just by watching him get himself off.

His eyes are closed, thin lips parted. I slide off my pants, throwing both them, and my shirt away, walking inside in just my black lingerie. Even that was starting to be uncomfortable.

“Lou?” I call him, standing with crossed arms. He’s quick to drop everything, shooting me a wide, surprised glare. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spoil your good time.”

I’m half-joking at this point.

“I thought you’d only be home in t’ mornin’,” Deep blue eyes, sparked with lust, stare up at me. I'm very aware of how much I want to be near him again. “C’mere.”

He pats the space on his right side, it’s mesmerizing how quickly he can go from a sex god to a warm loving man. I go, but I don’t stay beside him, instead, I take my seat on his lap, which makes him laugh, rough hands on my waist, squeezing the flesh. I shift, uncomfortable, feeling him beneath me. So hard, so ready. It’s been so long I might just assume I'm a virgin all over again, shamefully responsive to anything he might do to me.

Louis leans in, planting a kiss just between the curve of my breasts. The prickle of his bead makes my pulse rise. It’s the intimacy that gets me hooked. He feels like coming home. A warmth that springs from the tip of my toes to my head, flushes my cheeks, and makes my forehead sweaty.

A “missed ya” whispered on my skin makes me shake, he then kisses the soft spot where the shoulder meets the neck, I let out a groan, moving, seeking friction. His smirk is taunting, both hands going up to my cheeks, four eyes meeting in the middle of a tired night.

“What now?” I say, unsure, panting as his thumb toys with my lips, pushing inside for a moment.

“Do you want a shower first?” He asks, staring at me, a boyish smile on his face.

“I should. I’m disgusting.”

“Nonsense,” The tip of his nose is pressed to my cheek, a ghostly kiss left behind on my jaw. “You look amazing anyway. Why d'ya think I’m so worked up?”

“Were you thinking of me? Getting yourself off imagining my hands around you? My spit and my lips, hmm?”

Louis pants when I grind down on him, slick with the throb of him against me. The fabric of my panties still forbids me from knowing his skin on mine, from sinking and swallowing him whole.

“Yeah, I was. Always think abou' ya', love.”

“I think about you too,” The friction makes me lean forward, sighing against his warm neck. “Nights get so lonely… I miss you so much, you know.”

“Darling…”

“Mmhm, I have to touch myself, grab my boobs,” I place his hands on them, and he squeezes, promptly. Fills his hands. It’s swollen, sore even. I’m burning up.

“Do you say my name when you come?” Louis asks, quietly, sucking a patch of skin. I’ve got goosebumps, I’m reeling from the build-up.

“I do. Over and over and over,” The room feels warmer if that's possible. Sweat drips down my back. I’m aware as to why I’m so sensitive, besides the yearning when it’s been months since he last touched me, my period heightens things up.

For a moment there, I almost forgot it.

“Can I just fuck you now, doll?” It’s a hoarse whisper, I clench in frustration. I’m hot, nearly suffocating. “Want t’ feel yeh so bad.”

His accent thickens, I’m lost, too into the moment to think coherently. I go for his lips, kissing him with passion, biting down on his bottom lip, still moving my hips, rolling against his. He pushes back, groaning into my mouth. It’s sinful. Everything about him is.

“Can’t, sweets,” It slips out, breathlessly. “‘M bloody down there.”

He smiles, soothing, hands firm on my hips. My stomach somersaults, it’s amazing how Louis manages to make me feel 17 every time he gives me that gorgeous smile of his. I feel like one of his groupies.

“Never cared ‘bout that before. C’mon, help me out.”

“Lou…” A strangled noise followed. I’m reaching a point where pleasure mixes with pain, I’m too aroused, too sensitive. He touches me there, trained fingers light to not hurt me but enough to stir me on. “You’re trying to bribe me, aren’t you?”

“Am I getting there?” The double entendre makes me chuckle, nodding. “Good. Let me take those off, hmm?”

“Come,” I untangle myself from him, the cold, empty feeling brings a pang to my lower belly. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it in the shower.”

I slide off my panties, tossing them at him. Louis laughs wholeheartedly, balling it in his hand while kicking the sheets away to follow me into our bathroom.

It’s bright, with mirrors everywhere. My hair looks an absolute mess, strands falling down my shoulders, I’ve got flushed cheeks, and glistening skin, perspiration all over. Five minutes with him just does that to you. He looks impressive from behind me, his brown hair was thrown back, wide blue eyes staring right at me from the reflection. I can see the extension of his tattoos, the tanned skin from being under the sun a little too long last weekend.

Louis is a sight for sore eyes.

We exchange a look then smile. The kind of intimacy that only comes when you love someone, beyond passion, beyond attraction.

He undoes the clasp of my bra. I sigh in relief, gasping when his hands cup my boobs, pinching my oversensitive nipples. I can’t help but toss my head back, resting it on his shoulder. He’s good at this, playing with me, edging me out.

“Missed them even more,” Louis expresses, a half-smile on his face. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“You know you’re probably the only man on earth that can get away with saying stuff like that, right?” We share a laugh. “Turn the water on, sweets, yeah? I need to take the tampon off.”

While he busies himself with getting things ready, I put my leg up on the toilet and gently pull it out, being careful not to spill any blood on the floor. I’m mentally grateful it’s not an extra heavy day. I wrap it up in toilet paper and toss it in the bin.

“Water is warm, baby,” Steam starts to fog up the room. “Come.”

“I hope I will.” I wink at him. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so cheeky.

“Don’t tease me,” Lust soaks up his voice, eyes stern. He’d punish me for sure. When I wasn’t expecting him to do so. When we weren’t so desperate for each other. Whenever he’s back home, there’s no games, just tension relief.

He goes in, standing beneath the shower rain, his back facing me. I look at his ass, all perky and round. It’s no secret that I got a thing for it, and I might’ve bitten it a few… hundred times. Whenever I get the chance, really. I grab them, squeezing the muscle, a hoarse laugh falling from his lips. Louis thinks it’s silly, doesn’t see how it’s so great.

We kiss, then. In a brief moment, he spins and pulls me in, tongue rolling ‘round with mine. It’s wet, crude even. I make sounds that would mistake me for a pornstar, groaning when his tip brushes where I’m aching with need. He pulls my hair back, exposing my neck to him, sucking and biting. Leaving behind bruises I’ll have trouble covering. The adrenaline high doesn’t let me focus on that, though.

His hand slides between us, lodging between my legs, his palm pressing my pulsating clit. I call out for him, squeezing his shoulders, whimpering. Just this faint touch sends me into overdrive. It’s borderline ridiculous. How good he is. Or how much I want him. How I crave for him like a junkie craves a fix. It’s the trip of a lifetime when he’s inside me.

I go for his dick, so painfully hard it could cut right through me. There’s something about watching his eyes snap close, or how he moans, but I wobble, my breathing going fitful. He says my name, pressing his soft lips to my forehead, still rubbing me out. My hand seems smaller when it’s wrapped around the width of him. Louis feels heavy and scorching hot.

“I want to do something,” I whisper, high on the pleasure he was giving me. “Would you let me?”

“I want to fuck you, darling,” It’s raw, doesn’t sound dirty, more like a pleading question. “Please let me, hmm? I want to fill you up. Watch it drip down out of you. My pretty baby with cum all over her legs.”

A pained whimper comes out.

The tip of his fingers are stained red, they never really slipped inside me, just circling, creating a build-up that leaves me in discomfort. It’s unusual how much time we are taking with this, at this point, we would’ve fucked about three times already. Either way, I like it. The glint in his eyes, eyes that I adore. Diamond beauties staring down at me, so full of desire. It’s powerful. To know you have such an effect on a man like him.

I place him in the tight space between my thighs, both of us groaning with the stronger contact. I’m dripping and it’s not just blood, he’s thrumming, hips sloppily jerking forward. I feel him almost in me, but not quite. I scream, I’m sure our neighbours would make complaints. I don’t find it in me to care. It's way too heavenly.

Tattooed hands land on each of my love handles, our bodies are almost one at this point. That’s when he lifts my leg, we both can’t do any more foreplay, no more waiting. I help him inside, a little bit of blood gushing before he’s deep within. It takes a while for me to get used to him again, two months can be enough for things to shrink back up.

“God, your cunt is so fucking tight,” He mumbles, out-of-worldly. “You’re gonna make me come and I barely even started.”

“And you’re so fucking big, gonna split me open,” I shoot back, gripping tight on his forearm, trying to balance myself as he starts to pound, slowly at first. “Fuck, baby. This is so good.”

“Tell me who can make you feel so good, baby doll,” A particular hard snap of his hips makes me sway on my step, but his iron grip steadies me. “Use your words. I want to know.”

“You!” It’s a desperate squeal, I feel full, he stretches me to a burning point. Pain mixing with pleasure. It doesn’t take a scientist to tell me I’ll have trouble sitting down tomorrow. “You, baby.”

Louis lifts my other leg, both on the crook of his arms, and presses me against the tiled wall of our bathroom. His teeth clamp around my nipple, biting, sucking. I feel dizzy with the torrential rain of emotions. The water keeps falling on us, warm. It splashes when he thrusts.

None of us is lasting longer. I wasn’t particularly known to do so, not when he was the one handling me anyway. Some people are just skilled. Just know how to push somebody else’s buttons. And Louis knew how to push mine. He knew how to push me into the fucking edge. Coax a string of orgasms out of me if he so wanted. With his fingers, with his tongue, with his dick.

I moan, one hand tugging the hair at the nape of his neck and the other going to where our bodies met. It’s a fucking sight. Watching him go in then out of me. I start rubbing myself.

“You have to be quieter,” He says, our foreheads glued together, still slamming into me like I’m his favourite rag doll. “We don’t need people calling the police.”

“It’s your fault,” My reply is followed by a curse word. “Giving it to me so good like that.”

“Mmhm,” Dark blue looks at me, I can feel him getting sloppier. It’s close.

In urgency, he kisses me, I’m too frail, too putty in his hands. A numbness starts on the tip of my toes, it makes my eyes roll back, I can’t even voice anything anymore, entirely surrendered to him. To the vulnerability of this moment. Being his as much as he’s mine.

Time stands still whenever I’m with him. And right now, I can’t even keep track of it, too lost in him. That’s why I don’t know how long it took, it could’ve been seconds or minutes or hours. But I broke. Went up screaming. Barely registering he was telling me to shush, that it was too late in the night to be so loud. If that was what he was saying at all.

I’m shuddering, that I can tell with conviction, convulsing. That doesn’t happen often. I mean, it’s always fucking good, but like this, like I’m on something, that’s exceptional. At one point, he growls, squeezing me tighter. His hips stutter, face squashed against my chest. He spends himself inside me, as it was promised. I’m beyond satisfied, I’m in a state of bliss no one can reach me. Where the world doesn’t exist, only him.

Louis stays in for a while longer, nuzzling between my breasts, I play with his hair, a bubbly smile on my face. No high higher than this. He helps me down, I don’t trust my feet, clinging to him like a child. A chuckle falls from his lips.

“That good, huh?”

I just nod.

“I’ll help you clean up.”

With a sponge and a bit of liquid soap, Louis rubs down my body, taking his time to bubble me up. I’m still sensitive to touch, I have to pull his hand away when he tries to touch me down there, where I’m probably red and still swollen. I can feel the burn. Good burn, though.

When we both finish cleaning ourselves up, we step out of the shower. He still has a protective hand around my waistline. I wince at the thought of moving away, but I have to, I can tell I’m one second shy of making a mess on the floor.

He fetches us towels while I go deal with the bloody problem. Pun intended. I clean the dripping blood mixed with cum on my thighs, and when I look up, deep blue is fixed on me. As if entranced.

“What?”

“You just look hot.”

A little laugh slips.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad,” I groan, it’s still sore-ish when I slide the tampon in. “You really did a number on me.”

“Eh, who’s counting?”

Louis winks, helping me up, I’m still weak on the legs. There’s no need to get dressed, so we wrap ourselves under the sheets, our sopping hair making stains on the pillows.

It’s so painfully intimate.

“I love you,” I whisper, half-asleep, minutes later.

“I love you more.”

His voice is the last sound I hear before I drift to the first night of sleep where I feel full, happy, and satiated. Slept like a queen, his arms wrapped around my waist, cheek pressed to my back. I was on my little piece of heaven and no one could ever snap me out.

#louis tomlinson #louis #louis x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #1d #one direction #smut #fluff #ish #sweet!louis #period sex #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson fluff #louis smut #louis tomlinson period sex

[intercoursefluids]

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”

#werewolf au #Not sure I like it #Not my idea #If you can find the original tag so I can give credit #maribat #daminette #maridami #protective batfam #toxic!adrien

[fruitcoops]

hi! i was the one who asked if your requests were open :) so you write remus with a praise kink, and you do it in the bEst way possible!! like, it gets a big reaction every time, but it’s not demeaning in any way, and i fucking adore that. i was wondering if you could write abt how sirius found out remus liked it? like in the gag fic he says “good boy” by accident and the reaction it gets is just sooo good and i can imagine him saying it without thinking about it and remus just going 😳!! if you don’t feel like writing this, by all means don’t!!

Hello, and thank you for your kind message! I never want to display kinks/ smut dynamics as demeaning, so I’m really glad it doesn’t come off that way. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut, praise kink, and a bit of brattiness

Sirius closed his eyes as the sting on his rear end faded. “Really?”

“What?” Remus asked, quirking an eyebrow at him with a grin playing at his mouth. “You don’t like it when I do that?”

“You know I do.”

He shrugged. “Then I don’t see a problem.”

Sirius snagged him by the belt loop and reeled him in, feeling a flare in his gut at the false resistance act Remus put on. Slender hands splayed over his hips and squeezed; something devilish gleamed in Remus’ eyes. “You know you can just ask, right?”

“Ask for what?”

“Come on, Re,” he scoffed, leaning closer.

Remus’ hands slid down to his ass and rested there, just heavy enough that Sirius felt his thighs tingling. “I want to hear you say it.”

With a quiet laugh, he cradled Remus’ jaw in his palms and tilted it up, then tugged his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “If you want a good, solid railing,” he murmured, skimming his mouth over Remus’ cheek. “All you have to do is ask.”

“You want me to beg?” Remus breathed out a snicker. “That’s more up your alley, babes.”

“Depends on what direction this afternoon is going in.”

He felt Remus’ soft huff against his neck before lips brushed his earlobe. “Not a chance.”

“Fine, then.” Sirius rallied his self-control and stepped away, raising his hands in surrender before turning back to his crossword. “Just know that it’s your own stubborn fault.”

“My wh—” Remus spluttered, knocking their hips together. “Somebody’s feeling grumpy.”

Sirius propped his chin on his hand and glanced over. “And somebody else is too damn proud to admit they’re just gagging for it, eh?”

The tips of Remus’ ears turned pink, as did his neck; he wiggled his way between Sirius and his crossword, then hopped up onto the countertop and pulled him in for a knee-melting kiss as his ankles locked around Sirius’ lower back. “What’m I supposed to say?” he asked. Sirius could feel his heart hammering beneath his palm and grinned. Just how long have you been pent up?

“Baby,” he began, moving down to litter Remus’ neck and jaw with kisses. “Please take me to bed and fuck me so hard I forget my name.”

Remus paused, then dissolved into laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re horny,” Sirius countered, bumping his nose with his own. “Are you going to say it, or should I go back to my crossword until you find your words?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do I have to use those exact words?”

“I can write it down if you weren’t paying attention the first time.”

Remus rolled his eyes, then cleared his throat and suppressed another laugh. “Baby, please take me to bed.”

“And…?”

“And fuck me so hard I forget my name, you menace.”

Sirius untangled his legs and gave him room to slide back down to the floor. “That last part wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s the truth!”

“It’s mean!” he protested, tickling his ribs until he jerked out of the way with a yelp. “Now c’mere, I want to carry you to bed.”

Remus eyed his hands warily. “No way.”

“I won’t tickle you again.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, torn between exasperation and giddy affection. “Then how do you propose we get upstairs, oh wise and wonderful one?”

He regretted his words immediately. Remus’ chin tilted just so, and a sweet smile spread over his face as he rocked back on his heels, then turned and took off running up the stairs. Sirius laughed in spite of himself and sprinted after him, missing his belt by half an inch as Remus skipped the last step and swung around into the hall.

Sirius tackled him onto the mattress and latched his hands onto his sides. “You’re such a brat!”

“No,” Remus managed, kicking and flailing to no avail as Sirius pinned him down. “No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, shit—”

“What are you sorry for?”

He scrunched his face up and made a valiant effort to get his hands near Sirius’ ribcage, only to yank back when fingers found the soft place beneath his chin. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry you’re such a bastard.”

“You little shit!” Sirius redoubled his efforts until tears of mirth gathered in Remus’ eyes.

“I give,” he said at last. “I give. I’m sorry for running away, alright?”

“I don’t believe you, but okay.” Sirius settled himself on Remus’ chest, then pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “Cutie.”

“Ew. Affection.”

“I love you.”

The chest beneath him rose and fell in a heavy sigh, and Remus’ whole face softened. “I love you, too.”

“Ready to get back to forgetting your own name?”

“God, yes.”

And so, both still snickering like a couple of teenage boys fumbling around in some janitor’s closet instead of their shared bed, they managed to get their shirts off between messy kisses and wandering hands that still made Remus jump when they got too close. “I’m not going to tickle you!” Sirius said, rubbing his flat palms along the smooth skin and all its bumps. “See?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Remus squirmed all the same, though, and planted one more kiss to his lips before shimmying out of his fantastically high-waisted jeans that always made Sirius’ brain lose a few neurons. “One of these days, I should really start doing workouts like you and the team.”

Sirius hummed in question as he mapped the curve of Remus’ shoulder with his teeth and tongue, sliding his own pants down.

“Just to keep up, you know?” More space opened up as Remus turned his head into the pillow, and Sirius made a noise of delight. Fuck, he tastes incredible. “I put on muscle pretty quick—”

His mouth came off with a light pop that made them both grin. “Sweetheart, if you get buff, I won’t survive.”

“No?” Even the mental image of Remus with enough corded muscle to manhandle him a bit—or, god forbid, pick him up—made him stir in his underwear, and his mouth watered. “Oh, okay. I might have to do it anyway, just to see that look on your face.”

“And you call me a menace,” Sirius teased, kissing those plush lips for all he was worth before slipping his hand beneath the elastic waistband.

Remus’ mouth opened against his own with a harsh exhale and his knees knocked against Sirius’ thighs. “Ngh, fuck me.”

“In a minute.”

“Baby.”

“Be patient.”

“No,” he practically whined, bucking his hips up as if to flip their positions. Sirius tightened his grip by half a degree and slid a finger down to press against the soft bit of skin below his cleft; Remus went absolutely still with bated breath. “Oh.”

“Be. Patient.”

Deep copper eyelashes fluttered on Sirius’ cheekbone as he kissed Remus’ temple and began stroking him, slow and steady even while long legs twitched on either side of his waist. “Come on, come on, come on,” Remus panted, shivering slightly while he pushed down on the muscle of Sirius’ bare back with his strong hands.

“I missed you last week,” Sirius murmured. He licked a stripe up his neck and felt Remus writhe in pleasure.

“Uh-huh.”

“FaceTime is not the same, and texting is extremely inconvenient on the bus.”

A lazy grin revealed sharp teeth. “How much did Pots chirp you for—oh—that?”

“He didn’t see anything.” Sirius moved his free hand down to stroke Remus’ inner thigh and watched his jaw go slack. “But Harzy is far too perceptive for his own good. Next time, wait to send nudes until I tell you I’m alone.”

“They weren’t nudes.”

“Were you wearing clothes?”

“…not many. At least I was tasteful about it. Did Harzy actually see them or—” His breath hitched when Sirius pressed beneath the head of his dick. “—or can I continue to look him in the eye?”

Sirius laughed and nuzzled into the scar on Remus’ shoulder. “I had a window seat, so you’re safe for now. He put it together pretty quick, though.”

Remus flexed his fingers and tugged on the waistband of Sirius’ boxers, sliding them as far down as he could. “Off.”

“Alright.” Sirius took his hand away and Remus’ face fell into abject sorrow. “I need both hands, mon coeur.”

“No, you don’t.” Remus ground upward and Sirius swallowed hard as more precum dampened the front of his underwear, then suppressed a shudder when cold fingers closed over his wrist and guided it between them once again. Remus licked into his mouth and pulled him down for more, trapping him with gentle touches and steely thighs. “You’re just dripping for me, huh? Come on, baby, I asked so nicely earlier.”

Sirius could hear his heartbeat in his ears and dragged the last bits of fabric away, sighing at the skin-to-skin contact after over a week of absence. Fuck, it must have been…what, a week and a half since they went beyond hurried blowjobs? More? He growled low in his throat and pushed one of Remus’ legs toward his chest, feeling his sharp smile.

“Finally.”

“I’m not fucking you yet.”

“Is that so?” He sounded amused by the very idea of it.

Fine, then, fuck you too. “Yep. I’m going to work you open until you beg for it and mean it this time.”

“You won’t last that long.”

“Try me, Loops.”

Remus threw his head back and laughed. “Pulling out the nicknames, huh? Alright, Cap.”

Sirius’ teasing smirk dipped on one side as he let the nickname roll over him and tingle up his spine. “Say it again.���

Golden eyes turned dark, glimmering dangerously. “Why should I?”

“You’re just being contrary now.”

“Baby, I’m always contrary.”

“I’ll start opening you up if you say it for me,” he wheedled.

Remus thought for a moment, narrowing his eyes, then settled into place and kissed Sirius’ forehead. “Promise, Cap?”

“Promise.”

Remus inhaled deeply in pure bliss as Sirius’ index finger pressed in to the first knuckle, prodding gently while he grabbed the lube out of the nightstand. After a moment of preparation, he pushed two slick fingers in and kept a careful eye out for his favorite expression.

There.

With a cut-off breath, Remus squeezed his eyes shut, brows pitching up as he bit down on his lip. Part of a moan slipped through and his throat seized when Sirius ran the pads of his fingers along his sweet spot; his jaw ticked at the edge and he buried the side of his face in the pillow with a soft sound.

“You are a work of art,” Sirius said before he could stop himself.

A deep blush spread over Remus’ torso and he smiled. “Yeah?”

“Oui, mon coeur. I could look at you all day long and never get bored.” His back arched and Sirius had a sudden thought as he pushed his own hips into the mattress for some kind of relief. “Have I ever told you that?”

“Hmm, you tell me I’m pretty all the time.” Remus cracked an eye open. “I like it. ‘Work of art’ might be a bit of a stretch.”

“No,” Sirius said. He felt a sudden tightness when he went over a certain spot and concentrated his efforts there, moving carefully and methodically while he tried to keep his wits about him. “It’s not a stretch at all. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, from your toes to your curls.”

The vibrant color reached Remus’ cheeks; he seemed to be struggling and happy at the same time. Outside of the bed, he would’ve brushed off the compliments with a snarky comeback, but Sirius’ words turned him soft and sweet around his fingers. Sirius couldn’t tell who was leaking more. “Stop it,” he mumbled, though his hips rocked slightly.

“Stop what? Telling you how wonderful you are?” Sirius pressed down a little harder and watched his shoulders shake at the heightened feeling. “I don’t think I want to if it means you keep riding my fingers. This is a new development, and I’m curious.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I dunno.” Something frantic crept onto his face and Sirius pushed his boxers down, then took Remus’ wrist and pulled it down to his shaft. “This—is this weird?”

“Complimenting you? Not at all.” Sirius muffled a moan in the hollow of Remus’ throat, feeling his grip grow smoother with each motion. “Fucking hell, you’re fantastic. Just keep doing that, d’accord?”

Remus nodded—all his muscles relaxed as Sirius let up some of the pressure on his prostate and returned to stroking his dick loosely. “Don’t know why I like it. Just do. Are you adding another?”

“No.”

A pleading whine made Sirius smirk. “Why not?”

“Because two fingers are plenty when you’re like this. You can handle it.”

“I still know my name.”

“Then sit and stay until I make you forget it.”

“Sit and stay,” he muttered, though there was an undercurrent of fondness that Sirius didn’t miss. “I’m not a dog.”

“Good boy,” Sirius said with a cheeky grin.

Remus’ eyes flashed open and his free hand gripped the sheets; with a jolt of shock, he came all over Sirius’ hand. “Oh!”

Sirius froze, unsure whether to keep going or call an ambulance. “Re?”

“Say it again,” he demanded, gripping Sirius’ shoulder with a wild edge to his voice. “Say it—say it again, please. Cap, Cap, fuck just say it again.”

“Um…” Sirius shook off his surprise and gave him a light stroke. “Good boy?”

Remus rolled his hips with a low hum. “ ‘s me?”

“…yes?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just—” He pressed his lips together with a noise of pleasure. “God, it’s—Sirius.”

Find the rhythm, figure it out, he told himself. “Can you go again?”

“Yeah, yes, please.”

Remus was already hardening in his hand and Sirius took a few deep breaths to stop himself from coming at the sight before rolling a condom on and grabbing the lube. It wasn’t difficult to get him into the right spot; all his earlier brattiness had faded under the glow of their new discovery. Remus was tight and warm when he finally pressed in, and Sirius knew neither of them would last long. “You’re so good for me,” he said, testing the waters with the few coherent thoughts he had left. “So good, Re.”

“Oh my god,” Remus gasped.

“Fuck, um, what do you want me to say?”

Remus’ legs trembled around his waist. “Tell me I’m good, and—and anything you want to say, oh my god.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of his knee. “You look amazing like this, good boy. So pretty.”

“Holy shit,” Remus laughed in disbelief without opening his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um, fuck, I’m gonna come.” The realization slammed into Sirius and he picked up the pace, losing himself to Remus’ breathless moans as his own noises tumbled from his lips and the edge crept ever closer.

“Yes, yes,” Remus hissed, hiding his face in the junction of Sirius’ neck and shoulder, littering it with sloppy bites that wouldn’t leave proper marks but still sent tingles through Sirius’ whole body.

His orgasm did not sneak up on him by any stretch of the imagination, but it still caught him by surprise and he fell apart in Remus’ arms, then jacked him with a clumsy hand as soon as the world came back into focus. “You’re fucking perfect, mon coeur, now c’mon, come for me—”

Remus stifled a shout into his skin, followed by a drawn-out whimper as he shuddered to pieces. They laid there in total silence for a full minute, save for their heavy breaths. “Um. Hmm.” Remus’ voice was wrecked.

“You okay?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Sirius hesitated. “Are you…going to let go of me?”

“Nope.”

He pulled out, then rubbed his face against Remus’ sweaty hair. “Are you hiding?”

The skin plastered to his own heated up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. Not around me.”

With a grumbly sound, Remus peeled his hands off Sirius’ back and tucked them into his own chest; he made a face when his forearms touched the not-quite-dried come on his front, all flushed and flustered. “That was…interesting.”

“You seemed to like it.”

“Did it bug you?”

“Not even a little,” Sirius answered honestly, kissing the side of his mouth. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you want to clean up now, or do you need a second?”

Remus bit his swollen lower lip and winced. “Can you grab a washcloth or something? I need a minute to think, but then cuddles sound really good.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Sirius kissed him softly and got up, dropping the condom in the trash before using the bathroom. He was halfway through dampening a washcloth in the sink when he heard a sigh of relief from the bedroom. There’s no way he got off again that fast. “Re? Everything alright?”

“I’m not weird!” Remus called back.

“Okay?” He wrung out the cloth and headed back in, wiping his own stomach and thighs before cleaning Remus off.

“Thanks, love, that’s really sweet.”

“No problem. Found something interesting?”

“Mhmm.” Remus passed him his phone. “Apparently, I’m not the only one.”

Sirius squinted at the screen, still a bit addled from the events of the past forty minutes. Praise kink: when someone derives pleasure from being praised by their partner(s), usually in a sexual context. “Cool.”

Remus fit himself under Sirius’ arm with a slow breath. “I’m glad that didn’t freak you out.”

“Nothing that makes you that happy will ever freak me out,” Sirius said, pulling the covers up higher. “I like learning new things about you.”

“Ditto.” A small, contented smile lit his whole face and he closed his eyes, spreading a hand over the left side of Sirius’ chest. Sirius was definitely going to be sore in the morning—sex after a long week of travel always made his hamstrings cramp up—but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

He wrapped his arms tight around Remus and basked in his warmth. “Mmm. Good boy.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

[royalydamned]

SOAKED

|Mycroft Holmes x Reader|

|AN|: I haven't written one shot, let alone something x reader in like? two years? maybe? Reader is written as non-specified gender and is only referred to as "you" , so no pronouns for reader. My love for Mycroft suddenly hit me like a truck after years so I had to contribute.

Summary: Bit of rain, whole lot of feelings, and one love confession. Maybe storms aren't that bad, if they show you that you are worthy of love after all. In Mycroft's case for sure.

Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. The clock on the wall in front of him showed early afternoon, yet cold and darkness spread outside of his windows as the sun hid behind heavy clouds early in the morning. Peaceful but gloomy day. Still, the heavy pounding of rain against the glass of widows and road, as well as the rustle of the wet trees in the wind was oddly peaceful and comforting.  He had a hard day of work behind him, and another evening of more work ahead, just another weak attempt to distract himself from a foul mood he was put in because of the complications that came with the weather. 

Important plans, well, to him at least. He was supposed to get to see you.

A busy man he was, that wasn't even up for a question. His schedule tightly packed with meetings, paperwork and more than occasional fixing of his brother's mess, or just simply preventing it, it left a very little time for pleasant distractions such as a quiet time spend with delicious cup of tea and your sweet smile. Today was not the day for distraction it seemed, certainly not as big as your company, that left him flustered and distracted hours after you said your goodbyes. 

Your meetings were always a special occasion, even if they were short, brief and unfrequent because of how far you lived, Mycroft always cherished them for weeks following, replaying your lovely laugh and almost sparkling eyes in his head as he woke up and texted you a good morning message, or as he layed down to sleep and wished you sweet dreams. 

He might have...cared. For you, your happiness, your well being. Much more than he would ever admit, to others that is. Inside his own mind, he knew far too well how utterly enamored he was with you. 

The eldest Holmes wasn't the one to act, God forbid act upon his feelings. He could watch you, with crushing ache in his heart and deep longing as you always talked about your newest acquaintanceship, secretly wishing you held the same sentiments as he did. 

You never seemed to have a shortage of suitors at your heels, one better looking that the other, with charming smiles and magnetic personas. Likeable, social, just as you deserved. While he--, well, there was no need to ruin his day further with self-describtions. He knew very well how others percieved him and how he looked. Sherlock never failed to remind him if he occasionally forgot. 

Mycroft Holmes was aware, that he was nothing anyone would have ever wanted. 

The relationship the two of you had now was more than he could ask for, in all honesty. Time spent together, secrets shared in quiet moments and deep trust you held, it was enough. It was all he needed, if he still could watch over you. 

Outside a thunder struck, pulling him from the spiral of thoughts that he always seemed to fall into in the loneliest moments. With a deep sigh he stood up from behind his desk, eyes burning from how long he stared into the bright computer screen, and made his way downstairs into the liquor cabinet. He deserved a small break. 

His house was dark, almost like a nighttime had fallen outside, but he didn't bother turning on the lights, instead he carefully climbed down the stairs, gripping the wooden railing at the side for security. By the end of the staircase, he deeply regretted his foolish decision, but before he could make even one step towards the nearest lightswitch, a doorbell stopped him. 

Confused, he opened the door, only praying not to see his younger brother and his babysitter standing outside, as he had no intention nor the mood to put up with his obnoxious antics this afternoon, but instead his eyes landed on you. 

A soft surpised gasp escaped his mouth as he saw you on his doorstep, shivering with cold, your clothes completely soaked, excess droplets falling on your face and the tiles outside, and arms cluthing yourself for the tiniest bit of warmth. 

"|Y/N|?" He asked in quiet disbelief, almost as if he thought  he was imagining you. 

"We agreed to meet after too long, like hell a bit of rain would stop me," you replied with a victorious grin, lips almost purple from the cold and your whole body visibly trembling. 

"Foolish," he muttered pulling you gently inside from the atrocious weather. "You are completely soaked."

"You apparently have that effect on me," you smirked, the witty remark escaping your lips without control, and Mycroft was glad you couldn't see the embarrassed shade his cheeks caught. "No, but really, I walked most of the time. You know the tube is too far away from your place, and I didn't have enough money for a cab, I figured it isn't going to be that bad."

"It was." 

"It was," you agreed, rubbing your hands together in quick motions, trying to gain the feeling back into your fingers. 

"You should change or else you'll catch cold, come." You let him grab your hand, his skin pleasantly warm against your cold numbed one. He tried to think about anything else rather than the feeling of your connected hands, there were more important things now than such minor distractions. The image of you walking outside in the storm, just to see him. Just to be with him. It sent the most pleasant feeling into his stomach, the idea that maybe, he was almost as important to you as you were to him. But that was nothing but a wishful thinking, a desire of a naive man, and that is not who Mycroft was. There was no need for false hopes and embellished reality. 

He lead you into his bedroom, the idea of what it would normally mean coloring his cheeks, but he ignored those intrusive thoughts, focusing on helping you warm up in any way possible. "You have to change into dry clothes. Mine should be sufficient for now." 

"Alright." Came your voice from behind him, and he turned around to see your topless form. 

His breath hitched as he quickly dropped his gaze onto the floor, trying to keep the image he saw out of his mind, out of respect for you. No matter how badly he wished to remember it. Your skin glistening with water, body hiding under the clothes he strangely found himself craving, too primal and illogical for himself to admit. It was too hard keeping his head clear, with the sight from a few seconds ago burned into his brain, unable to ignore, unablet to forget, twisting his inside it certain ways he rarely felt before. 

"I will wait outside," he stated finally, pushing the neatly folded pile of clothing towards you without looking up in the slightest, and left the room. 

 When he shut the door after him, he finally felt like he could breathe easily again. Leaning against the doorframe, replaying the moment again and again, against his own better judgemnet, without the willpower to stop himself, and gulped heavily, trying to get rid of the strange sensation inside of him. 

It was like his feelings weren't enough. Like the fact that he, after all, wasn't too different to others, as he was so deeply affected by the helpless emotions of love and how deeply he was hurting with every moment without you. So depended on your presence bringing him joy. Now he steeped so low as physical attraction, pure desire of your touch and your body. He would mock himself if he could, you were just too much. 

A soft click of the doorknob caught his attention, and stayed almost staring, asking himself over and over again, why does he love the sight of you in his clothes so much. 

You hugged yourself tightly, still trembling significanty, but now at least rid of the wet clothes, and smiled up at him, with warmth only you could muster at such a moment. "This is much better, thank you. Sorry for such complications." 

"Nonsense," he huffed almost annoyed, like your health would ever be a complication. To him. Ridiculous. "Come, I think fire and a nice cup of tea will warm you up." Placing a hand on the small of your back, he led you back downstairs, where the big fireplace was. The close proximity the gesture put you in flustered you both, but Mycroft didn't want to let go. And neither did you. 

You turned to him, looking up into his face, smiling mischieviously when he caught your eyes. "Don't you have anything stronger?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, strongly liking your idea. "Your wish is my command."

Downstairs, he found the thickest blanket he had, tightly wrapping it around your shoulders, and you snuggled into its comfort immediately, watching him struggle to start a fire. 

"I suppose you aren't the one for camping," you mused with a small smile, giggling shortly at his grimace. 

"My, how could you possibly deduce that?" A tiny flame sparked inside, dacing across the thick logs of wood before disappearing under them, and growing rapidly. Mycroft stood up from the ground, dusting off the dirt and ashes from his hands and clothes, and looked rather proudly at his work. 

"I guess I was wrong. You are full of surprises, Mr. Holmes." A warm light from the fireplace illuminated your features, the growing flames sparkling in your eyes, and Mycroft stayed just to watch. He didn't believe in perfection, that concept was unachievable and he never believed in such terms, but as he watched you in this  moment, hair frizzy as they were drying from the water, the messy strands falling into your face, and just  then as he watched the orange light color your skin with small smile on your lips , he though you were the only one that came close. 

"Well," he inhaled sharply, pulling himself from the love-sick trance, and smiled back at you, the expression coming off more forced than it really was. "I shall go and fetch us something to drink." 

Later he came back with two short glasses and bottle of a still unopened liquor bottle, sealed with silver paper and a stamp of the highest quality, almost unnoticable smile playing on his lips as he made his way back to you, where you set cross-legged on the little carpet right in front of the fire. He copied your position, awkardly folding his legs, your knees almost touching, and placed the two glasses into the space between you. 

"I'm just," he started unsurely, pouring each of you a glass with impressive precision in the amount, and looked at you again, almost shyly. "I'm very glad we got to spend our evening together after all."

"I'm very glad as well Mycroft," you answered, a fond look in your eyes as you looked at the man in front of you and raised your glass in a silent gesture. He repeated the motion, nodding his head courtly your direction, and took a small sip, watching you in astonishment as you drank it all at once. "Getting warmer already," you laughed, watching the smile on his face widen at your comment and poured you another glass. 

You set together for what felt like hours, and maybe it was, in comfortable silence by the melody of the cracking fire beside you, the bottle almost fully drank and the personal space between you long gone. Your feet were tangled together in the middle, knees pressed against each other, both supporting your heads on your hands as you talked, with blissful smiles and faces almost too close. 

Mycroft adjusted his posture, resting his chin on his connected hands supported on his thighs as he watched you attentively, noticing and drinking in every detail of your face, your voice your tipsy mannerisms. He could never tear his gaze off you, you were captivating, like a mysterious painting hanging in the gallery, attracting everyone to look, to try to figure it out, and know everything about it. But he knew everything about you, and still he wanted to learn even more. Secrets you never told him, things he simply couldn't just see. Every morning he wanted to see your face, to give him the strenght to go through it, and ever evening he wanted to come back to it, because you felt like home. And Mycroft hated himself for being so melodramatic. This wasn't him, all these thoughts, all these emotions, they were stronger than his healthy judgement, which was already clouded by alcohol. 

 "Wasn't your partner worried, just going outside in such a storm?" You huffed out a breath, both amusement and annoyance mixing in that display of emotion, and Mycroft quite couldn't place, what it meant. 

"We broke up several days ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that," he said genuinely, even though inside he felt selfish joy that he won't have to hear about yet  another perfect match for you, another reminder of everything he wasn't. And could never be. Nothing you wanted nor needed. 

"Don't be, nobody I met yet was really for me," you mumbled, dropping your eyes into the empty glass in your hands, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"Why is that?" He took the last sip from his glass and carefully set it on the coffee table by his side, his full attention at you again. 

"When you meet so many people, good-looking, charming and kind people, but none of them fits you, none of them is right because you set impossible standard, almost unachievable by most people." You set aside your own glass, shifting even closer to him, hearing how he took in a sharp breath, hesitantly straightening his back. 

"That must happen when one deserves perfection," he answered looking longinly into your eyes, unable to look away. You were truly hypnotising, the only thing he could look at hours without  a break and never get tired. The only person he grew to love so deeply. Truly one of a kind. 

"Oh, not perfection, heavens no," you laghed, throwing your head back a little at that, and he still couldn't look away. Why was it so amusing, someone as perfect, as flawless, deserved nothing less than the same. "The thing being, that it's too far from perfection, and in a world where people desire nothing more than to eliminate their flaws, something perfectly imperfect is unachievable."

You leaned closer to him, licking your lips, already pink and sweet again, without realizing, and he almost lost his control. Swallowing heavily, he forced himself to look back into your eyes, trying to forget about the questions appearing in his mind. How would your lips possibly taste? How would it feel having you so close? Heating you up with his own body, blanket too long forgotten?

He couldn't think that way. He had to collect himself, but he didn't know how. Subconciously, he leaned in as well, the gap between your faces just inches apart, your breaths almost shared in one, and it felt like he was dreaming. If that was the truth, he never wanted to wake up.  

"They all lacked just one thing though," you whispered, placing your hand on his leg for support, making Mycroft to freeze completely, too disturbed by the contact and the overwhelming heat it sent through his body to think about anything else. 

"That being?" he forced himself to say, his throat tight and voice quiet, almost as if he had lost his breath. 

"They just weren't...you." A simple statement, a plain sentence bearing more meaning than most conversations he had been part of. His gaze abruptly shot back up, cathing he own almost instantly, but no words made their way out. He couldn't talk nor move, shock too obvious on his features, that even a child would know. 

His hands moved on his own, the other times brilliant brain, his biggest pride during his whole life now shut off by a few simple words, his body moving without a single though. Your cheek was warm already, burning hot under his skin as he gently caressed it, moving out a fallen strand from your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb like you were the most fragile thing in the world. 

"May I kiss you?" you breathed out, your eyes looking up at him, sparkling with emotion he thought he would never see in them, and he nodded, fulfilling himself the one wish that seemed too impossible for a realistic man to hold. 

Your lips met in the middle, slow and hesitant as you both silently prayed you wouldn't wake u in the middle of the nigh and find out it was yet another dream. 

He sighed deeply into the kiss as you moved to sit in his lap and deepened the kiss, pressing your lips against his more roughly, more needily, hands carefully placed on his neck and your whole body so deliciously pressed against his. So hot and soft, an opposite picture to your arrival, sinding the most pleasant shivers through his whole body with every slight movement in his arms. Mycroft's arms ended up wrapped around your waist, tightly cluthing your body to his like he was afraid you would leave. He couldn't let go. He never wanted to let go. 

After a short while, seconds, maybe minutes, he didn't know, the best moments of his life, you pulled away, only slightly to cath your breath, and rested your own forehead against his. He could smell the rain in your hair and your unique scent all around him, and he wanted to remember it all. Every single detail, to replay it, to dream it. To live it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, too long of a silence from his last words, and finally gather up the courage to open his eyes and look at you again. At your glowing eyes and wide smile, at your messy hair and body tangled in his blanket, in his own gaze, you were the perfect everyone seeked. 

"I love you too Mycroft."

And he never wanted to hear a sentence repeated so much as in that moment. Fortunately, you would never get tired of saying it. 

#mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #sherlock #sherlock bbc

[theoreticslut]

“Do you feel the same?” // d.m.

derek morgan x reader

 requested: for @anxiousblanketqueen ’s bday writing challenge!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: slightly angsty, but overall just fluff & flirting

A/N: okay, first ever derek morgan fic & I’m not sure how I feel about it. I like it, but at the same time I feel like it’s just not as good as it could be, you know? in all fairness, i am still trying to get through the series so I don’t have a total grasp at his character yet, but I tried. let me know what you think? It’d be so deeply appreciated 💗 anyways, I have another fic for Jill’s writing challenge that I’m thinking I’ll put out either thursday or friday?! It’s a spicier one so that’s exciting. keep an eye out for it! Xx

taglist: tagging my general taglist once again - if you don’t read for criminal minds, just ignore this. Also, if you still havent filled out my new taglist form, please do! Xx

general taglist - @accioalix @captaincactusjuice @inglourious-imagines @keepawaythenargles @lemongrasshoney @onyourgoddamleft  @valiantobservationkitty @concepcion @eternallyvenus @fandomwhoress @fleurho @fredweasleyzwh0re @harleigh110 @hufflepuffflowers @hufflrpuffforfred @i-miei-amori @littlemisswitt @sammy-the-gay @sightiff @starstruckgranger @teenwolfbitches2 @watermelonsugar2810 @harrypotterwifey @ioverslane99 @darthwheezely @callmelilone @teawiththeweasleys @softlyqoos @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog @msmimimerton @perfectlysane24 @mischievous-queen @bunnyboo7 @grandeoptimist @daddystevee @slytherinxhunter @streetfighterrichie @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @isthereanymorejello @karushinekomiya @p0gue420 @hogwartslut @sebby-staan @fredshmeasley

General CM  - @anxiousblanketqueen @your-hispanichufflepuff @yikesyikesyikes95 @livvysnaps

It’s unusually quiet as everyone boards the jet. While the case had ended as good as one can, it had been a long and extremely tiring ordeal. You’re pretty sure that everyone is in agreement that you all need a day off to rest.

However, the best you can get at the moment is to try to get some peace on the flight back, and maybe if your lucky, get an hour or so of sleep.

Unfortunately, you are not one of the lucky ones.

“How’re you doing?” Derek asks as he settles himself into the seat across from you.

“Fine. Tired, but I think we all are.” You smile, drawing a chuckle from the man.

“You got that right, y/n.”

You nod lazily as you take in his appearance. He tries to hide it, but you can see how tired he is in his eyes and in how his shoulders sag.

“Enjoying the view, sweet girl?”

“Sure,” you scoff with a smile, eyes automatically rolling in their sockets.

Ever since you started at the BAU, you and Derek have had a flirtatious relationship with each other. It started with him throwing flirty comments your way to see you get all flustered and annoyed, but as soon as you started throwing them back, it’s become more of a game to see who could be more flirtatious. So far neither of you have yet to win.

“You know, you scoff and roll your eyes, but I think - no, I know - that you secretly do like me.” He smirks, loving as you shake your head and try to bite back a smile.

“Yeah right, Morgan. If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

At that, he lets out a hearty laugh which you hate to admit sends butterflies to your stomach.  In an attempt to hide just how much he gets to you still, you pull out a book and flip to the page you left off on.

~.~

It’s been nearly an hour and a half since you’ve started reading and Derek hasn’t been able to stop admiring you. He tries not to make it obvious, but he can only pull his attention from you for a few minutes at most.

In all honesty, he didn’t want to stop admiring you. If he could, he be more than happy to just watch you all day, every day.

You’ve only become more sleepy since boarding the plane and reading. Curling yourself up into a small ball, and yawning continuously for the last half hour, It’s impossible for Derek to not find you adorable.

“Derek, I can feel you looking at me.”

He can’t help but smirk as you don’t even look up from your book. You don’t even try and yet you’re stunning.

He’s adored you since the moment you first walked through the BAU doors four years ago. He didn’t realize then that the beautiful woman walking through the doors was going to be his teammate, but it’s been an enjoyable four years ever since.

While the nature of this job may be dark at times, he only needs to look at you to find light. Not only are you unbelievably attractive, kind, and empathetic, but your so brilliant and skilled at so many things - the job in particular. Out of all the reasons he could hate the job, he would always say how great it is as long as he got to work with you.

“Yeah? And?”

“Can you stop?” You question, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I can, but I’m not sure I want to.”

“And why’s that?”

He smiles, a little chuckle leaving his lips as you finally look up at him.

“You’re really nice to look at. Wouldn’t want to deprive myself of such a beauty,” he winks.

“Oh good god, Derek. You sure are laying it on thick tonight.” You groan, wondering how you found yourself here.

It’s not that you didn’t like his flirting and sweet comments, but you just worried what it all meant at times. He obviously was flirty with Penelope, but it was obvious that they were the best of friends. With you, you couldn’t tell. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t tell what you wanted it to be. Either way, it scared you.

“I’m just telling you the truth, darling.”

You shake your head, trying to hide a smile as he watches you. You don’t need to fall for him. You don’t need to fall for your teammate more than you already have.

It’s easy to find yourself swooning to Derek’s words, and even easier to find yourself falling for him, but you needed to stop it. Being in love with a teammate will only make things difficult, if not ruin things completely.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, not able to ignore his almost love-sick stare.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in love or something.”

“Maybe I am.” He shoots back, thoroughly shocking you. It’s hard to keep quiet when you had nearly choked on air.

You try to keep a calm façade, but you’re certain he can read the panic in your eyes.

“Derek...”

“No, I know. I know it’s hard being in love with someone doing this job, even harder when it’s someone on the team, but I can’t help it, y/n.”

You look around the jet to find everyone either sleeping or preoccupied with their own entertainment. You sigh, glad that no one is overhearing this.

“Derek...what do you want me to do?” You sigh, heart sinking as your mind runs a mile a minute.

“Like you said, it’s hard enough being in love with someone while doing this job, let alone that person being someone on the team.”

He sighs, frowning as he falls back into his chair, not really sure what to say. He knew to never share his true feelings with you, but he got so caught up in the back and forth that he couldn’t stop himself from spilling.

“Do you feel the same?”

You look at him, making contact with his beautifully dark eyes. You sigh softly, reading the emotions swirling behind his irises.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Derek, it’s easy to fall for you when you’re you. You’re so physically and mentally strong, you’re unbelievably knowledgeable, you’re talented in so many ways...” You start, watching as he watches you with his full attention.

“You’re funny, and sweet, and so much fun to be around. You’re a natural leader with the charisma to match, and I swear you know how to light up a room without trying. You make people around you feel comforted, and you never break your promises. You’re undeniably amazing...”

“But?” He asks, still watching you.

“But I’ve tried so hard to not let myself fall for you because of the risk it would be, and if you know anything about me, I know awfully well how to put up walls...especially when it comes to my heart.”

“God, I know. You take on everyone else’s pain and sell yourself out to the very last string, but god forbid if anyone try to do the same for you.”  He chuckles, shaking his head at the situation.

“I’ve seen you, y/n. I know you’re friends with everyone on this jet right now, but I’ve seen how you don’t let a single one of them help you when you really need it. I suppose that’s one of the things that I came to like about you.”

“What do you mean?”

You watch as he chuckles, shaking his head, before meeting your gaze.

“I love how you’re willing to help everyone else, but I want to be the one to get through to you that you need someone to help you. I want to be that person who helps you when you won’t let anyone else.”

You bite back a smile as you take in his words. Out of everyone, you have always felt the most comfortable asking Derek for help. That doesn’t mean you ever have though.

You have to admit though that it’d be nice knowing someone is on your side and willing to comfort you like you comfort others.

“You’re making me fall for you again, Derek Morgan.” You huff playfully.

“Sweet girl, I’ve already completely fallen. The least I can do now is to catch you.”

You shake your head, trying your hardest not to let that smile break, but it’s impossible when it’s derek.

He smiles himself as he watches you, biting your lip although the smile has already taken over your face. God what he would give to see that smile directed at him every day. Just knowing that he can cause you to smile that sincerely, and that big, has his heart melting.

“I’d love to be with you, Derek, but I think we both know neither of us can step away from the job. We’d have to be able to put our relationship on pause whenever we’re on a case...”

“I know. Trust me I know. I’m more than willing to try it though if you are.”

“Okay then.”

He smiles, watching as a small blush heats up your cheeks, smirking when he gets an idea.

“Y/n y/l/n, when this jet lands, would you give me the honor of taking your pretty face on a date?”

You can’t help but chuckle as you nod. Only Derek would ask you out on a date in the goofiest of tones, but you can't say you mind it. You’ve always liked just how happy he makes you.

“I suppose I will.” You smile, chuckling as he punches the air in excitement before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“This will be the best decision of your life, I swear it. I love you so much, y/n.”

“I love you too, Derek. More than you probably realize.”

He smiles, placing a kiss to your forehead before scooting into the seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You chuckle but can’t stop the smile from gracing your features as you pull your book back up to your face to read, already feeling so much safer - and happier - in derek’s arms.

#JTR23 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan angst

[lansyuan]

do you love fics where wei wuxian and lan wangji parent the crap out of lan sizhui? do you want to read accidental baby acquisition fics until your eyes bleed? would you die as your heart slowly turns to mush from the softness of this family? bitch the fuck, me too. here are some of my personal favourite fics of wangxian ft their turnip son a-yuan. its a range of canon divergence, post canon, thirteen years of inquiry, raising a-yuan at the burial mounds au etc - there’ll be something for literally everyone. enjoy!

the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (38k+)

When A-Yuan gets sick and Wen Qing doesn't have the supplies she needs to properly treat him, Wei Wuxian can only think of one place to go for help. 

a crying shame by thunderwear (16k+)

Lan Wangji gets emotionally blackmailed by a toddler. It somehow fixes everything.

to recollect and long for by wonderlands (22k+) *2/3 works posted at time of posting this rec list.

a 3-part series about best boy lan sizhui and his wonderful dads who love him and each other very much.

forgetting envies, remembering your loving hold by cosmicfuss (3k+)

The first time Zewu-jun plays for him he is five and the man is trying to comfort him, playing soft songs good for soothing children. It works to a degree but he wants his gege, he wants his gege to play his lullaby. Zewu-jun apologizes and tells him that his gege is hurting right now, and needs to be alone to get better.

When he plays the xiao, A-Yuan says, "you're holding it wrong!" When he turns fourteen, he learns to play guqin, and is many years ahead of his classmates in that regard. A large factor in that is how much he has practiced Inquiry. He has grown up hearing snippets from the jingshi, of Wangji attempting to reach a spirit that never answers.

When he's sixteen, he hears a familiar tune played in the forest, he and his fellow juniors battling a stone god. It's been years since he's heard it, and he wonders why this man, Mo Xuanyu, knows it so well.

Or, Lan Sizhui grows up and learns, and remembers.

five times wei wuxian tried to embarrass lan sizhui by blackelement7 (6k+)

(and one time he realized just how badly he'd played himself)

or: In which Wei Wuxian starts a fight but Lan Sizhui (with some meddling from Lan Jingyi) ends it.

inquiry by incendir (10k+)

Sizhui cannot fall asleep for a long, long time that night. He hears the ever-familiar melody again. He thinks perhaps he has memorized it by now.

storge by respira (9k+)

Lan Sizhui is a lake.

as the warren grows in number by kore_fics (3k+)

Before Sizhui could take another step he was surrounded by black and red, loud laughter in his ears and warm fingers running through his hair, messing it up. Palms squished both his cheeks together and Lan Sizhui let out a laugh.

Lan Sizhui was home.

tell some storm* by qurbat (31k+) *the moments with Sizhui are in chapter 2, however I highly recommend reading the whole fic, it’s adorable.

"We were raised as a generation of war, A-Yuan," Xian-gege said to him. "If your generation choses to be one of love - well, I don't think any of us would be opposed to that."

In the aftermath of the events at the Guanyin temple, the cultivation world scrambles to understand their current reality. A man roams the countryside with a string of white in his hair. Another sits on the highest seat of power with a ribbon of red around his forehead. The younger generation turns out to be full of romantics. Nie Huaisang is to blame for everything, always. Jiang Cheng realizes that happiness has been more that 16 years overdue.

Wei Wuxian declares that it's time that bitch pays up.

After a generation of war - much to the consternation of the elders, much to the delight of the young, much to the pleased shock of the subjects of the tale - the world welcomes a love story with open arms.

guess we're not eating leaves today by missingnarwhal (2k+)

Baby A-Yuan has cooked up a feast, but only one lucky gege will actually get to taste it!

Set in an alternate timeline where everything is okay after Wei Ying + Wens started living in the Burial Mounds.

response by aki_no_hikari (12k+)

What if Wei Wuxian hadn't been silent to Lan Wangji's Inquiry?

love, in all its small pieces by ynvel (4k+)

Ah Yuan is brought to the Cloud Recesses and exchanges the sun and its ashes for the clouds. Lan Wangji brings a boy home, calls him his son, and renews the promises he made.

Or: Lan Sizhui is adopted by Lan Wangji and learns about his new life. Lan Wangji in turn learns about hope and living again.

child surprise by ariaste (4k+)

He huffs a sigh. “Fine. Just - let’s just make it the law of surprise, shall we? That’s nice and simple, eh? Leave it up to destiny what will bring us back in balance. Let it drop something of yours into my lap, something small, and we’ll call the debt paid.”

Three debts, three repayments.

there's a lunatic in mo village by bastetcg (11k+)

There's a lunatic in Mo Village! And to Lan Sizhui's surprise, Hanguang-Jun has decided to bring the madman back to the Cloud Recesses! How embarrassing!

A mostly canon-compliant look into Lan Sizhui's thoughts and childhood.

on being a big boy by emberloey (1k+)

“My little A-Yuan,” Dad had said the next morning, kneeling down to A-Yuan’s height with a smile, “all grown up now. Soon you’ll be hunting without your poor old dads.”

“Never!” A-Yuan shook his head and latched onto Father’s leg. He smiled up at Father, who smiled back and nodded his head. “A-Yuan always needs Dad and Father!”

in all these shades of blue (i think we found you) by fleetling (5k+)

5 times Sizhui thought about his father's white robes, and 1 time Lan Wangji wore blue.

(Or: Lan Sizhui had never seen his father in anything other than white robes.)

this is when the feeling sinks in, i don't want to miss you like this (come back, be here) by mischievousmurmurs (6k+)

Just now… the butterflies’ conversation. Where did you learn that from, Ah-Yuan?

Ah-Yuan pats his chest. In here, shushu. I feel it in here. And in here, too, he adds, pointing to his head.

Sizhui has never quite been able to remember nor forget the memory of seeing people who he knows loved each other, loved him, and whom he loved in return.

or - a wangxian story, as told by their adopted son.

yours, mine, and ours by casecous (2k+)

When they have both mostly recovered, and A-Yuan is back to his smiling, playful self, Lan Wangji presents him with a forehead ribbon. A-Yuan’s little fingers bump into Lan Wangji’s thumbs as he traces the cloud motif along it.

“You are Lan now. This is very important,” Lan Wangji tells him and A-Yuan looks away from the ribbon to meet his eyes. “You must not take it off as you please. Only family may touch it.”

A series of wangxian family moments.

innocence by snowberryrose (8k+)

In which Wei WuXian gets to raise A-Yuan.

Canon divergence from episode 31.

to recollect and long for by mme_anxious (4k+)

Lan Xichen is there when his brother becomes a father. Lan Sizhui is there when his father's heart breaks, again. Wei Wuxian is there when his son gets drunk for the first time.

Or, the GusuLan forehead ribbon, in three parts.

our little one by writedeku (6k+)

A-Yuan is here. A-Yuan, who Wei Ying loved so much. A-Yuan, who was taught to laugh just like him. Wangji hugs him to his chest and curls over him, ignoring the way the wounds on his back pull and tear. “I have to take care of you,” he says. “I will not leave you.”

(Or: Lan Wangji comes back from Yiling with a child he does not know how to care for and a black hole in his chest. Somehow, he makes it work.)

gathered herbs & sweet grasses by hansbekhart (19k+)

Later, when he’s older, it’s this that A-Yuan will remember most: the stretch of silence, the two of them both dirty and shaking with fever, as he looked at Brother Rich, and Brother Rich looked back at him.

the sacred homeland by particulate (8k+)

He has many names, and some are mouthfuls of blood.

[Or; a chronology of Sizhui, in which he does not forget.]

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (19k+)

His father in white plays the song late into the night, and when A-Yuan wakes up confused and afraid, the guqin lulls him back to sleep.

Lan Sizhui hears his father play the same song every night for his whole life, and never, ever get an answer.

when he comes home to you by kika988 (2k+)

Home is Cloud Recesses now, and that's a thing Wei Wuxian is still getting used to. He still feels like a guest here, most days, though Lan Wangji has done everything to make him feel at home. He stands out like a sore thumb amongst the serene disciples and flowing white fabric.

Cloud Recesses has been home to Lan Wangji and Sizhui for years. It is their home, where they've built their family.

The thought warms Wei Wuxian even as it sits a little ill with him. He's an intruder here, in their homes, in their lives, the same way he had been in Lotus Pier.

five times people didn’t know sizhui is lan zhan’s son and one time they did by trilliastra (3k+)

“A-Yuan.” He repeats, reaching out for the boy, growing restless when he can’t touch him. “A-Yuan.”

Oh. Lan Xichen closes his eyes as the tears start to fall. Oh, Wangji.

Carefully, Lan Xichen takes the boy and lays him next to his brother on the bed, Wangji holds him protectively against his chest and A-Yuan stops his little cries immediately.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen tries again, running a hand through his brother’s hair softly, “who is he?”

“He’s my son.”

5 times the lan head disciple broke the rules by liji (6k+)

“I am not aware of any rule forbidding falling in love,” Hanguang-Jun said at last. There was a quiet sadness in his eye, like he was watching a scene from far away. The novelty of it gave Sizhui the courage to ask his next question.

“Have you ever been in love, Father?” he asked.

(or, five times that Sizhui broke the Lan sect's rules growing up)

the seasons change (but i love you the same) by kdkdkd (7k+)

"Hanguang-jun!"

When did you stop calling me Bàba, A-Yuan?

Lan Wangji had always promised himself that he would never become a poor father like his own had been.

Unfortunately, it feels like he has failed to keep that promise.

✨ bonus round ✨ uncle jiang cheng and nephew lan sizhui

tintinnabulum by respira (8k+)

A small bell chimes, the sound soft and pleasant like the water crashing against a pier, like low whistles in an empty cave, like a guqin playing a lullaby.

#the untamed #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #lan yuan #wen yuan #wangxian family #wangxian fic rec #myficrecs #creations #listen i just really love this family #1k

[kenzumekodma]

18+ only, minors do not interact

pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader, politician au

warnings: power imbalance, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, cum swallowing, finger sucking, teensiest bit of praise, one instance of canadian spelling

summary: if this was going to happen, you might as well commit to it. there were worse people to fuck on a monday morning than shouto todoroki.

wc: 2.5k

His father’s the highest ranking politician in the prefecture, you remind yourself. Just grit your teeth and bear it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Shouto. No, he didn’t like you, was more like it. Ever since you took on the job as his assistant you’ve shouldered this feeling that absolutely seeped from him, this feeling that he was inherently superior to you and you were nothing. A means to an end.

At first his quiet indifference bothered you, but as the weeks wore into months, into nearly a year… really you just stopped giving a shit. Sure, you’d gone into this job bright eyed and bushy tailed, answering with a quick yes sir, no sir to any questions he asked you. Slowly, though, your energy dropped, your output matching Shouto’s.

Coming into your work anniversary, a time when you’d imagined you’d be kicking your feet up for a night and enjoying a lighter workload, if not a night off, you walked into the office to a more chaotic scene. You groaned into the plastic lid of your to-go coffee. The hot liquid was your only saving grace. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath through your nose, steeled yourself as you held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled through your mouth, lips closed into a small ‘o’. With renewed nerves, you open your eyes and walk into the elevator, making your way towards Mr. Todoroki’s office.

Large solid walnut doors met you a few short strides away from the elevator. Balancing your coffee, Mr. Todoroki’s tea, and your work bag precariously but with the confidence that comes with practice as you turned the brushed bronze handle. As expected, Mister Perfect was sat behind his desk. Larger than it really needs to be, you thought, like so many things tend to be when you’re living off the bank of Daddy’s Popularity.

“What’s all the fuss about downstairs?” you asked, setting Shouto’s tea down on the coaster he had waiting for it, just like he had every day for a year. He shrugged.

“Elections are coming up. My old man wants me to run for a seat on council.”

You nodded. “And that’s why I woke up to an email this morning from Endeavor offices saying Mr. Todoroki Sr. is scheduled to come by at 10:30 today with exactly zero context.” Shoto nodded once.

“There’s no point in stopping him. He has the knowledge and I need it, I guess.”

You sighed, resigned to planning a last minute visit for the man who’s effectively your boss’s boss.

“It’s too bad,” he started, pausing to take a sip of tea. Deadpan expression still resting on your face, you quirk a brow at him, a silent what? hanging in the air. “Too bad that my old man will have to see you like this. You’ve changed since he hired you for me,” Shoto said as he stood, tea placed flawlessly in the centre of its coaster. He stalked around the desk, getting ever closer to you. Instinctively, you went to place your coffee on the desk, but you caught yourself, putting your work bag on the floor, bending to pick up your planner from it. You missed Shouto’s eyes grazing down the back of your form, hesitating at your thighs, where their plushness was accentuated by the hem of your tight, light grey skirt digging in slightly. You slid your planner onto the luxury desk, using it as a makeshift coaster for your cup.

The corner of Shouto’s lip turned up almost imperceptibly. “You used to be so polite, y/n.” He took another step towards you and you froze in confusion.

“I…” you trailed off.

“You what?” he goaded, getting closer to you again. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the aforementioned not giving a shit, maybe it was the surprise stress of Enji Todoroki’s insistence on the election, but you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and speak your mind to your boss for the first time.

“I just, I know that you think of me as lesser, and it’s true. I am. I know that, you know that. You’re political royalty and I’m just trying to make rent. So what’s the point in trying to get you to respect me with pretty words?”

“Lesser, is that so?” he murmured. He was upon you now, slender hand reaching out to take your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. A mixture of confidence and careful carelessness swirled behind Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes. Bicoloured hair slipped from its place to frame his sculpted cheekbones as he looked down at you.

“I’m a means to your end, and likewise for you. If we’re going to use each other we should feel good too, right? Now, wouldn’t you say the best place for inferior little girls like you is on their knees?” His eyes flickered to your lips, to your eyes, to your lips again. The last three honeyed words dripped from his lips and straight to your panties making you clench around nothing. The span of four minutes and he’d already flipped everything you thought about him on its head.

In your doe-eyed stupor you hadn’t even noticed how fucking wet you’d gotten although it was undeniable when your thighs rubbed together as you shifted your weight back and forth.

“Well?” Shouto asked, voice quiet. You nodded, bringing his hand up and down with your face. He patted your cheek. “That’s what I thought. Down,” he commanded. Shame rose in you as you dropped to the floor, flush crawling up your neck making you feel as red as half of your boss’s hair.

You looked up at him for further instruction to see him unbuttoning the top two buttons of his expensive linen shirt. Instinctively you lifted your hands to unbuckle his designer belt, but he swatted them away.

“What makes you think you’re worthy of touching anything of mine? This costs more than your salary,” he sneered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, Mr. Todoroki,” you corrected yourself.

“Not quite. Try again,” he tutted. You felt the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, causing you to turn your gaze downward.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled.

“I can’t hear you all the way down there. Speak up,” Shouto demanded.

“I, I’m sorry Sir,” you said, louder this time and with more confidence. If this was going to happen, you figured you might as well commit to it. There were worse people to fuck on a Monday morning than Shouto Todoroki.

“Better,” he said approvingly. He slipped his buckle and belt off with ease, unbuttoning his charcoal grey slacks. Your eyes followed his hands downwards and it finally hit you just how big of a dick print was practically staring you in the face. He pulled up the once tucked in shirt tails and bunched them up around his toned stomach. Agony, his pace freeing his cock was absolute agony. His length was impressive, on the longer side of anyone you’d been with before. And his girth. It was a lot like the man himself, surprisingly thick but beautiful. The vein running along the underside of his cock made your mouth water with anticipation.

He let it out of his hand and it rested heavily on your lips.

“Please, Sir…” you said, licking your lips just enough to tease him with the sensation of your tongue. Shouto bit back a groan but nodded his head. You gave his cock an exploratory lick up the underside. A low noise rumbled in his chest, which you took as encouragement to continue. Hesitantly, you lifted a hand up to his waist and dragged your nails down his abdomen lightly, causing him to weave his fingers through your hair and grip tightly. God forbid the political Prince Charming be anything but in charge.

He guided your head up an inch or so. Holding his length in his other hand, he tapped the flushed tip against your cherry lips and you comply, parting them without a thought in your head besides Shouto’s cock. You close your mouth around his head and suck lightly, savouring the ever so slightly salty taste of his precum against your tongue. Shouto guided your head back for a better view.

He’s been watching and waiting for months, wondering what your lips would look like wrapped around him with every sharp barb that rolled off your tongue. The reality of it was better than he’d imagined. The silky wetness of your mouth just fueled his lust further. What would your sweet pussy feel like around him? Would you let him in?

His facade faltered, and he bucked his hips into you. Your throat tightened around him and your eyes watered. Something in the way he treated you ignited a fierce competition within you. If his actions were a challenge, you took it and one upped him, taking as much of him as possible. Your nose nuzzled into the base of his cock, taking in the musky scent of his sex with every breath you tried to take. Bracing yourself with your hands on his chest, you swallowed around him. Shouto shudders and his fingers leave your scalp. He pets your hair gently, and for a split second as you looked up at him with curiosity, you saw genuine fondness written across his face. Whatever prompted it, he shoved it aside and gripped your wrists together in his larger hand, pinning them against him above your head.

His movement took you by surprise. Surprises normally caused dread to pool in your tummy. This particular surprise caused arousal to bubble inside instead, it caused you to rub your thighs together as best you could for just a tiny bit, any bit of delicious friction you could get. It wasn’t enough, and you let out a half moan, half whine sound that vibrated up Shouto’s cock.

“Pretty girl’s a little slut, huh? Likes being helpless? Keep going.” he sneered at you.

You nodded as best as you could without letting off of his dick, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth. God, the absolute debauchery of what this man would have you do for him, it made your thighs clench. Desperation evident in your actions, you moan around him, moving yourself as much as your tight little skirt would allow. Shouto shuddered and took your jaw in his fine, slender hand.

“Enough,” he hissed, pulling your mouth off of his cock. His breath came in shallow pants, the only tell that he was as affected as you were. The way you licked your lips as soon as they were unoccupied made him bite back a moan. You looked fucking delicious in that moment, a summer fruit ripe for the picking.

“Up,” he commanded. You tried your best to stand up with your balance off kilter. Really, Shouto ended up pulling you to your feet more than anything else. He turned you around, advanced on you until your ass was bumping against his desk, and then he took one step further, leaving you no choice but to shimmy up onto the surface.

“Is… is this okay?” you asked, and Shouto let out a chuckle.

“You’re just asking that now? I should be asking you instead,” he said. He leaned down and latched his lips onto your neck. “Well?” he murmured into your skin, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt. “You wanna be my own little whore?”

“Yes… please, Sir,” you whimpered. That’s all he needed to hear to lift you up just enough to slide your skirt past the swell of your ass, letting it bunch up around your waist. He probed a finger along your covered slit. He stops at the wet patch over your aching core.

“Excited, are we?” he teases, moving your panties to the side and circling his finger around your hole, stopping just shy of dipping inside. “Tell me who this belongs to.”

“‘s yours, Sir. ‘s all yours, I’m all yours, belong to you, please, wanna be full,” you whined.

“That’s right, this belongs to me. I’m gonna take what’s mine,” he said. You didn’t know whether he meant your sopping wet pussy or your whole self but at that point you were ready to give him anything he asked for just for him to touch you, to make you cum. You let out a choked moan when he slid his middle finger unceremoniously into your fluttering walls, no longer clenching around nothing. Even one finger was a stretch for you. Not like he cared to let you get too used to it, he was more occupied with the idea of getting you to come undone on his hand.

He added a second finger and began rubbing your clit with his thumb. The urgent moans of his name and Sir, please careening from your lips sounded like the sweetest sonata he would ever hear.

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please, wanna… need to… please lemme cum,” you begged, head pressed forward into his chest.

“Let me cum, what?” Shouto goaded. “Just because you’re being fucked dumb doesn’t mean you get to forgo your manners. Remember your lesson?” he tutted, curling his finger into your bundle of nerves.

“Please, let me cum, Sir,” you gasped out.

“Go on, then. Cum.”

Your already tight muscles contracted around his fingers desperately as he stroked your spongy walls to your release. You came with a broken yelp, earning a look of smug satisfaction from the man looming over you.

He scissored his fingers once more, just to hear you mewl from the overstimulation of your fucked out cunt, your eyes scrunched shut to keep yourself grounded. The feeling of his messy fingers tapping at your bottom lip had you opening your mouth obediently.

“Keep it open,” he ordered. You opened your eyes to see Shouto had led you back onto your knees in front of him. His free hand fisted his cock inches from your face. You opened your mouth wider and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck…” he groaned. Just a few more thrusts and he was painting the inside of your mouth and his fingers white with his cum.

“Close,” he said, and you close your mouth. “Clean it up.”

You sucked gently on his fingers, making sure to swirl your tongue around his knuckles and his nails, wanting nothing more than to please him, to be privy to that little bit of softness and praise you were sure he hid away for special occasions.

When his fingers were free of the mixture of your releases, he slid his fingers from your mouth and took your chin in his hand. He tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Heat rose to your cheeks at his praise, and he helped you to your feet again.

No sooner than you’d rearranged your clothing came a knock to the huge walnut doors, a deep voice booming from the other side.

“Shouto?”

#shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto x you #shoto x you #torodoki x reader #shouto x yn #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #bnha #mha #notsfw

[studioxlii]

18 and Junhee pls!! Xx

"to be fully seen by somebody, then, be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous."

proof read: kinda

warnings: none

note(s): the format might be garbage, im mobile.

Love is a weird thing but so are the conditions that come with it; the limits that people decide need to be in place. You understood boundaries or not wanting to take too many steps before you knew the relationship would hold but some things never sat right with you. It took a few years but it wasn't until you overheard some of your project group talking that it finally hit you; most people you knew didn't want to date their best friends for two reasons.

1. It could ruin their friendship. This reason was obvious and of course you understood.

2. They'd seen way too much.

You remember hearing those words and your head lifting, confused and wondering what that could even mean. When you were in a relationship that would eventually progress, weren't they just going to see those things anyway? You never could let that thought go, not once you decided that would only make it better; it would make a relationship stronger. Well, in your eyes.

Dating was something that seemed to come easier to you before those thoughts started polluting your mind; no one seemed to understand or see you in a way you really wanted. The ideal person for you was someone who saw everything; the bad days, the good days and the maybe okay but not so great days. It was really starting to mess with you. By not wanting to date certain friends, were you restricting yourself from the relationship you really wanted?

Only one person, one friend, knew you better than you knew yourself, you were positive of that. Your best friend of nine years, Junhee, had probably been through almost every bad thing possible in life with you. You began recalling all the situations you'd been in with each other that were memorable; the things you wouldn't have faced with anyone else because you didn't want anyone else to see.

'Do you remember when you got your belly button pierced?'

And that's when it began.

The question came out of nowhere, breaking the silence of your apartment and leaving Junhee to look up from his book confused and blinking. 'Uh.. yes?' His response came out slow, hesitant like he was missing some weird in-between the lines meaning of the question.

Your head tilted, finally looking over at him. 'Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand to the point it was purple because it hurt so bad you nearly passed out?'

His features flushed at the ridiculous memory being forced back into his head. 'You mean the same day you had to cling to me, crying because your first tattoo felt like your leg was being seared off?'

You hated crying in front of people for any reason but you couldn't go alone; you'd never go alone for something like that. You just nodded in response before returning to your own book, continuing to read like you hadn't brought the subject up at all.

Your first date after you began recalling things and getting far too deep in what could only be sentimental thoughts went okay. A friend of your friend's, Sehyoon, who was an art major and knew of you but didn't know you; he'd never really integrated himself into the small friend circle on campus but Byeongkwan spoke highly of him.

He was sweet; a gentleman. Pretty much anything you could really ask for but you noticed little things; minute things that didn't even matter. You felt like you were being unreasonable or judgmental despite only picking out things that didn't match. Didn't match what, exactly?

He wasn't Junhee.

The realization had you suddenly shooting up from your seat, interrupting the poor male's answer to your question about his major and spilling out several apologies as you even fought to put money down for your own food. It took quite a few more 'I'm really sorry's before you were speeding out of the small restaurant; you'd make sure to call him later.

You found yourself in the only place that made sense: banging hard on the door of the RA for your building, hardly caring if you disturbed anyone else.

'What?' was the greeting you received from a very frustrated Donghun, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again. And yes, you called each other your friend.

'We have a really, really big problem.'

Being a mutual friend and despite not wanting to get involved in anyone's "drama", he spent two hours talking you out of it, down from it and against it, reminding you just why your newfound feelings for your best friend were a problem. He even reminded you of your comment, three years ago, about how you could never possibly like Junhee; how he remembered that and you didn't, you didn't care to ask.

You returned home a wreck, tired and wanting to burn your own emotions. Were you really uncovering some unconsciously buried feelings or did you just like the fact that he /saw/ you? He'd seen you nearly on your deathbed sick.

He'd seen you living in a depression nest for two weeks, barely able to get out a bed and eating nothing but honey buns and cereal.

He'd seen you grieve family members and pets; seen you walk into the rain and scream at the top of your lungs because of how lost in despair you'd been.

He'd seen you drunk and stupid; he'd seen you the night after a one night stand and hungover to the point you wanted to fight the sun.

He'd sat by you absolutely throwing your guts up.

He had seen every single side of you and you'd seen the same from him but it only started to stack further and further.

You knew his favorite songs because God forbid he only have one. You knew his favorite color, favorite food and his weird retirement plan that involved a tiny petting zoo of his own that he refused to just call a farm. Your pins for everything were each other's birthdates and he was the only other name on your bank account. Why?

Staring down at the menu you'd seen over a hundred times, you were sure, you couldn't decide on just what sounded good and part of you just wanted everything. Those moments staring at words that started to blur, you noticed Junhee hadn't touched his menu and kept shifting around, visibly uncomfortable for reasons you couldn't possible figure out.

'It's unlike you to not be going off about the food here.. or already having ordered your favorite drink that, I recall, you said you'd die without if you didn't have it every time you came here,' you began, closing the menu and setting it down with narrowed eyes, 'what's going on?'

'It's stupid. Just.. order and get some food, I'll probably just eat later. I'm not really hungry.'

That was a bold faced lie and you knew it, the concern growing. 'And, what's the oh-so-stupid reason, exactly?'

It took him a minute, shifting more and acting like a child who had gotten in trouble. 'I, uh.. I can't really..' he gestured around, lips pursed and growing even more upset by the second, you could tell by the way he was trying to stop himself from frowning. 'Can't really afford it.' You were college students, it wasn't the world's biggest secret if you couldn't afford something.

'Do you really think I'm just going to eat in front of you?' You snorted, avoiding any comment that would further his being upset over the situation, 'Don't worry about it and order, okay?'

Financial struggles were no quiet matter between the two of you and never had been since you started school. Junhee lived off campus in an apartment with two shitty roommates, a terrible part time job and parents that pretty much didn't care if he perished on the side of the street somewhere. You, on the other hand, which you didn't like bringing up, were doing fine but only because your parents dropped something of an 'allowance' into your account for foods and necessities.

You ignored his attempt to argue and told him if he didn't order something, you were going to do it for him; he shut up.

The next day, you took a trip to the bank.

You could feel eyes on you as you splayed across the couch, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life and all of it's annoyances. No question left you but even if you wanted to say something, you were cut off.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? For the past.. three weeks? You've been asking me all sorts of weird stuff,' Junhee inquired, frowning thoughtfully, 'Are you testing me or something? Trust me, yes, I remember every single second I've spent with you. I remember every word you've said, the names of every guy you've been with and the ones I'd like to fight. I remember every birthday and gift I've given you and the ones you've given me. Yes, I remember your favorite things and everything so, what's the deal?'

It sounded sentimental at first but then you noticed that all too familiar waiver in his voice and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hands fiddling with the chain bracelet that had adorned his wrist for five years; he wanted to cry. A crying Junhee was something no one ever wanted on your hands and you briefly recalled a phone call from a very panicked Byeongkwan because of just that but you were letting your thoughts get off topic.

'I think I'm in love with you.'

'If you don't want to be fri-'

You were both cut off as your head turned to finally look at him, soaking in the unreadable expression on his features when someone busted through the door; 'Look!'

Both of you looked towards your two friends that invited themselves into your door, one holding a new cat and the other looking just as pleased with the announcement but it gradually dropped. 'Shit, did we interrupt something?' Of course, you always knew when you finally and truly confessed to someone that it would be Byeongkwan who ruined the whole thing; you used it as an escape, though, reminding yourself of what the confession could do to your friendship.

'New minion, I see,' you chimed, sitting up and ignoring the question, both of them, as you rose to greet Donghun's new pet. You were ignorant to the looks shared between the three boys and you were happy about that.

Now, you just had to avoid it ever coming up again until it was forgotten.

Junhee, however, didn't want that to happen.

After about an hour of chitchatting and ignoring the gaze of your best friend, you excused yourself under the excuse of having a meetup for a class, despite it being your dorm, and managed to weasel your way out. There was really nowhere to go, no one to talk to and you surely didn't have any plans for the next week; you ended up at the café on campus. It was quiet and filled mostly with a few students doing work and the two members of staff behind the counter, one eventually joining you at the table. He didn't say anything, waited for you to stop your dramatic Disney scene and acknowledge him.

'Would you date me, Yu?'

Taken a bit off guard, he ended up snorting. 'I can't tell if this is a trap or you want the genuine answer,' he replied, crossing his arms atop the table, 'but, on the hand that it's serious.. probably. I mean, I definitely wouldn't turn you down. We've known each other for a few years, hang out on a regular basis.. get along and have a lot of similar interests. So, yeah.'

The answer made your lips draw into a deep frown and you tapped your fingers against the cup, soaking up every word. 'Even though we're friends? What if we broke up?'

A soft 'ah' came from him as he realized what was really going on and he shrugged, thinking it over for a minute or two. 'We're both adults and I don't believe either of us would do something so that the breakup would be something that could ruin our friendship. I understand it would be like.. friends then it being intimate then back to friends, but I think both of us are mature enough to deal with that and not let it bother us too much.' He spoke like he'd been through it several times and in reality, it had only been once, a small fling with a mutual friend but they still seemed pretty okay. 'Is this about Jun?'

'Does everyone know?' You groaned out, releasing the cup to lean back and rub your hands over your face in defeat, 'I.. I told him I think I love him then Kwan and Donghun showed up and I bailed because now I don't actually want to face him or admit to ever actually saying it. I do! I do love him! I don't.. I don't want to lose him, you know?'

You could see the way the latter looked at you, sympathetic and calculating what words wouldn't just stress you out further. 'Look.. I know you don't want to hear it from me or anyone else for that matter because you want to keep saying it'll ruin your friendship when in reality, you don't like the idea that you could hurt each other, I was the same way with Donghun, so I understand.. but, you should really see all this from an outsider's point of view. Junhee looks at you like you hung the moon and you look at him like he painted the stars; yes, it's been like that since I've met you and a reminder, it's been years. I don't know what took you so long to realize it or if you've just avoided it this whole time but anyone would have to be blind not to see it. Now,' he sighed deeply as he finished and straightened, 'I think you should probably go and talk to him about it considering you just confessed then ditched but it's your choice. I don't think you have anything to worry about.. for either of you. You're the most loyal person I know, so I have no doubt you'd ever hurt him in a way that would ruin you guys and he can barely swat at a fly or sit still through hearing thunder, you think he's going to do something? Regardless.. one of these days, soon, you'll have to face it and I really hope you don't go into it with the cliché reason of your friendship being ruined.'

The words sank in slow and you wanted nothing but to cry your eyes out because he was right; he always was and you hated it. It took a while for you to speak and he seemed okay with that, briefly leaving you to fill a couple orders before returning. 'I know you're leaving for break tomorrow.. tell him before then.' Those were his last words before he bid you good luck and a good night, heading back to his own dorm, most likely to call Donghun now that he'd projected just a little bit.

Irrationality was a word that would be in your character description box and the word stupid could very well be right next to it because when you got home, you packed your bag and decided to leave early, not bothering to let any of your friends know. You needed time and you were being selfish, so selfish to the point you thought maybe he'd just hate you when you got back.

Oh boy were you wrong.

Two days into being back home and confiding in your mother who promptly smacked you upside the back of the head, you found yourself sitting on the porch and moping, split between what to do. You suspected the boys were a bit angry with you when you noticed the ample amount of texts, voicemails, social messages and phone calls that had gone ignored; you caught a glimpse of the absolute book Yuchan took the time to send you, leaving you kind of scared to even open it. It didn't take long for the guilt to set in but you chose to wait until you were back on campus to deal with it.

Or at least, that was your plan.

'So, I know you've never been a fan of confrontation but.. you've never been the type to run away.'

The sudden voice startled you as you hadn't even noticed anyone pull up and of course, upon looking up, you were met with the face you were trying to avoid the most. Junhee stood at the end of the sidewalk looking pitiful and shifting his weight in a nervous manner. You didn't bother trying to speak, not knowing what to say but you did wait for the rant, the berating that you deserved; that wasn't who he was though.

He even stayed quiet for a minute or two, making his way closer to sit on the steps, looking up towards your figure. 'Did you mean it?'

You could have answered right away, poured your heart out and let out the tears you'd been holding in since the moment you left. Instead, you stayed quiet and pulled your knees closer to your chest, not trusting your own voice. He didn't relent though, reaching out to lightly nudge your knee.

'That's all I need to know.. did you mean it? If.. if you didn't I can just leave and we don't have to bother with it again.'

'And, if I did..?' Finally finding your voice, you looked over to him, chewing hard on your lower tier, nervous and kind of wanting to throw up.

You could see him thinking it over before a faint smile showed up. 'I'd most likely cry.. but I'm going to cry either way,' he began, shrugging his shoulders while moving up to sit next to you, 'I'd also tell you that I love you, too and I've been trying to tell you that for years now.'

The confession made your heart flutter, your skin burn and the butterflies being kept back burst in delight in your gut. 'Even.. after everything we've been through? Everything you've seen..?'

Junhee nodded. 'Mhm. I'd go through it all again and what do you mean? I've seen nothing but you.'

#fairieswritings #a.c.e #junhee #clicheprompts #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e reactions #a.c.e x reader #a.c.e imagines #a.c.e drabbles #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop drabbles #kpop reactions #kpop imagines

[liquorisce]

High School Years, Ch 3: aftermath.

pairing: eren x mikasa (SnK)

rating: M. (nsfw)

Summary: for eren and mikasa, love was easy; they'd loved each other forever. but physical attraction? that's a whole other story.

read on ao3 | chap 2 | chap 1

The morning after the… “confrontation”, when they walk to school, they hold hands. It's a new dimension of their ‘relationship’, and the thought of calling it that, of calling Eren her ‘boyfriend,’ is something that makes her feel so many things.

“So um,” she begins, squeezing his hand a little bit, soft pink dusting her cheeks, as he turns to look at her questioningly. “... Are we going to tell the gang?”

For the briefest moment he looks confused, but when he sees her shy expression, not spelling it out because she doesn’t know how to say it yet, his eyes widen in understanding. “Ah that you and I...,” he colours, just a little bit, because it wasn’t until the words were literally at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes he doesn’t know how to say it either.

She’d said it last night, called him her boyfriend, and it did things to him, making his heart constrict with a nervous kind of excitement. Because he was Mikasa’s boyfriend, and that was something of an honour.

But another part of him, the part that recognizes what it means for a high school kid, just finds it completely lacking, he doesn’t want to announce that he’s ‘dating’ Mikasa Ackerman, the word simply does not do it justice. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear her name in the gossip rings, from the mouths of shallow, boring girls who have little better to do than keep track of their high school reality show or from the dirty whispers of teenage boys who can’t control their hormones (if Eren is one of them, he doesn’t acknowledge it).

“... Maybe we could just keep it quiet? Just for a little while…” He watches her expressions searchingly, and she does that thing that she does, hides into her bangs when she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking and he panics, just a little.

“Hey, listen,” he stops her by the wrist, before they round the corner onto the street of their school.  “... It’s not that I want to hide it,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, because god forbid she thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything short of absolutely ecstatic, “You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes and she lets the waves of insecurity pass her by. Surely, there was nothing more to worry about. He’d made no secret of the depth of his feelings last night. “Mm-hmm.” She feels his minty breath cool on her lower lip and she reaches up to press her mouth against his. It’s tentative, the way she does it, reserved and shy but completely incomparable. It’s like everything she does, he thinks breathlessly, as he deepens the kiss. There’s no one like her.

She threads her hands into his already messed up hair, breathing harshly as she breaks away from his kiss. “I don’t mind,” she agrees, “... I think I’d like it to be just between us for a while…”

And because he’s so grateful that he’s in love with his best damn friend, who knows him and understands him like nobody else, he kisses her again… just because he can.

…

They know. He doesn’t know how they know, but they fucking know, and he mutters unhappily under his breath, “... fucking vultures, the whole lot of them.”

Armin smirks, not unsympathetically. They’d mutually decided to tell him (rather, he spotted them holding hands, and he’d almost cried in happiness), even though Eren had been somewhat sour about it, sulking when Mikasa had pointed out that they obviously needed to tell Armin. Eren was a brat, and a jealous one, especially where Mikasa was concerned, so despite having ample proof by now that the kiss between Armin and her had meant nothing, it remained a sore topic for him.

“Isn’t it easier this way? At least now you won’t have to stare down all the boys queuing up to ask for her number in the cafeteria.”

“... That’s not the point,” Eren sulks, even though he knows Armin has a point (he always does), the phenomenon he’d described was a canonical and frequent event that he actively loathes, because Mikasa was quite free with her personal details that way.

( It’s high school, Eren , she’d told him exasperatedly one day when he’d actually brought it up to her, if I don’t give them my number they’ll get it from someone else anyway. Besides, the block functionality is quite useful .)

Somehow Eren is fairly certain that knowing she was in a relationship wouldn’t be enough to deter potential suitors (/ fanboys) and as they walk towards their class, he spots the best example of this crass behaviour in none other than his horse faced friend chatting up his girlfriend, who seemed to be fairly liberal with her smiles.

Armin watches the scene from right next to him and snorts, barely able to contain his laughter. “... You’re so transparent, Eren.”

“Clearly the news hasn’t reached everyone,” he clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from the beauty and the beast, trying his best to remain civil and not scare his girlfriend away in less than 24 hours of them being, you know, together .

“This is what you wanted,” Armin reminds him, clapping his shoulder sportingly, barely able to contain his grin.

…

She tugs nervously at her hair, feeling ridiculously exposed despite the fluffy maroon scarf around her neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the events of yesterday, be it the emotional confession, or the heated kisses, or the possessive nips at her neck.

She certainly wasn’t prepared for the self consciousness that came with the marks he left on her, and had absolutely no knowledge of the make up skills required to cover it. (It hadn’t helped that it had taken Armin less than two minutes to spot the hickeys.)

But what she was least prepared for, is how almost everyone seemed to know, without her even having to open her mouth, and how they all seemed to have an opinion.

… Aw, but I was really counting on him getting back together with Krista… they were so cute…

… I wonder how long he’ll stay with this one…

… wait, Mikasa Ackerman? Aren’t they like practically siblings or something? Ewwww~

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag, or if she wanted to hide… or both.

She doesn’t hide. Because Mikasa Ackerman is a class act and despite feeling completely torn up listening to bitchy people talk about her like she does not possess hearing, she goes through the day looking outwardly untouchable.

But after trudging through the entire day of listening to absolute bullshit rumours and whispering, she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine incoming. Groaning to herself, as she takes out her notebook from her locker, she finds herself face to face with a chirpy voice that she once hated.

“... Hey,” Krista says, with a small smile. “... rough day, huh.”

Mikasa nods, it’s not that she dislikes the cute blonde in front of her (not too much, anyway), it’s just that today was not the day she wants to be visually reminded of her existence. Because watching her, in her white miniskirt and pink sweater, perfect blonde hair and her perfect smile, is reminiscent of all the days she hid in her room with only her insecurity for company.

“So um,” Krista begins, because Mikasa can be comfortable in her silence, just looking at Krista questioningly. “... Everyone’s talking about it, basically,” she blurts out, unable to help herself.

“And if you want to know whom to smack, it’s Hitch, because she says she saw you guys holding hands outside school and making out, and she snapchatted it to the whole world, because that’s what she does and,” - Mikasa’s eyes narrow and Krista takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just wanted to reach out, and you know,” she clears her throat, like it was obvious what she was doing here. Mikasa just looks blank, feels blank. “... Like, I don’t want it to be awkward or anything, between us,” Mikasa is genuinely confused at this point, because there didn’t have to be an us, between her and Krista, their social circles were comfortably distant enough to have as minimal interaction as possible. “... You seem like a great person, and honestly, I’m not even surprised you guys ended up together. It was just a matter of time, I guess.”

She smiles earnestly as she says this, and Mikasa finds herself liking the short blonde despite herself, and offers a smile back. “... Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

“And um,” Krista offers, completely casually, “... I could lend you some concealer if you wanna… you know, cover that up.”

…

“Snapchat!” Sasha wails theatrically, “... I can’t believe this is what our friendship has boiled down to.”

Mikasa has the grace to look guilty. “Explain to me, bestie ,” Sasha can be quite scary when she has her manic face on, “why, I had to receive a snap from the school’s number one hoe, informing me of the fact that my best friend had finally hooked up with her absolute thirst trap of a roommate.”

She doesn’t have much to say to defend herself, she simply slinks lower into her seat. “... I’ll buy you lunch for a week,” Mikasa whispers, defeated.

“Oh you better,” Sasha declares, still fuming. “... Snapchat, are you fucking kidding me…” She turns around once more, sizing Mikasa up deliberately. “... What about that time I walked in on you guys, in the kitchen, and he didn’t have a shirt on?” Sasha narrows her eyes accusingly. “... Were you two already…? Did you lie to me back then?”

“No! God, no,” Mikasa vaguely wonders why she sounds so defensive and apologetic about her own love life, but she remembers that Sasha is upset and for what it’s worth, she loves her like a sister, so she says, “... I swear, there was nothing between us then. It only happened, like… last night.”

Mikasa blushes as she says it, and the twinkle returns to Sasha’s brown eyes. “You must tell me everything,” she commands, and despite her sighing and blushing and giggling, Mikasa does exactly that.

...

He waits for her as they walk back from school. This is new too. Well not entirely, they’d walk back together, the three of them, Him, Mikasa and Armin, everyday in middle school, but high school had brought them different routines, and a distance that he was happy to get rid of.

“So…” he says as he slips his fingers between hers. “So much for our plan to keep it quiet.”

She burrows her head into his arm, “... everyone knew. Literally everyone.” After a minute, she adds reproachfully, “The hickeys you left on my neck didn’t help, either.”

He grins despite the glare she gives him. Embarrassing or not, he didn’t regret it one bit, not the moments that led up to those anyway... the way she’d found herself on his lap, fitting so perfectly in his arms, and against his mouth. The way she’d gasped when he’d let himself explore the sensitive skin on her neck.

He understands her situation, but god, there was no way he’d apologize for the sheer sensation he’d felt in that moment.

Tugging at her scarf to see his own handiwork, he can’t help his disappointment when he sees only a faint outline of them on her pretty skin. “... I see you’ve covered them up.”

“Ah,” Mikasa grins, “... that was your ex, actually.”

She feels him still, letting go of her hand for a brief moment. “... What?” Eren blinks nervously. They don’t really talk about his ex, not much more than they did yesterday anyway, and he wishes they’d never have to, not now that he knows perfectly well how much it had hurt Mikasa.

“You… um, spoke to her today?”

Mikasa nods, “... She came by to say hello, yeah.” And because Eren looks extremely uncomfortable at the thought, she giggles and tells him, “She says she didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Eren groans, “... this sounds like the teaser to every high school drama ever.” But despite his sarcasm, he was worried because despite Mikasa’s unassuming popularity in school, she lived her life outside of the cliques, the gossip rings, the drama… and Krista, sweet that she was, was somehow always in the thick of it.

“Don’t worry,” Mikasa says sweetly, “... if you want me to tell you that we had a catfight over you, prepare for disappointment.”

He grins in relief and asks, “... Is it so wrong to indulge in the fantasy of you fighting with another girl over me?” And because he can’t help himself, he adds, “You’d win for sure, Mikasa.”

…

As long as she can remember, Mikasa had been in love with Eren. It wasn’t complicated, or confusing for her, she’d loved him and she’d always known it.

When she was younger she had less trouble expressing it, they played together all the time, and she shared her toys with him, her sweets, and promised his mom she would take care of him when he got into trouble.

During her darkest days (after losing her parents), he would look after her, keep an eye out for her, tuck her in sometimes and sleep by her side when she had nightmares. Back then it was easier to ask for his attention - Eren could you stay with me, she remembers her 12 year old self asking, sniffling in the night, with no inhibitions, just a young girl asking for comfort from the boy she shared everything with.

(He’d given her everything she asked for graciously, fussing over her in his own way, watching over her even when she didn’t notice.)

It’s the ‘how’ that increased in complexity, the way she wanted more and more as the years went by, until the point where her love for him was a complete stranger. It was frustrating when she first realized it, when she realized she looked at him more often than usual… when she realized she wanted him to look at her too.

Growing up they’d watch movies together, and she’d often wonder about the way the hero kissed the heroine at the end of the movie, and wondered if someday Eren would kiss her like that. Most of all she wondered if Eren thought about it too.

When he started dating, that became amply clear to her - he thought of kissing, and to her unfortunate attention, it became clear that he thought of much more too. Those months were incredibly difficult for Mikasa because not only did she have to go through life like nothing had changed - ostensibly nothing had, not between them - but she had to police every indiscrete thought when he walked around after his shower without a shirt on, she had to control her gaze every time it fell on his beautiful mouth, wondering exactly what it would feel like against hers.

And for the first time in the longest time, Mikasa could no longer love Eren the way she always had, openly and without shame, she could no longer ask of him his care and attention.

But it feels like overnight so much has changed, she can barely comprehend it. Eren is so generous with his attention (his love), she wonders if the last couple of years of distance was the doing of her own imagination.

He is so free with his touches, sometimes gentle on her waist, sometimes tender on her face, sometimes rough in her hair (this excites her most of all). She no longer has to wonder if he’d ever kiss her like in the movies, he kisses whenever he damn pleases, and it always, always takes her by surprise. And it is so much better than she has ever imagined.

…

He saunters in as she prepares the tofu carefully, and because Mikasa is a perfectionist in everything she does, she’s concentrating completely on flipping each piece at the perfect moment when they turn golden brown.

But because Eren finds literally everything she does impossibly cute, he wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her gleefully on the cheek. It has the desired effect, she gasps, dropping her fork, and he catches her in an open mouthed kiss.

He manages to distract her for a good couple of minutes until she smells the tofu becoming decidedly darker than golden brown. “Erennn,” she whines, “... my tofu is ruined!”

“I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful,” he says because she’s an excellent cook, but also because he’s slightly affronted that by the way she pulls away in complaint.

“Please. Go sit,” she swats him away, making him pout adorably. He does as he is told and waits till she plates the food minutes later, and he’s pleased to say that he was absolutely right, it did taste wonderful.

But he’s more eager to eat up as soon as possible and finish what he tried to start a few moments ago.

“What are you going to do after dinner?” The answer he wants to hear is I’d like to make out with my boyfriend , but just as he expected, Mikasa’s mind is on a slightly different wavelength.

“... Hmm,” she eyes him suspiciously, “... I guess I’ll finish cleaning up and read the latest chapter in English Lit before bed, and just drift off to sleep. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he states innocently. “... I’ll help you clean up.”

He changes the topic before they have a chance to linger, and does good on his promise to clean up as fast as he can. It’s ridiculous the way he’s acting, and he doesn’t understand it himself, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t seem to stop looking at her, can’t seem to stop craving her, whether it’s the closeness of her body or the taste of her lips, and he’s pretty certain the way he’s acting right now is downright embarrassing, but somehow since its with Mikasa, he feels emboldened.

Or at least that’s how he’d felt until recently. Of late there’s been just the slightest amount of doubt that’s crept in. He finds himself wondering if it’s just him who feels this way, this inexplicable urge, and he wishes that she’d be the one reaching for him more often.

“Thanks, Eren,” she murmurs, breaking him out of his intense internal monologue, when she reaches over and brushes a chaste kiss on his cheek. It warms him instantly, immediately making him want more.

He dries up and follows her out of the kitchen, and as she turns into her room, he grabs her wrist and says, “... Mikasa, wait,” and when she flips her head to look at him, he nestles her against the wall and whispers, “... I just wanted to say goodnight,” before kissing her full on the mouth.

For all that he internally complains about her not initiating their kisses enough, she responds beautifully to him, opening her mouth to him, and slipping her tongue inside, gasping when his fingers slip under her shirt, brushing softly above her ribcage. She slides one hand around his neck and the other clutches his shirt, pulling him so close to her, he revels in the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

He doesn’t even know how, or why, because he isn’t thinking when he’s kissing Mikasa, just going with it, running on the sheer feeling of it all, because he just gives into her - but she’s got both arms around his neck and he’s pressing her so firmly against the wall, tongue shameless in its exploration of her mouth, he slips one of his legs between hers.

She likes it, likes the pressure between her legs and she finds herself moving against him, grinding almost, embarrassingly, and she doesn’t even register consciously, until she feels him hard and pressed up against her thigh. She makes an embarrassing noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly his eyes snap open, all too conscious of their position.

She feels him twitch against her, and she can barely breathe with the excitement of it all, the newness… the feeling. He looks at her like a different person, green eyes heady and searching, holding her in a heated gaze. But in the most crushingly confusing move, he steps back and whispers “good night,” before turning towards his own room.

Quite frankly, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Any more of that and she would’ve melted into jelly all over the leg that was between her thighs. And instead of pursuing that intense, boneless feeling, she finds herself catching her breath alone in the hallway with a confoundingly novel ache between her legs.

…

He watches her at the tennis court the next day; he drags Armin with him.

He’s never cared much for the game itself, only knows the basic rules because Mikasa’s been playing for years. She has a practice match today, against Jean, and he’d claimed he’d only wanted to see ‘his girl’ crush that horse face to the ground.

But the more he sits next to Eren, the more Armin feels decidedly uncomfortable. “Oi, Eren,” he says, when he’s fairly certain he’s had enough. Eren looks at him annoyed for being distracted from the game. “... What?”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, because how does he say this politely? “... You’re staring.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! You’re literally ogling her,” he hisses under his breath, “... it’s embarrassing, so please stop.”

He feels his face burn as he splutters, “I, I’m just watching the-,” he’s quite literally red by this point, “... Armin, what the fuck?” He just wants to hide, and so he hides his face in his hands.

He was right, he was staring, and he knew this because his mind had memorized the way she looked in that outfit, white tank top low cut and body hugging and giving him an excellent view as she moved. And he didn’t even want to comment on the way those shorts hugged her curves and how it flowed perfectly into her long, glorious legs.

If he could kick himself he would.

“What’s going on with you?” Armin asks, after he gives Eren a moment to recover from absolute mortification. Hesitating, he says, “... This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at her like this recently.”

He looks at Armin helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “You can talk to me,” Armin coaxes him, “... you do embarrassing shit in front of me all the time anyway,” he supplies helpfully.

There’s conflict in his green eyes as he considers just how to say it, if he wants to at all. He’s still not a hundred per cent over the fact that Armin was Mikasa’s first kiss and if anyone could hold a (pointless) grudge it was Eren.

“However if you still choose to not talk to me about Mikasa because you are hung up over a stupid drunk kiss, then that’s completely fine with me too,” Armin says, reading Eren’s mind cheerfully.

“... You didn’t have to bring it up,” he says sullenly. Armin rolls his eyes. “... You’re thinking about it anyway, so I might as well talk about it.” He’s known him far too long to not understand the very simplistic nature of Eren’s thought processes.

“... I can’t stop looking at her,” he confesses, deciding to gloss over the discomfort of their kiss and focus on the main problem instead. “I hadn’t noticed,” Armin quips dryly, and Eren glares at him - so much for ‘ You can talk to me, Eren.’

“I’m losing my mind here, Armin,” trust Eren to always be dramatic, without fail, “... You can make fun of me all you want, but everytime I look at her, I,” he inhales sharply. “... God, I feel disgusting. It’s Mikasa for fuck’s sake.”

And It’s Mikasa whom his friend had always been slightly unhinged for, but Armin thinks better of saying this.

“... I feel like I just don't know how to look at her respectfully anymore,” and he says

this almost choked, so distressed, that Armin tries very very hard to suppress a laugh.

…

She wishes she hadn’t done it.

In a rare moment of weakness that she now regrets, she had given into Sasha’s ever curious inquisitions into her love life. And by love life here, Sasha was explicitly digging for the good stuff.

“Eh?!?”

Mikasa waits patiently for Sasha to return from her high pitched look of disbelief.

“... What do you mean you haven’t slept together yet?” Sasha asks, a bit calmer this time, but still urgently distressed about the matter.

“We just… haven’t,” Mikasa explains rather unsatisfyingly.

“So… do you like, want to wait or something? I thought you’ve been in love with him since forever…”

No matter how much she’s accepted that fact herself, it still makes her blush when she hears it out loud. “... It’s not like, I want to, um, wait or anything,” she confesses. Because she’s found herself thinking of the same thing every night since the time Eren had her against the wall, pinned against him and his hardness. It’s almost like it created a monster out of her, a monstrous desire that has her eyeing him out the corner of her eye whenever she gets the chance. It makes her seek him out more often, seek him out after his workout, after his shower, innocently, by accident of course, and she’s ashamed of herself.

“... You just need to jump him,” Sasha says, with the utmost seriousness. Like she knew anything at all on this subject. “And boy have I got the perfect thing to help you.”

…

Mikasa Ackerman is a huge fan of Marie Kondo. It was one of the curiously annoying yet cute things about her that Eren has an impressively large list of.

She’s watched the Netflix show more times than he can count, follows her on Youtube, and once he’d seen her pray to her room or some shit before she started cleaning. It mystifies him, and he doesn’t care enough to understand more so he just goes along with it.

Today she’s decided she has way too many clothes and she will only keep what “sparks joy” in her, so she’s strewn out her entire closet and demanded in the sweetest way that he helps her with her mission.

(She throws in the offer of trying out all her outfits before she throws them out, and Eren is horny for a fashion show or the moments in between so he readily agrees)

“... I’m not sure about this one,” she says, eyeing herself in the green dress critically.

Eren’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “... You’re kidding, you look like a fucking goddess, Mikasa.”

She blushes happily with the compliment, but Eren isn’t exaggerating. It’s a slinky strapless number which was incredibly short. And it had a slit. According to Eren, the slit could not be emphasized enough.

“... Your legs look incredible,” he says, providing her the only decent compliment he can muster. The rest he does his best to convey with eyes.

“... It just doesn’t feel like something I wear usually, you know… so I don’t know if it sparks joy...”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, you should wear it. C’mere let me help you spark some joy,” he says, playfully pulling her down into the pile of clothes that made a poofy bed on the floor.

She giggles, settling over him happily, and for a moment his sappy little heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure her giggle is his most favourite sound in the whole world.

“... You’re insane,” he breathes, relishing in the way she feels on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs and resting just beneath the hem of her dress (just beneath her ass). She kisses him sweetly, tongue flicking gently on his lip and making him groan softly. His hands brush past her ass, caressing ever so softly as they come to rest on the small of her back.

She deepens the kiss, and he grabs her hips roughly, angling her mouth onto his in a way that suits him, gives him access and he sighs into her mouth. The view of her on top of him, is unparalleled, her thighs around his hips and her chest heaving temptingly with her harsh breathing. He closes his eyes and captures her mouth again before he makes a fool of himself in front of her again.

But she has her hands in his hair, and she’s pressing down, grinding down against his crotch, and he can feel himself pulse at every brush of contact, and he groans knowing fully well that there’s no way she can’t feel his length brush against her legs.

He doesn’t want to stop, or run away, because he’s ridiculously turned on at this point, and unwilling to let go of her, so he simply turns her around and pins her beneath him, taking advantage of the way she squeals, to slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her.

It’s so tempting having her beneath him like this, so he gives in and slips his leg between hers again, eager to have her rub against him like she did that day, with the faintest hint of a moan, like he hasn’t been able to forget.

His fingers entwine with hers and he stretches them above her head, wanting so much to just kiss her senseless, but they collide with a cardboard box and he spares a glance at it, in annoyance.

Until he squints and actually sees what it is. The label alone makes him blush, not to mention the contents that he could clearly see under the transparent plastic covering.

Mikasa looks up, dazed and a little bit disoriented from what was possibly the most intense make out session she had ever experienced. “... Eren?”

“Babe,” he rasps, choked, “... are you trying to tell me something?”

She follows his line of sight, and wants to hide, wants to die, wants to erase this moment from her very existence.

Her Sensual Pleasure kit, he reads, his mind effectively going numb as he comprehends the contents: a vibrator, a blindfold, some pink fuzzy handcuffs and what looks like a generous bottle of lube.

Somehow even though she forgot about this ridiculous thing, having stuffed it into her closet to forget all about the ridiculousness on her friend’s face when she gave it to her, it seems to have stumbled out into the light of day at the worst possible moment.

If she could murder Sasha and get away with it, she would.

“... I-It’s not what you think, Eren,” she mumbles, cheeks red and panicking, even though she has absolutely no idea what she wants him to think.

“I assure you,” he manages, “... I’m not really thinking right now, Mikasa.” Sure enough his mind had somewhat short circuited, barely able to handle the pressure of having his extremely sexy girlfriend beneath him and somehow simultaneously having discovered what appeared to be her sextoys .

Gingerly, he reaches for it, and he almost gasps, because the box had been opened and fiddled with. “Did you actually…”

He looks at her face, and it’s the colour of a tomato by this point, teeth biting her lower lip nervously, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or if he is even more turned on.

“The vibrator, Mikasa, did you…?” His voice is so hoarse just imagining, it superseded any fantasies he’s had up until this point. “... Eren,” she whines, embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Please for the love of god, Mikasa, please just tell me, baby,” he’s pleading because he really needs to know at this point. He needs to know if he’s been going to bed in the room besides her without the potent knowledge that she’s been using this to relieve herself at night.

When she nods, just ever so imperceptibly, he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust. “... What did you think of when you were using it?” His voice sounds like a stranger’s.

She looks conflicted, looks unbelievably embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when he hears the faintest whisper from her saying, “... you.”

But that isn’t going to cut it, because he’s spent countless nights with a raging boner and raging guilt, as he jerked off to the most tantalizing moments he’s had with her… and he barely ever manages to look her in the eye the next morning. So he has to, no, he needs to know that he hasn’t been the only one in this absolutely ridiculous situation.

He kisses her hard, teeth grazing hers, mouth eager and greedy, and she responds to him with equal fervour. His head drops to her shoulder as he kisses her bare collarbone. “... If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same again.”

His words are a deep, throaty confession that he whispers on her skin, and it brings a tingle down to her spine and all the way to her toes. She thrusts her chest upwards against him subconsciously.

“... I think of you too, you know… all the time,” she confesses, forgetting the very meaning of inhibition. It’s hard to remember it when he looks at her that way, heat burning from his verdant eyes, his grip firm against her hips. She doesn’t want to; doesn’t need it, if it means she can be this close to him.

“... Do you think you can show me?” he whispers, barely thinking through his requests through his lust-filled haze.

He sees her hesitating, contemplating, and he finds himself praying as his fingers inch up the dress and dig into the curves of her ass, lips delicate against the tops of her breasts.

“Only if you show me how you touch yourself,” she murmurs, and he can feel himself twitch in excitement.

She backs up against her bedpost and slips out of her panties, and Eren is absolutely, positively certain, he has never seen anything more appealing than when she slowly, deliberately, hikes up that beautiful green dress and spreads her legs.

He’s so lost in the sight before him, he forgets what he’s promised until she says, steel eyes determined, challenging him almost, “... your turn, Eren.”

He shucks his pants off gracelessly, he couldn’t make it look as artful as she does even if he tried, but he’s happy to be free of the restrictive material as he springs heavy and erect at the sight of her. “... Could you um, pass me the lube,” he asks, and she does, but not before squeezing some onto her own hand.

It’s hypnotic how she rubs it into herself, wet, and pretty and pink, and he jerks into his hand, slick and wanting, as he whispers, “... God, you’re beautiful.”

His words only serve to enhance the needy pressure between her legs, the tingling feeling that her slow circular motions were only making worse. She picks up the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it to her nub, the way she’s done a few lonely nights by herself, wishing it was him against her skin.

It’s different this time, because even though it’s her and the silicone toy, Eren’s gaze is like liquid fire on her skin, dark and licentious, and almost greedy. She throws her head back, shivering with pleasure and gasping.

“... What did you think of when you played with yourself?” He asks again, and this time she knows he wants a more specific answer.

“Your fingers,” she mumbles, and she finds the pleasure makes her startlingly more honest. He could ask anything of her, and she would tell him.

The idea, the thought of it, makes him twitch happily in his hand, and he jerks erratically, feeling an unbelievable urge come over him. “... Did you get wet thinking of my fingers on you, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, blushing prettily, high off the vibrating sensations. Without planning to, he crawls over between her legs and kisses her deeply, murmuring on her lips, “... then let me touch you, baby.”

It was her who was being stimulated, but he nearly groans into her hair at the feeling of her soft wetness, the way it feels against his fingers, the way her arousal coats him so eagerly.

“... I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing delicate circles across her nub, diligently favouring the area she had favoured mere moments ago. “Then why didn’t you,” she gasps at the last syllable, at the sudden intrusion of his long finger having slid deep inside her.

“... Sorry,” he says, sounding far too turned on to be sorry, “... you’re so wet, Mikasa.” He’s in awe, almost reverent of how warm she is, how easy.

She hangs on to his neck now, teeth grazing his neck, whispering, “... I want you, Eren.” Her breath is warm and damp and he’s unmistakably certain of what she asks.

“... Are you sure?” He asks, panting, hoping to god she’s sure, because he’s so ready, he’s been ready for a long time now, and he can barely control himself from leaking onto his own hand, when she says, “Yes.”

He makes sure she’s comfortable, or as comfortable as she can be on top of her clothes, and he commits everything to memory, the way she looks beneath him, the way her breasts heave when he pulls off the entirety of that dress, the way her nipples stiffen against his warm kisses. “... Please,” she whimpers, when he takes his time with her, taking the peaks of her breasts into her mouth and teasing ever so slightly with his teeth.

“... I can’t help it,” he rasps, “I want to touch you everywhere, you’re so pretty, babe, I,” -

He chokes, cut off, by the feeling of her delicate hands circling around him, pumping slowly as she guides him to her entrance. “Shit, Mikasa,” he curses, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of her warmth against his tip.

It’s not his first time, but he feels like a stumbling virgin, murmuring desperate things as he feels her sheathe him completely, pausing only to pay attention to her comfort. Barely coherent, he asks, “... you okay?” She nods quietly, and his eyebrows furrow, looking at her questioningly. “Feels… so full,” she manages, with a feeble groan, and he can’t help but grin at how irresistible she is.

“... That’s because I’m supposed to fill you up, babe,” he whispers, not caring how far gone he is, because he slides out just a little only to spread her legs for him again, and slide back in. He tests the rhythm carefully, watching her expressions for any sign of discomfort, but the way she squeezes her eyes, the way she throws her head back with a gasp, just makes him lose whatever little control he had.

“Please tell me if I need to go slower,” he tells her, but judging from her reaction, from her moans, she only seemed to be egging him on.

It’s too much, he thinks, too much for him to possibly handle, not with the way she bucks her hips, and definitely not with the way she clenches needily around him.

And in a moment that he’ll probably never live down, he groans, “Fuck, babe, I’m going to,” - barely realizing with some consciousness to pull out of her tight, wet, core, and spills onto her stomach.

Mikasa’s never seen him make a face like that.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him in wonder. And he’s looking at the mess he’s made on her stomach, and even though a small part of him only feels arousal at the sight of that, today he just feels like a massive asshole. “Shit,” he curses, not happy with how this played out at all. He reaches for the panties she’d so easily discarded and mops up his sticky release, mumbling, “... God, I’m so sorry, Mikasa. This was your first time, I can’t even believe,” -

“Eren,” she interrupts, because she doesn’t have time for this, his self-derision can come later. “... I, um…,” she clenches her thighs together, and he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t yet completely fucked shit up, he could still make her feel good, and that’s all he wanted.

He settles himself between her legs and spreads her folds open for him, feeling a familiar twitch at the pretty sigh in front of him. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispers earnestly, before she feels his mouth on her folds. He kisses her like how he kisses her lips, like he wants to consume her, and if she thought it felt good against her own mouth, it felt only a million times better down there. He’s generous with his tongue, probing circling, sending her into a frenzy that only he could have managed.

She threads her fingers into his hair, gasping his name, prettily, holding on to him as she rides wave after wave of pleasure against his tongue.

When he lifts himself up and looks at her, he grins, his mouth shining because of her juices, and she closes her eyes swearing to herself that she will never forget that sight.

He collapses next to her, this time of a happier countenance because somewhere in his mind he’s judged this to be a fair exchange, and because Mikasa knows him so well, she can’t help but giggle.

“I’m not usually like this,” he asserts, once he’s caught his breath, and she’s barely managed to catch hers. She raises an eyebrow at him, amused. Trust Eren to be bothered about the unnecessary mechanics of his ego, barely minutes after their first time. “... I swear, next time I’m not going to let you go unless you have at least three orgasms. Minimum.”

“I guess I’ll have to hold you to it, Eren,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And before you freak out about the other thing; I’m on birth control, so don’t worry.” There’s silence, remarkably guilty silence, because he hadn’t thought about it, and that’s ridiculous because he’d never done it without a condom before, and if he ever feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, it’s at this moment.

“... I fucking love you, Mikasa,” he says sincerely, thanking the gods and this insane goddess right beside him, and this time she can’t help but laugh out loud.

a/n: edit: two whole weeks after posting ao3, i finally got around to putting this on tumblr.

to all those who have been on this journey with me, thank you so much. it's been so fun with these guys in the hsy verse.

i can't believe the story is over; i'm not ready to let go. going forward i may or may not right 3 more chapters each focusing on armin, historia, and jean respectively. i'm still mulling over it :)

i've recently been made aware that some people who read my stories are minors and i should be more mindful. so the note below -

i'd just like to clarify that it's fairly normal to be 18 yo in senior year of high school (at least where i'm from), which is when this last chapter takes place, so i did not feel the need to write age anywhere. i just want to clarify this; im no one to lecture any body on the appropriate age to be sexually active - as long as the person who you're with treats you respectfully and honours your consent. and respect your own limits and body.

HOWEVER I WILL ABSOLUTELY TAKE THIS MOMENT TO LECTURE YOU ON THE USE OF BIRTH CONTROL - PLEASE USE CONDOMS. please discuss birth control or std prevention with a sexual partner. DO NOT BE LIKE EREN AND FORGET JEEZUS. i'm 27 when i'm writing this so the last scene was just meant to be funny, especially his unbelievable sigh of relief when he finds out she had the foresight to be careful.

anyway, see ya and if it might interest you pls check out my mikasa stripper au ;) i'm very excited about it.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eremika smut #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #high school years

[fascination-street-writing]

Once You Loved Her - Now You’ve Lost Her | Yan!Pannacotta Fugo x F!Reader

Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young. As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

For skully-greg: Who suggested an angsty piece featuring Pannacotta Fugo

Content Warnings: Not S/F/W Content, Yandere Behaviors, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Non-Con, Past Underage Relationship, & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

It is raining again.

Pannacotta Fugo sighs, releasing the breath that he has held in for far too long. He does not bother to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. The soles of his shoes are already ruined. In the distance, the clock tower chimes as morning turns to noon. Church bells ring – the sounding of a wedding, no doubt. Though, it is a particularly dreary day for one.

He can see it all. An ivory lace gown and a black silk tuxedo. Baby’s-breath and roses. Candles on the altars. Matrimony – everything he might have had if life was more forgiving. Alas, his stomach curls at the thought, and so he forces his mind elsewhere. First, to the file tucked beneath his arm, which he must deliver to Don Giovanna before the day ends. Then, to the faint rumbling in his belly that reminds him of his promise to get tea with Sheila; never mind the matter wherein there is another woman whom he would much rather divulge in menial conversations with, over two saucers of earl grey.

It is you he has lost.

He passes the boutiques that you had so many times begged him to accompany you to. He never said yes, because he always felt that there were far more important things to do than to waste money on clothing (it simply reminds him too much of his parents, always so preoccupied with appearances) – and so you went alone. A street vendor selling elaborate bouquets hoists a tarp over his stall to protect his wares from the unrelenting storm. Fugo had once thought to buy you flowers – he refrained, as he knew they would die within the week.

A head of hair the color of yours catches his attention. He stops.

Through the display window of L’Abito di Fiori, he watches, helpless, as you lift a dress shirt made of pressed cotton to the torso of Guido Mista. The hanger dangles from your grasp as you gauge the shirt’s sizing to his body – and his eyes fall to your face, taking in the expression of determination that sweeps your brow. Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young.

As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

You bat away the dress shirt and offer Mista another; one that is slimmer and formfitting. Fugo has almost forgotten the occasion. It is an occasion indeed, as in no other circumstance might Mista give quite so much care about his uniform: Don Giovanna’s compleanno gala is nearly upon you all.

You say something to Mista that is unintelligible to Fugo, though by the way the chocolate-brown eyed man smiles, he knows it is nothing good. The long-forgotten, youthful rage within him has become an acquaintance as of late – a rekindling of something that ought to have gone away. The file snaps in his grasp. Pages upon pages of the report that took him a month to compose and organize scatter amongst the puddles.

Fugo stares at the ruin and sighs. Fishing his cellphone out from his pocket, he dials Don Giovanna’s number. Tea with Sheila will have to wait - not that he minds.

“Buon pomeriggio, Fugo,” the young Don speaks. Years of strain weigh heavily on his tone. “I was just about to call you – Monsieur Polnareff is getting impatient waiting for your report. How soon can you be here?”

“Ah, about that, Giorno. Mie scuse, but there’s been an incident . . .”

Il Libeccio is quiet, though perhaps since it is far too early in the day to be patronized. You and Fugo peer over the menu, as if something new might strike your fancy. In all honesty, you have committed it to memory; still, it makes for a good way to pass the time. Unreciprocated teasing glances are thrown his way. Unreciprocated, that is, until he grins only slightly – enough to be noticed by you before the corners of his lips fall.

You are glad that none of the others are here yet. Your moments with Fugo have always been cut far too short. First as children, when he would be ushered off to his studies and you to assist your mother in her duties around his parents’ estate. Now as two teenagers pulled apart by tasks assigned from Bucciarati.

If not for Fugo, you never would have joined Passione. Though from opposite ends of the social hierarchy, it was you who kept him grounded amidst the berating and the abuse – and the same can be said of him regarding you. Trauma is indiscriminatory, and it has an interesting way of bringing two thwarted souls together. Even after everything he had endured, his thoughts were of you. Following his expulsion from the university, he came back for you. With nothing to lose, and an optimistic inkling of something to gain, you joined him.

He took you from one life and gave you another. And for that, you will always be indebted to him.

“Have you two decided?” the waitress asks. “Or perhaps a bit longer?”

She clicks the pen in her hand. Fugo does not recognize her, and he realizes she must be new. Otherwise, she would know better than to inquire before the others have even arrived. “A few more minutes, please,” he says. “Grazie."

She obliges and leaves. You place a hand over your stomach, contemplating your options. “Fugo?” He raises an eyebrow and glances in your direction. “Will you share some cake with me?”

“Maybe. What flavor?”

He is not one to spoil his appetite with sweets; however, he might indulge for you. In truth, there is not much would not do at your behest; even as a boy, he has always loved you. You hum to yourself, dragging your finger down the dessert menu. He swallows the lump in his throat. A knowing smirk graces your face as you give him your answer.

“Strawberry.”

The banquet hall has been done up rather nicely. Round tables draped with white-satin tablecloths dot the perimeter of the room, each set with six chairs and a bouquet of lilies. The hired musicians – comprised of the most desirable instrumentalists in Napoli – play a lively little jazz tune. The caterer bores over the display of desserts, ensuring that not a single plate has been moved out of line.

Seated together, Mista lifts a forkful of strawberry dolce to your mouth. It hits your tongue and melts like sugar. Don Giovanna has spared no expense in preparing his gala, and the cake is no exception. You look far too elegant, wearing that beaded sheath dress while clasping a champagne flute betwixt manicured fingers. Your mulberry lipstick stains the rim like a kiss. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight. Mista knows this, as do the men who pass you by and let their gazes’ wander.

And so does Fugo.

“If you squeeze your glass any tighter, it’ll snap in half. God forbid you’ll hurt yourself. I’d rather not end my night with taking you to the hospital.”

He eases the grip on his goblet. The color rushes back to his knuckles. Trish sips her champagne beside him, oblivious to the fury boiling within him, but not his envy. “You can be bitter every other night of the year. Don’t be tonight. It’s Giorno’s birthday, and we spent too much money on this damned party. Please, don’t cause a scene or do anything stupid. I’m begging you, Fugo.”

He bites back a scoff, never taking his eyes off you. “I’m not ‘causing a scene,’” he insists.

Trish frowns. “No, but you’re about to. Judging by the way you were practically strangling that poor cup, I know you’re only seconds away from throttling Mista.”

“I have every right to be upset,” Fugo tells the pink-haired woman.

“No, you really don’t,” she retorts. “You should be glad she moved on. Be happy that she’s happy.”

A bit of icing sticks to your lip. Mista swipes it away with his thumb before pressing his mouth to yours for a quick kiss. To Fugo, it is a nauseating sight. “You don’t think I haven’t tried?” he demands. “It’s been absolute agony this entire time. I still love her – so much that I hate her. She’s a reminder of everything I’ve done wrong.”

“You need try harder. It’s been four years. You’re going to ruin yourself at this point.” As if he has not already. “Listen, Fugo. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. Mista’s planning on proposing to her soon. He already bought a ring. You should make things right between you and [Y/N]; don’t spend the rest of your life resenting your best friend for marrying your ex. After all, maybe this can be an incentive to get over yourself and grow up.”

With that, Trish collects her belongings and departs, leaving an emptied champagne flute as a marker of where she once sat. He hardly notices her absense; he has grown numb. Marriage. An ivory gown for you and a silk tuxedo for Mista. Baby’s breath in a bouquet and a single rose in a boutonniere for Mista. Candles on the altars lit for Mista.

Fugo recoils. The thought of you marrying anyone other than himself is a death sentence. Mista stands, having been beckoned by Don Giovanna, depriving you of a companion. There is stock in Trish’s advice – but it takes courage to follow through.

You practically ignore him when he claims Mista’s vacated seat. You refuse to meet his violet stare; the band is far more interesting, anyways. Softly, he speaks your name. “How are you?” he asks.

“Good,” you answer, short. “Perfect.”

He awaits the refrain, yet you utter nothing else. And so, he tries again. “It doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

“I was, before you sat down.”

Your words sting, as if you have pierced him through the heart with a wicked blade.

“You look beautiful.” You roll your brilliant eyes. If not for Don Giovanna’s sake, you might have thrown the remainder of your drink in Fugo’s handsome face. You will settle for audaciousness instead. That is, until his fingers coil around your wrist so tight the bones may snap. He hoists you from the chair, and with little regard to your protesting – deaf to the guests who can hear nothing over the sound of jazz –, he leads you from the banquet hall. Your refusal to reciprocate the conversation would have swayed any man from pursuing you. Any man, except Fugo.

Your bed has been made, and now you must lie in it.

Your back meets the wall of the closet. Fugo braces you with his own hand, warding off the wood’s bite. The unoccupied fingers of his opposite hand reach for the hardened nub between your folds, toying you open. He feels your core tighten around his shaft and an airy moan escapes you.

It is too hot, but neither of you seem to mind it very much.

With each aching thrust, he throbs in you. You bounce against him, held up by his body that pins you in place. The hand on your back trails up to the base of your spine, threading in your hair and jerking your head away. You tingle at his bluntness. Encouraged by it, you reach for his neck and pull his face down to yours, claiming his mouth with your own.

It is sweeter than he ever imagined. Your teeth graze his plump lip. He groans as you slide your tongue in his mouth, battling for dominance. Though, as accosted by the uncomfortable angle that your head has been bent to, you have no other choice than to surrender. Incited by his little victory, Fugo relinquishes his hold and pulls out, leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whine, practically keening for his touch.

He turns you around until your chest hits the wall. His manhood, stiff and slick with your wetness, teases the crest of your behind – and he enters you again, swiftly, full of unspent energy that propels your forward. Your palms smack the surface before you, desperate for something to cling onto. You settle for the mounted coatrack. Fugo’s fingers latch onto your hips with such ferocity that bruises will be sure to form in the coming days.

Purple will look good on you, he decides, and so he grips even harder. You cry out, struggling to meet his pace. Excited, nonetheless.

“Strawberry cake, huh?” he asks between soft grunts, his voice husky.

You laugh, breathless. “I thought it might rile you up,” you tell him, confessing your intention. “I took a gamble, and it paid off.”

“It did, cara.”

He is content that you had been the one to make the first move – because he could never find the gull to do it himself. To have you writhing in ecstasy at his touch is a reverie personified and more; a newfound warmth and comfort, only for him.

The doorknob shakes. Despite Fugo’s strawberry-patterned tie fastened to the overhead rack from the handle, which acts as a makeshift barricade, you panic and push off the wall, bucking into his torso.

“P-Panni –” you whisper. He thrusts deeper, eliciting a pleasant noise from you. “We have to stop. Someone’ll hear us.”

He urges you back into place. You cry out again when he hits your sensitive depths, but he is quick to stifle your pandemonium by placing his hand over your mouth; it is dampened, clammy with sweat, just like the rest of your body and his. “You have to be quiet,” he croons in your ear. You shiver and grind against the fullness between your legs. “Can you do that for me, bella? Starai tranquilla per me?”

You nod. Fugo feeds on your eagerness, picking up his pace. Unable to contain his own moans, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intimacy-induced musk. It is intoxicating. Not long after, you surrender to the coil in your belly – you reach your limit and come undone. Exhausted, you slump onto his torso. His hand falls from your mouth, moving to grasp the mounds of your chest.

With one last cry, he finishes, coating your walls with his release. He traces the crook of your cheek and kisses you twice more. Relationships between members of Passione are dangerous – affection is vulnerability. And yet, Fugo would give everything away to be vulnerable for you; a promise amongst many that he will not keep. In the moment, however, it makes for a pretty sentiment.

Shades of greens and violets dance throughout your vision. Content, you flash him a tired smile.

“Before we go back out, there’s something I should tell you,” you begin. “I love you, Panni. I always have.”

His heart blooms. Of course, deep down, he already knew. 

You collapse to the ground in a heap of fabric that once resembled a gown, yours knees skinning against the floors. Sore, used, and broken. The beads of the intricate embroidery scatter from being torn away in Fugo’s mood. An uncomfortable stickiness coats your inner thighs. Sobbing, you clutch the remnants of your dress, shielding yourself from the man who violated you so.

From the man whom you once adored like the moon amongst stars.

He readjusts the zipper to his trousers. Painfully, your legs vibrate. Otherwise, you might stand on your own. Noticing this, he extends his hand to you, expecting you to accept it so as to pull you to your feet. Incredulous, you smack him away, pushing yourself further adrift despite the dissent of your limbs. You have been set ablaze from the inside out.

“Get away from me,” you demand. There is not enough space on earth to satisfy your longing to distance your being and his. For a moment, you think you have hurt him – and irks you to do it again. “Ti odio, Fugo. I hate you more than anything else. Do you understand me? I hate you!”

He winces, struck by your venom; still, he holds his hand out. You would rather cast yourself from the nearest balcony than to welcome his help. His fleeting patience diminishes – before you may throw another jab his way, he has pulled you to stand, his hands nestled too tightly around your biceps. You manage to wrench yourself free and lash out. Your palm meets his face in a hurried slap. He staggers backwards, relinquishing his grip. At first, he feels nothing.

And then, pinpricks.

“[Y/N], I –”

“Save your apology for someone who cares.”

The door slams behind you. He listens until he can no longer hear the hurried sounds of your heels clacking off the marble floors. You are gone, again – to Mista or whoever else is to blame for Fugo’s loneliness. Sighing heavily, he turns to the mirror above the vanity.

He remembers a time, at the age of sixteen, when he was far too afraid of mirrors, because he never cared for the man who stared back at him. A day in Pompeii; you were so fearful for his wellbeing that you nearly fainted when he came back, bloodied and worn down.

The red handprint upon his face is nothing more than a mockery among many others to his character. He finds the object nearest to his reach: a silver drinking carafe that has been used as a vase for roses beside a candle with a smoldered wick atop a cherry-wood nightstand. Thrown from his fingers, the carafe shatters the mirror. A web of faces in mimicry of his own screams in anguish.

In his rage, he sees not red, but purple. Violent purple and harlequin motifs. Tears form in his eyes – though, to be honest, for all his time spent in utter bitterness, he has forgotten what pure unadulterated regret feels like.

It feels like it is raining again.

| 3008 Words |

#pannacotta fugo x reader #fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader #vento aureo #yandere

[toukenramblings]

NSFW Headcanons: Buzen Gou, Matsui Gou, Samidare Gou

A continuation of these headcanons I made, but nsfw, fufufufu (^ω~) 

Warnings: NSFW, ALL OF DAT SHIT IS NSFW

Buzen Gou

Remember when i said that Buzen’s legs are nice? OH     dude this man is BUILT. He has slightly above average build (not like     Tonborkiri for example) but it’s obvious he has muscle on him. And he     adores showing it off to you and you alone!!! Can and will take off his     shirt in the middle of a run/walk with you just to make you flush and     stare.

His legs are so fucking nice man, thick from running     all of the time and muscly but not too much. But you know what you could     do with those thicc thighs? Mark them up with hickies. Will show them off     on his runs if it’s hot outside. Sure Buzen will flush for a moment before     smiling, “Yeah, I think they’re nice.” He would say, proud of them.

He also has a nice ass, change my MIND. Gets super embarrassed     if you slap his ass, or he is straddling your lap and you use his ass to     pull his closer hehehehehe.

Buzen is kinda loud in bed, not UBER loud but enough to     hear it within the confines of the room and have it bounce off of the     walls. He does love it when you are loud though!

Oh dude Buzen is not above teasing in public, most     often happening on your runs together. Will suddenly claim it’s hot and     then take off his shirt with a wink, “Like what you see, love?” and sure     he’ll put it back on in the citadel but he kNOWS. Also going back to his     nice ass, can and will wear pants to show it off. He is confident about     his form for sure.

He can’t handle it if you tease him back though, he     tries, he swear he’s tougher than this. But the minute you try to tease     him back, he has to retrain himself and remind himself he’s in public     before trying to fuck you into some kinda surface.

Buzen by default is a switch who is comfortable with     either role. Bottom? Top? As long as he and you are connected by this sexual     intimacy, he is happy! His favorite places to kiss are your lips and your     thighs though, marking yours up just like how you do his! A taste of your     own medicine!!! Can and will be found between your legs all day if he     must.

There are times when he chuckles or laughs during sex,     going back to the ticklishness of him. He can’t help it! Sometimes it’s     during a serious heated moment but sometimes he let out a small giggle,     amazed at the fact you two are doing this – the more likely you two are to     be found out that you two are doing the do, the more giggles will come.

BuBu’s sex drive is rather spontaneous and in a way, it’s     obvious to tell whenever he wants to do the do. His eyes will wander over     your form yes but it’s his touches that give him away. A sideways hug is     found with his fingers ghosting over your form, kisses turn more     passionate, and if he’s feeling bold enough he’ll press a kiss to the side     of your neck in public.

Body worship is oh so prevalent here, even more so if     you can worship the body that BuBu has. Run your tongue into the hip of     his hips, kiss his scars, trace his veins, massage his muscles, oh man he’ll     melt under your touch. Buzen is the same to you, equal body worship here!

Buzen’s weak points are his inner thighs, yes, but also     the nip of his neck behind his ear. He loves it when you whisper naughty     things into his ears and you may hear the slightest of growls back, “Do     not test me love, I wonder how long you can handle it until we get back to     our room, hm?”

Buzen adores it when he can hold your hips when you are     riding him, the view is almost enough to make him cum.

He won’t lie that he hasn’t thought about shower sex,     but will only try it with you if you want. Besides, he loves lil intimate     showers with you, sexual or not!

Massages always turn out to be sexy fun times anyway,     knowing him. One minute he’s rubbing your shoulders and the next they’re     gliding down and WHOOPS THERE GOES THE CLOTHES.

Aftercare means there’s always a bottle of water     present and clean up is mandatory. After that he becomes the big spoon of     your dreams, murmuring praises into your ears and rocking you to sleep.

  Matsui Gou

It takes a long time before Matsui is ready for sexual intimacy. He already has trouble within the confines of your relationship, thinking of whether or not he’s good enough for you. The first time you have sex together is slow and awkward and clumsy. Yes you two have talked about this many times but Matsui is a very slow and cautious person. His fingers against your skin are oh so gentle, kisses pressed up and down your form. No matter who is on top or who is on the bottom, Matsui wants to ensure that you are feeling good.

There are times when he will stop and question it, “Are you feeling good?” “Does this hurt? Please let me know.” And he shows nothing but concern for you! God forbid him from hurting you.

Matsui has a pretty low sex drive, feeling much more comfy with romantic intimacy than sexual intimacy more than anything. That isn’t to say he isn’t willing to have sex with you! He does, it just takes him a while to get enough confidence.

And then there’s the body worship. Oh Matsui will want nothing more than to show you how much he loves you. His hand will always be in yours, and if it isn’t damn right he’s going to search for it. Hand kisses are mandatory between you during sex, and maybe sucking each other’s fingers. Oh Matsui will almost die from a nosebleed.

·Matsui does frequent this one sex shop to find suitable lingerie for the two of you. Sometimes it may be matching or sometimes it’s a bit of a surprise. He tends to bring extra tissues with him though in case his nose begins to bleed. He prefers picking out things that have nice material that is comfortable, and suits your body/skin tone. If he does wear something scandalous under his clothing it’s something to compliment himself or you! Gods help him if he catches even a glimpse of something naughty under your clothing; he’s found dead on the floor.

When Matsui wants to be sexually intimate, he’ll come up to you with a shy smile and a flushed face, and tell you straight up that he wants to be intimate with you. Of course it’s in private when it tells it to you.

Matsui doesn’t mind marking you but always seems to treat you like glass. His kisses are gentle and will hesitant to do anything to make you bleed. Gods forbid that! If he worries about himself biting you, he will ask for you to lead and thus will practically gag himself. He adores it when you mark him though, and sure he may try to hide it under his clothing but everyone knows with his red face and how he’s constantly adjusting his clothing in a mirror.

Oh sweet Matsui has such a big ol praise kink. He is doing nothing but murmuring the sweetest of words against your skin. “You look so beautiful right now, I wish you could see the way I see you.” “It is alright, my love, I have you. Come here, let me touch you a little more, yes?” “P-Please…will you mark me more? Let the others know that I am yours?”

Ain’t nothing more sexy than consent as he asks for permission to remove items or touch certain parts of your body. If you do the same to him, he’ll be happy.

What gets him riled up the most is pulling him by his collar to kiss him, depending on who is sitting on who’s lap at the time. His hands on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into them.

Matsui is rarely ever rough. The only time he is rough is when your hips snap together during sex, his hands gripping your hips and careful to never break skin.

Despite how soft Matsui is, there are times that if you push his buttons enough, Matsui turns out to be rather intense. This normally involves casually showing off hints of lingerie under your clothing, have your hands glide over his body when no one is looking, whispering sweet nothings into his ears and sometimes full on trapping him against a surface, straddling his hips. A switch will almost be flipped within his mind and soon he flips you two over with a smirk dancing on his lips. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me?”

Matsui is a bottom leaning switch, but again it doesn’t matter much to him who is on top and who is on the bottom. He’s just happy being connected with you like this. That being said, don’t be surprised if he suddenly wants to switch things around outta nowhere. He is also rather quiet in bed.

Toys are a maybe? It’ll be further on down the line of your relationship.

After care consists of Matsui rubbing your sore body, with whispers of, “Are you alright? I didn’t harm you right?” “Did I hurt you? I apologize.” Half of it are apologies and other times it’s just him telling you how good you did, or if he did good. He just wants to be praised, okay????

Samidare Gou

Marking. Oh this man is very much into marking his territory. Of course he’ll be giving you hickies everywhere he can! No stopping him here! Why would he stop when he wants to show the world that you belong to him???? Can and will show off his own marks if he must. He will be proud of them after all!

Samidare is probably one of the more feral of his brothers, next to Murakumo. There will be growls and groans when he is having sex, loud and proud, and you have to keep him quiet, gags or mouth or fingers. Take your pick.

Samidare is a service top. He won’t mind who is what role and he’s pretty fluid and ready to adjust to whatever role you will assign to him, but Samidare on top is something else. His fingers will leave marks on your skin, and will not hesitate to make you scream his name.

It’s rather easy to see if Samidare is in the mood. He becomes more protective and possessive of you around the other TouDan, growling at anyone and hugging you from behind. His hands ghosting over your form, and his favorite neck and shoulder kisses linger for far more longer than they normally do. In fact, they might start trailing upward to your ear to whisper something into them, or downwards to make a map of stars upon the expanse of your back. 

It’s not that Samidare has a high sex drive or anything, it ebbs and flows with the wind. There are times when he’s happy just to kiss you and then there are times when he wants to fuck you into the nearest surface and make you beg. 

Speaking of begging, he is very much into that. Flip the roles, make him beg for your touch. It’s delicious I swear. 

Oh Samidare lives for praise. Praising him makes his cock twitch in longing and him to lean into your touches, soft whimpers whenever you tell him how much of a good boy he is. Because he is in fact, a good boi.

Samidare has a pretty good nose, and knows your scent very well. So uh, don’t be surprised if he steals an article of clothing from you and you find him jerking it off to your scent. 

Also loves it when he goes down on you and you pull on his hair. There is this guttural growl that leaves his throat and his eyes will glance upwards almost begging you to do it again.

Don’t tease Samidare in public unless you want to play with fire. How dare you press up against him like this, playing at his own game. Be careful dear, you might find yourself on top of your desk, clothes ripped to shreds and Samidare overstimulating you to no end.

Yes he’s also into overstim and orgasm denial, will abuse these as he sees fit.

Breeding kink? Maybe? 

Oh dude this man has a bit of a thing for your hands. Pet him, force him to suck on your fingers and call him a good boy. He’ll love it.

Does he have a fave position? Doggy style? Maybe. MIssionary? Maybe. You riding on top of him? Y  ES

Aftercare is nothing but cuddles, he wants to hold you close man. Sure you two will clean up but Samidare is ready to knock tf oUT.

#touken ranbu #touken danshi #touken ranbu x reader #touken ranbu imagine #my writing #sin bin #tkrb #tkrb x reader #tkrb imagine #buzen gou #buzen gou x reader #buzen gou x saniwa #buzen gou imagine #matsui gou #matsui gou x reader #matsui gou imagine #matsui gou x saniwa #samidare gou #samidare gou x reader #samidare gou imagine #samidare gou x saniwa

[kat-tamin]

Kat Tamin NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: Language, Smut 

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

She’s good with a bit of cuddling afterwards, but only for a bit. After a while, her brain just goes, “Okay, what’s next?”. She’ll talk about what just happened, what you liked or didn’t like, if you enjoyed yourself. She’ll offer you a drink or a snack or a shower if you’re at her apartment. She doesn’t mind if you stay the night, even when you’re just a one night stand. She’ll make you breakfast in the morning then send you home. If she’s at yours, and she’s not staying the night, she’ll give you like twenty minutes of cuddling before calling an Uber to go home. 

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

Man or woman, Kat loves an ass. She loves when you wear tight pants or underwear that showcases what you’re working with. She loves grabbing it, biting it, slapping it. She loves holding onto it when you’re fucking her, leaving fingerprints and nail marks on you.

You love her neck. She has a sensitive spot right under her ear that if you suck on, she’s instantly wet beyond belief. You love to mark it as your own, with lipstick, with your teeth. You love seeing them the next morning, a reminder of your love.

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

Kat loves cum, especially in her mouth; that special nectar that is you. She loves to go down on you, and when you cum, she makes sure a drop isn’t spilled. She’ll swallow everything you have, then kiss you, make you taste yourself on her tongue. 

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

She feels like a bad feminist, but sometimes she just wants to be absolutely railed by a guy. She wants that total lack of control. She wants to be used as a fuck toy, with no concern about her pleasure. She wants to be fucked over and over until she can barely keep her eyes open, covered in cum.

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

She definitely knows what she’s doing. She may not have a lot of experience with long term relationships, but she’s had quite a few casual relationships. She’s more experienced with women, but she’s had a few male friends-with-benefits situations.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

She loves 69ing, because it brings out her competitive side. She loves it when she’s going down on you, and you have to keep stopping what you’re doing to moan or gasp. She’s determined to make you cum first, and you usually do, with a big groan into her pussy, which usually sends her over the edge.

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

She’s more serious in the beginning, not wanting to make a wrong move or say something stupid. Once you’re comfortable, that’s when she gets more silly. She’ll laugh at the noises or the little oops that happen naturally during sex. 

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

Kat can be very romantic if that’s what you want. She can go slow, making sure to touch every inch of you, take her time to worship you. She’ll say how beautiful you are, how much she loves you; kiss you soft and sweet while you’re fucking.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

After a long, stressful day, she just wants to relax, turn her brain off. Sure, you making her cum would be nice, but sometimes she just wants to use her vibrator and go to sleep, without having to worry about anyone else.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

She has a pegging kink. It’s not something she’s explored much, she hasn’t found a guy willing to do it, but she thinks about it a lot. Sometimes, a guy will give her the go ahead to use a finger or two, and she gets so excited. Something about the taboo of it, the total submission of a guy under her, makes her so fucking wet.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Her favourite place is at home, in her own bed. She doesn’t have to worry about roommates, or what your bathroom is like. She likes the familiar surroundings so she can focus totally on you, not whether you’ll be mad when she leaves.

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

If you’ve just met, a good back and forth conversation gets her interested in you. She’s attracted to people with good vibes and a good sense of humour. If all those things are combined, she’ll go home with you.

She loves a strip tease from you, the slow reveal of skin, bonus points if you’re not wearing any underwear. The confident smile of you waiting for her to come home from work, already wearing sexy lingerie is an instant turn on. She loves someone who knows what they want, especially sex. 

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

Since working at SVU, non-con or dub-con is an absolute no. Even if you ask her to take you against your will in a kink scene, she won’t. If a “no” slips out of your mouth, even if you’re just playing, it’s an instant stop. If either of you has had a few drinks, or smoked a bit of weed, she’s reluctant to fuck you. She’d rather just make out for a while, just in case you’re not as in control as you think.

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

Her head game is immaculate. Guys, girls, it doesn’t matter, her tongue knows exactly what to do and where to go. It may be sloppy sometimes, but it feels so fucking good. As mentioned, she loves drinking cum, draining you dry. After a few rounds, it’s her turn: usually with her riding your face, hands in your hair.

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

She doesn’t have a preference, likes to decide in the moment. She seems to know exactly what you need/want, and on the rare occasion she gets it wrong, she’s quick to adjust.

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

She’s game for quickies, even if you don’t get to do it often, but she’d rather take her time with you, so you can each cum a few times. Sometimes when you’re out in public, she’ll give you a Look, and you know you have to find a private bathroom stall, and quick. She’ll use one hand to pleasure you, the other pressed to your mouth to stifle your groans, a whisper in your ear to be quiet.

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

She’s still young, so she may not know what she likes, so she’s all for experimentation in kinks. She wants to explore what makes you feel good, too.

If she’s sleeping with a guy, risk is a no-go. She has an IUD but still makes you wear  a condom. She always asks if you’re clean before fucking you the first time. She has no time for STDs or God forbid, a pregnancy.

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

If she’s with a woman, she can go for hours, especially if she doesn’t have to work the next day. Most of that time is spent on you, making you cum over and over until you have to push her away because you can’t take anymore. If you’re too exhausted by then, she’ll use your body to get off: your thigh makes an excellent substitute.

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

She has a vibrator and a couple straps. The vibrator is more for herself than you, but if you have your own, she’ll use it. Her straps are high-quality, in a variety of sizes, and she loves to use them. She loves fucking you with them, making you deep-throat her cock. As mentioned, she wants to peg, so she has a few plugs just in case the situation arrives. 

She’s cool with you using straps on her, too. She loves riding a cock, and you love the look on her face when it hits her just right, her eyes rolling back in pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s a Service Top, first and foremost. Your pleasure is her pleasure, so she doesn’t like to tease. She’d rather make you cum over and over until you’re so sensitive, you can’t be touched.

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

She’s more on the quiet side, she’d rather it be you making the noise. She’ll praise you, tell you how pretty you look with her fingers in you, how good you taste. She lets out quiet gasps and curses while you fuck her. If you’re fucking her hard enough, she’ll start speaking in Arabic. You have no idea what she says but it just spurns you on even further. When she cums, it’s usually with a quiet groan of your name.

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

She has a bit of an exhibition kink, even though she knows she’s the last person who should be doing it. Locked bathroom stalls, private offices, the gym locker room, the darkness of a cab’s backseat, are all fair game. Her favourite thing to do is to get a hotel room with a big window or balcony and fuck you, hoping passerby's can see and hear you when you cum.

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

We know she’s got a boxer's body, all plains and hard edges. Her whole body is pure toned muscles, with a glorious set of abs you love to lick. She likes to keep herself tidy and trimmed, but not bare. Waxing is very low on her priority list, and if you can’t deal with a bit of hair, she knows you’re not the one.

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

Probably a couple times a week, depending on if you both have the time, and if you’ve had a long day or not. Weekends and days off are when you make up for what you missed during the week, with a couple rounds in the morning and at night. If Kat wants to do it, but you don’t, she’s happy to take care of it herself, and you do her the same courtesy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You always fall asleep first, no matter how much or how little sex you’ve had. You usually fall asleep in her arms, but once you’re out, she moves so she can sleep comfortably, with a bit of space between you.

#kat tamin #svu #kat tamin headcanons #headcanons #smut #*

[nicka-nell]

Reaction to your ex-boyfriend writing to you 

Pairing: Akaashi x reader, Ushijima x reader, Iwaizumi x reader Warning: none, just fluff

You’ve been in a relationship with Akaashi a long time, so you were very surprised when your ex-boyfriend texted you.

Hello y/n.I’m back in Japan. Would you like to meet me…? Just for coffee, just chat.

You didn’t split up in the bad, but you still don’t know what to do now. Sighing, you come home and sit on the couch tired. “Hey my love, how was your day?” Akaashi greets you with a loving kiss on the forehead and sits down next to you.

“My ex wants to meet with me, just talk…” Questioning and with his head tilted to the side, he looks at you. “Okay, why are you telling me this now?”, “Because I wanted to know what you thought.” Even if you wanted to meet with him, the first thing you’d want to know is if Akaashi was okay with it.

“If you want to go there, I don’t want to stop you. You’re an adult and you can decide for yourself, love. I would never forbid you anyth-” He can’t finish his sentence because Bokuto suddenly jumps out of your bathroom, only covered with a towel.

“AKAAAASHIIIIII!” he just shouts. “Oh God, Bokuto! What are you doing in our apartment?” you shout to him. “Oh yes, Bokuto’s shower is not working at the moment and I offered him to shower here.” Akaashi answers you calmly. Still confused, you look back and forth between the two men.

“Akaashi, you can’t let her go! What if her weird ex wants to take her back? What if y/n leaves you? I couldn’t bear to see you die, Akaashi. I’m not ready for my parents to split up!” Like a drama queen, he puts his hand on his forehead and waves air to himself with his other hand.

“Bokuto…y/n can do what she wants. I trust her fully. If she wants to go there, let her go. I love her, and I support her in everything she does. Besides, I won’t die, you’re not our child and y/n won’t return to her ex.” At his last words, you feel how his hand is lying on your lap, pressing you even harder.

Akaashi would do anything for you, even if he doesn’t like it or it makes him sad. He would never admit it, for your own good.

You’re still smiling as you reach for his hand. “I didn’t want to go anyway.” You whisper lovingly and give him a kiss on the hand.

A barely visible smile draws his face and in his eyes three words are clearly written: Thank you love.

Ushijima and you are like an old married couple. You can communicate without many words, and always know when the other person is in a bad mood. Just like today, because your ex wrote to you.

Hey y/n. I know I screwed up, and yes, this is probably already too late but babe… I miss you, let’s talk. Give me one last chance. The odd volleyball player doesn’t suit you, sweetie.

You don’t know why you’re even thinking about this message. After all, you’re happy with Ushijima. 

“Hey, snow hare, the commercial’s over. Are you still watching?” He’ll ask you without warping his face. “What? Oh yes…”  you answered him and looked at the TV again. But his gaze lingers on your face. “Is something wrong?” he asks irritated. “My ex wrote to me and wants to talk to me, he probably wants to make up for everything.” You just sigh and look at Ushijima.

“I understand.” his look and his voice are still calm. “You… You don’t mind…? You have no doubts?” you ask skeptically. “Why? I know you love me. I trust you.” his voice is still calm, but he turns his gaze away from you. “Besides… if you no longer have feelings for me and want to go back to your ex, I couldn’t stop it… You can’t force feelings y/n. If they could be forced, I would have made Oikawa come to the Shiratorizawa. Instead, he’s wasting his talent on Aobajohsai.”

Now you can’t help laughing. “You and Oikawa… A love story that will never end.” You mumble to yourself. “What did you say?” asks Ushijima, who didn’t understand you. “Nothing, but well… I don’t know if I should go yet.” You sigh and start playing with your fingers. Actually, you would have wished that Ushijima would come out more of himself. But of course you love him for his quiet manner.

He looks at you with an unintelligible look. Without saying anything, he bends over to you and supports his hands left and right of you on the couch. “Toshi?” you ask in wonder. “I don’t care if you meet your ex or not. But I want him to understand that you belong to me…” He whispers to you in a deep voice, while his gaze has now darkened.

“Toshi!” you groan briefly as you feel his lips and teeth on your neck. Loving but also a bit rough, he marks your neck with several hickeys. “You belong to me and not to anyone else. If you meet your ex, don’t cover the hickeys and… wear my jacket.” He whispers to you and slowly pushes his cold hand under your top to caress your skin.

“Do you want the smoothie with spinach or the one with strawberries?” asks Iwaizumi, standing in front of your blender in the kitchen with his sleeves up. “Ih! Of course, the one with strawberries!” You make a face in disgust. 

“I knew you would. The sweet stuff for my darling and the healthy strong stuff for your strong handsome boyfriend.” he laughs loudly and shows his strong arms. But instead of looking at him, you’re looking at your vibrating phone.

Hey y/n. I know you have your own life but… I miss you so much… Can we meet? One last time? I want to see your smile again.

“Earth to y/n! What’s wrong with you?” Iwaizumi hisses. “What? Nothing…” you answer absentmindedly. “Oh yes? Then why are you looking at your phone?” he still sounds annoyed and leans forward to look at your phone.

“Who is this? What does this guy want from you?” now completely annoyed he clenches his hand to the fist. “It’s just my ex-boyfriend… He wants to meet with me.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. “You’re not going there, at least not without me.” He hisses angry and turns to his spinach smoothie.

“You want to tell me who I can and can’t meet?” Now you’re upset, too, because you can’t understand his possessive behavior. “Why do you want to meet your ex? That’s really shitty y/n.”, “And why?” you reply quickly. “Because you’re my girl. Because you’ll always be my girl. You’re mine. You belong to your big strong daddy.”

At his last words, he comes over to you and takes you from behind in his arm, just to bury his head in the crook of your neck. “Hey Iwa-honey, what are you doing there?” you giggle because his eyelashes tickle your neck.

“You know, I’m gonna show my little sexy baby how good a spinach smoothie is and how strong her good-looking boyfriend is.” He whispers to you, and with one jolt, he lifts you up. “Hey!” you laugh up and look him in the eye. 

“I didn’t want to meet my ex anyway, I just have eyes for you.” you smile because he’s the only one who can make you happy. “I know babe, and I love you for that.” 

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x read #keiji x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hajime x reader