#but i put on this song and literally felt the relief wash over me

[emo-and-emo-adjacent]

I've been thinking 'bout that evening, darling We walked further than I thought we would You looked at me like I was your answer I looked at you like you meant something

#fireworks (reprise) #radiator hospital #torch song #lyrics #midwest emo #folk #indie #alt #have some tunes #i have been so stressed lately #but i put on this song and literally felt the relief wash over me

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 10: Little

Author's Note

Word count: 8.4k (whoops)

Read the rest on my Masterlist!

This would be easier if Damiano was’t saying all the right things all at once. A minute in between, or even a warning, would make the turn in conversation more bearable.

“There was a point, a couple months in, where I would have traded a lobe of my poor liver for you to be all clingy and needy in Little headspace. I miss being your Dom so fucking much, so fucking much.” He’s putting such emphasis into his words that it slightly strains his voice. “With your anxiety, having your Dom basically disappear…and we’d spent years building the dynamic into something that was both pleasurable and therapeutic. All that trust and I…the head fuck, I can’t imagine. I don’t want you to think that it wasn’t the most special thing in the world to me.” The sobs are coming so fast that you can’t inhale in between and end up literally choking on your own misery. It's the way a toddler with no self-regulation skills cried.  

“I know, at points, I’ve done power play with other partners.” He’s wincing as he speaks, which is totally unnecessary. You just didn’t get the inclination to submit to anyone else. 

“But I’ve just been stuck on the thought that you might have felt replaceable.” You shake your head and try to gather the air to speak. Instead of just embracing, an hand snakes under your blouse provides pressure through calming, even strokes along your back 

“Felt impor – ortan –ant,” you manage, face tucked snuggly against his neck. Damiano sighs in relief.

“Good. Thank god.”

“Knew I mattered.” Although all the syllables come out right, the next phrase is such a struggle that it's almost indiscernible. “Knew…loved, not – not a…burden.” It was the way your well-intentioned, but often unequipped parents made you feel: like more than they signed up for. It's hard to articulate negatively about a good childhood. They bought roses for your middle school graduation, but you’d rather sit on the bathroom floor with the flu alone than endure your frantic mother or patronizing father. How could a kid they very much intended to have be emotionally over-demanding? Must be something wrong with the kid. 

Except nothing made you feel more right than Dami kneeling on the side of a bubble bath, contentedly washing you with a baby-pink washcloth. He used lavender scented soap and smiled adoringly at how quickly you became non-verbal. 

“Feel floaty, little one?” he’d coo, asking if you’d entered headspace just from this intimate act of service. No pain. No sex. The dynamic had reached a point where just his presence and intention was enough since Damiano, himself, was completely tranquil. It created a euphoric energy exchange, always nurturing. He enjoyed it, you blossomed, but that all came to a grinding halt as soon as the trust wore thin.

“Selfishly, I miss feeling in control, too. I tried to sublimate, but I couldn’t wait for the scenes to me over. It felt manufactured with new partners and just…wrong. Gross, even. Fuck, why am I saying this?” he groans. “I just wanted something to click so badly and it didn’t.

“S’okay.”

“I know this is asking for a lot. Really, I shouldn’t be asking for anything at all, considering living together is more than I realistically hoped for. You know what? I’m gonna shut up.” You shake your head, drying your wet face on the cotton of Dam’s shirt, only for it to  be full of tears again. “Okay, I wish that — I want there to be a way that I earn your trust again, dynamic wise. I miss my little girl.”

That one physically hurts, like a side cramp from running after drinking too much water. The stabbing pain emanates deep into your torso because “yeaning” doesn’t begin to describe your emotions. You literally ached to be curled up in Dami’s lap while he hit his weed vape during The Little Mermaid. Of course, half an hour in, he was humming the melodies into your ear. Sometimes he even did voices or rocked back and forth to the beat of the songs, the soft pajamas he’s dressed you in pleasantly brushing your skin.

“I miss holding you and feeling the pure joy at convincing me to watch one of those Disney movies that are intolerable except for the music. You try to hide how excited you get and I try to act like I wasn’t gonna say yes to anything you picked.” 

“Damia…” You ball your hands into fists, fingernails biting into the soft flesh. It's a bad habit, but an effective one. The little bit of pain keeps you present when you’d like to fawn. This wasn’t the place: rehab facility, in a previously sterile, closet–size room. The couple times you’d accidentally slipped into subspace semi-publicly had been scary. If you were meeting him on tour, Damiano was extremely intentional about creating a controlled environment, and if he didn’t feel confident, you wouldn't play.

Perhaps, without realizing it, the hand under your shirt is stoking at the same pace as an even breath. When one body was upset, the other subconsciously moved to calm it. All you needed was to breathe in time with his hand against your back, and allow yourself to fall into submission. Every cell in your being had been screaming for this, waiting months for Dami’s reassuring touch, but you couldn’t allow yourself to enjoy it. Hell, you shouldn't be allowing it whatsoever because based on recent history you’d end up hurt. Worse still, you’d feel helpless, which was an emotion you’d clawed your way out of with cut up hands and bleeding fingernails. 

“I need to stand up,” you decide, clambering off his lap. It takes Dami by surprise and he hangs onto your wrists while you struggle to get your feet right. He can tell something is awry.

“Okay, you're standing. What now?” he asks in his gentlest voice. Speak. Fucking speak. Maybe you could go home and fall back into memory, pretend it wasn’t a temporary fix that would ultimately deepen the wound. 

“Look at me.” You can’t stop your face from turning, so you squeeze your eyes closed and feel a rush of tears. “Look at me.” You pout your lip and shake your head, whimpering in distress. The lip pout was a dead giveaway, so you bite it instead and taste blood. The palms of your hands hurt, your lip hurt, your heart hurt. How was a person supposed to contain this much hurt and be unaffected?

“When we split you didn’t have another dom. How long did it take you to find one, y/n?” He caught on too easily. Your left leg begins shaking, quivering at the knee like it's about to give out. Your body tries to contain nervous energy. It’s too much. The sobs are so frequent you struggle to breath, coughing on snot.

“Did some piece of shit hurt you, piccola mia? What did they do wrong?” You choke on your own spit at the tone of his voice, covered in goosebumps. Damiano probably didn’t realize how dominant he sounded. His little girl making a mistake within a new dynamic wasn’t even a possibility to him. Had to be the dom’s fault because you were perfection.

“When you’re ready we can redo the scene and it’ll go exactly how you want. I’ll be so careful to replace that bad memory with a good one. Hmm?” You shake your head. There had been no bad substitute dom, because there’d been no other dom at all.

“Open your eyes,” he commands, tightening the grip on your wrists. Dami sits forward and pulls you between his spread legs. You stare at your left shoe. One of Princess’s hairs was on the bland, gray carpet, nearly camouflaged. 

“I haven't submitted to anyone,” you whisper so quietly that not even crying can distort the words.

“Look at me.” It's another command, more forceful. His grip on your wrists aches, just enough to draw attention. Keeping the kicked puppy expression off of your face became impossible ten minutes ago, so when Dami looks, he sees. He’s absolutely devastated, then kicking himself for not putting two and two together. 

“You’re going to be Little for a while. Sit on my lap.” Now that the decisions made, you’re so awash in relief that your oxygenation gets even more fucked up.

“Can’t breathe.” He makes the decision physically, too, and pulls you down to him. You go completely pliant, so sitting on his lap becomes laying on his chest. Dami turns both your bodies to fit semi-comfortably along the tiny bed. You peel off your shirt to reveal just a sports bra, worn to keep the boobage under control. Now all that matters was his warm hands on your bare skin. The shirt falls to the floor and Princess sniffs it out of curiosity. 

“Let me change into a tank top,” he murmurs. It's a sign of respect, since he’d go shiftless any other time. “Loosen your grip. I’m just getting something from my dresser, you're okay, topolina.” Subconsciously, you’d wrapped your arms around Dami and established a vice hold, so he’d have to pry your arms apart to get away. It was a desperate move.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not allowed to apologize unless I ask, surely you remember that.”

“I remember,” you slip into Little Voice and watch Damiano’s from out under your lashes. It’d be so much quicker to get out of bed, but instead he props himself on his left elbow and reaches to open the drawer with his right hand. As a result you get to stay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat through the cotton.

Every movement is done together. Sitting up with a firm arm around your waist is done together. You even help him pull off the baggy t-shirt and unnecessarily smooth over the straps of his tank top. He’s gained muscle fast. Already you can see the difference in Damiano’s biceps and shoulders. It’d still be nice to see a healthy layer of body fat. Right now he’s a bit sinewy.

“They have a gym here.”

“You noticed,” he beams. Rather than answer his gaze, you stare at where your thighs touch and feel yourself get wet.

“Mm, you forget that I can feel what you’re thinking when you’re on my lap, michetta.” Why in god’s name did you wear cheap trousers and thin underwear? Even your ear’s burn with embarrassment. 

“Awe, now did I say you were allowed to blush that pretty?” He takes the hair tie from your wrist and pulls your hair back, so he can see your face from all angels. “Does this feel nice?” Dami fingers combs your locks, stropping whenever there's a tangle until the full ponytail is clutched in his first. Then he pulls from the base of your skull. You're too braindead to provide resistance. Rather than pull your hair, Damiano ends up tilting your whole head back. You freeze, afraid it's your mistake.

Initially, all Dami does is breathe, and you can feel the air hitting your stretched neck. He just sits there, with your head craned back, enjoying the view of all your exposed skin, like a predator before butchering its meal. Just allowing this stance is an act of submission by you. His eyes fall to the notch at the base of your neck, across your clavicles, along the flat expanse of your breast bone, and landing on the line of your cleavage.

“Notice your breathing.” For the first time in several minutes, your awareness turns inward, away from your dominant. Was the pattern of your inhale-exhale normal? No. But was it panicked? Also no. You were panting, aroused by the knowledge of Dami’s eyes on your neck. It was a ridiculous reaction. 

“‘S better.”

“Mhm.” The hand around your middle slowly rises to your throat. Damiano simply sets the bottom knuckles against your trachea, not applying any force, intricately observing your reaction. Then he folds the entirety of his warm palm around your neck, keeping tension with your hair. Finally he wraps his fingers around the column of your neck, leaving you in rapture. At any moment, he’ll apply force, restricting blood flow and subsequently flooding you in endorphins when his grip releases. Dami’s thumb tenderly rubs behind your ear lobe, the gentle sensation a precursor to some brutality that never comes.

“You are okay.” Using both hands, Damiano brings your head upright. As soon as he lets go you feel the weight of the world and yearn for his guiding touch.

“Signore?” you say his chosen Honorific in confusion. His careful hands are back, tucking your face securely between his shoulder and neck. One resumes the delicious tension with your hair and the other cups your cheek as he lays back down. 

“So good at keeping your eyes closed, piccola. Remember I had to train you to do that? Now, you give in without me even asking. Such a perfect pet.” He kisses your forehead and rubs your bare back while administering the occasional validation. “Curled up just right, topolina. You are my sweetest little girl when you’re snuggly.” Just when you’re prepared to swan dive into subspace for the foreseeable future, Dami jostles your shoulder. “I need you to stay verbal.” You groan in protest, feeling disoriented as you search for words. They’re unreachable objects, floating around in your submissive mental fog.

“Ssh, shh. I didn’t want you to startle. That's my fault and I’m sorry,” he coos, stroking your hair with gentle pressure that coaxes you to lay down. “Take a deep breath. Mhm, that's just how I asked, piccola mia. You’re doing a really good job.” 

“Brain off,” you groan. Damiano chuckles, but keeps his hand at the same pace. He’s good at that. As a dominant partner, his physicality often had a hypnotic quality. 

“I’m sorry that I have to keep you at the surface. I wish it was different, that I could be a better Dom.” 

“You…good Dom.”

“Three whole words? I’m impressed. I’ve seen you go non-verbal for so long I wondered if you’d talk the next morning.”

“Mm…nice.”

“Yeah, I bet that sounds nice right now. Maybe we’ll do that when I get home. This can be non-sexual for a while.” The bastard properly yanks your hair for the first time as punctuation, just enough for a violent full-body shiver and a little sting at the nape of the neck. It was your favorite.

“Fuck you.” Simultaneously, you stretch like Princess in the sun, coiling yourself tighter around Dami. “Fuck you and the way you smell.” Your nose was nudging against the back of his head, where all the sweat collected.

“I’m one day past needing a shower. Sorry, I know you only like that when you’re ovulating and feral.” And right now. He smelled grubby in a way you wanted to taste too. Would he notice if you licked him? With inhibitions compromised, you lick the nape of his neck, feeling the short hairs at the top with your tongue. Damiano startles and pulls away, shocked.

“Did you just lick me?” It's such a harsh reaction that you immediately regret it. Now that the cuddles have stopped, you feel uneasy with self consciousness. What kind of invasive, tone deaf pervert does what you just did? And here you’d lectured about boundaries. 

Damiano’s face dissolves from shock into pity into regret. He cups your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth. Were you crying again? You couldn’t feel your face, or anywhere else on your body. He hasn’t given you permission to apologize. Even so, the words are almost bursting forth. 

“You surprised me,” he explains slowly, speaking like you’re a confused child. It’s healing, to be talked down to, but not demeaned, in a world where your senses are in a constant state of being assaulted by information.

 “Good surprise. I shouldn’t have jumped. I’m sorry, pet.” It was the second time he’s said ‘I’m sorry,’ while you weren’t allowed. “It’s been so long since I had the privilege of our dynamic and…” Dami looks out the window again, and sighs in thought. He pulls you close again and rolls over so he’s resting on top this time. With his familiar weight pushing you into the mattress, not wrapping your legs around his hips becomes a very conscious choice.

“You are uninhibited by shame in the expression of your submission.” A single finger on your chin brings your eyes to his and Damiano’s gaze is the only thing necessary to own your attention. “So strictly platonic might not work for us, because I will never put limits on your sexual expression.” The moment is so intense that you mentally beg for Dami to release it, but he grasps it with an iron-clad fist, willfully. “So things are going to be partially experimental, at your discretion, because hard boundaries are not comfortable for you. They are not where you thrive.” 

You’re nodding along in wide-eyed agreement, dreading when this moment ends and you have to have an entire thought on your own. Dami is holding himself very still, rather than relaxing against you as is normal. It's undoubtedly because he’s hard. Wanting to feel that validation you begin to raise your knees, intending to wrap your legs over his hips and bring him close enough to eliminate any secrets. With a firm hand on your thigh, he stops the gesture, legs returning to the bed.

“Breathe,” he reminds, caressing your ribcage. 

“I wanna apologize,” you whimper, embarrassed at your own horny behavior.

“No. Breathe into my hand.” Each inhale, you focus on the sensation of Dami’s skin against yours and his weight on your left side. “I will not allow you to apologize for organically acting out your desires. I am here to regulate your behavior. I don’t expect you to do it.” Damiano’s face begins to blur as you slip deeper into submission and try to claw your way towards the surface.

He resituates your bodies to lay facing each other. One hand is cupping your ribcage, the other rests at the base of your neck. The immediate adrenaline rush makes you more cognizant. Curious about all the movement, Princess hops on the bed, meowing a complaint that there is not enough room to lay between your torsos.

“I'm busy, babygirl,” he tells her. She meows again and turns her head away, as if she understands.

“Okay, brain turning on.”

“Just keep breathing. That’s all you have to do and you’re listening so well.” He rubs circles on your chest and in response your nipples get hard, even though the bra’s padding. “I love it when you touch me like this,” he muses. Gathering all your focus, you slip a hand under Dami’s tanktop and lay it on his sternum.

“Piccola mia, look at me.” He only has to ask once. “You are okay. I know this was just the beginning of what you needed.” Instead of crying as a response to everything, you access that little well of calm inside you, and find that there's steadiness to be had. “If we were to do a scene, you might not feel safe here, or you might feel uneasy afterwards. Also you need to drive home.”

“I understand.” You strain to kiss Dami’s nose.

“Breathe. You are okay.”

“I am okay,” you repeat back, automatically. 

“You are okay.”

“I am okay.” You finally consider the words and nod in understanding. “I’m okay. I’m not actively trying to keep it together anymore. Holy shit, I actually feel alright,” you exclaim in surprise. He hums in agreement, and pulls you onto his chest. Being constantly reminded to breathe steadily has manually calmed your nervous system down. Your body physically knew that it wasn’t in a state of distress anymore, panic gone.

“Fiveish minute warning,” Damiano announces, like a nanny at a playground.

“No,” you grumble, getting a more secure grip and nuzzling.

“When you feel like you’re gonna turn into a sinkhole from all the pressure life is applying, find this feeling again. It’ll still be there. You don’t have to use it or owe it to anybody. Just have some peace and know I believe in your capabilities unconditionally.”

“I believe in you unconditionally.” Dami scoffs and pats the mattress.

“This bed we’re laying on, is in a rehab facility that I didn’t even get myself into. My brilliant, persuasive girlfriend tricked the entire Italian healthcare system and babysat me on the way here.”

“Technically I committed a crime, so don’t put me too high on a pedestal.” He frowns with just the right side of his mouth, eyes darting back and forth on the textured ceiling. “Hey…” You fold both hands on his chest to prop up your chin.

“Hey.”

“You’re missing the point.” He cocks an eyebrow. “We’re laying in a bed in a rehab facility that I tricked my way into together.” This earns a full smile and a suggestive lip bite. It's humanizing to view Dami from an angle that gives him a double chin, as he gazes down in adoration.

“That is a good point.” His eyes scan your face, repeatedly darting down to your lips. It is a very intimate position.

“Okay, so this is a question, not a statement.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you trying to get me to kiss you right now? Because I can’t tell.” You blush and break eye contact, laying a cheek to the cotton of Dami’s tank top. “Ah, fuck me. That’s a no. Fuck.”

“Not yet,” you whisper, tracing the lines of a cat tattoo on the inside of his bicep.

“I’m not trying to pressure you.”

“I know. It doesn’t come off that way.”

“Good because I don’t…I’m really happy with where we’re at and I don’t want to do anything to damage it.”

“You’re not, Damia and I don’t wanna…freak out and get snot all over you.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the first normal reaction you’ve had to all this. I’m relieved. Anger and tears are reactions I can understand.”

“I’ll be sure to yell at you next time.”

“You say that as a joke but it’d be nice to get it out of the way.” That comment rubs you the wrong way and you sit up.

“Do you think I’m just harboring secret rage, waiting for a moment where I can cause optimal damage to unleash it?”

“Wha – no. No, I don’t think that.”

“I haven’t held back on our phone calls or when we split up. I walked out of the hospital and I blocked all ways for you to contact me.”

“I know, I just feel like I deserve…more. More punishment.”

“That sounds like some shit you need to figure out with a therapist, not put on me.” Damn, subbyness gone. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Ugh!” You splay out on his chest once more, missing the simplicity of the previous moment.

“I ruined it.”

“You can’t be constantly debilitated by self-loathing because staying sober and putting our relationship back together isn’t gonna work with that weight. I don’t resent you the way you’re bracing for.”

“Why?” he presses.

“Because you are not the person I broke up with! Become that person again, and you will feel the wrath of a thousand hell demons. But this person –” you poke the middle of his chest with your pointer finger. “I fell in love with at 18 and continue to love. I know you didn’t act maliciously, or as your true self. Anger is just…so simple. Too simple.” He softens and traces his fingertips up and down your spine. “I will be an absolute prison warden about drug testing though.”

“Good, that’ll make me feel better. And I’m glad that you’re acknowledging the hurt I caused, even if it wasn’t my intent. Intent doesn’t heal the wounds.”

“Well, except…“knowing you didn’t mean to hurt someone takes away a lot of the betrayal, so it does matter.” You shift and sign in contentment. God, he really smelled unreasonably delicious. “Plus I’m a big girl, I can work through my emotions.” His fingertips massage your scalp in a way that damn near makes your eyes roll back. Instead, you shiver while he gathers your hair in a fist.

“My turn.”

“Huh?” Damiano flips you on your back again, but instead of keeping his head level, he lowers his face to your chest. You still don’t understand what's going on until his tongue licks between your cleavage, up to your collar bones. From there he kisses along your neck with tongue, pulling your hair to make the area more accessible to his mouth.

“Hnngg mm, Damia. Ahh, okay.” His tongue runs along the shell of your ear, making every body hair stand on end from the stimulation. “Huuuh, fuck. Not fair. Mm-mmm, not…not fair.” His chuckle is ridiculously sexy and he takes his time pulling away. “Not fair.” Damiano wears a self-satisfied smile, knowing he’s bested you, in addition to turning you on. Perhaps two orgasams before visiting wasn’t enough, because you actually consider lunging forward and kissing him hard. Maybe that's what he wants, to bait you into action without implicating himself. It's a challenge that he doesn’t mean to pose. Regardless, you take it.

“Princess?” You make a couple high-pitched trills and she jumps on your chest. Dami is surprised to have the focus pivoted away from him. Ever the attention whore, Princess rubs her cheek against his before settling down.

“Do you think she misses me?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cause clearly, you miss me.” Sitting up, you brush the cat hair off your shirt and pull it on. Damiano makes a wounded noise in protest. 

“Looks like you’ll have to lick something else now,” you quip. By that you mean an arm or the fabric of your top, not the lightning fast comeback Dami delivers.

“I would lick something else. Now, if you’d like. Happily.” He gestures to his bed and your cunt burns, despite cunnilingus not even being an option. 

“You’re funny.”

“I couldn’t be more serious.”

“Pretty sure intercourse is against the rules. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’m pretty sure that's what they think we’re doing right now,” he grins. Horrified, you yank the door open while Dami cackles. Luckily, he manages to catch Princess before she makes a run for it. Her short leash hangs on the bedpost closest to you. In a whisper, he repeats an earlier phrase while reaching for it.

“Did I say you were allowed to blush that pretty?” For a moment you’re speechless and sweaty. He sets Princess down and holds out the leash. Your mind is too preoccupied to realize that he’s offering it to you. Dami smirks as he steps out into the hallway. You try to think of some little gesture or a phrase that will do to him what he’s done to you. Everything that comes to mind is either not good enough, or too public. You’re fumbling and he loves to watch you lust for him.

“You want to have some gelato outside?” 

“If you promise to be civil.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that does not suggest compliance. You decide to be crude rather than clever, pinching his ass right before he steps into the hallway. Damiano yelps and jumps half a foot in the air, as does Princess. 

“Oops.” You skirt around him before he gets the chance to return the favor, skipping towards the stairs. The building was grand, with a high, intricately carved ceiling. Behind you, Dami was speed walking, Princess struggling to keep up. He ends up having to stop and scoop her off the floor, by which time you’re waiting at the end of the hall with a devilish smile. Maybe you were destined to play games of chase like this, until you trusted things enough to be caught.

His eyes scan the surroundings twice before growling, “c’mere.” You shake your head and hop down the steps as soon as he nears touching distance. It's not like Dami could grope you in the common areas where everyone gathered between meals and therapies, but this space was empty. You look over your shoulder, undecided if you’ll let him catch you, and he can see that indecision. Suddenly, it feels like a not so innocent game of prey and predator. Your focus oscillates between Dami and your feet walking backwards down the steps.

“Y/n, behind you!” You freeze and see a frail woman who could be anywhere from 40-70 years old with an amused expression. She was climbing up the stairs, minding her business, like a normal person.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. Uh…sorry,” you cringe. First you flatten yourself against the railing, then realize she might need the railing. Already the woman has silently moved to the opposite side of the staircase. Dami’s nose is scrunched up in embarrassment, too.

“Lovely cat,” she murmurs so quietly only Dami realizes she's spoken.

“Oh, thank you!” His normal voice booms through the foyer in comparison. Damiano glances at Princess, as if noticing her for the first time, then sets her down. She meows just before her splayed paws hit carpet and looks up in apparent disappointment. 

“Come on, Miss Sassy Pants.” Once he’s in lock step, you lean over and whisper, “do you know that lady?”

“Mm-mm, she’s new.” His tightly controlled expressions indicate the obvious, that notoriety is a taboo subject in the facility. 

“Have people given you any trouble?”

“Thank god, no. The other patients have been in their own worlds for a while. Plus, no internet access, remember? Lord knows what they’re saying about me.”

“Really nice, genuine, complimentary things,” you deadpan. 

“Oh, really? That's a relief.” The paparazzi were publishing every sallow picture after a night out they could get their hands on, and even better if there was a model in the frame. Alot of the pictures were with women he’d never slept with, and while simply hung-over, not high. Of course that didn't matter. The more they had to recycle material, the more preposterous the claims got. 

“Last week they said you’ve been away managing a secret sex cult, not in rehab.” He scoffs as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Could be worse, I guess. Or less interesting.”

“Yeah…until the claims that it was mostly 16-year-olds started up.” Damiano stops in his tracks with an expression like he’s drunk sour milk. “But it got disproved in like a day! Fans started leaving horrendous reviews on the tabloid sites. Some of them were actually really funny…” You trial off, because Damiano is visibly seething. “Hey, literally no one believed it, Dam.”

“But the fact that they even thought it was acceptable to publish that, with absolutely no evidence, like it was news makes me sick. We always consciously avoided the groupie narrative and now…” He throws his hands up in frustration. 

“Pop culture doesn’t differentiate between a womanizer and a predator because it's normalized that sex be coerced. That's on society, not you.” 

“Maybe I’ll say something to that effect as part of my great rebranding. God it's just…” he stares at the carpet and scowls, mulling it over. “I don’t want to be angry, right now, while you’re visiting, this just really, really pisses me off.” After personally giving dubious and questionable consent in his mid-teens, the subject was a sore spot for Dami. He was very intentional about never doing that to someone else.     

“Maybe you can sue them for character deformation? Use the publicity to bolster releasing an In Nome Del Padre type single?” 

“Now there's an idea,” he allows a sliver of a smile.

“It would sure suck if paparazzi started harassing the journalist who wrote the article after seeing them in court.”

“Now that would be a great tragedy.”

“Perhaps there would even be a support group, for the fellow grievers.”

“I think that’s called a party.”

“I’ll bring the balloons if you bring the cake?”

“Deal,” he finally grins. “Christ,I can’t even…” Damiano shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Maybe I don’t miss the internet.”

“Porn.”

“Good point…But mostly I miss my camera roll.” You try not to turn red.

“Certain pictures on your phone make me very nervous.” 

“They are very safe.” According to many technological precautions you didn’t understand, Damiano’s camera roll was highly secure. But more so you trusted that, as a Dom, he’d never let images of you being Little be viewed by anyone. Yes you were happily non-monogamous, but as dominant, Damiano fucking lived for the fact that he didn’t share your submission. The polyamory was completely separate from your personal daddy/sub dynamic. 

What he got off on most of all wasn’t the nudes, or necessarily kink, but pictures he’d carefully orchestrated of you having sex together. After getting consent, he’d set up the phone camera with a random timer. Not knowing when the picture was going to be taken meant you couldn’t pose. Rather than his usual rhythm, Dami gave you as much stimulation as possible right out the gate, so you’d forget the camera by the time he found a slow groove. Then he’d rev the sex back up with tantric work, toys, dirty talk, and considerate angles. 

The result were images of you sweaty, flushed, gasping, half cognizant, and blissed out. Either captured at a moment of tension, or the release right after. They were not pretty. If you were kissing it could be downright ugly. Damiano always looked just as fucked out, but he wore it like a sex god. Sometimes, the full body shots of you on top felt beautiful, but he never preferred those. Dami loved the gaping mouth, furrowed brow face you made when rubbing your clit against him the exact right way. He’d excitedly point out the crescent-shaped nail marks on his chest you left when dragging your slick pussy along his pubic bone for the sake of orgasmic friction. In real life, or in the pictures.

“You didn’t delete them?” Dami stops in his tracks, face revealing that he hadn’t thought about this until now.

“Should I have?” he says slowly.

“I guess not. I didn’t set up a contingency, so it wasn’t violating anything. I just thought since we were – are, that you wouldn’t want…I mean you had access to all – wait did you take pictures with other people?” Exchanging and creating sexual images with other partners wasn’t even a conversation because of the fame. Now your voice comes out wounded and accusatory at the thought of him sharing this practice during your time apart.

“Not…” He guides you towards the empty kitchen to finish the conversation, as you wear an expression of shock. Intimate photography had only existed between you two out of necessity, not because you forbade it with other partners. It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realized this closed practice had created territorialism. You’d fallen right into the trap of monogamy – of wanting exclusive rights to Damiano’s sexual autonomy – at the first opportunity possible.  The hum of the refrigerator and Dami’s hand on your mid-back bring you to the present. Princess is meowing persistently, probably because this is where her food is stored. 

“You know what, it's almost dinner time. I’ll just feed her now so she’ll stop bothering us.”

“If it's almost dinner then I should go. Our time is up. I –”

“Y/n.” He holds you by the shoulders with intimidatingly intense eye contact. “I was not using sex in a healthy way. I was using it like drugs, okay? It was mostly inebriated and mediocre. Yes, I did photograph it on the rare occasion I was sober-ish and gave a fuck, but those photos never made it onto my phone.  Pictures preserve memories. There was nothing about that time I wanted to remember, especially how I acted.” He crouches down to pet Princess, self-soothing, and you hop up on the counter for something to do. Dami pulls a little metal dish from under the fridge and her meows only intensify. 

“I know, I know. It's happening. I’m getting your fancy dinner, babygirl.” He pulls open the door and the cool air hits your skin. “So I’ve been thinking about how our relationship is at a point where it's gonna evolve a lot.”

“Agreed.” Dami grabs ground, raw meat and a couple of plastic pump bottles out of the refrigerator.

“So even if we were to take a couple hours and hash our relationship all the way out,” he uses a measuring cup to transfer the meat to the bowl, “a week from now it might be…a totally different um, thing.”

“Right, and what’s that stuff?”

“Beef?” Damiano looks over his shoulder while washing his hands and raises an eyebrow.

“No, the bottles.”

“Oh! It’s fish oil, plus vitamins and supplements for her coat, her bones, her eyesight.” 

“Princess, the immortal, spoiled feline.”

“That's the idea, yeah.” She circles Dami’s legs, meowing incessantly, until he sets her bowl down.

“But, I agree about how fast our relationship will be evolving. I guess, ideally we’d sit down each time it felt like something had shifted, but that sounds…”

“Like a lot?”

“Exhausting. Doing the full negotiation while you’re still in the early days of recovery sounds emotionally overwhelming to be honest. And I’d like to say, ‘can’t we just agree to love each other with dignity and reverence,’ but that seems naive.” Damiano thinks for a few seconds, putting things back in the fridge.

“I’m,” he gestures with his hands “sort of doing a reset towards my – well, our fundamental principles. Because I really wasn’t conducting myself in a way I was proud of for several months there. And I want to talk about it.” He takes the gelato container from the refrigerator and retrieves a spoon. “Or rather I’m willing to talk about it” Dami grumbles while fighting with the lid. He finally manages to remove it, revealing the creamy, light green color. 

“Okay, this is gonna sound so cheesy, but I couldn’t eat gelato while we were broken up.” Using some grip strength, he digs the first spoonful out.

“Oh my gosh, Damia.” It’d been so long since you’d last felt butterflies. (Which you’d never outright attribute partially to him speaking in the past tense). Technically you were still broken up, but it didn’t feel like it. This was some uncomfortable in between, a limbo. However, Damiano didn’t call you broken up to his band mates, even though that label had definitely been put on your relationship in a mutual decision. 

“What's that face?” he passes you a spoonful. The handle is warm from his grip.

“You didn’t tell anyone we were broken up, did you?” He can see from your smile that you aren’t upset, which just makes him bashful. It's a rare occurrence to see Damiano David bashful. “Hah! You’re adorable.” He stares at his shoes while you enjoy the first taste of gelato. “Mister megastardom is blushing.”

“No, I’m not blushing. Shut up,” he grins. “And I may have, possibly…um, avoided using that particular label as much as possible. So yeah, I have said it, but I’ve also avoided it, to be honest. Vic has gotten good at hiding the visible pity in her expression, but Thomas especially has a ways to go.” You pry a spoonful out of the container and feed it to Dami. He stands between your legs, hands resting just above your knees.

“I propose that we are officially not broken up.”

“So then we are…”

“Not broken up.”

“Okay…” His tone is unsure, but he allows one of those precious smiles that reveal his gums and offers another up more gelato. “So are we friends?” As it melts in your mouth, you contemplate the requirements for friendship. It became too painful to continue relationships with a couple of my friends who were super into the club scene and bordering on substance abuse. But Dami was sober.

“Or no? Needing to allocate all my focus to staying sober and repairing my mistakes may not make me a very good friend.” He’s self aware and gracious which makes the decision harder. You scoop the gelato with so much gusto that it nearly ends on the floor.

“But consciousness about substance misuse and commitment to repairing relationships are really vital to my friendships right now.” You raise another spoonful to his lips. This time it takes Damiano a second to accept it. “So I don’t know, but it's really important that I do know.”

“Hey.” In a comforting gesture, Dami slides his hands up your thighs and leans in to make more meaningful eye contact. “I don’t want to exhaust you with this, sweetheart. I –” his self-awareness kicks in and he takes a step back, hands purposefully occupying themselves with the spoon and container. “We are roommates and you’ve already told me, in detail, your boundaries on that.”

“On your sobriety! There aren’t supposed to be hard rules in relationships!” You're exasperated and Damiano isn’t offended. Instead, he taps your lip with the spoon as a reminder to open your mouth.

“We are intentionally repairing our bond to work towards a relationship.” You nod and take a deep breath, feeling calmer. The gelato is beginning to melt, runny around the edges. If it overflows the container will never get un-sticky.   

   “You should put that in the freezer.” He sighs and stops meeting your eyes. The top of the container is stiff. Damiano carelessly tosses the shared spoon into the sink and the metallic sound is so loud that it makes you jump. He spins around right away with an anxious expression.

“Sorry, sorry! That wasn’t intentional, I’m just not used to having a metal sink. It’s basically always filled with water for doing dishes. I wasn’t tryna be intimidating or some bullshit. I’m sorry. I –” whispering to himself, Dami says “what the fuck is wrong with you” He clips Princess back onto her leash and loops it over the knob on a cupboard.

“That wasn’t me trying to change the subject, Damia. I got yelled at so many times for letting the gelato melt that it's like a Pavlovian response.”

“Okay.” He relaxes his shoulders, resuming his previous stance.

“Okay,” you repeat with a small smile.

“We know how to do right by each other and we’re on the same page. You’ve updated your boundaries. As far as I know, mine are the same. I’m sure shit will come up, but we’re good at communicating.” Unexpectedly, serenity washes over you at once again reaching cohesion. It was a familiar sensation with Dami, to be grounded in the presence of each other. He takes a deep breath in as well. 

“Nesting partners. It’s a label I’ve learned, but I know you’re not big into terminology.”

“No, tell me what it means.”

“It's the companion you live with. Not necessarily your primary.”

“Sounds like something from a documentary about birds.”

“It does,” you laugh. “Anyways, if you wanted a word for us, that’d be it.” 

“Are you asking me to be your nesting partner?” Subconsciously, he leans forward out of excitement, hands sliding halfway up your thighs.

“And you’re willing to have David Attenborough narrate your every shit for National Geographic broadcasting?” 

“Totally.” You suppress the urge to kiss Dami and instead pointedly look down at his hands, now creeping towards your hips.

“Well, then…”

“Shit, sorry. Sorry.” He stands upright, tries to put his hands in his pockets, then realizes these pants don’t actually have pockets. “I wasn’t trying to make a move or – I mean, I wasn’t thinking about it. I’m just really used to touching you.” Cue heartbeat skip.

“Trust me, I get it. Like when –”

The moment is interrupted by movement just outside of the kitchen. You push Damiano back by a hand in the center of his chest so things weren’t so intimate.

“Ah, there you are! Hiding from me!”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Dami defends, in a way you recognize as bluffing. A staff member, this time dressed in slacks and a wrinkled, blue button-up, walks into the kitchen. He’s amused, not frustrated, which is a small mercy. Maybe Dami doesn’t realize how close your bodies are, maybe he likes it, but you can’t get off the counter without running into him.

“Sorry, I’ll go.” You push him back again, and this time he finally heeds your request. 

“Don’t worry about it. It's just behavioral therapy,” he murmurs, as you adjust your trousers self-consciously. 

“Sounds pretty fucking important for an addict.”

“I would have to agree with y/n. I’m Dr. Rossi. I haven’t spoken with you personally, but I’ve heard so much about you from everyone.” He clasps his hands and looks at Dami expectantly. 

“Right, so they’ll have my purse and stuff at the front desk. So I’ll just –”

“How late am I?”

“13 minutes,” he replies, looking at his expensive watch with a flourish.

“Eh, damage is done. Let me walk you out.” Dr. Rossi nods curtly, gesturing at you to go forth first. Ignoring this, Dami takes his time grabbing Princess’ leash in one hand and yours in the other.

“What do you mean ‘damage done?’”.

“They write me up if I’m more than 5 minutes late. Then there’s a worse penalty at 10 minutes. At 20 it doesn’t count and I get billed for a missed session. Plus they scowl at me for a couple days.”

“Damia,” you groan. He shrugs and nods hello to someone else walking a snow white cat on a neon green leash. 

“That's Yeti. He’s a dog inside a feline’s body, plays fetch.”

“Okay, well thats fucking adorable, but you’re not gonna distract me from blowing off your therapist.” He sighs heavily as you reach the doors. 

“It's one appointment. Everything here is scheduled. I get the purpose, but I feel claustrophobic. You make me feel the opposite of that. Plus, even with visitor privileges, I’m only guaranteed one half hour slot every two weeks.” 

“Oh, your parents.”

“Uh, no. My mom can adequately berate me over the phone. I just fucking miss you and your energy.”

“But your dad…”

“She has him by the balls.” Damiano tries to shove his hands in his pockets again and looks at the floor. Sensing his stress, Princess sits on his shoe and gazes upwards. Only one of them feels like a caged animal and ironically it's not the one on the leash.

“Maybe I can talk to them?” He shakes his head, looking off to the side now instead of meeting your eyes. It was such an obvious tell.

“I don’t want you to spend your time doing that. In a way, I was the golden boy until this. I don’t know how she’s gonna react and I don’t want your feelings hurt on my account.” You momentarily consider proposing speaking to Damiano’s father, then realize that might feel like a betrayal to Andrea.

“It’s just a matter of time?”

“Yeah,” he agrees softly, pursing his lips.

“She’ll change her mind once you’ve been sober for a while,” you reassure, not knowing if it's true. He finally meets your gaze, cocking his head to the side, seeing straight through your empty platitude. Lost for words, you hug Dami, careful not to step on Princess’ paws. She seems content at the sight of her parents embracing. Or maybe you’re just deflecting your own emotions.

Three months ago you’d have called bullshit at anyone claiming Damiano would be setting a sobriety record, that being wrapped in his arms would feel so right and organic. You savor his smell and relax with an exhale as his hug tightens. For some reason the intrusive thoughts always bubbled up at greetings and farewells. The day's emotion, however positive, would probably result in nightmares tonight.

“I’m alive. I’m okay. I’m in love with you,” he murmurs, as if reading your mind.

“Ditto.”

“You don’t need to be okay.” Finally, amidst all the terror around Dami’s health, you ask yourself the question. Am I okay? Nightmares, severe and occasionally uncontrollable anxiety, mental stress from lacking a dom, general stress because of Damiano. A job that was supposed to be fulfilling, but made you too feel like a polar bear in a gray, plastic enclosure.

“What is it,” he murmurs.

“Shit, I don’t know if I’m okay,” you choke. The wave of emotion is so unexpected that it feels like getting jumped. 

“I’m going to take care of you. It's a relief to have the opportunity to take care of you.” The inner peace from earlier is harder to access than you like. Maybe you’d have to ration it.

“I’m gonna leave before I turn into a mess again,” you speak into the fabric of his tank top. Princess cocks her head to the side, and you miss her persistent little presence with a pang in your gut. You pull away and squat down to bid her farewell, stroking between her ears.

“I’ll see you soon, Sassy Pants.” As you straighten up, it's obvious Damiano is deeply conflicted. “I don’t want to let you leave like this. I want to make it all better.”

“It is better. It’s not perfect.” You stroke his face, then his hair. It’s at awkward length, spiking up at random angles. This touch prompts Dami to rub his head self-consciously. 

“It looks like shit.”

“It looks fine. You look good.” That, at least, earns a smile. It’s a better note to end on, so you decide to make your exit. Nervously slipping out was certainly easier than a ceremonious goodbye like this.

“I’m gonna go before you get a missed appointment fee.”

“Fuck the fee,” he responds ardently. You can feel the mood swing coming, but the volatility of his emotions makes them hard to read. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Damia,” you whine, heart clenching.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary. Drive safe.” He bows his head to avoid your eyes. Wanting to make the leaving a little sweeter, you peck his cheek. 

“Bye Princess.” Less than a month and you won’t have to fight the urge to look back, because you’ll be walking out together. No more Orpheus and Eurydice. This is what ultimately sustains you as the heavy maple door falls shut. The sky – clear when you entered the building – is now plagued with clouds.  

Notes: Whew! The longest chapter yet and we sure covered a lot of ground with these two. Cutting it pretty close posting this late in the day, but I made it. I got distracted by giving my taglist a makeover and quite probably making it worse. Oh well.

- XOXO, Eden

Get on my taglist! (hard edition)

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostpersona @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx @harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess133 @persona1read1ng @katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow @icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk @elvirabelle @bright-shiningstar @maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666 @que--sera--sera @dustyinkpages@lapauradelcheez@girlnred @ami--gami

*@zahra10999 I can't tag you! Double check that your Tumblr isn't hidden from search results. If it's not, contact the Tumblr Help Center so they can fix this glitch.

#cw: addiction #cw: power dynamics #maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #må #damiano #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david smut #damiano david fic

[uchihabbynic]

Imagine: You and your childhood best friend, Ichigo Kurosaki have a situation-ship and you’re dying to know the dreaded yet infamous question... what are we?

Pairing: Ichigo Kurosaki x Fem! Reader

Content: eventual smut (18+ content), vaginal sex, fingering, lots of kissing, cavity inducing fluff, fluff and more fluff! wholesome date night at home w/ Ichi, references drug use/smoking, best friends to lovers obvi <3

a/n: my first ever Bleach fic! This was super self-indulgent and has been sitting in my drafts for months. There’s not enough Ichigo content on this app so I needed to show my ginger boy some love 🧡 

You and Ichigo stood side by side in your bathroom, heads leaned over in your respective porcelain bowls, rinsing away the white cleansing foam from your faces as your hips swayed from side to side to the deafening bass coming from your Alexa speaker from your bedroom. “Drizzy Draco” blared so obnoxiously loud, your neighbors definitely hated you. 

“Remind me again why I have this ridiculous thing on my head?” The Kurosaki scowled and pointed at the fuzzy white cat ear headband that was expertly pushing back his messy pile of long tangerine locks. He grabbed a nearby towel, wiping his face and turned to face you; arm resting on the white countertop. 

You chuckled, still swaying to the music, now wiping your own face dry; reaching for the small black circular container of your favorite Rosy Cheeks face mask. 

“Because. You’re the prettiest kitty I've ever seen.” you taunted and stuck your tongue out in jest, reaching out to pinch his cheeks that were burning red to which he swatted you away. 

“Shut up.” Ichigo playfully pushed your shoulder back, his orange brows still furrowed together. 

Laughter erupted from your throat. “It’s actually to keep your hair out of your face, silly.” 

Teasing Ichigo had been a favorite pastime of yours for many years and God, he was so easy to fuck with. 

“Also - can we turn this shitty music off?” Ichigo groaned, shuffling to the bedroom to find the “off” button on your speaker to which you followed quickly behind him rolling your eyes at your pretty, yet dramatic grumpy boy. 

“Damn. Put the claws away, kitty.” you retorted to the redhead who then glared at you, unamused. Truthfully? He loved your teasing. He loved everything about you even when you were giving him a hard time.

“Hey Alexa. Next song.” you commanded to the small white device to which it began playing a tune by The Weeknd you quite loved; Die For You.

“There. Much more chill.” Ichigo said, breathing a sigh of relief as he followed you back into your bathroom and rested his backside on the counter. “What next, y/n?” he inquired.

“Close your eyes.” 

One brow rose as Ichigo carefully eyed you, suspicious of what kind of antics  you were up to. You caught a sense of his apprehension as you took a step closer to him, just barely closing the gap between your body and his. 

You huffed. “Do you trust me?” you asked, slightly frustrated, crossing your arms over your chest, pushing your cleavage together that was once hidden and buried deep within the cotton oversized shirt you wore. 

Ichigo parted his lips to respond when he paused momentarily; his eyes quickly averting down to the now prominent curvature of your breasts - his Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed harder than usual; he felt his cheeks burn once again, painting his tanned skin a pretty shade of scarlet as your warm breath tickled his neck.

“Mhm.” he mumbled as he shifted his eyes literally anywhere else but your chest. A sense of embarrassment washed over him as he awkwardly tried to clear his throat. If he could crawl out of his own skin, he would’ve as he sat patiently awaiting your response, hoping you didn't notice his indecent looks at your figure. 

You and Ichigo had gone on plenty of dates over the past 3 months thanks to the help of Rukia, Yuzu and Karen who bullied him into growing a pair and finally asking you out after all these years but from very early on in your romantic relationship, the two of you had never taken it to a level past heavy make out sessions and even that only recently became a semi-regular occurrence. 

Ichigo wasn’t inexperienced in this department, but you were always his friend before his lover so the idea of the two of you pushing the boundaries and going further than the innocence of kissing had always been an overwhelming thought, to say the least.

“Great, so eyes closed Kurosaki.” you demanded once more, voice slightly raised. You stuck your finger into the black container scooping out the baby pink mud and slathering it across Ichigo’s cheek. The moment that the thick, chilled cream slid across his face, his tall figure jolted in shock feeling the unexpected coolness on his skin.

“What the hell is this, woman?” He cried, trying his best to stay calm. He peeked one eye open only to be greeted by your grinning face and a finger covered in a pink substance that he wasn't familiar with, although he very much enjoyed the scent. His heart skipped a beat to see how much you were enjoying yourself. He was a sucker for your smile, after all. 

Ichigo was the CEO of acting perpetually bothered by anything he didn’t deem to be “cool” but deep down, he ate it up. Every weird quirk, every goofy activity you begged and pulled him into - he was secretly going to enjoy every moment because he got to be in your presence. His favorite place to be. 

“A face mask, stupid.” you playfully snapped back as you continued to smear the cream all over his face, careful to not get any product in the random tufts of orange hair peeking out from the headband.

 “It’ll make your skin feel calm & soothed.”

“Hmpf.” Ichigo decided against any further snarky comments and finally fell in line with the evening's activities. He stood with his body relaxed against the countertops, his legs slightly spread allowing just enough room for your body to fit between them as you finished his face mask and began working on your own. 

Ichigo watched you intently as you spread the mud over your own face. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at how adorable you looked with your sunshine yellow headband with matching cat ears, similar to his own. 

She’s so pretty like this, she has no idea.

Thoughts of fondness swirled his brain as he admired your every move. Every drip of pink mud you dropped into the sink, every hand motion, every shake of the head to adjust your hair from getting caught in the sticky face product, he adored. 

You caught a glimpse of those gorgeous chocolatey eyes that were filled with warmth and admiration as you noticed that Ichigo was unbelievably focused on you doing something so simple. So regular.

“Ichi...” you began, turning your head to face the ginger. “What are you staring at?”

Shit. I must’ve zoned out. 

“Uhh. zoned out, I guess.” he shrugged and tried to play it cool, dropping his head to the floor cursing at himself that he missed a perfectly good opportunity to compliment you; to tell you how beautiful you are with your t-shirt that fits way too big and your messy hair that sat atop your head. 

He could have said literally anything else but choked, as words of affirmation had never been his strong suit and proclaiming his feelings? Forget about it. The vulnerability of pouring out his heart made his skin crawl but lately he had been trying to be more vocal about how he really felt for you, slowly but surely. He decided that he would merely try, for you.

“Well, can you go get the snacks Strawberry head?” you laughed, inspecting yourself in the large mirror in front of you, brushing off the sudden nervous energy Kurosaki was giving off. 

Ichigo blushed at the nickname that he pretended to hate but secretly loved and left towards the kitchen to hunt for the endless amount of snacks you always had stocked in your pantry. As he passed behind the couch, he caught a glimpse of comforters and pillows littering the living room floor where the two of you would be spending the remainder of the evening. He had the idea to turn the random pile of sheets into a fortress, grabbing nearby chairs and any items he could find that would provide a stable base for the pillow fort he dreamt up. 

You rinsed your face after letting the mask sit for another few minutes and began slathering on an array of serums and liquids to regain moisture in your skin; a step you knew Ichigo wouldn’t have the patience for. You massaged your go-to night cream into your supple skin and tore off the headband - quickly brushing through the hair that had already begun to tangle being in a high bun for so long. 

After completing your bedtime routine, you popped your head out of your bedroom to find a pink, crackly faced Ichigo who A. had rearranged and tore your living room to pieces and B. Let his face mask sit way too long.

“A pillow fort?!” you gasped and clapped with delight as you approached the mountain of blankets that Ichi had intricately sprawled across the living space. Ichigo walked over to you with a grin, proud of what he’d done. This was something that the two of you used to do together as kids, so it made the gesture that much more special.

“I figured it’d make you smile.” Ichigo expressed, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your body close to his. He observed the way you routinely scrunched your nose whenever you got excited and he swore his heart momentarily stopped. 

“Ichi… It’s perfect.” You tightly gripping Ichigo’s hip bone allowing your body to melt into his as you stood back admiring his work. 

You gave Kurosaki all the praises for his cute gesture before telling him the mask had run its course and that he needed to rinse it off. As you made yourself comfortable inside the cavern of blankets, you mindlessly scrolled through Netflix trying to find a movie to put on while shoving pretzel sticks into your mouth, awaiting Ichigo’s return. 

Ichigo had eventually walked back into the living room where you resided, dropping to his hands and knees, careful to not let his tall stature drag the whole fort down with him, doing his best to settle himself comfortably next to you. 

Your eyes were so fixated on the TV screen that it hadn’t occurred to you that you were now perched beside a half naked Ichigo who was only still wearing cotton sweat shorts but no shirt. Your mouth slightly dropped open in shock as you sharply inhaled, sending your half eaten food down your throat. You sputtered and coughed trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Dammit! Are you alright?!” he exclaimed, tossing you a bottle of unopened water and gently patting your back, those yummy muscles flexing with every movement. You quickly gulped the liquid, thankful that you were finally able to catch your breath.

“This sexy bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.” You thought to yourself as you feast your eyes on a shirtless Ichigo. His rippling 6 pack laid out on his wonderfully sun kissed skin and those damn sweat shorts that hung teasingly low off his hips made you lightheaded. You were sure you’d caught a glimpse of his dick print and you could feel your pussy slightly spasm on its own accord. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine.” you stuttered, nonchalantly wiping your sweaty palms on the comforter beneath you, still in shock that your best friend had developed into a fine ass grown man. 

Seeing Ichigo this way stirred something new in you. A longing. A feeling within the depths of your loins that you’d never experienced before, at least - not for him. You lusted for him. You wanted his strong hands to explore and glide across every bit of your feverish skin not leaving a single place untouched. You wanted to experience all of him; mind, body and spirit. You were suddenly aching to see what was hiding underneath the fabric that adorned his sculpted body. The man who’d previously stood in your bathroom with goofy cat ears on his head is now sitting before you looking like a fiery Greek God. 

“What movie, babe?” The redhead casually asked, scooting closer to you on the blanket, shoulder nudging you out of your thoughts; his thumb resting on the Hulu button on the remote. 

“Mmm, do you really wanna watch a movie, Kurosaki?” you purred right next to his ear, causing his face to flush - caught off guard but quick to catch onto your tempting suggestion to do something a little more interesting. 

You slid your body in front of Ichigo’s, completely blocking the view of the TV and leaned in mere inches to his face, causing him to drop the remote, not expecting the sudden closeness. 

“Isn’t there something else you’d enjoy a bit more?” you teased, attaching your lips to his, giving a quick peck without allowing him a chance to respond to your requests. 

“Sure is.” he agreed, reaching for your waist and hoisting your upper body from the floor and onto his lap. The way he manspreads in his shorts allowed plenty of space for that ass that he loved so much to settle right on top of his manhood.

 “-But i could show you better than I could tell you.” he smirked, digging his fingers into your flesh.

Your legs were spread on either side of his muscular thighs, feeling the tickle of his wispy strawberry blonde hairs on your own silky smooth legs as you slinked your arms around his neck and reattached your lips to his. Ichigo wrapped his long arms around your midsection pulling you close to his chest as you swiped across his lips to gain access to his sweet mouth.

You ran your fingers along his bare chest and began slowly gyrating your hips while sat perched on top of his lap, pushing your ass further into the now growing bulge in his shorts causing him to swiftly inhale at the pressure on his cock. Your heart beat faster as you deepened the kiss; your tongues swirled each other as if in a dance for dominance, tasting every bit of the cool mintiness that lived in Ichigo’s mouth and consumed his every breath.

You felt his dick twitch within the confines of the fabric underneath you causing you to grip onto his neck much tighter than before. A deep, raspy chuckle left his mouth, but he didn’t say a word and let his actions speak for themselves. Ichigo dipped his head down and pressed his warm mouth to your collarbone, peppering delicate kisses across the tender area, evoking a series of quiet whimpers to fall from your lips. 

That was it. That spot was all you needed. Little did he know, collarbone kisses were your weakness and goddamn, were you putty in this man's strong hands.

Your fingers grew impatient and jittery, immediately finding their way to the waistband of his gray sweat shorts, boldly tugging; eager to pull his cock out in all its glory. The rush of it all quickly sent you into a spiral without a second to think, however; Ichigo instantly gripped your wrist as your fingers were already hooked deep into his shorts. 

“We don’t… have to.” Ichigo assured you as he tried to calm his now erratic breathing. His crimson hair just barely shaded those gorgeous eyes that were now staring deeply into your own; full of concern. He wanted you so badly. He had fantasized about this moment with you for far longer than he’d like to admit but wanted to be sure you weren’t feeling any pressure to take things further. 

“Please, Ichi… I need you.” The certainty in your voice was enough to cause Ichigo to slide his shorts down to his ankles, freeing his massive cock from the fabric. 

Your eyes grew wide as your gaze was fixated on the girth, the length, the precum that pooled at the red tip. You were so enamored, you could have swore that drool had formed in the corners of your mouth. You quickly threw your t-shirt over your head causing your breasts to fall freely out and slipped your own shorts off as you settled your head on a nearby pillow. 

“Fuck, you’re absolutely beautiful.” he breathed out, lust filled eyes blown wide as he towered over you perched on his knees. He couldn’t believe the wonderful view he had; your naked figure fully exposed - ready for him. He noticed the glistening slick that pooled between your legs and he beamed at himself, proud that he’d already gotten you to that point without having barely done a thing. 

You smiled and reached up, tangling your fingers into his messy tangerine hair pulling his body close to yours until he was fully on top of you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips before pulling away to admire you once more. He reached down and swiped a finger along your wet folds, causing you to whimper and shudder underneath him. 

“You’re already so wet for me, goddamn.” he mumbled. His chest burned and felt as if it was going to cave in. His dick was rock hard and throbbing and Ichigo needed you to be writhing and screaming his name the way he’d imagined in his dreams.

“Please… more.” you moaned in response to his fingers exploring your heat already beginning to clench around him. He plunged 2 digits deep inside of you feeling your juices coat his knuckles, eager to loosen you up for his cock. 

Your mouth hung open causing your throat to go dry and hoarse as Ichigo continued to sink his fingers inside your pussy. He leaned up and attached his warm mouth to your larger breast, skillfully sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, letting the melodic sounds of your moans fill his ear. 

That night, Ichigo had taken you to heaven when he stuffed you full of his thick cock, whispering sweet nothings in your ear about how much he’s needed you and how much you mean to him with a dash of naughty praise. 

“You. feel. S-so good. y/n.” Ichigo whined in between each thrust; his shaky breath an indicator that he was close to his climax. Ichi was lost in bliss, stuffed between your luscious thighs, savoring the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your gushy walls. Absolutely nothing felt better to him than being inside of you. 

As you repeatedly called out for him, your lover took you higher and higher in ecstasy. When Ichigo’s eyes weren’t screwed shut from the intense waves of pleasure that crashed into his body one after the other, he shyly made eye contact with you through the last few thrusts he could muster. It was all too overwhelming and you were absolutely stunning.

 In your final moments together, the air was filled with the sounds of his heavy balls slapping your ass and sensual chants of his name alongside a slew of curses. His orange hair clung messily to his forehead as he pumped at a steady rhythm, giving it everything he’s got; feeling his red, swollen tip kiss your cervix. Your toes curled as you cried out Ichigo’s name for a final time, letting your body melt into the mound of pillows beneath you as your orgasm hit you, clawing mercilessly at Ichigo’s back, creating red welts that were certain to scar. 

The ginger soon pulled out; his pretty flushed face contorted and immediately spilled his seed onto your tummy, labored pants and a moan of your name accompanied his climax before placing a gentle kiss on your lips - getting lost in your natural aroma before collapsing breathlessly next to you. 

There was a comfortable silence between you and Ichigo as you redressed yourself by slipping into his large distressed tee. What could you say? You’d been casually dating your childhood best friend for the last few months and now you’d crossed a huge line in your relationship without knowing exactly “what you were”. It was confusing to say the least. You called each other pet names, gave sweet kisses to one another, went on dates… all the things - but the newfound added complication in your “relationship” is one that made your head begin to hurt trying to figure it out. You needed a smoke to clear your mind but it almost felt like there was nothing that could pull you from the depths of your thoughts, replaying the erotic scene that just occurred in your living room.

 Hues of white and gold twinkled brightly as they hung methodically on the wooden banister of your balcony illuminating the space that was otherwise consumed by darkness. You stared out into the distance trying to make sense of everything until a tall figure standing in the doorway startled you back into reality. 

“Mind if I join you?” Ichigo asked hesitantly after clearing his throat. He leaned against the balcony doorway awaiting your response, slightly fidgety. It was evident that this was heavy on his mind as well yet he couldn’t find the right words to say. 

Your smile was warm and inviting when you said, “Sure.” and motioned for him to sit in the wooden chair next to yours. The lighter you’d been clutching had flicked on as you held the pre rolled joint up to your mouth, carefully cupping the flame to light the stick. 

“So-”

Both you and Ichigo speak at the exact same time. A giggle erupted from your throat at the slightly awkward start of your conversation. Ichigo’s face immediately turned beet red therefore, he was thankful that his blush went unnoticed in the surrounding darkness. 

“You go first-” he began, nervously scratching the back of his orange locks.

“No, you-” you laughed and nudged his shoulder as you took a drag from the joint and blew the smoke in the opposite direction of your…. Boyfriend? 

“I uh, got you somethin’” The Kurosaki reached inside his hoodie pocket and pulled out a velvet blue box. He was never one for flashy gifts but taking your relationship to the next level meant showing up in ways he never had before. Ichigo’s hand shook violently as he revealed the special keepsake and presented it to you. 

Your eyes sparkled as you reached out to grab the box before slowly opening it. A hot tear pricked your eye as you saw a dainty silver chain with a heart locket hanging heavily on the end.

“Ichigo, you shouldn’t have.” your voice trembled as you inspected the adorable gift. Your heart swelled seeing a black and white photo booth picture of you and Ichigo being silly together a few months back. It was the first date you’d been on as a couple and the very first time you’d ever kissed so you deeply appreciated its sentimental value. 

“Thanks, Ichi. It’s perfect.” you say sweetly to which he leans over and kisses your temple. You immediately pushed your hair out of the way to allow the new keepsake to be clasped around your neck. You paused, clutching the jewel and holding it close to your chest as you stole a peek at Ichigo who was now blushing profusely. 

“Rukia says a way to a woman’s heart is to be more thoughtful, so…” The red head trailed off. Your heart leapt. Ichigo was such a gem and because you valued him as a figure in your life, you decided to proceed with caution. 

“You already have my heart, Ichigo… you should know that.” You said gently, reaching over to link your fingers with his trembling ones. 

“Do I?” he questioned, gripping your hand for dear life - ignoring the clamminess building from his nerves. “This is still all so new to me…” 

“Of course you do.” you replied, now shifting in your seat to directly face him. 

“But I have to wonder, what are we…? You held your breath as your joint found the ashtray; fiery embers floating away from the stick before taking another hit. 

The forwardness of your question caught Ichigo off guard as he is never one to confront his feelings head on but he could hear the confusion… the brokenness in your voice and felt that he owed it to you - just this once, to muster the strength to be honest with you and lay it all out there. 

“You’re my best friend, y/n. The person I trust the most.” Ichigo’s chocolate eyes now bore into your own as he gave you every bit of his attention, still clinging onto your fingers. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach as the words “Best Friend” rolled off his lips. 

It stung. Surely, you weren’t just his friend, right? It was vastly more complicated than that and at this point, you assumed there was no returning to the way things were before. Your face scrunched at his confession; your hand instinctively wanting to pull away from the boy who you felt had been toying with your feelings for too long.

“However, I don’t want to settle for being  just your best friend… I want more.” Ichigo finally confessed, now breaking eye-contact due to sheer embarrassment that he’d just put himself in such a vulnerable state. You stared wide eyed at Ichigo replaying the words he’d said over and over, letting them resonate in the deepest crevices of your heart.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes pricked with tears and your face felt like a furnace hearing that Ichigo Kurosaki wanted you and not just as a friend but as his girlfriend. Ichigo cracked a warm smile before continuing. 

“Never been more sure about anything else.” He beamed, giving your hand a firm squeeze. “You understand my moods, you challenge me more than anyone, you’re bold in the best of ways and you’re just, different, y/n…” Ichigo looked lovingly into your eyes, his cheeks bright red from having given every bit of emotion he could give to you. 

Your mouth hung agape as you listened to the sweet words that left his mouth, shocked that this was the same boy you’d grown up with. 

Ichigo, now aware of the fact that he had rambled a bit, laughed nervously. “I’m sorry I’d been so stubborn about my feelings in the past…-” but before he could say another word, your lips met his as a sign of your acceptance of his love and new role in your life.

“Does this mean we get to have more spa nights?” you cooed after breaking the kiss as your forehead rested on his - your boyfriend, Ichigo Kurosaki. 

“Fine, but no more kitten ears.” 

tags: @jordyn-degas​ ❤️

#ichigo kurosaki #ichigo kurosaki x reader #bleach x reader #bleach one shot #bleach smut #ichigo kurosaki smut #ichigo one shot #ichigo fluff #bleach fluff #ichigo smut

[m1ss1nsan1ty]

12/1/23; entry #001

today's song: dpr ian - welcome to the other side

dear diary,

i’ve had a lot of time to sit and ponder which led to overwhelming amounts of pent up frustration, irritation, and anxiety.

i spend a lot of my time now trying to make myself feel accomplished. crossing things off my to-do list is what’s really keeping me going.

still, no matter how many tasks i write down for myself no matter how many i complete, it still feels like time is still and that I’ve done nothing. so I’ve been partaking in a lot of my hobbies and watching a lot of tv.

the most recent show that i picked up is hulu’s The Bear which i mentioned in my get to know me tag post. honestly, there are a lot of things that i like about the show but my favorite thing is Carmy, not only do i relate to him but i do love a good tragic hero.

there are many scenes that led me to literally see myself in him but my current favorite is towards the end of S1E7 where Carmy has a heart to heart with his older sister, Sugar, and something he said really hit me.

he says, “all the time i feel like i’m kind of trapped because i can’t describe how i’m feeling.”

with all the time that i’ve had on my hands, i’ve been forced to kind of acknowledge some of the things that i would and could just ignore in my working life. i didn’t have to face these parts of me when i was focused on something bigger, but now that i just have empty time and empty space my brain has more room to do what it wants.

when Carmy said those words, i felt a sense of relief wash over me because i knew exactly what he meant…exactly what he felt. i’ve had such a hard time putting my feelings into words and not even being able to begin until it’s too late and i’m mid-breakdown.

i just felt so seen even if it was just for a moment.

thank you for reading, i hope you’re doing well.

--★

[★note: and this is so crazy cause I didn’t think I had it in me to actually post. but this was really fun and nice to actually get out of my head since it's just been dancing around up there for 12hrs. also idk how i'm feeling about writing in all lower caps but that's the vibe for now.]

#111 #m1ss1nsan1ty #diary post #diary blog #the bear

[pillow-anime-talk]

i love girls month; fifth day.

synopsis: We all know that Misa is amazing; her surprises are just as amazing. Especially the birthday ones and especially the ones for you.

# tags: scenario; friendship; b-day!au; fluff; a bit of comedy; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. misa amane {death note}

author’s note: hi :D

It was a really tough and long day; you had an important anatomy exam at university, you unfortunately spilled your coffee in the middle of the sidewalk, you forgot your breakfast that was in the fridge, you didn’t get enough sleep, and in the end you came back to your apartment later than intended. It was supposed to be your best birthday (you wanted to order pizza or sushi and then go to the club), but at the moment all you want to do is just relax – wash, go to sleep and get up in a month or two.

As soon as you opened the door to your house, you breathed a sigh of relief. You put the bag down on the bright panels, took off your warm jacket and shoes, and picked up the bag again to go to your bedroom.

You shared a two-room apartment with your best friend – Misa – who you met in elementary school. The blonde-haired teenager has always been specific, I mean, she had a different approach to the world and seemed more cheerful than other children. From the very first day of school, you liked her a lot and trusted her enough to be the first to call her your best friend. She, of course, also thought of you that way, but in her feelings she was definitely more shy than you.

But now you aren’t ashamed of yourself, there is no taboo or awkwardness between you two; you talk about everything and nothing, both the pleasant things and the less fun/good ones. You like gossiping about boys/girls/others, about college, about music, also about clothes, you love going to the gallery together, cooking and baking cakes together. You know all your secrets, and your parents probably don’t know you as well as you do each other.

Therefore on the one hand you were immensely and on the other hand you were not surprised at all that a second after crossing your bedroom, Misa threw colorful, glowing confetti at you and started singing loud birthday songs. To be honest, she wasn’t a bad singer!

“M-Misa...”

“Happy birthday, Y/N-chan! I love you very, very, very much!” She screamed even louder, then ran up to you and hugged you tightly; you instantly felt the characteristic smell of her perfume and hairspray. Small tears appeared in your eyes, because finally some pleasant thing happened to you that day. Your friend was amazing.

“I don’t know what to say, really... Thank you, Misa-chan. Did you... Did you  make a cake for me?”

“Of course I did! Come on quickly, let’s eat one piece of it, then I’ll give you your birthday present... You’ll love it, I promise! You know, I was looking for something for you for a long time that would perfectly suit your tastes and...”

Even without a gift, you were delighted and stunned at that time. 

It was something super simple; she just singing a song for you, gave you a cake in your favorite flavor and giving a gift, and then talking honestly and crying together over wine, both in sadness and in laughter. But it was yours and only yours, that’s why it was so important, intimate and wonderful to your heart.

Misa wasn’t only a wonderful roommate, but also an irreplaceable friend, an ideal drinking partner, literally a perfect partner in crime, a wonderful girl, a fantastic model and idol, a one-of-a-kind sister from another mother. And most of all, she was right next to you, which is why you were indescribably grateful to the higher powers that you could spend this year’s birthday with her.

previous day ; mitsuri kanroji from demon slayer ♡ next day ; nemu aohitsugi from hypnosis mic

#— 👠 #i love girls month #i love girls challenge #death note #death note imagines #death note scenarios #death note x reader #death note x you #death note x y/n #misa amane #misa amane imagines #misa amane scenarios #misa amane x reader #misa amane x you #misa amane x y/n

[ptergwen]

jingle your bells

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of drinking and a suggestive joke

summary: peter gets drunk at tony’s christmas party and confesses a thing or two

a/n: today’s the day yayyy merry christmas guys i hope you’ve gotten and gave some good stuff!! i hope you’re all staying safe too <3 this was requested as a headcanon but i put a twist on it because why not

━━━ ➳❥

your dad loves parties. hosting them, attending them, crashing them. he’s actually known for it.

this year, he’s throwing a little party for christmas. everyone at the compound is coming, but there’s someone you care about more than the rest. peter. he’s one of your favorite people and closest friends.

your crush, too.

these things can be a bit overwhelming, so the two of you always stick together. you’ll sometimes sneak upstairs to your room and binge movies with pajamas and all kinds of junk food. it’s your own party in a way. you two enjoy the time you don’t spend at the real ones more than anything.

thor and bruce are currently doing their own rendition of all i want for christmas. your dad made the mistake of setting up karaoke. you laugh along, natasha dragging them in every way possible. steve snaps to the beat. wanda is covering her face in second hand embarrassment. vision offers tips that he searched every possible database for.

sam and bucky took peter somewhere a while ago. that can never be good. he’ll probably come back covered in whipped cream or something stupid. those two never leave peter alone. it’s kind of sweet when you think about it.

“thank you! thank you very much, children,” thor grins as everyone applauds the performance. bruce takes a bow. “we’ll be here all night.” you shake your head at the two of them. they’re too funny. natasha shares a look with you. “boo, get off the stage!” bucky calls as he enters the room. sam and peter follow behind him.

peter is smiling like an idiot, not that his smile isn’t adorable. it just seems a bit off. you really have to find out what they did to him.

“uh, this is my stage,” thor scoffs and grabs the microphone off the stand. grimacing, bruce puts a hand on his shoulder. “let’s calm down, buddy.” “no, i think we should do another one. santa baby.” he points to natasha. “hit play for us, thanks.” she sighs and puts the song on through the speakers. you can’t win with thor.

you watch sam whisper something to peter, then bucky cackles. tony and pepper make their way in and sit down next to you on the couch.

“what’s going on in here?” pepper asks you, nudging your arm. you’re more concerned with what’s going on with peter. “a sing off. it was karaoke, but bucky riled thor up.” your dad clicks his tongue. “that absolute madman.”

“he’s not the only madman tonight,” your mom comments, widening her eyes at the sight in front of her. you furrow your eyebrows and follow her gaze. your mouth drops open.

peter is dancing around in front of them. he’s trying to hip bump bruce, who keeps inching closer to thor. sam and bucky are doubled over from the other side of the room. they ruined your poor peter.

thor chuckles and pats peter on the back. he happily accepts it very much like a puppy would. he’s wearing a headband with jingle bells on it and there’s a weird stain on his shirt.

“little spider has been drinking,” thor announces, peter’s cheeks glowing red. that makes sense. you immediately glare at sam and bucky. they raise their hands in defense. they’re still on the hook.

“god, i can smell him from here,” natasha agrees and waves her hand in the air. “they‘d be able to smell him from sokovia,” wanda mutters. “parker? are you shit-faced right now?” your dad speaks up, a look between concern and anger on his face. his giggling gives him away.

“it’s christmas. you’re drunk out of your mind on christmas. i can’t have that.” tony points upstairs, signaling for him to go. you’re pretty sure peter didn’t process a word of that. pepper rubs up and down tony’s arm with a frown. “oh, tony. don’t be a grinch.” he sighs and watches peter try to climb into steve’s lap.

“he needs to sleep this off, pep. kid hasn’t had a drop of alcohol before tonight.” it’s true. he’s big on not drinking until he’s old enough. you have to wonder what changed. “i’ll bring him to his room, dad. he shouldn’t go alone,” you offer, already getting to your feet. “thanks, y/n/n. look at you, making good choices.”

you walk up to steve and give him an apologetic smile. relief washes over his face. “he’s all yours,” he laughs out. “all yours,” peter repeats in a giggle. “mhm. let’s go, peter.” you take him by his arm and pull him away from steve.

he’s easy to drag along because of the state he’s in. he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, your arm around his waist.

“you smell so good, y/n. sooo nice,” peter almost sings, sniffing you for good measure. “you don’t,” you deadpan. the two of you pass by sam and bucky on your way out. “you’re actually messed up for this,” you tell them under your breath, bucky gasping. “hey, miss stark. it was his idea!” sam yells out to you. you’re not in the mood to hear it.

peter cuddles into your side while you lead him up the stairs. his breath is hot on you and wreaks of expensive liquor from your dad’s cabinet. you never imagined you’d see him like this.

he’s still clinging onto you, so you open his door by pressing your back to it. “come on, pete. you have to lay down,” you tell him as nicely as you can. he stops walking in the middle of the room. “wait. lemme show you something.” he wiggles his eyebrows and shakes his head around. it makes the jingle bells on his head... jingle.

“did you like it?” peter asks and leans his head down to do it again. stifling a laugh, you grab his shoulders. “yeah, peter. i liked it. you can stop jingling your bells now.” “you should... should jingle my bells,” he slurs, smirking at you. you quickly take your hands off of him. “oh my god, you’re so drunk.”

he’s doing all the things you wish he would when he’s sober.

“are you mad at me?” peter pouts his lip out. “don’t be mad at me, y/n.” you press your own lips together and take a seat on his bed. he plops down next to you, pushing his head against your shoulder. “no, but i am mad at sam and bucky. i can’t believe they’d do this.” his face twists up in confusion. “and on christmas.”

“do what?” he wonders and settles his head on you. “let you drink?” you ask like it should be obvious. it should be. “no, no, no. they were helping me.” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. that gives him the idea to blow into your ear. you flinch and push at his shoulder.

“peter, they gave you alcohol. it’s clearly not good for you.” “no, y/n.” he closes his eyes and lays his head on your shoulder again. “i got my own. they-“ he’s interrupted by a hiccup. you can’t help but laugh, pulling him closer. “‘scuse me. they helped me with something else.”

drunk peter is kind of cute. super cute, to be real.

“what was it?” you decide to entertain him, figuring he’ll say something ridiculous. “asking you out,” peter answers way too casually. you almost don’t believe him. then again, he’s pretty self aware at the moment. it’s probably because his powers give him a higher tolerance.

peter feels your heart speeding up next to him. he presses his head to it so he can hear. “you- are you serious?” you stammer, willing him to look up at you. “uh huh. i like you a lot.” a lazy smile takes over his face. “a lot a lot.” “peter...” he’s still going.

“i asked them for advice. it sucked. we were in the kitchen and i remembered your dad’s...” he pauses to think of the word. “stash. i thought drinking would make me loose.” he moves his body around for a visual.

you’re still shocked sam and bucky let him go through with it. it does sound like them, though. you’re more shocked peter likes you back and just admitted it.

sober peter would never admit any of that.

“you don’t have to change anything for me, pete. i like you, too.” you grin down at him. peter returns it and puckers his lips at you. “cool. does that mean i can get a kiss?” letting out a breath, you help him sit up again. he whines about it for all of ten seconds before yawning.

this isn’t exactly how you saw this moment going. peter is too shy to ever really initiate anything, and you never knew if he felt the same. you’re always trying to figure out each other’s boundaries. he has to debate with himself about little things like giving you his jacket or facetiming you at night.

he never wants to overstep. you never want to scare him off. having him drunkenly snuggle with you breaks all those boundaries. at least something finally does. the kiss will have to wait until whatever he drank leaves his system, which hopefully won’t be long. his powers are a possibility once again.

“it’s nap time for you,” you tell peter like he’s a kid. he protests like one, too. “but i’m not tired.” “yeah you are. you just yawned.” he opens his mouth to speak. you talk first. “lay down.” he’s caught off guard this time when you push at his chest. it makes him fall back on the pillows.

you giggle and take the jingle bells off his head. they can’t be comfortable. peter makes grabby hands for you. “come lay with me, baby,” he mumbles into the pillow his face is squished in. your heart flutters hearing him call you that. his arms do look inviting. they’re all ready to hold you.

too bad he’s on time out.

“i can’t. i’m supposed to be back downstairs already.” you unenthusiastically get up from the bed. peter groans, rolling onto his side. “i want christmas cuddles.” “you’ll get some after your nap,” you promise and poke his shoulder. “and a kiss.” he closes his eyes the literal second you say that.

you like this boy way too much.

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #tony stark #marvel #spiderman

[trashytummiez]

hunger fic where yuu listens to idia's tummy and then she feeds him and listens to his tummy again when its full?

*GOOOOOUUUUUURRMBLE!*

Poor Idia grimaced uncomfortably when his tummy gave an incredibly loud growl. The dorm leader was so fixated on his gaming session that he forgot to eat and now his tummy was going to remind him whether he liked it or not.

"Nnnngh sooo hungry," whined the fiery haired teenager. He wrapped his arms around his stomach while it kept grumbling away noisily.

"Wow I thought that was a bear," Yuu's voice called out.

The startled Idia yelped like a frightened puppy not expecting his girlfriend to already be in his dormroom. "Wh-When did you get in?"

"Just now. You probably didn't hear me come in over the sound of your stomach," Yuu teased.

Idia whimpered and cringed at the same time when his tummy gave another uproarious grumble. Yuu sat the anxious boy down onto his couch and gently put her hand on his flat rumbling tummy. Idia covered his eyes with his oversized hoodie sleeves whimpering some more. Yuu just giggled and gave his tummy a few teasing pats.

"I ordered takeout for us...mostly you so that should solve this," Yuu said.

Idia's stomach sounded like it was snarling at her for not doing that sooner.

Curious she leaned her head down and put her ear against his stomach. Idia looked down at his girlfriend and tapped his index fingers timidly. "...C-Can't you hear my tummy clear enough with how noisy it is...?"

"You know me," Yuu said like that was all the explanation she needed.

Technically it was. Yuu's fetishes were not unknown to Idia in the least. It was one of the biggest open secrets on campus in fact. Others were far more keen to tease Yuu's fetish but Idia was way too shy to try a lot of the times.

Fortunately he still managed whether he tried to or not.

Yuu continued listening to Idia's stomach grumbling away. It bubbled sharply like liquids being sucked away from the very depths of his stomach.

To help calm Idia's stomach down Yuu slid her hand under his big blue hoodie and started rubbing his bare tummy. Idia whined nervously when he felt her lithe little hand delicately stroking his soft pale flesh. He hated to admit how much he loved her touch but was also so unused to physical contact that it still made him incredibly nervous.

Her fingers gently rode up Idia's flat smooth stomach running circles across it and occasionally kneading into his delicate flesh. He bit his blue lips with his fangs both out of nervousness and pleasure. Especially when Yuu started to run her fingers across his belly button.

It also helped to ease the roaring from Idia's tummy too. His organ was still growling but much softer the more Yuu rubbed it.

What helped even more was the fast food Yuu ordered finally arriving. She got Idia an abundance of his favorite burgers and beverages. The timid and anxious boy quickly tore through his meal more voraciously than he cared to admit. Idia was incredibly hungry after all. Too hungry to be embarrassed by his far less than civil eating.

Yuu loved every second of it. She loved watching Idia's fangs tear through each burger and the sizable lumps that would squeeze down his pale slender throat. And the way he washed it all down by grabbing one of the two liter bottles she got him by bringing it up to his blue lips and sucking that beverage down made Yuu weak in the knees. She watched his Adam's Apple bob in and out while his throat rippled from gulping his soda down so fast and in such high quantity.

Not to mention how unbelievably gassy all that soda was making him combined with so much fast food festering in his increasingly swollen tummy. The more food Idia chomped down and the more soda he guzzled the bigger and rounder his tummy became. That bump beneath Idia's large hoodie stretched out against it more and more injunction with Idia's gluttony.

By the time idia was finished stuffing himself his belly was as big as a beachball. His hoodie actually rode up a little because he was too bloated to conceal it even with how large his hoodie was.

Idia moaned and slumped back against the couch with both hands rubbing his big round tummy. Yuu could hear everything in Idia's belly slosh from his movement.

"Faaaaaah...unnnngh I'm so fuuuull..." Idia moaned while his hands groggily rubbed over the round mass gurgling from his stretched out middle.

"Wow you were really hungry weren't you," Yuu marveled at the sight of Idia's big noisy belly.

Idia gave a really rich closed mouth burp that made him squint and stained both his and Yuu's cheeks with a blush. Just for very different reasons. Idia panted after and patted his belly while he blew the gas out of his mouth. "Ungh I guess my tummy was emptier than I thought..." Idia said with a soft hiccup.

Yuu leaned him back a little more and lifted the bottom of his hoodie and shirt up like she were lifting a curtain to reveal that big beautifully round tummy of his. Idia blushed immensely when yuu started fumbling with his pants. He whimpered and looked away humming some anime theme song to himself until Yuu undid his pants. His incredibly bloated tummy spilled forth with a heavy slosh to fill up the space and brought Idia such immediate relief he moaned heavenly.

"Oooooohhhh...ohhh that's so much better..." Idia moaned.

"I know," Yuu said and gave Idia's sizable tummy a teasing pat which made it wobble and caused the boy to hiccup again.

Yuu was too infatuated not to immediately start rubbing Idia's belly when she was close enough. She rubbed that heavily glutted tummy slowly and sensually. Her fingers kneaded across that thick yet smooth and oh so soft flesh sinking into it while she worked to settle the boys incredibly full belly.

She cupped into the sides of his ball-shaped tummy and used her thumbs to gently stroke that portion of flesh between Idia's stretched out belly and his hips. He was far too bashful and timid to admit how much he adored that feeling of Yuu's hands all over his stomach but he didn't need to. Not when Yuu probably loved fondling and rubbing his belly every bit as much as Idia loved being on the receiving end. Especially the way her palm ran over his belly button. Even as shy and anxious as Idia was that never failed to make the boy groan delightfully. Which was part of why Yuu always did it.

His big round tummy burbled heavily while his strong digestive system worked to break down such a remarkably heavy meal. It caused Idia's stomach to gurgle and churn very noisily almost like one of their potion classes they had together if one counted Idia's form of remote learning. And because he was already digesting so much of what he ate Idia's stomach had a soft jiggly quality to it.

This was something Yuu always loved about Idia's belly after a heavy binge. She cupped his immensely thick lower stomach and lifted it up. Idia's blush was intense when he saw the sheer infatuation and lust in Yuu's eyes when she scooped up his belly like that. She eagerly gave his belly a light jiggle which made everything digesting inside of him slosh even more heavily. Idia winced when all that sloshing started stirring the gas in his belly up his gullet. He held a fist against his dark blue lips and barely held back a considerable burp that rumbled heavily in his cheeks. Idia blushed and gave another longer closed mouth burp right after that.

The way the gas rumbled so hard in Idia's mouth always turned Yuu on especially with the strain on his face when he struggled to hold back. But she also really wanted to hear Idia let a good burp out so she teasingly released Idia's belly and let it basically flop down onto his lap with an intense slosh and jiggle. The thick sound of Idia's tummy basically slapping against his thighs was so satisfying to Yuu's ears.

But not nearly as satisfying as the thick burble that gurgled up Idia's throat. He winced and tried to hold it back with his hand clamped around his lips but there was just too much pressure to hold back. So Idia ended up letting out a loud throaty burp that pushed out of him heavily for a few seconds.

BBRRRAAAAAAAAAHHRRUUURRRUUUUUUUHHHPP!!!!

Yet again both Idia and Yuu were blushing heavily and yet again it was for completely different reasons.

"There you go just let it out," Yuu said and gave the side of Idia's belly a few especially hearty pats to make it slosh and jiggle with each pat and hopefully coax another one out.

And it did since her patting caused another hearty burp to roll out of Idia's mouth.

The boy huffed and covered his mouth in time to suppress another air bubble that was worming its way up his throat after that burp.

"...You enjoy this way too much," Idia whined softly.

"Guilty as charged," Yuu admitted shamelessly and drove her point home by really squeezing down on Idia's belly which forced a huge burp out of Idia's mouth that was bigger and longer than any others before it.

BBWWRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRRRRHHHAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRLLPPP!!!!!!!!!!!

It was such a massive burp that Idia was left out of breath when it finished. He slumped back and panted so heavily his rounded tummy rose and fell with each breath he gave.

"Fffrraaahh...ooohhhh...ungh that...that felt good..." he gasped out with his tongue out a little.

"Sounded even better," Yuu said and gave Idia's tummy another teasing pat. Idia hiccuped again and huffed after. There was clearly still more gas left in there but she'd hold off on pushing the rest out after the boy had some time to catch his breath.

Then Idia's tummy gave a thick groan.

*GllluuOOOOOoorrrrble!!!*

It sounded richer than the drier and more painful sounding rumbles it was giving before Idia ate.

Yuu rested her head against Idia's big belly with a fleshy bloated pillow. The added pressure against his stomach made Idia burp again but he was far too winded by that last record breaking eruption he gave to bother holding it in. Yuu's ear rested gently against Idia's round churning tummy nuzzling her cheek into his soft delicate flesh which made Idia giggle lightly from how ticklish his tummy was.

She just listened to it churn and burble deeply while his meal continued to be worked down.

"Mmmmm you're tummy sounds so happy right now," she observed with infatuation on her mind.

Despite his overstuffed state when Idia looked down and saw Yuu nestled up against his big tummy like that he couldn't help smile and drape an arm around his girlfriend. "With how much you fed it I'm not surprised," he said with another small giggle. Then he bit his lip again tentatively. "...Do you think you could keep rubbing my tummy a little bit more while you're down there?"

He could barely finish talking when Yuu got to work immediately stroking Idia's burbling tummy even more. Idia hummed happily and closed his eyes with an absolutely adorable smile on his face. Yuu caught a glimpse and felt her heart grow warmer at the sight.

It just reinforced what she always knew. Happiness was always just a full tummy away.

#kink fic #idia #yuu #idia x yuu #belly kink #bloated #stuffing #tummy squeeze #tummy rub #noisy tummy #hunger kink #burping #burp kink #hiccups #i ship it #stuffed

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

[mashiraostail]

Hi! Can I please get some Gang Orca, Aizawa, Vlad King and Present Mic when their S/O knows they've been having a rough week and they surprise their mans with lingerie and an evening of... *ahem* Stress relief? Also some pampering and snuggles!

o my gosh i love this song this is kinda on the longer side i have diverged into the world of p o rn 

ns fw under the cut (i think it’s pretty gender neutral lmk tho!)

Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca: Kugo tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve in private with you, stress was no different. He was clearly stretched out beyond his normal limits, and by the looks of it, he still had a ways further to go. He always got a little short with you when his work became tedious, not in a mean way just in a curt way. One word answers to your questions became favorable and for better or worse he mostly just liked to be left alone. He apologized after things were sorted he knows you’re only worried and trying to check in with him but when things pile up he gets overwhelmed even by your simple questions.  You could feel the irritation appearing on Monday night, and it only piled as the week progressed, by the end of it the poor man was about to spill over with his annoyance. You were working quietly across the room from him, much less stressful and more leisurely assignments that didn’t make your heart leap out of your throat, you watch him tap his pen around on his desk, prattling the black plastic as he sat on the phone, after a moment he just hung up and sighed, that was the fourth interaction like that within the hour. You watched him forlornly, you wished there was some way for you to help relieve the tension in his shoulders, something you could say or do that would put him at ease rather than overwhelm him further. As you pondered it you realized that maybe there was something. You stand up suddenly, and the unexpected motion leads Kugo to turn and look at you expectantly.  “I’m going to get ready for bed I think.” You sigh, “I’m pretty exhausted so it’s probably best to call it an early night.” It was at least worth a try, even if he’d say no, “you look tired too.” You press a kiss just below his eye, “why don’t you join me?”  He shakes his head, “In a little while. I’ll be quiet.”  “I wasn’t worried about that.” You squeeze his shoulders, “don’t work too hard, okay Kugo?” He just hums back at you as you leave.  You were sort of worried you’d lost it, you’d boughten it a while ago but got too nervous to even put it on by yourself let alone in front of someone else. It wasn’t that you thought he wouldn’t like it, you were pretty sure Kugo could find a way to compliment you if you were wearing a trash bag, it just felt...strange. Embarrassing maybe. You couldn’t pin the word but it made you flutter nervously.  When you do manage to dig it up you contemplate it for a second. You decide the nervousness will be worthwhile if it helps relieve Kugo even a little bit.  You wonder how to go about it, should you just walk across the hall and bust in his office? That feels sort of curt. You look around for a moment before an idea percolates.  “Kugo!” You call out to him, trying to keep an indifferent tone, “can you come here a second? I need a hand!” You hear him sigh, and you’re half expecting him to call back that the step ladder is in the kitchen. But you sit on the edge of your bed in wait, trying to look less nervous and more appealing.  “What’s the matter? I’m very-” Blue, dark navy blue and barely there. He really wasn’t expecting this. He could practically see all of you, sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed, thin satiny straps hardly holding the frail garment together, he’s sure just one tug from his finger would send it fluttering to the ground. He feels sort of bad for letting so much annoyance bubble up in him when you called for him. But now something else was bubbling up. It was like you’d packaged yourself up for him.. well he supposed you quite literally did. “Are you busy?” You can feel his gaze latch onto you, his eyes taking you in, up and down rapidly over and over again.  “No..not...very..”

 It really doesn’t take much coaxing to get him undressed and into bed. After a while of kissing him while his hands roam around the sheer blue lace that just scarcely covered you, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. You’d been together for a while, and you were never one to hold out on him, he isn’t sure why he’s on cloud nine right now, it’s not like he’d never gotten this sort of thing from you before, your hands, mouth, and a lot more than that were always there. If he wanted you all he had to do was ask. But something about you doing this for him, because he was stressed...the way you did all this just to relieve him? It was too sweet, combined with the sight of you in that perfect outfit on your knees for him and the feeling of your lips and hands playing with his already hard cock was more than enough to wash the tension away. It cleared his head of anything but you.  Big hands pull your mouth off his length, the drool and precum around your lower lip, paired with the redness washed over your face and the obscene plumpness in your lips that the stretch of his cock left behind would have been enough to make him beg if you felt any need to withhold from him. Lucky for him you did not.  “Kugo-” You let him spread your legs, tread careful fingers between them pressing in one, then another while he holds you up in his lap, leaning you against his chest for leverage.  “What a sweet thing you are...” His chest rumbles with it, “did you go to this trouble all to make me feel better?”  His fingers knew their way around too well, his other hand splayed on your chest, careful to simply push or slide underneath the lace rather than remove it, palms and fingertips occasionally brushing over your nipple, all you can do is keen and nod.  “You did?” His hand on your chest pushes you closer, “that makes me so happy my love.”  “Kugo-” You call for him again and he hums as you clutch his wrist, the one between your legs.  “I’m right here. Hm... What would I do without you?” He murmurs it close to your ear, it sends a full-body shudder down your frame, “you always take such good care of me, and I was being cold to you wasn’t I?”  “No,” you shake your head, your whole face is burning, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at the exposure, “you weren’t-”  “But I was.” He sighs, “and now I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?”  “Kugo- I just want you,” you gasp, fingers tightening around his arm, “please Kugo,” his fingers leave you at that, the loss makes your whole abdomen stutter.  “Turn around and face me.” You follow his order with shaking thighs.  “Aren’t you lovely?” His tongue slides over your chest as two big hands curl around the small of your back. “Can you do it?”  His question falls on deaf ears, you’re already lining him up and starting to take him in, the groan that rumbles out of him only spurs you on until you’ve worked yourself up to hysterics bouncing in his lap, his low grunted praises pushing you closer to the proverbial edge by the second.  You’re a nice view, Kugo’s surprised he’s lasted so long with it. He watches the flush extend down your chest, his hand occasionally treks down the small of your back to your hips, then down still to feel the stretch of you around his length, until he's just about there, then he’s guiding all your movements, pushing and lifting you with ease, an almost bruising grip gets you to roll your hips against his. You’re sheathed totally in his lap when you both finish.  He enjoys watching your chest heave as you come down from it, then you fall against him. “You really do look lovely.” He wraps his arms around you, keeping you in place.  “You think so?” You shuffle up his chest, “well I’m glad. I don’t know why I was nervous..”  “Nervous?” His tongue glides along your neck, “about how you looked?” “Maybe, I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it, I...I guess I don’t know what I thought to be honest.”  “Whatever you want to give to me I’d be delighted to have.” He nips your earlobe and you sigh, coiling a leg around him as he continues, “even when I get a little short with you, you’re always what I want. I’m a pushover when it comes to you.” He concedes, and then you remember.  “Sorry to pull you away from all your work. I just wanted to help...”  “No need to be sorry, you did help..” He’s rubbing long, tender strokes up your back, “and anyways it was an emergency.” 

Shouta Aizawa: Stress wasn’t foreign to the erasure hero, though stress that came from being behind on work presented a certain dilemma. He dealt with stress by sleeping, but in this case...well sleeping would only make it worse. So he got even less sleep than normal. He was irritable at best and downright rude at worst. He’d apologize later, he always did, but at the moment all he wanted was to be left along to plug away at all the responsibilities he’d neglected until now. You felt bad, you wished there was more you could do to help him out, but as it were all you could really do is be there if he wanted to lean his weight on your arm or complain about his day, normally you’d offer a nap with him but that seemed like the last thing he’d want.  You’d already left him to get ready for bed, you’d showered and were rummaging around for some pajamas when you find it, you don’t think you’d even worn it before. You wouldn’t say you and Shouta didn’t have a lot of sex, you had a decent amount, but normally fancy lingerie was left to fantasy, it looked fragile and not at all like something that would hold up against Shouta’s semi-destructive bedroom tendencies, you wonder why you bought it in the first place. Though you realize that it may be useful right about now, especially if he was in a being taken care of mood over a, doing the caring mood.  You wonder how long ago you even got it, it still fit fine so it can’t be all that old. You peek out the bedroom door to make sure he’s still sitting, unsuspecting at the table in the kitchen, his back to you.  When it all checked out you made your way over, sliding your arms around his neck.  “Shou.” You rest your cheek against his temple, “it’s so late.”  “I know.” Is his deadpan reply. “Do you need the time?” He points to the bottom right of his screen, a small digital clock displaying the hour. You huff at that, you knew he knows that’s not what you mean. “Come to bed with me.” You rub his chest over the ribbed fabric of his shirt, “please?”  “In a minute.”  “Shouta..please..” You whine at him and duck down to kiss his jaw, he reaches behind himself to hold onto you, he finds your shoulder, by the crook of your neck, expecting to feel the fabric of a t shirt or a tank top strap, but there’s nothing, just skin, he slides his hand over your shoulder, in search of something. His other arm reaches around too, lower, to your legs, thighs, and hips.  “Are you naked?” He asks incredulously. “Maybe,” His hand finds one strap around your thigh as you continue, “or better.” He pulls away and stands, facing you, you’re still bent over resting on the back of his chair.  “You-” His eyes latch onto the purple, royal purple, dark, and figure-hugging, leaving nothing to his imagination, purple that he wanted to pull away with his teeth, leaving marks on your skin behind in its place.  “Where’d you get that-”  “Why’s it matter?” You laugh, pulling him closer by his shoulder, “want a matching set?”  “Shut up.” He wraps his arms around you despite his words.  “Ready to call it a night now?” Your own arms come around his neck and he sighs.  “You’re such a brat.”  “You were the one being mean, if you work like this too much I’ll worry you don’t love me anymore, you know?”  The trek from the kitchen to your bedroom is mostly lost in your memory.  You aren’t entirely sure why you considered the possibility that Shouta would want to lay back and let you take care of him, as soon as he touched you back in the kitchen you realized all he’d really want to do was blow off steam. But you were fine with that too. 

That in mind...he can be utterly cruel when it suits him. 

“Are you still worried I don’t love you anymore?” His voice is low and gruff beside your ear, his lips and stubble scraping down your jaw to your neck. If you’d had plans to get on your knees for him he nixed them before you could even get started in favor of getting you where he had you now, back to his chest three fingers inside you at a grueling pace, pushing and curling and rubbing until your eyes were watering and you were arching against him, trying to get enough leverage to close yourself off.  “Keep your legs open.” His other hand is at your collar bone, keeping you pressed against him, “come on, or I’ll tie you up how I want you.” You grip his arm at that you can feel him grin into your skin.  “You’re gonna rip it-” You turn into him, chest stuttering, he hadn’t gone to the trouble of removing the lingerie, just pushing and twisting it out of the way of his hands.  “I’ll buy you a new set if I do.” He’s teeth close around your neck, “don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about anything.”  You dig your nails into his arm unsure of what number orgasm this was, honestly after 2 you felt like they just melded together anyways, it’s not like he let up nearly long enough to let you recover.  “Are your eyes watering?” He mutters it into your jaw, “aren’t you cute? Is it too much?” You’re just shaking your head, keening and arching into his touch, chest heaving with helpless breaths.  “No?” His voice is thick with faux sympathy, “are you gonna cry? It hurts a little to be so close, doesn’t it? Can’t take it? You’re right there aren’t you? Why can’t you cum?” He doesn’t mind the scratching, and it’s a good thing, cause if he did..he’d be an unhappy man after this all let up.  “You didn’t say-” You barely get the breath in your lungs to push the words out.  He’s grinning though, it’s the answer he wanted, exactly how he wanted it, breathless and needy. “You want me to say you can?” His other hand rubs your stomach comfortingly, a stark and unfair contrast to the pace of his second hand. “Is that what you want? Will you cry if I don’t?”  “I’ll cry if you do too-”  “I’m willing to test that, come on. Cum now.” It happens like clockwork, with Shouta it always was. Stuttering thighs, your stomach taking in shaky uneven breaths. Once your peak is there and gone both hands are softer, slower, rubbing long strokes against your sex then your stomach and chest.  “That was good.” He’s murmuring it into the soft skin behind your ear, “that was so good. You’re so sweet.” His hand’s rubbing small circles over your belly, his thumb brushing over your navel. “Is that all you can do tonight?” “No,” You shake your head vehemently, “no I want you too-” He hums affectionately into your skin at that. “You are sweet tonight.” He squeezes you a little, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but you feel it. “Okay then, if this is what you want then I won’t feel bad. Lay on your chest.”

Sekijiro Kan/Vlad King: Despite how he looked Kan really wasn’t very brutish at all. But when he got like this sometimes his own strength evaded him. It made his emotions obvious, when he got too stressed even a fountain pen was liable to snap in his fist. He’d worked through all the wooden pencils in your apartment, they’d been halved and discarded in rapid succession, he was currently working through all the mechanical pencils. You hoped this all got sorted before the fountain pens, that was a mess you’d rather avoid. He was usually good at dealing with stress, long runs, combat trainings, things in that vein were usually enough to relive him of a bad couple of days. But if the discontent extended past that normally he liked talking with you, when he was stressed, upset or exhausted he liked having you hauled up in his lap, squeezing him, combing your fingers through his hair and babying him into perking up a bit. But when it got past even that stage was when you had to worry about fountain pens.  He’d brush you off, just a grunt or nod as a reply as he slunk back into his seat. You tired your signature knuckle kisses to get him to warm up to you, but all you’d gotten out of him was a huff of breath. He didn’t pull his hand away from you though, until his phone started to ring, and by the time he finished his conversation and hung up he didn’t look keen on offering it to you again.  “Sek.” You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and he nods.  “You should come to bed. It’s late and you don’t feel good.”  “I feel fine.” He shakes your hold on his arm, “you go ahead. It is late, there’s no need for you to be up now.” Normally he’d kiss your head with a phrase like that, but all he did was break the pencil in his right hand. You sigh, “alright. Well wake me up if anything okay? If I can help at all I want to.”  “I know. Thanks.” You kiss his temple as you stand up, “Don’t be too late.” He just nods at that and you close the door behind you as you leave.  It’s there in your closet front and center when you open it up. You were planning on using it for his birthday...but now..well maybe it’d be enough to rescue him yet? You only got it a few days ago, you hadn’t even tried it on yet. You look between it and your reflection before settling on an idea.  You stand before the closed door, separating you and Sekijiro, you’re just a little nervous, if he brushed you off dressed like this you’d be sort of crushed, but he got such tunnel vision sometimes it was a possibility in your head. But you were almost 100% there now, so there wasn’t any use in turning back. “Sekijirio.” You open the door and try to seem less anxious. “Mhm?” He doesn’t turn to look at you. You approach him without responding. “Sekijiro.” You say it harder this time and he nods more obviously, still spinning a barely together pencil in his fingers.  “Yeah,what’s wrong?” You’re standing beside him and he still doesn’t look at you.  “I though you were going to bed?” He says still without looking at you.  “I was.” You agree.  “So why didn’t you?” “I got lonely.” You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to get his gaze on you, though you’re ineffective. “I’m really busy.”   “Sekijiro.” You spin his chair.  “Baby what gives, I-” He stops, maybe chokes on something.  “You’re being such a brute.” You take his hands and slide them up your stomach as you drop into his lap. He hears you but all he can think about is red, lacy and showy fabric highlighting the best places, like a guide for all the places his wants to put his hands, the band around your thigh squeezing, making you look even fuller and more supple in his lap. “What happened to my big sweet man Seki?” His mouth feels dry, your holding the sides of his neck, drawing him into a kiss, and clearly encouraging him to just put his hands all over you. It was like he was having some embarrassing high school fantasy, like someone dug around his brain and picked out his most perfect fantasy and laid it out like a trap for him. “I say that..but it’s so sexy when you get all worked up..” His stomach swarms at that as your eyes cast to the abandoned pile of broken writing utensils. You’re practically whining into his lips, “ and I know I shouldn’t distract you, you said you were busy, I’m sorry I’m so needy-”  “I’m not busy at all.” He barely lets you finish, “this is nothing. Don’t be sorry. I can do it tomorrow.” He was sure his class would understand if he..waited an extra day or two to return the exams..  “Just keep working.” Your hands are sliding into his shirt, “I’ll take care of you.”

He could not keep working. It was unfair of you to hold him to that standard, when you were so good at this, when you looked so good on your knees between his legs, taking him to the back of your throat, when your hands felt like that braced on his thighs. No sane person could keep working. Not when your hair was begging to have his hands in it, or when you clearly needed to be guided up and down his length by the nape of your neck.  He only had two hands. And when your’s started wandering, up his abdomen, around to his waist, begging him to toss his shirt somewhere else..the work can wait, for your sake. He doesn’t mean to pull so hard, but the moan that flutters past your lips when he does indicates it may not be the worst mistake he’s ever made. He pulls you off his length and you let him go with a pop, a thin strand of something obscene connected your lips to the head of his cock, the sight of it alone was enough to make him buck his hips up into nothing.  “Let’s just go to bed.” He’s guiding you to stand, “I’m done here. Let’s just go bed.” He can’t tell if the ditzy stumble and blown out pupils are just part of the act or if blowing him really does shut your brain off a little. “if you want-” Your voice jumps as he swipes you up via the back of your thighs, once your settle though you take the short walk to your bedroom as an opportunity to get your lips on him again, his shoulders, his chest, just around the neckline of his hero costume, if it even tore a little one stood the chance of sticking out. He loses his pants on the way. He just tosses you on the bed once you’re close enough, before you can protest or complain he’s kissing you quiet, then trailing his mouth down your neck and shoulders, to your chest and stomach and legs, kissing and biting and fingering, enjoying the feeling of your fingers twirling and tugging his hair, and the way you’re spreading your legs to allow him closer. He enjoys it until he’s hooking your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up, your hands brace his hips as he presses forward.  If anyone asked him this was the best of both worlds, he got the physical work out plus he got you cooing in his ear? He wasn’t really sure what he was stressed about in the first place.  “Fuck-” You’re gasping it out, pressing his face into your neck, “you’re amazing-” Even subtle praise makes his stomach jump, and you’re just babbling it out thoughtlessly at this point, he doesn’t blame himself for not lasting much longer after you start.  His weight drops onto your chest after you finish and you heave, “jeeze Sek-”  “Sorry.” He presses his face into your shoulder, “sorry.” But he doesn’t move. The way you wrap your arms around his back say you don’t want him to.  “That was really good.” He’s still huffing into your skin and you hum, dragging a hand up his back.  “I’ll help you grade that stuff tomorrow.” You twirl the hairs at the base of his neck around your fingertips. He groans thankfully. “I’m sorry I was being mean.” He rolls over and traps you against his chest, “you’re the best.” 

Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic Hyperactive was an understatement, manic was an intense downplay of the current state of your boyfriend. And he was doing everything but the things that needed to get done.  “Hizashi-”  “I can't now I need to do-” (insert thing that doesn’t need to be done at all).  He had plenty of reports to fill out, from what you heard it was a busy week for patrols in the area, plus his usual grading and any work for the show.  But instead of doing that he was reorganizing a record shelf.  “Hizashi I-”  “You don’t understand how badly I need to organize these alphabetically by title.” He doesn’t let you get a word in.  “Clearly I don’t at all. Can I help at all?” You sit on the ground behind him.  “No I don’t think so.”  “Alright.” You concede, “I’m gonna call it a night.” You sigh, “call if you need me.”  “Aye aye.” He’s scrutinizing two records as you leave him.  You just needed to get him to focus on something, then he’d be fine. But what could you get him to focus on...something starts to bubble up, it might just work too..if you could get his feet on the ground  in anyway at all you were sure it’d stick.  It doesn’t take you long to find the box, you’d bought it for a special occasion, though with Hizashi you normally didn’t get much in the ways of planning and preparation, when valentines, your birthday, his birthday, an anniversary etc.. rolled around he was jumping your bones the moment you rolled over in the morning. You don’t think he’s ever even seen this one on you.  You don’t take long to get changed, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror when your bedroom door opens.  “Babe I know you said you were going to bed but I hope you aren’t asleep because while I was cleaning out that box that I use to prop up some vinyl sleeves I found these hilarious pictures from high school of you and Nem-” He drops the pictures.  “Oh.” You turn to him, “well I wanted to give you a surprise.”  “You did-” He chokes it out, red flush creeping down his neck, “why are you wearing that-”  “Because.” You go over to him and take his wrists, pulling him further into your bedroom, he just stumbles along with your pull. “You need to calm down Zashi baby.”  “This does not make me feel calm-” It’s strangled, if he got any redder you were sure you’d see steam coming out of his ears.  “You need to get all your energy out.” You press him down until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed. You roll your hips against him, and drag your lips down his jaw, one hand braced on his shoulder and the other against his chest, but you can still feel his attention waining.  “Zashi.” You drop all your weight into his lap and it pulls his eyes from your dresser back to you.  “Focus on me.” You guide his hands up your waist and all the fluster that had been lost as his thoughts wandered away from you returned. You realize the better thing to do is stand up and let him have things his way. “You can look or touch however you want.” You pull his hands down your hips.  “So just blow off all that extra steam okay? Whatever you want, just tell me.”  He looks mildly like he’s about to pass out.  His hands go where you expect, your hips, around to cup your ass and his lips flutter around your stomach and waist. You elect to just sigh good naturedly and curl your fingers in his hair to keep him with you. “Can you turn around?”  “Hizashi.” You frown, “don’t be distasteful.”  “You said whatever I wanted-” You suppose you cant argue that so you turn around and try not to let out an embarrassing squeak or squeal when 100% of his attention is directed at your ass, one arm circling around you to hold you in place.  Various articles of clothing are lost or rearranged to accommodate the touching and kissing. He manages to pull you into bed with him, still keeping your legs on either side of his head as he lays down. His arms wrap around your thighs  fingers and palms running slow strokes over your sex as his teeth scrape the surrounding skin, tongue fluttering against your hole occasionally. You press against his chest for leverage and he encourages you to rock your hips against him. You eventually go for his cock, as he starts to work you up too much, getting you too close. You thumb at the head before leaning down and taking him past your lips. He seems contented with that for a while until he’s laying you out on your chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pushing into you. He doesn’t stay pressed to you for too long before he’s pulling back to watch your whole body react to him.  It held his attention exceedingly well.  “Zashi fuck-” To say that the way you reached back and fumbled for his hand where it held the bend of your hips heightened the experience would be an understatement.  “Fuck you’re really sexy-” He presses his fingers into your skin harder, “god you’re so fucking hot,” he groans watching your back shift to accommodate the way your hand searches for some purchase. Instead though he’s pushing it away and using his grip on you to turn you to your back, he pulls your legs around his waist and you follow his pull with no protest.  “Fucking god,” He grunts, bottoming out as if he hadn’t pulled out in the first place, “shit, look at you.”  “Zashi-” Your chest flutters with it, he can feel it under his hands.  “Say my name like that again.” He mutters it, maybe more to himself, he’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist and aligning it over his shoulder.  He seriously had way too much energy, you could barely keep up you felt so dizzy.  “Zashi!” You keen at the deeper angle and he groans. “God you sound almost as good as you look.” He presses his forehead into your shoulder, “I’m gonna fucking cum babe-”  The way you were gripping him like you’d float away if you didn’t was already more than enough for him, but the way you’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut as you gasp it out at him, “me too!” If that didn’t do the trick then nothing would.  He’s against your chest, heaving. “Feel better?” You ask pulling a long strand of hair between your fingers. He hums and presses his face into your neck.  “Yeah I do..”  “It’s still pretty early.” You curl your arms around his back and drag your fingers over the shifting muscles below. He nods at that and takes a deep breath of you. “So..” You prompt him. “I could help you work out what you need to get done tomorrow?”  “We could go again?” You speak in unison.  “Again!?” You flush, “Zash you have way too much energy!” 

Bonus Aizawa ending hehe: “Are you sure you’re okay?” He’s looking at you where you lay below him the next morning, he’d reached over you to click off his alarm when he caught sight of you, he’d really done a number on you. Red in all the places he’d grabbed or smacked, shapeless hickeys outlining where the lingerie had been the night before, the map on your skin the only thing left of the garment as far as you were concerned.  “I’m fine.” You wave, “I’ve gotta get up soon though, I’ll be late.” You pin some of his stray hairs back, “what really matters is how are you feeling? Did I help at all? I was worried I’d only make it worse-”  “I feel much better.” He leans down to bridge the gap between your lips, “I shouldn’t get so stand offish. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t really think I don’t love you.”  “Of course I don’t.” You laugh, sitting up, “I’m glad you feel better now. It’s okay to need space Shouta.” You squeeze his face in your hands, “I love you and I know that you love me. I’m always here for you, even when you need space okay?” He hears your words and appreciates them, but his attention is taken by the state of your thighs, which was 1000x worse than that of your chest and stomach. “Are you sure I didn’t do too much? You can be honest with me. I know I was in a really bad mood.” He asks pushing the blanket to reveal more reddend skin.  “Positive. Now you should get a few more z’s Shou.” You stretch out, “I’ve got a meeting.”  As soon as your feet hit the floor your legs protest the weight of your body with everything they have. “Are you sure you’re sure?” Shouta can see your hickey covered thighs trembling as you walk around the bed to your closet, the way you hold the door knob like a life line makes it obvious. The backs of your thighs are still stained red and tensed taught to carry your weight. “Yeah I just...need to stretch is all..” “Uh-huh. Stretch.” Shouta’s just laughing at you. 

#aizawa shouta x reader #gang orca x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #vlad king x reader #present mic x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #bnha x reader #bnha request #aizawa shouta smut #bnha smut #smut

[asssikawa]

pretty boy swag

i was just in a silly goofy mood, dont take it seriously pls;; gojo x gn! reader

summary: gojo being a pick me boy for you

AU where curses don’t exist; tw underaged smoking and drinking courtesy of shoko. art by @reiouta

you didn’t know how much longer you could tolerate the menace to society; satoru gojo. as of the passing recent months, he started actually acknowledging your existence after months of hanging around his acquaintances. you weren’t sure if you missed that he walked past you as if you were thin air, constantly bumping shoulders with him or gojo actually pestering you in the name of “wanting to get closer.”

walking down the empty halls of your school, you had memorized each route gojo and his group walked down… just to avoid them. an all too familiar voice followed by a song boomed in the empty hallways; dread immediately rose in you, as you attempted to pick up speed to lose track of the white haired teen. “pretty boy coming through,” he said in a sing-a-long voice, his eyes landing on your distant figure. “(name)!” he called out, making you flinch. slowly, you turned your head, a forced smile burning the sides of your mouth.

“hey gojo,” you squeaked out; you wished you could beat yourself up for sounding so meek. on gojo’s sides, two others peered out, the more tolerable ones from the group; suguru getou and shoko ieiri. a sigh of relief left your mouth upon seeing the two. getou’s usual content expression morphed into one of a sly fox.

“now gojo, it’s not nice to scare the underclassmen. you should know better,” getou said, followed up by shoko’s sarcastic tsk tsk of disappointment.

“right? what would poor utahime think about you bothering her best friend?” shoko said. she wore gojo’s sunglasses, adjusting them every now and then when they slid down her high nose bridge.

you take it back. they were just as bad as him.

gojo’s mouth opened to say something, but the bell cut him off. saved by the bell; quite literally. “get to class,” he said instead, another smirk splitting his face.

“i plan to,” you deadpanned, before hastily rushing to your first period, math. never have you wanted to be in math class so bad until gojo popped into your life. hell, you weren’t even good at math.

why had he started tormenting you out of all people? there was nothing particularly extraordinary about you; maybe it was the fact you were close to utahime? or nanami and haibara?

lost in your thoughts and endless possibilities, you had missed the bell ringing until the bubbly boy peered over your desk. his doe-like eyes scanned your dazed out face. “(name)? earth to (name)?” haibara said, waving his hand in front of your face. the taller blond man sighed, watching you finally snap out of your thoughts.

“you don’t even have any of the notes written, (name), that isn’t good for the quiz tomorrow,” nanami said, pulling out his composition book, before beckoning you to take the notebook.

“kenny,” you started.

“i’ll take that notebook right back if you call me that again.”

“you are godsent,” you said, batting your eyelashes his way. a hearty laugh emitted from haibara, his bright smile nearly lit up nanami’s mood once more.

“what’s got you thinking so hard?” haibara asked, draping his body over the seat while watching you pack up.

“surely if you’re thinking, it’s never good,” nanami muttered, earning an offended ‘hey’ from you. pressing your cheek against your balled fist, letting out a small hum. do you tell them or not?

“it’s just that, you know how gojo had never acknowledged me before? he’s been non stop pestering me these days and i’m thinking to myself; why? he couldn’t possibly like utahime and trying to get information out of me, she hates his guts!” you exclaimed, adjusting the bag over your shoulders. the duo glanced at each other, focusing back on you.

“(name), have you considered that he may like you? you know? have a crush?” haibara said, scratching the back of his head. you stayed silent for a while, pondering on the idea of gojo liking you.

“that’s a joke right,”

“why are you so pessimistic about people actually taking interest in you, romantically?” nanami asked, leaning against the desk.

“no romantic attention from anyone my entire life,” you said, standing from your seat.

“how lonely,” haibara responded.

~

the last few periods went by quicker than expected. the ring of the bell pulled you out of your thoughts, turning away from the window. it was surprisingly beautiful for this time of year; the skies were blue, soft fluffy clouds passed every now and then. the occasional gust of wind rattled windows of your class as your teacher paused his lecture. you preferred the gloomy weather, but seeing the clear skies was nice. packing up your materials and standing, you peered out the door, widening your eyes. down the hall was your trio of haibara, nanami and utahime… speaking to the other trio. utahime’s raven hair was tied in a low ponytail, a vague look of annoyance washed over on her face as gojo spoke, her expression softened every time shoko had interjected the conversation. you always wondered why the two aren’t dating yet. nanami’s eyes landed on your figure, his fingers pointed downwards towards the steps, in hopes gojo hadn’t seen you yet.

unfortunately for the both of you, he had caught notice of nanami’s subtle hand motions and followed his eyes towards you. “wow, it’s (name)! we were just waiting on you!” gojo said, his sunglasses shifted downwards, revealing his icicle blue eyes. utahime turned towards you, mouthing an ‘i am so sorry.’ reluctantly, your feet dragged along the halls, it felt as if weights were tied around your ankles. eventually, you made it towards the group; gojo’s long arm draped around your shoulders. your heart raced at the sudden gesture, heat raising to your face. “wouldn’t we be so cute together? look how big my hand is compared to theirs!” he exclaimed, his hand engulfed in yours.

“nah, you guys wouldn’t, sorry he’s so annoying, (name). no wonder why getou gets more hoes than you,” shoko said, pulling out a single cigarette and a lighter from her bag. her auburn eyes met yours, “want one?”

“shoko! how many times do i have to say not to smoke? and (name) is young too!” utahime sighed, earning a small ‘sorry’ from the girl. the black haired teen peered over at you, another sly expression settling over his face.

“say, satoru; let me compare hands with (name) too, i want to see something,”

“you can compare from afar,” gojo responded, pulling you closer to his side. a chesire cat grin split shoko’s face, slinging her arm over your body as well.

“cmon satoru, sharing is caring~” her body smelt of husky tobacco, traces of pinewood on her uniform. her breath smelt like strawberry bubblegum; her glossed lips came closer to your ear, “play along,” she whispered, her brunette strands brushing against your cheek. a snore followed by a scoff came from gojo’s scrunched up expression.

“don’t you have a bottle of vodka you should be downing? besides (name) doesn’t like girls like you,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

“well, why don’t we ask (name), what do you say?”

“don’t put them on the spot like that; seriously, you guys, you’re third years for pete’s sake,” utahime swatted shoko’s arm off your body whilst poking gojo’s side, making him squeal as he let go of you. a frown replaced his usual cocky expression.

“geez utahime, i didn’t take you as the jealous type- ouch, what was that for?” gojo exclaimed, the water bottle bouncing off his head. he rubbed his head. you stared at haibara’s sympathetic expression, still processing everything that happened within a matter of minutes.

just what the fuck was going on?

weeks had passed since that incident and things had become fairly normal again. your grades were flourishing, with the help of haibara and nanami. the three of you have been hanging out more often; utahime and shoko finally started dating. the two of them occasionally tagged along with your trio. gojo has finally stopped pestering you; you should be happy, no? you had convinced yourself that you didn’t miss the attention from the white haired teen. everything you did felt empty without his presence.

you had memorized each hallway gojo and his group walked down, passing through them; in hopes he would stop you, calling your name in his usual whiny voice. you didn’t hear his favorite song; no more him bringing you close with his lanky arms. subconsciously, you brought your hand close to your shoulders, feeling the ghost of gojo’s touch. “(name)? what are you doing here? more like, why are you standing there?” a feminine voice called out. you turned, seeing shoko standing down the hall, her bag slugged over her shoulder, a lit cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips.

“shoko,” her name left your lips in a hushed whisper. “why are you here?” she quirked her lip to the side, pursing her pink lips.

“i’m heading to see menace 1 and menace 2, now, answer my question. you hardly come around these parts,” shoko said, leaning against the wall.

“can i come with you?”

“huh… ah, you miss gojo?” overwhelming amounts of embarrassment washed over your expression; you could already sense your face radiating in heat.

“whatever! i just want to check up on him, that’s all.”

walking down the road, you and shoko conversed, her short auburn tresses blowing in the wind. the roads and sidewalks were painted orange as the sun nestled under the skyline.

“i thought you stopped smoking?” you asked, as shoko tossed the finished cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping on it.

“i’m trying for utahime, but it gets hard when i’m stressed, you know? especially with dumb and dumber,” she said, pulling out a silver flask.

“shoko!”

“what? do you want a sip?”

“no!”

sitting at the park, getou and gojo awaited shoko’s arrival. squinting his eyes at the distance, getou spotted two figures walking towards them. “looks like shoko has company,” getou mentioned, looking back at his taller companion. a frustrated groan left gojo; his glasses slipping down his face.

“good god, if she brings utahime again,” he responded, extending his arms on the bench, his legs spread out. a sly smirk twitched onto getou’s face.

“hey shoko and (name)!” getou exclaimed, waving. gojo’s half-lidded eyes shot open at your name, adjusting his sunglasses. his lanky body rose from the bench, straightening out his sluggish position. he cleared his throat, crossing his legs over each other. upon seeing getou and shoko greet one another, your eyes drifted off to the white haired male sitting in the background, avoiding eye contact with you. a crestfallen expression washed over your face, shuffling over to gojo.

“hey, gojo,” you said softly, sitting across from him. he let out a hum of acknowledgement before looking down at the painted bench. “why have you been avoiding me?”

“why have i been avoiding you? i don’t know (name), maybe just maybe, it’s because i don’t want to bother you with my advances, y’know? could be a contributor i guess, i don’t know, it’s a mystery,” gojo responded, traces of sarcasm in his usual bright voice. he was quite literally a child, huh? your mind recoiled, a frown twitching onto your face. is this who you really want to date?

“listen, i know, and i’m sorry; i just miss you a lot, okay? i like you by my side,” you muttered the last part to yourself. unfortunately for you, gojo had heard every single bit of it.

“huh? what did you say?” he teased, resting his hand on top of yours. his glasses slide down his nose, revealing his ice blue eyes. “you like me, eh?”

“don’t push it.”

the winter semester rolled by rather quickly. walking into the heated building, you removed your outside shoes and scarf. after preparing yourself for the long day, you walked down the hallway, spotting your group down the hallway. peering over the group, gojo waved at you with a big smile, his cheeks and nose tip flushed red from the cold. “babe!” he said, walking over to you with opened arms. heat rose to your face, as he wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with small kisses. his cold fingers cupped your feverish skin. “my own personal heater,” he said.

“hey, get a room, you two,” shoko said, pulling out an unlit cigarette. utahime frowned at her, as shoko mumbled a small sorry before putting away the cigarette.

“i know miss locking lips isn’t talking,” gojo sneered back. “guys look at how cute (name) is compared to me! their hands are so small!” he gushed, pressing your warm hands against his.

if it were you four months ago, you’d rip away your hand in disgust, however, a warm smile split your face, holding onto his long slender fingers.

“look they are even holding onto me,” gojo said, as the bell rang. everyone shuffled around to their respective classes as you and your group stayed at the end of the hall. with a smirk, his white eyelashes fluttered under his sunglasses. they slowly went down his nose bridge, exposing his beautiful eyes once more. “get to class.”

#gojou satoru x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #shoko x utahime #jjk geto #jjk nanami

[shidouryusm]

GENTLE GIANT.

Pairing: Aran Ojiro and F!reader(not really that significant)

Content: Fluff just fluff, readers been feeling really low, this gentle giant helps them feel good.

A/N : just wanna thank @omismuse shawtyy somehow inspired me to write this. Take it boo. Have y'all seen post timeskip Aran. I'm pretty sure I fell in love with that man.

The day couldn't get any more worse for you. With a blunt headache and a sore body from crouching on your desk and looking at your laptop for hours, you felt you couldn't process anymore. Your train ride was silent as well. You just wanted to step on to your house and do nothing. The workload wasn’t even that bad today relative to your mood. It’s just that, you have been feeling really low for some reason. The confident aura you always put up seems to scuttle away somewhere. These days, whenever you put up an outfit, you cannot help but feel like you’re not made for it. Whatever you do feels wrong. Ignoring for a few days felt like a temporary relief till now when it feels like all the negative feeling just doubled up and fell over you. Today was the worst.

Stepping into the threshold of your doorstep, you gave out a huge sigh. Today was your duty to make dinner, as you and Aran often alternate the household work. You consider telling him to do that and knowing him, he would do that but that felt wrong too. You decided to gulp some Motrin to reduce the pain and get on with it, not feeling to disturb Aran further as he seems to be extra busy these days as well. Ringing the doorbell, you slump your head on the side wall. Soon the door opens and the light behind is engulfed by your gentle giant, Ojiro Aran. His eyes crinkles and he gives you a soft smile as a sign of welcome. Despite the tiredness sheathing your body, you involuntarily feel a little good seeing his presence. His body blankets you into a huge bear hug. You give out the weight of your body and he holds you in. He could feel the tiredness emanating from you. His heart twinges a little as he sees you like this. He knows you've been feeling low and he also knows it's a inside feeling that moves on its own and he can’t put up any action to make it go away in a jiffy. He has been noticing your demeanor but he had been too busy to do anything these days. Not tonight though.

“Love, you look so tired. Let’s go and get some rest." He said as he stroked your arm soothingly. You could melt in his touch.

"Aran, its my turn today to make dinner, remember?" you said as you entered the house and took a seat at the shoe case/sofa fype thingy( I have one at home and I literally don't know what its called but I hope you get the gist).

He looks at you concerned.

"How about you go and get a warm shower first? You look like you're about to collapse." He said, patting your head. You nod and head to your shared bedroom. Simple task like this seemed a lot for you but you definitely were looking for a good shower.

Meanwhile, Aran Ojiro got to work. The little aesthetic aroma candles that you bought for decorating were lit, he made a very simple dinner with some bread and eggs and a cup of tea for both of you, he went out to your balcony, the little hydrangeas and roses and belly flowers bloomed elegantly. He plucked a few of them and placed them on the table. The room was giving out a sweet fragrance. He hummed in satisfaction. The calming old songs playlist both of you always loved was played on a low volume. He dimmed the lights and waited for you to make your entrance.

You, on the other hand, let the water flow freely over your body. Letting it wash away all the fatigue it possibly can. You got out of shower, seeing that Aran already had put out your clothes. Really simple and comfortable pair of pajamas and a loose t-shirt. He knows you so well. You smiled at this as you dresses yourself in the comfortable attire and went out. Not expecting the ambience waiting for you at all.

You stopped dead at your tracks. Aran was looking at you smiling, he was wearing an outfit somewhere like your type. Loose plaided pajamas and a t shirt, yet he looked so divine like men in suits do as he went on arranging the plates and glasses. Your ears heard the tranquil tone of the playlist and you just looked in awe at how amazing the whole dining and living room looks. The sweet smell of belly flowers hit your nose and you actually felt like you're levitating. This was all so soothing to the nerves that had been overworking these past few days.

Aran proceeded towards you and enveloped you into another big hug and gave you a little peck at the forehead. His big buffed up demeanor melted with you and he hugged you a little bit tighter, pulling you close to him. He kept rubbing smooth circles at your back and swayed with you a little. Peppering your face with kisses, you closed your eyes, savoring the moment and this divine feeling. The movement was very subtle. You were resting your head in his chest and he cradled your face like its an expensive porcelain and needed much care.

He then started moving, hands on your waist, he moved you around the space in your living room. The room was flooded with embers of golden light from candles and the dimmed lights. He moved you around with the beat of the song. Smoothly gliding along the carpeted floor, you half laughed at his antics. Eyes still closed. 

“hey, love.” he calls for you as he craned his head towards you and kisses your eyelids.

You look up to match his contact, once you lock eyes with him, you felt the world momentarily pause. The eyes had nothing but adoration and love filled to the brim, all for you. His eyes spoke a lot. The way he reassured you with those looks was something phantasmagorical.

At that moment, everything was paused for you. The earth could cease to revolve and you couldn’t care less as you were floating in the deep sea of love in his eyes. The music became a background setting for you. The dinner left untouched. Now was your moment. The deep coloured eyes boring into your as he moved you around and often twirling you elegantly, never losing the eye contact.

He places on of his large hands on your waist and one trailed towards your arm. He raises your arm along with his and intertwines his fingers with yours. Engulfing them. He smiles at how little you look and how precious you are. His heart finds a little relief as he watched your content face, all the worry seeming to obliterate from your face. He then whispers into the air,

“You are so beautiful” He let the words hang into the air. You felt heat pooling in your cheeks and suddenly his eyes seemed to intense for you. The overthinking aura, the low feeling all come back as you look away from him.

He was surprised for a fraction of second before he goes on tucking his hand under your chin and says,

“Don’t, my love, you are gorgeous. I know it. You know I am always here, beside you, walking with you, hand in hand.”  he tightened the grip of his intertwined hand with yours. These were mere words but yet had a striking effect on you.

Tears welled up at the corner of yours eyes at his words. You look up again to meet his eyes. His handsome features striking, his eyes speaking affirmations to you. You nod. He brings you closer to him and swayed a little.

“Let’s have the dinner, its quite simple actually” he shrugs. 

You smile in return. How happy is heart is seeing you like this.

“Its okay, today’s been tiring so a light dinner is always welcome”

 He bumps his head lightly against yours and noses your cheek. Moving from there to your lips where he places a reassuring kiss and smoothens your hair strands between his fingers.

You can’t expect a better place than this. A place full of tranquility, safety, pure love , adoration and trust.

What could be better than your gentle giant and his affection.

*I just loved writing this for some reason*

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

#samwrites #aran ojiro #Aran X reader fluff #Aran x reader #haikyuu fluff #oneshots #Fluff #haikyuu comfort

[ff-imagines]

Can i request some nsfw headcanons for mantis shrimp? I read through your blog and let me just say: I'm a big fan. Btw if you dont wanna do them thats fine as well

Salt and pepper shrimp: nsfw alphabet

I did the whole alphabet bc? Why not! Side note I rly wanna write a fic going off my thoughts ab his experience level >:)

A - aftercare

Look, getting him to release you from his hold to go to the bathroom on a regular night is a battle enough. After sex? Phew I wish you luck. Might wanna just put some water on your night stand beforehand. You would be able to convince him to take a bath with you pretty easily though, he likes how the warm water feels very much. Make sure to cuddle him in the bath still, he's in a very vulnerable state right now and he really needs some good old tlc.

B- body parts

he’s got a weird fixation with your hands. He likes to compare hand sizes, whether your hands are bigger or smaller isn’t what he likes, he just likes to admire them. He loves sucking/biting your fingers while he’s got you in his lap. Lacing your fingers with his with one hand while bringing the other to his cheek, nuzzling into your hand while he bounces you on his cock.

On himself, there is tragically little that he genuinely likes. He views himself as a weapon, getting him to unlearn that will not be an easy process, trust me, Boston has tried. Complimenting his eyes does seem to make him a little more flustered than other praises, and he has a hard time staring you in the eye during sex…. maybe we can start there.

C - cum

His cum is pretty thin but there’s a shit ton of it. Enough that if he cums inside you swear you can feel the warmth as his cock pours rope and rope of his seed into you.

He doesn’t actually care where he cums, just ask him and he’ll comply.

inside you? sounds good.

On your back? Say less.

On the floor? You’re cleaning it, but sure.

He did discover he’s got an affinity for watching his cum on your tongue. I don’t know how you’d be able to swallow it all, but any attempt you make will be met with shrimp getting hard all over again.

D - dirty secret

He secretly thinks it’d be really hot for you to dom him. It’s gonna take a very long time before he’s comfortable letting you have that Linda control over him, just the thought of being tied up, hands behind his back while you praise him for being such a good boy, its a fantasy he’s visited on many sleepless nights.

E - experience

Nope. Nada. To be frank, I think he’s the definition of Demisexual, and he has yet to meet anyone besides Boston and the anti-human gang who he genuinely wants to get to know better. He definitely hasn’t met anyone who wants to get to know better for romantic reasons.

He doesn’t know enough about human customs to know that it can be embarrassing for someone to be inexperienced, but he does feel very very nervous the first few times. He’ll need a lot of reassurance, give him praise and he’s putty in your hands.

F - favorite position

I'm gonna be boring and say missionary. It’s simple, easy, and since he’s brand new to all of this it’s the least mentally overstimulating. He very much likes that he can see your face.

If he’s feeling extra spicy he might grab onto the inside of your knees and push you into the mating press, though he really only does this if he’s upset or jealous.

If you ask nicely he might let you sit in his lap, as a treat. Bouncing on his cock as he litters your chest with bite marks, what a treat it is <3

G - goofy

…. yea for sure definitely. He’s a real jokester.

On a serious note, he himself is not a goofy person whatsoever, but he would actually like it if you were. Outright making fun of him or harsh teasing is an immediate turn off, but light jokes to ease his nerves is for sure welcomed since he’s very tense the first few times.

Give him time and you might even catch him cracking a small joke himself, all the while giving you a weak, nervous smile.

H- hair

He doesn’t trim or shave anything lmao. He’s busy, and also doesn’t care literally at all. He’s got a thin happy trail that can be easy to miss since he's blonde.

He’s got the same energy with your body hair, he doesn’t care. If you do shave he might ask why, just out of curiosity. If your reason is insecurity, he’ll probably suggest you let it grow, he doesn’t care and he’s the only one who’ll ever see it lmao

I- intimacy

It’s an awkward “i hope to fuck I’m doing this right” kind of intimacy. He fumbles and messes up a lot, he might even accidentally miss when thrusting and end up just kinda rubbing himself on you but he’s really trying. Just from the fact he’s willing to try this at all with you is a big sign that he’s really trying his best to be as intimate as he can with you.

J- jerk off

Before meeting you, not a lot actually. He mostly just did it if he ever woke up from a wet dream and knew that if he didn’t take care of it now he’d never be able to get back to sleep.

After your first time together, his first time, he thinks back the immeasurable pleasure a lot, finding himself in need of relief a lot more than he ever did before. You are the catalyst to his drive, and you are also the only thing he can think about that can help him cum. It’s kinda sweet in a perverted way.

K- Kinks

He will bite you. It’s just so easy to bruise you and it makes your relationship status to others so obvious, he can’t just… not bite you.

Marking, going along with the biting kink. This goes both ways, he’d love for you to scratch at his back enough to leave red marks, to bite as his collarbone, grip his hips tight enough to bruise. He likes looking at the marks later, they remind him that he did good, he made you feel good, that’s all he really wants.

He doesn’t exactly have a breeding kink as much as this goes along with the marking aspect. Suggest to him that he cum deep inside you to mark your insides… he might give you 2-3 loads just to make sure you're nice and full, completely claimed.

He also kinda likes to make you cry. Overstimulating you to the point of tears gives him a sense of pride he hasn’t really felt before.

He really likes temperature play as well, dragging ice cubes and hot wax across your skin and watching you flinch and squirm just does something to him.

And of course, light bondage. He probably found out it was a thing after reading some kinda erotic fiction and immediately went to you like “why did you not tell me about this?????” He adores how to look all tied up and stuck, right in the palm of his hands. It makes him feel emotional as well, that you’re willing to give him such a powerful amount of control over you.

Last but not least, please praise him. During sex as well as day to day. Let him know he’s so pretty, he’s doing so good, he’s cock feels so so good, he might cum on the spot.

L- location

The first time he’d really need it to be in a secluded, safe area. He’s gotta feel comfy if he’s gonna get into the mood.

Every other time? Babes you’ve awakened a beast, he’ll get random spikes of “if I don’t at least try to fuck them I will scream”. You could be in the middle of a forest running from an axe wielding murderer and this horny bastard would still find a way to pull you aside and rail you against a tree.

There most likely isn’t a spot in your home that he hasn’t fucked you against.

Peaceful moment of washing dishes? Think again, he’s plopping you on the kitchen counter and diving to mouth at your neck.

Writing some papers? Just sit on his lap, you’ll feel much less stressed with his cock buried to the hilt, won’t you?

Doing laundry? Might have to rewash them cause now he’s using the clothes as a bed to fuck you on. He’ll apologize and help you fold them after they’re rewashed bc he feels bad lmao

M- motivation

Like I said, he’s set off by the smallest things. A little stretch, wiping some water off on your pants, humming a song, all of it can randomly make him feel the need to fuck you.

The most intense and quickest way to rile him up is either playing with his hair, or massaging his back. It starts out innocent but he just can’t take the thought of your pretty hands working so lovingly and not at least trying to reciprocate and make you feel good too.

N- no

No sharing. He doesn’t want someone else to see you, and he doesn’t want someone else to see him. It’s just not something he likes.

He also hates humiliation. He… would tolerate it if you asked for it, even if he doesn’t get why you’d want him to outright insult you. But for himself? Fuck no, he hates it so fuckin much. He’s a sensitive insecure puppy that wants your attention very badly, pls don’t hurt him like that :(

O- oral

Oh please give him oral. He’s begging. Well, he’d never outright beg but the way his eyes fixate on your mouth a lot is his way of silently pleading for you to wrap your lips around his cock. His soul ascends a little every time he sees his cum dribbling down your face, he might be even willing to make out with his cum still on your tongue.

As for giving, he’s got no clue what the hell he’s doing but he’s nervously eager to try. Guide him as best you can, he’s good at measuring your reactions so he can handle the rest. Tug on his hair a little bit if you wanna drive him crazy.

He’ll get a lot better with time, his eagerness to please however, does not leave him in the slightest.

P- pace

The first time? Slow and unsure, then he realizes “oh fuck this feels stupid good” and his pace becomes almost punishing. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s unknowingly going deeper and harder than you've ever been dicked down in your life. If you want him to, somehow, go harder? Grab his hand and place it over your stomach to make him feel his cock enter you through your skin, his hand slides down to grip your hips and slams into you, wiggling his hips without withdrawing to gain some of his sanity back before he’s back to a punishing pace.

Q- quickies

Oh hell yea. He lives for them. Sudden moments of horniness come to him all the time and since this spike in desire is brand new, he hasn’t really… learned to live with it yet. He pulls you aside into closets and alleyways all the time, he can’t help that you feel so warm and snug :(

R- risk

He doesn’t exactly enjoy the thought of a voyeur, he really doesn’t want to share you with anyone. But… there is a deeper part of him that finds a sense of pride if someone were to hear you getting absolutely pounded by him, desperately crying out and whining for him to go deeper, even better if they were someone who pined for you….

S- stamina

Well, to be frank he cums pretty quickly. It’s all so brand new to him, he really can’t help it. Lucky for you, his refractory time is crazy low. He can cum once, watch you do some mindless motion you always do and he’s right back to being hard again in minutes.

T- toys

Not against it, but is again, brand new to all this shit. He’s very interested in using your own toys against you though. Would definetly use a vibrater to edge and overstim you. He’d be interested in a cock ring, only if you were willing to endure a vibrator while he fucks you, he doesn’t wanna be the only one struggling lmao

U- unfair

He can be, yea. He kinda likes edging you, but not as much as he likes overstimulating you.

He loves to hear how you beg under him when he’s pulling you so close to the edge, keeping you just far enough to drive you insane.

Overstimming though? The way you twitch and beg, how your chest heaves and your mouth hangs open into a silent scream, eyes shut tight and watering, now that’s the good shit.

V- volume

Doesn’t talk much, but for sure gives out a lot of groans. This is something he’s never felt before in his life, the first few times you're going to get a lot of whines and surprised yelps, check up on him and make sure he’s still doing alright, he’s just very nervous.

As he gets more comfortable, he gives you quiet praises and promises to make you feel good. He also groans quite a lot, but since his voice is deeper it can be hard to catch.

W- wild card

He really wants to try using his prosthetic arm for temperature play, he’s just not at all confident in himself enough to bring it up. He likes the thought of you jumping and squirming under his touch, for now he can just stick to wax play.

X- X Ray

Mans is actually pretty fuckin big. He’s got no idea how big he is though. If you were surprised and a little nervous about his size he’d be pretty confused, is there something wrong? Did you change your mind? The concept of him being well above average is something you’ll have to explain later. It boosts his ego quite bit, even if he’d never admit it.

Whine about him being too big and you can just see the pride swelling in his chest, giving you no mercy with his thrusts.

Y- yearning

Often. Very very often. He’d fuck you multiple times every day if he had the time. However, you’re both busy, and you’d probably get a UTI with how many times this man wants to dick you down lmao. He’s got his cock buried in you at least 4-5 times a week.

Z- zzz

Actually pretty quickly. Even if he prefers being in control during sex, he kinda likes being the little spoon as he drifts to sleep. Give him some soft praises about how well he did and he’s turning into jello in your hold.

#food fantasy #food fantasy x reader #ff salt and pepper shrimp #ff salt and pepper shrimp x reader

[themcuhasruinedme]

I Wanna Take Forever Tonight

[Summary]: You and Scott get slow and sensual

[Paring]: Scott x reader

[Word Count]: 2,727

[Warning]: SMUT, NSFW (18+ ONLY), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, people!), toy play, masturbation, porn watching

Tagging: @dividedwecantfall @peterman-parker @avengerofyourheart​ @metalarmproblems @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @that-sokovian-bastard @hellomissmabel @abovethesmokestacks @beccaanne814 @hymnofthevalkyrie @buckys-shield @callamint @redgillan @iwillbeinmynest @aubzylynn @sgtbxckybxrnes @avengersnthings @feelmyroarrrr @girl-next-door-writes @honey-bee-holly​ @fvckingavengers​

A/N: Gif was made by yours truly! This fic kind of came out of nowhere but I can say that the song “I Wanna Take Forever Tonight” inspired it (if you wanna listen to it, look it up.. links apparently still don't work in posts) and the idea for it never left my head.. I don’t think this really has a plot behind it, which is most unusual for me, so enjoy this straight up sin wagon I decided to write! Lol!!!

You did it. You finally broke down and got one. You looked around the big room of the Tower to make sure no one was around as you secretly tried to carry the small box back to your room, face a little hot and slightly red knowing what it harbored inside.

Closing your door behind you and locking it just in case anyone were to try and get you while you opened up the box, you breathed a sigh of relief that so far you were in the clear of taking out your very own rabbit vibrator.

Taking it out of it’s own box, you held it in your hand and gently stroked it, feeling how soft the silicone was. Setting it aside, you took out the instruction manual and started to read it while also taking out the charging cord to power that baby up.

“2 hours to charge??” you read out loud and sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll have to wait until tonight to use it then.” Placing it in a spot that no one would see it, you left it alone and closed the door to your room.

Later that night after everyone had come back from a fun and somewhat drunken night out, you went into your room after saying your goodnights and closed your door immediately but didn't bother locking it, thinking everyone was too drunk off their asses to leave the couches. You then had dirty thoughts of the one person who you wanted so badly, fill your mind as you unplugged your vibrator from its charger.

Only thing was, was that after you left, Scott came wandering in the Tower by himself because he spent that night taking care of Cassie. Seeing everyone practically passed out on the couches, he sighed, shook his head and silently went into his room to get ready for bed.

After putting on a cute bra and panty set made of satin and lace, you grabbed your laptop, laid down on your bed and got on a porn website to start the fun. You first watched a couple videos doing nothing but rubbing your clit through your panties to start getting the feelings going.

Grabbing your vibrator, you turned it on to the lowest speed and slowly moved it up and down your clothed folds, feeling yourself getting more wet. You took one of your breasts in your hand and started to rub the nipple between your fingers, making it hard. You sat up and slowly took the bra off, the air making the other nipple sensitive and hard. Placing your back against the wall, you turned your vibrator on to the next speed and pulled your underwear aside, your body and throbbing pussy feeling so many different things all at once as you placed the head of the vibrator on your clit.

You let out a few moans and shifted your hips, grabbing hold of your pillow while your breathing started to get heavier with each second. Pulling off your underwear completely and tossing it to the floor, you rubbed the vibrator up and down your wet folds arching your back some as you felt your body tense up. 

Laying back down so you could get a better position, you opened up your pussy lips and placed the vibrator back on your clit, screaming out in pleasure into your pillow. You then slowly slid the vibrator into your throbbing pussy, letting the little rabbit do his thing. 

Blood coursing through your veins and electricity shocking through your entire body, you pressed the button once more reaching the highest speed and sending even more shockwaves through you. Your mind started to fill with thoughts of how you wished it was Scott that was deep inside you and hearing him make the same delicious sounds that you were making.

Pulling the vibrator out and placing it back on your clit made you scream out Scott’s name... just as he was passing by your room coming from the bathroom. He stopped by your door a minute, wondering if he really heard you calling for him and if you did, were you possibly having a nightmare.

Opening the door a crack to make sure everything was ok, he couldn’t help but get wide-eyed. Seeing you in all your glory, he could feel his own body start to tense up. As he watched you keep working at your clit with the vibrator, moans and heat filling the air, he grabbed hold of his hardening cock and slowly started to stroke it.

You arched your back again as you slid the vibrator back in, breath hitching in the back of your throat. Pumping it in and out as it hit your sweet spot having moan after moan escape you, it made Scott get harder by the second. Getting on your hands and knees, you kept pumping it as Scott’s name breathlessly came out of your mouth.

“Scott... Oh god, yes... Scott, yes... harder.. harder.. faster...,” you moaned.

Scott stroked his hard cock as fast he could, your words ringing through his mind, imaging what your wet pussy would feel like around his shaft. As he kept going, he let out his own moan which made both of you stop dead in your tracks. You immediately pulled out your vibrator, shut your laptop, threw on your shirt and underwear, opening the door to find Scott still there, frozen from fear.

Both of your faces looked red from embarrassment. “Scott.. wha- what are you, uh.. what are you doing here?” you managed to stammer.

He looked down and pursed his lips together, not knowing what to say. His mind on the other hand did the reacting for him and before another word could come out of you, his lips landed on yours. A little shocked but not backing out of it, you closed your eyes and let him sweep you in his arms as he deepened the kiss.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he closed the door behind him and flopped you on the bed, his lips now moving down your jawline. You ran your fingers through his dark brown hair as you bit your lip, feeling his breath heat up your skin. Reaching your collarbone he stopped and looked at you with those piercing green eyes that you swore you could get lost in, and you gently placed your hand on his cheek. 

Gently sweeping some hair off your forehead, Scott smiled at you making you smile back. He slowly ran his thumb over your lips as the two of you literally got lost in each others eyes. It almost felt like time just stood still. 

“Wait,” you whispered and got up, opening your curtains and turning off the light; the full moon now the only thing casting light into your room.

You laid back down and he encased your lips in another slow yet passionate kiss, gently gliding his fingertips down your side until they reached the hem of your shirt. He slipped his hand under the cotton material and traced shapes on your side, making you softly moan into his kiss which made his cock twinge.

Breaking from his lips, you sat up and took your shirt off revealing your body to him. He slowly looked you up and down, his eyes taking in every inch of how beautiful you were. You helped him take his t-shirt off and both of you laid down on the bed with him hovering above you. Those green eyes glistened in the moonlight and you couldn't help but be in awe of their beauty.

Scott sat up and pulled you up to him encasing you in his arms, your breathing slowly coming together and taking in each of your scents; Scott smelling the the light floral scent of your shampoo and you breathing in his lingering cedar wood body wash. Feeling his warm breath on your shoulder, you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and gently ran your fingers along his spine.

You then started placing gentle kisses on his collarbone, making soft moans escape his lips. You could feel his cock start to harden a bit through his boxers against your wet folds. Slowly you slid your hand down his chest stopping right at the hem, goosebumps now crawling over his skin. Taking in a deep breath, you slid your hand into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his shaft keeping eye contact with him. Scott sharply sucked in his breath as you started to slowly pump it.

Feeling him get even harder under your touch made you so wet that you needed him to know just how wet you were. You quickly let go and slid your panties off, placing Scott’s fingers in your wet folds making moans come out of both of you. Quickly pulling his hand back, slipping out of his boxers and having ��you lean back, he let his fingers do their magic and what magic they did.

Scott slowly slid his fingers back and forth through your wet folds and played with your clit, making the room fill with your moans of pleasure. He then grabbed one of your breasts and kneaded the soft flesh, the nipple getting hard within seconds. You started to grind your hips back and forth as his fingers still toyed with your clit, feeling your body shake from the pleasure. 

“Scott... oh god.. yes... Scott.. that feels so...,” you started to say but was cut short with a loud moan as you felt him slid a finger in your pussy.

“Oh god, [Y/N]... so wet, baby.. so wet and tight...,” he muttered as he then moved his hand over to give your other breast attention.

He slowly slid his finger in and out of your pussy as his thumb went to work on your clit. You leaned back a bit more to give him a better angle and felt your vibrator behind you as you moved your hands back to brace yourself more. Grabbing it, you handed it to him. Giving your breast a break, he took it and turned it on, placing it on the underside of your breast, moving it around your stomach and sliding it up and down your inner thigh, turning the speed to its highest as it got closer and closer to your clit.

Scott had you lay down, came over to your side and placed your hand on his hard shaft. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as you started to stroke it. You on the other hand inhaled sharply as he slid another finger in your pussy and placed the vibrator on your clit, electricity going through your entire body. Running the vibrator up and down your pussy, getting you even more wet if that was even possible, Scott took his fingers out of you and slowly slid the vibrator in.

A loud gasp erupted from the back of your throat as the sensation reeled through you. Scott climbed on top of you, pinned your arms back, entangled his fingers with yours and encased your lips once again in a passionate kiss as the vibrator built up the hunger inside you of wanting Scott to fuck you badly.

“Scott... please.. I want you... in me...,” you whimpered as he pulled away. Giving you a devilish grin while lustful green eyes stared back at you, Scott couldn’t help but become undone hearing you beg for him.

“Is that what you want? You want me that badly?” he asked as he teased your pussy, placing his cock by your entrance and letting the vibrations make him tingle from head to toe.

He slowly pulled the vibrator out and entered you, your pussy taking in every inch of his shaft. Giving you a minute to adjust, Scott started off with slow and gentle motions, making you feel like you were a delicate flower to him. As he found his rhythm in his slow thrusts, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how you thought he would be more wild and faster but in actuality he’s the sort that takes his time and worries about hurting you, even though his teasing game was completely different.

“[Y/N]... my baby [Y/N]...,” he whispered as he pushed some hair off your face and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

Sliding out slightly, he had you turn on your side and hug you from behind still slowly thrusting while every few minutes, he’d pick up the pace a bit. Scott slid his hand down to your clit while the other kneaded your breast and he placed soft kisses on your shoulder up to the nape of your neck. You let out a moan as his fingers circled around your clit, feeling your core heat up once again.

Scott pulled out completely and had you turn to look at him, placing your hand on his cock feeling how slick it was covered with your juices. You sat up on your knees and slowly licked the tip, making Scott arch his back a bit. Taking it even slower in your mouth, you could feel him writhe under you, feel his cock twinge in your mouth.

Hitting the base of his shaft with your lips, almost hitting your gag reflex, you slowly came back up and released him with a pop making Scott see stars. Taking your tongue, you licked the vein from base to tip then placed gentle kisses on it, Scott bunching the sheets in his hand and running his fingers through your hair.

“Oh, god... shit [Y/N]... that.... that feels so... feels so good...,” he said in between grunts and moans.

Placing him in your mouth once again, you bobbed you head slow a few times, picked up the pace a bit then slowed it down. You did this several times feeling Scott tense in your mouth, edging him to his climax. Letting him go once again, you climbed on top of him straddling his hips and gave him a sly smile, your pussy aching for him to enter you.

Taking his hardness in your hand you rubbed the tip along your wet folds, moans escaping both of you and slowly lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock, feeling your soft flesh spread over him like honey. You start to rock your hips back and forth, finding your rhythm, pinning his hands above his head.

Encasing his lips with yours, your body thrusts in synch and guttural moans being swapped in each others mouths, you could feel the build up of your own climax as your core heated up even more.

“Play with me, Scott,” you begged, pulling away from this kiss.

Releasing one of your hands, Scott slid a finger in your pussy feeling your warm slickness and slowly circled your clit. A shaky moan hitched in the back of your throat as you felt your insides spark and heat up like lightning starting a wild fire. Scott picked up the pace a bit with your body shaking from the reeling sensation and pleasure.

“Oh god.... Scott... yes, Scott..”

“[Y/N]... I’m getting.. I’m getting close... c’mon baby..,” Scott said between thrusts.

Feeling your body shaking all over, you knew you were about to go over the edge as well. Just one more minute. Just one more. One last thrust had you screaming out Scott’s name as he emptied his seed in your aching pussy, which in turn made you go over the edge and had Scott screaming your name as he felt your walls clamp around his shaft.

Scott pulled out of you and sat up, pulling you close to him as your body shuttered from riding out your high. You snuggled into his chest, feeling his heart slowly returning to its normal rate while having the rise and fall of his chest almost lull you too sleep.

He got up to go clean himself off and put his boxers back on, disturbing your sleepiness which was a good thing because you needed to do the same. Scott got back to the bed before you did and you found him practically passed out already, half snuggled under your blanket. You smiled and shook your head, putting your underwear back on before getting under the blanket with him hoping this moment could last forever.

#marvel imagine #avengers imagine #scott lang imagine #scott lang x reader #scott lang smut #marvel smut #scott lang x reader smut #scott lang

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

matching tattoos

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k (the longest i’ve done in a while whoo 🎉)

"Stevie, I don't think your mom will be too happy with me if I let you do this," Harry said, eying his two year old daughter. She had been asking about it for weeks, but so far he'd been able to distract her before you caught wind of their conversation.

"Pleeeease, daddy?" She pouted, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Why don't we have some cookies instead, love?" 

"No." 

"Ummm... oh! I know what we can do! Why don't we go in my studio? You can play the piano, or the guitar, maybe sing a song for me..." He trailed off.

"I want to do this! Please?" 

Harry's heart melted in three seconds flat. How could he say no to her? He tried, he really did. He opened his mouth to say "no, mommy will really kill me, why don't we do something else?" but one glance at her sweet face left him speechless. He couldn't do it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Alright, we'll do it... but!" He cut himself off, raising his voice slightly to be heard over her excited cheering. "But! We only have two hours til mommy gets home." She nodded eagerly, bouncing on her feet. 

"And if we do this it has to be our secret, mommy can't know. Can you keep this secret?" He said, making a very serious face. 

"Yes!" She squealed, giggling. 

"Pinky promise?" 

She beamed, holding her tiny hand up to his. He wrapped his finger around hers, squeezing for just a second before releasing her. 

"Go get the markers then, we have to work fast!" 

Stevie screamed in excitement, running as fast as her little legs could carry her. He heard her digging around the art room, probably making a huge mess, before he heard a scraping noise on the wood floor. She was pushing a box of markers that was nearly as big as she was, groaning dramatically. 

"It's... too... heavy," she panted.  "Please help!" 

Harry smiled, leaning down to pick up the box. He scooped her up too, settling them both down on the table. 

"Alright, Miss Styles," he said, adapting a posh accent. "This is a proper tattoo parlor, so we shall do this properly, hm?" 

She laughed, kicking her feet. 

"I want the mermaid!" She said, pointing to the ink on his forearm. 

"Patience, Miss Styles," He smiled, wetting a paper towel under the faucet. "First, we have to get your arm ready!" 

She held out her arm, tracing her little fingers over his other tattoos as he wiped her wrist with the cloth. 

"So, the mermaid, hm? You have excellent taste, Miss Stevie," he joked, throwing the towel back to the sink. "What color?" 

"Black, like yours," she said, smiling sweetly. 

He felt his heart squeezing as he reached for a black marker. She was so precious. He would do anything, literally anything, to make her happy. He knew it was probably dangerous, how much power this two year old had over him, but he didn't care. He had been in love with her since the day she was born; since the first time he had looked at her. 

"We can match, look at that!" He said, beginning to draw on her arm. "Did you know that I love you sooooo much?" 

"I love you too, daddy," she giggled. "And that tickles!" 

"Oh, it tickles, does it? Should I stop?" He hovered the marker over her skin, glancing at her teasingly. 

"No!" She yelled. "I want to match you!" 

"Alright then," He said, laughing as he went back to his task. "Why don't we listen to some music?" 

"Yeah!" 

"What should we listen to?" 

"Your song, the fire!" 

"The fire?" Harry looked up, confused. "None of my songs have fire in them, bug." 

"Yes," she said stubbornly. "And the fish!" 

Harry thought for a second before it clicked. "Do you mean Adore You?" 

"That one!" 

"You're right," He laughed. "That one does talk about fire. I'll get it, yeah?" 

He set down the marker, picking up his phone. After a minute, she was dancing in her seat to the drums of Adore You. When the chorus came on, she sang "walk through fire for you" while looking at Harry triumphantly. 

"Did you know this song is about mommy?" He said, focusing on his drawing. 

"Really?" She asked incredulously, eyes wide. 

"Really! It's about how much I love her." 

"Yucky," She said, scrunching her nose.

  "Yucky? That's not yucky!" he exclaimed. "It's nice!" 

Stevie hummed, kicking her feet along with the music.

   "It's yucky." 

"Stevie, you're hurting my feelings!" He said, gasping and clutching his chest dramatically. "I can't go on," he sighed, throwing his other arm over his forehead. "I'm sorry, daddy," She giggled, reaching up to pull his arm back to her. "Keep going!" 

He smiled, adding the finishing touches to her drawing.

"And... there we go! One mermaid, just for you." 

She beamed, holding her arm next to his to compare. 

"Daddy... your mermaid has no clothes. She needs some." 

"How about you draw her a shirt?" Harry laughed, handing her the marker. She furrowed her brow, focusing intently on her task. 

"Good job staying in the lines, love!" He said, ignoring the scribbles around the outline. "And you were right, it does tickle." 

"I know!" She laughed, giving the marker back. 

"What now?" 

"The... the heart!" She said, pointing the the small filled in shape on his upper arm. 

"Sure, that's an easy one." 

He proceeded to give her at least ten more matching "tattoos", including a cross, an anchor, a poorly drawn rose, and the green bay packers logo. 

"Daddy!" She gasped. "I have a idea!" 

"What's your idea, princess?" 

"The butterfly! On my belly!" 

"You want a butterfly on your belly?" He asked, lifting his shirt to show her his. "Like this?" 

"Yes!" She clapped. "Like that!" 

They were having the time of their lives, drawing and singing as loud as they could to all of Harry's songs. He loved watching her face every time he finished drawing. Her eyes would light up and she would pull his arm to hers, showing him how they matched. Every time a new song came on she would squeal and kick her legs because "it's my favorite song!" 

They had just finished making silly noises together at the end of "Sunflower" when Harry heard a noise. He froze with the marker on her arm, looking up quickly. 

He reached over to pause the music, holding a finger to his lips when she whined at him. He glanced at the clock, hoping he was just imagining things. You weren't supposed to be home for another hour. But no, that was definitely the sound of the front door opening, followed by your voice calling out a greeting. 

"Mommy!" Stevie shrieked, launching herself off the table. 

"No!" Harry hissed, grabbing her before she could run off. "Stevie, we have to wash this off!" 

He scooped her up, running up the stairs to the bathroom. 

"Harry?" You called out. That was weird. You could have sworn you heard them in the kitchen. "Stevie?" 

"We're- we're upstairs, love!" Harry yelled back. "Just cleaning up!" 

Cleaning what? You wondered, but didn't dwell on it for too long. It had rained recently, so they had probably gotten muddy outside. 

You made your way to the kitchen with the grocery bags, beginning to put everything away. Then you saw the box of markers. You narrowed your eyes, confused when you realized there was no paper around. What had they been drawing on? 

Up in the bathroom, Harry was starting to panic. He had set Stevie up on the counter while he was rubbing at the ink with a washcloth. 

"It's not coming off! Why isn't it coming off? The box said washable!" 

"No, don't take my mermaid!" She cried, pushing his hands away. 

"Stevie, love, I'm sorry, but we can't let mommy see these. Remember? They're secret tattoos." 

"Mommy will like them! They're nice," She pouted. 

"No, I don't think she will," Harry said, laughing nervously. "Maybe if we..." he grabbed the bottle of soap, dumping some onto the cloth. "There we are! Whew," he sighed in relief. "Good thing that worked, or daddy might have been sleeping on the couch tonight." 

Just as he was lifting her off the counter, he heard a knock at the door.

  "Harry? What are you doing in there?" 

He swung open the door, smiling charmingly. 

"Just a little cleanup! We... spilled some yogurt. Right Stevie?" 

She nodded, looking up at you innocently. 

"Ok... why were there markers all over the table, but no paper to use them on?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Uh... we were going to color, but then... the... yogurt explosion..." 

"Oh, I see," you said, still suspicious. "Stevie," you said, kneeling down to be at her eye level. "Is daddy telling the truth?" 

Harry held his breath. Stevie was notoriously bad at lying. Usually, Harry was thankful for this, but right now he could do with a little fib.

"Yes mommy, yogurt went everywhere," she said, eyes going wide as she mimicked an explosion with her hands.

You smiled, straightening up. 

"Well, I'm glad you got it cleaned up. I'm going to go put the rest of the groceries away." 

Harry exhaled as you got to the bottom of the stairs. He quickly lifted Stevie up, spinning her around. 

"Thank you, Stevie. You're such a sweetie," He said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She giggled, wiping her face and wiggling in his arms.

"Let's go see what mom bought us!" He said, bouncing her as they ran downstairs. 

Harry thought he was in the clear. He really did. He had managed to scrub off all traces of the marker, including the scribbles drawn over his own mermaid. Luckily, Stevie was true to her pinky promise and didn't say a word. She told you about how they played outside and what books they read, but said nothing about the makeshift tattoos. She was good at being sneaky.

By the time Stevie was yawning, Harry really though everything was fine. When you went to change her into her pajamas, he settled into the couch to find a movie. 

Everything is fine, he thought. You had no id-

"Harry!" You yelled from down the hall. 

He hopped up from his seat, rushing to Stevie's room. 

"What is it?" 

"Harry," you said, turning towards him slowly. "Why does our daughter have a huge butterfly drawn on her tummy?" 

So close.

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #stevie #stevie fics #fluff #fluffy #harry styles x you #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #dad!harry

[write-ur-wrongs]

Mother, Mother pt.2

A/N: Finally ready to post part 2 of my dad!Geralt fic!!! Part 2 is loosely based on this prompt Another request with baby!👀🥰 Reader has a newborn and geralt is just watching them thinking about how much have changed and how reader turned his life around...🍪 so I really want to thank that anon for their prompt and their patience! I definitely took some liberties with this story and worry the plot got lost along the way(?) but I really hope you like it nonetheless! Full disclosure I haven’t proof-read this piece so forgive the many typos!!

__________________________________________________________

“I said, no,” Geralt repeated himself slowly and with great authority, “thank you.”

The village healer looked at the witcher with eyes wide in disbelief, unable to accept that there was anything a witcher wouldn’t do for coin. Especially this witcher – the White Wolf – or so they used to call him. He used to be a force to be reckoned with on the continent, but now it seemed there was rarely a job he’d be willing to take.

“No? B-but who will help us!” they shouted desperately, “you can’t just leave this village to fend for itself! The creature will kill us all, Witcher!”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before repeating himself yet again. “Please understand, I can’t help you, but I know people who can. Eskel is highly qualified and will be here by the next full moon. He will help you; I assure you.”

“But you’re here now,” the healer said, still shaking his head, “you could resolve this by nightfall! Why should these people wait a week for peace?”

“Hm.” He growled, lowly, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from giving into his rage and his pride. He wasn’t just living for himself anymore, not just living for the coin or by the witcher’s code; he had a family now.

He knew the world wouldn’t be easy to convince regarding his change in career path. Hell, it had taken most of your pregnancy to convince his brothers at Kaer Morhen of his plans. When he first told them you were pregnant, and it was his, they laughed heartily while sharing quick looks of concern between one another; fearing you’d strayed and were trying to play poor Geralt for a fool.

Yet that reaction was nothing compared to the one they gave him when Geralt admitted that his days of being a witcher were over. He’d be a consultant now. He’d travel the continent only when he heard of monsters through Jaskier’s letters, and once he reached these villages, he’d take stock and refer the case to one of his brothers, who’d pay him a modest commission for the referral. Geralt never took contracts he deemed to be too dangerous (which, so it happened, was most of them). The rule was if he wouldn’t readily bring Cirilla along to help, it was too dangerous for him alone.

Once, he let pride take precedence and he accepted a contract he knew was dangerous. It felt good to be back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. He and Roach took to the forest like birds on a breeze, and his sword was just an extension of himself as he wielded it fiercely and with grace.

While he did conquer the beast in the end, it did put up quite a fight, and everything he thought made the fight worth it was washed away the instant he limped into your home and saw the look on his pregnant wife’s face and heard the cries of his beloved child surprise. To this day, he still feels the panicked sound of Ciri’s fearful shriek and your horrified sob weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He felt this very weight now as he considered this desperate healer’s words. Yes, he’d handled this type of monster many times before, but it wasn’t worth it.

“Listen to me, this type of creature is only a threat during a full moon,” Geralt said, “just educate your people, spread the word, you’re in a position of authority here – use it.”

The healer sighed deeply before muttering to themselves in frustration. They pulled their cloak tighter around their body and made a scene of grabbing the coin-filled sac from the table. Geralt rolled eyes his at the paranoid healer before gesturing for them to head outside.

“Fine, leave! But if you leave now and anyone dies, their blood will be on your hands!” shouted the healer, as Geralt tended to Roach.

Geralt rolled his eyes before mounting Roach, urging her onto the trail.

This isn’t my fight, he thought, and their people will be fine.

You were having a wonderful morning. Wren slept through the night for the first time in who-knows how long, and Ciri was relaxing as she entered her fifth day without a magical episode; those lessons with her aunt Yennefer were definitely paying off.

Now you were savouring the gentle afternoon breeze, resting your knees in the cool earth of the garden as the sun warmed you from above. You loved harvesting produce and tending to the flowers; this year was especially bountiful thanks to a rainy spring and temperate summer. As you picked tomatoes off the vine, you smiled softly at the sound of Ciri celebrating a successful hit on her target across the yard.

Meanwhile, Wren played happily in the dirt at your side. She’s been sitting up on her own now which was such a thrill. Such a small change, but it granted you freedoms you didn’t know you’d been missing.

“Mama, snek!” Wren squealed, proudly holding an earthworm up at you. You laughed in relief upon seeing what she was holding up – for half a second you thought she’d managed to snag an actual snake.

“Wow my girl,” you cooed, “what a find!”

At the sound of your praise, Wren smiled up at you brightly and closed her little fingers around the earthworm with pride.

“Careful now, love! Don’t harm it,” you said, gently prying open her stubby fingers and releasing the worm back into the soil, “these little guys play an important role in the health of our garden.”

“You know she doesn’t understand you, right mom?” Ciri said a little breathlessly after stabbing her sword into the earth.

“I don’t think we can say that with certainty, Ciri. She is a witcher’s daughter after all, we are in for a lifetime of surprises I’d say.” You replied with a small shake of your head. Ciri rolled her eyes at you before making off towards the house at a run.

“Cirilla,” you warned, “don’t leave your sword in the yard! And wipe it down before you take it in – I don’t want dirt tracked in again.”

“Mom!” she groaned, stomping back to get her sword. “Witchers don’t need to do these ridiculous chores…” she said under her breath.

“They don’t get warm meals or comfortable beds either!” you replied in a sing-song, knowing it would drive Ciri crazy – you hated when she grumbled at you. Ciri had great respect for her father but would sometimes treat you like you were nothing more than a headmistress at school. Having spent time with witchers and sorceresses alike, scolding didn’t command respect; at least when you played it light it got her attention.

“Yeah – I know! I’ve lived those lives!” Ciri shouted, storming back towards the house, sword in hand.

Fuck. You forgot she was there when Cintra fell. How could you forget?! She was alone and, on the run, and oh gods if Geralt had been here and heard this he’d –

“Ciri, wait, I’m so sorry. I’m –”

“Sounds like someone could use some help.”

You stopped cold at the sound of the strangers’ voice. It ran through you like mead – ice cold but left a strange burning sensation in its place. Ciri also stopped in her tracks, dropping her hand from the door but keeping a firm grip on the helm of her sword. Ciri cast a quick glance at the stranger standing on the edge of your property before settling her nervous eyes on you.

You did your best to evoke confidence before turning to see this stranger for yourself.

It was Visenna.

Again, you did your best to seem confident as you addressed your eldest. “Ciri,” you said, not taking your eyes off the druid, “take Wren into the house, quickly!”  

“Mom?”

“Cirilla please, take her and go into the house,” you said, impressed at your ability to keep your voice level. “And take your sword with you,” you added, turning to give her what you hopped was a look that encouraged her to stay calm and be careful.

Ciri said nothing but scooped her sister up and onto her hip with one arm while keeping her sword steadily by her side.

Once you heard the door close, you cast a quick glance to make sure your girls were safe before turning your attention back to the woman standing at the gate.

“Why are you here, Visenna?” you asked, holding your head high despite the fact your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Oh child,” her words dripped with condescension, “I never expected my son to write me back, but I had hoped he’d share the contents of my letter with his wife.”

“He told me about the letter,” you said, giving her a tight close-lipped smile, “in fact he told me all about you. So, I’m going to ask you again, why are you here?”

“If you know about the letter, then you know why I’m here.”  

“Could you be so cold as to have you forgotten your history with your son? The way you left him to be tested on like a rat? You have no right to be here.” Your voice cracked as you finished your last sentence, and Visenna tilted her head at your sign of weakness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. You weren’t there -”

“Neither were you!” you spat; with a harshness you didn’t think you had in you.

“Hm.” Visenna crossed her arms and watched you closely through narrowed eyes. You hated that she reminded you of Geralt as she seized you up – the had the same mannerisms, the same affinity for the non-verbal. Geralt could never know.

The druid’s scrutinizing glare made you squirm, and when you broke eye contact with her for a moment of reprieve, she moved to open your gate. For the briefest moment, your panic left you paralyzed as you watched the woman begin a confident stride towards the house.

“Stop!”

You whipped your head around as you heard Ciri come bursting out of the front door. She was wielding her sword up in front of her with one hand while the other hugged Wren onto her side.

“Do not come any closer, I am warning you!” she shrieked, her light eyes wild as her mousey hair blew behind her.

“Ciri-” you tried, holding one hand out to calm her.

“No!” she yelled, keeping her eyes and her sword fixed on Visenna, who was now standing stock-still at the gate.

“Stop trying to tame her, dear,” Visenna interjected. “Let the lion cub roar.”

At the sound of her old nickname, you took in a sharp breath and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It felt like the world stopped turning as Ciri reacted to the trigger.

Cirilla could handle discussions about her old life in small doses and only on her terms. Whenever the dreams came to her, it would take you hours to calm her down. More often than not, the episodes left you and Geralt drained and deeply concerned. Yennefer was really the only person Ciri responded to, and while her methods and lessons have helped, sometimes the pain brought on by the memories was simply too great.

Now, as the four of you stood in your garden, you could feel the earth begin to vibrate beneath your feet. Ciri’s jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils were flared. She slowly knelt down and placed Wren onto the ground before standing tall once again.

“Do not call me that.” She seethed, voice dripping with magic.

“Come now, child,” Visenna replied, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing, “I am your grandmother. I can help you; teach you.”

“You are not my grandmother!” Ciri shrieked, pushing a violent wind towards the druid which forced her to take a step back. “Get out of here! Leave!”

“I – I don’t mean any disrespect, Ciri. The Lioness was –”

“Ciri, no, wait –”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt the burning rush of Ciri’s magic roar past you and tried desperately to keep your eyes open so you could see Wren. Though your eyes stung against the harsh blast Ciri was emitting, you saw Wren crying soundlessly behind her sister, her chubby hands reaching out towards you in desperation. You tried to step towards her but an invisible force pushed you to the ground. You pulled yourself up on one elbow and tried to reach towards your baby without luck. Everything was burning and it took all of your strength to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s blast of magic shot at Visenna like a bolt of lightening. Out of the tip of her sword and from her outstretched hand came a bright blue flame surrounded by pulses of violent wind. The destructive blast uprooted the gate and surrounding fence, throwing them back into the forest beyond. Burning shrapnel and earth flew towards her at breakneck speed, but the druid reacted quickly, pulling a portal with the help of an amulet and escaped the blast.

The garden in the path of Ciri’s blow burned harshly – leaving nothing behind but ash; except for the pocket where you lay. You tried to call out to Ciri to calm her down but there was no air for you to draw from. You let the force of her magic hold you down for a moment, trying to recuperate your strength, and when you looked up again you saw Wren taking a few wobbly steps toward her sister.

Holy fuck, you thought. These were her first steps.

You watched with wide eyes as Wren took step after step towards her sister, whose magic raged on. You were so drained by the weight of Ciri’s magic that you were convinced your eyes were deceiving you.

You watched in disbelief as Wren took step after step towards Ciri. The moment her little hand reached her sisters leg, the spell broke and Chaos released its hold on Cirilla. Drained from the exertion, she lost consciousness and started to collapse in on herself, her sword falling from her hand and onto the ground with a dull thud.

You scrambled to your feet and raced to Ciri, dropping to your knees once you reached her to catch her in her fall. You smoothed the ashen strands out of her face and rocked her gently from side to side, breathing shakily through your silent tears. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but when Wren waddled her way to you and nestled onto Ciri’s lap to press her face into the crook of your neck, you were sure you’d be crying forever.

“What the fuck,” Geralt growled upon seeing the destruction as he rode up to the house from the trail. In a growing panic, he urged Roach into a canter. When they got to where the gate should have been, he dismounted and ran towards the house at a sprint, his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw you sobbing on the ground with an unconscious Ciri and weeping Wren, he lost all control.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?! Who did this?” he shouted, panic rising. When he spotted Ciri’s sword on the ground, Geralt fell to his knees beside you and quickly scanned you all for any sign of injury. You were weeping, holding tightly to Ciri, who was unconscious, and Wren, you

“Y/N please talk to me,” he said more harshly than he meant it, while brushing wild strands of hair out of your face gruffly.

“Ciri, she um –” you choked, working to slow your breathing, “she lost control of her magic…”

“Yeah, I can see that, love.” He said with an incredulous laugh, his eyes scanning your ruined garden with disbelief. “What the fuck happened to make her so upset? Did – did she have a nightmare? Did you, hm, say something to her?”

“Geralt – no,” you said quickly, the tears you managed to calm coming back with a vengeance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I just…” Geralt regretted the insinuation that this might have been your fault but he’d only ever seen Ciri’s magic be this destructive when she was afraid or hurt. He was at a loss.

You shook your head and turned in his arms to look back at him, readjusting Ciri and Wren in your arms to free an arm which you placed onto Geralt’s chest. You held his eyes and took a steadying breath, unsure of how he’d react.

“We – we were in the garden just, just like always and,” you cast a quick glance down at your daughters before bringing your eyes back up to Geralt’s, both to ground yourself and to hopefully remind him of their proximity in order to temper his reaction, “and Visenna appeared at the gate.”

He gasped sharply at your words, and his body around you. You brought your hand up to his face and tried to calm him. His cat-like eyes were wild and unfocused – he looked like a frightened child and it broke your heart to see him like this. Wren seemed to sense this too, as she scrambled up and reached towards her father’s hair.

Wren’s light tugs managed to pull Geralt out of his shock momentarily and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. Seeing this change, you gently redirected his attention back to you.

“Visenna came for Wren… T-to take her or, or to raise her or something? She mentioned the letter…” Geralt clenched his jaw at the reminder.

You hadn’t motioned the letter in months. Geralt wasn’t at all ready to welcome his mother back into his life, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

“What did she do to Ciri? I swear I’ll –” he seethed.

“No, no, Geralt,” you interrupted gently, moving your hand back to his chest, “she didn’t get the chance. I don’t know what she was going to do, but Ciri came out with her sword,” you stopped short to look down at her with pride, “to protect us.”

“She did?” Geralt let out another incredulous breath, shaking his head at his child surprise.

“Yeah, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her magic, it destroyed everything in its path but somehow, she was sheltering me from the blast. Visenna escaped through a portal, I- I think? But Ciri was… unstoppable.”

“Y/N, if Ciri was able to harness Chaos like this at her will, to protect you; this could mean –”

“Oh no, love, I’m sorry I’m not telling this right. She came out of the house with her sword to protect us but she lost control when Visenna called her the Lion Cub.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” you agreed emphatically before adding, “and then she called herself Ciri’s grandmother…”

“Fuck!”

“Right,” you sighed, shaking your head as a shudder ran through you.

“Da-ee,” Wren said suddenly, pushing her little hands into her father’s face, causing a shocked laugh to escape his lips. Geralt’s face softened in a way he reserved for his youngest daughter and the sight of it was enough to pull you out of whatever was left of your panic.

“Oh, gods!” you exclaimed, “Geralt you won’t believe this.”

“Hm?” he hummed, not taking his eyes off Wren; he was completely enthralled by his baby.

“She took her first steps – and, gods it was incredible Geralt – when she touched Ciri, it pulled her out of the trance!” You gushed breathlessly.

“She did? That’s my girl!” he beamed, earning a proud giggle from the toddler. “Fuck I hate that I missed this, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, goose?” he said, peppering light kisses across Wren’s little face.

“I know, love.” You said softly, leaning into his arms once more. “I’m so relieved to have you home.”

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get our girls into the house.” Geralt said as handed Wren off to you before picking Ciri up gently as he stood. You took his outstretched hand rose to your feet along-side him. “I’m not leaving you again, I promise.”

“Geralt, you say that every time.” You tease lightly, holding the front door open for him.

 “No, I mean it this time Y/N, really.” He said quietly, as he laid Ciri down in her room. “I can’t keep doing this. When I’m gone, all I do is think of you and the girls…” he trailed off when he noticed Wren had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled tenderly as you watched him cradle her into his strong arms.

“My love, you know you’d go crazy if you stayed here with us all the time.” You said as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to you.” he whispered.

“Hey now… we’re fine,” you tired to reassure him, “today was an anomaly. I doubt Visenna would try that stunt again. Ciri will be fine, she just needs to rest, and tomorrow we can send word out to Yen for support. We – “you paused to take a steadying breath, “we can’t let fear rule our lives, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, setting Wren down into her bed before wrapping his arms around your frame, “now when did you get to be so wise?”

“A certain witcher taught me a few things,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips, “always preaching something or other but sometimes the lessons stick.”

“Is that so?” he growled, a fighting back a smirk of his own.”

“Hmm,” you teased, kissing him deeply.

#geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #Dad!Geralt #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #Cirilla of Cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #witcher cirilla #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #fanfic

[kimistorm]

Late Night Shenanigans [Minho x Reader]

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Lee Minho x GN! Reader

Warnings: mentions of really drunk people

When Lee Minho invited you to the house party on Friday night, you didn’t expect it to end up with you staring in shock as he absolutely teared up the dance floor. Which, when looking at the grand scheme of things, was an underwhelming patio in the backyard surrounded by drunk people shouting with excitement. You watched in awe as he executed sharp moves that matched perfectly with the beat. Never over-dancing and always looking clean and awesome. When he started bodyrolling you had to put a hand up to your face to hide the blush (not that anybody was looking at you).

The song ended and with a raucous cheer and an epic final pose, he sidled away from the crowd, finding his way next to you. “How long have you been hiding that?” you asked as you gave him a light punch with the hand that wasn’t holding the cup full of dubious liquid.

“Hiding what?” he questioned easily as he leaned against the wall next to you. He didn’t even break a sweat, not that it was easy to tell from the feeble porchlight several feet away.

“Your sick dancing skills?” you gestured to him wildly.

He had a devious smirk on his face as he looked at you, “you thought they were sick?”

“I mean yeah,” you busied yourself with taking a sip of your drink, “that was amazing.”

His smile softened and he shyly ducked his head like one of his cats that he adored, “thanks. Not many people think so.”

You choked on your drink, “what?” you wiped some of the liquid from your drink and let out a couple coughs, “who am I beating up?”

He let out a laugh, “with your scrawny arms?”

“Hey!” you shouted in protest and tried to tackle him into a head lock, “these scrawny arms are gonna drag you back home!”

He continued laughing as he easily batted your arms away, “you can hardly lift your backpack half of the time!”

“Shut up!” your cup was sitting abandoned on the table next to you as you tried to tackle your friend. Key word being try.

Eventually you gave up and you fell into a comfortable silence as you watched a guy in a horse mask attempt some kind of noodle-arm wave in the center of the dance floor. Most of the crowd was too wasted to even notice how bad his dancing was as they excitedly cheered him on. “Hey,” you poked Minho’s side and he immediately flinched back with a light squeak, “when was the last time you drank water?”

“When was the last time you drank water?” he countered.

“You’re the one who just had a dance session over there,” you jerked your head to the rowdy ‘dance floor.’

He sighed and pushed himself off from the wall, “all right. I’ll find some water,” he glared down at the liquid in your cup, “don’t drink that. I’ll get you some water too.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as he left your side and you put down the sketchy cup. He did have a point, it was not a good-tasting drink, but you wanted something to do with your hands. You watched the party rage on in silence. The sky was dark and the lights from the porch drowned out most of the stars. The last time you checked, the party inside was getting a little out-of-control as people started chugging beer and throwing the empty (and not empty) bottles around. You decided to save yourself from a potential injury, you’d flee outside.

“Heyyy,” you cringed as a drunk fellow made themself comfortable in the place where Minho was standing, pushing themself closer into your personal space.

“No thanks,” you replied and inched towards the light. You’d brave returning into the house if that got you away from this creep.

“Aww come on,” you could literally smell the alcohol on their breath, “you’re alone. I’m alone. How about we do something fun.”

Now you were taking actual steps back towards the house, “not interested.” You told him as forcefully as you could.

“Your boyfriend,” you felt a hand grab your wrist and your heart rate jumped. You twisted your hand around and used the flat side with your pinky as leverage to force his hand off of yours, “he doesn’t need to know.” You had to give him credit for being able to finish his sentence, but a lunge towards you made you leap back in fear.

“Too late for you,” you turned and felt security wash over you as you saw Minho standing by your side with two sealed waterbottles in his grasp, “because he already does.” Upon seeing Minho’s dark glare the drunk person scampered away.

“Thanks,” you replied with relief as he handed you a waterbottle.

“Do you want to head out now?” he asked as he jerked a thumb in the direction of the front door.

“If you’re ready.” You shrugged non committedly, not wanting to take the fun out of his night, especially since he was the one who invited you.

He gave a nod, “let’s go.” The two of you made your way through the house out the front door, waving goodbye to friends (Seungmin seemed to be the only sober one left out of all your friends) and stepping carefully away from fallen cups, cans, and people. “Thanks for coming with me,” he smiled as the two of you walked through the streets back to your homes.

You smiled, “thanks for inviting me! It was fun!” He fixed you with a disbelieving look, “okay, the most fun part was watching you dance.” You finally conceded.

“Are you okay with crashing at my place for the night?” he suddenly asked and it was your turn to fix him with a concerned look, “it’s closer.” He offered, and after a second of you contemplating it he added, “Soonie, Doongie, and Dori miss you.”

You couldn’t help the squeal from your lips as you thought about his three cats, “aww, I miss them too!”

A hand slipped into your own and the two of you carelessly swung your hands around, enjoying the quiet night and the calm, dark atmosphere. It wasn’t long until you arrived at his apartment and he quickly unlocked it, the click of the deadbolt almost echoing down the hall.

As to be expected of cats, when the two of you entered his home, they were nowhere to be seen. Making you doubt Minho’s statement that they missed you. “Do you want to shower first?” he offered after the two of you ditched your shoes at the rack near the door, “I’ll find you a towel and you can borrow some of my clothes.”

“Are you sure?” you were nervous about feeling like you were intruding and he took a moment to fix you with a deadpanned look.

“Why else would I offer?”

You ducked your head in embarrassment, “okay. Thank you.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between the click of a tongue and an adoring coo as he pulled you in for a hug, “don’t worry about it. You’re not a bother.” You comfortably wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his hoodie that only slightly smelled like sweat. “Now go take a shower,” he gave you a light shove in the direction of the bathroom, “I’ll find the towel and clothes and put it outside the door.” It wasn’t your first time in Minho’s apartment, so you easily found your way to the bathroom, and as you shut the door behind you, you could’ve sworn you heard him mumbling things under his breath.

You quickly changed out of your clothes and hopped into the shower, wanting to go quick so Minho didn’t have to wait as long. The warm water felt nice, it washed away the chaos and sweat from the day and the bodywash you used felt like a warm hug. Probably because it smelled like Minho and he reminded you of warm hugs.

When you emerged from the warm stream of water and into the foggy room, you found he had already slipped in a small stack of fabrics with a toothbrush on top. The shower curtain was opaque, so you didn’t worry he saw anything. Plus, the way it was crumpled made it look like he shoved it in without looking at what products it knocked off the sink.

You quickly finished cleaning up and came out of the shower wearing one of Minho’s hoodies and sweatpants. You found him preparing the sofa with some pillows and blankets, while Dori supervised. “Hey there,” you smiled as you made a beeline for the gray cat and began running your hand over Dori’s soft fur.

“Told you they missed you,” he gave you a soft, somewhat tired smile as he watched you play with one of his babies.

“Where are the other two?” you asked as Dori purred in your hands and you couldn’t help but smile and coo at the youngest cat.

“Soonie’s asleep over there,” he pointed to the scratching post with a little house perched on top in the corner of the room, “Doongie’s eating food.” He vaguely pointed towards the kitchen, where the cat food also had a permanent spot. “Jisung is going to show up at some point.” He explained as he got off the sofa to take a shower

Ah, that explained why he set up the pillows and blankets, “what’s wrong?” you asked as you curiously tilted your head to the side.

“Something about being scared of the dark and Chan not having enough sofas.” He shrugged before disappearing into the bathroom. You planted yourself on the sofa with one hand still absentmindedly petting Dori before turning on your phone and browsed through the chat messages from the group chat.

There was an annoyed meow from Dori before the gray cat scampered away, probably upset from you removing your hand to send the text. “Doongie!” you called out into the apartment, getting off of the couch to find the ginger and white cat. Just like Minho mentioned, you found the cat by the food, eating some of the dry pellets. “Hey there,” you smiled as you rubbed the striped cat, who happily nuzzled into your hand.

Your attention was broken by a knock on the door and you quickly headed over to retrieve your drunk friend. When you opened it, you saw Chan looking bedraggled as Jisung clung to his side. “At this point maybe you should let Felix crash here.” You frowned as you took note of how tightly Jisung was holding onto Chan.

“He’s passed out in my car,” the dark haired man explained, “I don’t know how he’ll take waking up to a place he didn’t expect to be in.”

You gave a shrug, “I mean, he’s been here before.”

“Are you telling me I dragged his butt up here only for you to tell me to get the other kid?” Chan joked as he shook his arm that was captured by Jisung.

You laughed, “no, I won’t make you do that. Hey, Ji,” you tried to shake Jisung awake as Chan led him through the apartment to the sofa. The dark haired boy grumbled a bit and clung to Chan’s arm as he tried to pry him off.

You sniggered at the situation and tried to help with the situation, “I’m glad I won’t be Jisung in the morning.”

Chan let out a sigh as he finally got himself free by replacing his arm with one of the pillows, “me too.” Jisung let out another groan and buried himself into the corner of the sofa as you took the blanket and pulled it over him. “Thanks for taking him.” Chan mentioned as you walked him back to the door.

You shrugged, “it was really Minho. Good night Chan.” You gave him a quick hug in farewell.

He gave you a little wave as he headed back down to his car, “night (y/n)!”

The door to the bathroom opened the same time you locked the door to the apartment and you turned to see Minho smirking at Jisung, “he called me rhino.”

“It was more like ree no.” You disagreed as you went to the kitchen to fetch a cup of water and a pain killer. Chances are you and Minho would wake up before Jisung woke up, but you decided it’d be easier if he didn’t have to scrabble around the kitchen.

“How much do you want to bet that we’ll be woken up by something breaking?” Minho asked as you filled up a cup with water and he rattled a bottle of pills around to get out a couple.

“Let’s not entertain that thought.” You muttered as you switched off the tap, “I got a plastic cup for a reason.”

“Okay, then it’ll be the sound of him falling off the couch.” Minho snickered after the two of you placed the items onto the coffee table and headed farther in the apartment to his bedroom.

“That I believe.” You laughed as the two of you crawled into his bed.

Minho let out a content hum as he wrapped his arms around you, “good night (y/n).”

You smiled and tried to burrow into his hug, happy to be in his warm embrace, “night Minho.”

Shoutout to hanniiesuckle17 for helping me find an app for the text posts!

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids texts #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz fanfic #minho #lee minho #lee know #skz lee know #skz minho #reader insert #x reader #skz texts #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #minho x you #minho x y/n #kimi's writing