#(though both of them love to climb trees)

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

I think Ezra Bridger and Ty Blackthorn would be good friends 😌

[airawisteria]

[ID: 2 digital drawings of one of my OL2 MCs—Fatima. Fatima wears a sky blue headscarf and has a tan complexion. She has the same purpley eyes as Opal and she has a whiteish bandaid on her right cheek and her left middle finger and pinky finger. She is wearing a dark green hoodie and a sky blue shalwar kameez with yellow accents. A black cat with bright green eyes is next to her.

The two are seated atop a branch of a tree, surrounded by orange, yellow and red leaves.]

[cherry-shipping]

watching star trek with sans soooofun^________^

[itsaseamonster]

Assigned STR 8 at birth.

THEY'RE ALL SO FUCKING WEAK

[plutotheplum]

Winter's Kiss

sylus x fem!reader

summary: luke and kieran rope you into spending christmas at the n109 zone (and kissing their boss).

cw: fluff, soft!sylus, kissing under the mistletoe, luke and kieran being idiots, found family

wc: 2.7k

a/n: merry christmas eve/christmas my lovelies!! some fluff for the holiday season! here's to hoping sylus turns up under our christmas trees :)

also on ao3!

Somehow, you’d ended up in the N109 Zone for Christmas.

It wasn’t like the barrage of texts from Luke and Kieran had weighed upon your decision, the rapid influx of messages from the twins demanding your presence for Christmas. That coupled with the image of Sylus alone on Christmas night hadn’t made your stomach churn and heart ache at all.

The year had been a tumultuous one. Wanderers, disturbing visions and wanted criminals had you on edge these past few months, so perhaps unwinding with said, now somewhat mellow, wanted criminals was warranted in some way. 

You heft the presents under your arms, moving your fingers to stabilize the wrapped goods when you feel one of them begin to slip. Shopping hadn’t been too difficult, although choosing a gift for Sylus had proved to be somewhat of a challenge. You weren’t sure whether to get him something heartfelt or to gift him a refurbished gun with new prototyped features that were advertised to the Hunter Association. 

The glittering streams of tinsel drags you out of your thoughts, a smile pulling at your lips as you imagine Luke, Kieran and Sylus decorating. You hear panicked, hushed whispers when you turn the corner, a laugh spilling out of you when you see the sight before you.

Luke perched atop Kieran’s shoulders, Kieran grumbling irritatedly when Luke flails and misses the tip of the Christmas tree, the golden star falling off only for Kieran to shift and have Luke catch it.

“It’s not that hard, you idiot,” Kieran grunts, his knees bending in an attempt to readjust to Luke’s weight.

“Then you try!” Luke protests.

“I thought you two were meant to be in tune,” you muse, stepping closer, over the strewn wrapping paper and bending down to add your presents to the growing collection under the Christmas tree. 

“We are,” they both say in unison, their eyes landing on you.

“You made it!” Luke says happily, squirming, “Boss will be glad.”

“ Really glad,” Keiran adds, his annoyance forgotten momentarily. “We’re glad too.”

You smile at them, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s nice to see you guys too. Maybe you should try holding the star at the tip, Luke?”

“That’s what I told him!” Kieran says, letting out an aggrieved sigh. 

Luke huffs indignantly, adjusting his position yet again as Keiran steps closer to the tree, giving Luke some more leverage. It’s another failed attempt and Kieran is rolling his eyes, dumping Luke onto his feet unceremoniously. 

“You do me now.”

“What about her?” Luke asks, pointing at you.

“You could ask Mephisto,” you offer, pointing at the mechanical crow that was currently preening his feathers. “What do you say, buddy?”

Mephisto gives an indignant squawk, his little head turning away arrogantly, tending to his feathers with care.

“Nevermind,” you sigh, before looking towards the twins. “Kieran is taller than me, though.”

“Just get on,” Luke whines as he bends his knees, waiting for you to climb up onto his shoulders.

You open your mouth to protest, but there’s a warm hand curling over your hip, pulling you back gently, flush against a firm chest. “Let’s not badger our guest, hm?”

Deep and velvety, you have no doubts as to who this voice belongs to. Your head tilts back to find Sylus smirking down at you, his expression amused.

“Glad you could join us, sweetie. The N109 Zone isn’t usually so… festive.”

“Yeah, well, apparently you were missing me, so I figured I’d drop in,” you tease, a sly smile spreading across your face.

Luke and Kieran snicker until Sylus’ stern expression silences them, his hand squeezing at your hip in warning.

“I never said that.”

“Must’ve been the wind,” you murmur.

“Right,” Sylus deadpans.

You squeak when the red mist wraps around you, lifting you off of the ground, the golden star being thrust into your hand by the same swirling mist. The trio of men beneath you seem amused as the tendrils sweep you higher, closer to the top of the tree, giving you enough height to place the star right where it needs to be.

Sylus’ Evol dissipates as it sets you down onto your feet, the mist sweeping across playfully and making your dress flutter. 

“That’s one way to do it,” Kieran remarks, slinging his arm over Luke’s shoulders before they shoot each other knowing glances and disappear from the living room.

“You came,” Sylus says once the twins have left, his arms crossing over his chest.

“I did,” you reply, peering up at him, your hands clasping behind your back, “too bad you never sent me a personal invitation.” Sylus smiles, and you can’t help but think he looks softer in this light, the ruthless leader of Onychinus replaced by a man who seems less intense and more accommodating than usual.

“I figured Luke and Kieran would’ve gotten through to you,” he muses, his head tilting as he lets his gaze dip over you.

You do the same, taking in his sweater and trousers, trying to quell the inconvenient yet undeniable pull of attraction you feel towards him. 

“Well, they did,” you sigh, managing to drag your gaze back up to meet his, “although I can’t say I appreciated how many texts they sent.”

“The twins tend to get excited,” Sylus replies, reaching out towards you, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s hard to not notice how Sylus’ touch lingers for a moment, his expression looking a little absent-minded as though remembering something from the past. Your brows furrow, unable to decide between asking him or letting his touch linger further. His hand drops away after a few moments before he clears his throat. 

“I made dinner,” he announces.

You laugh, eyes lighting up at the thought of Sylus in the kitchen. You don’t quite believe him though, not when Sylus had enough money to hire at least a dozen personal chefs.

“You’re not serious,” you say, head tilting in amusement.

“I am,” Sylus smirks, his hand landing on your lower back as he guides you forward, towards the hallway, “Luke and Kieran pitched in.”

“Now I feel special,” you muse.

“I suppose you are,” Sylus replies, his expression sobering, “to all of us.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, heart giving way to a flutter that you attempt to squash down by pinching yourself, not that it helps. This sense of belonging isn’t what you’d planned on, warmth blooming in your chest as you stare up at Sylus and remember the twins. It’s nice, really, to be valued like this. You can’t help but think you could get used to it. 

Laughter echoes through the hallway as you and Sylus move through it. You startle when Kieran shouts, his voice urgent. 

“Don’t move!”

“Oh, look at that ,” Luke sighs dramatically, feigning innocence as he peers upwards, directing his gaze above you and Sylus.

Bewilderment flashes across your face until you hear Sylus let out a low laugh. You tip your head back, eyes narrowing when you spy the sprig of mistletoe hanging right above where you’re standing. Mephisto adds in something that sounds like a suspiciously happy squawk, and you stare at the crow, realising you’ve been betrayed. 

“Funny,” you say drily, shaking your head. 

Kieran sighs just like Luke, as though he can’t quite believe the situation. The cunning expression in their eyes gives them away. 

Devious, little brats.

“Well, you can’t move now,” Luke says, sounding positively aggrieved. 

“I suppose you’ll just have to kiss, isn’t that right?” Kieran says, looking towards Luke. Luke nods, a self-satisfied smile settling on his face. “Those are the rules.”

“What rules?” you shoot back, glaring at the pair of twins, “there are no rules. I could quite literally just walk away.”

“Christmas tradition !” Luke and Kieran both argue, their faces looking a little crestfallen when they hear the tone of your voice, “you have to kiss!”

You can feel your heart twinge at the earnest tone present in their voices, your eyes flickering up to meet Sylus’. Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to have any protests, his gaze boring down into yours expectantly. 

“You seriously have nothing to say?” you grouse, head tilting.

“It’s just a kiss, sweetie,” he replies, his arm wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. “What’s the matter, hm? Afraid you’ll fall for me?”

“The thought is laughable,” you retort, trying to ignore the soothing squeeze of his hand against your side; the unrelenting warmth that was currently seeping into you and melting your hardened resolve.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head. “We have time.”

“Move a little to the right!” Kieran calls out, waving his hand.

“What for?” you ask exasperatedly, feeling Sylus step closer, moving you with him.

“For- for the aesthetic !” Luke huffs out.

The twins look a little impatient as you stare at them, your brows furrowing further when you see Kieran whisper something to Luke.

Sylus doesn’t let you dwell longer on the twins’ antics, his calloused hand cupping your cheek to turn you towards him. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips slot over yours, your hand curling around his wrist. Sylus kisses you like he means it, lips soft yet insistent, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. You forget where you are momentarily, knees feeling weak as you fist his sweater pulling him closer, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kiss better.

Sylus tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your stubborn resolve weakens pitifully and you can only think about how perfect this moment is, how good Sylus’ lips feel, how warm his embrace is-

There’s a blinding array of flashes, white sparking out from under your closed eyelids until your eyes snap open, head turning to the side to find both Luke and Kieran with cameras in hand.

“Oh, shit,” Luke begins.

“I thought the flash was off,” Kieran mutters, frowning.

You grit your teeth, taking one step towards them, your eyes narrowing. “Give that to me.”

Luke and Kieran hug their cameras to their chest protectively.

“Christmas memories,” Luke laughs nervously when he sees the determination in your eyes. “Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want to lose those.”

Kieran nods in agreement.

“Boss!” They cry out when the cameras get swept out of their hands by Sylus’ Evol, one of them landing in your hands.

You click through the images, heat blossoming in your stomach when you see how intimate the kiss looks, Sylus’ body pressed firmly against yours, his hand on your cheek. It’s romantic, your somewhat eager response, Sylus’ tight hold, all captured closely through the lens.

“‘s nice,” Sylus murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back as he peers down at the little camera screen.

“ No ,” you shake your head vehemently, “it’s not nice.”

“We look good,” he whispers, his voice dropping lower, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your hips, his body pressing a little closer into yours. It’s hard not to agree with him the longer you stare at the images though, you do look good, and Luke’s interjection about Christmas memories has you feeling a little forgiving. 

“Fine, keep them,” you sigh, handing the camera back to Luke whilst Sylus does the same to Kieran, “but don’t share them, please.”

Luke and Kieran nod enthusiastically and you snag onto Kieran’s arm before he can leave, your voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Send them to me,” you whisper, “and not a word to anyone.”

Kieran smiles deviously and you roll your eyes, reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

“You’re such a jerk, Kieran.”

“C’mon,” he whines, “you love us.”

You smile up at him, your arm hooking with his. “Maybe just a little.”

He snorts and you let out a laugh, following after Luke and Sylus who had left earlier, talking about something else. Dinner goes smoothly enough and you refuse to tell Luke and Kieran what their presents are, despite their whining.

You feed Mephisto little bites of your food, your finger petting his little feathery head gently every now and then. He preens at the attention, letting out an odd sounding chirp every now and then when you tap his little beak and offer him some more food.

Sylus is seated beside you and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stop stealing glances at the side of his face. The longer you stare, the more you can feel yourself falling deeper, a pressing crisis unfolding in your mind. 

Fuck . You think you might like him.

Deep rooted feelings of yearning never lead to any good, and yet, you were too impatient not to act on them.You wait patiently, fingers playing with themselves in your lap, for the perfect opportunity. 

It presents itself when Luke and Kieran break out into an insignificant quarrel, their eyes moving elsewhere. Sylus is already looking towards you and you’re leaning forward, cupping the back of his head to bring him closer, lips meeting his in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“What was that for?” Sylus murmurs when you break away, his eyes roving over the flush settling on your cheeks.

“No reason,” you reply nonchalantly, leaning back in your chair.

Sylus scoffs out a laugh, behaving seemingly unaffected. There’s a light flush dusted across his cheeks however, his tongue darting out to taste the remnants of you on his lips.

“This is for no reason too,” he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.

You sigh contentedly when he kisses you, arms wrapping around his neck, your lips working against his a little feverishly as though you can’t get enough.

A cacophony of protests breaks out from the twins when they see you and Sylus kissing at the table.

“Gross! Get a room!”

You roll your eyes, breaking away from Sylus to peer over at them. 

“You were the ones that made us kiss,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean all the time,” Luke corrects.

“Deal with it,” Sylus interrupts, brushing a kiss to your cheek.

You hum happily, Sylus’ hand warm as it encases yours under the table. Luke pouts and Kieran mirrors him, both of them slumping back in their chairs.

You and Sylus get a little more privacy when you step outside, snow dusting across both of you, covering the shrubbery and trees. Mephisto swoops through the air, his mechanical wings flapping as he lands on a tree branch above. The icy chill of the wintery air isn’t so bad, not when Sylus is stepping up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you close to him.

“It was bound to happen,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again as you stare up at the night sky, glittering with stars.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” you reply, squeezing his forearms.

“Let’s just say… I had an inkling. I know you, sweetie.”

“I don’t understand what you mean sometimes,” you sigh, peering up at him, head resting on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, dropping a kiss to your temple.

You sway gently in his arms, pressing yourself closer, eyes slipping shut. You’d kill for more moments of peace like this.

It never seems to last for long.

The beginnings of torn wrapping paper begin to fill your ears and you peek through the glass window to find the twins tearing at their presents.

“Oh, these are sick !” Luke announces, beginning to twirl around the pair of knives you had gotten him.

“They have to wait!” you protest, reaching for the door, “Sylus, they have to wait!”

“Let them,” Sylus murmurs, dragging you back into his arms, his chest rumbling with laughter.

You can’t help but let out an exasperated noise, smiling up at him. Sylus lowers his head and you nudge your nose against his gently, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“What?” he asks quietly when you trace the curve of his cheek, your fingers splaying across his skin.

You kiss him again, revelling in the softness of his eyes when you pull apart. There's a strange warmth in your chest, an unknown pull in the back of your mind as though something familiar were evading you.

You feel like you know him too.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

[sexilene]

boy nextdoor!jj is so hot hehe him choking me while he fucks me in a matting press AHHHH. want to see him smirking down at me through his floppy blonde hair wet with sweat as he puts his other hand over my mouth so my parents don’t wake up :3

ohmygoodness stop it right now. the way i smiled reading thisss pleaseeee!!! adding this to the kinktober list cuz why not!! #19 (ignore any spelling mistakes sorry lol!)

anotha little boynextdoor!jj x girlnextdoor!reader thought ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

when your boyfriend does manage to sneak in through the window by climbing on a tree…he usually spends the night. your parents go to sleep fairly early, like soon after dinner early, so that gives you and jj some alone time in the dark without worrying about one of your parents randomly entering your room to check on you. it's happened before and though jj is getting better at running to find a hiding spot, it's is not ideal.

your parents figure you like to fall asleep to the tv you have in your room watching your little movies, and that it’s the movies making the little sounds. while that is true on some nights, this time around both the tv, you and your boyfriend are making sounds.

“jay!” you squeal when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending down again to press his flushed hard cock deeper into you. “shhh, gotta be quiet, like a little mouse, quiet okay?” he shushes you, your little movie still on in the background, providing a decent amount of light to illuminate his features and yours.

“uh huh…okay” you nod, still a little dazed due to the past two orgasms he gave you by fingering you a little over 20 minutes ago. once he pushes into your puffy pulsing heat, he wraps a strong hand around your throat and starts to squeeze down, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and grip the hand on your neck. jj is practically trapping you there, underneath him getting incessantly plowed by his big dick.

“wanna hold my hand?” he offers you the hand that’s not on your neck, you mewl at his sweetness, he’s still trying to make you feel as loved and safe as possible even if he is fucking you like he hates you.

“mhmm!”

“here babydoll” he takes your hand in his, the sounds of skin slapping skin faintly bouncing off the walls, not wanting to risk waking the whole neighborhood up with the way he really wants to be pounding into you right now.

your lips are swollen from his kisses, drool threatening to escape the corners of your lips, tear stains on your cheeks glisten due to the lighting, your hair all messy, and still jj thinks you look like the prettiest little thing.

“y’look cute, c’mere” your boyfriend grunts, pulling you up by your neck for another kiss, “harder jayjay, please harder!” you whisper, needy as ever.

“i know babe,” jj chokes you harder and uses his other hand to rub your clit in fast circles, “g’nna cum again!” you squeal out.

“gonna wake up your parents, hold on,” he takes his hand off your neck and covers your mouth to keep you from making any more loud noises, as much as he loves to hear them….

“alright kittie cat no more screamin’ or im gonna have to press your face into the pillow,” he whispers in your ear.

“mph- nmm” your words muffled by his big hand,

“yeaaaah good girl, almost done baby, just keep takin’ it…” he bends your legs back further into a mating press and starts thrusting in again. the position causing his dick to go in deeper and hit the spots that make you melt. that combined with the way both your bodies all sticky with sweat and how he smells all salty and musky, makes you roll your eyes back and then squeeze them shut.

“h-ha…shit, y’so warm and wet holy fuck i love you so much.” jj grits through his teeth, bringing that hand back down to play with your pulsing clit. you whine into his hand as you cum hardddd on his dick, squeezing him so hard he can barely pull out to thrust in again.

“shhh sh sh, there you go…reaaal yummy huh?” he coos, bringing that hand back up to choke you again, “baby girl likes getting choked huh? dont’cha?”

you try and make a sound but you just can’t with how hard he’s squeezing your neck. “yeeeeaaah she likes it, little pussy gushes on me when i squeeze your throat like…thisss…” he gives a few final hard sloppy thrusts, letting go of your neck to give you a breathing break, sweat dripping down his chest, before he shoots hot strings of cum into your cervix.

he doesn’t pull out to keep all that cum stuffed in you and bends down to give you wet sloppy ‘good job’ kisses, whispering an ‘i love you’ after every kiss.

“think we were pretty quiet this time?” your boyfriend whispers looking into your eyes, and all you can do is give him doe eyes, pout and let out a little “mph!” ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[munsonsmixtapes]

Tired of Waiting

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: little pieces of your life as you fall in love with Anthony

cw: hurt/comfort

very loosely inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift

Age 7

The first time you met Anthony, you had been playing hide and seek with your siblings. Your brothers had invited him to play and had declared that he be the seeker. Immediately, you had thought he was cute with his disheveled hair and outfit that was covered in dirt for reasons unknown to you.

He got along with your brothers quite nicely, but didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Almost as if he didn’t like you. And Anthony didn’t like you. He thought you were a know-it-all and didn’t like how you told him what to do.

You hid yourself in the tree above you and tried to hold back your giggles as you watched the boy and your brothers look for you, calling out your name as they did so. You let out a laugh that was a bit too loud and all four of them looked up, Anthony’s eyes going wide as he saw how high up you were. He thought it was very irresponsible of your brothers to let a girl such as yourself climb up there. But instead of helping, they all just laughed along with you.

Taking matters into his own hands, Anthony climbed up to help you despite your objection. You didn’t need his help. You got up there so you could certainly get down. And you certainly didn’t need help from a boy. Especially not one who was your not your brother.

“I do not require your help,” you told him, but he just ignored you, climbing the tree quicker than you ever could.

“No one said you didn’t require it, but I am offering.”

“Then I shall stay up here.” You crossed your arms over your chest, planting yourself down on the branch that you had been standing on. Thinking about letting him help you made you feel weak, like you couldn’t do it for yourself and you most certainly could.

You turned to face the setting sun as Anthony continued to climb to you, paying him no mind. You weren’t leaving that tree until he went away. He was not going to make you look like all of the other women. Because that was not what you were. You were just a girl trying to live out her freedom until it was time to discuss marriage.

Everyone stopped when there was a loud crack coming from below you. You sat up and sure enough, the branch was separating from the tree. Anthony finally reached the branch and him grabbing onto it made it completely break off, causing the both of you to fall to the ground in a loud thud.

He landed on top of you and made multiple apologies even though the fall hadn’t been that far, but you had hurt your knee, probably had even broken it. You screamed in response to the pain and your brothers quickly pulled him off of you and your oldest brother, Henry carried you inside to have your scraped knees taken care of. From that moment, you vowed that you would always hate Anthony Bridgerton.

Age 12

You got over your hatred for Anthony pretty quickly and the two of you had been attached at the hip ever since. You’d chase each other through the garden, threatening to kiss the other once you were caught, but that never actually happened. No matter how much you wanted it to. You knew it was wrong for a boy and a girl to kiss if they were not married, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what it would have been like to press a featherlight kiss to Anthony’s lips.

And Anthony felt just the same. He had realized that the feelings he had thought were hatred were actually of love. He had loved you and more than just a friend. He knew that he was young, but he wanted to marry you. So badly that it hurt. He vowed that as soon as the two of you were of age, he’d do it. If he had the guts.

Age 16

As you got older, you and Anthony talked much of traveling the world together. You’d go to Spain and Paris, and Italy and wherever else your hearts desired. You’d both sit in the study of your house and spin your globe for hours, closing your eyes and spinning the thing and deciding you’d had whatever it landed on to your ever-growing itinerary.

Not long after, Anthony told you that he would be traveling with his uncle through Europe. Coincidentally to the exact places you both had discussed going to. You had been a little upset, but ultimately felt elated for him to be able to do something so exciting. He promised that he would write and bring something back, but that didn’t seem like enough. You had spent every single day for the past nine years together and now you were going to be miles apart with only his letters and gifts to keep your company.

The next week, you saw Anthony off, giving him a hug that lasted a little too long for friends and stayed there until his carriage disappeared down the road. You felt tears fall from your eyes but wiped them away until you were alone.

You knew it was only going to be for a few weeks, but without Anthony, a part of you was missing. A piece of your heart had left with him and you were hoping, praying that he’d finally get the hint and come back and ask for your hand like you had been wanting for years. But he didn’t.

Age 20

Those few weeks had turned into months which eventually turned into years. Anthony had been gone for four years and you eventually threw away the letters he was sending you, knowing that everything he had said was a load of shit. He has promised to come back and marry you, but clearly that hadn’t been of importance since he had yet to do just that.

So, with that, you decided that it was finally your season to find a husband to which your mother reluctantly agreed. She had her heart set on you ending up with Anthony, but since he had failed to propose, she decided that it was probably for the best to just get on with it.

As soon as you had been declared ready to wed, suitors lined up at your door with gifts and many compliments which you took with a smile. All of them were gentleman, but none of them seemed right. The onto one you wanted was out of reach.

You found yourself at yet another ball to meet more suitors that you had forced yourself to go despite your want to stay home and read Anthony’s letters over and over again. You had been dancing with the man your mother had insisted was the right fit for you and no matter how nice he was, you had decided that he was a bore. All he seemed to want to talk about was his family and as nice as it was that he loved them so much, you could only hear about his six siblings for so long.

You looked around the room as he spoke and your eyes locked on a beautiful man by the refreshments table. He has the prettiest brown eyes and hair that was the perfect amount of messy. He was definitely your type and you had been determined to talk to him.

Once the song ended, you excused yourself from Edgar and made a beeline for the man that has caught your interest. His eyes locked on yours and for some reason, they seemed familiar, almost as if you had looked into them before. He gave you a smile and you swore your legs were going to give out at how pretty it was.

“Hello,” you greeted him with a curtsy. “I’m-”

“Lady l/n,” he finished, taking your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to it. How could he have possibly known your name? Unless- No, he was in Paris last you had heard.

“Anthony?” You asked and he just smiled. It really was him! In the flesh! How had he come back and not told you? Perhaps the announcement had been in the letters you had failed to open.

“I believe you should address me as Viscount Bridgerton,” he said, his lips right by your ear, causing you to shiver.

“That would mean that I respect you and at this moment, I don’t.” You pulled your hand from his and headed out of the ballroom, down to the courtyard.

Anthony took off after you, quickly gaining up on you. What had he done wrong? Once upon a time, you worshipped the ground that he walked on and now you were treating him like he was dog shit you had just stepped in.

He told you he was going to come back and marry you and now that he had, you didn’t want anything to do with him. He knew that he had been gone longer than intended, but he had hoped you still would have been happy to see him. Apparently, he was wrong.

Anthony followed you into the hedge maze that took up most of the courtyard and was having trouble keeping up since you had sped up into a run. What even was the purpose of a hedge maze?

He eventually caught you by the wrist and you tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. You were tired of running, but you were also tired of waiting. If you said the word, you’d be wed to Edgar within a month and Anthony would have been kicking himself because he hadn’t gotten there sooner. It was what he had deserved.

“Stop running,” he commanded through labored breaths and you just shook your head.

“No,” you replied. “I will not. I am so upset with you that I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Upset with me?” He still had no idea what he had done.

“Yes!” You looked so upset and exhausted that all Anthony wanted to do was hold you in his arms as a way to comfort you.

“Why?”

“Why? Be serious, Anthony! I have waited years for you and I shall not wait any longer. I am done with you.” That was like a stab to the heart. You should have just killed him. It would have hurt a lot less

“Done?” You couldn’t be done with him. You had spent too much time together for that to be true.

“I am to marry Lord Fletcher.” Fuck, he was too late.

“That man is a bore!” You had no interest in hearing his thoughts. He lost his privilege to tell you what he thought when he left.

“He is no such thing!” He really was, but you weren’t going to give Anthony the satisfaction of being right.

“And may I say old enough to be your father.” He was that too, but you weren’t really going to marry him so it didn’t matter.

“But he will be my husband. A role you could have taken on if you had bothered to show up.” With that, he he let go of your hand and watched you move further into the maze.

“But he doesn’t love you as much as I!” He yelled, loud enough for you to hear. You quickly turned around and marched towards him and grabbed him by his coat before pressing your lips to his. You felt him gasp into your mouth but he quickly melted into you, his lips moving with yours.

“You love me,” you said against his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know.” He pulled away and reached into his pocket for the ring he had bought for you in Paris. He opened the box you gasped at the beautiful ring sitting inside it.

“Anthony, it’s beautiful.”

“And it’s yours.” He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto your finger, tears welling up in both of your eyes. “It always was.”

“I’m sorry. I was horrible to you.”

“No apologies necessary,” he shook his head, pulling you into another deep kiss. “Now, shall we go make the announcement?” He asked, offering you his arm.

“We shall,” you nodded and looped your arm through his, the two of you making your way back into the ballroom to announce your much anticipated engagement.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I know I've posted about my crush on Tenma plenty and I continue to do so, but... the other guy... Idk... He's kinda... 👉🏽👈🏽

ANOTHER CRUSH?!

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

[dollfacefantasy]

NOT A TOY! ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you and rick play around with the piece holstered to his belt

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, gun play (humping it), praise/degradation

wc: 1.4k

a/n: um sorry gang i wanted this to be longer but my brain wasn't working when i wrote it and it lowkey still is not 😔 based on this ask tho which i loved. i hope you guys like it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated.

kinktober slot: day 22 - gun play

"You like this?" he asks, feigned disgust dripping from each syllable, "Dirty fuckin' girl."

"It feels good," you whimper in defense of yourself.

He chuckles at that, the sound coming out raspy and low. It's accompanied by the smirk on his face. The nearby light of the lantern makes his eyes look as though they're flickering with amusement at the position you're in.

The two of you were on watch for the night shift. While the sun set behind the tree line, you each climbed up into the tower that sat along the wall. Both of you started off focused on the task at hand. You kept your eyes forward, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble, walker or human.

But as had been the norm for your time in Alexandria so far, nothing happened. No staggering figures emerged from the woods, nor did any cars creep down the road. You sat in the two chairs perched up there and talked back and forth about different things. You vented about different people in the group, shared stories about your lives in the old world, just normal stuff.

As the hours stretched on, you grew tired and migrated into Rick's lap. He let you settle in against his chest, expecting you to rest there for the remaining time. But like it normally went for the two of you, being so close meant you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

It started with simple making out. Your lips moved with one anothers in slow, open-mouthed kisses. His hands swept over your figure, stopping every so often to grope at your thighs or hips. He spun you around on his lap after a while to get you situated in a position to ride him.

In doing so, he went to move his gun out of its holster. The cool wooden finish of the grip brushed over your thigh, and the sensation sent a visible shudder through your body. 

His brows had raised with curiosity. Testing the idea, he dragged the weapon up your leg, and you shivered again.

"Feel somethin' good, sweetheart?" he asked.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, timidity gleaming over the small spheres. You responded with a little nod, and that was how you ended up here. The gun lodged between your thighs, the smooth grip pressed right up against your damp panties. 

You rut on the weapon like a puppy in heat - back and forth, back and forth. You're not sure if it's the thrill of using something so inherently dangerous as an object of pleasure or just something about the even curve of it that has you even more whiny than usual.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, dragging the fabric of his shirt up between them. His free hand not keeping the gun secure holds your chin. You want to drop your head back so bad. Your eyes are already so droopy with lust. You want to just melt and let loose, but he keeps you locked in this moment with him.

"Look at you. So desperate. You'll rub up on anything if it gets you off, huh?" he whispers.

Your head bobbles in his grasp, nodding yes.

"Mhm. As long as it feels good you don't care," he tuts. He boosts one of his legs to knock you closer. You topple forward further into his chest and stay there, accepting the warm expanse as refuge from the stimulation down below.

"Not my fault," you whimper, "Just feels so good."

"I bet it does," he chuckles.

Carefully, he angles the firearm upwards a bit more, letting your clit bump on the end of the grip. A sharp whine shoots from your lips, so he knows it was the right move.

You don't worry about anything right now. In this moment, it's just you and him. There's nothing to think about but humping the object below you like your life depends on it. You don't even worry about your own speed or force or anything. If there's anyone in this world you'd trust to do this with, it's Rick.

Rick who's intensely familiar with guns from his years on the force before this. Rick who's piece stays attached to his hip at all times. Rick who looks at you like you're the most precious being on earth, but who also can't get enough of reminding you what a little slut you can be. He's the only one who gets you to this level of depravity.

"Harder, baby. I know you can do better than this," he teases near your ear. You feel his breath tickle your skin, the sensation sending chills all across your heated flesh.

You try to follow what he says and press yourself down with more force. The smooth handle slots between your folds. You whine as you feel the increase in pressure, so close against you the contact almost feels direct.

His hands around back knead your ass. He gives it a small smack, beckoning you to keep up the pace.

"Want you to make yourself cum all over it. Get it all messy for me," he breathes, "I know those cute little panties are already soaked."

Your eyes flit down as if you didn't know that. His gaze follows in suit, a small laugh coming out of him. The more you rut on top of him, the darker the wet patch on the front of the delicate garment becomes. The sticky fabric adds to the friction though, making your release approach faster.

"F-fuck," you whimper. Your body tightens up at the impending sensation. The edge is right there. You don't think you could stop now if you wanted to.

"That's right, sweetheart. Making me proud. You're actin' like the perfect whore for me. Keep it up," he mumbles, each word only spurring you on.

You keep bucking your hips. Your grasp on him tightens. Your chest puffs in smaller intervals as you feel yourself racing towards the finish line. When you finally crest the peak, your back arches. You let out a strangled cry. Your body continues to rock brokenly on top of the object.

He grabs your chin again and pulls your face from where it'd been smooshed against his chest. His fingers direct you upward, forcing you to look at him.

"Look in my eyes while you cum, darlin'. Look at who's making you feel this good," he says.

Your cheeks fill with heat at the intensity of his gaze. Despite your instinct to look away, you keep your pupils locked on his blue irises, taking in all of the desire swirling there. Everything hits you harder. You tremble even more as the thing between your legs continues bringing you pleasure.

He chuckles and  drops his hand from your face. Once you're beginning the downward slope, he rubs your back, soothing you through it.

"Good girl. Let it all out. I've got you," he murmurs.

He keeps a firm hold on you, ensuring you don't fall off his lap. You continue on shuddering and riding out the rest of the high, but soon enough your body begins to settle. It feels like you're melting down into his chest. Every part of you loosens. You let out a deep sigh. And your eyes flutter.

His hand slithers down between the two of you to carefully extract his gun from the junction of your legs. He slides it out, briefly admiring the small sheen coating it. You scoot closer to be further in his arms as you hear him set the weapon on the table beside you.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you calm down. It's dark out now. Everything's quiet except for the sound of your breathing. His fingers massage the nape of your neck while he looks out at the pitch black expanse outside the walls.

Even though his attention resides elsewhere for the moment, when you shift around, you feel his bulge nudging the plush underside of your thighs. Reaching down, your fingers toy with the button on his jeans.

That same smug expression from earlier returns to his face as his eyes find yours again.

"You want more already?" he teases.

"That was just the warm up. I want the real thing," you say with a tiny smile.

"The real thing, huh? Greedy girl," he tuts playfully. But he adjusts his position a little in a way that you know you're gonna get what you want. "Let's see if you can handle the real thing without waking everybody up."

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; going back to the coven is anything but comforting. meanwhile, the pack finally face the truth, consumed by shame and grief as they finally grasp the depth of their betrayal—and what it’s cost them.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The trip home stretched endlessly, the hum of magic-infused machinery barely masking the heavy silence that filled the car. You sat in the back seat next to your Mother, her gaze remained fixed out the window, unyielding and distant, while Cath Palug purred softly in her lap, seemingly impervious to the tension.

Up front, König drove in complete silence, his focus locked on the road. His stillness was matched by Sybil, who had climbed into the back with you, pressing herself against your side. Her warmth and steady breaths anchored you.

The landscape shifted as the car veered off the main road, winding deeper into the countryside. The town near the coven came into view, a picture of quiet prosperity nestled among the trees. Its flourishing streets and bustling community reflected your Mother’s fierce protection and the coven’s watchful eye. People paused as the sleek black car passed, bowing deeply or offering respectful nods. Despite your Mother’s cold and exacting nature, her loyalty and strength ensured the people's safety and growth.

The car rolled through the wrought iron gates of the estate, the sprawling grounds of the coven’s domain stretching out before you. The old English-style mansion rose ahead, a commanding presence surrounded by lush gardens and shadowed paths. Across the grounds, women in training moved purposefully, their whispered conversations halting when they caught sight of the car. They too bowed deeply, their expressions a mix of admiration and caution. Others, bolder, whispered amongst themselves, their gazes darting away when you glanced toward them through the window.

As the car slowed to a stop, your other mother emerged from the grand entrance, her wheelchair gliding forward with its graceful, hand-like appendages navigating the uneven stones effortlessly. Horangi walked steadily behind her, his presence as sharp and watchful as ever. At her side, her sleek, pitch-black Borzoi, Barghest, padded with a measured elegance.

Your Mom’s face lit up at the sight of you, though her eyes quickly darted to Sybil’s slight limp and the exhaustion etched into your features. Concern softened her expression, and her lips parted to speak, but her gaze shifted to your Mother first. She extended a hand, and your Mother leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

“I missed you,” your Mom murmured softly, her hand lingering on your Mother’s cheek.

Your Mother, though ever composed and aloof, allowed the faintest softening of her features. “As did I,” she replied, her voice low and steady.

Their connection, brief but undeniable, reminded you of the rare moments when their love shone through the icy expectations that so often consumed your Mother.

Turning her attention back to you, your Mom’s warm expression returned, though concern shadowed her gaze. “You look dreadful,” she said gently, her tone laced with worry. Her eyes flicking down to Sybil. “Not just tired. Injured. Both of you.”

Barghest tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing as she approached Sybil. There was a moment of stillness, a silent assessment passing between the two dogs. Then, the larger Borzoi lowered her head, greeting Sybil like a mother would her pup. Sybil, though hesitant at first, leaned into the touch, her tail giving a faint, tentative wag.

Your Mother remained silent, her cool poise unshaken, though you caught the faintest flicker of tension in her jaw—a rare tell. Without a word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements precise and deliberate as if to shield any hint of unease. Cath Palug, ever her shadow, padded gracefully beside her, the flick of her tail echoed the unspoken dismissal left behind.

Your Mom sighed, shaking her head gently. “Inside. Now,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

König stepped out of the car without a word, his quiet efficiency undisturbed as he moved to the trunk. “I’ll handle everything,” he said, his voice low and steady. It was both a reassurance and a dismissal, leaving no room for argument as he began gathering your things.

Too drained to muster much else, you nodded faintly and followed your Mom’s gesture toward the house. Her wheelchair, its enchanted appendages moving with fluid precision, moved alongside you, the faint whir of magic lacing the air. Sybil kept close, her steps tentative as she walked beside you.

The familiar halls of the mansion unfolded around you, the heavy drapes and intricate carvings exuding an air of both history and expectation. The scent of aged wood and faint herbs lingered, familiar and oppressive.

In the sunlit sitting room, your Mom gestured for you to sit. “Horangi,” she said, her voice firm, “fetch tea and something to eat. They’ve been through enough already.”

Horangi hesitated for the briefest moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he turned on his heel and disappeared toward the kitchen without a word.

As you sank into the plush chair she indicated, Sybil curled at your feet, her head resting on your ankle. Barghest lingered near the doorway, before settling herself a short distance away, her gaze never straying far.

Your Mom clicked her tongue softly, a mix of concern and affection coloring her voice. “Put your feet up, darling,” she instructed gently, and with a graceful flick of her wrist, an ottoman slid effortlessly into place in front of you, gliding as if carried on an invisible current. “You’ve had a long enough journey, and I’m not having you sit there like some tensed-up statue.”

You hesitated for a moment, but her expectant gaze left no room for argument. Sighing, you shifted slightly and rested your feet on the plush surface, instantly feeling a sense of relief from the aching tension in your legs, especially your ankle. Sybil lifted her head slightly, her gaze flicking to your Mom with quiet, watchful curiosity.

“Good,” your Mom said, her tone softening further as she leaned forward, her sharp eyes sweeping over you with maternal precision. Her hands moved deftly as she checked your ankle, her touch light yet methodical. When she saw the faint marks left behind by your injuries, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her expression quickly morphed into one of quiet pride.

“These have already begun to heal,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Quick thinking, and your technique was flawless. If nothing else, I can see you took my lessons to heart.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her obvious gloating. “I didn’t have much choice,” you replied lightly. “It was that or worse.”

“That,” she said with a knowing smile, “is exactly what I taught you. You’ve made me proud, my darling. Even your binding work on these wounds is excellent, though it’s high time they were changed.”

With practiced ease, she removed the bandages, inspecting each mark carefully before conjuring a soft glow around her hands. The warmth of her magic soothed the lingering aches as she worked. Fresh bandages appeared at her side, summoned with a flick of her fingers, and she replaced the old ones with an efficiency that spoke to years of experience.

Satisfied with her work, she turned her attention to Sybil, who watched the proceedings with quiet patience. “Now, let’s see about you,” she murmured, crouching slightly as she reached out toward her.

Sybil tilted her head, her large, intelligent eyes locking onto your Mom’s. After a moment’s hesitation, she allowed the inspection. “Remarkable resilience,” she remarked, her voice tinged with admiration. “She’s a true reflection of her master’s skill. But even she needs rest.”

Barghest lifted her head slightly at the remark, her ears flicking forward as if to assess Sybil once more before settling back down again.

With Sybil’s examination complete, your Mom nodded in satisfaction. “There we are. Now, no arguments—you’ll have tea and something to eat before I let you do anything else.”

As if on cue, Horangi returned, carrying a tray laden with steaming tea, biscuits, and small plates of fruit. His expression was as cool as he set it down on the low table before you. “Tea,” he announced curtly.

“Thank you, Horangi,” your Mom said warmly, her tone cutting through his frostiness like sunlight through mist. “We’ll manage from here.”

You poured yourself a cup, the warm aroma calming your frayed nerves as you leaned back into the chair. Sybil sniffed at the tray, her nose twitching curiously as you passed her a small piece of biscuit. When Horangi offered her another, she snorted, turning her head with a pointedly disdainful flick of her tail.

Your Mom chuckled softly, shaking her head. “She’s as particular as her mistress.”

With the tea and bandages sorted, your Mom clapped her hands, signaling the end of your brief respite. Her gaze softened as it rested on you, though the warmth didn’t mask the firmness in her tone. “That’s enough for now, darling. Go to your room. It’s been prepared and left untouched since the day you left.”

The words landed with an unmistakable weight, unspoken tension crackling faintly in the air between you. For a moment, you considered saying something, but the words died on your tongue. Instead, you gave a curt nod, rising to your feet as Sybil stretched and followed close at your side. Barghest didn't move from her place, but you could feel her watching the two of you go.

The door opened before you could reach it, and there stood König, his towering presence filling the doorway. His gaze immediately dropped to you, scanning your face for any sign of distress . Still, he said nothing, but his intent was clear as he stepped aside, waiting to escort you.

“König,” you started, exhaling sharply, “I don’t need—”

“Upstairs,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Your room.”

You frowned but knew better than to argue further. He didn’t push; he simply waited, his quiet resolve enough to make you give in with a sigh. His hand hovered near your lower back, not touching but close enough to guide you as you left the sitting room.

The climb up the grand staircase was heavier than it should have been. As you ascended, the apprentices of the coven—a mix of young women in training and those tending to the estate—moved about their tasks. Some bowed their heads respectfully, their gazes averted as they murmured greetings. Others, less acquainted with you, whispered amongst themselves, their curiosity poorly hidden.

“Is that her?” one murmured, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to reach your ears. “The young lady who ran away?”

“She is,” another replied, her tone hushed with a mix of awe and skepticism. “The heir.”

The words pricked at your composure, but you forced your expression to remain neutral, your stride steady. König, however, shot them a sharp glance over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes silencing the whispers instantly. His imposing presence alone was enough to scatter their murmurs, leaving only the faint shuffle of their footsteps.

“You didn't have to—” you started again, but König interrupted with a quiet, unyielding tone. “I do.”

When you reached your room, he stepped ahead of you, opening the door with a slow push. The air inside was still and heavy, thick with the weight of time passed. Everything was exactly as you’d left it—the furniture untouched, the books neatly stacked, and the faint scent of your perfume lingering as though it had waited for you to return.

Sybil padded inside first, hopping onto the bed and curling up in its center with an air of practiced ease, as if reclaiming her territory. You lingered in the doorway, your gaze sweeping the room. What should have been comforting instead felt stifling, the untouched state of the room more of a reminder than a reprieve.

König stepped aside to let you enter fully, his eyes following your every movement. “It’s the same,” he said softly, almost as though the words were for himself.

“It’s suffocating,” you admitted quietly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the desk. The room, with all its familiarity, felt like a cage—one you’d thought you’d escaped.

König frowned slightly but said nothing, his expression under his mask unreadable as always. After a moment, he reached down and gently picked up your bag from where he’d set it near the doorway, placing it on the bed beside Sybil.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said finally, his tone softer than before. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you as if searching for something, but then he gave a small nod. “I’ll be close if you need anything.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, his heavy steps retreating down the hall. You sighed, closing the door behind him, and leaned back against it. The stillness of the room pressed down on you, and though Sybil’s steady presence was a comfort, the weight of the past seemed to close in.

Crossing to the window, you pushed it open, letting the cool evening air sweep into the room. It helped—if only a little.

As you moved around the room, a soft knock came at the door. Sybil, ever vigilant, lifted her head from her paws, her ears perking. Before you could say anything, the door creaked open, revealing a young girl you didn’t recognize. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, her wide eyes hesitant as she stepped inside, balancing a neatly folded pile of clothes in her arms.

“These are for you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a nervous edge. “Lady Le Fay picked them out herself.”

Your gaze flicked to the clothes—exquisitely made, as always. Their elegance spoke of your Mother’s impeccable standards, her expectations woven into every stitch. You nodded, a simple acknowledgment, and reached for the garments, but the girl hesitated, her hands tightening on the fabric for just a moment before releasing it.

“I’ll help you,” she offered quickly, setting the pile down on the bed. She busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles, her nervous energy filling the room. As she worked, she glanced up at you, her expression uncertain. “I—I know it’s not my place, but… I wanted to say something.”

You arched a brow, motioning for her to continue as you picked up the blouse, the material cool against your fingertips.

“I think… what you did—leaving, I mean—was brave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hung in the air, heavy with risk. “I know most of the others don’t see it that way, but I do.”

Her admission caught you off guard. You paused, meeting her gaze, and she flushed under your scrutiny, her hands wringing nervously. “I just think that… if more of us thought like you, maybe this place wouldn’t feel so—” She hesitated, her words catching on the edge of something unspoken. “So oppressive.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips, though you tried to suppress it. “Oppressive,” you repeated softly, the word tasting both foreign and familiar on your tongue.

The girl straightened, her expression shifting as if she regretted her honesty. “Not that I’m ungrateful,” she added quickly. “Our lives are good. Better than most. It’s just…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if the rest of the sentence was too dangerous to utter.

You turned toward her fully, folding the blouse carefully in your hands. “You’re not wrong,” you said after a beat. “But you’re also not ready to say it out loud. Not here.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. Instead, she nodded, a faint look of understanding passing over her features. “Thank you,” she whispered, dipping her head respectfully. “I’ll leave you to finish.”

With that, she slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her. You stared at the closed door for a moment, the tension in your chest knotting tighter. Sybil padded closer, her head nudging your leg.

“Brave,” you murmured to yourself as you began dressing, the word echoing in your mind. It wasn’t how you’d ever seen it. Foolish, reckless, selfish—all those had been easier to accept. But brave? It felt foreign, like a coat you weren’t sure how to wear.

As you fastened the final button, Sybil huffed softly. You knelt to scratch behind her ears, her steady gaze meeting yours as if she, too, approved of the sentiment. “Maybe,” you said quietly, “just maybe.”

. . .

The silence after Alejandro and Rudy’s revelations was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on the room. Laswell had gone upstairs to deal with Leah, leaving the pack to sit with the unbearable truth laid out before them.

At the centre of the table sat the nail, sealed in a small glass flask. It was a stark reminder of everything they had ignored, every warning they had missed. Alejandro and Rudy had placed it there when they began their explanation, a silent indictment of the pack’s failure to see what had been festering under their noses.

Price sat at the head of the table, his expression was unreadable, but the lines around his mouth and the set of his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil. He’d barely spoken during their explanation, his hand resting heavily on the table, fingers occasionally twitching as if itching to grip something—anything.

Gaz sat at the table, his face buried in his hands, silent tears slipping through his fingers. His knee, usually bouncing with nervous energy, was still for once, the tension in his body radiating a quiet devastation. The guilt tore through him like claws—how had they let it get this far? How had they hurt you so deeply, so irreparably?

Johnny, unable to bear it, had bolted from the room. His overgrown hair whipped behind him as he fled, his footsteps heavy and uneven. The door slammed somewhere in the distance, and they all knew he was headed back to the woods, a place he’d always gone to hide when the world became too much.

Price’s gaze moved to Ghost, who hadn’t uttered a word since the conversation began. “Simon,” he said, his voice firm but quieter.

Ghost didn’t move. His hands were still planted on the table, his head bowed, his broad shoulders tense. Price’s tone softened, though the weight of his words remained. “You’ve got to say something. Anything.”

Still, he said nothing, his mind an unrelenting whirlwind of fragmented memories, half-formed regrets, and the crushing realisation of what he’d done. He’d been the one who brought Leah into their lives. But worst of all, he’d hurt you. Attacked you and Sybil.

The reality had settled over him like a lead cloak, immobilising him.

Alejandro, standing by the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “What’s the point of talking? He knows what he did.” His sharp gaze cut to Price. “But don’t think for a second that any of you are off the hook. You all failed her.”

“Enough,” Price said sharply, his tone commanding. “We know. Don’t you think we bloody know?”

Alejandro smirked coldly, his gaze unwavering. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”

Rudy, standing nearby, placed a calming hand on Alejandro’s arm. “Ale, we’ve said what we came to say. Let them deal with it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, but his eyes burned with disdain as he looked at them.

Gaz swallowed hard, “But who… who did this? Who’s responsible?”

Alejandro shrugged, brow furrowed. “We don’t know exactly, yet at least. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing.”

Price exhaled heavily, his hand running over his face as if trying to push back the weight of the truth. “You’re saying this was all to isolate her?”

Rudy nodded solemnly. “That’s how these curses work. They isolate, divide, and weaken. She was the target from the start. You? You were just tools. Puppets.”

Alejandro crossed his arms, his gaze hard. “So don’t sit here wallowing in your own self-pity. Whatever guilt you’re feeling, it’s deserved. But the real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Gaz let out a choked sound. “How… how do we fix this? How do we even begin to fix this?”

Price stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he walked to the window. His broad shoulders were rigid, as he stared out at the darkening horizon. “For now,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute, “we leave her alone. Like I said, we need to fix ourselves first, we have no right to even think about going after her.”

Alejandro and Rudy exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Rudy sighed, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “We’ll keep looking,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the broken pack. “Whoever’s responsible for this won’t get away with it. When we know, we’ll keep you posted.”

Alejandro gave a firm nod, his expression unyielding. “But don’t expect miracles from us,” he added sharply.

They turned toward the door, the weight of their words settling like ash in the room. Rudy paused briefly, glancing back at the pack with a flicker of hesitation. But before they could leave, Ghost finally spoke.

His voice was low, gravelly, like the sound of rocks grinding together. “Is she… okay?”

Alejandro stopped, his hand resting on the doorframe. Rudy looked at him, eyebrows furrowing, but Alejandro didn’t move.

“You should know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?” he said flatly. “You know her best.”

Ghost stayed silent, his head bowing ever so slightly. Deep down, he already knew. The part of him that loved you with every fiber of his being—despite feeling unworthy of it—knew that you were okay, wherever you were. But that knowledge didn’t ease the hollow ache inside him.

With that, the front door closed with a heavy thud, leaving the pack alone once again.

Price stood at the window, unmoving, the faint glow of his nth cigar's ember casting a dim light in the darkening room. His shoulders were tense, the weight of his failures settling heavily on him, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke.

“Get it together,” he said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. “We’ve all failed her. But if she’s still out there, we owe it to her to fix this.”

Ghost remained at the table, his eyes fixed on the cursed nail. The silence that followed was more damning than anything that had been said.

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[atoltia]

A Feline Distraction

You head over to one of Sylus' villas in the suburbs only to find him... being yelled at by a cat?

In which Sylus got chosen by the cat distribution system.

Sylus x !femMC

Fluff, domestic fluff, a cat

-0-

You really didn't know why you came by so early.

When Sylus sent you the invitation to come to one of his villas - the same one where you sought out shelter from the rain that one time you had a mission in the suburbs - he didn't set any time, just the open message that he will be there and he does not have any work that day.

Which was his way of telling you that yes, he was aware that it is your day off and he wanted to spend the day with you. The invitation sounded innocent enough, if the man that you were thinking about wasn't Sylus. You knew very well that if you didn't go, he'd have gone to your apartment instead whether you liked it or not, and considering that Xavier just came back from one of his long missions - it might just be best if you indulged the man.

And besides, it wasn't like it was going to be unpleasant. It's a nice day out and you remember that house having a pool and a lovely garden. Maybe you could convince him to take a dip with you, clothes being optional.

And Sylus - well, it's been a few weeks since the two of you spent some time together and you do admit that you've missed the man. Besides his seemingly gruff persona, he's pleasant company to be around with (and you definitely didn't miss the way he would hold you, just keep you in his arms whenever the two of you were together. Definitely not).

So there you were, pushing through the gates of the villa while the early morning sun shone bright overhead, admiring the way the blossoms of the nearby flower bushes were blooming as the sunlight dappled through the trees.

You looked up, your lips curling into a smile when you saw him by the rose bushes, standing tall and proud with his arms folded over his chest, his face contorted into a frown -

Hm, what?

You stopped, blinked as you watched Sylus stand there beneath the shade of the nearby trees, long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as a kitten was trying - and failing - to climb his pants leg while an open can of tuna lay undisturbed by his feet on the cobblestone walkway.

It was a pretty little thing. White, wispy fur with a cute dark spot at the top of its head covered a tiny little baby about the size of your hand. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, maybe a month, by your estimate.

It was stubborn though, judging from the way it kept climbing Sylus' pant no matter how much it fell, and the loud shrills of its mews was very present in that lovely morning as it desperately demanded the man's attention.

"Sy." You smiled when he looked up, those ruby, ruby eyes that were swirling with frustration mere moments ago shifted, warmth blooming into them when his gaze landed on you. He didn't move to meet you as he decided to stand his ground as his leg kept getting barraged by one tiny cat, although his arm outstretched to grasp you the moment you were within his reach.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair, twirling a lock of it between his long fingers as he pressed you to his body, careful to not agitate the still climbing kitten.

"Who's this?" you asked as you looked down at the little rascal, now chirping at the both of you. It's gotten up to his waist now, claws fully dug into the leather of his belt.

Sylus sighed, and you could see his attempt to dig for patience. "She's been trying to climb me for the past half hour now," he grumbled, his fingers tapping into the length of your back. "Like a certain kitten that's insistent on her bedtime schedule."

You laughed, brightening his day almost immediately, as you leant slightly to cup the kitten within your hand. It didn't make a fuss, but it now directed it's insistent mewing at you.

"Aren't you a pretty baby?" It wasn't lost on you the way Sylus' eyes softened as you cooed, his head tilting to the side as he shifted his bodyweight to his other foot. You bent down to the ground to where the tuna was, nudging the baby so it could eat.

Before it immediately jumped back to climb Sylus' leg.

He turned towards you.

"Do you see the problem now?"

You inhaled from your nose sharply, his eyes narrowing when he saw you struggling to keep your composure. "Wow," you exhaled as you hid your smile with the back of your hand. "Such a problem, indeed."

He clicked his tongue before drilling a finger into your side, which resulted in you being unable to hide your glee of the situation anymore as you doubled over in delight.

So hilarious was your partner's plight that you just had to lean up, used his wide shoulders as support as you stood on the tips of your toes, to give him a noisy kiss on his jaw.

The kitten mewed between you.

"Yes, yes," you chided, picking the baby back up and holding her up to his eye level. "She wants you."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"The cops certainly do."

He snorted, once again folding his arms over his massive chest as stared at the cat in your hands. It took him a few moments, but you've spent enough time with him to know that there were hundreds of thoughts circulating in that man's head as he tried to figure out the best course of action.

Yet, he sighed in defeat.

"Come here." The kitten was dwarfed within his hands, her big eyes impossibly bright as he turned her over to be cradled in his arms. The incessant mewing stopped and was already replaced by purring that could rival his motorcycle engine.

You were ecstatic.

Now within the confines of the house, the kitten went absolutely feral over the tuna that it ignored for over half an hour, making a mess of its tiny face and his marble countertops.

"What are you naming her?" you asked, your fingers gently petting the top of the cat's head.

It wasn't often that you saw Sylus to look so affronted, but to see him like that over a cat was a hilarious experience.

"I'm not keeping it."

"Why not?"

He looked at you, one wonderfully sculpted brow arched at your direction. "Do you really expect me to keep a cat?"

You raised a brow in turn. "You have Mephisto."

"Sweetie," he said, digging for patience from his already lowered supply. "He's a mechanical bird."

"His battery died once in the middle of watching me and you freaked out and came to get him yourself."

"He's my eyes on you," he insisted. "I needed him fixed immediately."

Your brow stayed lifted. "I still have video of you cradling him like a baby," you said evenly. "Or did you forget that ever happened?"

He lifted a shoulder, shrugged. "I'm merely protective of what's mine."

"Great," you said as you clasped his hand, pumped it once. "You'd do great with Sofia."

"Excuse me."

"Nice dealing with you, love." Mirth flashed in your eyes as your lips quirked with laughter.

He tugged your hand, pulled you towards his chest. Frustration mixed with amusement danced in his eyes as he leaned down and nipped your lower lip. "If that's how you proceed with negotiations, I'm going to have to sit you down for lessons."

"If it works, it works." You kissed his throat, hummed, rocked him as you stood. "I'm gonna go for a swim. Make sure you get the tuna off her face." And with a slight push, you were off him, making your merry way to the pool.

"What am I going to do with the both of you?"

You laughed, and the last thing you saw was him standing, both hands on his hips as he watched the cat.

-0-

It didn't take long for the photos to come.

Sylus wasn't averse to taking photos, certainly when it came to you considering the last time you checked his phone there were hundreds of pictures of just you.

He sent you several pictures of little Sofia with the excuse of giving you "updates" but you know full well he was as smitten with the cat as you were.

It's hilarious, really. He was a terrifying man. The mere mention of his name could make even the hardened of space criminals second thoughts. You've seen this man in combat, and even utilized his skills to aid you with your work. To the common folk, Sylus was the boogeyman that wasn't meant to be messed with lest you wanted to die.

Cats adored him.

Or at least curious about him, even with the smarmy look he always has on his damned beautiful face. Since the very first time you've met him, he'd be sending you a photo or two of random cat interactions, most of which he never invited to happen.

You remembered that one time he sent you a photo of one of his sitting rooms and asked you to find a black kitten that managed to get into his manor without anyone knowing. You had to come over and help him scour for hours because, as you found out, finding a black kitten in a room with dark furniture was nearly impossible.

And there was that other time, in the same villa where you found him being scaled by little Sofia, you two had quite a close encounter with another kitten that was stuck in his basement.

Many dates, many vacations, and you could always recall him being stopped by at least one cat and the occasional bird along the way. It was adorable, and the fact that he didn't quite agree with your assessment made it even more so. So you weren't that surprised to find him being hounded by a one month old kitten.

It became part of your morning routine. Beginning the day with cat photos was certainly a strong starting point, elevating your mood considerably. Practiced and posed, elegant photos of a quickly growing kitten graced your eyes, preparing you for a day filled with Wanderers, no doubt.

But Sylus' texts weren't the only ones you look forward to.

The moment Sylus stepped foot inside the manor in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran immediately added you to a group chat where they sent you all the other... media that your partner vehemently refused to send you.

The first stream of texts were several photos and videos of Sylus using his evol to help him bathe the kitten, with the front of his shirt and his hair already soaked.

And another one, a few days later which you assumed was taken from outside his bedroom window, of Sylus with his eyes closed, fingers digging deep into his biceps as Sofia and Mephisto were seemingly having an intense argument (the last photo in that set was Sylus directly looking at the window while streaks of red and black were lashing alarmingly close to the camera).

Many more photos of Sylus asleep either on his office or living room couch, fast asleep in the way you know he liked, with a cat sprawled directly on his stomach happily dozing the day away.

Kieran sent a photo of Sofia wearing a frilled collar decked out with sparkling rubies. The caption read: this cost more than six months of my salary (¬_¬")

You stifled a laugh, sending a quick reply before Captain Jenna caught you using your phone in the middle of your work hours.

You mean your allowance?

We don't get an allowance!, came the indignant reply seconds later. You get an allowance.

You grinned before sending him a crow emoji.

Your favorite one, however, was of Sylus frowning over what Luke said to be a legal document, the insult of having to read such a mediocre piece of legality plastered openly on his face all the while having a fluffy cat laying belly down on top of his snowy hair. It quickly became your phone wallpaper.

Mm. It has been a week since you last visited, and Jenna has been not so subtly pestering you to take some leave (it wasn't your fault you were a workaholic, but Jenna didn't want to hear it).

So that was that.

-0-

The sun was setting when you reached the manor, a large bag of groceries in one hand and a parcel on the other. The twins made quick work with the groceries the moment you stepped in, most likely because they knew you bought that new candy bar from Linkon City that they've been raving about for weeks.

You tried to not be too loud, as you knew Sylus would be asleep during this time of day. Soft footsteps padded on the polished hardwood floor

You remembered the first time you were given free reign to explore the manor, the amount of times you got lost amongst its many rooms, its many corridors. It used to feel so cold to you, so vast and cavernous even with the plush furniture and expensive art. No matter how many hours you've spent in front of one of the fireplaces in the many sitting rooms, no matter how many plushies you added to the bedroom he designated for you, no matter how many times you tried to make it feel like home.

It wasn't until that one night, more than a year ago now, that you felt the frost slowly dissipating. It wasn't anything special, just the two of you in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to make for dinner as the chef called in sick.

You didn't figure him being the type to know how to cook, seeing as he commanded his own business empire, but he was more than adequate. Still, you weren't about to let him do all the work. You were eating, too.

It was a mess, mostly because you two kept bickering about the recipe - with you being too stubborn to yield and him thoroughly enjoying the look of competitive frustration on your face. It wasn't fair that his reach was longer than yours, and even with your training, you couldn't take the recipe book that he held up in the air.

Cursing your hunter's training for a lack of a decent vertical jump, you landed a little bit wrong, a little to farther back than you anticipated. You remembered the surprised look on both of your faces and the sudden swishes of the black and red of his evol. A lot of cursing, a lot of pulling, and suddenly both you and him were on the floor covered in flour.

You barely registered the snickers of two voices by the doorway, didn't register the clicks and shutters of multiple photos being taken, and definitely didn't register immediately that you were on him, straddling him as the bag of flour rested on the top of your head (and yes, you still do remember the way his large hands rested protectively on your hips, which explained why you were on his lap rather than having a broken tailbone with an impact with the floor).

You two dusted yourself quickly, still bickering but with less heat, you decided to just order pizza all the while the two of you trailed flour on the floor.

It's a nice memory, one that you've come back to whenever you arrive here. And you were sure Sylus thought of it often too, considering the fact that he gives you a teasing look whenever you were in proximity of a bag of flour.

You basked in that warmth as you threaded the corridors, taking your time to get to the west wing to get to his bedroom. Opening the door as quietly as you can, you peeked it, smiled when you were met with a small mew.

Sofia laid at the foot of the bed, her tiny head raised in greeting. You shuffled in, careful to not make any noise. The parcel you carried was placed on the sofa as you secured the curtains, knowing full well that Sylus would be annoyed to wake up to open curtains.

You turned, smiled as you watched your partner just doze on the massive bed, hair mussed and squished to one side. Gone was the look of tension that he often had, the stress he carried momentarily held at bay. Taking off your coat, you moved to the bed, careful to not nudge too hard.

With one hand you patted the tiny cat's head just before you crawled beneath the covers, sighing when a strong arm reached out to wrap around your waist.

You let yourself get pulled into his warmth, get pulled into the safe and comfortable. With the utmost tenderness, you placed soft kisses on his bare chest, on his neck before nuzzling in.

It was still pretty early, you thought as the sleep was slowly overtaking you. A few hours wouldn't hurt. So long as it was with him.

Sylus woke an hour later, ruby eyes still bleary, and yet he was pleased to find himself being sandwiched by the two kittens in his life. He smiled that rare smile that was only reserved for you and sighed.

Maybe keeping the cat was a boon after all.

---

Listen. Sylus' Tender Curve has me in shackles.

Check out my masterlist for more Sylus fluff!

[boypied]

Rafe Cameron

Rafe is the epitome of a rich boy with severe anger issues, yet when you start dating, that part of him almost fully slips away. He is utterly obsessed with you, and it's obvious to everyone but him 'cause he thinks he's hiding it. Some guy called him a faggot because of how protective he was over you and that didn't end well for that guy, Rafe saw red and the guy was like a deer in headlights. It was quite entertaining seeing Rafe beat a homophobe up.

Rafe likes to spend at least half the day between your asscheeks, eating your hole up till it's all sloppy. He loves watching you wiggle and squirm just from his tongue, the way your body pushes your ass closer to his face to get more action from that tongue of his. He learnt this new trick that if he flicks his tongue at a certain point in your ass you just immediately cum, hands free, which he loves doing cause it makes you scream.

Rafe absolutely loves it when you send him pictures unannounced. You do it so frequently that he makes sure to never open anything you send him just in case someone is near, he loves it when you wear something sexy for him; a jockstrap picture, a kinky-dress up picture or just a plain simple ass picture. He never complains cause he knows a lot of guys aren't as lucky as he is, he makes sure to save them all and put them in his own personal spank bank.

One of the things he absolutely adores about you is that when he comes over you just immediately pounce on him, he knows its coming and he just loves when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer when he's on top of you. His utmost favourite sex position is 'the shell' Rafe enjoys how close it makes him feel to you. It also helps him reach all the right spots as he pounds away at your hole.

Rafe has snapped at you once, you never saw him look at you with such rage before. You were both at a party and you were getting drunk and EXTREMELY horny, you were practically climbing him like a tree, you were all over him in front of everyone. Rafe grab you by the wrist tightly and dragged you all the way home until he got you into his bedroom and screamed at you for being so clingy. He stopped mid-scream though to realise he was treating you how he treats the pogues.

He then immediately smothered your body in kisses, trailing them across your exposed tummy all the way up to your jawline that cause you to let out sweet drunken moans. He knew he couldn't fuck you though considering how drunk you were but once you sobered up the next day he treated you like a real slut, which is what you wanted the night before.

[the-nameless-poet]

My Fuzzy little Problem

summery : Somehow your boyfriend roped you into becoming an animagi alongside the marauders. And now you can't get enough of your Animagus form. You find it extremely comforting So you often like to hangout in your Animagus form.

James Potter x Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff.

You love roaming around in your animagus form, honestly a bit too much. And usually James is incharge while you turn into the furry little cuteness. And it's become so normal that the students at Hogwarts has started to believe that James has a little furry cat as his pet.

You're always sitting on his shoulder or sometimes even on the top of his head, apparently you find his unruly hair fluffy and comfortable. A lot of time you make him wear his hoodie backwards and just hang around in the hood and rub your little nose against his chin.

James also finds it extremely comforting when all you want to do is snuggle with him. He loves to cuddle up to you after his quidditch matches in your normal human body but sometimes when he wakes up he finds that you had shifted into your animagus form and had curled up on his chest emitting loud purrs in your sleep.

He would simply smile down at your cute kitten face and just hold you close to his chest, his extremely soft hoodie cuddling you closer as you wake up with a big yawn because of the little shift in his body.

Even when James is roaming around the black forest in his animagus form, you love to sit on the back of the elegant stag and explore the forest with your curious eyes, meowing when you see something interesting. And after a while Prongs would sit you both down under a large tree on top of a cliff that you both found one day, while strutting around the forest lands, as you played with his giant magnificent antlers. Climbing up on them or finding a perfect curve to hang between or just tap them with your fuzzy little paw. Prongs would bring his head down to lay on the ground and you'd gently walk up to him and boop or lick his snoot in affection as he looked unimaginably adorable with that innocent deer-like face and big brown doe eyes.

Today, was just another day for you. Though for James, it wasn't. It was Friday, meaning his quidditch practice. And as the year was nearing its end, the quidditch cup stood in the schedules of all students. Your finals had been completed, it was the last week before the summer holidays. James was working his arse off as the captain of the gryffindor quidditch team. He wanted to make sure that this year he will be the one bearing the quidditch cup in his hands. He wanted needed to feel that pride as he held the quidditch cup in the air, while looking at the beaming smile on your face as you sported a prideful glint in your eyes and gazed up at him.

But today maybe he had pushed his limits. He was exhausted and could barely move. All he wanted was to go back to his dorm and cuddle up to you.

While James was contemplating his life choices in his quidditch locker room. You were in need of a warm cozy Friday evening. After all you had worked very hard for last whole month preparing for your finals.

You entered James' dorm, knowing you won't find him there. So, you changed into your animagus form and entered his dorm.

At first you thought there was no one in the dorm present. But then you looked over at Rem's bed and saw him snuggled up against fuzzy blanket in his big sweater, his head tucked soundlessly in the fluffy pillow. You were best friends with marauders before you and James became a thing. So, it was normal for you to cuddle up to one of them. You decided that Remus' bed looked way much more cozy than James' as for now. So you made your way towards it.

You jumped up and landed right next to the sleeping Wolf's hand. You wiggled your way between his arms and he woke up slightly by the feeling of something shifting against him.

"Oh hi there." He mumbled sleepily as he shifted you in a more comfortable position and scratched lightly behind your ears and soon you were lulled to sleep.

An hour or so later you were woken up by a loud slam of door. Your body jerked in fear as you had been woken up very rudely by your boyfriend.

"Sorry, didn't know you were sleeping. But my hands are full..." James offered a sheepish smile as he set his broom and quidditch kit down.

You immediately hopped off Remus' bed and jumped on James as he sat down on his own bed for a while. He smiled down at you tiredly.

"Hey there, my fuzzy little problem." You meowed disapprovingly at that name. James chuckled, seeing the little scowl on your face.

"Alright. I won't call you that." He put his hands up in surrender as you showed off your claws.

James patted your head for a while and chatted with Remus about his new book. After a while he sat you down on his bed and giggled as you let out another disapproving meow.

"Sorry, bub. But I really have to take a shower and then we can cuddle, Kay?" As James went inside as you heard clomping of paws running towards you. Looked at the door and saw an overly excited black dog run up to you.

He looked up at you and you booped his snoot with your paw. He tried his fake attempts to clamp at your little paw and in return you smacked him on his head. It was yours and Sirius' way to say hello. James and Remus often found it weird but thought it was adorable none the less.

Padfoot soon went away and settled himself on Remus' bed as Remus scratched his belly and gave him patts.

By the time James returned you were curled up on his bed and Remus was cuddling with Padfoot and both had already fallen asleep.

James gently picked you up in his arms like a baby and you rested your head on his shoulder as he pulled out some blankets and pillows. After he was done, he laid you both down on the bed and you nuzzled your head in his biceps.

"Darling, can you turn back. I really need you to hold me. I'm tired." He mumbled. His lips pouted and his eyes were barely staying open. You turned back into your human form without missing a beat.

You quickly took James in your arms and laid his head on your chest as you gently ran your fingers through his curly hair, peppering kisses on his forehead.

As you gently rubbed your hand from the nape of his neck down to his shoulders you felt his breathing slow down and you looked down at him to see he was fast asleep with his head buried in your breasts wearing the most adorable look on his face as he exhaled slowly out of the curve of his pink lips.

And just looking at his sleeping form, you knew you were in complete love with this man. He was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed.

"I love you." You couldn't help but whisper to him. And what you didn't expect was the lazy smile gracing his lips as he nuzzled further unconsciously in your chest.

[chericos]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 ᝰ ⋆⁺₊❅.

CHRISTMAS ACTIVITIES WITH THE JJK MEN!

you can definitely see my favorites...

Satoru Gojo:

Satoru would try and take you moose-back riding: keyword try

he grew up being exceptional at everything, so he thought this would be no different

boy, was he wrong

you walked up to your moose calmly, hands held out for the massive creature to sniff—to gain its trust. It seemed to relax in your presence. with a few reassuring words and a couple of pats, it allowed you the honor of being able to climb onto its back with ease. meanwhile, the scene next to you was anything but graceful. gojo was struggling. a lot. "why is he looking at me like that?" "i think it wants to kill me," "why doesn't he like me..." he all but whined "maybe he can sense your charming personality," you teased. gojo spent the majority of his time whining about the audacity of the moose (that he picked out mind you). and when he was finally able to mount it, for a few gratifying seconds, the moose bucked wildly, sending him flying backward. you guide your own moose towards where he lies sprawled out in the snow, trying to contain your laughter. "totally planned for that to happen." "sure ya did honey," let's just say gojo never looked at a moose the same way again.

Suguru Geto:

Suguru was skeptical when you brought up the idea of Christmas baking.

you wanted to do something to keep the twins, mimiko, and nanako, entertained

"are you sure this isn't going to end in a mess?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in the kitchen doorway. "it's supposed to be messy, besides, they'll love it" mimiko and nanako were already perched up on the counter, smiling excitedly as they tried to get geto to join them, tugging on is sleeve and looking up at him with big puppy eyes. its no surprise that he gave in. mimiko was meticulous, carefully pressing cookie cutters into the dough with laser focus, while nanako was more chaotic, enthusiastically cutting out shapes in rapid succession—often forgetting to clean off the edges. geto couldn’t help but chuckle as he leaned over to help Nanako fix her crooked star cookie. “like this,” he said softly, guiding her hands. meanwhile, you were rolling out more dough when mimiko quietly came up to you. “can we make a heart one?” she asked shyly. You nodded, handing her the cutter. “of course, sweetie. maybe we can decorate it for suguru-nii later?" geto definitely overheard that. when it came time to decorate, the real chaos began. nanako somehow managed to get frosting everywhere—on her hands, her face, and even a streak across her cheek. “nanako, the frosting is for the cookies,” geto said with a sigh, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. mimiko, ever the perfectionist, took her time placing each sprinkle with care. “suguru-nii, look! I made a snowman!” she said, holding up her creation proudly. he smiled, brushing a hand over her hair. “It’s perfect, mimiko.” by the time you were done, the kitchen was a disaster. flour dusted the counters and the floor, and there was frosting on practically everything, including a streak in geto’s hair that he hadn’t noticed yet. (no one tell him) the girls were exhausted but happy, sitting at the table with mugs of warm milk and admiring their cookies. mimiko leaned against geto’s arm while nanako leaned against yours, both content and sleepy. geto glanced over at you, a soft smile on his face. “you were right, they loved it,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “told you,”

Kento Nanami:

tree picking with Kento was probably one of the most tedious tasks on the planet

you never expected him to be so serious about such a holiday, but you can't say you're surprised

nanami wasn't sure how he roped into picking out a Christmas tree with you, I mean, this wasn't exactly his idea of a relaxing afternoon. but with relentless begging and pleading on your end he found himself holding a saw in one hand while his other had his fingers laced between yours and secured in his coat pocket. "we should get this one" you gigglied while pointing towards a lopsided tree. "absolutely not." "but it adds character!" after what felt like hours of deliberation (and a lot of back and forth over the "symmetry of a tree") you finally settle on a tall, full tree, that met nanami's (ridiculous in your eyes) standards. decorating, however, was a different story. nanami was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. as he meticulously placed ornaments and adjusted the lights until everything was perfectly balanced. “It’s just a tree,” you teased as he redid the tinsel for the 3rd time. “It’s not ‘just a tree.’ It’s the centerpiece of Christmas,” he replied, dead serious. by the time the tree was finished, it was nothing short of a masterpiece. as you admired the warm glow of the lights, nanami handed you a cup of hot cocoa and let out a rare, contented sigh. “you were right,” he said softly. “It was worth the effort.” for the rest of the night, you caught him stealing glances at the tree, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

Ryomen Sukuna:

it took you 3 hours of incessant pestering for Ryomen to finally crack and join you on your holiday shopping trip

let's just say you end up regretting it.

sukuna couldn't care less about christmas. to him, it was nothing but an annoying excuse for humans to prance around in hideous sweaters and screech (sing) ridiculous songs to one another. so when you dragged him out to do christmas shopping, he made it his personal mission to ruin everyone else’s day. “why are we even here?” he grumbled as you wandered through aisles of ornaments and festive decorations. “because you need to get out more,” you replied, dodging his annoyed glare. but instead of helping, sukuna decided to make his own fun. anytime a kid got too close, he’d flash them a devilish grin, his sharp teeth on full display. “you better behave, or i’ll really give you something to cry about,” he said, voice low and menacing. cue the immediate screaming. “kuna!” you hissed, swatting his arm as the poor kid ran to their parents. “what? i thought this was the season for fear,” it got worse when he found an aisle with animatronic decorations (ok maybe this is just where I live but why is there still halloween decor out???). he’d activate the ones with creepy faces, making them jump-scare unsuspecting shoppers while he cackled in delight. “look at them! scrambling away like scared little mice,” he sneered, clearly having way too much fun. you, on the other hand, were mortified. “this is christmas, not halloween,” you groaned, dragging him away from the chaos he caused. but he just smirked, completely unbothered. “could’ve fooled me. everyone looks terrified.” by the time you finished shopping, the store staff was glaring at you, and sukuna looked smugger than ever. as you hauled your bags to the car, you gave him a pointed look. “you’re impossible.” note to self: never let him out to the general public.

Megumi Fushiguro:

megumi has been ice skating once in his life, at the age of 10

he fell flat on his ass and vowed to never touch the ice again

until you, that is

megumi still wasn’t sure how you convinced him to come ice skating. “it’s not like i’ll be good at it,” he grumbled, he was already mentally preparing for disaster. but somehow, here he was, lacing up skates while you beamed at him. a bright smile on your face as you tugged on the sleeve of his sweater (your favorite) and directed him towards the ice. the moment he stepped onto the ice, his legs wobbled like a newborn deer. he gripped the wall with a death grip, glaring at the ice as if it personally offended him. “this is stupid,” he muttered. you, ever the showoff, skated effortlessly back toward him, stopping with a little flourish. “you’re supposed to move, megumi, not cling to the wall,” you teased, holding out your hands. he stared at your hands, then at the ice, then back at your hands. “i’m going to fall,” he stated flatly. “probably,” you said with a shrug, “but that’s part of the fun!” begrudgingly, he let go of the wall and took your hands. his movements were stiff and awkward as you guided him across the ice. every slip and stumble made him scowl harder, his ears burning red from embarrassment. at one point, his balance gave out completely, and he went down with a thud. you tried not to laugh, but the way he just sat there, glaring and grumbling at the ice like it betrayed him, made it impossible. “go ahead. laugh,” he deadpanned. “i’m not laughing at you! just… near you,” you replied, wiping tears from your eyes before offering him a hand to get back up. he hesitated but eventually allowed you to help him. after a while, he found a rhythm—though he still refused to let go of your hand for long. by the end, he was still wobbly, still scowling, but there was a faint sense of satisfaction in his eyes. when you pointed it out, he rolled them and muttered, “it’s not like i enjoyed it.” he was a liar.

Yuji Itadori:

yuji was so excited to decorate gingerbread houses

at least, until the smell hit him

“this smells so good,” he said, already nibbling on one of the walls. “yuji, that’s supposed to be part of the house,” You watched as he sheepishly put it down… only to sneak a bite of a different piece when he thought you weren’t looking. you were. at first, he tried to stay focused. he squeezed out some frosting here, stuck a gumdrop to the roof there, and proudly showed it off like it was a masterpiece. but within minutes, you noticed the pile of gingerbread shrinking. at an abnormally fast rate. “yuji, for the love of—stop eating the house!” “i’m not!” he said, crumbs falling from his mouth as he tried to look innocent. “i’m just… quality checking.” "quality checking my—" by the time you finished your own gingerbread house, yuji’s was barely half built. instead of walls, there were just scattered crumbs and a single frosting-covered gummy bear left standing. it was a mess. “what happened to your house?” you asked, trying not to laugh. “it’s an abstract gingerbread house. very minimalist. also, i was hungry.” he shrugged, unapologetic. you couldn’t even be mad at him—especially when he offered you a piece of gingerbread with a sheepish grin. “want to split the roof? it’s the best part.”

Yuta Okkotsu:

it was a miracle that yuta was even in town for christmas

after a rough week-long mission you just wanted him to relax

yuta had just returned from a week-long mission, his exhaustion obvious in the way his eyes barely stayed open and the dark bags under them. his voice was hoarse from the travel and long days, and when he stepped into your place, he gave you a tired smile. “sorry, i’m late,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “it’s been a long week…” you didn’t mind, though. seeing him home was enough. “you’re not late,” you said softly, leading him to the couch. “how about we just spend christmas indoors? we can watch movies and… just relax.” his eyes flickered with relief at the idea. “sounds perfect,” he murmured, sinking into the couch beside you. you picked out a christmas movie to start, but the moment the opening credits rolled, you noticed his breathing slowing. yuta, still curled up in a blanket beside you, let out a soft sigh, his head leaning gently on your shoulder. as you ran your fingers through his hair, he gave a small hum of contentment. “you’re really tired, huh?” you asked quietly, looking down at him. “mm… a little,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “just need to rest for a bit… your hands feels nice…” the movie played on, but yuta didn’t even make it halfway through the first one. his body shifted, and soon, he was completely asleep, his head still resting on your shoulder, his chest rising and falling slowly in deep, peaceful breaths. you smiled softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair, the warmth of him against you making the entire room feel cozy. the movie continued, but no one was watching at this point. you pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead before whispering "welcome back, my love,"

an; i was gonna add toge but when I got home and clicked on my drafts I never finished his part and I couldn't for the life of me remember what I was going to do or think of a new idea so... sorry!

hope you all had a wonderful holiday!

unedited!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate or plagiarise my works

[charlesslut16]

-very merry christmas-

summary : you can't see your family, so Lando tries everything to make it happen...

PAIRINGS : lando norris x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : I hope that you have a great day, my loves!!!

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The gentle hum of the jet engines was familiar, a steady rhythm that usually calmed your nerves, but today, the soft noise only seemed to amplify the quiet ache in your chest.

You stared out of the small plane window, watching the clouds drift by in soft, cotton-like clumps. It should have been a comforting view, but all you could think about was how this Christmas was shaping up to be unlike any other.

You’d tried everything. You’d fought to get time off work, even sacrificed family traditions to make it happen. But no matter how hard you tried, no flights had been available.

Your mind raced with images of your family back home—your siblings laughing around the Christmas tree, your parents cooking in the kitchen, the sound of carols filling the house. You hadn’t seen them in what felt like forever, and now you wouldn’t be there to share the magic of Christmas morning with them.

Lando, your boyfriend, had been understanding, of course. He always was. It’s one of the things you loved most about him—his ability to always put others’ feelings first, even when his own were clearly brimming over with excitement.

You’d both decided to spend Christmas together in Monaco, with his family, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of missing your own. Lando had insisted, though, that you’d make new memories together. And while that was sweet, it didn’t stop the ache inside you.

Lando’s hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and tenderness.

You nodded, offering a half-hearted smile, trying to hide the disappointment that clung to you. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything. You know, Christmas.”

He squeezed your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “I know you’re missing your family, but I promise you, we’ll make it special. It won’t be the same, but it’ll be just as meaningful. I swear.”

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s just hard, you know?”

He smiled softly. “I get it. But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

You tried to focus on the bright side—the beauty of Monaco, the excitement of being with Lando’s family, but as the plane flew closer to its destination, the sadness didn’t seem to want to let go.

When the plane touched down, you were immediately swept up in the bustling energy of the Monaco airport. Lando was already in his element, his mind on everything at once. As the two of you navigated the crowds, you caught sight of the shining Christmas trees and twinkling lights that lined the walkways, and for a moment, you felt that familiar holiday warmth.

But when Lando turned to you, his expression serious and a little secretive, you knew something was up.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” he said, his eyes dancing with a playful gleam.

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said with a wink. “But first, we’ve got to head back to my parents’ house.”

You climbed into the car with him, the anticipation mounting in your chest. As the car sped through the streets of Monaco, you tried to imagine what could be in store, but nothing could have prepared you for what Lando had planned.

When you arrived at the house, the door swung open before you even had a chance to knock, and Lando’s parents greeted you warmly, their arms wide. You were soon swept inside, the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon filling your senses.

The house was decorated beautifully, lights sparkling in every corner. There was the unmistakable feel of holiday cheer, but something was different about the atmosphere—something that felt a little extra special, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

As you followed Lando through the hallway, you were greeted by more than just his family. You were greeted by your family.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at your mom, your dad, your sister, and your brother. They stood there in front of the grand Christmas tree, their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

“How—” You couldn’t finish the question, your voice cracking with emotion.

Lando smiled, his eyes glowing with warmth. “I know how much you’ve been missing them, so I flew them out. They’re here, just like you always wanted. We’re all going to have Christmas together.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that washed over you. “Lando… I can’t believe you did this.”

“You deserve to have your family with you, especially at Christmas,” he said softly. “I love you. And I wanted this to be perfect.”

Your heart was in your throat as you rushed toward your family, embracing them all at once. The warmth of their hugs enveloped you, and it felt as if all the space between you and home had finally melted away.

After the initial whirlwind of emotions settled, Lando gathered everyone together, leading you all into the living room, where the fire crackled softly in the hearth. It felt like a dream—a beautiful, surreal dream.

He turned to you then, his eyes shining. “There’s one more thing I need to do.”

Before you could even react, he was kneeling in front of you, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. You gasped, the breath catching in your chest.

“[Y/N],” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, “Christmas isn’t just about family. It’s about love. And you’re my everything. I want to spend every Christmas with you for the rest of our lives. So, will you marry me?”

The room fell silent, all eyes on you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, the words struggling to break free. But as you looked into Lando’s eyes, the man who had brought your family halfway across the world just to make this Christmas unforgettable, the answer was already clear.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

The room erupted into cheers and applause as Lando slid the ring onto your finger, his smile brighter than the Christmas lights surrounding you. It was a moment you would never forget—a moment where love, family, and everything you held dear came together in the most perfect way.

As you kissed him, feeling the joy and warmth of everything you’d ever wanted, you whispered against his lips, “This really is the very merriest Christmas.”

Lando’s arms wrapped around you tighter, pulling you closer as the cheers of your family echoed around you. “It’s only just begun,” he murmured. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

And with that, you knew you were home, no matter where you were.