#I am feeling soft in this chilli's tonight

[shslskaterboy]

Akira’s preferred vocal stim being singing will always be so real and true to me. I just hc him as always humming or singing little songs, mostly so quiet that no one else notices, but Ryuji notices. At first I think Akira would probably be kinda embarrassed about it, but Ryuji would be like “dude don’t even worry about it, you’ve got a nice voice” and that would be enough to help him relax about it. It would just be very nice for him to be able to sing without having to be self conscious about an audience, and I also think Ryuji would find it very relaxing bc Akira does have a nice voice and it’s very soothing to listen to. Sometimes Akira will purposefully sing for him when he’s feeling stressed, they’ll snuggle up together and he’ll hum so softly and play with Ryuji’s hair and give him gentle little kisses until every last bit of tension is melted away and they’re simply content together ❤️

[jacqueline-01]

[He’s obsessed]

A.H x Y/N

To be loved is to be truly seen and heard.

Aaron made sure of that through his quiet, thoughtful actions. From offering you an extra blanket on the plane ride back home to listening intently as you and Morgan bickered like siblings, he was always present. Though he rarely showed it, he couldn’t help but be impressed by your quick-witted comebacks to Morgan’s every remark. In his mind, you were one of the few who could stand up to his inner prosecutor, navigating his sharp, sometimes unyielding personality with ease.

Every time you caught his eye, there was a quiet connection, an unspoken understanding. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that he was paying attention. You could feel his gaze on you during cases, the way his subtle smile would appear when you offered your perspective, no matter how small. It wasn’t loud or brash, but it was there — a constant, steady presence that comforted you.

You, too, found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the way he led the team with calm authority, or how he could read people in a single glance. It was his silence, the way he carried a quiet strength, the way he never asked for anything in return. He made you feel seen, truly seen, in a world where most people overlooked the small, tender moments that meant everything.

There were moments you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and in those moments, your heart would race. He was a man of few words, but those fleeting moments of eye contact spoke volumes. He didn’t need to say “I love you” because you already knew. You could feel it in the way he would adjust the collar of your jacket on a chilly morning, or the small, comforting touches during stressful moments.

As the weeks passed, the air between you shifted. It was subtle, unspoken — but it was there. The way his hand lingered just a little too long when passing you a file, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way his voice softened whenever he addressed you. The tension was building, and you could feel it in your bones. But neither of you dared to break the silence.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both found yourselves at the same bar, unwinding with a drink. The dim lighting, the hum of quiet conversation around you, and the warmth of the moment made everything feel just a little more intimate.

The evening was quiet, the weight of the day’s case still lingering between you. You sat at the bar, nursing your drink, the low hum of conversation in the background. Aaron had been silent the entire ride over, his usual stoic presence beside you in the car, but tonight, something felt different. There was a palpable tension in the air, something unspoken that both of you had avoided addressing.

You took a sip from your glass, trying to push away the heaviness in your chest, but the silence was too much. You wanted to know if he felt it too — the way his presence made everything seem a little brighter, the way your heart beat a little faster when his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

Finally, you spoke, your voice softer than you intended. “Do you ever wonder… if we’re all just pretending? Pretending that this,” you gestured between the two of you, “isn’t something more than just… whatever this is?”

Aaron’s eyes flickered to you for a brief moment, his brow furrowing slightly, as if unsure whether you were talking about the case or something more personal. He studied you for a long second, the same way he did when he was trying to read someone. But this time, it was different. He wasn’t trying to figure out the suspect — he was trying to figure you out.

“You’re not talking about the case, are you?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You shook your head. “No. I mean… I guess I am. But not really.” You set your drink down, eyes fixed on the bar in front of you, afraid to meet his gaze. “I don’t know, Hotch. It’s like… I’ve always been aware of the way things are, but lately, everything just feels… louder.”

Aaron let out a breath, setting his drink down too, his gaze steady but intense. “Louder how?” His voice had a quiet curiosity to it, the kind that only surfaced when he was genuinely interested in someone’s perspective.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I guess it’s just… when we’re together, when we’re talking, it’s like I’m hearing everything, but also nothing. It’s confusing, you know?” You glanced at him then, your eyes meeting his for the first time all night. “I’ve been wondering if maybe… I’m just hearing what I want to hear.”

Aaron didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. “And what do you want to hear?” he asked, the question loaded with an intensity that you could feel in your chest.

Your heart beat a little faster. “I want to hear you say that you feel it too,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “That all this silence, all these moments… they mean something.”

There was a long pause. The air between you was thick with the weight of your confession, but Aaron didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat into his usual quiet self, the one that hid his emotions behind a mask. Instead, he leaned closer, just enough for you to feel the heat of his presence.

“I’ve felt it,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “More than I’ve let myself admit.” He reached across the bar, his hand brushing against yours in a gesture so small, but it felt like a promise. “I’ve been waiting for you to see it too.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. He had felt it. For how long? How long had he been waiting for you to say something? The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over everything you’d been holding back.

Before you could respond, Aaron spoke again, his voice now steadier, more certain. “I’ve been silent because I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is. But if I’m being honest with myself…” He paused, the words hanging between you. “I think we’ve both been pretending that this silence doesn’t mean something. Pretending that we don’t both want more.”

Your heart raced as you processed what he was saying. The silence that had hung between you for so long wasn’t just the absence of words — it was filled with everything that you both couldn’t say.

And then, as if all at once, the distance between you closed. Aaron’s hand found yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away. No more pretending. No more silence. Only the quiet understanding that, in that moment, everything had finally clicked into place.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It was a slow, tender kiss, full of everything you had both been too afraid to say. And as the kiss deepened, you realized that sometimes, it wasn’t the loud declarations of love that mattered. Sometimes, it was the quiet moments in between that spoke the loudest.

[hitomisuzuya]

OMG OPEN REQUESTS 😩 so basically this past few days I've been thinking how scara has that line that's something like "cant fall asleep around me?" cause usually you can't sleep around people you don't trust and all, SO LIKE I've been thinking about how he'd feel the first times he actually feels safe and trusting enough to sleep around his s/o? 🥹 Just pure fluffy fluff 🥹 hope it was understandable 😔🥲

scaramouche x fem! reader. fluffy fluff fluff, but that's not really a warning, is it?

it for sure would be a pivotal moment for him🥺

for scaramouche, trust wasn't even something he considered remotely investing in someone. unless they showed they trust him first. and that didn't happen very often.

the moment he realized he was seeing you show that you trust him completely threw him for a loop.

lately, his work as a harbinger kept him busy. he told you that he would come and see you later that night once he finished with work. however, it was very late. despite that, scaramouche came to see you anyways, fully expecting you to be to asleep long before he got there.

"what are you still doing awake? i told you not to wait up for me," there was a hint of frustration in his voice when he came into your room. it was very late and you needed sleep. sleep was a necessity for you, but a luxury for him.

scaramouche felt his chest tighten in a way he didn't think possible seeing your eyes light up. "scara, you are here. i missed you," you greeted, dog earring your place in the book you'd been reading and immediately going to him.

he promptly raised an eyebrow at you. "i didn't want to go bed without you," you added, looking away shyly with a blush on your cheeks that made him grit his teeth for a moment. it was just so..so cute.

that was when the screeching realization came up on him. you were showing trust in him. you stayed up and waited for him practically all night, trusting him to keep his word that he would come and see you.

"lucky for you i am staying here tonight," he announced, crossing his arms. "some weirdo is going around breaking into people's houses. and you left your front door unlocked," you trusted him enough to leave your front door unlocked in the middle of the night. trusted him enough to walk in whenever he pleased.

that had been hours ago.

since it was chilly out, scaramouche insisted that you sleep under a blanket. you curled up against him, resting your head on his chest. nuzzling against it, and letting out a soft sigh.

a sigh that said you couldn't fall asleep without him. were you restless without him? he swore his body aches being without you.

scaramouche's eyes widened a little looking down at you. you'd stopped responding to his casual questions about your day. your breathing was steady and even against his chest. you'd fallen asleep to the sound of his voice.

fallen asleep around him. he'd told you from day one you shouldn't trust someone like him. and yet, here you were, trusting him enough to fall asleep around him. he was very, very still for the longest time. moments like this were fragile. he thought if he twitched even a muscle, the moment would shatter like glass.

it wasn't long before his fingers started idly stroking through your hair. your hair felt so soft under his fingers. your body felt so warm and comforting against his. you are his. and he is yours. he was further comforted by that thought.

sleep was a luxury scaramouche didn't need, but could choose to indulge in whenever he wishes. as his eyelids drifted closed, he wondered if this was what all being right with the world felt like. he is right where he needed to be.

feeling needed helped him feel safe.

and that was more valuable than anyone could possibly imagine to him.

[3vergr3en]

Heartbeat

_________________

Summary: Evening naps in Jasper’s bed is a usual thing that happens daily, but the vampire isn’t complaining. Instead he loves it, Y/N’s heartbeat is Jasper’s haven.

Additional Info: (Fem!Human!Reader x Vampire!Jasper Hale.) Some sensual kisses being shared. Overall fluff. This is my first one-shot of Jasper Hale! Please ask for more requests!

Mentions of the Cullen Family, specifically Esme and Emmet.

TW: Slightly suggestive.

_________________

Rain droplets can be heard splattering outside onto the windows of Jasper’s room, but no sound can disrupt the deep slumber of Y/N. You were sprawled out on Jasper’s bed (that was installed shortly after your visits became more frequent). You were laying on your stomach, your left knee raised up to your side and your arms buried under the ivory colored silk pillow. Your breathing heavy but quiet. The aroma of Timber & Patchouli filled the interior, being lit by the vampire shortly after the mortal fell asleep.

Jasper laid beside the human, his back pressed against the wooden headboard of his bed while his hand played with a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair, This was a usual event that happens, and he loved it. He couldn’t get enough of hearing the gentle, repetitive beats of her heart. It was calming for the immortal.

Whenever he felt stressed or overwhelmed, he’d stand behind the latter and wrap his arms around her waist. He then would hide his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in the female’s pleasant fragrance, drowning out his thoughts with her heartbeat.

“Jasper..?” Y/N calls out groggily. You slowly, but eventually push yourself up with your arms so that you’re now sitting up. Your arms extending outwards while a yawn left your lips. “Yes, darlin’?” Jasper quietly chuckles, finding the tired mortal to be cute. “I’m right behind you, love.” His voice soothing.

“Mm.. How long was I asleep for?” You ask, turning around to face Jasper with half-lidded eyes. “Just a little over an hour.” The male hums, reaching out to pull you onto his lap. You shiver at the sudden chilliness of his skin in contact with yours, but you soon grow used to it. “What are you looking at? Is there drool on my chin?” You question after noticing the male staring up at you. You turned your face away from the latter, trying to wipe away any saliva from the corner of your lips. “There’s nothing there, hon’. I’m just appreciating the beauty that’s in front of me.” Jasper whispers the last sentence into your ear, pecking your cheek afterwards. You quickly turned your head back to look at Jasper with slightly widened eyes. You gently hit his chest before covering your face with your hands, “Jasper!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “..thank you, love.” You smiled, leaning in closer to fill the gap between the two of you, his lips feeling so soft against yours.

A small, faint gasp left your lips once you felt Jasper’s hands firmly grip at your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin. He smiled into the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You hum against his lips, pressing your chest up against his broad chest. Your hands riding up his soft, golden locks. “Jasper..” You pulled away momentarily to softly whisper before leaning back in. His lips detaches from yours, leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline. “Are you hungry, my love?” He asks, pulling back to look at you in your eyes. You smile and nodded, “Starving actually.“

“Esme insisted on cooking tonight because she couldn’t the last time you came over. She felt very guilty for having you leave on an empty stomach, so beware for a feast.” Jasper chuckles as he intertwines both of your guy’s hands together, bringing them up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Oh god, how am I going to finish all of it? You and the cullen’s don’t eat food.” You pout as you make your way off of Jasper’s lap, worrying about how you’re going to finish all of the food. “It’s okay, just sleep over tonight and have the rest for breakfast tomorrow mornin’.” Jasper says as he shifts over to the edge of his bed, shortly standing up afterwards. “I suppose that’s fine. My parents are away for the weekend.” You shrugged, standing up from Jasper’s bed, laughing at Jasper’s enlightened face. “C’mere, give me a kiss.” You ordered, shuffling over to Jasper to wrap your arms around his neck, tipi-toeing to take the male’s lips into yours once again.

But the door slams open abruptly, revealing the tall, built brown-haired vampire. “Y/N! Dinner’s ready!” Emmet announces, immediately regretting his enthusiastic entrance when he’s met with Jasper’s glare. “Dude, seriously?”

“Thank you, Emmet!” You thank, equally as energetic as the brown-haired vampire. You looked over to Jasper with a grin, patting his chest in attempt to calm the latter.

“Oh shit— sorry. My bad.” He laughs, “I’ll just..” He trails off, speedily running down the hall to the stairway.

“Now.. where were we?” Jasper hums with a smirk, leaning in.

“Nuh-uh. C’mon cowboy. I’m hungry.” You laugh, quickly running away from the immortal before he has a chance to pull you back into a kiss.

“Hey-! Wait! That’s not fair!” Jasper calls out, using his vampire speed to easily catch up to the young woman.

[mingtinys]

[11:45 p.m.]

pairing : song mingi x gn!reader

fluff , humor , comfort fic

warnings : thunderstorms

word count : 0.7 k

requested ? no

a/n : i am not the least bit ashamed to admit this was slightly inspired by that one ouran host club episode. it is my comfort episode. sue me.

Typically, you're one to enjoy a good Summer storm. You're rather fond of the cozy peace they bring. Especially late at night, when the heavy rain starts to sound like static and lulls you into a deep sleep. Interrupted only by soft rolls of thunder and the occasional blue flickers of lightning.

But the one tonight is far too aggressive for your taste.

The rain is deafening as it continues its onslaught against your poor window. And each startling crash of lightning precedes an even louder boom that shakes the room. Rattling picture frames that hang delicately on the walls.

You won't be sleeping tonight. That's for sure.

Anxiety wraps its nimble fingers around your heart and squeezes with each subsequent lighting strike. Digging its claws deeper and deeper until you can't take it anymore.

Your comforter is quickly tossed to the side, skin exposed to the chilly night air in your desperate escape. You tiptoe your way to the living room, searching for the giant scaredy-cat you know is likely up calming his own nerves.

And sure enough, there he is.

Cuddled up on the couch with the fuzziest blanket he owns draped over his shoulders. He's mindlessly acrolling through his phone with his headphones on at full volume. You can just barely make out the faint song playing through them.

You creep up slowly so as not to spook him, though it doesn't do much good. Mingi still flinches as soon as your shadow casts across the room with yet another flash from outside. Whipping his head around so fast you're surprised he doesn't get whiplash. But he quickly recovers, laughing at himself once he realizes it's just you.

He slips off his headphones and lets them hang from around his neck. "Storm keeping you up?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you liked storms," he frowns.

"I do, this one's just a little..."

Mingi hums. "I get it. Come, sit." He pats the open spot beside him and you sit. His arm wraps around your shoulder, enveloping you into his blanket cocoon and pulling you in until you're smooshed against his side.

"Did the storm spook you too?" You ask, resting your head on the junction of his neck.

"Pfft, no, I like being awake–"

A giant crack of lightning strikes the pavement outside a little too close for comfort and startles the both of you. Mingi even lets loose a sharp string of curses. It makes you giggle, which unwinds the knot in your stomach just enough to tease your boyfriend.

"You were saying?"

But then the power flickers as the wind picks up and you're eating your words. Tensing at the near-instant karma for teasing Mingi. The wind is the worst part, in your opinion.  You hate how it howls and bellows as it whips around the corners of your home. It echoes through your head, sending you into a spiral of anxiety. Heart racing so fast you can feel its pulse in every limb.

Until suddenly, it all stops. Muted by calming tunes blasting through the headphones placed over your ears.

You glance up at Mingi, pulling one side back. "Are you sure you don't need them?"

"No, I'll be okay. Besides, I'm your big strong boyfriend, it's my job to take care of you." Mingi puffs his chest, looking rather proud of his heroic act.

"You're such a dork."

He just smiles and shakes his head at your comment. Then taps through his playlist to find music he knows you like. "Just try to get some sleep," he says as he readjusts the headphones and presses a long kiss to your temple.

To his credit, the headphones do a wonderful job of blocking out the storm. You wouldn't even know it was still ongoing if it weren't for the way Mingi jumps up every so often. Completely defenseless against the rampage outside now that you've taken his only protection. And even though each time you look at him, he reassures you with a tight smile, you know he's dying a little on the inside with each boom of thunder.

So, eventually, you coax him to lie down and tuck his head to your chest, holding him with your arm pressed over his ear. He hums when your fingers slowly toy with his hair, the vibration of it tickling your skin. Within seconds, he's fully melted into you. The both of you slipping into a slumber with the storm now nothing but background noise.

taglist: @dontwannaexsist

[aisiedaisie]

Helllllo!! Could you maybe do a wolfstar x reader (or anyone if you don’t do that :))) with a reader who lovesssss makeup and has like a big collection and spends a bunch of money on it and maybe the boys being super intrigued or confused by it? <3

Hello hello~!!! Thank you for this amazing idea! I wasn’t sure if you were asking for romantic or platonic wolfstar but I may have gone the romantic route. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, it seems I am utterly incapable of writing short stories... Hopefully you don't mind!

Poly! Wolfstar x Fem!Reader WC: 2k

You breathe out, the exhale a soft puff that lingers in the chilly air. Your fingers run through your hair, frustration creeping up your spine.

It's a mess—which wasn’t new for days like this. The winter winds have stolen every ounce of moisture, leaving your strands dry and unruly. The static makes each strand stand on end, refusing to fall into place as you try to tame them with a bit of leave-in conditioner.

But today, of all days, it needs to cooperate.

You glance in the mirror, taking in your reflection. This is the first time you're hosting date night at your place, and after hours of prepping dinner, tidying up every inch of the apartment, your hair had become the least cooperative part of the evening. You sigh, trying to smooth the mess down, but it feels hopeless.

A light knock on the door pulls your attention away, snapping you out of your frustration. Your heart gives a flutter, and you take a moment to steady your nerves. The knocking continues, a little more insistent, and you curse under your breath as you give your reflection one last look. Your cream knit sweater and well-worn jeans are fine—fine—but not exactly what you'd imagined wearing on such a special evening. It’s casual, maybe too much so, but you tell yourself to let it go. You smooth down the hem and force a shy smile.

The door creaks open, and you greet them with a soft, sweet "Hey." Your voice betrays a touch of nerves, but you stand tall, holding the door wide open as you invite them inside.

Remus and Sirius stand frozen in the hallway just outside your door, their eyes taking in your appearance with an intensity that makes you feel as though they're seeing straight through you. A soft smile spreads across Remus’s face, while Sirius’s lips curl into a wolfish grin. They both seem to sense the knot of anxiety in your chest, reading it effortlessly, as if it was as obvious as the frazzled mess of your hair.

"Hey, dove, you okay there?" Remus asks, his voice a gentle murmur as he bends down, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of your head. The sudden contact sends a spark of calm through you, though the tightness in your stomach doesn’t quite fade.

"Yeah, you look a bit nervous," Sirius adds, his tone teasing yet soft. His lips brush your cheek in a quick kiss as he steps past you into the flat, his eyes flicking over the space, taking in the cozy chaos of your preparations.

The living room, while small, is filled with the soft charm of the season. A few scattered holiday decorations dot the space—pine cones nestled in a crystal dish on the dark wood coffee table, their spiced scent mingling with the candles burning nearby. The flickering lights cast a warm glow across the room, the air thick with the comforting scent of mulled cider and cinnamon, drifting lazily from the kitchen.

They’ve been here before, of course. They’ve picked you up for dates, lingered in the living room while you finished getting ready. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, they’re not just picking you up. They’re settling in, staying awhile, and something in the atmosphere shifts. The space feels fuller, more alive somehow, even with the quiet tension you’re trying so hard to hide.

"Come on in, make yourselves at home," you say, your voice a little steadier now, though still laced with uncertainty. You close the door behind them, your fingers brushing along the handle as you take their coats and drape them over the back of the couch. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding, giving you something to focus on.

You lead them into the dining room, where the table is set in preparation for dinner. White tealights glow softly, casting delicate shadows on the polished surface. Your nice dinner plates gleam under the candlelight, silverware set just so, ready to be used. It’s a simple, intimate setup, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s enough.

Remus pauses in the center of the room, scanning the flat before turning back to you with a gentle smile. “Do you mind if I use the restroom, love?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement as he looks around the space, searching for the door.

You smile softly, pointing down the hallway. "It’s the second door on the left," you say, your voice light.

Remus nods with a grateful look before darting down the hallway, eager to relieve himself. Sirius watches him go with a shake of his head, chuckling under his breath. "He’s had to pee since we got to your street," Sirius says, his tone laced with affection and amusement.

You can’t help but laugh, your fingers busying themselves with pouring warm cider into mugs. 

That’s when you hear Remus’s voice, sharp and full of surprise. "What the hell?"

A rush of concern flutters through you, catching your breath. You freeze, the warm cider sloshing in the cup you hold, spilling a few droplets as you try to make sense of his exclamation. What did I forget? Was it your hairbrush on the counter again? No... you made sure it was put away. You rack your brain for a moment, but nothing stands out.

Sirius, ever the quick one, is already walking down the hall, following the sound of Remus’s voice. You move to follow, two steps behind him, a strange tightness settling in your chest.

You watch as they reach the second door on the right, and your eyes widen.

Sirius peeks in first, curiosity piqued, and his voice rings out with a hint of amusement. "Moons?" he asks, stepping into the space. He tilts his head to look around, his gaze landing on the long white vanity in front of them. Your heart skips a beat as you catch up, now standing in the doorway just behind them.

The vanity stretches out before you, gleaming under the soft light. Clear storage cabinets line the sides of the mirror, each one filled to the brim with various cosmetics: lipsticks in shades you can’t even name, neatly arranged bottles of foundation, and an assortment of brushes that you’d long since given up organizing. Your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and mild surprise, realizing they’ve stumbled upon your private little collection.

Sirius raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Remus stands there, his expression somewhere between shock and genuine curiosity. The air between the three of you crackles with unspoken words as you stand in the doorway, feeling every bit of their gaze on the cluttered, yet carefully curated, space.

Your lips press together as you try to formulate an explanation, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. What can I possibly say now that they've seen all of this? You stand there, torn between embarrassment and amusement, watching the two of them as they take in the sight of your beauty room.

“Holy shit, love, I knew you liked makeup, but I didn’t think you liked it this much,” Sirius says, his tone an odd mix of shock and awe. He steps closer, eyes roving over the meticulously organized rows of products. Beside him, Remus examines the array with a look of sheer bewilderment.

“You... you actually use all of this?” he asks, gesturing to the overflowing drawers, as if struggling to comprehend.

You nod shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Not all at once, of course, but... yeah.” You glance over at them, hoping they’re not overwhelmed.

Sirius reaches out, his eyes lighting up as he picks up a familiar tube. “This is the lipstick I bought you for Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs, a fond smile spreading across his face. He turns the deep red Gucci lipstick in his fingers, the one he’d surprised you with on that special day. It’s a brand you’d never splurge on for yourself, and the fact that he remembers only softens the moment.

Remus clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Alright, hang on—I really need to pee, but we are so talking about this when I get back.” He gives you a quick, reassuring smile before dashing out of the room, leaving you alone with Sirius, who is still absorbing the scope of your collection.

Noticing your discomfort, Sirius settles himself into the plush chair in front of your vanity mirror. He catches your eye in the reflection, a mischievous gleam brightening his gaze. “Love, can you do my makeup?” His grey eyes lock with yours, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

“What do you want, Siri?” you ask, moving to stand behind him, your hands instinctively finding their way into his dark, unruly curls. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back into your touch, a low groan escaping his lips.

“Reggie’s been wearing eyeliner lately, and it actually looks pretty cool. Can you do that for me?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed, totally at ease.

A sweet hum escapes you as you think it over. “Are we talking waterline or a wing?” you ask, fingers combing gently through his hair.

“Which one’s easier?” he asks, eyes cracking open to meet yours, genuine curiosity lighting his face.

“For you? Probably a wing,” you explain with a smile, reaching over his shoulder to grab your favorite liquid liner. “Putting it in your waterline can get uncomfortable. I’ll go easy on you.”

He chuckles, a small smirk forming as he settles in, clearly ready for whatever you’re about to do.

Remus steps back into the room, his hands settling on your hips with an easy familiarity. You feel his warmth as you focus, steadying the felt-tip pen and carefully flicking it to form the perfect wing at the corner of Sirius’s closed eyes.

“And what exactly are you two up to?” he asks, voice laced with fond amusement. His hazel eyes shine with a soft curiosity, watching as you carefully hover over Sirius.

You glance up, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “Just spreading my love of makeup,” you quip, your voice light with humor.

At that, Sirius opens his eyes slowly, catching sight of himself in the vanity mirror. The sharp lines of the eyeliner bring a new edge to his look, making his grey eyes look strikingly intense. A small, satisfied grin spreads across his face as he takes in the transformation. “Damn—I look good.”

“When don’t you look good?” Remus laughs, shaking his head as he leans in closer. There’s a warmth in his gaze, a kind of love that makes the room feel cozier.

You smile, leaning across Sirius once more to reach for your favorite lip oil. Without a second thought, you swipe it across your lips, the slight sheen catching the light before you turn, tiptoeing to press a soft, lingering kiss to Remus’s lips. He blinks in surprise, feeling the film of oil on his lips, and a bashful smile spreads across your face.

“There. Now you’re dolled up too,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Remus’s cheeks flush, and he lets out a quiet laugh. “Lucky me,” he replies, squeezing your hips gently.

You dart your gaze away, the warmth of the moment lingering as your eyes catch the soft glow of the digital clock on the corner of your vanity. The numbers blink back at you, a gentle reminder of time ticking by.

With a small sigh, you reluctantly shake yourself out of the cozy, dreamlike bubble surrounding the three of you. “We should head back out. I’ve got dinner in the oven.”

Sirius groans dramatically but rises from the chair, throwing you an affectionate look as he reaches out to link his arm with yours. Remus follows, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, the three of you moving back into the warmth of the dining room, surrounded by candlelight and the smell of cider that fills the air like a promise of a perfect evening ahead.

[ki-kink]

Hi. I've been interested in the wereteenager theme and in particular in the transformation, but I have trouble imagining it. It seems to be gradual and has various phases. Is there a precise sequence in the physical changes? How do fat mass and muscle mass change in the various parts of the body? Is it painful? What thoughts or images form in your mind during the various phases? In short, if we were to shoot a scene from a film that represents it in its entirety, like the one in "An American Werewolf in London", how should we imagine it.

There is no photographic or even filmed documentation. What I have found is this protocol of a patient. Sorry, that's all I know….

22:00: Photo for the transformation protocol is taken. It's the usual feeling before a Friday night. Anxiety. Anticipation. In any case, it's a strange feeling.

06:00: The alarm clock wasn't actually supposed to ring for another 20 minutes. But like almost every Friday, I'm woken up by an incredible morning erection. Like almost every Friday morning, I also had a wet dream. I have to make up the bed.

06:30: To get rid of the erection, I masturbated in the bathroom. It didn't take long to ejaculate. The plan to measure the amount once didn't work out again as I spread my sperm uncontrollably around the bathroom. My testicles are covered in soft fuzz, as is my upper lip.

07:30: After showering, I had to masturbate a second time. I have the feeling that the ejaculation was stronger than the first one. Although I'm freshly showered, I already smell of sweat under my armpits again. My armpit hair is much bushier than usual.

09:30: The morning board at Teams was torture. I find it hard to concentrate. Especially when Luke is in a call. He looks incredibly hot. I have a steadfast erection and a wet precum stain in my pants.

12:00: The morning has been exhausting. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. To be honest, I've been online most of the time. Watching football scores, TikTok, Instagram… My colleagues went out for a salad. I had such a craving for a burger. I went to a burger joint around the corner. There were three hot high school jocks sitting at a table. I asked if I could sit with them. The looks were a mixture of disgusted and amused.

2:00 p.m.: Had to jerk off, couldn't help myself. Fantasized about standing in the shower with the guys from the burger joint after a soccer training session. When I washed my hands afterwards, I looked in the mirror. Despite shaving this morning, there's already beard fuzz on my upper lip again. But apart from that, my reflection pisses me off. That's not me. I'm not an old man.

4:30 p.m.: End of work. At last. On the subway, I see that I'm wearing my worn-out Chucks. It's a good thing none of my colleagues saw. The sun will set in a good hour. I still have no idea what I'm going to do tonight. There's not much pocket money left. Shit, I have to piss. Good thing I have to go out next stop.

4:35 pm: Yo, I'm at the station loo, takin' a leak. Bro, my dude: Däng! This thing's rock hard, like a baseball bat, no joke! My whole body's shakin', but not 'cause it's chilly. More like when you're doin’ your thing on the QB's ass. Man, my bladder was about to explode. Piss everywhere—looked like I got sprayed. Had to swap my threads. Good thing we got football practice today, right?

4:42 pm: I'm at the sink in my jersey and shorts, checkin' my hair, feelin' fresh. Then this dude sneaks up behind me, crazy eyes and all. His hand's on my junk, and he’s old—like 30 or somethin'. Just goes “50”. Bro, 50 bucks for a blowie?! Jackpot! This night is gonna be lit!

02:00 am: Dude, I'm so lit right now! Almost forgot that damn control pic. But the team doc and coach need it, I think. Gotta hit up that skater dude I met at the club. Total lean machine, dude’s got stamina, and an epic cock! Let’s go!

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines pt 3

Author’s Note: Y’all really like Dr. Pines (me too) i am so happy this has been received so well!! I hope that yall continue to enjoy this story bc i love writing it <3 I’m so sorry it's been so long since the last update. It has been insanely busy like dawg these finals are not gucci mane in 2006 however after this semester i’ll have my bachelor’s degree so there’s that 😩

June 16th 

You and Ford again found yourself in the woods, searching for the game cameras you had set up to take pictures of the elusive critters you were studying. You had no luck seeing them yet, unfortunately, and you were feeling a tad discouraged. Thankfully, Ford helped you remain positive throughout the past couple of weeks. 

“I just don’t understand, Ford,” you sighed. “When I came out here earlier in the year I saw so many of them! I just hope we aren’t too late.” 

“Don’t worry, my dear, we will find them. I know it.” You looked at him to see him giving you a reassuring smile. You could feel the butterflies forming in your stomach.

“Thank you. I hope you’re right.” You faced the game camera and crouched down to remove the SD card from the bottom of it. Then, out of the corner of your eye… You saw it.

Your eyes went wide and all the air left your body in the form of a gasp. “Ford!” you hissed, tugging on his wrist. 

“What? What do you see?” he asked, concerned. He started looking around in all the wrong directions. On a whim, you grabbed his chin and turned his head to face forward.

“Look,” you replied quietly, pointing towards the furry creatures littering the ground. “It’s them.” You were looking at the entire reason you had made the trip to the Appalachian. They were small creatures with thick, brown fur covering their round bodies. Scaly legs peeked out from underneath their fur along with a spiky, scaled tail; the face was that of a weasel or mink.

“It’s what we’ve been looking for,” you said breathlessly, your hands shaking. Ford glanced at you with a fond, but proud, expression on his face. Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. You then felt his warm hand around your shoulder, pulling you towards him. At this point, you were both kneeling in the soft dirt of the forest. His broad body enveloped yours in an embrace, his arms holding you gently against him. He was warm and so strong. 

Ford’s chin was placed on your shoulder. “I am so happy for you, Y/N.” His voice rumbled in your chest. “I never doubted you for a second.” He pulled away from you to have his eyes meet yours. You were wiping away the tears that were now flowing down your cheeks. He squeezed your shoulders, his thumbs stroking the soft skin below the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Thank you for believing in me, Ford,” you replied shakily. You were filled with an unbelievable amount of joy as you watched the creatures waddle through the creek in front of you. 

“Well, we have no time to waste.” Ford stood up, offering his hand to you. You grabbed it and he helped pull you up from the ground. “Let’s get to work.” 

After you and Ford developed a plan on how you were going to study these creatures of the summer, it was time to celebrate your success. Ford had suggested that you roast hot dogs and marshmallows over a small bonfire tonight. You agreed immediately. 

“I would love that! It’s been too long since my last marshmallow,” you said forlornly. Ford laughed and removed his sweater to reveal the plaid button-up he was wearing underneath. It had been an uncharacteristically chilly day for summer in Tennessee, but now it had started to warm up. 

“I’ll go ahead and start chopping firewood while you finish up cataloging today’s progress. How’s about that?” Ford asked. 

You grinned back at him. “Deal.” Ford returned your smile before walking out the sliding door of the kitchen to the backyard. It didn’t take you long to type the long-awaited update on your project into the laptop in front of you, so you decided to wash the dishes in the sink from this morning’s breakfast. Ford had decided to surprise you with pancakes and eggs. To be completely honest, they weren’t that tasty, but you appreciate the sentiment. Not everyone can be good at everything. Not even the smartest man you’ve ever met. 

You began to run warm water for the sink, dousing the plateware in dish-washing liquid. When it was bubbly enough, you grabbed a rag and began to scrub them. 

Thunk!

You looked up and out the window above the sink to see Ford with an axe, chopping wood like he said he would. But, my God. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. You could see the dark brown hair that covered them; the sun had begun to highlight the sweat collecting in the follicles. The blue jeans he wore were taut against him, accentuating his strong legs with every swing of the axe. 

Thunk!

He had cracked the wood in the middle, causing it to separate into two pieces. Your mouth was slightly agape, saliva pooling in the curve of your bottom lip. Just like that, he had set up another log onto the stump, raised the axe above his head, and brought it down with all his might. You gasped as he made a large dent in the wood. He paused to tilt his head and examine the damage he’d done to it. Probably looking for the most efficient way to chop it you had thought. But you wanted him to take it nice and slow. You could watch this all damn day. Ford then ran a hand into his thick, gray hair before turning his head towards the window you were gawking at him through. 

“Shit, shit,” you whispered, suddenly very interested in the soapy dishes in front of you. You began to wash them as nonchalantly as possible. 

What you didn’t see was Ford’s self-satisfied smirk knowing he had caught you staring. Truth is, he could be going faster while chopping this wood, but when he first noticed you looking at him, he wanted to put on a little bit of a show. He went slower, swung a bit more dramatically. It made him feel good to know that he was being admired. Especially by you. 

Later that night, you and Ford were sitting on two lawn chairs beside each other, laughing together over a story you told. You had finished your campfire meal long before then; talking with Ford made time fly by. He had the most interesting stories about cryptids he had faced in the past and how he studied them. While you didn’t have as many swashbuckling stories as him, he was a very active listener nonetheless. He asked questions, had commentary, and reacted in all the right moments. You had both stayed out there so long that he had given you his coat to keep out the cold of the night air. It was lighter than you thought it would be and didn’t really have any sort of cologne smell. It more just smelled like the outdoors which was fine. You were warm and his forearms were out again, so you were okay. 

You could’ve sat there all night long with him, but you could feel your body succumbing to sleepiness, and you still needed to shower. You yawned and stood to stretch out your arms. “Ford, I would consider today one of our best days so far,” you declared as he rose to his feet next to you. 

“I would have to agree with you, my dear,” he replied. “It was an exciting day, indeed, finding the creatures and all.” 

“I mean,” you said, “even if we hadn’t found the little guys today, I still would say this was one of our best days.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your face become warm. “I really enjoyed talking with you. That was a lot of fun. I could listen to you for hours.” At this point, you were looking at the ground too bashful to look him in the eye. 

The night helped cover the tinge of pink that covered Ford’s cheeks. “The feeling is mutual, Y/N,” he murmured. There was a short pause between you two as your eyes finally met. You were mimicking each other’s dopey smiles. “Well, I know you need to get ready for bed and all, so I won’t keep you. I hope you have a goodnight. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, so you’ll need the rest. Don’t worry, I’ll put out the fire.” 

You nodded. “Thank you, Ford. I’ll see you in the morning. I hope you have sweet dreams.” With that, you went inside the cabin to shower, brush your teeth, and crash into a coma like sleep on your bed. 

Ford had gone into the bathroom after extinguishing the fire to shower off today’s work. Showering was always something he looked forward to. It was one of the only things that helped him relax his tense muscles. He finished his shower after a thorough wash and when he swished the curtain to the side, he noticed his coat hanging off the hook of the bathroom door. Ford then smelled a sweet, floral scent coming from the fabric inside of the coat. 

It was you.

He walked to his room as quietly as possible, making sure to miss some especially creaky floorboards to not wake you up. When he got to his room, he sat at the end of his bed taking a deep inhale of the coat. 

This must be your perfume, he thought. It was intoxicating. Ford exhaled deeply. This is so wrong. You were his student. He was supposed to be your mentor. But damn it all, the way you look at him, the way you speak, the way you do anything… Breathtaking.

Ford inhaled the most potent spot of the coat, closing his eyes this time. He lifted himself off the edge of the bed slightly to pull down his sleep pants. His erect cock sprung forth and he began to stroke himself, practically suffocating in your scent.

The coat managed to stifle his moans as his mind began to wander. He thought about laying you down on this very bed, undressing you, worshipping you. His hands would slide up your soft skin while he left hickies on your collar bone, letting everyone know you were his. He would massage your soft breasts and take your nipple into his mouth. He imagined you mewling, your fingers carding through his hair. He would then… 

“Oh, fuck,” Ford moaned, stroking faster. 

He would then push your legs up so that he could get a full view of your dripping cunt, dragging his finger across your folds. He would pump his finger faster and faster, your breasts bouncing along with the force of his hand. He would make you cum on his fingers, watching your face be contorted with pleasure. He would then…

“Please,” Ford whimpered into the coat, taking another inhale, a sacarrhine aroma filling his senses.

His tongue would delve into you, exploring your taste while your thighs wrapped around his head, clenching harder as pleasure took over. You would grind down on his nose, chasing another orgasm. The way he imagined you screaming his name brought him to orgasm. 

A guttural groan escaped his throat. Hot, white cum spilled over his fist as Ford’s chest heaved. He removed the coat from his face to see his reflection in the mirror. Red splotches covered his face and neck. He shook his head and looked down at the mess he made.

“I’m going to Hell.”

[jobean12-blog]

In It for the Long Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 1,656

Summary: Joel is out for the night and when he returns early and wants you to leave work and come home you know something isn't right.

Author's Note: Just because I love him and missed him and this seems like something that could really happen when you're with a biker. PS our sweet little black kitten Ink is here too- she's getting big and just loves Joel of course! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, little angst sprinkled in here and there, mentions of blood but very light

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“Joel just text me that he’s here.”

You look at your friend Jade with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong? Isn’t he going to come in?” she asks.

“He said he can’t come in. He wants to know if I can leave now.”

“Of course you can babe,” Jade says quickly. “Dan and I will be fine tonight.”

“Are you sure…I don’t know what’s goin…”

“Don’t worry,” Jade assures you. “Just go to him. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You nod with a hard swallow and rush to the back to gather your things, texting Joel as you go that you’ll be right out.

Your legs are slightly shaky as you approach the door, a feeling of dread weighing you down with each step.

At first you don’t see him but then you hear the rev of his engine and your gaze is drawn to his bike. He’s parked across the street with his headlights off.

“Joel?” you question when you reach his bike.

He holds his arms out for you and you rush into them, burying your face in his neck.

“What’s going on?” you mumble into his skin.

“Let’s go home,” he says quietly.

You pull back to look at him and let out a gasp.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine darlin.’ Really I am. Just need a little help gettin’ cleaned up.”

Your eyes instantly well with tears and you lift your finger to gently brush it across his bruised cheek.

“Aw angel, no tears. I promise it’s nothin’.”

“But Joel…you’re bleeding and bruised…”

The tears roll down your cheeks, hot and wet, and his hands cup your face, thumbs sweeping across your skin to wipe them away.

“Are you ok to drive? Should we take the car? Do you need a doctor?”

Your questions come out in a rush and your voice is high pitched with worry.

He shakes his head no and the side of his mouth twitches with a smile.

“No. Just need you.”

You study him, your eyes lingering on his face until you whisper, “ok, let’s go home.”

He takes his helmet from the handlebars and secures it on your head before unzipping his leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Let’s zip this up. It’s chilly tonight,” he says.

“Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?”

“You always do darlin’.”

He kisses you softly on the side of the mouth and then helps you onto the back of his bike.

The ride home is short, less than ten minutes, but in that time the wind picks up and sky opens up with rain.

As you near the house the headlights from his bike reflect off the growing puddles on the street and you shiver against his back.

He pulls over and kills the engine, holding out his hand for you to hop off. He tucks you protectively under his arm and walks you to the door.

“I hope you didn’t get too wet angel,” he says.

“I’m fine,” you say as you walk in and turn on the light.

You turn to him and fresh tears fill your eyes.

“Let me just get us towels and the first aid kit. Don’t move.”

You rush off to the bathroom just as Ink hops off the ledge of the front window. She meows at Joel and then starts to rub between his legs.

“Hey, you,” he says as he picks up the small black cat.

Her tiny pink nose delicately explores his chin before she reaches up with a paw and softly presses it to his cheek.

“Don’t be worried like your mama. I’m fine,” he tells the cat.

“She knows you’re hurt,” you say when you return and find the two of them standing by the door staring at each other.

You take his free hand and walk him toward the couch.

“You might have to set her down for a minute. I want to get your wet shirt off.”

He puts the cat down on the couch and then grabs the hem of his shirt.

“Wait,” you say quietly. “Let me. Please.”

He drops the material and looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Ok angel. Whatever you want.”

“Lift your arms,” you instruct him as you start to peel his shirt up and off.

Inch by inch his wet skin is revealed, his tattoos along with it and you find yourself inspecting every inch of him for more injuries before gently pressing the towel to his chest. You do nothing to hide your shameless perusal of him and he’s clearly enjoying it, his eyes sparkling and his lips turned up into a boyish smirk.

“Anything else hurt?”

“Nah, but you can keep checkin’ all ya want.”

He winks at you when you look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Ok sit and tell me what happened.”

He sits with a plop and extends his arm to pet Ink while you start to work off his boots.

“I can do that angel, it’s no…”

When your eyes meet his he clamps his mouth shut, only opening it again to explain that some out of town biker gang had started some trouble with him and the boys. No of the boys were hurt more than some bumps, scrapes and bruises but the other guys weren’t as lucky.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t any worse,” you sigh. “I got so scared when you said you wanted me to come home and all. I figured you would come in and have a drink…”

“I know darlin.’ I’m sorry I scared you. I knew I couldn’t go in the bar lookin’ like this though.”

“It’s ok. Just promise me you’ll always be careful.”

“Always,” he whispers.

After you have his boots off and dry socks on you stand and straddle his lap, settling your knees on either side of his waist and taking a smaller towel to run through his hair.

You then comb your fingers through the wet strands and give it a slicked back style. He raises a brow when you smirk and drag your teeth over your bottom lip.

“What?” he asks.

“Looks really good.”

“Yeah angel? Even with the blood?”

“Somehow it makes it even hotter…but I’m still so upset you’re hurt.”

“I’m ok.”

“You keep saying that.”

“But I am darlin.’ Honestly, couldn’t be better at the moment.”

His hands slide along your thighs and then settle on your waist. He pulls you closer and runs his nose along the column of you neck to breathe you in.

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp. “I have to patch you up first.”

“Mm hm,” he murmurs as his lips press to your skin and his fingers dance higher.

You flatten your palms on his chest and give him a light shove, giggling when he looks at you with pouty lips.

After a soft kiss you get the first aid kit and start to clean the cut above his eye and the one on his lip. When you press the antiseptic to the wound he winces, leaving his eyes closed as you continue to carefully wipe each spot.

You inspect every area of his face, especially focusing on the skin beneath his beard, lovingly caressing the gray spots as you go. He relaxes into your touch and you let your fingers gently trace his features.

“All clean,” you whisper.

You hand him the small ice pack you got from the freezer. “Hold this on your cheek.”

“But my hands are busy,” he sighs.

His hands graze the skin beneath your shirt, calloused thumbs caressing the softness before they inch higher.

“You only need one hand for this,” you lightly chide.

His eyes pop open and he gives you a stern look. “Fine.”

You bat your lashes at him and wait until he has the ice pack pressed to his cheek.

“Just until I finish up.”

You put medicine on the cut above his eye and one butterfly stitch then clean up the dried blood on his knuckles.

“You must have gotten a pretty good punch in.”

You can see his muscles tense when you press the pad to his bruised knuckles.

“You bet I did angel,” he boasts. “And that’d be plural…punches.”

When you meet his eyes he winks again and throws you a smug grin.

You kiss it right off his lips then smudge some medicine on his knuckles. He immediately puts down the ice pack and places his hands back on your body.

“That could probably stay on a bit longer,” you tsk.

“Later,” he murmurs.

Ink walks along the back of the couch and sits herself down right behind Joel. She blinks at you several times then starts to swat at the curls of hair at the back of his neck.

“She likes them almost as much as I do,” you tease.

“She’s just wantin’ attention,” he grumbles. “Gets that from you too.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare and then give him one more once over.

“Think I did a pretty good job,” you state.

“I feel brand new,” he says as he drags you closer and smooths his hands along the curve of your back.

When your lips meet you’re mindful of his cut but he doesn’t seem to care at all and dances one hand higher until he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you harder.

He moans into your mouth and tugs at the hem of your shirt. Your hands delve into his damp hair and then slide down to his shoulders. His bare skin is warm and when you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers you ease away and battle with the reminder of what happened, your eyes glassy.

His large hand cradles your cheek and he smooths his nose along your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear.

“Darlin’,” he coos. “It’s all right. I’m fine…let me prove it to you.”  

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

[roamingleaf]

"Dormant Demons"

Tw: Somno, St@lking, R@pe, Breeding, Freeuse

The first time I broke into your room, it was calculated. After what seemed like an eternity in weeks of observing, nay, studying that marvelous little frame. Where you went, what you eat, who you're with, right down to when you went to sleep. If I'm to be honest I hated when you went out with your male friends. But, I bided my time all the same. Tonight, I intended on making use of my research notes; once the clock struck half past 1 am your slender, well-tuned, canvas was already tightly tucked in with a one way ticket to Dreamland.

As if your windows wished to betray you, they quietly glided themselves up and opened with but a mere coaxing of my fingers. Slinking softly between that once barricaded gateway my feet all but tip-toed hurriedly to the edge of your bed for a closer inspection of my sleeping beauty. From your awaiting bedside my hands couldn't contain their excitement any longer. Both of them raced to the weighted, warm, blanket that kept my trophy safely wrapped up from the chilly autumn wind that was now rushing through the opened window. Once two handfuls of that blanket had been acquired, down it would be peeled. Slowly though, for this unwrapping must be done delicately, vigilantly, and above all else, carefully.

Not enough to disturb that peaceful rest, no, that would be silly. In no time at all that hand quilted, heavy blanket found itself resting at the door steps of your supple, voluptuous hips for I had grown tired of the long tease. Weeks, hours, and seconds of planning were all about to be rewarded. I needed you; Like a human needed breath, you were the air about to fill my lungs. As all these thoughts swirled in my mind, my instincts took charge and guided me between the weighted shroud of your bed to lay right behind you. It was all so overwhelming at first, the smell of your nightly shampoo, the soft mixtures of the weighted fabric cover, the aroma from your nightly ritual of creams and lotions. What predator in the stalking savanna would have been able to resist this concoction of lust?

If only you could understand how amazing it felt as my arms finally got the chance they pined for over this agonizing week. Finally, they would feel the royal silken embrace of your flawless figurine pressed against them as they calmly crawled along the well curved hillside you hailed as hips. Though, I couldn't comprehend the lack of panties that careless canvas had forgotten. Such a naive, naughty, victim. This was only one of the plenty of reasons why I picked you from the crowd of all the other girls. You're just the way I like my trophy to be.

With each slithering step my fingers started to take around and down your snowfall soft navel you had unintentionally gotten me started. The further south my fingers slipped, the more your serene, hushed body pressed back further into me. Till I could finally feel it, your squeezable, curved, peach pressed against my tightening jeans. That need for you was swiftly evolving into an unhealthy obsession. There was this lingering, growing hunger that had awoken the moment I first laid eyes on you; now, with you lined up against my shaft I was going to feast upon this bunny like a rabid wolf. What truly intrigued me the most, was those babbling little whispers you eeked out in your dreams.

Did you know I was behind you baby? Did you know I was about to claim you as my own? Or, were you happy to finally be lost in rest after your finals? Had exhaustion taken control of you so much that you couldn't even register a monster in sheep's clothing? Either way, that cacophony of cozy cooing would be the final encouragement for my shaft to find itself slowly pushing inside your tight pussy. Once the entry to your supple, alluring, cove was penetrated my once wandering palms tightly grasped to your hips to hold that slumbering frame in place to receive a proper reshaping.

There was no telling how much time had been spent lost inside the clutching waves of your slippery lake, but, no sooner did your otherworldly frame start to stir from dreamland did your moans take center stage to drown out the creaks of the bed. Even with the firm grasp from one of my palms keeping those lips shut, nothing could bring absolute silence to that sirens call. The neighbors would know you belonged to.

I'm sure if I were in my right state of mind, the amount of guilt I would feel as I drunkenly listened to your muffled plea and cries would have made me sick to my stomach. However, whatever hex you had placed upon me only made me more feral the more you cried for it to end. This was your fault. Don't try and blame me for it now.

-🪶

[tired-teacher-blog]

Is it fair that I haven't written anything Shouto related in months– even though he's one of my absolute favorites? No, no it's not, so here is a little silly something to make up for it.

It's one of those chilly nights..

The falling snow is moving in rhyme with the playful wind outdoors, tapping on the giant glass of your living room window before succumbing downward to join the beautiful cottony carpet that's covering the roads outside.

You sigh contentedly and shift your eyes from the mesmerizing sight to focus on the heavenly one right before your nose.

_ "Isn't this amazing?" your whispered words pierce the quiet atmosphere surrounding you, but they don't seem to startle the man laying on top of your relaxed form.

_ "It is, I don't even want to move at all." and you can faintly sense the curve of his lips against your neck as he breathes the reply.

_ "We don't have to, we can sleep here if you want." your fingers move through his soft bicolor hair, brushing it away from his handsome face.

You bite down on your lip to stifle a giggle when you realize how impractical your suggestion is, because as big and comfortable as it is, this poor sofa was not made to contain your boyfriend's giant stature, though he doesn't seem to share your concern as he humms in agreement before nuzzling you deeper.

You gently caress his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his flexing muscles beneath your touch as he hugs you tighter.

His fair skin is concealed under a long sleeve cotton shirt, but you are aware -more than anyone else- of every single cut, burn and scar he has acquired over the years of being a hero, after all, you've always been the one treating his injuries after every single mission.

You kiss the top of his head affectionately, once, twice, thrice, and a couple more times because you simply cannot get enough of this man, your man.

He's big and heavy, almost knocking the air out of your lungs while trapping you beneath his weight, but you don't mind it at all, there is nowhere else you would rather be but right here with him, tucked away from everyone else.

It's a simple thought and a simpler wish, and the breathy laughter it has brought out of you is hard to miss.

_ "What's going on?" he props his chin against your chest and looks up at you with curious mismatched irises, though an adorable grin has already found its way to his lips as he anticipated your response.

_ "It's nothing, I'm just thinking how lucky I am to have you."

He is caught off guard by your words, and the wide blinky eyes staring back at you are proof of that.

He is cute, always has been to you, especially when as lost as he is right now, stirring you up to the point where you cannot help but cradle his cheeks and bring his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

_ "I love you, you know that?" he murmurs huskily before leaning back a bit to gaze into your eyes.

The warmth of his words is spreading throughout your body to leave a blissful tingle behind, and your fingertips are tracing his handsome features to linger over the burn scar surrounding his left eye.

You smile widely as you recall the first time you kissed him there, right on the mark reaching halfway down his cheek.

Back then, he was as surprised with your action as he is tonight with your random confession, but he didn't hate the feeling of your soft lips on his scarred skin one bit, in fact, it was the salve he didn't even know he needed.

_ "I love you too, Shouto."

[leviscolwill]

i know i'm annoying, and i deeply apologise for that. but you have no idea how happy it'd make me if you wrote for ferran. I KNOW, i am a mad woman, i am aware..

i would die for this prompt

dialogue 9 : "are you wearing chapstick?"

i love you

cherry flavoured conversations ★

pairing: childhood bsf!ferran x reader

note: my lovely zowa, this is my first time writing for ferran, it’s quite short but i hope you’ll still like it. i love u so very much xx

now playing cherry flavoured by the neighbourhood…

winter holidays at the torres’ family house were always fun. you got to spend two entire weeks with your best friend and both your families, and your only concern was whether you should go ice skating, sledging, or just spend the day by the fireplace watching movies.

on the other hand, this time of the year was the hardest for you to hide your ever-growing feelings for your best friend. it was becoming increasingly harder to pretend you didn't feel anything past friendship while he was by your side pretty much 24/7.

it was one of those chilly nights, and you were having dinner with your families. ferran immediately got up when arantxa asked you to bring dessert to the table. his gentleman manners taking over, even though you clearly didn't need any help with the task.

ferran noticed you were significantly quieter than usual during dinner, lost in your own thoughts. your feelings were eating you alive, his smile, the sparkle in his eyes whenever he was talking to you only made your thoughts grow louder, and the irrevocable need to grab his shoulders and scream ‘can’t you see how much you mean to me?’ was only getting stronger.

his hand met yours before you could grab the plate, your eyes instinctively met his, filled with worry. ���what did i do wrong y/n?”

ferran’s eyes didn't leave yours for a second, desperately searching for an answer in them. his hand was still on yours, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin.

“you didn't do anything wrong, i’m just feeling down tonight. please don’t worry fer.” from the look he gave you, you could tell he knew there was something else going on, but he didn't add a word.

when his eyes finally left yours, you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, and noticed his eyes focused somewhere else; the ceiling.

ferran’s gaze fell back on you. he let go of your hand to point at where he was staring, right above the two of you.

mistletoe. you could tell it had been taped to the ceiling not so long ago, and you already had an idea of who was behind this idea. and what a cruel idea that was, what if ferran just outwardly expressed his disgust at the mere thought of kissing you? you didn't know if you’d be able to hold back the tears if it happened.

his hand tilted your chin up to make your eyes meet once again. his face was dangerously close to yours, so close you could count every beauty mark, every freckle on the face you adored.

“we don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” his voice was soft, almost whisper-like. if you were to kiss, which ferran really wanted, he wished to share this moment with you and not with both your families eavesdropping on you like they always did around you.

unable to find the words to answer him, you stood on your tiptoes to close the gap between your lips. softly at first, afraid he would vanish into thin air like when you’d wake up from another vivid dream with him as the main character.

but none of that happened. ferran’s grip on your jaw only got tighter. yet his touch was still loving, just enough strength to show his yearning for you. when you finally pulled back from his enticing hold, ferran had a puzzled look on his face.

“are you wearing chapstick? it tastes like…” ferran licked his lips, trying to guess the flavour of your chapstick still lingering on his own lips.

he took the opportunity to kiss you again, lips meeting yours once again in a quick peck. “raspberry?”

you shake your head, faking a disappointed expression on your face. “cherry, close enough though.”

“can i get another cherry kiss before going back?” this unexpected chain of events almost made you forget what you were here for in the first place. you grabbed the plate, before kissing the corner of ferran's mouth. which brought a frown on his face, before remembering he’ll get other opportunities to get a better taste of your chapstick later.

when you both stepped back to the dining room, arantxa looked at you both with a knowing look before winking at you, not trying to hide her implication in the mysterious case of the mistletoe. while your parents were still in a deep conversation. unaware of the moment you just shared, the heat rushing on your face and ferran’s beet-red ears.

[laylarevengers]

dress. manjiro sano x fem! reader. series. angst. tomen —> bonten.

part two.

as you hop onto the backseat of Manjiro's motorcycle, you can't help but feel a sense of sadness and uncertainty looming over you. accepting his offer to ride tonight was a bittersweet decision, as you knew it might be the last time you would have the chance to do so. the recent announcement that tomen was disbanding had caught you off guard, and the shock of it all had left you with widened eyes and tears streaming down your cheeks in the chilly night breeze.

you couldn't help but think of all the friends you had lost along the way - shinichiro, emma, and izana - all gone without a trace. and yet, you were still here, by manjiro’s side, willing to stay and fight until the end. so why did he act like you were already buried in the dirt and rotting away? the thought left you with a sense of unease, wondering what the future had in store for you both.

mikey shifted his gaze from the floor to you and let out a soft hum. you kept your eyes fixed on the water, leaning on the railing with your arms crossed, clad in his gang jacket. your grip tightened around your arm as you asked him the question that had been gnawing at you, "where will you go?" it wasn't unexpected, he should have known that you would ask. you cared about his safety and well-being, so it was only natural that you would want to know where he was headed. manjiro remained silent for a while, but the heavy silence was too much to bear, and he finally relented, "i can't tell you."

you had the urge to strike him, to unleash your anger and vent about the sheer stupidity of it all. however, weariness and the chill in the air held you back. you were drained from the struggles of your own life and still grieving deeply for emma. as you glanced up at him, you noticed his exhaustion and the bruises from countless battles. despite your efforts, tears streamed down your face uncontrollably. mikey shook his head, pleading, "no, no, please. don’t cry, please."

“how can’t i? you’re leaving.”

“i’m not leaving you.”

as the tears stream down your face, you let out a chuckle. "you are leaving me, jiro," you say, your voice strained and soft. "i don't think i’ll still be your girl in whatever future you have in mind." his eyes avoid meeting yours as he lets out a sigh, his hands gently cupping your face. "you’ll always be my girl," he murmurs, "but it's for the better if we're apart."

“how can i live without you?”

“you can. you have to.”

“you have this complex thing where you think everyone around you dies and you know, you fucking know, i’d die for you, manjiro. i would and i am okay with that.”

he insists, "but, i am not okay with it." he gently kisses your forehead, and the night carries on with silence and small gestures that only worsen the situation. It it been twelve years since that incident occurred. in the eyes of the government, he was considered the worst man alive, but you saw him as the creator of all the beauty in this world. you never expected sanzu to appear at your workplace, being an accomplished doctor, pleading for your help with ran haitani, who foolishly got injured. it was sudden and foolish of you to agree, but it meant you would get to see him again.

not manjiro sano, bonten’s lead. you’d see jiro. that was more than enough for a motivation to get into the car of a man you’d once saw as a traitor to your love.

1/?

[biblical-chronicles]

Take a chance

_______________________________________________________

where a chance meeting while smoking behind the pub leads to summat more [18+]

_______________________________________________________

The back of the pub wasn’t glamorous by any means. It was a tight ginnel wedged between two old brick buildings, bins stacked up in one corner and a faint smell of stale beer lingering in the air. But it was quiet, private, and the perfect spot for a quick smoke when life felt like too much.

Your best mate worked here, pulling pints most nights, and she’d long since given you the green light to sneak out back whenever you fancied. It had become an odd sort of ritual—she’d cover for you, maybe check in once or twice if she wasn’t busy, and you’d puff away, keeping her company through the chaos of a Friday night shift.

Tonight was no different. With your feet propped up on an old crate and the soft glow of the pub’s kitchen lights spilling out onto the damp pavement, you took a drag of your joint, exhaling slowly into the chilly night air. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filtered through the door, muted enough to feel a world away.

You weren’t expecting anyone to bother you. Maybe your mate would pop her head out for a laugh or a moan about some rowdy customers. But no one else ever came back here—why would they? That’s why, when the back door creaked open behind you, you didn’t even look up at first.

“Forgot summat, have you?” you called over your shoulder, assuming it was your friend.

No answer came.

Frowning, you turned, half expecting to see her arms loaded with empty glasses or a mop in hand. Instead, standing in the doorway, looking distinctly unimpressed with his surroundings, was Noel Gallagher.

“Bloody hell!” you spluttered, nearly choking on the joint in your hand. You coughed violently, waving a hand in front of your face to clear the smoke. “Am I already this high, or are you actually in here now?”

He arched an eyebrow, shoving his hands in his coat pockets as he stepped further into the alley. “Depends. How much of that have you had?” His voice was casual, but the trademark smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You blinked at him, still half-convinced you’d imagined it. Noel Gallagher. Here. In the dingy back ginnel where you’d spent countless nights chatting rubbish with your mate over stolen smokes. It didn’t add up.

“What’re you doin’ here?” you asked finally, sitting up straighter on the crate.

“Was inside havin’ a pint,” he replied, glancing around the alley like he was sizing it up. “Place’s a bit loud for me liking, so I thought I’d nip out for some air.” He gestured to the door behind him. “And here you are, hogging the best spot, by the looks of it.”

You snorted, finally regaining your composure. “Yeah, well, you’ve got some audacity don't ya? Just wander in like you own the place.”

He chuckled at that, pulling a hand out of his pocket to gesture at the joint in your hand. “You gonna share love, or do I have to stand here and look tragic while you finish that off?”

You hesitated for a moment—Noel bloody Gallagher, asking to share your joint. Was this really happening? But his gaze was steady, and his smirk was both disarming and just shy of cocky. With a shrug, you handed it over.

“Be me guest,” you said, leaning back again and watching as he took it between his fingers like he’d done it a thousand times before.

He took a drag, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Not bad, this.”

“Cheers,” you replied, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “What, no rockstar stash of your own these days?”

“Too much hassle,” he said with a shrug. “This lot’ll do me fine.” He handed it back, leaning against the brick wall beside you.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, passing the joint back and forth, the cool air and quiet of the alley wrapping around you. It was surreal, but Noel had a way of making it feel oddly normal—like it was the most natural thing in the world to be sitting here with him, sharing smokes and trading lazy conversation about nothing in particular.

At one point, you caught him eyeing the crate you were sitting on. “What’s this, then? Your throne?”

You laughed, kicking out at the edge of the crate. “It’s got a great view of the bins, allows me to really control the situation.”

“Reckon you’ve hit the jackpot here,” he said dryly, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his eye as he looked at you. “Best seat in Manchester.”

“Don’t let the locals hear you say that, don't need me crate gentrified.” you shot back, grinning.

“Too late,” he replied, his voice low and teasing.

The joint soon burned down to its last embers, and Noel stubbed it out on the wall behind him before flicking the end into the nearest bin. Then, instead of heading back inside, he stepped over and sat himself down next to you on the crate, his knee brushing against yours.

“Not bad out here, actually,” he said, his tone almost thoughtful. “Better than the racket inside.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. It’s quieter. Good for deep thoughts and whatnot.”

“Right,” he said dryly, glancing around at the bins and cracked pavement. “Real inspirational, this.”

“It’s got charm,” you shot back, grinning.

“Charm,” he repeated, shaking his head but with a small smile tugging at his lips.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, the quiet of the alley settling around you like a blanket. It was surreal but oddly natural at the same time. Noel leant back next to you, close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him in the chilly night air.

The silence was companionable, stretching just long enough to feel right, until you glanced over at him—and then it hit you.

You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe the weed finally kicking in well enough, or the absurdity of the situation, but the moment you caught his eye, something about the whole thing struck you as hilarious. There he was—Noel bloody Gallagher, sitting next to you on a beat-up crate in a dingy pub ginnel, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. And he was looking at you with this faintly curious, vaguely amused expression, like he was waiting to see what you’d do next.

You tried to hold it together, you really did. But the harder you tried to keep a straight face, the funnier it all seemed, and before you knew it, a giggle slipped out.

“What’s that face for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, though his lips twitched like he was holding back a grin.

“Nothing,” you managed, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “It’s just… I dunno. You’re sittin’ here. I’m sittin’ here. This whole thing—” You broke off, a giggle bubbling up again.

He frowned mock-seriously, leaning closer. “Are you takin’ the piss outta me, love?”

“No!” you gasped, laughing harder now. “I swear, it’s not you. It’s—” You looked at him again, and something about the way he was squinting at you sent you over the edge.

Noel shook his head, though now he was laughing too, low and raspy, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against the wall. “What the hell’s so funny?”

“Everything!” you wheezed, clutching your side. “I mean, look at us! You’re Noel Gallagher! You should be in some swanky VIP lounge or, I dunno, an art gallery or summat. Not… not here!” You gestured wildly at the bins like they summed up the entire situation.

He glanced around the ginnel, then looked back at you with an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “Yeah, well,” he said, deadpan, “the bins’ve got a certain charm as you said, don’t they?”

That only made you laugh harder, tears lightly streaming down your face now as you tried to catch your breath. “Oh my God, stop! I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling as he reached over to steady you, his hand resting lightly on your arm. “You’re gonna give yourself a bloody hernia at this rate.”

You looked up at him, still giggling, and the sight of him laughing too—his grin crooked and his eyes crinkled at the corners—sent another wave of warmth through you. The high had hit both of you, full force now, and everything felt brighter, sillier, more alive.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just looking at each other through the haze of shared laughter. And then, as the giggles finally began to subside, the mood shifted.

His smile softened as he caught your gaze, the amusement still there but tempered by something quieter, something more intent. You felt your own breath hitch, the closeness between you suddenly palpable.

“Dunno what you’re laughin’ at,” he murmured, his voice low but warm. “You’re the one sittin’ here with me. If anything, you’re the strange one.”

“Maybe I am,” you whispered, your heart racing as his knee brushed lightly against yours.

You didn’t know who leaned in first—maybe it was both of you—but before you could overthink it, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t rushed or overly practiced; it was soft, tentative, like he was testing the waters.

And then you kissed him back, and all at once, the rest of the world fell away. Your hand found its way to his jacket, clutching lightly at the fabric as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. His fingers brushed against your arm, trailing down to your hand, warm and grounding even as your head spun.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, you couldn’t help but laugh again—softly this time, a little dazed.

Noel’s lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, his fingers brushing your cheek lightly. “What’s funny now?” he asked, his voice warm, teasing.

“Dunno,” you murmured, biting your lip as you looked at him. “Maybe it’s just… you.”

He arched an eyebrow, mock affronted. “Me? What’ve I done now?”

You shook your head, but your hands betrayed you as they found the collar of his denim jacket, tugging at it slightly. “Nothing,” you said, almost shyly, your eyes darting to the buttons. “I just… maybe this needs to come off.”

He chuckled, low and raspy, his grin widening. “Oh, does it now?”

Ignoring the heat rushing to your face, you reached for the top button, fumbling slightly as your coordination failed you. Your fingers seemed clumsy and slow, the high making everything feel just a little bit harder to navigate. The button slipped from your grasp once, then twice, until you let out a frustrated huff.

“Alright, hang on,” he said, clearly amused as he placed his hands over yours. “Let me save you from yourself before you start yankin’ the thing off.”

You shot him a playful glare, but he was already working the button loose, his fingers deft as he popped it open. “There, easy. It’s not rocket science, love.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, your face heating as he smirked at you. “It’s the weed. Everything’s slower.”

“Yeah, sure,” he teased, moving on to the next button. “Blame the weed. Can’t possibly be you bein’ useless.”

The smug look on his face was too much, and before he could get another quip in, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard, effectively cutting him off. His surprise melted almost instantly into something more intense, and his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with newfound fervor.

The jacket was forgotten for a moment as his fingers pressed into your sides, grounding you even as your head swam. When you finally came up for air, your foreheads resting together, you couldn’t help but grin.

“You were saying?” you asked, a little breathless, your voice laced with smug satisfaction.

He let out a quiet laugh, his thumb tracing circles against your hip. “I was sayin’,” he murmured, “that you’re a pain in the arse.”

“Yeah?” you shot back, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time but no less insistent. “Good thing you like me, then.”

“Lucky me,” he replied, his voice low and rough as his lips found yours again.

The kiss deepened, his hands settling at your waist, pulling you even closer as your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. But suddenly, an idea struck you, and with a jolt of confidence, you broke away and stood up.

Noel blinked at you, startled by the abruptness, his hand still lingering in the air where your waist had been. “What’re you—”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish. With a cheeky grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged him up to his feet. “C’mon,” you said, your voice laced with mischief as you started pulling him toward the back of the alley.

“Oi, where’re we goin’?” he asked, his tone half-curious, half-amused as he followed your lead.

“You’ll see,” you called back over your shoulder, your heart racing as you navigated past the bins and toward the side door that led to the staff room. You shoved it open, the hinges creaking loudly, and dragged him inside.

The room was as unremarkable as you expected—an old couch shoved against one wall, a table piled with takeaway menus and mismatched mugs, and a couple of lockers in the corner. But it didn’t matter. Right now, it was perfect.

You turned to face him, arms crossed over your chest and a smirk playing on your lips. “Well?” you asked, gesturing around you. “Not bad, right?”

Noel looked around the room, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched. “You brought me to a bloody staff room?”

“Privacy,” you shot back, stepping closer and poking him lightly in the chest. “And I’ll have you know, it’s cozy. Functional.”

“Right,” he said, smirking now as he let you back him up against the old couch. “And you’re dead proud of yourself, aren’t ya?”

“Absolutely,” you said, grinning as you leaned in closer, your hands finding his collar again. “Aren’t you lucky I’ve got good ideas?”

“Lucky’s one word for it,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your hips as he pulled you against him.

The teasing look in his eyes only spurred you on, and you kissed him again, harder this time, all traces of hesitation gone.

Noel sank back onto the couch, his hands firmly on your hips as you followed him down, settling into his lap. His denim jacket was long discarded, and now it was just him and the warmth of his hands, pulling you closer, guiding you with a steady confidence that made your breath hitch.

You straddled him, your knees pressing into the worn fabric of the couch on either side of his legs. The intimacy of the position made your heart pound, the rough texture of his jeans against your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“Comfortable, are ya?” he teased, his voice a low rasp, his hands roaming up your sides.

“Shut up,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips captured yours. You could feel him smirking against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist as you began to shift your weight, testing the friction.

The first deliberate movement drew a groan from him, quiet but unmistakable, and the sound sent a thrill through you. His thigh beneath you was firm, and the pressure as you moved against him was intoxicating. You gasped softly, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as you rocked your hips, finding a rhythm.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he broke the kiss to look at you. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, steadying you, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re gonna kill me, y’know that?”

You laughed breathlessly, a little high, a little giddy, and leaned in to press another kiss to his jaw, nipping lightly at his stubble. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you whispered, your voice teasing as you moved against him again, slower this time, drawing out the sensation.

His grip on you tightened, his breath hitching as his head fell back against the couch. “Dramatic, my arse,” he muttered, his voice strained, though his hands guided your movements, urging you on.

You couldn’t stop the soft sounds escaping your lips, the combination of his warmth and the steady friction building into something dizzying. The way his eyes kept flicking to your face, his lips slightly parted, only fueled your confidence.

The warmth of him beneath you was overwhelming, the texture of his denim against your thighs and the firm press of his hands on your body sending waves of heat through you. Every touch, every little shift of movement seemed magnified, the weed heightening every sensation until it felt like electricity sparking under your skin.

His fingers, deft before, now trembled slightly as they found the hem of your shirt, tugging it up inch by inch. You raised your arms, letting him peel it off, the fabric brushing your skin in a way that made you shiver. He let out a low laugh, his hands immediately returning to your waist, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

Your cheeks flushed, the compliment sinking deep, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on it. Instead, your hands went to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling slightly as the weed made your fingers slower, clumsier once again.

“Alright, hold still,” you muttered, determined as you worked your way down, but the third button refused to budge. You let out an exasperated laugh, your forehead falling against his shoulder. “Why the hell are buttons even a thing?”

He laughed, the sound low and gravelly, vibrating through his chest. “Need some help there, love?” he teased, his hands sliding to the waistband of your jeans, his fingers toying with the button there instead.

“I’ve got this,” you insisted, though you couldn’t stop your giggles as the stubborn button continued to thwart you. “Okay, maybe I don’t.”

“Here, let me,” he said, smirking as his hands moved to yours, his fingers brushing against yours as he worked at the fabric. The contact made you shiver, and you were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his hands on you, warm and steady despite his own high.

After a moment, the button finally gave, and you both let out triumphant laughs, though yours quickly turned into a sharp intake of breath as his hands slid down, brushing over the curve of your hips.

“See?” he said, his voice a low murmur, “Easy.”

“Shut up,” you replied, grinning as you pushed his shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders. The material fell to the couch, forgotten as you leaned in to kiss him again, harder this time, your hands roaming over his chest, reveling in the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.

His hands found the small of your back, pulling you closer as your hips shifted, the last barriers of clothing suddenly feeling like too much. His lips moved against yours with a newfound urgency, the taste of him mingling with a faint remainder of the smoke.

“Hang on,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless as he reached for the waistband of your jeans again. “These need to go.”

You nodded, too caught up in the moment to tease him back, though the two of you quickly descended into laughter again as your coordination—or lack thereof—made the task comically difficult.

“Stop wriggling,” he said, his voice thick with amusement as you shifted in his lap, making it harder for him to work the denim off.

“You’re the one struggling!” you shot back, laughing so hard your shoulders shook as he finally managed to peel the fabric down.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, tossing your jeans aside before leaning back to look at you, his eyes dark and full of something that made your stomach flip. “Much better.”

"Let's make it even then,” you murmured, as a low chuckle escaped him as he watched you work on his underwear. His eyes were dark, filled with something intense that made your heart skip, a mix of desire and something deeper that left your stomach fluttering.

Before you could think too much about it, the moment carried you both forward. You shifted, moving back onto his lap with a sudden urgency, and his hands guided you gently, helping you in the most tender of ways.

Your breath caught as you sank down on him, the connection between you immediate, both of you letting out a soft, breathless sound, a mix of relief and something more intimate.

For a moment, you both just stayed there, breathing together, eyes locked, no words needed. The connection felt deeper than anything you’d shared before, a quiet understanding passing between you both, a reassurance that this was real, this was perhaps something more than just the physical.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his hands caressing your back, urging you closer.

You leaned in, your forehead resting against his as your lips brushed his softly. “and so are you” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest as you started to slowly move, his hands still gently guiding you.

The pleasure quickly took over you, and the feeling of being so close to him made everything else fade into the background. His touch, his presence, everything about this moment felt heightened - the weed making it overwhelming in the best way possible.

The way he responded to you, the soft sounds escaping him, it was all too much. His fingers were digging into your sides as you moved in synch, your hips finding a steady rhythm.

You could feel yourself getting closer with each move, Noel's thrusts have also become more sloppy and erratic after a while, a quiet "I'm close" escaping his lips.

You simply nodded, unable to form a coherent response, your thoughts swirling with how well he filled you up and how good he looked while doing it. Your attention was drawn to the glistening sheen of sweat on his face, the way his brows furrowed slightly, and the look in his half-lidded eyes—brimming with pleasure—as he looked at you.

It wasn't long before you both reached the edge, a shared wave of sensation crashing over you as his body tensed beneath you, his grip tightening as he whispered your name in a breathless gasp. The sound of it, so raw and genuine, sent a shiver through you, and the warmth between you both lingered as you clung to each other, your own release flooding over you in a wave of pleasure.

As the moment passed, you both remained tangled together, breathing heavily, the room spinning softly in the afterglow. You collapsed gently into his arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the slowly steadying beat of his heart beneath your ear.

As the moment lingered between you, a wave of emotion washed over you, and you found yourself looking at him with more than just desire in your eyes. You felt something deeper, something that you couldn’t ignore. His hand rested gently on your cheek, and you found the courage to speak up.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, your voice quiet but steady. “Do you think... we could keep in touch? Like, properly?”

Noel pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing in surprise. He studied you for a moment, his lips curling into a small, amused grin, as if he thought you were just caught up in the heat of the moment. “Oh, love, you’re not serious, are you?” His voice had that teasing tone, but his eyes were filled with an uncertainty that was uncharacteristic of him.

But you could see past the teasing. You could feel that he wasn’t sure if this was just a fleeting impulse, something that might pass with time. But for you, this wasn’t some impulsive decision. You leaned in closer, your voice softer now, but firm in its sincerity.

“No, Noel,” you said, your fingers brushing against his chest. “I’m serious. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I feel... a real connection with you. And I just—” You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts, but your heart was clear in your words. “I don’t want to let this go, just like that. I don’t want it to be something that fades after tonight.”

Noel’s expression shifted, the playful edge gone as he absorbed your words. For a moment, there was a silence between you both, as if he was processing what you’d just said. His usual confident, carefree demeanor was replaced with something a little more vulnerable as he looked at you.

“Right,” he said softly, his voice lower now, tinged with something deeper. “I wasn’t expecting that.” He paused, taking a breath, before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “But, I suppose... I’m not opposed to it.”

His hands found their way back to your waist, pulling you closer again. “Never met anyone quite like you,” he said with a soft chuckle, but the sincerity behind it was unmistakable.

You smiled, feeling that flutter in your chest again as the connection between you both grew even stronger, the unspoken bond deepening in the quiet moments that followed.

“Neither have I"

_______________________________________________________

Another request down (or two, since one anon asked for a cheeky chance meeting and the other for a cheeky moment after a bit of a smoke, so I just put 'em together).

Apologies for the delay, I was watchin' the derby, which was an absolute waste of me fuckin' time. City lost in the end, Pep needs to get his head in the game, honestly. What the hell happened in that second half?

Regardless hope you lovely lot enjoy it xx

[skipper19]

(A bit of self comfort, because my body feels 100× heavier, and I've been puking since 3 am. this morning. And now, even after the puking era is over, my chest feels like there is a huge hole in it every time I breathe or laugh.)

Imagine this..

Dabi sighs as he fishes the keys out of his back pocket. "Domestic shit.." He scoffs into the chilly night air. Jingling of keys and a click of the front door unlocking interrupted the peacful atmosphere of the apartment complex hallway. Dabi would never admit it, not to you or anyone else, but he was worried about you.

His calls and texts had gone unanswered all day. That was very unlike you. Thanks to your at home job (and your lack of a social life), Dabi never had to think about if you were truly busy or not. Plus, most of the time, you informed him if you were going out for any reason at all. He never told you to do this, and he even made it clear that you didn't have to tell him shit, but you reassured him that you wanted to.

That was one thing Dabi loved about you. You were his loyal girl. He trusted you not to break his charred heart. If anything, he knew he would eventually have to break yours.

Dabi quietly stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind him. He paused and listened for any indication of another person in the abode, but he couldn't hear nor see a thing. All the lights were off, and it was uncomfortably cold. Dabi felt a shiver run up his spine. This was so unlike you.

His normally warm and inviting baby.

Dabi didn't dare call out into the seemingly empty home, just in case. The further Dabi ventured into the apartment, the more he began hearing noises. Right outside your bedroom, Dabi could hear wheezing and shaky exhales. With the worst thought plaguing his mind, Dabi entered the bedroom. Only, he didn't find what he was expecting.

Thank God.

Dabis eyes widened the slightest at the sight before him. You were huddled under your blankets, a trashcan sat idly next to the bed, as you wheezed to breathe in your sleep. You looked pale, and your nose and lips were light pink. Dabi immediately walked to your heater and turned it on high. He didn't care for the electricity bills.

When he approached your bedside, he was hesitant in waking you up. You looked awful.

Dabi gently (surprisingly) laid his hand on your arm and softly rubbed his thumb in circles on your clothed skin. "Baby doll, wake up." He spoke quietly. Your eyebrows scrunched together, and your lips formed a cute pout. Dabi crouched, so he was face to face with you. "Wake up, baby." He spoke a little louder. Your eyes finally opened and fell to the ocean blues in front of you.

"Touya?" You mumbled. Dabi nearly melted at the use of his real name. Your weak and whiney voice turned him soft, yet he would never admit it. "Yeah, it's me. Why didn't you answer your phone? I've been trying to contact you all day. Had me thinking you were dead or some shit.." His words made you glance to your phone. "I've been sleeping all day.. I don't feel good." You whispered. Dabi sighed. "I can see that much." He retorted.

A sudden whine left your lips as you curled in on yourself. "I-I don't feel good." Tears welded in your eyes as you clamped your eyes shut. Dabi moved the trashcan closer to you, and sure enough, you leaned over the side of the bed and puked your guts out. Dabi stood up and looked away as he held your hair from your face. He wasn't good at emotional support, but he knew that seeing you like this twisted his gut almost painfully.

Once you were finished, Dabi soothingly rubbed your back before bringing the trashcan to the bathtub and washing it out. He didn't think there was any point and getting you to brush your teeth, considering this definitely wouldn't be the last time you threw up tonight. Dabi came back into your bedroom and placed the trashcan can by your bedside once again. He then cradled your chin in his hand and used a wet rag to wipe your mouth and chin. He threw the dirty cloth in the hamper nearby.

"Take a deep breath, baby, I know." He softly said as you clutched your stomach with one hand and wiped the tears away with the other. "I don't like puking.." You cried. "I'm pretty sure no one does," He teased. "But hey, it's over for now. Take a deep breath and try to go back to sleep." He said as he placed his palm on your forhead. Yep, you had a fever.

Tears faded and soon crying decreased, letting Dabi know you would fall asleep soon. He stood up, only for a weak tug on his coat sleeve to stop him from moving. "Please don't go.." You pleaded. Dabi leaned down and kissed your forhead. "I'm not going anywhere, baby doll, I'm just going to go make you some soup." He reassured. You hesitatantly let go of his jacket and retracted your arm back under the covers. Dabi took this opportunity to retreat to the kitchen.

He sighed and took off his jacket before hanging it on a chair nearby. He didn't know how to cook shit.

-----------------------------------------------------♤

About two hours go by, and Dabi finally has some resemblance of "soup" sitting in a pot on your stove. He pinched the ridge of his nose. A headache was quickly forming behind his eyes, which reminded him, you need some medication..

Dabi entered your bedroom with a bowl of soup, water, and two pills ready. He set the supplies down on the bedside table, where he noticed that your phone was lighting up with messages. He glanced at your sleeping form (now facing the opposite direction) and grabbed your phone. Dabi always teased you about what an introvert you are, "And everyone says I'm the loner," he would say, so, yes, these repetitive messages were odd. Dabi entered the phones password and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Must be her editor.." Dabi mumbled as he pressed on the text bubble. The action sent him straight to the chat room with, technically, your boss. Dabis eyebrows furrowed in irritation as he scrolled through the many unread messages. Constant pestering about your books deadline and your absence in responding to him. The bastard went as far as to try guilt, tripping you into writing more on your book, despite your message yesterday that you didn't feel too well. Your last message to the guy, and enough that he should have left you alone.

Dabi sent a quick message to the douchbag and smirked as the guy began blowing up the device once again. Dabi only silenced the notification sound in response.

He then cut off your phone before tossing it back on the wooden desk. He sat himself on the bed next to your huddled form and gently rocked your shoulder. He smirked when you curled closer to yourself and shivered. "I've got some medicine and food for you, but you have to sit up." You grumbled, yet you slowly complied. Though Dabi did have to help you move thanks to your limbs, feeling the weight of elephants sitting atop them.

You were sitting against your bed frame with the blankets wrapped around your shoulder, lidded eyes, and pouting lips. You looked adorable.

"You're going to eat some of this soup, and then you can take these pills." Dabi said as he brought the bowl of food to his lap. Dabi didn't acknowledge your sniffle nor your hiccup, as he brought the spoon up to his lips and blew on the substance. After he was sure it wouldn't burn your tongue, he brought the spoon to your lips. You weakly opened your mouth and allowed him to feed you.

He noticed that you resisted the urge to gag. "My cooking really that bad?" He joked. You lightly smiled and shook your head. "No.. I just really don't want to eat anything.. I've lost my appetite for days because of this stupid stomach bug.." You admitted. Dabi hummed but didn't say a word.

He continued to feed you until you physically couldn't eat anymore. Dabi took the bowl to the kitchen and placed it in your sink before returning by your bedside. He helped you take the pills before laying you back down to rest some more. He kept you facing him this time, in case the trashcan was in need of use. His hand unconsciously rubbed soft circles into your arm.

"You probably shouldn't stay.. I don't want you getting sick, Touya.." You mumbled sleepily. The effect of bile running up your throat all day was obvious on your voice. Dabi only chuckled and shook his head before pushing some hair from your face. "Nah.. I've got no place better to be than right here taking care of my baby."

[kathlare]

i love you, i'm sorry

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set against the enchanting backdrop of Paris during the holidays, Amelie embraces fleeting moments of joy with Rodrigo, her steady and kind companion.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: kinda mature content

full masterlist // request over here!

December 20th, 2022 - Paris, France

The Parisian streets glistened with the soft glow of fairy lights, the city dressed up in its winter best. Amelie wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as she strolled hand-in-hand with Rodrigo along the Seine. The crisp December air was filled with the scent of roasted chestnuts and the distant hum of street performers. Paris, the city of love, had always been magical, but tonight, it felt even more so.

Rodrigo glanced at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. —Cold?— he asked, his voice low and warm.

Amelie shook her head, returning his smile. —Not when you’re holding my hand,— she teased, earning a laugh from him.

They had spent the past few days exploring the city—museums, quaint cafés, late-night walks by the Eiffel Tower. For the first time in a long while, Amelie felt like she was breathing again. She wasn’t consumed by the weight of the past or the questions that had lingered in the back of her mind. She was just... here. And it felt good.

As they turned a corner, the warm glow of a small bistro caught Amelie’s eye. They’d been wandering aimlessly, their plans intentionally loose to savor the spontaneity of it all.

—Hungry?— Rodrigo asked, following her gaze.

—Starving,— she replied with a grin.

The bistro was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a warm hug on a chilly night. They found a corner table by the window, the flicker of candlelight adding a soft glow to their faces. Rodrigo ordered a bottle of wine, and as the waiter poured their glasses, Amelie leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the moment settle over her.

Rodrigo watched her, his gaze unwavering. —You’re happy,— he said, almost like a statement rather than a question.

Amelie tilted her head, meeting his eyes. —I am,— she admitted, surprised by how easily the words came. —Paris has that effect, doesn’t it?—

He smiled, but there was something deeper in his expression, something that made her chest tighten. He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. —It’s not just Paris,— he said softly. —It’s you. Being with you makes me happy.—

Amelie felt her breath catch. She hadn’t expected this—not tonight, not so soon. Rodrigo’s eyes searched hers, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

—I love you, Amelie.—

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and light all at once. Amelie blinked, her heart racing. She hadn’t been prepared for this, not yet. They hadn’t been together long—barely over a month—and while she cared for Rodrigo, love? That was a different kind of weight. A different kind of truth.

But the way he looked at her, so open and vulnerable, made her feel like she couldn’t let him down. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and understanding, and he deserved to hear those words back. Didn’t he?

She forced a smile, her voice soft as she whispered back, —I love you too.—

The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t quite belong there. But Rodrigo’s face lit up, and for a moment, she convinced herself it was enough. She could grow into those words. She could try.

After dinner, they returned to their hotel, the night quiet except for the occasional hum of a car passing by. Their suite overlooked the city, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance. Amelie stood by the window, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the view.

Rodrigo came up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist as he pulled her back against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice a low murmur in her ear. —Beautiful, isn’t it?—

Amelie nodded, her gaze fixed on the glittering tower in the distance. —It really is.—

But her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment at dinner over and over again. She tried to shake the unease creeping into her chest, convincing herself that this was what she wanted. Rodrigo was good for her—kind, steady, everything she hadn’t had in a long time.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his lips warm against her skin. —You’re quiet,— he said softly. —What’s on your mind?—

She turned to face him, forcing a smile as she looked up into his eyes. —Just taking it all in,— she said.

Rodrigo studied her for a moment, his hands resting on her hips. —I still can’t believe I get to be here with you. With everything going on in our lives...— He trailed off, his gaze softening. —You make everything else fade away.—

Amelie reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. —You have a way with words, you know that?—

He chuckled, his hands tightening their grip on her waist. —It’s just how I feel.—

Their lips met, and for a moment, Amelie let herself get lost in the kiss. Rodrigo’s touch was gentle yet insistent, his hands moving to cradle her face as he deepened the kiss. She responded automatically, her body moving closer to his as the world outside their suite disappeared.

When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. —Stay here with me tonight,— he whispered.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded before she could think too much about it. —Okay.—

Rodrigo took her hand, leading her toward the bed. The room was dimly lit, the golden light from the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the walls. Amelie hesitated for a fraction of a second, the weight of the moment pressing against her chest. But then Rodrigo’s hands were on her again, his touch grounding her, and she let herself fall into the moment.

They moved together slowly, tentatively, as if they were learning each other for the first time. Rodrigo was gentle, his focus entirely on her, and Amelie tried to let herself sink into the moment, to push away the thoughts lingering in the back of her mind.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, Rodrigo’s arm draped over her waist as he pressed lazy kisses to her shoulder. Amelie stared at the ceiling, her body still, her mind racing. She wanted to feel happy, to feel the kind of love that Rodrigo clearly felt for her. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was missing.

She turned her head to look at him, his face relaxed and content as he drifted toward sleep. He looked so peaceful, so certain of his feelings for her. And in that moment, Amelie made a silent promise to herself: she would try. She would try to move on, to leave the past where it belonged. Rodrigo deserved that, and maybe she did too.

But as she closed her eyes and tried to follow him into sleep, her mind betrayed her, conjuring an image of someone else—a pair of blue-green eyes and a crooked smile that had once been her whole world. She pushed the thought away, burying it deep as she pressed herself closer to Rodrigo.

It would get easier, she told herself. It had to.

-------------

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ameliedayman: je pense que vous souffrez d'un manque de vitamine moi

View all 991 comments

fanaticforyou23: Amelie in Paris with Rodrigo? Girl’s living a movie. 🎥✨ → ameliefanatic99: @fanaticforyou23 No fr, she’s the main character. Paris just hits different with her vibes. 💅

rodrigoriquelme: Cada día contigo es un sueño hecho realidad, mi amor. ❤️🌹 → ameliedayman: @rodrigoriquelme París contigo lo es todo, te amo. 🫶✨

hatersalert99: Another trip with Rodrigo? Can she chill for five minutes? 🙄

landoxfan88: Winter break in Paris? Lando must be shaking. 🤭 → ameliefan_queen77: @landoxfan88 Bro, Lando is in the past. Focus on the present. 😂

parisgirlboss21: She really said, "I’m gonna make Paris look better." The power. 😩🔥

rodrigolover24: Amelie doesn’t deserve Rodrigo. He’s too good for this "pop star" stuff. 🙄 → ameliequeen_77: @rodrigolover24 They’re literally thriving, stay bitter tho. 😂

victoriadayman: Mi niña, disfruten mucho su tiempo juntos. ❤️ ¡Cuídense del frío! → ameliedayman: @victoriadayman Gracias, mamá. Siempre te extraño. 🥰✨

wanderlustbaby29: STOP, her Paris fits are giving chic af. I’m crying. 😭🖤

haterenergy22: Another perfect trip. Do we ever see her actually work? 🥴 → amelie_stan69: @haterenergy22 Imagine hating from your couch while she’s thriving in Paris. Couldn’t be me. 💅

bestie_vibes99: The way she makes Paris look like a fairytale... I need her life for 5 minutes. 😩🌹