#Strong Silent Type Press

[uwmspeccoll]

It’s Fine Press Friday!

Stan Honda is a notable New York-based Asian American photojournalist who has worked for several publications, especially Agence France-Presse. In 2011, he collaborated with Minnesota printmaker and book artist Fred Hagstrom to produce this artists book, When I First Arrived in Baghdad, from Hagstrom’s Strong Silent Type Press in a limited edition of 35 copies signed by the artist/printer. Hagstrom silkscreened Honda’s images and reflections from his assignments in Iraq, and bound them between printed metal covers using a wire-edge binding. The font is Futura. Fred Hagstrom writes:

I first contacted Stan Honda . . . in the days after September 11th. He took some of the most moving photographs of that day, including some of business people shrouded in dust and trying to get home after the collapse of the towers. These have become some of the most iconic images of that day. I was struck by the human qualities in his photos and invited him to speak at my school. We stayed in touch, and I have seen that same quality in much of his later work, including his photos from the gulf after Katrina, and from two trips to Iraq. He seems to always have a sense for bringing out the human part of these stories. For this book, I asked him to give me a selection of his Iraq photos and to respond to a brief sort of interview for me to generate the text. I then printed the photos in silk-screen, pairing them with his words. Together they do the best of journalism: a human perspective on a complicated moment in history.

View other posts of books by Fred Hagstrom.

View more Fine Press Friday posts.

[roturo]

`· . ౨ৎ OTAKU HOT GIRL !

౨ৎ summary: “I like a tall woman with a nice big ass, haha.” Shocked faces turned to the pink-haired boy, not expecting such blunt honesty. “Just sayin’.”

Out of sheer curiosity, Todo leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Got an example?”

WARNINGS: smut, male masturbation, lewd language and thoughts, overstimulation, sub-ish!yuji itadori, semi-public, use of pet names (puppy & ma'am) aged-up characters, whimpering, obsessed!yuji itadori, reader is mentioned like a person with big ass and tall, and lmk if i missed smth!

౨ৎ a/n: guess who's back baby! i listened to megan's new song and couldn't resist writing for my golden boy after hearing his voice omfg... 🫠i'm still a lil rusty and this might be short (1.4k words) but owmawgawd, this got meee

“I like a tall woman with a nice big ass, haha.” Shocked faces turned to the pink-haired boy, not expecting such blunt honesty. “Just sayin’.”

Out of sheer curiosity, Todo leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “Got an example?” The room filled with mixed reactions, some intrigued and others apprehensive. They were already tired of his daily talk about Jennifer Lawrence. Who could he possibly like more than her?

The boy smirked, leaning back casually. “Like the new grade one sorcerer from Kyoto, [Y/N] [L/N]...”

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Everyone knew about you, the formidable new sorcerer who had quickly risen through the ranks. But hearing that someone admired you in that way was a revelation.

He flashed back to the first time he met you. The memory was vivid. It was during a joint training session between the Tokyo and Kyoto schools. You had walked in with an air of confidence that immediately caught his attention. Tall, strong, and undeniably sexy, you had an aura that made it impossible for him to look away.

From the moment you started sparring, he was entranced. Every move you made was precise, powerful, and graceful. He could barely focus on his own training, his eyes constantly drifting towards you. When you finally spoke to him, your voice was low and sultry, asking for a sparring match. He was so flustered that all he could manage was a shaky “yes ma’am,” despite you being the same age.

The sparring match was intense, the air thick with tension. He gave it his all, but you were relentless. Each of your strikes was met with awe and admiration. By the end, he was exhausted and utterly defeated, but he didn’t mind. He was too impressed by your skill and the way your body moved.

After that day, you became a frequent topic of his thoughts. He admired not just your beauty, but your fierce dedication and prowess as a sorcerer. Every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how captivated he was by you. His fantasies about you became more vivid, more intense, fueled by the memory of your close combat and the way your body pressed against his.

“So yeah,” he continued, snapping back to the present. “That’s my type.”

The room fell silent, the other boys processing his words. Some were still shocked, others nodded in understanding like Panda and Todo. It was clear that his admiration for you went beyond mere physical attraction. It was rooted in genuine respect and a desire that bordered on obsession.

You and he had been talking for a few months now, and his clear attraction to you only grew stronger with each passing day. Your casual conversations and shared laughter were becoming the highlight of his days. Sometimes, during joint training sessions between the two schools, he found it increasingly difficult to focus. His eyes would wander towards you, watching the way your body moved with precision and strength. The mere sight of you was enough to send a surge of desire through him, making it impossible to concentrate. On more than one occasion, he had to leave the training area, his cheeks flushed and a raging erection straining against his pants. The frustration was palpable, but he couldn’t help it. You had a hold on him that was both thrilling and torturous.

He had to leave training again just to find some privacy in the restroom, where he urgently pleasured himself through his pants, softly moaning your name. The need had become insatiable, every thought consumed by the image of you—your intoxicating smile, the curve of your hips, and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders.

In the quiet sanctuary of the restroom, he leaned against the cool tiles, his breath hitching with each stroke. With trembling hands, he hastily undid his pants, revealing his throbbing cock already slick with anticipation. His mind replayed every encounter with you, from the shared glances to the moments when your eyes held a tantalizing promise.

Despite the overwhelming sensation after coming once, he couldn't resist the need to relieve himself. His hand moved almost mechanically over his throbbing cock, slick with his own essence. The thought of your touch, your fingers wrapped around him instead of his own, consumed him. He imagined how much better it would feel, how your soft, skilled hands would bring him to the brink and beyond.

As his hand wrapped around his pulsating shaft, he couldn't suppress a low groan. The touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through him. Starting slow, he savored every sensation, but the ache only intensified. Each stroke brought him closer to the edge, his fantasies blending seamlessly with reality in a haze of desire.

Soft, needy moans escaped his lips, mingling with the sound of his rapid breaths. He imagined your touch—delicate yet commanding, expertly teasing him to the brink. His cock twitched at the thought, pre-cum slickening his fingers as he quickened his pace.

Lost in the moment, he couldn't help but fantasize about how your lips would feel against his skin, your hands exploring every inch of him with a hunger that matched his own. The idea of you taking control, guiding him with a firm touch, made him shudder with anticipation.

His movements grew more urgent, chasing that elusive release. He could almost feel you there with him, your presence palpable in the confined space. With a guttural moan, he finally spilled over the edge, his release pulsing through him in powerful waves. He rode the wave of pleasure, his body trembling as he emptied himself, gasping for breath.

But even as he came for second time, his body continued to react, hypersensitive to every touch. He overstimulated himself, prolonging the pleasure and pushing himself to the brink of overwhelming sensation. Despite the intensity, he couldn't stop, his hand moving almost mechanically, seeking that final, blissful release.

As he leaned against the cool tiles, spent and still trembling, he couldn't shake the lingering desire for more. The fantasy of you lingered in his mind, fueling a hunger that would not easily be sated. He knew that the next time he saw you, every glance, every word exchanged would hold a newfound intensity, a longing that burned deeper than ever before.

Curiosity got the best of you as you entered the restroom in search of Yuuji, wondering why he had abruptly left practice. It had been unlike him to disappear without a word, and you couldn’t shake the concern that something might be wrong. Pushing open the door, you were met with the unexpected sight of him sprawled on the cool, tiled floor. His pants were pooled around his ankles, and his toned abs and hands were slick and glistening with his own release. Despite the aftermath, his cock stood proudly erect, a conflicted expression etched on Yuuji's face as he stared at it, small whimpers escaping his lips in his desperate quest for release once more.

The air in the restroom was heavy with the musky scent of arousal, adding to the charged atmosphere. Yuuji’s eyes, normally vibrant with energy and mischief, now held a mix of embarrassment and raw need. He looked up at you, his gaze pleading silently for understanding and perhaps even assistance.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. His vulnerability in this moment was palpable, and you found yourself drawn to him despite the unexpectedness of the situation. Slowly, you approached him, the click of your shoes against the tile echoing softly in the silence. As you knelt beside him, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his skin flushed with desire and frustration.

He whispered your name, thinking all of this was a dream– Tentatively, your hand trailed down his chest, fingers ghosting over the slick, sensitive skin. His breath hitched at your touch, a mix of anticipation and relief flooding his features. "Please," he begged, his voice strained with desire. "Poor puppy– leaving training just because hormones got the best of him." He whimpered at the pet name you used, your hand now gently caressing his balls, catching him off guard and eliciting a loud moan that made you quickly cover his mouth with your hand.

"Shh, puppy," you whispered, your tone teasing yet commanding. "We wouldn't want others to hear what a needy slut you are, would we?" His eyes widened, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he shook his head frantically.

"Good boy," you cooed, your touch firm yet reassuring, knowing exactly how to play him.

pt2?

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, established relationship, cockwarming WC:1K

A/N: Will I ever tire of writing about cockwarming Steve? big fat fucking nope. Enjoy!

By the fourth time you walk up to his home office with your teeth clenching the inside of your cheek and your thighs warm from pressing together so often, you know for certain that you wouldn't be able to peel yourself away this time.

On days when Steve worked from home you usually tried not to intrude until he was finished with his work. You always left him to type and scroll and click without distraction but you're forced to break your little rule today, reminded that some urges are just too strong to quell when the throbbing between your legs refuses to yield.

He's yet to notice you watching him from the doorway as he types, quietly taking in the way he's concentrating on his tasks. The light from the monitor reflects off the lenses of his glasses, the same ones he'd once grumbled about having to wear when the Doctor recommended them at his last check up.

He only warmed up to them after all the times you slipped in little comments about how handsome he looked in them. Even now when the woody hazel of his eyes are veiled with a sheen of blues and purples and his hair, now dry from his morning shower and uncombed, hangs over his forehead instead of pushed back like usual.

Stepping inside, you pad over on bare feet, your footsteps muted by the soft carpet beneath your soles as you approach him silently. It's only when your shadow stretches over his keyboard that Steve realizes you've come in, turning away from the computer screen to give you his attention.

"Hey sweet thing", he greets with a smile, lazy but full of warmth.

You try to match it with one of your own though you realize you've already given yourself away when a look of concern overtakes Steve's face, noticing the furrowing of your brow and the soft pout of your lips as he reaches out to take your hand.

"Everything alright?", he swivels his chair round to face you, meeting your stare with his wide, attentive eyes.

"Just wondering if you'll be done soon", you try to keep your tone steady but your voice wavers towards the end, bleeding into a slight whine that he catches easily.

"Gonna be another hour", he tells you with soft, kind eyes and a gentle squeeze of your hand. "What's got you so worked up?"

The question, though expected, leaves you feeling a little frazzled. You can't deny how tightly wound you've become over the last couple of hours just from imagining all the things you'd like for Steve to do to you, a potent mix of tension and yearning gnawing at you from within your belly, your whole body begging for a kind of relief only Steve can provide you.

"I miss you", you reply earnestly before your voice drops into a pointed whisper. "Wanna be close to you".

The way Steve's eyes light up from behind his glasses makes you feel hopeful, happy to see him appear so eager because you know he's caught on now.

"Yeah?" he pulls you closer to stand between his spread legs, lips picking up into a grin. "Feeling needy, huh?"

You're not embarrassed to admit it, leaning in closer to Steve, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, inhaling the lingering scent of the mango shampoo and body wash you both share.

" 's all wet down there. Feels so empty Stevie", you whisper, making sure to flick your tongue over his lobe before you pull away and look at him longingly.

You find him looking more than a little pleased. "Show me", he orders you gently, his gaze following your hands as you curl your fingers around the hem of your dress, lifting it up to let him see underneath.

Your panties are simple, standard white cotton but thin enough that he can easily make up the shape of your pussy underneath, the fabric swallowed up slightly between your folds while the near translucent patch of cotton where your slick had gathered is damp to the touch when he extends a hand to cup you gently.

"Poor baby. Need me to fill you up?", he pouts playfully at you.

You nod, letting out a shaky sigh as he pulls your panties aside, unsticking the wet cotton from your weeping core, lightly brushing his fingers through the hair on your mound before beginning to rub circles over the firm bead of your clit.

"You gonna be good for me and stay still till I finish my work?", he asks next, leaning forward to press a quick kiss just above your clit.

"Yes", you nearly squeak, his fingers closing around your clit to pinch it softly, rolling the sensitive pearl between his thumb and forefinger.

"Come here then", he grins.

Elated, you let your skirt drop, reaching under it to pull your panties down past your knees and step out of them when they pool around your ankles, letting the undergarment rest on the floor to be picked up later.

Steve gets himself ready too, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his ankles with ease, his cock still mostly soft but starting to harden as you move to straddle his thighs first.

You start by licking your palm, both of your eyes fixed on the way you wrap your wet fingers around his length and begin to stroke him until he firms up completely in your hand.

"Can I? please?", you look to Steve, your breathing almost labored because of how close you are to what you've been craving all day.

"Yeah, go on sweetheart", he replies, cradling your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss before you balance yourself of your knees, hands on his shoulders and with Steve's hands secure on your hips to help keep you steady.

Aligning your entrance with the tip of his cock, your skirt fans out around you, feeling Steve's tip press past your folds and bump your hole. You're able to have him push through with a little effort, popping inside and easing the rest of him inside you while you sink down inch by inch, swallowing his length as your walls keep a tight grip on him down to his base, your built up arousal leaking all around him.

"Thank you, Steve", you sigh blissfully, so relieved to be full, no longer battling that ache that'd formed when you were empty.

"That's my girl. Sure you can hang on till I finish this up?", he rubs a hand down your back to soothe you while you hook your chin over his shoulder, humming back contently.

He pats you lightly on the ass, a soft chuckle making his chest rumble against yours. "Good. And don't get too comfortable, okay? I'm not even close to being done with you yet".

[ch6sos]

✧.* nanami headcanons <3

He hums/sings while showering and feels embarrassed when confronted about it.

When someone he enjoys talking to speaks to him, he usually appears serious, but his expression is always unreadable. The expression conveys pure fondness for the person!! He enjoys hearing them ramble about their day, their lives, etc. He gives them a warm look.

Definitely a listener more than a rambler. He listens to people all the time, and remembers the small details about them. He tends to bring them up sometimes, which surprises the other person. But, he is extremely attentive to detail and loves getting to know people.

You know how in Korean dramas, the male lead is always a jack of all trades or something? Nanami is exactly that guy. Need assistance with your plumbing? He is there. Do you need to fix a lightbulb? He is there. Need help building a house? He is there.

He plays an instrument. He would play either the piano, violin, or flute.

He definitely enjoys watching movies in his spare time. When he is not doing anything, he enjoys watching movies. If he existed in the modern world, he would for sure have a Letterboxd account.

In a Modern AU, Nanami would undoubtedly be an English/History major. I do not care what anyone says. Maybe philosophy or business. But he would be one of those fine humanities majors you notice and immediately fall for.

Books are his specialty. He probably has several places where he goes to relax and read a book he recently purchased.

Speaking of books, if he gets a partner, he will read to them. He would cuddle them in bed, holding them in his arms while he read silently to them, pressing his lips against their ear, the soft, deep tone of his voice sounding like a musical masterpiece in their ear.

Pottery!! He enjoys pottery so much. He probably went to a pottery event/class when he was bored (he failed, the bowl looked like a deformed apple) but he really enjoyed the process. He definitely began to watch more videos on pottery and probably got himself a pottery wheel.

He is definitely an animal lover. he doesn't look like it, but he loves, LOVES, LOVES animals. If he sees a dog, his heart flutters but he doesn't touch it just in case. But, he's an animal attractor of course. The dogs are all over him at the dog park, and he smiles a little while petting them.

Speaking of animals, he probably has a cat. The cat is named after a food for sure. It is most definitely a type of bread or sandwich or a nut. For example, Pistachio or Baguette.

Super gentle with children. He genuinely enjoys being around them. Ask him about having children He will Be On Board.

HE WOULD NOT BE MEAN. The amount of people I have seen mischaracterize him by making him mean just because he's serious. No. He is just introverted and serious and needs to be comfortable around a person.

During relationships, he genuinely enjoys checking in on the person he is dating. He is always there for them, comforting, cherishing, and listening. He tries to get off work as soon as possible so that he can spend time with his significant other.

If he is shown too much affection, he does not snap or become angry with the person. He just blushes. He just lets out a soft "hm" and pretends to be serious, but his heart is racing, and his cheeks, ears, and neck indicate otherwise. He also gives them a slightly surprised look that quickly turns to his stoic look.

He definitely bought baby shoes at a store just because he thought they were so cute. Mans just wants a baby.

He would be both a girl and a boy dad. I do not care what anyone says; he loves both. If he has a son, he will do everything in his power to raise him as a gentleman while also showing him a lot of love and affection. If he has a daughter, he will be so gentle with her while also raising her to be a sophisticated, strong young woman.

Genuinely would be the grandpa of the friend group. Come on. Just look at him.

As a teenager, he probably would do the emo hair flip thing because his fringe kept getting onto his eye. Gojo probably laughed his ass off.

Secretly really touch-starved. People think he is not affectionate, but he is, just not in public. He would most likely grab his significant other while they were doing something and attack them with kisses. He probably likes being a little spoon sometimes even though he looks like an old man. He is clingy, okay? But not overly clingy. Sometimes he needs his own space.

Loves kissing their partner's beauty moles. The ones under their nose, the ones on their ear, the ones on scattered around their face, the ones in other areas... Wherever they are located, he will kiss them.

Sometimes he needs to be reassured. He needs to know if he is doing okay, if he is treating a person well. It looks like he does not need it, but he genuinely sometimes gets insecure about how others perceive him or how well he treats them. He worries about hurting someone's feelings.

Loves to try and hype up his partner with extreme amount of compliments. He is truly the number one simp and hype man.

I am a strong advocate for the fact that Nanami loves people of color. Like he will date a person of color. I don't CARE. I am Afro-Latina let me have my headcanon in peace : (

Once again. He is NOT mean. He will not yell. If he is angry, he is calm. He does not yell and if he does it is extremely rare. But he would never in his life yell at his partner or children if he has any. The only way he shows disappointment is by staying calm.

Speaking of being angry, he is not the type to show silent treatment. He would much rather talk rather than give a cold shoulder. He is a grown man. He knows how to communicate, people.

Old-fashioned nicknames. That is all. My love. Darling. Sweetheart.

He is probably fluent in several languages. I understand he is overly perfect, but he is perfect in my eyes. He probably takes the time to learn languages so that people feel included. Plus, he genuinely enjoys learning about different cultures.

Owned a bakery or worked as a chef at some point in his life. Maybe even a barista.

Helps old ladies cross the street, assists people with heavy bags, is courteous to his neighbors, and is the grandson of every old neighbor ever.

Probably is the type of guy to sit down on the couch and not try at Just Dance, and ends up winning.

Despite being serious, he would genuinely be bad at the game Among Us. This is so random but hear me out.

Favorite ice cream flavor is probably coffee or pistachio. Maybe even basic vanilla. He is not a big fan anyway.

Jazz music, classical music, old music is his speciality. In high school during his emo hair era he more so listened to 90s rock/punk rock.

His most used app(s) on his Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra is WhatsApp and Candy Crush.

Definitely has a whole closet of clothing and browses through them every night to see what suit he wants to wear for the next day.

When he shops or gets food, he goes to local family owned shops. He does not go to Starbucks for his coffee. He goes to the local family owned coffee shop.

Dry texter but if he gets a partner who is not a dry texter, he genuinely begins to pick up their habits. If they type with emojis he begins using emojis. I apologize but he'd unironically use the laughing crying emoji. "Haha! 😂". Okay but genuinely, he would actually keyboard slam at some point. He sends them a photo, they go like "jshekehdkehdjdlsjdl" and one time they did the same thing and he was like:

"....Kshskshdjxbsnab." You know?

He is low key sassy. He was affected by sassy man apocalypse. He hides it in that serious exterior of his but he gives the biggest side eyes sometimes, crosses his legs too.

Snores like a dad. Bro was probably recorded by Haibara while he was in the dorms and bro was snoring like a regular ol dad. Drooling too. What a silly guy.

Anyway...

Overall, the best man ever. He is the man ever and that is why he is not real. Unfortunately.

forever angel <33

[choso-is-bbg]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐘...

choso's the type of guy who gives you back hugs at random. you could be cooking and next thing you know, strong arms are wrapped around your waist. even in long lines. he just likes resting his head in the nape of your neck and breathing in your scent.

choso's the type of guy who's happy to see you getting along with his brothers. just you all being there in the living room either playing a silly game or just talking about nonsense. he's just happy that his favourite people can get along.

choso's the type of guy who apologizes immediately after a fight. even if it's not his fault he just has to. which makes it hard for you to stay mad at you. he doesn't want to go to bed with a heavy heart thinking about the fight the entire night. he's always grateful and makes it up to you as soon as you forgive him.

choso's the type of guy who loves it when you play with his hair. it's just something about the way you massage his scalp lightly that has his eyes lidded and feeling completely relaxed. some days he just lets you style his hair for the day because he believes you just do it way better.

choso's the type of guy who yaps about you when you're the topic of discussion. when you're name is mentioned he starts ranting none stop. he could be asked "how's your girlfriend doing?". " she's absolutely wonderful. especially with what she did for me....", and he just goes on and on not letting the other person leave.

choso's the type of guy who always makes sure to take pictures of the both of you. whatever date that you go on or whatever activity you decide to do at home he makes sure to take a picture of it. they're for memories so that he can look back when he misses you dearly or when you're old and wrinkly, as he likes to say it.

choso's the type of guy who speaks up for you at restaurants. he knows you're not yourself at crowded places and he knows you get anxiety when you even think about ordering or even correcting the order. he understands because he goes through this too, but he has to speak for you and he does which you greatly appreciate.

choso's the type of guy who loves receiving forehead and cheek kisses from you. he finds it so intimate when you press your lips on either his cheek or forehead. his cheeks dusting pink and a stupid smile spreading across his face. he likes to think it's a silent way of you telling him that you love him.

choso's the type of guy who values your opinion on certain things. on whatever it is, be it what he's cooking, ordering or what he's gonna wear to sleep, he must ask you because he really values your opinions, even if sometimes that could be a bit off he still asks you anyways.

choso's the type of guy who dreams of starting a family with you one day. just the thought of you carrying and taking care of something that you made together makes your heart race. he spaces out when he sees a beautiful ring on display and imagining your reaction when he gets down on one knee. but he's gonna have to wait...wait for the perfect moment

[catiuskaa]

need you to [Lee] Know.

SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3

CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol

WC: 1.2k

A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.

“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”

It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it��s a phone call set on speaker.

“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.

Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.

“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”

What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.

“You think so?”

And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.

As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.

“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”

Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.

“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”

He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.

“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”

Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.

“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.

“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.

“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.

You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.

“No what?” You mutter.

He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.

“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”

He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.

“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.

And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.

“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.

Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”

He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.

He loves you.

So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.

“I love you.”

And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”

You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.

“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”

Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.

You want to say it too. But in his own way.

So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.

It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.

“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.

“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.

He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.

He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.

“You have twenty minutes.”

You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.

Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.

He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!

[distantdarlings]

SLUG CLUB TONIGHT // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details, but Reader is wearing a skirt)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo asks you to skip Slughorn's dinner party with him, but when you refuse, he decides to take it out on you during the event. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering, in public, touching underneath table, reader tries to resist at first, language, dom!Theo (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

---

A shuddering breath pushed itself through your lips as you watched yourself in the dormitory mirror. A nervous, borderline panicking student stared back at you. Perhaps it was childish, but you felt like you were about to throw up. You’d never really been a person for going to events—any type, really. They made you feel out of your league.

You closed your eyes and pushed strands of hair behind your ears, holding your hands next to your face for a moment. There was no reason for you to be so nervous. You had as much a reason to be there as everyone else did. Professor Slughorn asked you, just as he’d asked everyone else. Yet, it felt like you were intruding somehow. 

“Merlin, get it together,” you mumbled, running a sweaty palm down the front of your skirt, praying the slight wrinkles would work themselves out. It was fifteen ‘til, and you had run out of time to stall. You opened your eyes and headed toward the door, hands wringing themselves bare. 

It was cold in the vast hallways tonight. A small shiver passed through your body, the chilled air permeating your suit jacket somehow. You wrapped your arms around your body, intending to trap some heat against you. 

You glanced around, trying to spot a familiar face. Your boyfriend, Theo, had mentioned that he’d meet you around five minutes before the dinner party began, yet you saw him nowhere. The anxiety began to creep back into your stomach at the realization that you may have to walk into Slughorn’s office by yourself. You prayed that he’d show soon. 

You continued down the halls, your arms still tightly hugging your body, your teeth still silently chattering. When Professor Slughorn had invited you to join his famed Slug Club, you’d been overjoyed. You couldn’t believe he’d offer you such an honor, though you considered Potions to be one of your strongest classes. He’d told you that you were a pleasure to work with, and he believed you might be on the track to taking his position one day. Of course, you’d laughed at that then, but perhaps he was right. You didn’t mind the thought of teaching Potions, especially if it meant getting to remain at Hogwarts for the rest of your days. With graduation quickly approaching, the thought of having to leave the castle that had quickly become your home made you a bit nauseated. 

“Boo!” Hands jolted against your arms abruptly. You gasped, repressing the shriek of terror that had begun to build in your throat. Theo appeared before you, uproarious laughter printed on his face. You scoffed and slapped at his arm. Dick.

“Don’t do that, you jerk!” you scolded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” his laughter finally began to die, “I just couldn’t help myself; the look on your face is always priceless.”

“Whatever,” you scoffed. You began to walk past him, not bothering to let him catch up. 

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he chuckled gently, running to fall back in step beside you. You shook your head and promptly ignored him. His hands slid around your waist, trying to show some affection as the two of you walked. 

“Stop it,” you said, slapping his hands away. He didn’t deserve any part of you if he was going to continue to scare you like that. 

“Baby, come on,” he whispered, his lips suddenly against your ear. When did he get so close? His strong arms yanked you against his chest, stopping you dead in your tracks. He tightened them around you, tucking your body against his tall front. His lips, still pressed to your ear, pulled back to reveal his teeth. He nipped against the soft flesh there, his warm breath toasting your cold skin. You shivered in delight, his touch ever so addicting. 

“Stop it, Theo, we’re going to be late,” you mumbled, your words as reluctant as your desire to pull away from him. He always knew how to alleviate any anger in your body. His lips on your ear and neck never stopped despite your words.

“You want me to, baby?” he whispered. “Do you really want to go to this dinner?” His warm fingers gently placed themselves across your throat, teasing his next movements. You swallowed thickly, feeling the motion push against his hand. 

“Yes, we promised we’d go,” you whispered. His hand tightened around your neck. A shock of heat pushed through your stomach at the sensation. 

“You sure? We could just go back to my dorm…,” he mumbled, his mouth hot against your skin. “I could warm you up.”

“Ugh!” You finally worked up the nerve to pull away from him. “We said we’d go to this party, Theo. We’ve got to go.” You’d put your foot down, and he knew it.

“Ugh, but why?” he whined. “We can miss one. He has them all the time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“We made a promise, Theo,” you insisted. “If you stop complaining and come with me, I’ll be sure to thank you for it later.” His eyes perked up at that.

“I’ll thank you thoroughly,” you specified, a smirk curving the edges of your lips. He rolled his eyes at your persuasion and reluctantly nodded his head. You reached out a hand and waited for him to take it. Though he was a little disappointed you didn’t agree to ditch the party with him, he still squeezed your hand affectionately as you led him down the hallways all the way to Professor Slughorn’s office.

When the two of you finally came upon the warmly lit room, the anxiety seemed to melt off you immediately. You were surrounded by people you called friends, and, most importantly, Theo was with you. Even with the majority of the party’s attendees being acquaintances of yours, you still felt much more confident when your boyfriend was with you. Perhaps that was the sign of an unhealthy attachment…You weren’t sure, but you weren’t concerned about that right now. 

The room was well-decorated with several intricately designed sconces that cast a comforting glow across the large, rounded table in the center of the room. Several of the Slug Club members had already found their seats while others stood, mingling. All of them seemed to be awaiting the Professor, as he did not seem to be currently present. A couple of your friends caught your eye and waved the two of you over to the table. A smile spread across your lips, and you squeezed Theo’s hand, pulling him along with you. 

“Welcome!” A boisterous voice announced itself in the corner. As the two of you found your seats, your eyes found the plump Professor. A large, jolly smile was printed on his lips, and his hands gripped his new suitcoat proudly. He was always very kind; he sort of reminded you of Santa Clause, except no beard. You smiled at the thought. 

“Slug Club members, I hope you know I’ve got a wonderful dinner planned for you this evening and—dare I say it—an even better dessert!” Everyone chuckled politely at that, wandering over to the table to find their seats. 

Once everyone was seated, including the Professor, he waved his hands, and an absolutely glorious feast appeared before your eyes. Your mouth practically began to water at the smell. Everyone exclaimed in one way or another before digging in.

As soon as the room had piled their plates high, the conversation started. It was purely academic at first, as it always was, until it started to slip into much more casual subjects with the Professor leading, per usual. He asked personal questions in an effort to get to know his students better, his curiosity always getting the better of him. 

“What do everyone’s parents do?” he said, glancing around at the circle of congregants, eyebrows quirking. The student just to the left of him started—you were pretty sure she was a Ravenclaw. She mentioned that her dad was an Auror and that he—your lips parted suddenly in shock. Your eyes glanced down to see Theo’s hand placed gently on your thigh. You glanced over at him. He looked completely normal as if he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. Perhaps it was just a subconscious action of affection. You cleared your throat and returned to your meal, ignoring the tick of heat in your stomach. 

The next student started on their spiel about their parents, though every syllable was lost on you as Theo’s hand moved between your thighs. You glanced down once more, melting at the way his hand positively dwarfed your leg. His grip was firmer now. Still, his face showed no reaction to what he was doing. To any on-lookers, he was simply listening to the student speaking.

His hand raised up your thigh, the motion shoving your skirt up against the bend of your hips. You gasped slightly at the exposure of your skin but noticed that the thick tablecloth concealed you from anyone near you. A breath of relief washed through you at that but was quickly interrupted when his pinky traced down your core through your underwear. You repressed a gasp at the sensation, cursing your body from the moisture that began to gather within the thin fabric of your bottoms. Fuck. 

Theo’s lips branded a slight smirk. Fucking bastard—he knew exactly what he was doing. This was payback for not ditching the party with him. 

The next student to go was the one just next to Theo. Soon, it would be his and your turn. He didn’t seem to care that the eyes of the whole table were getting closer and closer to the two of you. The student began to speak, Theo’s head turning to look at him. You continued to struggle through your meal, ignoring the way Theo’s fingers traced up and down. 

His deft fingertips slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, releasing your core into the cool air. A shudder spread across your thighs, causing you to squeeze them together in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold. Theo’s fingers abandoned your core, tightened against your right thigh, and roughly spread them apart. The motion shook the table with a sudden thud. All eyes landed on the two of you.

“My apologies. I believe I kicked the table when I crossed my legs,” Theo said calmly, chuckling a bit. 

“Well, that’s quite alright, dear boy,” Slughorn smiled. “Please continue, Mr. McLaggen.” Everyone’s eyes returned to the Gryffindor sitting next to Theo. As their attention was once again pulled to the boy, Theo leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Open your goddamn legs, or I’ll really embarrass you,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. You swallowed thickly, your legs spreading open once more. His hand found its way back to your core, his fingers gently swiping over the bare flesh. Every motion was only enough to elicit a small jolt out of your hips every once in a while. The want pooled around his fingers. 

“And you, Mr. Nott?” Slughorn spoke. Everyone’s eyes came to Theo, who seemed more than happy to keep them there and refuse to cease his movements beneath the table. Your heart rate increased with fear. Still, you worked at your dinner, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

As Theo began to speak, his fingers drew a slow circle around your dripping core, collecting every bit of slick as he could before promptly plunging two of them within your entrance. A gasp of shock and pleasure spilled from your lips. It only came out as a slight cough and drew no one’s concern, but you didn’t know how inconspicuous you could continue to be. 

“Well, it sounds like your family is quite put together; it’s got everything figured out,” Slughorn chuckled. Theo laughed and nodded. His eyes turned to you, as did everyone else’s. Fuck. 

“Um,” you chuckled nervously. Theo’s fingers never ceased, the strong creatures curving against the sweetest spot within you. Your lips shuddered as you opened them once more. You began to speak of your parents, keeping it as short as possible.

“I see…and are you interested in following in their footsteps?” Slughorn inquired. Your eyes found his once more, trying to conceal the panic in them. Had he asked anyone else that question? Was he trying to keep you talking? Did he know? Surely not…This must just be shitty luck. You stuttered briefly before delving into your answer.

“Well, I didn't think about it too terribly much until only a f-few weeks ago—” Theo’s thumb began to caress the very top of your core, the sensitive area quivering beneath his familiar touch—“when you’d suggested I look into becoming a professor.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that!” he clapped his hands together joyously, a smile popping over his face. “I do think you’d do well to continue looking into that.”

“Of course,” you nodded, pushing a smile onto your lips. With great relief, Slughorn moved onto the girl sitting next to you. Theo leaned back over to you.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, “I’m impressed.” A coil you’d felt many times in your relationship with Theo began to swirl in your stomach. Fuck, he didn’t intend on making you cum here, did he? Your core began to tighten around his fingers, your legs pressing together. He knew what was coming. He’d felt it often. A smirk fell across his lips, his fingers never stopping.

You bit your lips roughly, hot metal spilling between your teeth. You sat up straighter, trying to push his fingers from you, but he refused. He wasn’t going to do it to you—fuck, he couldn’t… The edge of your finish pressed against you. You were so, so close—

His fingers pulled from you, dragging your slick meanly across your thigh. You dropped a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your legs shaking slightly. Your eyes found Theo’s, and your jaw clenched. He refused to look at you, that stupid smug smirk still resting on his lips. It was probably a good thing he didn’t look at you, else the look on your face might set him ablaze. You were going to fucking get him back. And it was going to be twice as bad.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

[aouiaa]

hii can you please do an abby x reader where Manny throws a party at the WLF stadium and abby and her gf go and her gf gets quite drunk and when she gets drunk she gets clingy and it’s just cute and fluffy and stuff.

if not don’t stress 💐💐

❝ HOW ABOUT THAT OFFER ? ❞ — ABBY ANDERSON

warnings and disclaimers, dealer!abby, alcohol consumption, usage of pet names (babe, pretty), descriptions of types of drunks, abby being so mm (need her).

TAPE THE MOUTH SHUT, i couldn’t resist the chance to scooch in the amazing dealer trope. i meannn, who doesn’t love her? I DO, MUAHAHA. keep sending requests! i love getting requests, or asks in general. just read my rules AND don’t be weird. OKAYYAYAABYEYEE

A firm knock on the wooden, painted door interrupts the participants inside. the music, once a mere background noise, now assaults your ears as the door opens and manny stands there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. after greeting abby with dab, the two of you step into the room, the space seems to shrink as groups of people mill about, mingling together. the thick air, laden with the combined scents of sweat and weed, assaults your senses.

The tension in the air calls for some liquid courage, barely letting abby mingle with her own crowd, you practically drag her towards the makeshift alcohol table, where you promptly pour a random assortment of shitty, cheap liquor into a solocup. abby, who’s barely registering how she even got it there, notices your witch’s concoction, and laughs, leaning close enough so you can hear her over the music. "you sure you wanna drink that?" she taunts playfully.

In response, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you defiantly pour the chaser into the cup. "i can handle my liquor just fine, abby." you assure her, unamused. she immediately leans back, putting her hands up in a playful gesture of surrender "alright, alright," she laughs, "just saying ‘cause last time..." her voice trails off into laughter as you let out a exasperated sigh.

As the night wore on, so did the consumption, making the atmosphere becomes more carefree. it was cup after cup as you soon feel that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling that signals your transition to “that type of drunk.”

Everyone knows there are distinct of drunken personas: the aggressive, rowdy, and affectionate. as for you, the affection is on full display as you shower the apples of the blonde’s cheeks with kisses, dispensing them like a sprinkler sprinkling a flowerbed.

Abby, taking on the role of the caregiver for the evening sticks by your side at arms length. seated on a couch in the far corner of the main room, you purchase a spot on her lap, head resting on her shoulder with your arm flung around her neck while your other hand gently holds a half-empty cup of tonight’s libations. one of her lean, strong arms is wrapped around your waist, acting as your anchor.

Occasionally, between conversations with manny, she checks on you. this time is no exception, a strong tingling feeling resonates down your body from the touch of her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "lemme know when you're ready to head out, alright, pretty?" pressing a kiss to your cheek which makes you whinge, burying your face into the crook of her neck, flushed.

The thought of escaping this crowded scene and snuggling into the warmth of your fluffy pajamas, ensconced in the embrace of your plush bed, was tempting. but a guilty pleasure at best. you knew that abby's presence was strictly for business, parties merely transactions for her trade.

Over the course of the past three hours, a steady flow of people approached the two of you, each one slipping her money before muttering a brief ‘thanks’ and disappearing into the masses.

When money talked, you wouldn’t dare silent it.

It’s why you haven’t confirmed your submission, maybe the booze was talking, but all you really wanted to do was be coddled by your gentle giant. it’s not anything different than what it was three minutes ago. from afar, someone shouted her name, summoning her services. abby acknowledged the call, quickly murmuring, "i’l be back." before waving manny over to keep an eye on you.

It should have taken no more than a minute, perhaps a minute and a half if the asshole was particularly awkward. but that additional thirty seconds felt like an eternity of separation from her. you shook your head, pressing your body against hers as if your proximity alone could make her stay.

“no, stay here.” you sulk, abandoning the cup within milliseconds and wrap your arms tightly around her neck.

She chuckles, enclosing your body in a warm embrace. "but, i’ll be gone for a minute, tops." she promises.

Frustrated, you give her your best puppy eyes, questioning. “why can’t they just come over here?” shortly adding the dramatic proclamation, "i’ll die in those sixty seconds." that she knows you mean. with a heavy sigh and zero hesitation, she looks up at the guy waiting for her, then shakes her head dismissively before returning her attention back to you.

“okay, okay,” she hushes you, “i’m right here, babe.” she says, kissing your forehead and shifting in more comfortable position to embrace you. resting her head on yours and utters the only good thing that has came out of her mouth tonight.

“how about that offer?”

requests are open, don’t be shy :3

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm

[!] — PERCHANCE YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO MY PERMANENT, look here for more info!

[darkwaveho]

Damage Control: In the night

Summary: You’re not estranged when it comes to your girlfriend breaking in and entering your room unannounced but the reason behind it is what constantly eats away at you but tonight you no longer keep quiet about it. (Basically an injured Natasha using your room as a safe house.)

Pairings:Mob!Natasha x reader

Warnings: brief mention of abuse, hurt-comfort, small mention of blood, fluff? Brief smut.

Series Main masterlist

You lay there without fear or concern seeing as you’re already aware of who that could be entering your window. Small noises are heard, and the bed barely shifts after a few moments you will yourself to open your eyes with intentions to turn fully towards the cold body in your bed. Strong arms stop you in your tracks holding you in place. “Go back to sleep.”

The sound of her voice is so much richer within the nighttime it almost distracts you from what you know to be the truth. You needed to look at her, you needed to see her face before you even gave yourself the opportunity to even think about sleep anymore. Of course, Natasha isn’t going to budge, and she knows you aren’t either, that’s exactly why her grip around you grows stronger as you continue to fight against her. You huff with annoyance before finally saying something to her.

“Let me see you.” It’s silent for a moment, a moment too long in your opinion that lets you know what type of late-night visit this is. “It’s fine, I’m fine, now just go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up.” She dismisses any concern that you have as always. “What was the reason this time?” You don’t fight against her anymore, you simply just lay there as she’s pressed against your back. Maybe she’d talk about it in detail this time.

“Same as always.” Her response shouldn’t be a response she’s accustomed to but that was the reality of her life and burden of being placed in a situation where she’s responsible for everything and nothing other than perfection is accepted and even then, sometimes it wasn’t enough to save her from a fist and bruises littered across her body. You managed to turn around while her guard was down to finally assess the damage. You stare at her shadowy figure holding back your emotions. If you got too sentimental it would become too much for Natasha and in an instant, she’d be gone, you know because it’s happened before. She sports a black eye, a bruised lip and a few bruises on her shoulders. Her tank top still has dried blood on it. You don’t know if all of it is hers or not and you’re not going to ask. You quickly shift your thoughts on anything else sensing her fight or flight reaction beginning to start. You look away from her quickly as you sit up in bed you get up and head start for your dresser drawer. As you fumble through it, Natasha watches you the entire time and doesn’t say anything else. You turn to her as you throw a change of clothes at her. You aren’t doing a good job of hiding your frustration but then again you don’t care about hiding it. You’re sick of it, you're sick of her being treated this way and you’re sick of seeing her bloody and bruised by the hand that’s shot to protect her. Natasha glares at the spread out clothes on the bed and snaps her eyes at you. “I didn’t come here for pity, I don’t need a change of clothes. The clothes I have on are just fine.” 

“Those clothes are not fine, YOU are not fine Nat! You don’t need a reminder of what happened, your face is doing that all on its own.” You harshly whisper into the night. Your breathing is uneven, your head is starting to pound. It's four in the morning. You had very little energy to deal with this than you normally would have. Natasha wants you to forget about it, she wants you to not worry about her, she is enduring. She’s taking whatever comes her way to finish to the end. In the end when she’s the one running things in the family business. When she’s the one people are afraid of. When she has the power to make or end anyone she chooses. “I said, I don’t need pity.” She grabs the clothes and tosses them to the other side of the room with no guilt or remorse on her face. You want to kick her out, you want to yell at her for being stupid and stubborn. But you know, you know she wants to push you just to take the easy way out. She wants to find any little thing for her to run away from you and for the first time you’re starting not to care about her running away from you and her feelings.

“Then why did you come here?” She doesn’t have an answer for that she never has an answer for it at least not out loud, being in a relationship and dealing with expressing her emotions was still new to her. “If you didn’t come here for pity or to be cared for then leave out the same way you came because I’m not just going to keep ignoring this Nat, the way he treats you is not right. I’m sorry, I can’t be a shitty girlfriend and ignore the abuse that he causes you so if that’s what you want and if that’s what you’re looking for you’re wasting your time with me, I’ll never be okay with anyone hurting you.” “I’ll never be okay with you putting yourself through torture because you think you deserve it. You don’t deserve it Natalia.” You get back into your bed snatching your blanket on top of you and you make sure to turn over with your back facing Natasha. You can’t even see her facial expression right now, she’s in pure shock and an unfamiliar feeling that won’t go away is at the pit of her stomach. Her skin finally feels warm after walking in the cold for an hour to get to you. You once again feel the bed shift ready for your ears to hear the shut of your window but it never comes. There is nothing but silence.You're scared to turn around and be disappointed by her leaving instead of accepting the love and care that you constantly try giving her. The love and care she always rejects. Those deep thoughts are removed when strong arms wrap themselves around you again. this time pulling you closer. Her breath hits the back of your neck sending a chill down your spine. Her hands slightly tremble before getting more firm against your body. You don’t know if it's because of her bruised knuckles or if she’s actually nervous. “Sorry.” It’s all she says, it's all she can say at the moment but you’ll accept it seeing as how hard it is to even get her to apologize in the first place for anything. 

“Will you let me get the first aid kit?” Natasha sighs, she still wasn’t fond of being catered to and being seen as weak. She silently nods her head against yours. You silently get up from the bed and tell Natasha to put the clean clothes on. While also being careful about making as little noises as possible, you honestly don’t know if your father is home or not as of late things have been very busy for him and the family. You return from the bathroom with the kit handing her the box to do it herself. You don’t want to be overly pushy when it comes to stuff like this, plus she’s quicker to get it done than you are. She finally undresses and you honestly weren’t expecting to see more bruises with each piece of clothing hitting the floor. She’s waiting for you to say something about them, ready for an excuse to lash out and push you away again. After seeing the extra wound you look away giving her some sense of privacy instead of making her feel like a displayed punching bag. You don't forget to subtly sit an icepack near her the way her eye is swelled up. It would most likely be shut closed by the morning time if not iced at the bare minimum. You ignore the way she huffs out a force of air through her nose, she is irritated but she still hasn’t snapped at you for it, not yet. You make your way back to the bed facing away from her. When she’s done treating her wounds and putting on the new night clothes you gave her she enters the bed again. There is a brief moment of silence before her stomach growls loudly, you feel her become stiff as if that would make her hunger disappear. “Are you hungry?” 

“No” she replies immediately, it fascinates you how she’s quickly able to lie through her teeth. You raise an accusing eyebrow just as her hunger makes itself known once more, even louder than the first time. “Liar” Natasha sighs in defeat and finally answers truthfully. “Fine, I didn’t eat dinner. I was too busy internally bleeding.” She attempts to make a lighthearted joke that you don’t find funny at all. You poke her in her ribs. Natasha hisses in pain, the pain was so bad that she was nearly yelling out loud. Thankfully you’re quick by covering her mouth with your hands. “Shh, shut up!” You shush her cries and grunts of pain. When she’s calmed down a bit you finally remove your hands from her mouth. “What the fuck was that for?” She is still trying to steady her breathing and manage her pain. “I didn’t find that joke very funny, asshole.” You unwrap yourself from her embrace, without a word you stop in front of your bedroom door. “Promise me you won’t be gone when I come back?” You give a look of seriousness because she’s done it plenty of times leaving you without a word for a job, just because or simply because of her being overstimulated by emotions. “Fuck off.” She’s still upset about you poking at her wounds. You know her response is not in a malicious way so you ignore it. “Natasha, I’m serious.” She gives you her signature smirk remembering the last few times she’s done that to you, as she crosses an X over her heart. “And hope to die.” You nod once in agreement, anytime Natasha used that it meant she was serious about keeping her word. It’s a weird arrangement but it works in a twisted, melancholy way. You leave the room quickly and quietly, not taking long to prepare a snack. You return with her still in the same spot you left her in. You hand her a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk to wash it down with. “I made your favorite, peanut butter and banana.” She can never just take things as they are so you weren’t surprised when she had a sarcastic response shooting from her mouth.“You gonna tuck me in and read me a story too?” 

“I’m close to throwing you out my window now, do you want the food or not because I can give it to the other strays that would actually appreciate it.” 

“Did you basically just call me a stray cat?” Your irritation grows more intense why? Why does she insist on being so difficult, especially at a time like this? “Yes, yes I did. Do you want it or not? I'm tired Nat.” You hold the plate and the cold glass out for her to reach. It takes a moment but after a brief pause she takes the food from you and nods her head. You know she’s thankful for it. You won’t be difficult with her tonight. After handing her the food you return to bed with the intention of going back to sleep on the verge you feel her hands wrapped around you. Her face pressed against yours and the smell of peanut butter invaded your nose. “Thank you.” Those two words weren’t just meant for the sandwich. Those two words were universal for Natasha; that's just how her brain worked. It was a thank you for everything not just tonight but other nights that have passed when she needed shelter like this. She ends her thanks with a kiss to your lips. “You’re welcome.” 

“Tash?”

“Hm?” 

“What if you left some of your clothes here for when this happens?” You don’t want to enable this situation but it’s evidently clear that this isn’t going to change anytime soon. Her father’s temper won’t change. His views on her life choices won’t change. Natasha’s mindset on leaving this life all together and running away with you won’t ever change. After a moment of awkward silence Natasha finally responds. “What am I a pet?” 

“No, I just thought it would be more convenient…actually forget I said anything.” You turn away from her again. You don’t want her to see how overly mushy and clingy you’re being right now. 

“Fine, I guess a few clothes won’t hurt.” Her voice comes out low and gentle. With that unexpected response you face her again ignoring the strained grunt that comes out of her mouth from the bed shifting. You place a small kiss to her nose and snuggle up to her chest. You massage her scalp gently knowing it helps her fall asleep faster. There’s still just one more thing in your mind and you have to ask her while she’s all buttered up. You were taking the crown for ultimate opportunist tonight.

“One more thing.” She groaned, she was actually tired now and her social meter was at its lowest point right now. “What now? And make it quick, I’m tired.” You want to slap her arm but remember the uncertainty of your father being home yet. Her breath fans over your cheek and her heartbeat finds a comfortable rhythm. Now’s your chance. “Promise me that you’ll be here in the morning when I wake up.” You hate the vulnerability in your voice sometimes you hate how much you display affection more than Natasha does. You shouldn’t be anxious to ask her for something so minuscule, but she doesn’t function like others would in a normal relationship. This was not a normal relationship no matter how bad you want it to be. “Promise.” She says it almost too fast for you. It was untrustworthy; she's known for ghosting you. “Not scared about daddy catching us together anymore?” It’s not a malicious question but the teasing is evident in her voice. She’s playing it cool right now but she was also in the same position. At times she’s being overly aware and cautious about how much time she spends away from the meeting in your fathers home office, how much she’s constantly timing herself knowing Alexei is doing the same waiting to catch her doing something so insignificant just to reprimand her. There were even times your father almost caught you two in uncompromising situations, when Natasha isn’t supposed to even be near you at all. Sometimes she's so cautious that she would ignore you completely while she was downstairs. She’s only been able to sneak away a few times to have a quick moment with you and even then that wasn’t enough for you. (It wasn’t enough for her either but you don’t know that yet.) 

“Truthfully, l wouldn’t care if he found out. I just want you safe.” Once again Natasha curses in her mind another mushy moment that she can’t seem to deny tonight. She raises her hand over your chest. The action isn’t what you were expecting at first but then she crosses an X over your heart and whispers. “I promise.” She kisses you hard, taking your breath away, she clenches to you with need and purpose. You release a soft moan savoring in the warm embrace as long as she’s allowing you to. “Now please no more talking.” You scoff at her demanding request. “Hey, it’s my room.” She hums softly and shifts to place her face deeper into you, if she could jump into your skin right now she would but she’ll never tell you that. Natasha always needs the last word, so she mumbles into your neck. “Not while I’m in your bed, it’s not.” You mumble a sleepy ‘Whatever’ and let the rest of the early morning take over you. You needed rest but most importantly Natasha needed it more than anything right now. It’s honestly taking everything in you not to throw on your clothes and drag her to the emergency room but then you know she’ll ghost you for doing it. 

You know she’ll leave you wondering about her wellbeing as retaliation. She’s done it before , going radio silent without a care in the world knowing how much it affects you. So you shake those invading thoughts and force yourself into a deep sleep. The morning comes and your body feels light, too light. You’re scared to open your eyes right now. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of disappointment. Being lied to even when you have the best intentions of keeping her safe. It sucks. It more than sucks, it’s honestly heartbreaking but you swallow the hurt and open your eyes to an empty bed. She’ll never change. You check your phone for time and it’s almost noon. You’re surprised your father hasn’t checked in on you yet but then again you didn’t even know if he was home. You toss your phone on the bed quickly turning over to scream your frustrations into your silk pillowcase. This isn’t nearly enough to keep your emotions in control but you get up from the bed to start your morning routine. Whatever you had planned to do with Natasha is not happening anymore.You'll find something expensive to buy with your credit card to cope with it. After a long hot shower you return to your room and the moments from early morning flash into your mind that you can’t keep it together anymore. You won’t be silent about this. You won’t endure pain just because she does. You stomp towards your bed with determination, you grab your phone angrily tapping away at the screen. Her phone goes straight to voicemail. Did she block your number? You never leave voicemails as it’s too dangerous in Natasha’s words but you’re angry not thinking clearly. “You think this is funny? You think you can walk all over me and my feelings? You promised, fuck that you crossed your heart! I swear I don’t know what you want from me.” You pace back and forth around your room. “I don’t know what I can do to show you how much I care about you and how much good you deserve in this world. Until you can give me an answer I don’t want to see your face, you lying piece of shit!” Just as you yell those words your window opens up and the first thing you see in the reflection of your vanity mirror is a black leather boot. You swiftly turn around as Natasha stands there. 

“Who’s a lying piece of shit?” You don’t answer her as you end the voicemail and toss your phone on the bed. Your silence is becoming awkward for her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? And why do you look like you’re about to breathe fire out of your mouth?” 

“You left.” 

“What?” 

“You left, and you promised that you would stay.” Natasha walks back to the window and ducks down, her body half way through the opening before she grabs something and closes it completely. She brings a bag to your eye view. “I went to get you breakfast.” 

“What? You don’t do that, that’s not something you do.” 

“Oh, thanks I’ll remember that next time I want to do something for my girlfriend.” Natasha tosses the bag of food down on your desk and does nothing to hide her annoyed response. “Sorry.” Natasha brushes past your apology, she doesn’t get angry about it. She doesn’t fault you for her repeated patterns. She instead changes the subject. “Is the offer still on the table?” She stands there with a clenched jaw and an unwavering stare. Her eyes never leave yours, it's becoming  too much right now.whatever is going to come out of her mouth is clearly stressing her out to even say out loud.  “What offer?”

“Ya know, the whole dresser drawer girlfriend privilege thing.” You swear you saw a ghost of a grin, it was so quick you'd miss it if you blinked. Natasha was actually loving this new found step in the relationship. Just from the sound of the title, she’d be lying if she said she isn't making her day better. She can’t keep it a secret, it’s not like she didn’t rummage through your drawers anyway she might as well have some of her own in there as well. You smile at her trying to soften up the reasoning behind the drawer being offered in the first place. You’re glad she isn’t seeing it as a pity offering and finally accepting some of the perks of being in a safe space. 

“Yes, of course it is.” You try not to sound too eager, if you failed Natasha doesn’t comment on it. She nods in agreement and heads back out the window leaving you confused until she brings her backpack in with her and once again shutting the window. You want to ask her if she went back home for those clothes. You want to yell at her if she did return knowing you wanted her safe. With one look she can tell what’s going on in your mind and she’s quick to ease it. “Yelena, packed it for me.” She gently tugs at her bruised bottom lip ignoring the pain and starts unzipping the bag and placing her clothes into a drawer. You don’t say anything, you let her do whatever she wants. You let her have confidence and pride in placing her belongings with yours. 

When she’s done you rush over to her, pulling her into a bruising kiss that knocks her back into your dresser. She releases a low grunt from the contact and allows you to take control. After a moment you pull away from her lips. She looked dazed and breathless. “I’m sorry.” You kiss her again. The first kiss catches her off guard but she immediately holds you firmly against her. “Thank you for the breakfast.��� You kiss her again. “Thank you for putting your safety first this time.” You pull back as you breathlessly whisper those words against her lips. Her hands tighten against your hips. She wants you close, she needs you close. Her lips take control this time, her tongue brushes against your lips in a silent understanding. You give her access and her tongue immediately enters your mouth. It’s too much to keep up with, she's messy today, normally she’s so calm, collected, and patient but not right now. She can’t right now because she has too much to give to you. Too much appreciation to show you what her words won’t allow. Maybe she’ll get better with that in the future. You have to pull away when you hear the sound of a car door shutting, you’re not sure if it's your father or not but you won't take the chance of being caught. Natasha groans, still chasing your lips. You chuckle at the action and promise her later to continue. You give her one last kiss as you pull away. “Let’s eat this breakfast before it gets cold.” You open the bag and it’s nothing but greasy food, you won’t complain because it’s the thought that counts. 

After eating the greasy breakfast you enjoyed the nice moment of just having her company. It was a rare occasion where Natasha got to spend this much time with you. Natasha is going through her tossed away clothes from last night, pulling out her phone she taps away at the screen that you noticed is cracked now. The screen remains black and she turns to you, ignoring your watchful gaze and curious mind. She doesn’t want to talk about it. You remind yourself.

“Hey, can I use your charger, my phone is dead.” 

“Yeah sure.” And then you think about it…the voicemail you left. If Natasha’s phone was charged it would’ve ceased your mind about her being gone from your bed this morning. You quickly snatch her phone from her. “Okay?” She looks at you curiously with clenched eyebrows. “I, uh left a not so nice voicemail on your phone when I thought you left, so yeah.” The reaction you get is not what you expected from her. Instead of being upset about it she’s being very playful. “Oh, yeah? Let me hear it.” You frown at her response. You couldn’t stay in the same room with her after letting her hear what you said, because she might leave. You never when Natasha might blow up at you or just leave you in the darkness. There’s also part of you that wants to remain honest with her no matter what. In doing this you hand her the phone anxiously waiting until her phone powers up again while on the charger. Natasha can sense it and it’s the main reason why she wants to hear it. How bad could it be? What’s so horrible about this voicemail? She reflects back to how angry you looked when she came in and she’s not so sure if she even wants to hear it now. Her finger hovers over the play button, she takes a moment to truly think about what the outcome would be if the words you said were too harsh or too real for her to handle. She presses play and she hears it. She hears everything and feels the raw emotions behind your voice. It doesn’t feel good, it's not a feeling she wants to experience again. Sure you’ve had your share of arguments and temporary breakups but this time it would be different. You basically gave her an ultimatum. Show how much you mean to her or stay away from you. She doesn’t even care that you called her a lying piece of shit. If Natasha did ultimately decide to leave this morning and not come back you would be done with her. That’s what’s making her upset. She places her phone Back on the desk to continue charging. She doesn’t say anything to you after hearing the message. She takes her jacket off and tosses it on your chair, she then starts to unlace her boots tossing those as well across your room. You stand there curiously wondering what would happen next. Natasha’s mood can switch quickly through different emotions. Just like now, you aren’t sure what type of Natasha you would get.

“I wanted to do something nice for you and you call me a lying piece of shit.” 

“You were gone Nat, you didn’t even leave a note, how was I supposed to know?”

She scoffs, not appreciating your response. “You could have trusted me.” You pinch the bridge of your nose not understanding how your cute and soft moment has turned into an argument…again. “Why are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“I'm not picking a fight, you left the voicemail, not me.”Natasha folds her arms defensively. you sigh deeply, she was indeed picking a fight with you. You’re tired of the push and pull of it all when it comes down to her and this relationship. “Are you serious right now? We already moved past this!”

“No, you moved past this and we both know that you're still upset about it.” She’s right you were still upset about it but you were willing to deal with it on your own. Clearly Natasha isn’t gonna let that happen. “C’mon, I can take it.” you look at her curiously, not knowing where she was heading with this. She steps closer to you repeating herself again. “C’mon you want to let go of your anger? Take it out on me, I'm used to it.” 

“Nat, stop.” When it's clear you’re not going to yell at her, shove her or degrade her she pushes you further. She shoves your shoulder lightly the first time then again with more force that sends you stumbling into your dresser. Natasha stalks towards you slowly cornering you against the cherry wood. “You sure you don’t want to hit me? Smack me around a bit?” her jaw is clenched tight, her eyes are glossy but the tears remain concealed in her eyes. “I can’t take it, hit me.”

“Nat.” Your frustration grows, and the more you soak in what’s happening in front of you, the more you hate Alexei. You hate him for making her this way. 

“Hit me.” She stares at you baring teeth in an animalistic way. Invading your personal space as she moves closer, her lips just a mere centimeter way from yours.

“No!” You're firm in your answer not holding back your emotion behind it either, but that only riles Natasha up even more.

“Coward.” you roll your eyes at this. You couldn't believe what you were witnessing right now. Your girlfriend needed some serious and immediate therapy. “If that makes me a coward then so be it, but like I said before I’’ll never be okay with seeing you hurt. I’ll never be okay with anyone hurting you, that includes me.” Your response catches her off guard but she maintains her composure, not giving anything away. You’ve had enough, you reached the end of your breaking point. Natasha pushed too far, as much as you want to unpack what just happened just now you can't. The fact that she thought provoking you into hitting her would make things better because she’s used to it is all you need to see. You wont allow yourself to coddle her, for the first time ever. “Get out, I’m not doing this with you.” 

Her eyes scan you over, waiting to see if you were luffing. Your stone cold, unwavering and upset. It's when you attempt to move from your spot against the dresser that has Natasha making the first move. She slams her lips against yours with desperation. You are still upset , you don't want to be kissing her, you don't like that she can pull you back in after pulling a stunt like this, but you can’t ignore it. You’re never really strong enough to stay away from her for too long anyway. “I didn’t mean-” this time you’re the one to cut the conversation short. As much as you didn’t want her to trauma dump on you, you were still going to consider the fact that she did share with you in a weird twisted way.  “Shut up.” you cup her face pulling her back into the kiss. Her movements are quick, hands moving naturally against your body. You release a soft moan, as Natasha continues her trail beneath the waistband of your jeans. “Nat, your ribs.”

“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it after. You’re more important.” You don't get the chance to protest against her selflessness. “Nat what if-” her hand slams against your mouth, cutting off any excuse you were trying to give her. She wasn't interested in hearing it. Truth be told she's using this as an excuse herself to let out her own previous frustrations, it is not entirely about an angry voicemail you left. “I. don’t. fucking. care.” Each word ends with a deep thrust. your eyes widen, you clench around her fingers. She’s moving more quickly than usual. Her movements still have the same impact under these circumstances. She's focused on your body and how you’re reacting and nothing else. Everything else is white noise. Your moan is muffled, your throat is burning with restraint. “What was that?” 

“I Can’t hear you baby, speak up.” She kisses your cheek and drags her lips against your skin towards your earlobe. “Look at you, leaking down my hand.” For a quick moment she looks down at the mess you’ve made all over her fingertips. The sight

“Am I a lying piece of shit?” you quickly shake your head, denying your own words. A condescending pout makes ”Say you’re sorry.” she removes her hand from your mouth, basically snatching it away. “Im- fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You were worried about me?” it's not a soft moment, she’s teasing you. Almost as if she's making fun of you for having human emotions, something she doesn't really seem to have. It doesn't phase you, you're used to it. The question was rhetorical, she knows you were. You’re always worried about her. This was for her own ears to hear. To hear that she mattered beyond being an attack dog or used as a pawn. Natasha kisses you softly this time, a change of emotion. “Cum for me.” Natasha's pace picks up, she flexes her muscles until they burn. She doesn’t care, she just wants to please you right now, she wants to feel your want and need for her. It sends you over the edge, your walls clench with desperation against Natasha's nimble fingers, you grip her hand pausing her further movements of trying to drag you through another round. She pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against yours waiting for you to catch your breath. 

“I’m not trying to fuck this up y/n.” it was a form of an apology and once again you would accept it. You nod slowly letting her words sink in. “I know, and I know you’ll probably never talk to me about it in detail, but just know you can. You don’t have to keep it bottled up inside and you don’t have to provoke me to release your frustrations.” her only response is to kiss you. Kiss you hard. The sudden movement of her pulling away from you in pain raised alarms in your mind. 

“Natasha, what’s wrong?” She’s clenching her side groaning in pain.you knew you should've done more to stop her. The untreated wounds are clearly more than what they seem.

Natasha starts coughing relentlessly, causing immediate concern especially when you’ve noticed the blood in the palm of her hand. “Natasha, get your shoes on now I’m taking you to the hospital.” She pulls away from you and shakes her head. “No, I’m-“ You cut her off, not letting the same words come out of her mouth. You’re sick of hearing it. “I swear if you finish that sentence.” You don’t want all the progress she’s made to be for nothing but you also want her to make the right choice. “They’ll ask questions and I’m not in the mood to play family feud.” 

“What about Melina?” Natasha releases a heavy sigh and shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to see her either.” Now you’re really curious to know what happened. If Natasha doesn’t want help from her mother something major occurred at that house. You might have to badger Yelena about it later; she can never keep things away from you like her sister can. “Okay then, I know someone who can help.” You nervously bite your lip anxiously as you gather yourself for the potential response she could give you just from hearing one name. “Who?” She leans towards her left side placing all the weight of her body on her leg. She grunts slowly, still trying to contain her pain level and it fails, it fails miserably in your watchful gaze. “Val.” Natasha’s eyes snapped at you, anger was beyond describing her expression right now. She growls through her clenched jaw, baring her teeth like some type of wildlife animal on a hunt or protecting its own. You won’t like a possessive and feral Natasha was always a win for you but this comes down to life or death, especially with how stubborn she is. You’d drag her down the front steps all the way to Valkyrie’s private medical facility she’s interning at without a care in the world about the nasty and insulting things she’d throw at you. 

“No fucking way, I’d rather bleed out.” Natasha says flatly, there is no smirk, grin or playful tone to her response. She was being serious, a bit dramatic but nonetheless serious. “Don’t say shit like that asshole. You need medical attention and since you don’t want that on record this is the way we have to go…unless you want to tell me why you don't want your own mother to help.” Natasha contemplates on her choices, she really hates Valkyrie but in this instance she really didn’t want to see her mother. Natasha grumbles as she moves away to put her boots and jacket back on. You take the actions as her accepting defeat, you move around the room to put your shoes on and grab your keys. As you move to open your door Natasha places a quick and firm hand against yours. “What are you doing?” she raises an eyebrow at your actions. “I’m opening the door?” you mirror her same expression clearly not understanding what the problem was.

“You want me to walk out the front door? You would think you're the one internally bleeding right now.” 

“Are you seriously gonna go out the window again?” Now you understand, but you won’t waste this opportunity to tease her like she did to you. “Oh, look who's scared now?” Your grin is enough to pull an unamused frown on Natasha’s face. With the possibility of your father being home and the injuries, she’s facing, Natasha would only slow you down. Ultimately leading to another brawl between her and your father, she barely has enough energy to stand on her own right now. She's truly indulging the pain. Natasha didn't want to risk it. Is it stupid, dumb and carless to go out of a window and climb down the side of a balcony? Yes, but it's what she has to do.

“Shut up and grab me a snack from the kitchen on your way out.” Natasha gives you a quick peck, steps away from you and heads towards the window. Your girlfriend is an asshole but she's your asshole and, in the night, when you get to hold her again the arguments you two had today will mean nothing, as long as she's safe in your arms. you'll care for her; you'll love her in the night.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hiii

so idk if your requests are open but could you please write some hcs about clayton Beresford as a husband and dad

Thank youuu ❤️

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

HUSBAND/DAD!CLAY HEADCANONS

TW: at some point it contains filthy, crazy sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Author's note: of course my requests are open! I just LOVE seeing notification from my inbox, so thank you very much <3 hope you like it

MARRIAGE

Clayton Beresford who after two delightful years of your relationship proposed to you. He took you to the fancy restaurant, and since it was something you did often, you hadn't have any suspicious. But have you thought about marrying him? Of course, yet, you wanted to give him time. You knew how his earlier marriage ended so it'd be out of your character to even suggest him taking your relationship to another level. But the ring you got was out of your wildest dreams - 4 carat round cut diamond ring that seemed to shine more than every star in the sky

Clayton Beresford who got even more all-about-you after wedding. Even more love making with no care in the world, long honeymoon, even more spent time together just more everything

Clayton Beresford who, despite his demanding job, always makes time for you. He’s the type of husband who will surprise you with small gestures; like leaving sweet notes in your purse or sending you flowers (mostly to your workplace) randomly just to remind you that he’s thinking of you.

Clayton Beresford who loves planning spontaneous weekend trips to your favorite places. Whether it’s a cozy cabin in the mountains or a luxury hotel in the city, Clayton enjoys these escapes to focus solely on you without any distractions.

Clayton Beresford who's big on surprises. He might book a last-minute trip to Paris (or any place on earth), arrange for a private dinner on the rooftop of the restaurant's building or just in the place you'd not be able to pay by yourself. Or buy you that piece of jewelry you casually mentioned months ago.

Clayton Beresford who has a strong protective instinct. He always ensures you’re safe, and anyone who might pose a threat to you or your happiness would have to face his wrath.

Clayton Beresford who depended on you doing the grocery shopping since he had never done that before (however after a few times he gained knowledge);

Clay glanced away for just a second, but when he looked back, you were gone. His brow furrowed as he scanned the immediate area, stepping away from the cart to see if you had wandered behind another display. But there was no sign of you.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in as he quickened his pace, determined not to lose you. Not in this place.

He began weaving through the aisles, his eyes darting around in search of you, listening intently for any sound that might be your voice. But the supermarket was huge, and the weekend crowd made it even more overwhelming.

With a groan of annoyance, Clay pressed on, moving faster now, his heart racing a little at the thought of losing you in this sea of people. Then, suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of you between rushing people. A glimmer of hope flickered in his chest as he turned sharply toward the sound.

You were standing by the dairy section, casually chatting on the phone as you picked up items. Relief washed over him, and he silently thanked whatever forces led him to find you.

Like a lost puppy or a child who had been separated from their parent, he hurried over to you, his earlier frustration melting into a quiet sense of relief.

Reaching for a carton of milk, you sensed someone close behind you. Turning around, you found Clay standing there, his expression a mix of worry and boyish vulnerability that made you smile. It was as if he had been a little kid lost in a big mall again.

You handed him the shopping list, tapping the line where it said 'bananas' with a knowing look.

Clay accepted the list with a determined nod. He was a grown man—he could handle picking up some bananas.

But when he reached the produce section, his confidence wavered as he stared at the six different types of bananas on display, his frown deepening in confusion.

It was supposed to be a simple task: grab the bananas and return to you. Yet here he was, staring at the display like they were some exotic species he had never encountered.

He didn't recognize any of the types, and he had no clue which one you wanted. So, with a loosing sigh, he carefully picked a bunch of yellow bananas, added some mini ones, and then tossed in a few green ones for good measure. Feeling a bit more confident, he placed them all in the cart and made his way back to you. A small, proud smirk forming on his lips as he approached.

“I got them,” he announced, a hint of pride in his voice as if he had just completed a great feat.

You glanced down at the cart, noticing the remarkable assortment. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked back at him. "Baby, but... they're all different kinds."

His smirk faded slightly as a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. He glanced at the cart, then back at you “I know,” he admitted, his voice soft and a bit self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted, so I just… grabbed a few to be safe.”

Your heart melted at his effort, and you stood on your toes to press a tender kiss to his cheek. "C'mon, we'll figure out these bananas together."

His cheeks flushed a deeper red at your affectionate gesture, and he looked down at you with warm, loving eyes, a shy smile curving his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured, feeling content as he started pushing the cart again, this time with you walking beside him.

PREGNANCY

Clayton Beresford who was shocked yet thrilled when he found out you're pregnant. He was always gentle with you but from that day he got on another level of doing everything in his power to make sure you're safe, happy and comfortable

Clayton Beresford who seemed to be hypnotized by your changing body (so obviously loved to have his hands on it, and you loved when he did)

Clayton Beresford who had to deal with your neediness for attention/affection;

"Baby, I'm already late. You know I can't stay longer," he sighs, slipping on his black cloak, the fabric rustling as he moves with familiar urgency.

"Are you sure you can't stay just a little longer?" you pout, leaning against the doorframe of your mudroom

He chuckles softly and walks over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest "Baby, I'd love nothing more than to stay," he murmurs "But…" he sighs again, the weight of responsibility heavy in his voice, "you know I can't be late twice in a row."

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his muscles firm against your softer frame. The warmth of his embrace makes you want to hold onto him just a little longer.

"But I thought you'd make love to me all morning," you tease, your voice soft and playful "and then spoil me with a big breakfast."

His eyes softened after his large hands roam over to cup your pregnant belly, his fingers gently tracing over the curve "That was the original plan," his lips formed into a knowing smirk. His hands linger on your body, as if memorizing every inch before he has to let go. "But you know I've got to go to work…"

"But what if the baby comes out while you're not here?" you pout, feeling the warmth of his knuckles as they gently trace over your swollen belly.

He chuckles softly at your worry, his lips curling into a reassuring smile. He steps back slightly, his hands slipping from your waist to admire the sight of your pregnant form. "Babe, we've talked about this. The baby's not coming today," he says with a confident grin, glancing down at your round belly before meeting your concerned gaze.

"Yeah... right," you mumble, still not entirely convinced.

He can't help but smirk at how endearingly moody you are, especially when you pout like that. With a gentle touch, he wraps his fingers around your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking directly into his smiling eyes. "Don't give me that look," he murmurs softly, his voice filled with warmth as he leans in closer, his breath brushing against your lips.

"I'm gonna miss you," you whisper, your voice barely audible as the reality of his departure sinks in.

His gaze locks onto your big, sparkling eyes as he gently cups your cheeks. "I'm going to miss you too, baby. But I have to go to work," he murmurs with a tender smile, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips once more.

"I love you, you know," your voice lingering, trying to stretch out the moment just a little longer.

His smile deepens, touched by your efforts to keep him close, but he's all too aware of the ticking clock. "I love you too, more than anything. But if I don't leave now, I'll be late for a meeting with the board... and I can't afford to do that again," his tone a mix of regret and urgency as he gives you a sympathetic look, hoping you understand.

"But you're their boss," you protest softly, a pout forming on your lips.

He sighs, knowing that leaving without giving you something special will likely leave you moody for the rest of the day. Even though he’s pressed for time, he quickly pivots. "How about I give you a kiss for the road?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes as he shifts the mood.

"Okay," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He smiles back, his hand finding its way to your cheek once more, tenderly cradling your face. He pauses, taking a moment to get lost in your sparkling blue eyes, savoring the connection before slowly closing his own and leaning in. His lips meet yours in a slow, loving kiss

Clayton Beresford who makes sure to lift up your pregnancy mood;

His heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked face. Instantly, worry fills his eyes and he kneels beside you, his voice soft and full of concern. "Baby, what’s wrong?" He gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, urging you to meet his gaze.

"I feel so huge..." you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

"Baby, you know I love every part of you. Nothing could ever change that," he says tenderly, his words full of sincerity.

But your insecurities linger, and you turn to him, searching his face. "So you think I’m huge?" you ask, misinterpreting his silence as agreement.

He sighs again, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable you are right now. Quickly, he tries to soothe your worries before they spiral. "No, no, love..." he insists, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the traces of your tears. "You’re not huge, you’re beautiful."

You glance down at your growing belly, frustration evident in your voice. "I barely fit into my pants."

He smiles softly, his gaze never leaving yours, understanding the deep-seated concerns you have about your changing body. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "But that’s just because of the incredible little life you’re carrying."

"You look absolutely radiant when you’re pregnant," he adds, his words filled with admiration, careful not to say anything that might upset you further.

"Yeah?" you sniffle, your voice small and uncertain.

He nods slowly, his eyes locked onto yours, full of love and reassurance. "Yeah, baby," he repeats softly. "You’re glowing, and you’re absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you, pregnant or not."

"But what if after I push the baby out, I still look pregnant? And... and I have all these marks, and my body doesn’t go back to the way it was? And you'll leave me?"

His heart aches as he listens to your fears, unable to bear hearing you doubt the body he cherishes so deeply. "No, no, no, shhh, baby, no..." he murmurs urgently, his voice soothing as he tries to calm your spiraling thoughts. "I would never, ever leave you for that. My love for you knows no limits, nothing could change that."

His hands continue to tenderly stroke your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he speaks. "I love you so much, sweetheart. The marks on your body from carrying our beautiful child—they'll only make me love you and your body even more."

"Yeah?" you sniffle, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

his eyes filled with admiration and love as he nods "Yeah, baby. Because those marks are proof of your incredible strength, of the life you’ve nurtured for nine months.. and only an absolute goddess could manage that"

Clayton Beresford who every day remaided you how beautiful you are, what a treasure you are in his life that nothing could replace

Clayton Beresford who got more cuddly with you;

"Look at that… he’s a little boxer" his lips curved up as he felt the baby’s tiny movements beneath his fingertips. His voice was filled with awe, and there was a boyish excitement in his eyes that made you smile.

"He?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced up from your book. "How do you know it’s a boy?"

He shrugged, but the cheeky grin that spread across his features betrayed the certainty in his heart. He leaned closer, letting his chin rest on your bump. His touch was gentle, almost tingly at times while his long fingers made sure to memorize the path over your swollen skin

"Father’s instincts," he whispered

"Oh? Didn’t know you had those," you chuckled, your fingers threading through his tousled curls. There was something endearing about how intensely focused he was on your belly - his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched for more signs of the baby’s movements.

Clay still kept his, this time less wider, smile over his lips. He seemed to calm down under not only your touch but the feeling of your belly with his child right in his reach and right before his eyes. He shifted slightly, pressing his lips gently against your tummy. His lips lingered for a little longer, his expression changing to more surprised;

"Hush," he murmured softly, his hand stilling when he found the spot where the baby seemed to be resting. "I can sense him…"

Yet, the baby had quieted, and clay's lips formed into a pout. The frustration knitting his brows before he nuzzled to your belly "Can’t you encourage him to kick or something? I want to know that he’s alive…" he mumbled, his voice laced with a mix of concern and childish impatience (that you rarely saw before)

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his earnestness. "Clay, how am I supposed to encourage him? Maybe he’s sleeping."

He groaned softly, looking up at you with those soulful eyes, making it impossible not to find him utterly endearing. He looked like a grumpy child who hadn’t received the attention he thought he deserved and it was both cute and hilarious

"Well, I don’t know," he muttered, his hand still drawing small circles on your belly. "Talk to him? Tell him how cool I am… maybe he’ll be excited then and want to say hi."

You rolled your eyes playfully, still stroking his curls. "Baby, don’t be ridiculous… he's probably sleeping."

He huffed in response, still pouting but clearly knowing you were right. The baby was just asleep, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Still, the idea of his child not acknowledging his presence seemed to tug at something deep within him.

"I just want him to know that I’m here too," he mumbled

You smiled down at him, your voice soothing as you reassured him. "I bet he does, clay."

"Just imagine how cute he’s gonna be," clay mused, his voice softening as he let himself drift into the fantasy of fatherhood. "A baby version of me, running around, being a menace to everyone…"

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What if it’s a girl?"

His hand paused for a moment, the weight of the thought catching him off guard. For a few seconds, his expression was blank as he processed the idea of having a daughter. Then, slowly, his usual cocky grin reappeared, but with a touch of tenderness that hadn’t been there before.

"A baby girl," he echoed, as if trying out the words. "She could get your looks, though. I wouldn’t mind that. The second most beautiful girl in the world… and daddy’s little princess."

Just then, he felt a light flutter beneath his palm. His eyes widened in surprise, lighting up like a child on Christmas morning, the pout completely erased by a wide grin "There you are…"

The baby seemed to respond to his voice, shifting slightly as if acknowledging his father’s presence. He continued to rub gently over your belly, his touch loving and protective, showering the area with soft kisses.

"Already responding to me," he whispered, a wave of satisfaction washing over him as he felt the tiny movements beneath his hands. "Smart baby…"

clayton continued to soothe your belly, his hands and lips moving in a calming rhythm until the baby settled back into stillness. Even as the baby quieted, he wasn’t ready to let go. He lingered, enjoying the feeling of being close to both of you, his heart full and content.

"Guess he’s asleep again…" he said softly, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Or maybe he’s just tired of you," you teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

His eyes widened in mock offense, his pout returning as he looked up at you, clearly not appreciating the joke. "Very funny," he grumbled, his frown deepening. "I am the most interesting person this baby will ever meet—"

But despite his grumbling, you could see the love and excitement in his eyes, the way he couldn’t wait to meet the little life growing inside you. And you knew, without a doubt, that he would be the best father this baby could ever ask for.

Clayton Beresford who spoiled you way more during your pregnancy. More presents without occasion, more affection, more cuddles, just more everything there was to give

Clayton Beresford who was there on most of your doctor appointments. If he had a busy schedule, which happened often, he then couldn't appear (but you didn't mind, since it was just doctor appointment to check on your and the child's health, nothing more so much important for him to be there everytime)

Clayton Beresford who was obsessed with making love to you during your pregnancy;

"youre-youre so big--" you mewl underneath him

"I am, aren't I?" he panted, his hands gripping your plump hips tightly. "And you're so fucking tight, sweetheart." His words spurred him on, pushing deeper inside you to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

your eyes barely could keep themselves open from the sensation of having him again in your hole. Who would have known that your pregnancy hormones would make you so horny you would cry to Clayton about it. And him, being such a generous gentleman who loved his wife with all his being, how could just leave you like that? When you sobbed, begged for his touch

"Don't close your eyes," he commanded softly "Open them. Let me see the look on your face when I'm inside you."

your eyes reluctantly opened, at least they lingered between half opened and half closed. A moan rumbled through your throat as you took in the sight of his muscles that ripped whenever his hold grew too much

"That's it," he panted, his eyes locked onto yours. "Let me hear you." Clayton's breath hitched as he felt her body tremble beneath him. The way you moaned and your completely swollen breasts jingled with each thrust was driving him wild. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he warned you, picking up the pace even more.

PARENTHOOD

Clayton Beresford who was there for you for the whole childbirth. Encouraging you, giving you support, etc. He'd insist you'd hold the baby first, not him. And before he'd even hold the newborn, he'd make sure you're all safe and everything's okay;

After making sure you held the newborn first and you were all okay, he had time to take the baby close to his chest, his large, strong arms cradling the fragile newborn bundle with a tenderness that belied his powerful frame. The baby’s skin was a delicate shade of pink, still wrinkled from the birth, and Clay couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming surge of emotion as he gazed down at the tiny life nestled against him. The baby was so small, so impossibly vulnerable, and it made something deep within him tremble and break.

Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as he gently stroked the baby’s cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was feather-light, his fingertips barely brushing the baby’s soft, downy skin and his hand looked enormous in comparison to the baby’s minuscule features.

“He’s so small…” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His throat tightened as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Are you crying?” you asked softly, a tired smile playing on your lips as you rested after the long and exhausting delivery

He glanced up at you and he felt a single tear escape and trail down his cheek “…No—yes… maybe…” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He quickly wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, but it was clear that his composure was unraveling. He returned his gaze to the baby in his arms, his expression softening as he ran a gentle finger over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at how delicate and perfect it was.

When the newborn's hand wrapped around clay's finger, he felt like his new heart might explode from overwhelming feeling. It was so cute, the baby’s grip firm and warm

“He’s holding my finger…” he murmured, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered awe

The baby continued to cling to his finger, his tiny hand gripping the large digit with a determination that was both heartwarming and humbling. Clay smiled through tears and a mixture of pride and amazement shined in his eyes as he gently caressed the baby’s hand, utterly mesmerized by the strength in such a small being.

“Such a tight grip… I’ve already created a little warrior,” he mused with a soft chuckle, his voice laced with pride. He looked down at his son, his heart brimming with a love so profound it was almost overwhelming. “You’re going to be strong, just like your momma” he added, his tone filled with admiration.

“…You have your momma’s eyes, you know?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as a fresh wave of emotion washed over him. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but also something deeper, something reverent. The sight of those eyes, so familiar and yet so new, made him feel as though he was looking at a piece of you—a part of the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy.

As if sensing the weight of the moment, the baby cooed softly, his tiny body wriggling uncomfortably against the confines of the blanket. You watched the first interaction between your husband and your child and it was the most endearing thing you experience. Delivery was hard, damn it hurt like hell, as if devil himself teared your insides but as soon as the baby was out, all the pain was forgotten

“You don’t like that, huh?” he murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he gently traced soothing circles over the baby’s cheek “I don’t blame you… I’d hate being swaddled too.”

Clayton Beresford who is the kind of dad who’s always one step ahead when it comes to the safety and well-being of your children. He’s vigilant about who they spend time with and ensures they grow up in the safest environment possible.

Clayton Beresford who, despite his often serious demeanor, has a major soft spot when it comes to his children. He’s not afraid to get down on the floor and play with them, and he’ll often indulge them in things other might not—like staying up a bit past bedtime for just one more story.

Clayton Beresford who enjoys spoiling his kids, whether it’s with the latest toys, gadgets, or extravagant birthday parties. However, he’s careful to balance this with teaching them the importance of gratitude and not taking things for granted.

Clayton Beresford who, if you have a daughter, is wrapped around her little finger. He’s the type of dad who will attend tea parties, help with ballet practice, and learn how to braid hair just to make her happy;

"Hold on, baby, I'm almost finished," he murmured, his voice a soft yet deep rumble as he focused on working his fingers through the strands of your daughter's hair.

"Maybe we should just ask Mommy," she whispered, her small voice carrying a hint of doubt.

"No, no," he shook his head gently, a determined glint in his eye. "We don’t need Mommy for a braid. Daddy can do it just fine."

Clay's fingers moved clumsily but with care, tugging her hair a bit too tightly at times. His brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully looped the strands together.

"But Mommy always likes to help," she insisted, her tone hopeful.

"Daddy likes to help too," he replied, his voice tender but resolute, wanting to prove himself to his little girl.

He paused for a moment, examining his work with a critical eye. The braid was far from perfect—slightly uneven and a little messy, held together by a hairband that seemed to be doing more of the work than the braid itself. But as he looked at it, a small, proud smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"See? Not so bad, huh?"

Clayton Beresford who is big on teaching his children responsibility from a young age.

Clayton Beresford who made sure to pay attention to your kids after he came back from work. Even if he was extremely tired, he'd rather fall asleep with your baby boy in his arms than leaving you alone to deal with the children

Clayton Beresford who found you as his inspiration. You, with kids most of the time, still having energy to take care of him and the house. So, as soon as he changed his clothes after work, he replaced you in duties so you'd have your alone time.

Clayton Beresford who, if you had a son, played all the games the boy wanted. Like toys where the boy came up with some plot, plastic cars, playgrounds outside;

Clay sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks into a tall tower while his son sat comfortably on his lap, his tiny hands occasionally reaching out to help—or hinder.

"What do you want to eat?" you asked softly from the kitchen doorway, watching the two with a fond smile.

Clay glanced up at you, a playful gleam in his eye. "You?" he teased, genuinely curious about your preference.

But before he could say more, the boy clumsily knocked over the tower with an excited shove, sending the blocks tumbling in all directions.

“Hey! You just destroyed Daddy’s masterpiece,” Clay said in mock offense, though his voice carried a warm, playful tone. He looked down at him, who was dissolving into giggles, his face scrunched up in pure joy.

"Well, I was thinking pasta... I'm really craving it," you said, your giggles mingling with theirs.

Clay's heart swelled as he watched you enjoy the moment just as much as he was. Turning back to the toddler, he gently poked his son’s side, earning more bubbly laughter from the little boy. “We don’t normally allow such behavior in the tower-building world,” he joked, his tone still light before turning his gaze to you "But pasta sounds good tho.."

With a grin, Clay stood up from the carpeted floor, scooping the boy up by his armpits and swinging him side to side, much to the toddler’s delight. "C'mon, you little silly guy, let's go help Mommy with dinner,"

Clayton Beresford who, no matter what interests or hobbies your kids have, is fully supportive. He’ll invest in lessons, equipment, or anything else they need to pursue their passions, always encouraging them to follow their dreams.

Clayton Beresford who, no matter how busy his life gets, always prioritizes family. He ensures that you and the kids know that you’re his number one priority, making time for family dinners, vacations, and just spending quality time together.

Clayton Beresford who propritazed your time together. His kids were important but you were more important. So, regularly he hired a babysitter (a trusted one), and took you out on dates (or on a vacation but then your parents took care of the children) so you could focus on each other and on the bond you share without screaming kids

Clayton Beresford ho didn't mind making you pregnant again (if you even wanted to be pregnant again);

"Fill this beautiful cunt with my seed once more?" He growled, plunging back into you with a single powerful thrust that made you both cry out in pleasure "you want that love? Be pregnant again?"

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune (sad about her not being her anymore..) @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @fuckmyskywalker @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[p0orbaby]

Far Too Gone for a Tuesday

summary: maybe you like jealous leah

warnings: jealousy obvs, some steamy stuff but nothing graphic

a/n: all thanks to this request !

word count: 1.4k

-

The evening air bubbles with the hum of laughter and conversation, lights casting a warm glow across the garden where you stand, half-listening to someone drone on about their latest holiday. You’re at one of those events, the kind you attend out of obligation more than desire.

A sprawling affair hosted by someone with too much money and too little sense. The atmosphere is as bloated and gaudy as the host's ego, with silk-draped tables groaning under the weight of excessive floral arrangements and waitstaff circulating with trays of canapés so pretentious you can hardly even pronounce the ingredients.

Leah’s somewhere nearby, you know that much. You spotted her a few minutes ago, deep in conversation with a couple of her teammates. Your eyes flick over to her now and then, a subconscious tether that keeps pulling you back.

The sight of her, standing tall and confident, is a small comfort in the swirl of pretension and forced smiles. She’s laughing at something, her head tilted back slightly, the elegant line of her throat catching the light. It’s a beautiful sight, and you wish you were over there with her instead of enduring the banal chatter of your current company.

“-and the water was just so blue, you wouldn’t believe it,” the man in front of you says, leaning in closer. Too close. You can smell the faint trace of whiskey on his breath, mingling with a cologne that’s a bit too strong. His eyes are on you, intent, and there’s a smirk playing on his lips that makes your skin crawl.

He’s the type of man who thinks his wealth and status entitle him to anything, or anyone, he desires. His gaze is an inventory, cataloging parts of you as if you’re a commodity. Something he can pursue.

You laugh, a little too brightly, taking a half-step back. “Sounds amazing,” you say, hoping the conversation will fizzle out soon. But he doesn’t take the hint. His smirk widens, mistaking your politeness for interest.

“You know,” he says, lowering his voice, “I could take you there sometime. Show you the sights.” His hand hovers near your arm, fingers itching to close the gap, to claim territory he assumes is up for grabs. There’s a calculated sleaze in his tone, the kind that comes from too many years of getting what he wants.

You glance around, looking for an escape. And that’s when you see her. Leah’s eyes are on you, and there’s a hardness there that makes your breath catch. She’s seen the whole thing, and she’s not pleased. The muscles in her jaw are tight, and her posture has shifted, less casual now, coiled and ready.

Before you can react, she’s striding over, her movements purposeful and confident. The man is still talking, oblivious to the storm heading his way. Leah’s presence is practically a force field as she steps into the space between you and the man with a possessiveness that’s both protective and territorial.

“Hey,” Leah says, her voice cool but with an edge sharp enough to cut. She slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Her touch is possessive, grounding. “Everything alright here?” Her eyes never leave the man’s face, daring him to challenge her claim.

The man blinks, taken aback. He looks between the two of you, a frown forming. “Yeah, we were just talking.” His bravado falters in the face of Leah’s unyielding stare.

Leah’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Were you?” she asks, her tone leaving no room for doubt about what she thinks of that. “Because it looked like you were doing more than just talking.” Her fingers press into your side, a silent reassurance and a clear signal of ownership.

There’s a moment of tense silence, and you can almost feel the heat of Leah’s anger radiating off her. The man finally seems to get the message, raising his hands in embarrassed surrender. “No harm meant,” he mutters before slinking away, his earlier confidence thoroughly deflated.

Leah’s arm stays around you, her grip firm. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, her voice softening only for you. You nod, relieved, and let her lead you through the crowd. As you walk away, you feel the weight of her possessiveness, a comforting anchor in the midst of the evening’s shallow frivolities.

The drive home is quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. Leah’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, her jaw set. Her knuckles are white, gripping the wheel as if it’s the only thing keeping her from blowing her top. The dim glow of passing street lights illuminates her face in fleeting intervals, casting ridged shadows that highlight the building fire in her eyes.

You glance at her, a hefty combination of guilt and gratitude swirling in your chest. You didn’t ask for the attention, but you can’t deny that part of you is glad for Leah’s reaction. It’s a reminder of the intensity of her feelings for you, a silent declaration of how fiercely she cares.

Outside, the city slips by, a blur of lights and dark shapes. Inside the car, the silence is almost oppressive, filled with the things neither of you are saying. Leah’s jaw ticks, a muscle jumping in the tightness of her clenched teeth. Her eyes remain fixed on the road, but you can feel the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. You reach out, a tentative touch on her arm, and she softens, just a fraction, a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

As soon as you’re inside, the door barely clicks shut before Leah’s on you, her hands cupping your face, her lips crashing onto yours with a desperate hunger. It’s a kiss that’s both an apology and a reminder, an outlet for the emotions she’s been holding back. You kiss back, matching her pace, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, needing to feel her against you.

“Mine,” she mutters against your lips, and it’s not a question. It’s a declaration, a statement of fact that brooks no argument. You nod, breathless, feeling the possessiveness in the way she touches you, the way she consumes you. Her kisses trail down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, marking you in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s primal, instinctual, a need to brand you as hers.

She pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes, her own dark with desire and something more primal. “You’re mine,” she repeats, her voice a low growl. You nod again, unable to form words, lost in the heat of her gaze. There’s a fierceness there, a raw intensity that both thrills and terrifies you.

The night becomes a blur of sensations, Leah’s hands and lips everywhere, a constant reminder of her claim on you. She’s relentless, her jealousy fueling a passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more. Every touch, every kiss is a promise, a reaffirmation of what you mean to her. Her hands are possessive, her touch demanding, and you respond in kind, giving yourself over to her completely.

She presses you against the wall, then a door, then the mattress. Her hands sliding under your shirt, fingertips skimming over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, needing more, needing her. Her lips find yours again, and it’s a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate strife over authority that she wins effortlessly.

When it’s over, you lie tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat, your breathing heavy. Leah’s arms are around you, holding you close, as if she’s afraid to let go. You nestle into her, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your cheek. It’s a soothing rhythm, a reminder that she’s here, that she’s yours.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, her voice rough with emotion. “I just… I couldn’t stand seeing him all over you like that.” There’s vulnerability in her words, a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

You lift your head to meet her eyes, your fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “Don’t be sorry,” you say softly. “I’m yours, Leah. Only yours.” You mean it, every word, and you hope she can see the truth in your eyes.

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Good,” she says, pulling you even closer. “Because I’m never letting you go.” There’s a promise in her words, a vow that you know she’ll keep.

And you believe her.

[shirefantasies]

How the Fellowship Act Around Their Crush (GN!Reader)

Hello friends! Kicking off my blog with some cute headcanons for my favorite people- hope you enjoy 😄

Aragorn

✧ One of the least obvious for sure 😅 we love a strong silent type but unfortunately that means you’ll have to be reading in on his actions

✧ Checks in on you a lot, just making sure you’re feeling alright and not hiding any burdens because he wants to carry those.

✧ Teaches you all he knows about the world’s botany when he notices your curiosity, pointing out what plants are poisonous, which the elves use for healing, and which can be made into tea. Snags a few to make you said tea at the earliest convenience 😌

✧ Will be the one to drape his cloak over you if you get cold. Not the type to stop others from doing it, but boy will he be the fastest by far!

✧ Has the habit of letting his fingers linger over yours just a bit longer than necessary when he hands things off to you or presses small items into your hands.

✧ Is the best with his words. He’ll reassure you if you feel insecure that you have a strength and beauty you bring to this world that no one else does, that the time you are in does not define you as a whole, that all have roles to play here.

Legolas

✧ Least obvious part 2! Another who is more silent about things…at least at first! If you understand Elvish, you may catch him searching for advice from Aragorn on if he should speak of it or not.

✧ Almost always defers to your word/opinion whether it’s where to stop or simply how you’d like to spend the rest of the evening.

✧ Shows off just a smidge 🤏🏻 when he knows you’re looking, like no, he doesn’t have to impale three orcs with the same arrow three different ways but did you think it was cool? Then yes he did. Still his face colors with surprised, joy, and amusement when you react with awe.

✧ “Wow, beautiful,” you breathe as your eyes scan the stars, glittering constellations and distant galaxies winking above you. “Indeed,” Legolas responds softly, but if you happen to peer at him from the peripheries of your vision at just the right time you’ll see the glance he surreptitiously slides to you.

✧ Holds open every door for you, slides back every chair, serves you at every meal, like this prince is peak gentleman and nothing less!

✧ Whispers joking observations about the rest of the fellowship, especially Gimli, that he usually keeps to himself into your ear as you sit together during mealtimes. This creates a whole slew of inside jokes between you two and much confusion over what you could possibly be laughing at.

Boromir

✧ Not over-the-top, but he figures what’s the point if you never figure anything out? Definitely wants to drop hints for you 😌

✧ Places a kiss to the back of your hand when he first meets you, telling you it is truly an honor.

✧ “Here, allow me,” he’ll say as he gently takes whatever burden you bear whether it’s bundles of firewood or even your bag on a particular rough day of travel.

✧ Happily shares tales of Gondor’s splendor with you and insists he’ll take you there and show you himself someday. Asks in turn for stories of your home and all your favorite things about it. Even if he can never visit, Boromir is determined to find a way to bring a piece of your home to you someday- anything to make you feel like you’re there again.

✧ Offers you his arm when you two walk side-by-side, guiding you with a firm, warm grip that keeps you feeling secure.

✧ Always places himself between you and danger, stepping in front of you with his sword and shield in hands and even shifting you back with a hand upon your waist.

Gimli

✧ You’re going to figure it out pretty quickly. He’e comically vocal as we all know, but also incredibly smooth when he wants to be…and boy does he want to be 👀

✧ Drops a lot of hints about how dwarves are the warmest, heartiest lovers and best providing partners! “We’ve the grandest of halls and sturdiest of bodies, after all!”

✧ Literally always has your back, like he is more aware of any threats to you than you are. It’s nearly impossible to count how many times he’s slashed an orc you hadn’t even seen off your back, giving you a triumphant nod and an “Anytime, Lassie/Laddie!”

✧ Laughs at every single joke you tell so hard you can’t help but puff up in pride at your sense of humor, nudging your shoulder with his.

✧ “Oh, stay still, you��ve got something in your hair…” Proceeds to remove it in the most tender and intimate manner you’ve ever experienced.

✧ Asks you to look him in the eyes before a big fight because, in his words, if that’s the last thing he looks upon before going out it’ll all be worth it.

Frodo

✧ Has no idea what he is doing honestly. Has never felt this way before and wasn’t sure if he ever would, so his demeanor around you suddenly becomes shy, almost withdrawn.

✧ Your self-appointed nurse. Tends your wounds silently but with the most caring, gentle touch and gaze fluttering back and forth between your wound and your expression with those big blue eyes.

✧ Goes on walks every now and again when everybody’s camped. After a while of seeing you watch him off, Frodo plucks up the courage to invite you to join him on one.

✧ Embarrassed as he is at first, he is encouraged by your eager eyes when you ask what he’s reading, shyly admitting it’s some poetry he loves. Ends up reciting you the whole thing, looking into your eyes intently as he wishes to actually be confessing each of those flowery words.

✧ Grabs your hand to lead you places whenever he finds something you just have to see! Blushes about it after the fact but in the moment the excitement just takes over him and he doesn’t even think about it.

✧ Begins sharing concerns and deeper thoughts with you once he trusts you as a sort of sign of that feeling. He hopes you understand that he doesn’t disclose to just anyone.

Sam

✧ He wants to talk to you so bad, but also you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen and how does he do that??? So sweet and attentive with his gaze when you do talk, so that could clue you in.

✧ He definitely gives you the biggest and best of anything he prepares, smiling softly at you as he dishes it up!

✧ Offers to tell you stories of The Shire, especially if you’ve never visited it yourself, and you can see the love for it in his eyes as much as you can hear it in his voice. Shares a few about his old Gaffer, too!

✧ Trips over his words from time to time. He’ll accidentally say the wrong thing and nervously try to laugh it off not realizing how adorable he looks when he blushes ☺️

✧ Sees a pretty flower on the road and immediately thinks of you, plucking it up and twirling it thoughtfully before extending it your way gently, naming his discovery as he does so.

✧ Would give you the shirt off his back if you wanted or needed. Offers you things from his bags a lot ranging from supplies that can ease your passage on this trip to the last of the sweets from The Shire he’d thrown in his pack pockets. Any task you don’t want to do Sam is jumping up to do for you!

Merry

✧ Medium obvious because he makes it his mission to get close to you and hype you up. If you’re oblivious or cynical it could be mistaken as him just being friendly, but it can’t come as a shock the way he’s so eager for your presence!

✧ Acts like you being amazing at things you’ve never even done is a foregone conclusion, like it could be your first time firing with a bow and he’ll be telling everyone what a natural you’ll be, urging you to go on and show them!

✧ Faintly embodies the old adage ‘if they tease you, that means they like you’. He sometimes makes up stories to see if you believe him, chuckling merrily when you do but quickly giving up the ghost again so you don’t have the wrong idea. Others he’ll just poke fun at things you say and egg all of your jokes on, too!

✧ Winks at you on the off time you two make eye contact with each other.

✧ Holds out his hand to you and gives a small bow every time he invites you to dance, asking if he may have it with a devilishly charming grin before he pulls you close.

✧ Whisks you away when he wants you to himself, taking you on a sightseeing adventure or even just foraging. Turns it into an over-the-top skit of him searching and protecting you from the threats of the forest that has you giggling!

Pippin

✧ Oh, you’ll be able to tell! He tries his best to be smooth and is super complimentary and generally wants to be around you 25/8. Even if it comes across goofy, you have to give him props for being forward with his intentions 😌

✧ Practically jumps out of his seat to be the one to help you with anything, whether it’s going fishing, gathering berries or firewood, getting some training in…you name it, he wants to be there for you if you need him!

✧ You may catch him staring at you, whether it’s in awe of your beauty or just straight-up checking you out depends on his mood, but his eyes are almost always flicking back to you in idleness.

✧ Remembers every single detail you share about yourself, like EVERY SINGLE ONE. Knows all your preferences by heart and frequently suggests playing your favorite game or offering to sing your favorite song, likely with an invitation to dance too! Pippin will chime in about your dislikes or allergies before even you can.

✧ Casually begins breaking touch barriers with small gestures like putting a hand on your shoulder during a mock apology for his cousin’s behavior or sitting with your arms brushing. If you don’t seem to mind, he’ll get bolder, slinging an arm over your shoulders during a jolly moment!

✧ Not afraid of compliments, definitely not! Unabashedly (well, mostly anyway, he hides a blush well) tells you that color looks great on you or what a pretty face you’ve got just in casual conversation.

[delirious-donna]

Dangerous Games [Hoshina Soshiro]

an: the Vice-Captain may be your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the wicked games he likes to play… now, sit pretty.

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, dangerous liaisons, semi-exhibitionism (I guess?), Soshiro is a wicked boy but he adores you truly

Masterlist

If you tried to recall what possessed you to think this was a good idea, you were left with absolutely nothing in mind. It was a dangerous game, one you never thought Soshiro would be up for playing, but here you were, sat on the Vice-Captain’s lap surrounded by comrades and the likes in the communal movie room.

Yes, you were more than one of the operatives charged with ensuring the safety of the division’s officers, far more. You were the girlfriend of Vice Captain Hoshina and whilst it still made you giddy when you thought about it, it was no secret. Soshiro wasn’t the type to be too overly affectionate with others around, but he didn’t shy away from touching you when the opportunity struck. A hand on the small of your back, a lightning-fast kiss pressed to the top of your head, a cheeky grope of your behind when he was certain no one was looking. But this? This was something altogether new…

The room was dark with the only light being emitted from the projector shining a movie onto the wall with vivid colour. It felt hot, of course it did, the sticky feeling of being smothered by too many layers itched down your spine and you wondered if the others felt it too. There were far more faces in here than you had predicted when you first fell into Soshiro’s little game—it felt more like a trap now—and you burned with the knowledge that they could discover the depths of your depravity at any moment.

In sheer desperation to distract your wayward mind and the reactions of your body, you tried to remember the plot of the movie. To at least try and follow along with what was happening but it was impossible when the man beneath you was doing his damnedest to ruin you so completely.

The spread of wet kisses started innocently enough at your cheek. They moved lower to your jaw, long clever fingers angling your head so he could suck little marks at your pulse and the delicate bone at your clavicle. A curtain of silky amethyst hair hid his face from you, obscuring the area of his next attack which he disguised as showering you in affection. You were no fool. You could feel his smile against your clammy skin, and it only worsened the predicament.

You rutted your hips, barely an inch but it was enough for the almost silent groan to echo from the depths of his chest. A strong, capable chest that was pressed flush against your back, a hand at your waist to hold you steady in his lap. Immediately you stilled, breath caught fast in your throat, but it was too late for that.

Soshiro’s teeth latched on your ear, tugging the lobe between those perfectly sharp incisors before a strained and quiet voice flowed inside. Despite the strain, he sounded amused—almost manic.

“That was naughty, little flower. Do you want to get caught?” he asked, and the very idea of one of your friends or colleagues turning their attention to the couch that only you two occupied made your cunt clench.

It was all the answer he needed.

His sharp inhale of breath was more audible this time, and you fought the urge to squirm against the hold that was tightening with every passing second. His arm was like a steel band around your waist, the voice that of a devil that was exhilarated by the circumstances he’d found himself in.

“Oh… it’s like that, is it? If only your colleagues knew how filthy you were being right now. Tsk tsk.” His tongue clicked softly against his teeth, a feigned admonishment that left your head falling back to his shoulder and your face pressed into his neck.

You inhaled the scent of skin, the salt mixed with something light and almost floral from his body wash. The temptation to lick a long strip from below his ear to the swell of his Adam’s apple was interrupted by his cock massaging against your front wall. The engorged tissue of your pleasure spot lit up your veins like fireworks, and only turned up the dial on the neediness pooling both in the pit of your stomach and between your sticky thighs.

He knew exactly how to make you melt, the merest flick of his wrist and the right intonation would see you putty in his hand. It should be annoying to be so easily read, but honestly, you appreciated the efforts he had gone to to learn you so intimately. Soshiro was a dedicated man, to his job and to you, it was heartwarming to feel so cared for, even when you found yourself in promiscuous situations such as these.

You knew that, had you been alone in here, you would be riding him to completion and to hell with the consequences. He knew it too and that only tightened your jaw, your molars grinding together as you tried your very best not to move another inch. The Vice-Captain might not be laughing but one quick peek into his eyes told you that he was barely holding back from doing just that.

Hushed conversation from your friends stole your -attention away from the shining humour in his violet eyes, cheeks burning hot as you glanced around the room but didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eye. The moment passed, action returning to the screen, and you exhaled a long-held sigh of relief.

Instead of smacking his chest like you wanted to do, you worked on steadying your breathing, grateful of the breathing techniques taught by the very organisation you worked for. You tried to ignore how every minuscule movement was ticking you closer to yelling to hell with it and bouncing on his dick until your eyes crossed and the band of tension in your belly snapped. You ignored the wet arousal that drooled from your cunt, clenching around his length behind your modest skirt, and you definitely didn’t think about the stains you were likely leaving on the front of his pants…

His fingers splayed beneath the hem of said skirt, rucking the fabric closer to your knee until his hand could disappear beneath. You grabbed up a cushion and pressed to your lap to hide whatever his intent was whilst your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. You almost moaned aloud at the grazing touch of his nail against your puffy lips, followed by the circular motion of his fingertips teasing your swollen clit. It was enough to make you bite your lip until the iron tang of blood hit your tongue.

Warm breath fanned your cheek, his lips so close to your ear that the sensation tickled down your spine.

“Make it through the movie, sweet girl. Then I promise I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight, okay?”

All you could do was nod. There were no words in your head, and quite frankly, you didn’t trust your voice not to give the game away completely. It was imperative you last, that you make it through this mission and receive your reward.

Soshiro smiled against your pulse, nipping playfully at the wildly erratic rhythm beneath the skin. God, he adored you so much.

“That’s it, sit still for me.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention.

Word Count - 1.5k ish??

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the wild gif, but I saw it and couldn't not use it. this fic is based on this request!! thank you for this message my love - it sparked so many thoughts. I made chibs a little sweeter than I meant to, oops.

Masterlist. Inbox.

The wind whips through your hair as you speed down the road, sunlight beaming down and warming you both.

You have your helmet tightly strapped on your head, a gift from the man currently in front of you on the bike. He'd grumbled as he'd given it to you, mumbling something about someone has to keep you fuckin' safe and last thing we need is an injury to your pretty face.

It's a complicated relationship you have, to say the least. You're not together. No, Chibs is still technically married to Fiona, and he's not exactly the boyfriend type. You're not sure what you want, reluctant to commit to dating a member of the club and all of the danger that comes along with it.

So, you dance the line. The two of you flirt, laughing and touching. You get close, and then you pull away. You wonder if one day, he'll just crack. He knows that if he starts something, he'll have to finish it. He's not a man who works in halves.

Chibs occasionally takes a hand off the handlebars to squeeze your thigh, a silent communication. He's asking are you okay? And you're reaching forward to squeeze his in reply, answering yeah, I am.

Your arms are wrapped around his middle, safe and secure. You can feel the taut muscles of his back and shoulders through the leather jacket that you're pressed against. You know how big he is - tall and broad and unwavering in the face of danger. He's ruthless, and it turns you on. It probably shouldn't, but it does.

The next time he reaches back to squeeze your thigh, you graze your fingernails along the muscle of his before squeezing back much further up. You feel the tension instantly, his back tightening in front of you. You smirk and hold on again, acting like nothing happened.

He's curious, now. Testing the waters. He squeezes your leg again, firmly, and you squeeze back so high that your fingertips graze his bulge. His breath hitches, and you feel it. You grin.

He pinches your thigh this time, sharply. A warning.

One that you ignore. You dance your fingertips higher, lightly stroking across the tent in his jeans, nails scraping the denim. He hums, low and dangerous, vibrations rumbling through the both of you.

You return your hands to his torso, clinging on tightly as you curve around the bends, scenery flying by. You're back at the clubhouse before you know it, the journey as quick as the blink of an eye.

You act like nothing has happened as you get off the bike. You know the two of you have just crossed a line, moving from friendship to something more. You don't want to address it. So, you hang your helmet onto the handlebars and go to walk away, in desperate need of a drink.

A strong hand grabs your wrist, spinning you back around. You collide with a hard chest, a soft oof leaving you. Chibs looks you up and down slowly, gaze raking across your body and stopping at your mouth. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip before pulling you in closer, hands snaking around your back.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

You take a deep breath and exhale it in a shudder.

"... Inside?"

"Nuh uh," he tuts, tracing patterns across your skin absentmindedly. "You don't get to pull a stunt like that and just walk away."

You decide to play clueless, hoping it'll get you off easier.

"A stunt like what?"

He pulls you in closer again, so your bodies are pressed against each other. No space between you.

"Oh, sweetheart. This innocent act might work on other people, but it doesn't work on me. I see right through ya."

You find a shred of confidence from somewhere, determined to make him sweat a little. You enjoy getting under his skin.

"And what do you see, Filip? Hmm?"

He smirks, mischievous and knowing.

"I see a strong, independent woman, who wants - no, sorry - needs, someone to put her in her place."

You raise your eyebrows at him, so he keeps going.

"You want to be broken apart and put back together again. You enjoy pushing my buttons, trying to get a rise from me, don't you? You think it's fun. But you've got no fuckin' idea about the things I want to do to you, honey. I'm not sure you want to know."

You're panting, now, your chest heaving with anticipation.

"Tell me," you whisper. "Tell me what you want to do to me. Please."

"Please? You wanna be polite now?"

You practically pout at him, big doe eyes begging him to just give in. But Filip Telford is nothing if not stubborn. He is, in fact, the most adamant person you've ever met.

"Chibs."

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Don't be mean."

"Mean? This ain't mean, baby. You're just used to everyone being sweet to you because you're pretty."

You smile, now. That's a pleasant surprise.

"You think I'm pretty?"

He rolls his eyes at you, chuckling.

"I think you know that by now."

"It's just nice to hear you say it."

He leans forward, pressing his mouth to your ear.

"You know what? Yeah. Let's go inside."

Chibs grabs your hand and leads you with him, pulling you at a quick pace across the yard. When you reach the door, he pulls it open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Ever the gentleman.

The clubhouse is empty, which makes a change. The minute you’re inside, you feel two hands on your hips, pushing your back into the bar.

“You really wanna know?”

His accent has got thicker, tone low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please. Tell me.”

“You’ll never look at me the same,” he begins, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “When you hear what I want to do to you.. the things I’ve thought about… you won’t be able to look me in the eye, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back to look at his face.

“I think you underestimate me a little, Chibs. Wait until you hear the things I’ve thought about in bed at night, when I can’t sleep.”

He presses a kiss into your neck, nipping at it gently. You groan at the contact, tilting your head to give him better access. One of his hands trails down your side, popping the button on your jeans with ease.

“Gonna take the edge off,” he murmurs, “and then fuck you the way you deserve when I get you home. Alright?”

You nod frantically, gripping onto his biceps to keep you upright. You rest your head against his chest, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“Chibs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

He smiles at you, all genuine and soft for a moment.

“Yeah, babe. I’ll kiss you. Been waiting for you to ask for a long time.”

He adds the last part quietly, as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. He leans down and presses his lips to yours, more tender than you were expecting. You hum in contentment, opening up to let him slip his tongue in. He tilts your head back, licking into your mouth all filthy and debauched.

One of his hands slips into the front of your jeans, tracing you over your underwear. You both groan at the action, lips still connected.

“Fuck, sweetheart. This all for me, hmm?”

You nod almost instantly, resting your head back on his chest. Chibs slips his hand under your waistband, gathering your slick before sliding a finger inside with ease.

“Knew you’d feel like this. Wet and warm and tight and fuckin’ perfect.”

You whine, winding your hips down to chase any friction he’ll give you.

“You’re filthy, darlin’. Letting me finger you in the clubhouse, huh? What if someone walks in, hmm? What if someone sees you like this?”

“Don’t care,” you choke out. “More, please.”

He chuckles darkly, slipping another finger in while rubbing at your clit in circles with his thumb. Your knees buckle, shaking as you grab onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got ya,” he’s murmuring into your ear, crooking his fingers. “I’ve always got ya.”

He speeds up his movements, leaning in to press open mouthed kisses down your neck. He nips you with his teeth occasionally, making you whine all high pitched and breathy. You know you’re gonna smell like cigarettes and gasoline for the foreseeable future.

“You’re close, aren’t ya? Can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me.”

Chibs snakes his unoccupied hand around your back, holding you up as your legs shake. You fall over the edge, gasping into his chest as he mutters sweet nothings.

“There we go, atta girl. Good fuckin’ girl, hmm?”

You’re nodding, collapsing forwards against him. He pulls his hand from your jeans and instantly puts his fingers in his mouth, making your knees even weaker.

“Kiss me,” you whisper once again.

He obliges, softly connecting your lips. It’s gentle and careful and much more loving than you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Not in the slightest.

“Now, darlin’. I’m gonna stick you back on that bike, take you home, and fuck you like you deserve. Okay?”

“Okay,” you grin at him, laughing when he chuckles.

You’d have to be insane to deny an offer like that.

@just-a-girl-who-wrytes

[delilahsturniolo]

emails i can’t send 💌

— m.s

summary: matt comforts you while your parents are arguing.

this story contains: arguing, toxic relationship with parents, fluff, crying, more. do not read if you aren’t comfy :)

written by @delilahsturniolo, do not copy or steal my works. do not take inspiration without permission. happy reading! :)

“it's times like these wish I had a time machine.”

“so I could see what you did october thirteenth.”

thunder erupted from the sky, the loud crashing sounds from the storm tuning out the yelling from downstairs.

you were currently locking yourself in your room, sitting against your wall as you hugged your knees to your chest, listening to your parents scream back and forth through the thin walls of your house.

you covered your ears, flinching every time one of your parents raised their voices. you didn’t grow up in a lovable home, so you were sensitive to yelling and arguing.

you breathed in and out, trying to calm yourself down as you could hear the muffled argument from upstairs, getting increasingly more heated.

you shakily reached for your headphones, trying to blast music into your ears as you pressed shuffle on your playlist. however, nothing worked. you couldn’t get it off your mind. your brain was filled with so many thoughts, it was hard just sitting there, not knowing how far this would escalate.

you threw your headphones across the room in frustration, grabbing your pillow and stuffing your face into it. tears soaked the fabric of your pillow as you silently cried into it.

all you wanted, more than anything else in the world was to have parents who loved each other. if you were offered the same type of love your parents had for each other, you would immediately deny it. you’d rather be alone.

eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. you reached for your phone, tears falling onto the screen as you breathed unevenly. you went to your contacts, and dialed the number of the one person you knew could help. the one person who truly understood you, who truly cared. your boyfriend, matt.

your phone rung as you shut your eyes, silently praying he’d answer. as if on queue, matt answered the phone. “hi lovey, everything okay?” he asked you, his soothing voice coming through the phone.

the sound of his voice alone was all it took for your anxiety to be eased. he had no idea how much power he had over you, you immediately relaxed, knowing that he was here for you.

“m—matt..” was all you managed to choke out between your tears. you were scared, you were scared he would think you were pathetic for calling him about this.

“woah woah, what’s wrong baby? are you crying?” panic was present in matt’s voice, you could tell that he was extremely worried about you now.

“my parents are arguing again.” you sniffled, trying to wipe your tears with your sleeve. you heard matt sigh on the other end of the phone, as well his keys jingling.

“i’m on my way sweetheart, stay strong f’me okay? you’re doing so well.” matt quickly reassured. he stayed on the phone with you the entire time, telling you how everything was going to be okay and trying to calm you down.

matt practically sped over to your house, not caring how many red lights he ran. his only priority right now was you, he needed to make sure you were okay.

you jumped as you suddenly heard a knock on your window. it was matt, thank goodness. you gasped in happiness and relief, not hesitating one bit to open your window for him.

matt stepped into your room, his hair was soaked from the rain. he immediately engulfed you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you as tight as ever. you immediately clung onto him with your life, not caring how wet he was from the storm outside.

“sssh, shh, i’m here lovey..” matt cooed, his hand moving up to your hair. you both could still hear your parents going back and forth, it wasn’t as bad as before though. but at the same time, you didn’t know how much longer it was going to go on for.

“matt?” you hummed his name as your face was buried in his chest. “hm?” he replied back, rubbing your back soothingly.

“c—can we go back to your house? i can’t sleep here tonight.” you hesitantly asked. you couldn’t stay home tonight, you couldn’t deal with all the fighting anymore. it was all becoming too much.

“of course baby, let’s go mkay?” matt pulled away from the hug, you already had some stuff of yours at his house for when you slept over, so you didn’t need to pack anything.

matt took your hand, helping you step out your window and climb down the tree that stood next to it.

the rain had subsided as matt walked you to his car, helping you into the passenger seat. matt shut your door, getting into the other side and starting the car, beginning to drive off.

you turned your head, looking out the window as matt drove to his house. your eyes were exhausted, matt’s hand was placed on your thigh. he looked over at you every few seconds to make sure you were okay.

it was completely quiet in the car, the silence was comforting though. matt didn’t speak, knowing you probably wouldn’t want to right now.

your eyes began to shut as you rested your head on the back of your carseat, to say you were tired was an understatement.

matt looked over, seeing you fall asleep. he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb to help you relax. he muttered a small “i love you.” as he looked at you.

you lazily hummed a response back, he smiled at your sleepy voice as he turned his head, putting his eyes back on the road.

he was glad he could be there for you, he was glad he could take care of you. because after all, you deserved it more than anything in the world. to matt, you were the most perfect girl. he saw the best in you even in your worst moments.

© delilahsturniolo

join the taglist here!!! 💌

[jareaul0ver]

nika fic where nika is being hella clingy with reader while they’re trying to get ready to go out with the team and they end up having a quickie before leaving. when they finally show up to the event all disheveled paige or kk notice the hickeys and reader gets all flustered n stuff

Lunch

wc: 1.2k warnings: nsfw, fingering, brief nipple play, quickie, nika fucking reader in the mirror, hickeys, language, teasing from friends pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

You pulled together your outfit with the small details. You slid a few rings onto your fingers, bracelets onto your wrists, and clasped a necklace Nika had given you around your neck.

It was always "tradition" to celebrate a win with your girls. You'd find a bar or a club and go out, get absolutely shit faced, and wake up the next morning hungover, all to have to go to practice.

Did you have some regrets most of the time? Yes, of course, but you wouldn't let that stop you from spending time with the people that meant the most to you in your life.

You couldn't help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You were never the most cocky or confident type, but tonight you knew you looked good.

A few clicks of your phone camera later, you watched Nika approach you from behind. She slinked her arms around your waist and rested her chin on your shoulder.

"Hi, baby." She mumbled. You watched her eyes take in your figure through the mirror, and she took her bottom lip between her teeth. "You look.. so good."

A light blush colored your face. You would never get used to the endless complements from Nika, no matter how long you'd be together.

Your hands rested over hers. "Thanks, babe." You looked over at her and kissed her cheek. You made sure to snap another picture, capturing the sweet moment with your girlfriend.

She hummed in response and moved her hands to rest on your hips. Nika pressed a light kiss to your neck. "Really, I don't know if I'll be able to keep my hands to myself tonight."

You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. "Well, it'll have to wait until we get back, we don't wanna be late." You went to pull away from her but her grip on you was strong. "Baby, seriously we-"

She gently bit down on your shoulder, quickly soothing it with her tongue. A small gasp fell from your lips at the sudden action. "I think we still have a few minutes before we have to leave, no?" She kissed up your shoulder and neck, her lips landing on your jawline.

A shiver ran through your body and you mindlessly melted against her. She always knew how to get you going, even in the most inopportune times.

"But-" you sighed when you felt her hand unbutton your jeans. Her eyes met yours in the mirror, and she silently asked for permission. If you really didn't want this right now, she would never make you do it, even if you looked like a work of art to her.

With the odds in her favor, you nodded slightly with parted lips. She quickly unzipped your pants and slipped her hand past the waistband of both your jeans and panties.

She groaned softly in your ear as she slid her fingers through your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already? Haven't even done anything yet." Her middle and ring fingers found your clit and she rubbed small circles on it.

Your head fell back to lean against her shoulder, but you kept your eyes on hers in the mirror. She refused to look away, and so did you.

The two of you have had incredibly hot sex before. Ranging anywhere from rough after suffering a loss of a game, to gentle if one of you needed relaxing, and sure you've had incredibly sensual and intimate moments together, but this was on a whole other level.

Without warning she slipped her fingers into you and you whined. "Fuck." She slowly pumped her digits in and out of your soaked cunt. She latched her lips onto your neck and sucked hard for a second.

Her lips came away and a string of saliva left them connected to your skin for a second. "So pretty like this, baby. You think you look pretty? Hm?"

You nodded a little frantically as she quickened her pace. "Mhm. I- I look pretty- fuck!" She curled her fingers, hitting your g-spot perfectly.

Nika's other hand slinked up your shirt and a small smirk formed on her face. "No bra?" She pinched a nipple between her fingers and your body arched away from her.

You screwed your eyes shut, and immediately felt her stop her movements. Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, she did. "Eyes on me and I'll make you cum, pretty."

Your lips parted and you took a deep breath. "Okay. Please, Nika, I need you."

She couldn't resist. Not when you sounded so desperate for her touch. She started curling her fingers in you quickly and hard. Her hand cupped your breast and she leaned back down, biting your shoulder.

"Feel good?" She mumbled before attaching her lips to your skin again.

"Mm, 's good, Nika." Your entire body weight was practically on her at this point. Your knees were weak, and you quickly felt the bubble in your stomach building up.

Her hand dropped to your stomach, and she lightly pressed down on it, letting you feel the goodness of her fingers inside of you even easier.

You moaned loudly and Nika responded with a huff. She quickened the pace of her fingers and you felt yourself getting incredibly close to finishing.

"Fuck, baby, I'm getting close- oh!" She dropped her hand even further and slipped it beneath her other to rub circles against your clit.

She sucked harshly on your neck and shoulder, littering them with small bites and hickeys you undeniably knew you'd get in trouble for.

That was the last of your worries though, as your body arched away from hers, the band finally snapping in your stomach. "Fuck!" You cried and screwed your eyes shut as you rode out your climax.

She slowed her pace before eventually pulling her fingers out of you, soaked with your juices. Nika brought them up to your mouth and you willingly cleaned her off.

"You did so good, babe." She mumbled as she pressed gentle kisses against your skin.

Everyone obviously knew that you and Nika had gotten up to some activities before you came. The crazed amount of marks and the fucked out look on your face easily gave it away.

Most of the team respected the two of you enough to not say anything, except for Paige. She never knew how to keep her mouth shut.

"Yo, you look like a vacuum cleaner got stuck to you." She raised her eyebrows at you, and then Nika who was standing behind you, in the same position that she had fucked you in before leaving.

Your face immediately turned red and a few of your teammates snickered at Paige's comment. "Shut your damn mouth, Bueckers."

Nika kissed your cheek softly before looking at Paige. "At least she's getting some, P, can't say the same about you." She clapped back.

A few "ooh's" came from the close knit circle of friends and Paige sulked away to the bar to get another drink.

You turned and captured Nika's lips in a quick kiss. "Mm, I love you, baby, but God you make me look like I'm a pornstar for a living sometimes."

She laughed softly. "Told you I wouldn't be able to help myself."