#THIS GOT OUT OF HAND BUT I LOVED THE PROMPT SO

[entitled-fangirl]

I'll always be thanking you.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: The reader goes through postpartum depression after she gives him yet another girl. Cregan reassures her that he loves his daughters.

Warnings: postpartum depression, recovering from childbirth, sexist culture

Masterlist

A/n: it's a two fic kinda day

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It had happened so suddenly.

Cregan thought all was right in the world. Everything was set in place by the Old Gods as it should be. Everything was perfect.

But he knew that the last two pregnancies had been unkind to her, prompting a horrid depression after them that went on for months. But when it hadn't shown yet for this last one, he thought that perhaps it had stopped completely.

Until now.

He stepped into their chamber with a broad smile, lightly bouncing the two-year-old on his arm. Arya. She giggled with each one, the sound distorted with the force of the bounces. Witnessing the intimidating man turn soft for the little girl was entirely endearing. 

"Your mother is still in bed," he chipped lightly as he observed his wife covered by the furs they shared every night.

"She always in bed," Lyanna, their five year old said as she trailed behind them.

"Not always," Cregan corrected firmly. "She just gave us your new sister. It takes a long time for the body and mind to recover from something that great."

A small shaking of his wife's shoulders from her laying form in the bed caused him to worry slightly. "Lyanna, why don't you take your sister?"

She wanted to complain but knew better than to argue with her father. She took the toddler's hand and they walked out from the room.

Cregan's recovering wife laid in their bed, completely unmoving except for the small shoulder shake he'd seen. It was a quiver and it sent him on edge. She only ever did that when-

"Are you crying?" He whispered as he sat on the bed, her back to him.

Finally she turned. She had been awake the entire time. Her face was red from crying, the paths of her tears evident on her face. Her lips pouted down as she suppressed a sob.

Cregan was quick to comfort her. He practically laid his body over hers, keeping an arm around her to let her weep into his collarbone. And she did so.

He cooed every few moments, his free hand rubbing at her hair. The tears pained him almost as much as watching her endure the harsh labor only a two weeks before.

When the violent part of the crying was over, he pulled her face away to look at her. "Now," he caressed her cheek, "What is all this for?"

She sniffled and hiccuped between words. "It's just… just… Sarra."

His face fell. "Is something wrong with the babe?"

"No. It's just…" she caught her breath. "Another girl."

Cregan's head tilted. "It is," he reckoned. "What is the problem, my love?"

"Can I not give you a boy?" She whispered in fear of the answer.

Realization flooded Cregan. "You're doing nothing wrong," he assured. "I love my girls with all my heart. Did you want a boy this badly?"

"I just want you to be proud of me."

He visibly flinched. The thought of his postpartum wife crying over giving him a healthy baby was too much for him. "I'm proud of you. You've given me three girls now."

"But it's not a boy." Her eyes continually welled up with tears. "I was so sure it was a boy."

"Do you think me that shallow, dear wife?" He asked in a firm tone. "That I'd have you birth children until I got a boy?"

"Two," she corrected. "You need an heir and a spare and I-" her breath caught. "I cannot even give you one. A cursed womb-"

"Don't say that." His voice was a firm growl, his hand grabbing her jaw a bit harder than he meant to. "Do not say that."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

Cregan forced a sigh and let his anger die down. He sat up a bit, giving her space. "Do you think that all I wanted in this world were two sons? Do you think that is all my heart desires?"

It was clear that she knew deep down how ridiculous she sounded. "Well-"

"-I've said it many times. What does my heart desire? Hmm? What brightens my day more than the sun?"

She let out a breath through her nose.

Cregan continued, tilting his head down to catch her gaze. "My wife and what? What else?"

"Your children," she whispered.

"Hm?" He asked, though he clearly heard it. He just wanted her to say it once again.

"Your children," she said a bit louder. 

He smiled. "Yes, our children." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Whether we had had one or you give me an army, I shall love them all until my remains in the crypt are long gone. Being a boy or girl doesn't change it."

"But… Winterfell-"

"-We'll deal with the succession when it is meant to happen. Until now, you're going to rest, and I'm going to spend time with our children. But I'm not going anywhere until you've done your part."

"The maester said it would take much longer to heal this time," she muttered. To herself or Cregan, she wasn't sure.

"That's alright. We've got all the time we need for now, don't we? No need to rush things."

"But the sooner we try-"

"-No-"

"-And Sarra was such a surprise-"

"-Stop-"

"-The next one could be sooner-"

"-Love," he said with a slightly raised voice. "When you're healed and ready to try once more, I will be eternally grateful. But I can wait a lifetime if I need to. I have all I need in the world already."

There was a small knock on the door. "Papa?"

No doubt it was Arya.

Cregan grinned and kissed his wife's temple before going to the door. In the doorway stood little Arya, her hair a sandy brown like Cregan's, her bright eyes like her mother. "What do you need?" It was a firm ask from him, but not one without care.

Arya had yet to say complete sentences yet, only a few  words here and there and the lord would be forced to try to make sense of them. She babbled about something and Cregan's brows raised, completely at a loss. "Um… I-"

"Here, darling," Y/n's soft voice came from behind Cregan as she walked to them. In her hand was Arya's doll that she had no doubt dropped earlier. It was a carefully sewn piece from Cregan's bastard sister, Sara, of whom the new babe was named after. "I see Aunt Sara got a new dress for her, hm?"

Arya grabbed the doll quickly from her mother and hugged the doll tightly. 

Cregan wrapped an arm around his wife. He wanted to scold her for getting up but he would refrain from that for now. "Aye. A very pretty dress," he tried to compliment. Cregan didn't know the first thing about sewing or doll making, or even the fashion of ladies, but he tried anyway to please his girls.

Arya's brows came together in clear confusion, prompting his wife to lightly elbow him. He gave a grunt and gawked.

"It's a battle dress," she spoke through her teeth. "It's a doll dressed like a female warrior."

He decided to go along with it, though he clearly didn't understand it. "I mean, what a very fierce dress. Seems very… protective."

Arya accepted that answer and held the doll out for Cregan to truly see. His gruff hand reached out and took the doll, bringing it up to his level to admire. His sister had done well with it, even he could see that. "So very pr-" he caught himself. "So very strong."

Arya jumped up to grab the doll and Cregan handed it back to her. The two parents watched her take off again like nothing had happened. 

"How'd you know what she wanted?" He asked his wife.

She rubbed at her tired eyes, ignoring the slight ache in her thighs. "She said so. Didn't you hear it?"

"We have three lovely girls and I still have so much to learn," he remarked, amusement oozing from his voice.

She gave a tired grin at that. She began leaning more into him than before and he held her hips taught. "Now," he remarked, "to bed with you."

"Sarra might need me-"

"-I'll check on Sarra."

"And Lyanna was hoping to play outside-"

"-I'll see to it."

"And Arya-"

"-What of Arya?" He asked quietly.

She paused. "I- She always needs something."

He let out a deep chuckle, guiding her back to the bed. "I'll see to it all. I promise you. I can be a father, whether you believe that or not."

She hummed. "I do."

"Alright. Then let me." He kissed her cheek, his scruff rubbing at her skin. "We'll get you in bed."

"Can the girls visit later?" 

He couldn't deny those bright eyes of hers. The same ones each of his girls inherited. It was his one weakness. "After you sup, then yes. But that is in a few hours."

Relief and excitement pulled at her shoulders, a comforting feeling washing over her. "Thank you."

As he tucked her back into the bed, he smiled at her. "Don't thank me. You've given me everything. I'll always be thanking you."

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Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar @kidd3ath @yujyujj @misswynters @cosmosnkaz @sithapprentice @kaniromi @lovemesomevesey @its-jackie-bb @thorins-queen-of-erebor @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn @callsignwidow @a1lexh-blog @alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867 @helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[msfantasy-anime]

No way! Luffy has a Wife?!

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: an amalgamation of many requests on others finding out Luffy is married.

A/n: Thanks @matronofthevoid for the prompt of Boa Hancock and to the other anonymous DM’s requesting others

Part VII

After a few weeks of Monkey Y/n’s Wanted posters circulating, the world government has issued a retraction after being unable to locate the marriage certificate of Luffy and Y/n.

The marines have since issued new Wanted posters, removing the family name ‘Monkey’ followed by the following description.

‘Y/n, Wanted Dead or Alive for 200 million berries after assaulting a marine officer for insulting childhood friend Monkey D. Luffy. The bounty has been increased as Y/n is confirmed to be an official member of the strawhat pirates after eye-witness testify Y/n claiming allegiance to the strawhat captain in wholecake Island. The World Government would also like to retract any claims or statements of the marriage between the pair due to lack of evidence to support claim.’

Whilst it true the new posters and description have been issued- not everyone has received the new news.

Shanks - Receiving the original poster

“Hey captain! Check this out!” Yassop howls in laughter with Lucky Roux, throwing a newly issued bounty down into their captains lap.

Wanted Dead or Alive. Monkey. Y/n. 100m berries.

Shanks eyes widen slightly at the name.

“Luffy’s a grown man now, wife and all…” Shanks mutters, his eyes shining with pride before quickly faltering to horror. “That little twerp got married and didn’t even invite me?! Can you believe that?!”

Silvers Rayleigh - Receiving the original poster

Shakuyaku smirks down at the news paper below her, taking a good long drag from the cigarette sitting loosely between her fingers.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Rayleigh steals a glance at the papers. “Well would you look at that… the boys not completely hopeless after all.”

Boa Hancock - Receives the new posters

As all of the Kuja warriors suspected. Their beautiful loving Empress has been bedridden for weeks.

The wanted poster…

The description of Luffy’s marital status…

It was all far too much for the tender hearted empress.

But as soon as Gloriosa received the newest issue, she figuratively bolted to the empresses bed chamber. “I’ve come bearing great news!” Gloriosa announces, pulling the blanket off of the rotting figure that is Boa Hancock.

He matted hair remains tangled, her swollen eyes pinching together tighter at the exposure of light. “Leave at once you old hag! Leave me to my suffering!” Hancock wails, pulling weakly at the bedcovers.

“He isn’t married!” Gloriosa announces as Hancock sits up rapidly. “Luffy! He isn’t married- it was just a false report! They’re only childhood friends!” The angelic expression that follow was so blindingly beautiful, Gloriosa’s memory lapsed at the beauty that is her Empress.

“Luffy my love! I knew it! You shall be mine! No woman is qualified for his affections!” Hancock swoons.

Monkey D. Garp - Receives the new poster

“See Koby?! I knew it wasn’t true!” Helmeppo scrutinises the posters hung up on the wall.

‘Y/n Wanted Dead or Alive’

Koby shrugs indifferently. Whilst it might be true Luffy and Y/n aren’t married, is it really so crazy to believe Luffy has romantic interests? Well according to Helmeppo, such a statement is ridiculous.

“What are you two bickering about now?” Garp grumbles, shoving his hand into the bucket of popcorn and into his mouth by the fist fulls.

“Sir- you would know more than that Luffy couldn’t possibly be married.” Helmeppo guestures to Y/n’s new poster.

There was a moment of silence before Garp dropped his bucket of popcorn to the floor, snatching the poster as his eyes widen in horror. “Huh?! So that little brat went and became a pirate after all?! Does anyone listen to me?! First Ace, then my idiot grandson and now my angel?!” Storming to his desk, Garp continues to mutter to himself under his breath, riffling through the papers until he is able to extract a report pertaining to your bounty from the pile.

You were Garp’s one saving grace.

The one and only rambunctious child that didn’t go over to the dark side, but based off the report- it’s still his idiot grandsons fault.

If he didn’t become a pirate then you wouldn’t have gained a wanted poster defending his honour like the noble angel you are.

“Sir - you would know more than anyone. Is Luffy and Y/n married or not?” Koby asks, only for Garps eyes to remain dark and downcast in angst.

“Unofficially.” He mutters only for Helmeppo to cringe at the confirmation.

“So it’s true then?! Strawhat really does have a wife?!” Helmeppo shouts in horror, needing desperately for Garp to tell him the honest truth.

“Huh?” Garp picks his nose mindlessly as he thinks back. “That idiot has been claiming they’ve been married for years… guess he just finally wore her down.”

Bartolomeo - Receives the new poster

“And Y/n defended Sir Luffy by knocking that filthy marine out in one hard punch!” Bartolomeo praises, dabbing a moist tissue to his eyes. “It’s just so beautiful! Sir Luffy deserves nothing less than a devoted wife to defend his honour.” Bartolomeo throws himself onto the floor as he continues to sob hysterically. “And - to think- they’re childhood friends! Truely a romantic story for the ages!”

The crew begin to cry in unison. “How can people deny their marriage?!” Some sobbing crewman questions, blowing his nose into his own shirt.

“They don’t need no stink’in piece of paper! We will help sir Luffy by spreading their grand love story far and wide for all to hear!”

Y/n - Receives the new poster

“Hey have you guys seen Y/n?” Luffy questions, scratching his head absentmindedly.

Zoro points lazily towards the head of the Thousand Sunny where you appear to be sitting glumly. You begin to make the face you always do when you are sad.

“I’m sorry Luffy- I didn’t mean to upset her.” Chopper mutters sadly. But Zoro only drops his heavy hand on Choppers head. “Y/n’s bounty went up, I went to show her, but then she got really upset.“ Chopper holds up the newly issued Wanted poster of Y/n.

“Hey it’s not your fault, all you did was show her the new poster.” Zoro reassures but Choppers shoulders sink further.

Luffy snatches Nami’s pen from her hand and begins to scribble on the Wanted poster.

“Luffy! What the hell-“ Luffy tosses the pen back on the table and stalks back off towards his gloomy wife.

“Oi! Have you seen your new wanted poster? Looks like your bounty went up since you’re officially in my crew now.” Luffy announces ecstatically, shoving the wrinkly paper into your hands.

You begin to slouch into yourself. You knew it was silly but it was heart wrenching to finally have a family name only of it to be taken at a moments notice. ‘Monkey’ was not a last name you even earnt. But even so, it was nice to feeling like you belonged somewhere.

“Yeah, what about it?“ Your voice shrivels up on the spot.

Looking down at the wanted poster you see your name haphazardly scribbled ‘Monkey Y/n’

Tears threatened to well-up. Without you even admitting out loud - Luffy somehow knew exactly what upset you and how to fix it. “You’re so dumb sometimes ya’know?” Luffy states rhetorically, which only makes you begin to boom with laughter. “How many more times do I have to remind you? You’re my wife. You don’t need some piece of paper to give you a last name. Because I already gave you my last name.” You begin to grin at your sweet loveable doofus. “But if you need a piece of paper, then take that. I wrote it myself and everything- Kay?” He asks only for you to spring on top of Luffy, pulling him into a lethal tight hug.

[justcreatininthedarkness]

I really love this prompt, so I had to write something.

after the death of Jackie's lovely grandparents, his family got the estate and their cat. It was all fine and dandy as they started to move in, most things being as they were when his grandparents had lived there. The antique furniture was somehow in perfect condition, not a single scratch from the cat.

Jackie's room was going to be in the attic, so he started to clean out all the old junk. Sorting through stuff that would be worth money and old trash, keeping the antique and the yard sale pile separate. He found some old family photos and portates, setting them aside for later, most likely just planning to throw them away after getting photos of his grandparents.

After a while his parents called him down for dinner. on his way down he nearly tripped over the cat, causing it to meow up at him, it had such a tiny and kitten like mewl. He picked up the fluffy calico and headed to the kitchen. "What was the cats name again?" He asked as the cat jumped from his arms and sat down by its bowl. "I dont remember, it might've just been chat. You can rename her if you want." His mother said as she put together a meal from what they had at the moment. "That's a boy cat," He lifted the calico up by its sides. "See, he has balls." His father laughed at that but his mother didn't find it as funny. "Jackie, I dont want to see a cats genitals before I'm about to eat." The cat wiggled out of his grip, then he sat down to eat with his family.

After dinner he had almost forgotten about the pictures until he tripped over a box of them, making them scatter. With a sigh he began to pick them up, notice a cat in a few of them. A lot of them. Old ones. At first he thought it was just another calico cat, maybe an ancestor of the current cat. But then he noticed over the decades worth of photos, that the patterns stayed the same. Always the same.

He quickly checked the back of the photos, the ones that included the cats name all had him as Sasha. Same pattern. Same name. Same cat.

He rushed downstairs with the photos to show his family, almost tripping over the cat again, but this time he swiftly ran past instead of picking him up.

When he got to his family he frantically told them about the cat as they sat on the couch, they did not look concerned at all. Not one bit. They laughed it off and told him to get ready for bed. When the cat rubbed against his legs he jumped and whisper yelled "I know your secret." Before he ran off again.

He closed the attic door and locked it. Ignoring the meows and scratching that followed a few minutes later; he curled up in his bed and tried to sleep, hoping that this was just a bad dream.

When he woke up the photos in his hand were gone. Maybe it was just a dream after all. As he sat up with a yawn he spotted the cat, sitting at the edge of his mattress. Just a dream. Please? "Hey... S-sasha, that's not actually your name though, that had to have just been a dream... Right Sasha?" The cat meowed in response to his words. He quickly leapt up and ran for the door, it was still locked. It couldn't have been a dream. How did the cat get up there? How was it alive? He heard it's small feet patter forward and he quickly unlocked the door before running downstairs.

He spent his whole day avoiding that cat, spending most of it with his mother as he helped her clean up the house a bit.

The cat kept following him, somehow getting into locked rooms and watching him from windows when he was outside.

He couldn't run forever, and he watched in dread as the cat slowly approached hid bed when he finally had to sleep. He wanted to run, to scream, to do something, but he had stayed awake and avoidant for two days and he couldn't keep his eyes open, no matter how scared he was. He felt paralyzed as his eyes slid shut and he felt something else get on his bed. "Shhh, no one has to know. Let's keep this a secret, ok boy?" What felt like a hand touched his face, two fingers prying one of his eyes open. "Right?" The figer in front of him was still rather small and surprisingly humanoid, it was just a bit smaller than him. Sashas hair was long and fluffy; it was patched with browns and blacks, with streaks of white. His skin was similar. His eyes were still big and cold brown.

He managed a small nod, then Sasha let go and got off the bed as Jackie quickly fell asleep, more likely from magic than exhaustion at this point.

(Sasha btw. I had to draw him. Might draw Jackie next.)

I had to sit down and think about how I would make a person calico. I actually really like it. might render it later.

I need to stop drawing feminine men though...

Your grandparent passes and your parents inherit the palatial estate as well as the care for its cat. After going through several family records you realize the cat has been inherited throughout the generations. You try telling others but they forget. Now it keeps trying to be alone with you.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, I'm obsessed with your writing, it's scratching a part of my brain I didn't know could be scratched. Anyway I love it and was wondering if any millionaire shortcake, s'mores, pots de crème and whatever's on the house could be served by Max Verstappen please?

Love <33

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i've been slowly getting through the prompts! this has been a fun little one to write! and thank you, thank you for loving my writing. sometimes it's hard to put into my head that people read me work because it's just me in my room haha, so thank you!!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + on the house: author's choice! (root beer: filming/recording) served by max vestappen (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, motorhome sex, rough sex, filming/recording, dirty talk, clothed sex

max looked at you from across the paddock, you were happily chatting with one of the mechanics. max knew you were taking engineering in school, after all racing was in your blood. you were the sister of charles leclerc, the only daughter out of four children.

and after a particularly rough weekend, max verstappen, wanted a little revenge. and while he was a little old for childish pranks towards charles. he was old enough to fuck the only leclerc daughter. as you ended up further through the paddock, your curious gaze was trying to find your brother max soon caught up with you.

a possessive arm got around your shoulder and you yelped. but then relaxed when it was just max. you exhaled deeply and smiled softly, an innocent kind of smile, "max! you scared me." you trusted max, you always did!

you had made the assumption in your head that max was going to shepherd you back to your brother. but, instead you were led further away from where he could possibly be. out of ferrari territory and right in red bull's. he guided you with a hand on the small of your back like a lover. his neck craned towards you as if he was going to kiss you.

"where's char, max?" you asked as you held the front of max's shirt. instead he just kissed you on the face.

"we'll wait in the red bull motorhome. you'll be safe there, treasure." he smiled at you. his voice soft, inviting. revenge coursed through him as he brought you up the steps of the home for the weekend.

his hands were on you a little more intimately once you got inside. you stumbled through the doorway and max pressed his clothed erection up against your behind, "the leclerc's pride and joy. the stray from the pack. you became an engineer and you made them proud. but if they saw you now." he flipped up the tennis skirt your wore and he was greeted with simple blue panties, "you'd be the greatest shame to your family." you were loved by your family and you always thought family was important. but, max's words burned in your minds and took nest in a deeper, darker part of you.

letting your brother's rival fuck the day lights out of you.

"max." you swallowed as he firmly grasped your throat. not enough to bruise but enough to keep you still.

"the accent gets you, doesn't it?" he asked lowly as he rubbed up against you. he thought he'd need to give you the princess treatment and give you a bed. but you quickly ended up over the couch. your blouse was unbuttoned and hung off your shoulders and your panties down your soft thighs.

if charles was a devil on the track, then you were the balance of light. an angel that max was going to ruin.

max admired your soaked cunt for a moment as he palmed himself through his jeans. he licked his lips, and said as he got behind you on the couch, "you look good like this. bent over for me. your little private school probably didn't teach you how to be a good slut. good thing i'm here, because i'll teach you everything."

you moaned as max teased your cunt with his fingers for a moment before he licked the wetness off of them. he undid his belt soon after and got his cock out of his pants. he knew he if he was a better man, he would have no grabbed his phone from his pocket and recorded him slotting his heavy cock into your needy little cunt.

he asked, "how does it feel?"

if a picture is worth a thousand words, then he could probably get a million dollars from the photo. the one he took of your cunt taking his cock beautifully. it made him lick his lips as he started to move against you.

his thrusts were strong and quickly he built up the pace. he was only encouraged by your slutty moans. you sounded like you loved cock. and who was max to deny you that. of course he'd fuck your sweet cunt with everything he got! and let filthy words tumble off his tongue as he worked your achy sex.

"i bet you were popular for all the wrong reason. not because of your smarts of your humor. no, you were popular because you gave it up so easily." max knew that wasn't true. you were notoriously monogamous, it was just words that scratched an itch. but don't worry you're little head, with the slice of heaven that max was feeling. he'd happily fuck you any day of the week.

you fueled his lust, simple as that. now it was your job to satisfy it. as his rough jeans rubbed against your behind with rough movements. he made you feel a pleasurable heat all over.

"i bet you knew exactly how to make the boys squirm. you have a pussy that could be called addictive. i was going to fuck you to blow off steam but now... i know why your brothers wanted you away from the track. you're not but a distraction."

you swallowed and felt the surge through your body. your pulse was quickened and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. you had no idea what max had planned for the future. you were his now. he wasn't going to give up having sex with you and let someone else have the chance. not lando, or lance, or anyone else. no one else could stake a claim while he was pushed inside of you.

you groaned through a tense jaw as he continued to hit against the right places. he made you shudder and squirm in all the right ways. you clutched onto the couch as he continued to fuck you with a quick thrusts that made you need more.

"fuck, more! please!" your noises were so sweet that max couldn't help but record them as he fucked you. he caught sight of how lovely, simply lovely, you took his cock. you fit perfectly against him.

you were just a little treat as he continued. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"it feels good." you gasped as he fucked you. his pace was quick and near erratic. he fucked you with purpose and it left you seeing stars at every chance. he was obsessed with you and you needed him in return. you knew you were close, you heavily panted against the white leather of the couch while he crammed every inch inside of you. he made sure your sweet cunt was filled to the max with him. his cock hit against you and it made you whine for more.

"you feel amazing, fuck, your pussy is amazing." he shuddered and pushed you further up against the couch. your noises, he gripped onto your hips tightly and bounced you up against his cock.

with a few more thrusts, you arched your back. you came around his cock which only made him move faster. he worked his aching cock into you.

"fuck, max!" you yelped and grasped tightly. you felt the after shudders of orgasm. you sounded beautiful and let him just fuck you with a feverish pace.

max was close behind you. he finished inside of you soon after. a few more heavy thrusts and he was spent. he held onto your hips for a moment longer as he slowed to a stop. he kissed your clothed back and rocked against you a few more times before he pulled out. a beady strain of cum connected you two. just as he liked it.

"how was that?" he asked as he pulled out and got his cock back into his jeans. he felt good as he watched you try to collect yourself.

you replied through heavy pants, "really fucking good."

-

"there you are." you heard your brother's voice as you walked through the paddock with max close by. charles took you by the shoulders and away from max, "where did you go?"

you swallowed as you could feel max's cum against the cotton of your panties. you then chuckled as your brother pulled you in for a tight hug, "i think i just got lost. but! max was here to help me." you looked over to the other man.

charles smiled at his long time rival, "thanks, mate." he had zero clue what max did to you. your brother slapped you on the back lovingly, "let's get back towards our end so we can get ready for dinner." then gave max one last look before you both left.

max eyed your behind as you walked away. he wondered for a moment, which school did you go to and how easily could get there. <3

[moonstruckme]

MAE I'm sorry, I thought of another (no pressure at all of course). maybe hot cocoa - send a character + a prompt with Spencer Reid and reunion? Maybe Spencer wasn't supposed to be home in time for the holidays and surprises his love??? AH so cute ok sorry I'll retreat back into my cave now thanks love you byeeee

Never ever be sorry lovely!! Thanks for your request <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 465 words

You set your keys on the counter when you come in, your cheeks tingling pleasantly from the change of the cold wind to your warm home. You’re carrying a small bag of presents which you set down next to your keys before taking off your shoes. It takes you a few seconds to realize something isn’t the way you left it a few hours ago. 

The Christmas tree is lit, its warm glow emanating from the living room and casting hazy shadows on the walls. 

You don’t proceed with as much caution as a woman who’s expected to be alone in her home likely should. You know Spencer and most anyone from his team would crow at you for leaving your mace with your keys by the door; but really, what creature of malintent plugs in the Christmas tree? You find Spencer sleeping on the couch, shoes nowhere to be seen but still in his work clothes. 

The smile that takes you is ginormous. He looks especially lovely. The gentle glow of the lights makes the curves of his face look soft and sweet, cherubic almost, but you’d be just as happy to see him if he were rough and grimy and frowning in his sleep. 

“Spence,” you murmur, crouching beside him. You touch his shoulder gently. “Spencer.” 

His eyes move under his eyelids before they open, settling blearily on you. “Hi.” His voice is rough but tilts up with pleasure. He blinks his way into the world. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, beaming. “What’re you doing here? What about the case?” 

“We, uh…” Spencer sits up, rubbing his face. “We solved it. They haven’t caught the guy yet, but I’m never as helpful with that part as Morgan or JJ anyway. I wanted to be with you.” 

Your cheeks are starting to hurt. You hug him fiercely. It’s awkward and half sideways, but full of more love than you can express. Spencer seems to get it. 

“I know how much Christmas means to you,” he says, folding an arm around your back. “I didn’t want to miss it.” 

Whatever he says, you know how much finishing out a case means to him, too. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got here,” you offer. “I’d have come home.” 

“That’s okay, I didn’t want you to cut your celebration short.” Spencer’s pinkie sweeps in slow arcs between your shoulder blades. “We’re together now, right?” 

You let him go to take his face in your hands, thumb denting softly into his cheek to make sure he’s really there. “Yeah,” you say, kissing him. “Thanks for coming home, Spence.” 

“Thanks for having me,” he says, a bit awkwardly. His smile when you laugh is the brightest thing in the room. 

[demonic0angel]

"If you give me a prompt I'll write it 😈" - Aight Bet.

Danny didn't expect his sister to have a pen pal, she said it's someone from nanda Parbat?? Danny doesn't know where the Fuck that is but everytime he sees the letter that was sent(those are some fancy lookin envelopes) he could feel rancid Ectoplasm lingering around them.

Jazz has already noticed but took no caution about it, Jazz said that she had a son, her name was Talia (No Mentioned Last name) and she was a very odd woman.

Danny listened to Jazz ramble on about her new "friend", Her son Damian which her pen pal had talked about and even sent a drawing of(how fancy). Danny WOULD investigate and dig deep into it since he's the ghost king and all but jazz explicitly told him not to.

....

Meanwhile, Jazz plans to meet her 'Penpal Friend' soon. She's very excited but still cautious, The way her friend talked about her situations was... Concerning to say the least and jazz shall use her psychiatrical expertise to help her!

[Danny is very concerned, Dan is Very Concerned 2.0, Dani says "Yuri."]

-A.E. 👻

(I’m gonna change the context of your ask a little so Jazz already knows Talia’s identity before she meets her again in person. Also, this got really long lmaooo)

Talia gave her a small nod when she saw her. She lifted her head to meet Jazz’s gaze as Jazz gave her a dazzling smile.

“Hello, Talia,” Jazz said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “You look lovely.”

Talia avoided her gaze and just hummed. She cleared her throat lightly and then said, gesturing to the hallway, “This way.”

Jazz followed her at a set pace and said, “It’s good seeing you again. How are you? Did you enjoy the candy I shipped over?”

Talia nodded. “Yes. I gave them to my son and he enjoyed them. Thank you very much.”

Jazz beamed. She did not ask the burning question in her heart. Was Talia alright? Her letters to her had become less and less frequent in the past year before the most recent message to her had been a barely disguised begging for Jazz to come see her.

Jazz didn’t mind; she loved seeing Talia, who was startlingly dangerous and hauntingly beautiful, but it still worried her. Talia was a strong woman, but she wasn’t invincible, even with that pool of rancid ectoplasmic bath water. (She shuddered just thinking about it. She needed to ask Danny to wipe them out before Talia could hurt herself again using them.)

“Where are we going?” Jazz asked, glancing around. They were inside of a nice, expensive looking condo in Spain.

Talia paused in front of a door. She hesitated before she said slowly, “Jazz… I have valued your friendship greatly. In the last few years, you have become someone very dear to me. However, as you are already aware, I am in a dangerous position in my home. I do not wish to endanger you, especially since you are a civilian. If you do not wish to take this journey with me, then… you should turn around now.”

Jazz chuckled. How cute that Talia thought that Jazz was a helpless civilian. However, it had been Jazz who had accidentally enforced that idea within Talia’s mind. It was a little too late to correct that notion though, so Jazz just shook her head softly and tried to look reassuring for Talia.

“It’s too late for that.” She reached out to hold Talia’s hand, scarred and weathered from fighting, squeezing slightly. “I will accompany you and help you however I can.”

Talia nodded again, looking away. “Thank you… beloved.”

Jazz tilted her head curiously at the title, but did not say a word. Talia then opened the door and Jazz’s eyebrows rose as she stared at a young boy with similar features to the woman beside her. He scowled at her, but it just looked cute with his round cheeks.

Jazz turned to Talia. She already had an inkling, but she wanted to confirm. “This is…?”

“My son,” Talia said, “His name is Damian. And I earnestly beg you to take him in for me.”

“What! But mother!” Damian stood up and shouted, while Jazz’s eyebrows shot up again.

Talia gave him a light glare. She turned back to Jazz and it was cute how she had to look up at her. “My father is increasing pressure on us, and he is training Damian even harder. If this continues, Damian’s life could be in danger. I would’ve left him with his father, but Bruce’s lifestyle is… not what I want for Damian. Please, could you take him in, beloved?”

Damian shut his mouth with a click and both Al Ghuls stared at Jazz with wide eyes, one beseeching and one shocked.

Jazz smiled and reached out to hold Talia’s hand again. It was really nice to hold, and warm too. “Of course. You don’t have to worry, Talia. Like I’ve said, you can depend on me.”

Talia beamed. “Thank you, beloved.” She flipped Jazz’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. Jazz blushed. It felt strangely… intimate? But who was Jazz to judge? Maybe it was a League of Assassins custom! Or something! She didn’t get to meet Talia often, usually just exchanging weekly letters, so how would she know?

Talia turned back to Damian, still holding Jazz’s hand and said, “She will be your new caretaker. She is very important to me and you can trust her with your life. Call her… mom.”

Jazz side eyed Talia, but did not dispute it. Maybe it was some sort of spy plan? Like a code name? It would make more sense when a woman and a young boy were together for them to be mother and son.

Jazz also turned to Damian and let go of Talia’s hand to walk over to him slowly, keeping an open posture and friendly smile on her face.

Damian eyed Jazz as she approached and then knelt down respectfully before him. She smiled. “Hello, Damian. I’m Jazz, and I hope we can get along.”

Damian looked at his mother. They had some sort of silent conversation that Jazz did not understand, before Damian turned back to her. “Yes… it’s nice to meet you too… mom.”

Jazz smiled. “I’ll take care of you.”

Damian sniffed. “I certainly hope so.” He tried to look haughty, but he was so short compared to Jazz that it once again looked adorable and pouty.

Yep. It was official. Her siblings were going to eat him alive.

Jazz looked back at Talia, who was staring at them both with a soft expression. Strangely, the gentle look made Jazz’s stomach flutter.

Weird. Was she growing sick?

Talia blinked, noticing her gaze. “Is there something wrong, beloved?”

Jazz coughed at the nickname again. Damian eyed her like she was a walking disease and Talia just looked more and more worried. “Nope! So, uh, what’s the official plan?”

She stared at Talia, who just blinked and hummed, pursing her red, kissable lips.

Yep. Definitely sick.

(Talia: Heh! Cool, calm, and collected, with a dash of vulnerability! I’m definitely showing my best side to my beloved, Jazz! She’s so much better than that emotionally constipated Bruce!

Jazz: *completely and utterly oblivious to any advances made by another woman* Wow, Talia is so pretty today too. Surely, it is normal to want to hold hands and kiss another girl because she’s so pretty 😃 I wonder why she wants her kid to call me mom? 😃

Damian: …. Two moms? Is this my birthday?)

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe. 

[daisymbin]

Mingyu x fem!reader

Angst - 18. "i thought you were different." with reader saying that.

Also happy ending pleeeeaaase 🥺👉👈

thank you for requesting! 🥰

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

angst prompt #18: "I thought you were different."

you sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. mingyu stood a few steps away, looking like he was caught in a storm, his expression somewhere between panic and heartbreak.

“it wasn’t what it looked like,” he started, his voice trembling. “please, baby. you have to believe me.”

you let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense silence. “believe you? mingyu, i saw you with her. do you even know what that feels like for me?” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded.

"baby, i wasn’t—it wasn’t like that,” he stammered, taking a hesitant step forward. “she’s just a friend. she was crying about her boyfriend, and i was just trying to comfort her.”

you shook your head, the image of him leaning close to another girl still fresh in your mind. “you don’t get it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i’ve been here before. i’ve seen this before, mingyu. my ex…” your words faltered as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “my ex used to do the same thing. he’d tell me it was nothing, just a friend. and the whole time, he was—” your breath hitched as the painful memories resurfaced. "I thought you were different," you whispered timidly, mingyu doesn't miss the disappointment and heartbreak in your voice.

mingyu’s face crumpled as he took in your words. “sweetheart…” his voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion. “you think i’m like him?” his words were soft, but the hurt behind them was unmistakable.

“i don’t know what to think,” you admitted, your hands gripping your arms tighter as if to shield yourself from the pain. “when i saw you with her, it felt like i was right back there again. it felt like—like i wasn’t enough. like i never will be.”

“don’t say that.” mingyu’s voice broke, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching for yours but stopping just short, unsure if you’d let him touch you. “baby, you’re everything to me. everything. how could you even think—” his voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his shoulders trembling.

you looked down at him, his vulnerability catching you off guard. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t defensive. he was hurt—deeply hurt—and it made your chest ache in a way that felt unbearable.

“i know what he did to you,” mingyu continued, his voice barely audible. “i know how much he hurt you. and it kills me that you’d think i could ever… that you’d see me like that.” he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, glassy with unshed tears. “do you really think i could do that to you? to us?”

you hesitated, his words slowly sinking in. the mingyu you knew wasn’t like that. he wasn’t manipulative, or mean, or sneaky, or cruel. he was open, loving, and kind, and he wore his heart on his sleeve. you’d let your fears and insecurities cloud the truth, and now you could see how much it had hurt him. because mingyu would never intentionally hurt you.

“mingyu, i—” your voice faltered as you tried to find the words. “i don’t think you’re like him. i just… i got scared. i saw you with her, and it felt so familiar, and i panicked.” tears of vulnerability now stream down your face.

his hands finally found yours, and when you didn’t pull away, he clung to them like a lifeline. “i understand,” he said softly. “i just… i don’t ever want you to doubt how much you mean to me. you’re not just someone to me, my love. you’re it. you’re everything.”

the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion in his eyes, made the remaining walls around your heart crumble. slowly, you nodded, your grip on his hands tightening. “i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i shouldn’t have assumed the worst. i should’ve talked to you.”

“no, don't apologise," he said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “i should have been more aware, i should have been my careful especially knowing what you’ve been through, and i hate that i made you feel like this. but i promise, i’d never hurt you like that. i just couldn’t.” his hand reach out shakily to wipe your tears away.

"I trust you,"

and that was all mingyu needed, the relief that washed over mingyu’s face was immediate and overwhelming. he let out a breath he didnt know he had been holding, and his hands moved to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “thank you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “thank you for trusting me.”

“can we… can we just go to bed now?” he asked, his voice soft and almost shy. “i really want need to hold you.”

your chest tightened at his words, and you nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “yeah,” you whispered.

he stood up, pulling you gently to your feet and wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you feel safe, cherished. as he led you to the bedroom, you felt the weight of the misunderstanding lift, replaced by the steady warmth of his love.

when you finally settled into bed, mingyu pulled you close, his arms tight around your waist and his face buried in your hair. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion but full of certainty. “so much.”

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing soft patterns on his arm.

[ellecdc]

hey elleeeee

could i pretty please do 🐻 the sharing a bed prompt, “cuddling in their sleep” + “waking up with their faces centimetres apart”. with remus but theyre not together just pinNING for eachother and this happens.

consider it done

Remus Lupin x roommate!reader who cuddle for warmth and that's totally it [641 words]

CW: fem!reader, Remus sort of pining, but maybe it's not one sided!?!?, fluff, sort of a continuation from this post

Remus thinks he should perhaps feel a little guilty having taken advantage of the current situation; his original offer certainly hadn’t been a selfless one. 

Was the flat sodding freezing? Yes, it was. Would he have been up worrying all night that you’d died of hypothermia in your own bed? Absolutely. Was it indeed warmer having consolidated every blanket and pillow the two of you owned into one bed and sharing body heat to stay more comfortable? Damn right it was. 

But, it was because of all these aforementioned reasons that Remus felt it was perhaps a touch unethical to be enjoying his current situation as much as he did. 

The two of you were gripping each other’s hands and arms as if you were both afraid the other would simply float away had you not been holding on for dear life. The soft, cloud filtered light bathing your face in its glow; your head resting on one of his pillows he hoped to god smelled like you, now, that was but a few measly centimetres away from his own face. 

He found himself nearly holding his breath as though he was afraid to disturb the peace of this moment, one that he'd been fighting against yet secretly yearning for since he realised how much he enjoyed your presence; perhaps a bit too much to be simply considered roommates, or even just friends. 

He catalogued the way your eyelashes fanned from beneath your closed eyes and kissed the tops of your cheeks, fluttering ever so slightly when something would happen in your dream. He revelled in the way that you seemed to be smiling, even in your sleep; your lips relaxed and pursed ever so slightly as you breathed through your nose. 

Your nose - it was stupid and foolish and silly, but fuck - he loved your nose.

And this might well and truly be the one and only time he got to enjoy you like this, so sue him for what he did next.

He hardly had to move at all, really, he simply pushed his chin forward so that his nose bumped into yours. He was checking, you see, because he knew his nose was cold from the cool air surrounding your nest of pillows and blankets and body heat, but he needed to see if yours was too. He couldn’t in good conscience sit here and admire your nose if you were about to lose it to frostbite, now could he? 

Remus found himself smiling at the fact that your nose, for whatever reason, was slightly warmer than his. Good, he thought, I’d like her to keep her nose. 

“You’re supposed t’be sleeping.” You blurt rather suddenly for Remus’ tastes, still never opening your eyes as Remus rears his head back, though you strengthen your hold on his hands and arms so that he can’t actually move away from you.

“How long have you been awake?” He accuses you instead of admitting he was being a creepy fuck and watching you sleep.

You don’t answer him, though. Instead, you let out a languid stretch before releasing your hold of his hands in favour of wrapping your arms around his torso and slotting yourself against him; legs tangled with his and your nose - colder than the skin of his collarbone - pushing into his neck as you tucked yourself under his chin. 

“Go t’sleep, Rem.” You order him, tightening your hold around his chest as he allows his arms to cautiously encircle you in his own embrace; one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, and the other cupping the back of your head lovingly. 

He didn’t follow your order, unfortunately. But he did spend the rest of the morning wondering, hoping, nearly begging the universe that perhaps this might not be the last time he gets to enjoy you like this.

[ssentimentals]

scoups 15 + 13 (fluff) prompt please?? i love your writing btw <3

hi cheri! thank you for your kind words :) and thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'do you like my new dress/suit?' - 'you're mine.'

'can this even be called a dress? it's just... a tiny piece of fabric,' you frown, turning whatever you have in your hands and showing it off to seungcheol. 'are you sure?'

'i want to show you off,' seungcheol shrugs like his words are not making your heart beat faster. 'i think it looked pretty, so i got it. if it doesn't fit we can just return it, babe. but i think you'll look amazing in it.' seeing how you're still doubtful, he leans in, pecking your lips. 'just wanna show everyone that you're mine, yeah? so try it on for me, please.'

still not sure, you nod. 'okay. turn around though.'

seungcheol chuckles. 'i think i saw everything and got very intimate with each part of your body, no?'

'cheol!' you squeal, hitting his shoulder. 'turn around i said!'

he laughs but complies, giving you at least some image of privacy as you change from your gym clothes to this. it takes you a while to understand how this dress works due to many cuts in it but eventually you manage to pull it on. it is... daring. definitely not something what you'd choose yourself and surely not something your ex-boyrfiend would ever approve. but seungcheol is different; seungcheol wants people to look at you, gains sick satisfaction from knowing that all they can do is just look, not touch. it makes your heart flutter in your chest, if you are honest. with a deep inhale, you clear your throat, trying to go for a fake cheery voice: 'i'm done, you can turn. what do you think? do you like my new dress?'

the way seungcheol licks his lips as he looks you up and down gives you a very clear answer to your question, but he is kind enough to voice out his thoughts as well: 'baby. baby, you look good enough to eat.'

it makes you smile and relax a little; confidence slowly comes back to you. 'yeah?'

'yeah.' seungcheol steps closer, gazing at you like he doesn't know where to look. 'gorgeous, my girl. utterly gorgeous.'

you smile, leaning to his touch. 'enough to make everyone else jealous?'

seungcheol's eyes sparkle at this and he grins, proud. 'more than enough, my lady. more than enough.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[fairytsuk1]

no caller id | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: ghostface, exhibition/voyeurism, stalking

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 6.1k

warnings: scream!au, mentions of murder and violence, stalking, exhibition and voyeurisms, stockholm syndrome, friends to lovers, masturbation, phone sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, condom usage

There were few things you and Alex disagreed on. You had your moments, sure, but you were thick as thieves. Anyone and everyone could see that. You were his, and he was yours, “it’s totally not romantic, just platonic companionship!”

So, you got along well. Horror movies, though… That was one unfortunate, disagreeable thing between you two. You would go all in with the popcorn and the candy and top it off with a fuzzy blanket draped over your form. Alex would signify his leave the minute you got comfortable before acquiescing and sitting next to you, face anxious and full of fear as he sat still.

He just wasn’t the type of person to indulge in such media. That’s why seeing Alex so enthralled in the Ghostface killings happening around town was so utterly shocking. He flips his phone towards you, and you’re graced with gory crime scene photos and a news article, “Alex! I don’t wanna see that.”

Alex sighs and nods before showing you another photo as he leans across your countertops. He’d come over for a late-night study session, but after too many Celsius drinks, it was safe to say that you were not going to pass your exam.

“This happened right by your dorm! You should see, you’ve gotta stay safe with that killer out there.”

He says it in the midst of your kitchen, wearing your too-big t-shirt and too-big sweatpants. He was fretting over you. It’s so domestic, your heart squeezes at the fond way he gazes at you; he’s warmth and love that tastes like the finest wine. You couldn’t get too distracted admiring the dotted freckles on his cheeks and wisps of dark hair, no. That wasn’t platonic of you. You shake your head, “I don’t care. I just don’t wanna get freaked out by that stuff.”

Alex hums and scrolls some more. He’s withholding, and your fingers come to poke at his ribs, “what?”

“You probably don’t want to know who died then, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him an incredulous look with raised eyebrows. Alex makes a face and looks away before snapping back to look at you. He hems and haws before the words slip past his lips faster than he can stand them.

“Carlos Rodriguez, ring a bell? Says here he was dismembered walking home–”

“Oh god! Stop, that’s…” horrifying.

“That was the guy you went on a date with,” he pops a grape into his mouth like it was the most casual thing in the world, “right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was.”

He observes you for a moment. Your eyes look guilty, and he can’t place why. It makes something inside of him twinge. He’s rounding the counter in seconds and wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a protective embrace. Alex smells like warm musk, spicy with a hint of cinnamon. You instinctively curl towards him and bury your face in his neck. He was always comforting.

Alex preens when you go in for the hug, feeling your chest squish against his as he pulls you close to him, “it’s alright. He’s in a better place now! You have me; I’ll keep you safe.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. As if Ghostface would come after the two of you. You try not to hone in on his ‘you have me.’ He was considerate of your feelings and wanted to make you feel safe. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. His hand rubs small circles on your back, and you shudder, pressing closer to his warmth.

You both stay like that. Alex keeps you enveloped within him for as long as he can, purring soft comforts into the shell of your ear. His lips brush against the sensitive skin before he picks you up into his arms and drags you to the couch. 

“Come on. It’s movie night!”

It doesn’t really leave your mind, though, even as you sidle up close to Alex while re-watching your favorite movies.

“And you’ve known Alex for how long?”

A gaggle of your friends sit around your dorm, Christina being the first to start the interrogation. It’d been a week since Carlos had been killed, and you’d been spending all your time with Alex. It was for safety, you said. It’s just so nothing happens, you reiterated. Your friends knew better.

“Five years? Six?”

“Oh my god! He wants to date you,” Imane exclaims. “It’s obvious, he buys your lunch, you guys cuddle: you just need to man up!”

“Woman up,” Noah emphasizes before sipping on his beer. “But I agree, he’s got it bad for you.”

You sit in the center with flushed cheeks, “we’re just friends, guys!”

“Friends who wanna fuck,” Christina adds with a laugh.

“But isn’t it suspicious he hasn’t made a move yet? Like, what’s he waiting for?”

“Guys, come on. He’s not bad or suspicious or anything! He’s just shy…”

You defend your man, but Noah blurts out the unthinkable. The inconceivable.

“Maybe he’s Ghostface!”

The silence was deafening against your speakers, humming a tune of bedroom pop; you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You all pin Noah with a deep stare. How could he say that?

“That’s not funny, Noah.”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m just saying maybe he doesn’t want to date you because he’s too busy chopping up people’s bodies or something.”

“Noah! Enough,” you cry with hands covering your ears. “I’m not listening to you! I don’t want to listen to you.”

“Listennn, I like the guy. Trust-wise? He’s on my list.”

What if he was? Can you tell? You’re not sure, and you think about it for a while. There was something about the Ghostface persona that you’d initially joked about being hot, but that was before it hit so close to home. You were unsure and unsettled. Alex couldn’t be capable of something so horrid. He was your best friend and, admittedly, your crush. It just wasn’t believable.

You’re stuck in your head for the rest of the kickback. Alex had said he couldn’t come; he was “swamped with homework.” It wasn’t exactly believable since you shared a Google Calendar together: even more definitive proof of you two toeing the line between friends and lovers, a sentiment echoed by your friend group.

The sun sets into an inky black night, and your friends are filed out of the room. You’re left alone and freezing. A hot shower might do you some good. You take your time. The bathroom fills with its warm steam as you turn the knob and let your clothes drop one by one. Your phone rings. Your wrist is dampened from the brief spray of water, pulling out your arm to decline the call.

They call again, and you’re huffing as you swing your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a gritty voice filters through and purrs your name. “Getting ready for bed?”

You know in your heart who it is. That telltale voice, the way he repeated your name… Ghostface had asked you a question, and your legs tremble as your mouth gapes, “it’s in your best interest to answer.”

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you squeak out.

“That’s nice. I like your panties. Teddy bears? How cute.”

“How do you know that?”

Your voice is firm, yet its slightest wobble makes Ghostface chuckle. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. The shower drips and sputters in the background as your breathing grows heavier. It was impossible.

“Let’s play a game. Tell me your favorite scary movie.”

Unshed tears glisten in your eyes, “I don’t want to.”

“You have to. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know! Please, I don’t–”

“I’m not gonna kill you, so just answer the fucking question, pretty girl.”

Rivulets of tears stream down your cheeks as you choke out an answer. The panic and sickening arousal courses through you. He kept complimenting you, making you feel all gooey inside, all while the threat of his power loomed over you like a fog that grew thicker every moment you stood in fear. He grew on your fear, he devoured it whole.

“I like the Chucky movies.”

Ghostface laughs, and it’s so familiar, but then he’s going from joyful to mad as he teases you over the phone.

“Ah, with the doll? Not as big of a fan of me, hmm?”

“Y-You’re scaring me,” you whisper, phone clenched in your fist. “What do you want from me?”

There’s a deep pause before he continues.

“I just wanted to play with you before bed. You should show yourself off more,” he hums and then sighs. “Enjoy the shower, pretty.”

He can’t help but add, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

Click. Ghostface hangs up, and your dreadful face stares back at you in the mirror. Were you meant to feel slick between your thighs as Ghostface lulled sweet compliments towards your body? No, it was wrong! It was so bad that you had to gnaw on your lip to prevent yourself from pressing the “call back” button.

Water streams down your forehead and nose, pooling at your feet before sliding down the drain. Your hands run through your soaked strands with a slight tremble as you sniffle, wondering if that murderer stands under a similar stream of water to watch crimson flow down the drain. You can’t get it out of your head as you towel off and slip on silky pajamas. Your heavy body sinks into the covers, and you stare at the ceiling. It’s almost on instinct for you to reach over with a huff and pull up Alex’s contact.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” you murmur as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Will you come over?”

You can hear him yawn, and you’re quick to apologize even as he waves you off, “don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Barely ten minutes pass by before a gentle knock sounds at your door. There’s a stream of light as he enters that shines and is then blown out when he closes the door behind him.

Alex tiptoes in, toeing his shoes off by the door, “I’m here.”

You’re already breathing heavily and scooting over to give him more room. Alex looks at your sleepy eyes that stare back at him in the dark, joining you and slipping under your fluffy duvet to get close to you. You aren’t touching, but you’re so damn close. You need him closer, and the need to feel his skin against yours is overwhelming your entire being.

“Can we cuddle?”

Alex adjusts with his head on his hand, arm bent, and lying on your pillow as you snuggle a little closer, “yeah. C’mere.”

A buff arm wraps around your figure, and it’s heavenly. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his freshly showered scent, making you instantly relax in his arms. Your feet tangle with his, and he lets out a soft hiss at the cool feeling of your toes against his ankles. You both fall asleep, tangled in soft breaths, and the comfort of muscle looped around you. As you dream of nothingness, it then turns into something hapless.

“...Alex?”

Your voice is dreamy and wispy. You can hardly speak out, let alone yell out. Ghostface and Alex sit facing each other, and you call louder, eyes fluttering and blurring as you draw closer. You know it’s a dream, but you can’t help but take it as fact, as reality.

“What are you doing?”

They both turn towards you, Ghostface’s mask shaped in a long, menacing grin as he tilts his head towards you. Blood starts seeping from the edges of the mask and runs down its contours as it continues staring into your soul. You turn towards Alex, horrified to see him with a sickening grin as ruby red drops splatter on his face, “what’s wrong?”

There’s no reply as they both reach for you in a desperate bid to make you join whatever fucked-up seated circle they were reveling in. Revelling. That was the reason Alex was smiling. You awake with a gasping start.

It’s hard to focus on classes, on homework, on your relationships. You’d be holed up in libraries and study rooms with your ringer on in case another killing happened. They did happen, two in the same week. You couldn’t stop thinking, wondering if he’d sweet-talked his victims before brutally shoving the knife in deep till the fight leaked out of them. Did he call them, too?

You’d have told anyone, but there was no one to tell. Your friends would encourage you to tell the police, and there was no excuse for hiding something as crucial as a phone call from Ghostface. You’d be vilified within seconds. You couldn’t tell Alex, and it wasn’t even your fault. Alex had been distant. Busy, he’d said. Liar, you bit back.

He blew you off on the days you typically get lunch. He packed his bag up quickly as he bid you goodbye. The eye bags on his face only got darker and deeper, you were feeling worried. Maybe he was just as affected by the killings as you were. Just as affected by Ghostface as you were. It was still hurtful.

It hurt even more, knowing that your heart would beat rabbit fast at the thought of him. It was clear now, crystal. You liked Alex; you only wanted Alex. You thought this was mutual. You cuddled, were close, and shared your first kiss at a dumb high school party. Maybe he didn’t feel the same or care about your crestfallen expression as he urged ahead to leave class early.

You tried to repeat to yourself that he was just busy. Though you were unaware of it in his absence, Ghostface had you right where he wanted you. Open, pliable and all his. The phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Ghostface elongates your name, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. “How are you?”

You should just hang up. You shouldn’t even entertain it, he needed to leave you alone. You press the phone closer to your ear.

“Please, stop calling me!”

“Mmm, no. I want to talk to you. Don’t deny me.”

“You just wanna talk because you’re a freak,” you retort and sit up in bed with your hands angrily fisting the sheets. “Leave me alone.”

“Freak?”

Ghostface bursts into a peal of deep laughter. It’s mocking, and you wonder if he’s watching you.

“The only freak here is you refusing to hang up the phone.”

“I-I’m not refusing! I’ll hang up right now–”

“But you won’t,” he interjects quickly. “I know you won’t.”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I’ll call the police!”

“I know you won’t do that, either.”

He’s right. You’re too stricken and impulsive, fighting every word he says with a monologue. Your teeth worry your lips as you take a deep breath, “are you watching me right now? Like in the shower?”

“Yes,” his breathing seems deeper. “I’m watching you right now. You look fantastic.”

“I’m just in my pajamas.”

“I like how they look.”

You shouldn’t indulge in this any longer. It was so wrong, and you were making yourself so vulnerable. Socked feet cross as you turn to glance out your window; there’s nothing there.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

A hand that has a mind of its own comes to the hem of your shirt. The mingled breaths between you two nearly echo on the call, and you’re slipping a hand under the cotton to touch your stomach.

“That’s a nice sight,” and there’s a rustling of fabric as he seemingly shifts positions. “What do you think you’re doing, hmm?”

“Testing you. If you were gonna kill me, you would’ve done it when I was in the shower.”

“I’m not so cliché.”

“Really? I beg to differ,” and you’re not sure where the confidence comes to set your phone down and peel your top off from your body.

Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air. You sit with your chest exposed and a rapid heartbeat, quickly putting the phone to your ear just to catch the briefest groan, “are you still there?”

“Of course. Take off your shorts.”

His command makes you hesitate. Were you really going to go through with this? Ghostface’s voice crackles in the still air, “don’t be shy.”

The drawstring is undone in seconds, loose fabric slipping down your thighs to your ankles before you unceremoniously kick them away.

“There, I did it,” you whisper as if someone was listening to your debauched call. There’s a long stretch of silence and rustling. “Hello?”

“You look really sexy like this,” he whispers in a breathy tone.

If you listen even closer, the wet squelch of him fisting his cock is obvious. Your hand starts at your collarbone and dips to squeeze your tits, “aah…!”

“Play with them, let me see.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s watching you from God knows where; your eyes slip closed as pathetic mewls escape your lips with every grope of your fingers.

“A-Ah, fuck,” you whisper before laying back to let another hand follow the curve of your sternum to the flat of your tummy. Ghostface openly moans when your manicure nails brush against your waistband. He moves his hand faster; you’re intoxicated by every ‘thwip’ of his fist as he jerks off.

“I wish I could touch,” his grunts echo, and he teases himself lewdly with his thumb running over his leaky slit. “I-I’ll fuck you so good.”

Your clit is throbbing when you finally start rubbing pathetic little circles. Writhing, your lips part to breathily whine out, “Ghostfaceee!”

“Ohmy, fuck. Put them inside. Fuck yourself, pretty.”

It’s easy to do what he says, your whole greedily sucks your fingers in deep. Your hand tweaks your nipple while your toes dig into your plush bed, “fffuck me! Oh my god, feels so good!”

“Gonna blow my load all over you—ngh, shit. I can’t wait to touch you for real. Yeah, yeah; fuck. Soak ’em for me.”

Ghostface’s rambling spurs you on, and your fingers rub right against that spongy spot that makes you convulse and gush all over your hand.

“Oh, fuuuck!”

Your face presses hard into the pillows as he cums. You could imagine his hips popping up as he came all over his knuckles. A few minutes pass, and the only thing audible is your mingling breath while you both come down from your eyes.

The phone is pressed to your ear as you eagerly ask if he’s still there.

“I am,” he says slowly. “Have a good night.”

“W-Wait!”

You call back several times, but they all go unanswered. He leaves you spoiled and naked in bed with a slick drying on your inner thighs.

The post-nut clarity left you sleepless and wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

The guilt wears down on you like a weighted blanket; every square inch of your body can’t stop imagining the voice, and the guilt coats you in another heavy layer of shame. You try to fight back, but the fabric is never-ending, and you’re useless against its power.

You had to tell someone. Anyone. It has to be Alex; no one else needs to know anything other than him.

[you]: hey

[you]: will you come over?

[you]: need to talk to you

[alex]: be there in a few <3

The heart makes you smile. Locking your phone and setting it aside, you tug your knees to your chest in waiting. How would you tell him? More like admitting to him since you were undoubtedly hiding this fact of admiration because it was so shameful and wrong. Alex knocks lightly on your door, and your voice is shaky when you call, “come in!”

He looks calm, if a bit confused. Alex’s eyes scan you before sitting beside you on your plush bed. He always looks at you with those amber eyes that show pure devotion.

“What’s got you all wound up, huh?”

A gentle hand releases your knees from your embrace, Alex’s arm slinking past the back of your neck to cup you close by the shoulder. You tuck yourself into his side with ease. He hums for a bit, rousing you with a shake.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, it’s just… I don’t know. Something happened.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes! I’m okay,” you take a deep breath, and your head tilts up to peer at him with anxious eyes. “Just don’t freak out that bad, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, only maintaining eye contact as his thumb rubs circles into your soft skin.

“Ghostface… called me. We had a conversation.”

“...What?”

He says your name with a laugh, “you probably just got prank called!”

“No, Alex. I’m serious! Please,” you grab his shirt and tug him so close that your noses brush. “I talked to Ghostface, seriously. You need to believe me.”

“How do you even know it was really him, hm?”

Oh, you knew. The telltaletelltale scratchy voice. The deep, mirthy laugh. How he coaxed you to orgasm through simple words of, “you can go harder than that; I’ve seen you.”

“I-I just know. It was him, he was stalking me.”

“Okay… so Ghostface is coming after you?”

“I don’t know what he’s planning! I guess so,” you bury your face into his beauty mark-dotted neck. “I don’t know what to do. What if he’s just waiting to kill me?”

“No way. He’d be stupid, you already told me. I’m, like, almost a witness to it.”

That was true. Now that Alex knew if anything happened… you’d have someone to back you up. You squeeze him in gratefulness.

“Then what should I do? Hire a bodyguard!?”

“I don’t think you have bodyguard money,” he teases. “But I can always walk with you anywhere, everywhere. And what if–no, never mind.”

“Alex, you need to tell me everything you’re thinking,” you urge.

He looks apprehensive, teeth tugging his lip between them to gnaw at the sensitive skin. He looks all around your room, his eyes landing on a framed photo of the two of you at an amusement park. Alex is grinning while holding a peace sign; your hair flies wildly and without abandon as the sun shines down on you two, “what if we found a way to catch him? You know, set a bait.”

Your face twists up immediately.

“Bait? I’d be the bait! This is a horrible idea–”

“Hear me out! I’d be waiting there and see if he shows up. You could make sure it’s obvious you’re alone. Ghostface comes, I tackle him, and boom! We call the police, and he’s finally gonna be held accountable.”

Alex eyes you, “what do you say?”

It was such a dumb idea. Every part of you screaming to lock the door and shut the blinds. But you don’t. Alex texts you periodically to check in, but the plan was just an unsafe waste of time for a while. But your phone rings at half past eleven.

“...Hello?”

“Hiya,” he croons your name, and your blood runs cold.

“I’m hanging up!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I’ll gut Alex myself.

You whimper, “I don’t want to die!”

“Then play a game with me. How about warmer or colder?”

It gives you a sickening pause. You held Alex and your own life in the palm of your hands, the threat of losing what means most to you evident. Your valued life and love would be lost through the gaps of your fingers like rivulets of clear water. You stand.

You had to be brave for both of you.

“Are you in my apartment?”

“Now, you’re playing,” and he chuckles over the phone.

A thick gulp sticks in your throat as you swallow. Something takes you to the kitchen where you peer around the corner to gaze into the yellow-lighted tiles and counters filled to the brim with your things, “colder.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Ghostface has no reply. You move away from the kitchen, soft steps padding against the ground like a knowing prey animal. You glance at the living room, eyes scanning for a Ghostface-shaped hiding spot.

“Warmer,” his voice lulls, and he sounds so fucking amused that it makes your heart clench.

“Where’s Alex?”

Ghostface has no reply, and you frustratedly groan at him over the phone, “watch your tone.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re bratty today, hm? All wound up over Alex?”

“Just stop talking about him!”

It makes warmth spread all past your cheeks and ears. You venture forward and stare at the looming hallway before you. Finally, you registered the tremble in your knees as they knocked against each other.

“Hot.”

Your hall closet stares menacingly at you, and your stomach drops. You got to turn, but his voice commands you to stop, “freezing!”

There’s a shake in your lip as your ears fill with salty tears that threaten to spill over onto your cheeks. You blink them away and take step by step closer. Breathing grows heavy and restricted before you’re standing before the hall closet.

“You’re on fire.”

The door is yanked open forcefully, revealing beige and white towels with silk sheets. There was no one there. He lied! Only then, does Ghostface leap from your bedroom door to wrap his arms around you from behind. You try to scream, but a gloved hand slots easily over your mouth as he begins to tug you.

You kick and scream and cry like a petulant child as you fight with all your power. He doesn’t seem all that interested in your pleas. He only grunts softly as you land whack upon whack on him. However, he’s undeterred as he hoists you up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.

“No! No, lemme go! Let. Me. Go!”

“Come on,” he drawls your name as he lays you flat and helpless on your back against the couch.

He easily fits over you and pins your wrists to the fluff of the furniture. The two of you stare at each other, and you’re panting wildly with fear and adrenaline. Ghostface adjusts to straddle you, sinking down till his hips are flush against yours.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“A-About what?”

“Fucking me. I know you have, you wanna know how I know?”

“Yes! Yes, please, just–”

The mask is ripped away to reveal a harsh, shocking truth. It’s Alex, sweaty with matted hair that sticks to his forehead. You nearly go limp from the shock and stress as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, “don’t shy away from me, now. You weren’t like this earlier.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand! W-What’s going on, ‘lex?”

You murmur his nickname desperately, watching as he gnaws on his plush bottom lip. His lip trembles as he peers at you, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists. You wiggle a hand free and wrap it around his shoulders, your hand splaying flat against his back and holding him protectively, “but why?”

“I needed you,” he croaks. “I needed you to realize you want me.”

He starts nosing at your neck, lips planting gentle kisses on the smooth expanse of your throat. A weak whine rises and dies from your lips.

“Alex, I–wait, this is!I–”

“What you’ve been craving, right? What you’ve been needing.”

He sucks on your pulse point, and you arch lewdly into his all-encompassing black robes. He’s sticky with spit as he collides the two of you together into a heady kiss.

It’s all you’ve been wanting, but it’s all the wrong circumstances. He presses with such need into you, such desperation; your mouth slips open wider to tangle with his syrupy tongue.

“That’s it,” he huffs and lightly rocks his bulge against your sweatpants.

He’s so hard, you can feel him shudder as he presses forward again to lightly hump against you.

“Wanted to just have you all to myself.”

He joins you once again to heavily make out, both of you growing more and more eager by the second. You bury yourself within him, his hand groping your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Alex tugs your earlobe with his teeth. “Every time we cuddled, hugged… I just wanted to fuck you to tears.”

It makes such a hot moan escape, your toes curling as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yes, I needed you more than I could stand!”

Alex’s hands are eager as they skim your stomach to reveal more of your glowing skin. He bites his lip in anticipation, observing as the shirt reveals your perky tits; he can’t help but latch his mouth to your budding nipple and suck.

“Oh, fuuck. Alex, shit.”

“Feels good, right? Mmm, love how these feel.”

He grins before diving in and peppering love bites and suckles along your sensitive skin. Buff arms wrap around your middle and pull you closer, teeth grazing the underside of your tit; he laves a dark mark and pulls away with a wide smirk.

You realize Alex’s clothing is still on. You’re tugging his robes up the minute your eyes are able to focus–he was a god with his tongue, and you needed it more than just toying with your boobs.

“You need to take this, ngh, off.”

“Yeah, you want it off?”

“Don’t tease me, ‘lex. I wanna see you. Not Ghostface.

It gives Alex pause, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pulls back to look at you.

“... You really mean it?”

“Yes,” you purr. “I really do.”

Alex quickly tugs off his draping outfit, sighing as his bare, caramel chest is given its glory. Suddenly, you see him for who he is. A man, a man you’re soaking your panties for. You need him like a fish needs water.

The two of you meld together like it’s all you’ve ever known. In a way, Alex is all you’ve ever known.

Your hands greedily feel him up, squishing his pecks and running your thumb over his hardening nipples. His hips pop once with a meek whimper escaping him, “I-I should be doing this to you.”

“But you’re not,” you taunt and latch your mouth to his chest and suck.

A keening whimper escapes Alex as his fingers tangle into your tresses, pushing his chest further into your tongue with a whine.

The two of you meet in a sloppy kiss, Alex pushing you onto your back as he leaves love bites down your neck. He leaves more on the other side of your breast, sucking soft, supple skin to leave bruises of remembrance.

Alex pauses, his eyes flickered to yours and a steamy gaze, “can I… Can I eat you out?”

It doesn’t feel weird, even if he’s your best friend. Your knees fall apart wider as you give a shy nod, “y-yeah. Be gentle—I’m sensitive.”

He hums and levels with your pussy. Alex’s right hand comes to entangle with yours as his breath fans over your soaked panties. You both stare in a terse, heated moment before he’s licking with the flat of his tongue.

“Ooh! Shit…!”

Alex makes it sloppy while teasing you over soaked cotton. His smirk is evident when you cry out and practically crush his hand as he laves over your swollen clit.

“You taste like candy,” he pulls your panties to the side with a groan. “And you’re so wet.”

“You’re embarrassing me—aah! Ohmygod, ‘lex!”

He dives in like a man starved, and in a way he is. Alex slurps messily at your folds, tongue swirling your creamy hole before sucking your clit into his hot, wet mouth.

Your fingers grip and tug ferociously as you grind your cunt against his face. Alex’s eyes slip closed as he loses himself in you, his adept tongue working you open.

It burns hot and white as your stomach clenches. You ride his face, and he lets you, “‘lex!! ‘M gonna cum!”

There’s a wet, inaudible groan, and Alex is pressing his tongue at your entrance and tongue-fucking you. The hot strand of pressure snaps, and you cum with a needy cry.

“Alex,” you sob out, knees squeezing his head as he helps you through your orgasm. “C-Can’t! Too much, please!—”

He pulls away with a glistening mouth and jaw. He’s so hard in just his boxers, and you can taste yourself as you bring him in for a messy kiss.

“I can’t believe I just,” you cut him off with another desperate peck, “mmf—just ate you out.”

“Don’t brag about it,” you murmur against his lips before he settles back on his haunches.

Alex starts to claim he’s not “bragging,” but you hone in on the reveal of his thick, bobbing cock after freeing it from his boxers. The fat tip smears pre-cum on his navel and your mouth waters. God, you needed him.

He fishes out a condom from his black robes, and you draw close to help roll it on. He’s hot to the touch and shivers at how your hand barely wraps around him, “thank you.”

Your hand is still on his dick as you smile up at him. Alex gives you a tender grin before motioning you to lie back. He uncoils like a snake, stretching across you to lay between your legs. His dick just barely brushes your throbbing clit, and you jump at the contact. Alex swallows and seems nervous as he grips his base.

“I-I love you,” he says. “I love you.”

The world seems to stop for a moment. You stare into the galaxy of brown amber held in his eyes.

You can hardly breathe, and you swear your heart’s crawling up your throat and about to beat past your lips. Alex’s eyes search yours for something, anything. You hadn’t realized how silent you’ve been, “I love you, too.”

Alex laughs and scoots a little closer, his cock head just barely pressing against your fluttering hole.

“God, you really made me nervous there.”

“You’re about to be inside me! I wasn’t ready for a confession…”

Alex kisses your pout away and sinks into you with a hefty groan, “holy shit.”

You’re scratching his back from the deliciously sinful way he stretches you out. With the legs looped around his hips, he starts to shallowly thrust. His dick plunge is deep and drags heavy amidst your spasming gummy walls.

“Fuck me, oh, yes!”

“Ngh,” he grunts, and his hips are hitting yours with punishing claps.

Alex makes you submit, laying there in a writhing heap as you take him in your guts. His hips angle upwards, and he’s battering your g-spot while uttering sweet nothings into your ear, “you’re such a good girl. Ah, ah, fuck; c-can’t believe I’m fucking your pretty pussy.”

Your lips are swollen red and parted as Alex fills you entirely over and over and over! You cling to him in a pathetic embrace, barely able to keep your eyes open while staccato moans fill Alex’s ear.

“Alex, I-I can’t for m-much—ooh!! Ohgod, gonna cum…!”

In between your sweaty, grinding bodies, Alex’s sneaky hand slinks down to messily rub your clit, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His voice shakes with a compliment, and his thumb presses his hard circles on your sensitive nub. It’s enough to break you down in a mix of cries and sobs as you cum all over him, “oh fuu-huh-ck!”

Alex inhales sharply, chasing his own high as your walls squeeze him during your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. Baby, I—!!”

He lets out a whimpering squeak before burying deep and emptying his balls inside the condom. He thrusts once, twice, before collapsing down onto you with panting breaths on his lips.

You both are exhausted. Your bare foot presses against the cool plastic of his mask, and you blurt your question before you can even think.

“Did you really kill all those people?”

He doesn’t look at you, merely planting kiss after kiss on your exposed skin, “I did it all for you.”

There’s no guilt or apprehension this time. Only the way your heart sings with love.

-

“It’s hard to say whether Ghostface had help this time,” the newscaster reports. “But, it’s an ongoing reminder to lock your doors and report any suspicious activity…”

The screen goes black as Alex laughs and cuts the TV off. Your eyes trace his features, the delicate curve of his nose, and the slope of his lips; he is stunning. Neither of you speak of the mutual dried flecks of blood on each other’s cheeks.

[sysig]

Growing closer than expected (Patreon)

[the-kr8tor]

Hii I have short drabble prompt how about the reader makes plushies of them and Hobie similar people making hello Kitty of themselves and partner hope having good day/night

Hi, lovely! I hope this is what you meant! Thank you for requesting ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, subtle talk of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The ribbon in your hands is soft and silky to the touch. Your music blares in your ears as you wrap his anniversary present, you still can't believe that you and Hobie have been going strong for a year now. A year full of love and annoying each other with teasing remarks. You smile at the fond memories flitting through your mind like a film roll showing you all the best bits.

Finally tying the ribbon to perfection, you stare proudly at how well you packaged his gift. The box is covered in checkered wrapping paper with the ribbon in the same ruby hue. Now that you're staring at it, the present looks more like a Christmas gift than an anniversary present.

Your pride takes a hit, shoulders slumping down at the thought. “Shit.” Now you gotta start all over again, preferably with new wrapping paper. Maybe something that has hearts on it will be better? Or something that matches with the gift you've painstakingly worked hard on for weeks will fit better? Or will that be too on the nose?

Thinking very hard on a very hard decision, you don't hear the sound of keys outside your flat, and the unmistakable jiggle of the doorknob as it opens with a squeak.

“You need some oil on this, lovie—” he stops in his tracks when you don't immediately greet him with a hug or a loud ‘Hobie!’ the second he enters. He finds it…weird to not be cuddled right away. You've spoilt him.

Hobie tilts his head to the side, peeking through the open kitchen only to not find you whistling a tune while making something sweet. Pocketing the spare key you gave him so that he stops popping up from your fire escape, he crosses the modest flat in hopes of finding you. Lest his surprise goes to waste, or worse, eaten by London pigeons.

Knocking on the bedroom door, he calls your name sweetly with a sing-song lilt. Of course he didn't forget what day it is today. How could he when it's been marked on his calendar since the day you said yes to him being your boyfriend? He has been counting down the days, annoyingly so to the gang at spider society, who are probably waiting for the news on how the day went.

“Love?” He peeks inside when you don't answer, he knows you're in there when he can hear the blaring music from where he's standing. A grin spreads across his pierced lips, seeing how your hips are gently swaying to the music, arms crossed in front of you like you're in deep contemplation.

Sneaking in, it doesn't take much for him to go unnoticeable by you when your music is ear burstingly loud. He looks over your shoulder to look at what's got your pants in a twist, his eyes widens when he sees the finely wrapped gift, grin getting bigger at how excited he is to open it.

But before he could surprise you, hoping that he'll hear you screech so loud that the neighbours would complain about the noise, you're unfurling the ribbon already with a gentle tug.

“Wait— oi!” He immediately wraps his arms around your middle, effectively stopping you from opening his present. Your shocked scream pierces his eardrums more than your music.

“Holy— Hobie?!”

“That's right, lovie.” He smirks at your shocked expression. When you tilt your head to look at him, he presses a surprise kiss on the tip of your nose, effectively flustering you in his arms.

You swear your legs would've given out if not for his arms around you. “What— you're early!”

“Y’know what they say, early bird gets the present.” He chuckles at your forced laugh. “‘sides, I think ‘m late because you're already openin’ my present.”

“How presumptuous,” you lean against his warm chest, mirroring his grin. “Maybe this isn't yours.”

“You sure that's not my name on the card?”

“I'm pretty sure it's not your name.” You tamp down a chuckle.

“Who’s it for then?” He raises a brow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Ned?”

“Close, it's for James.”

“That bloody wanker doesn't even know your last name!” He squeezes you tighter, lifting you up from your feet, and face nuzzling the crook of your neck, effectively tickling you.

“And you do?!” You say in between laughter, riling him up further.

He stops for reprieve and air, still squeezing you in his arms. “Fuck yeah I do!”

“What is it then, Mr. Brown?” You raise your chin at him like you're challenging him.

“You just said it, love.” Your cheeks feel like it's on fire, smile faltering for a second before it's replaced with a lopsided grin. “Or it'll be in a few years I bet.”

You bite your lip to tamp down any giddy laughter from escaping. “Care to bet good money on it?”

“Nah, it'll be cheatin’ because I already know I'll win.” He winks at you all suave like, and pressing another chaste yet affectionate kiss on your searing cheek. Letting you go, and fixing your balance once his arms aren't around you anymore, he walks towards his gift. “What's this then?”

“It wouldn't make sense if I told you now, Hobie.” You sigh out, completely lovestruck with him that your legs refuse to stand up as you plummet down on the bed with a squeak.

Hobie picks the box up gingerly, “why were you openin’ it?”

You shrug on the mattress. “I thought it looked too Christmas-ssy. I was about to change the wrapping until you shocked me into a near heart attack.”

“‘cus of all the red?” He's trying incredibly hard not to rip the wrapping open to see his present. He sits down next to you with your gift gingerly placed on his lap.

“Mm-hmm,” you lay on your side, cheek squished on the bed. “You can open it, you know.”

“Thank fuck, I was holdin’ back.”

He's much more gentle at opening the gift even though he's itching to see what's inside. In the end the wrapping is still intact and the ribbon is wrapped around his head like a bandana, courtesy of a playful you.

“Fuckin' hell, is that me?” He looks at the inside of the box then to you, “and…You!” His childish giggling echoes around your room. You smile as he lifts both plushies up from its cardboard confinement. “Did you make these?” Hobie holds them up side by side.

His plushie is as soft and cuddly as the real one, complete with his regular spiky and leather fit. His eyes are buttons that are in the same shade as his hazel ones, you've even captured his signature smirk through the stitching. Yours is just as accurate as the real one, you're wearing your favourite outfit, the one you wore on your first real date with him. But with the added touch of his spiked bracelet that he gave you on your third date with him. All made by you from scratch.

A sudden shyness envelopes you like a blanket. Hands clammy and chest heavy. “Do you like them?”

“Love,” he makes a face, wordlessly saying 'really?’ with his handsome face. “I fuckin' love it!” Pouncing on you, he embraces you as he lays atop you. Calloused hands cradling your cheeks whilst he peppers your face with warm and affectionate kisses. “You're a bloody wizard, how the fuck did you make these so perfectly?” He says as he lifts himself above you, beaming down at you with endearment.

“I had to stare at your picture for hours on end.” You act like it was a tedious task. You loved making the plushies with all of your heart.

“A win win then?” Tilting his head, he can't help but smile even more that his cheeks are starting to hurt.

“Absolutely.” You say with a chuckle, “I also started on a Spider-Man suit for plushie you, but I haven't finished it yet.”

“You goddamn angel.” He coos, “don't finish it yet, let me help you, yeah?” You nod as he leans closer to etch his lips upon yours. But he stops halfway, paused as he stares at your blissful face while your eyes are closed and lips pursed in waiting. “First…” you crack one eye open, lips still puckered together. He squeezes your lips together playfully with his index and thumb before letting go as you fake a pout. “You need to see your present.”

Hobie lifts himself off you in one swift motion. “What is it?”

“That beats the purpose of a surprise, innit?” In one fell swoop, he pulls you off the bed, standing you back up. “C’mon then.”

“Wait, hold on!” He's already walking out towards the fire escape. Picking up the plushies, you connect their hands together. The magnet you've stitched inside pulls the soft hands together like they're holding hands. “Ta da! I almost forgot I did that.”

Hobie looks at you in awe. “You never fail to surprise me, lovie.” He says it so sweetly that you almost melted into a puddle right there and then. “Bring them with.”

You take a step forward, arms full of the mini Hobie and you. “Wait, we're swinging to get there?”

He shrugs with the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “There's traffic.”

Meeting with him, he immediately pulls you towards him with a strong sturdy arm. “You better not fake drop me, Hobie.” You say as he gestures for you to wrap your legs around his hips.

Standing up, he climbs over the balcony, feet precariously perched on the thin metal. “That was one time, love.” With one hand, he holds you in place, the other is raised and aiming towards the nearest building.

“One time too many—!” He jumps off and you feel your stomach leave your body. His cackling can be heard above the rushing wind kissing your cheeks.

[diamonddaze01]

hello tara it’s me

if you’re still taking prompts for your game could i maybe suggest 40 “Are you okay?” “Why do you ask?” “You’re wearing two different shoes.” for our seokminnie?

kthnxbaiiiii

mismatched

pairing: seokmin x reader | wc: 1.0k prompt: “Are you okay?” “Why do you ask?” “You’re wearing two different shoes.” a/n: BENNIE HELLO! i loved writing this and honestly it was just what i needed after work today lol

The day had been relentless. Emails piled up like bricks in a wall, each one heavier than the last. Deadlines loomed, impossible to meet, and the cherry on top was your client—someone who, apparently, had made it their life’s mission to leave you frazzled and questioning your career choices. By the time you got home, your shoulders ached, your head throbbed, and the walls of your apartment felt closer than ever, suffocating in their silence.

You didn’t mean to text Seokmin. At least, not like that. You had typed it out and hit send without overthinking it: "Today sucked. Can I call you later?" Short, vague, but enough to convey the weight pressing down on you.

Seokmin had always been good at sensing when you needed him. Maybe it was the years of friendship, the countless moments you’d spent together, teetering on the edge of something more but never quite diving in. Still, you hadn’t expected him to show up at your door less than twenty minutes later.

When the doorbell rang, you frowned, dragging yourself off the couch. You opened the door, and there he was, panting slightly as if he’d sprinted the whole way. His scarf hung lopsided around his neck, and his coat was barely on, one sleeve dangling at his side. His hair was tousled from the wind, and his cheeks were flushed a deep pink from the cold.

“Seokmin?” you asked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you okay?” he asked, skipping right past pleasantries. His wide, dark eyes were locked on yours, scanning your face like he could piece you back together just by looking.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re wearing two different shoes,” you added, pointing to his feet before he could answer.

He glanced down, and the realization hit him like a truck. His left foot wore a white Adidas sneaker with faint blue accents, while his right foot was clad in a scuffed brown leather boot.

“Oh,” he muttered, ears turning crimson. “I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice?” Your voice wavered between disbelief and the beginnings of a laugh.

“I came as soon as I got your text!” he protested, lifting his hands in defense. The plastic bag he carried swung dangerously close to hitting him in the face. “You said you had a bad day, and I thought maybe—maybe you needed me, or something.”

His words settled in your chest, warm and grounding. Your lips twitched despite yourself, the first hint of a smile breaking through the exhaustion that had weighed you down all day.

“Seokmin,” you said, stepping aside, “you didn’t have to rush over.”

“I wanted to,” he said softly, ducking his head as he stepped inside. His mismatched shoes squeaked against the floor, a detail so absurd it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked, nodding toward the plastic he still clutched in his hand.

“Soup,” he said, holding it up like an offering. “And snacks.” He hesitated, then added sheepishly, “I panicked. I just grabbed the first things I thought might help.”

You couldn’t hold back the soft laugh that bubbled up. “Soup is a solid choice.”

He grinned at that, the kind of radiant smile that made your chest flutter no matter how many times you’d seen it. “See? I know what I’m doing.”

The two of you settled on the couch, and Seokmin insisted on heating up the soup despite your protests. You let him, partly because you didn’t have the energy to argue and partly because watching him move around your tiny kitchen—still wearing those mismatched shoes—was strangely comforting.

When he returned, he handed you the bowl with a dramatic flourish. “For the most amazing person I know,” he declared, settling beside you with his own bowl.

“Flattery won’t fix my day,” you said, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you, lifting into a smile.

“Maybe not,” he replied, “but it might help a little.”

And it did. As you ate, you told him about your day—the impossible client, the mountain of emails, the way your boss barely acknowledged your effort. Seokmin listened intently, nodding in all the right places and throwing in the occasional comment that made you laugh despite yourself.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said after a pause, his voice quieter now.

“Don’t start,” you said, though your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his tone.

“I mean it.” He set his empty bowl aside and turned to face you fully, his gaze soft but unwavering. “You’re amazing, and I hate that you don’t see it.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Before you could muster a response, he leaned in, brushing a soft, tentative kiss against your forehead.

Your breath hitched, and when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, as if he was waiting for a sign that he hadn’t overstepped.

“Seokmin…”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

A small laugh escaped you, unbidden and warm. “A little.”

“Just a little?” He pouted, leaning closer, and before you could respond, his lips brushed yours—soft, warm, and lingering. The kiss sent a jolt through you, scattering your thoughts and melting away the tension that had clung to you all day.

When he pulled back, his smile was smaller this time, less teasing but no less radiant. “How about now?”

You laughed again, this time from somewhere deep in your chest. “Okay, fine. It worked.”

“Good.” He leaned back against the couch, propping his mismatched shoes up on the coffee table with zero shame.

By the time the evening wound down, your bad day felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of Seokmin’s presence. You glanced at him one last time before heading to bed, and for the first time in hours, you felt okay. Maybe even better than okay.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[moonstruckme]

Omg 8k! I’m so happy for you love! May I request hot cocoa for poly wolfstar with the prompt “new years party” or “baking together”? (whichever one you choose!)

Thank you lovely!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“Well, what are we supposed to give them? Crackers?” 

“I don’t see what would be so wrong with crackers,” says Remus, sounding already weary and increasingly vexed. 

“Only crackers, though?” Sirius is in a restless mood, his excitement for tonight’s party mounting and the volume of his voice along with it. “I just don’t see how it can be possible that there aren’t any grapes left anywhere in town. Was there a grape plague I didn’t know about?” 

“They were sold out. I don’t know what to tell you. Crackers will be just as good.” 

“That’s a completely different food group, darling!” 

“Sirius,” you call, hoping to spare Remus from further irritation (and thus spare Sirius from the consequences), “can you come tell me if this looks alright?” 

You’ve strung lights all across the ceiling of the sitting room, strands of blue and white overlapping and casting the whole space in their glow. Sirius’ eyes seem to glimmer as he comes in, admiring your handiwork. He’s in his outfit for the party already, though you’re both waiting until later to do your makeup together. You’ve got plenty of time; it’s only just getting dark outside, and no one is expected to arrive until at least eight. 

“This looks amazing, sweetheart,” he says, audibly relaxing. “It’s perfect; you’ve done beautifully.” 

“You don’t think it’s too dim in here?” you joke. 

Sirius grins as he walks over. You’re a couple of feet taller than him on your step stool, but he doesn’t seem to mind, touching his lips to your navel while his hands hold the backs of your thighs. You predict him and set your hands on his shoulders, sucking in a breath when he pulls you away from the step, lowering you down. 

“How’d you manage it?” he asks, looking back up at the lights while his hand runs absently up and down the dip of your spine. A few of the white strands wink in and out, twinkling above you like stars. “I can’t even see any of the hooks.” 

“They’re in there,” you tell him. It had taken you a while to figure out how to hide them well, but the abundance of lights ended up covering for you in the end. You take a piece of Sirius’ hair between your fingers, admiring the blue sheen on it. “Baby?” 

“Hm?” 

You press a kiss to his lips, gentle and loving. “Keep in mind that you’re the one who forgot we’d need food until the last minute,” you tell him sweetly. 

Sirius pouts. “Why do I have to remember everything?” 

“Because you’re the only one of us who wanted to have a party.”

“You said,” Remus recounts as he comes in, still sounding vexed but fond around the eyes, “and I quote, I’ll take care of everything.” 

“Doesn’t bloody sound like me,” Sirius mutters. His hand is still moving affectionately over your back, though. 

“Dove.” Remus graces you with a smile, ignoring your sulky boyfriend. “The lights look lovely.” 

“Thank you,” you say, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder before pulling yourself from his arms. You take Remus’ hands and look up at him with your sweetest, most imploring eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor, please?” 

Remus narrows his eyes at you like he knows what you’re about, but his lips twitch as he holds your fingers. “Hm?” 

“You know that trifle you make for Easter?” You wait for him to nod. “If I went to the store and got the stuff, do you think you might be able to make it again tonight?” 

You look to Sirius. “That’d be good, right? It might go nicely with the champagne.” 

Sirius grins at you. “Brilliant girl. I’m remembering now why we keep you around.” 

You turn back towards Remus. You can feel the power of Sirius’ pleading look adding to yours from behind you. After a long moment, your boyfriend capitulates with a sigh and a kiss to your head. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a list.” 

“Thank you, my love,” Sirius says, saccharine sweet. 

“This party is more trouble than it’s worth.” Remus turns, too slowly to conceal his smile. “If anyone tries to make me sing karaoke, I’ll shut the whole thing down before midnight.” 

Sirius’ expression looks crushed. “But—” 

“Shh.” You pat his shoulder, watching Remus go. “James’ll harass him once he gets here. Pick your battles.” 

[mae-lou-ron]

More Than That

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Summary: Something has been on your mind, but you should have known your lover Rex would see right through you.

WC: 1,150

CW: A little angsty (secret relationship, anger over the tragedy of the clones, pining) with a happier ending, hurt/comfort, a side of fluff, sweetheart Rex, mando’a phrase / pet names.

A/N: here’s 1,100+ words that literally fell out of my brain after I got out of work tonight. Lately I’ve been thinking too much about the clones creation (as one does) and I guess this is where it decided to come out 🤷🏼‍♀️ Barely proofread. Also don’t come at me if I got the mando’a sentence structure wrong kthnx.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = 93.5% sure that means I love you. source

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Meshla?” Rex's gloved fingertips brushed the inside of your arm, pulling you from your distant thoughts and into the familiar whirlwind of sensations his touch always ignited in you. Not just his touch, everything about him from his warmth to his scent to the sound of his voice had a magnetic effect on you.

Instead, you stiffened and gently pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Rex... sometimes I just can't think straight when you're touching me," you murmured, regret coloring your voice. "I'm sorry." You stepped back, and he let his hand fall to his side.

His eyes softened, concern in his gaze. "Hey," he said in a low voice. "It's okay." He removed his gloves and extended his hand, leaving the choice to touch him up to you. "Talk to me?" he encouraged softly. You took several steadying breaths before sliding your hand into his, the touch now grounding you as he guided you to the stack of crates in the corner.

Rex waited for you to sit before settling next to you, the small space seeing you pressed together from shoulder to knee. He then sat stoically at your side as you sorted through your thoughts.

Anger bubbled into your throat at your own selfish feelings—the fear of losing Rex suddenly in battle, and the anguish in knowing that if he lived to the end of this war, the cruel reality was that the Kaminoans had engineered the clones with a half life. It wasn't fair. Yet, you refused to say anything that might make Rex feel compelled to console you about the tragedy of the clone's existence—one he was already well aware of.

“It’s something I need to make peace with myself, Rex.” You smiled softly up at him. “I know you’d swoop in with a daring rescue if you could, but you already have to bear so many burdens…let me keep this one for you.”

Rex regarded you carefully, his golden eyes searching your face. You loved how his eyebrows furrowed so deeply when he was trying to sort you out.

He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing his thumb across your cheek. The tender gesture made your heart ache, knowing that even these small moments of affection were stolen between duties and battles. His touch lingered, as if memorizing the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“There’s something else.” he said in a low voice. It wasn’t a question.

You chuckled a little at how intensely perceptive your sweet Captain was becoming lately. He was spending too much time with Ahsoka. You sighed, steeling yourself for what you were about to say.

"You've always meant more to me than those moments we were able to steal away. I know we agreed it was best to keep that way but…Rex I…I can't pretend anymore," you said softly before locking eyes with him, chest tightening, knowing that opening this conversation would likely prompt him to end things—he was far too honorable to drag you through whatever anguish he thought might lay ahead.

Rex's eyes fluttered closed, a flicker of what looked like pain crossing his features before he schooled his expression. He took a deep breath, his hand tightening around yours. "I understand," he said softly, his deep voice thick with emotion. "But I need you to know something first."

“That it’s over?” you quipped, voice cracking. Kriff. You swore you wouldn’t shed tears in front of him. He’d just want to try to fix something that neither of you had the power to change.

Rex's eyes softened. "No, cyar'ika. He sighed and you felt his hand squeeze yours gently. “That I love you." His voice was low, earnest, filled with an emotion that made your heart pound.

Your head snapped up to regard him as you processed his words. Love? That ember for him that you'd been so carefully guarding, afraid to even name, was suddenly thrust out in the open. Your eyes searched his face, looking for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but you found only sincerity and a rare flicker of fear in his gaze.

"I know our situation is… complicated, but how I feel about you isn’t."

"Rex, I..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. The words you'd been holding back for so long threatened to spill out all at once. "Stars, we've kriffed up," you burst into a fit of watery laughter, your deep anxiety finally bubbling over now that he'd confessed what you'd been so afraid to.

Rex chuckled softly, and you loved how the sound rumbled deep within his chest, how his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Maybe just a little," he admitted, bringing your hand to his lips. Ever the gentleman. "But I wouldn't change anything." His eyes slid over to yours, vulnerability and hope shining in them. "So, what now?"

“I wish I knew…” you wiped at your damp cheeks with your free hand.

A sly look crossed his features, “Well…usually when someone tells you they love you…”

“You usually say it back," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the tears still glistening in your eyes. Your heart raced as you took a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

“Ner cyare…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his face. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…”

Rex's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and joy flickering across his face as he recognized the Mando'a phrase tumbling from your lips. His grip on you tightened, and he pulled you closer to press his forehead against yours. His voice a low rumble as he responded, "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika."

Lost in the warmth of him, the weight of your shared confession settled over you like a comforting blanket. This moment eclipsed all your previous encounters in this room. Even if just for a moment, you glimpsed a future where you could truly cherish every precious moment with Rex, even knowing how short your time together might be.

"May I kiss you now, meshla?" Rex murmured, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Please…” you breathed.

His lips met yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as if you were something precious. The kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with all the still unspoken words you’d both been harboring. When you finally parted, Rex rested his forehead against yours once again, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheek.

“Be mine,” he whispered against your lips. “Ner cyare…”

You smiled against him, your heart overflowing with love and hope despite the uncertainty that lay ahead. "I've always been yours," you whispered back, sealing your words with another tender kiss. The galaxy might be at war, but in this moment, wrapped in Rex's arms, you found your home.