#and realised he liked having something to do with his hands

[sanriovin]

hear me out on this one y'all.

imagine yourself coming back home from a hard day at work, right? all overwhelmed, exhausted, annoyed at the world, and so on. as soon as you walk into your shared room though, you see a sight you weren't expecting in the least.

your husband, kento nanami, jerking himself off.

poor man, on his one day off, which were EXTREMELY rare for him, you, as luck had it, had to go to work :( and he was all needy and desperate for you, resorting to masturbating, which he never did often, even more so after the two of you became a couple.

his big, strong, calloused hand from the type of jobs he was involved in, wrapped nicely around his aching, pulsing cock, fisting himself, as pathetic, desperate groans and moans of your name and how good he was feeling left his lips, as his hips bucked up further into his hand from the pleasure he was feeling.

his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head lolling back into the soft, welcoming pillows, dressed in a gentle linen pillowcase, undoubtedly not even realising that you had came home. the sight before you stirred something inside of you, making the exhaustion and annoyance from the day disappear completely, instead, replacing it with a feeling of your own neediness, and a sense of pride, seeing how your husband could fall apart. it gave you ideas. MANY ideas.

"Kento?" you spoke from your spot at the door, your eyes trailing down your husband's half-nude form; his trousers and boxers gone, his tie loosened, three tops buttons undone from the top.

hearing your voice breaking through the sounds of his ragged breathing, loud grunts of pleasure, and the occasional moan or two, his hand came to a stop, his eyes opened wide, looking at you, with shock, embarrassment, and shame. he couldn't even bring himself to hide his body, in a state of processing what had happened.

placing your bag down on the dresser near the door, you took one step, then another, then another, as you approached your shared bed, your eyes locked onto kento, not looking away for even a mere second, in fear that you would miss even the slightest reaction from your normally composed husband.

he swallowed harshly, audibly, slowly moving his hand away from where it was nicely wrapped around previously, placing it down on the linen clad duvet, averting eye contact with you, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, from either the embarrassment, or the physicality and feelings that masturbation brought, or both?

"I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon." he spoke a quiet apology, seeming genuine with it, but how could you even be mad at him? or how could he even think you would be mad at him?

shaking your head, you moved yourself down onto the bed, situating yourself in between his thighs, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and excitement, how a dribble of precum ran down his dick with every tremor that ran down his body.

"You're sorry for what, Kento?" you asked, the question being more of a chastise for him even thinking that he needed to apologise for this, rather than an actual question. in all honesty, seeing your husband like this, undone into a puddle of desperation and lust, was something you would kill to see on a daily, so you were definitely not complaining.

taking a single finger, you trailed it down his thigh, inching closer and closer to the one spot that was the key to getting rid of all his frustrations and stress, even if just for a day. he let out a quiet sigh, watching you with eager eyes, silently pleading with you to do something, anything, to relieve the pulsing ache.

"Do you want me to help you, Kento?" you, once again, gave him a question. your voice was sweet, soft, as if lulling him into a sort of haze. your voice worked like a siren's, bringing him in and in, with only mere words. having him wrapped around your pinky. true, most of the time, nanami preferred to be the dominating one, the one in control, however, he also knew how to let himself be taken care of by others, specifically, you.

"Please, honey, please, I need you so badly." his voice was strained, barely managing to hold himself back; hold himself out for long enough for you to do something.

taking that as your sign to continue, you put a coy little smile on your face, lowering yourself to lay comfortably between his legs on the soft bed, before placing one, single, chaste kiss to his angry, red tip.

he let out a groan in response, head falling back, peeking at you from under his eyelashes, hands trembling slightly at the feeling. your kiss felt good, so good, but it wasn't near enough for what he wanted, no, needed.

"Darling you, fuck, tease..." he groaned out, situating himself to rest on his elbows, so he could see you better, and see what you were up to.

you would have teased him for longer, but the look on his face, one of love, neediness, pure eagerness and desire, was enough to pull you out of your teasing and cruel state, and you decided to help your beloved partner, help him release all the stress within him.

opening your lips, you slowly lowered yourself onto his aching, hardened cock, lowering yourself further and further, as you attempted to take him fully, with, as you soon found out, ended futilely on the first go, with uncovered space still left at his base. however, that alone was enough to cause nanami to let out a low moan, pressing his eyes shut again, letting the darkness consume him as he focused entirely on the pleasure he felt in the moment.

the scene was messy. your drool dribbling down nanami's sensitive cock, the tip of it pressed and poked against the back of your throat, trying to push further and further, however, it was stopped through the tightening of your throat, and the sounds of gags and chokes on his large size.

he gently moved one of his hands to rest on your head, not pushing, not pressing down, just trying to ground himself to reality from the immense pleasure he felt. "Sweetheart, it feels so good... You're doing so well..."

nanami kento has a way with words. a way that made you feel eager and excited to pleasure him, to satisfy him, in hopes of getting more and more praise.

trying to breathe through your nose, you slowly relaxed your throat, bobbing your head up and down, attempting to inch further and further down his large dick, holding onto his thighs with trembling hands, as your tongue swirled around his leaking tip, which resulted in a loud, higher pitched moan than before from nanami.

the moan was all you needed to proceed with your actions, desperately trying to bring your beloved to the edge of release, as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on his cock so well he could practically see stars in his eyes.

taking one of your hands, you gingerly brought it to his balls, beginning to slowly mess and play with them, testing new waters to see if it would have the desired effect on nanami.

and it did not fail.

in mere seconds, nanami was falling apart on the bed, his legs trembling pathetically, his hips jerking up to your mouth, his back on the bed, his arms having lost all strength to support himself. curses, moans, and groans of your name kept spilling from his mouth, as not once did he open his eyes. hot spurts of his cum landed in your mouth, on your tongue, as you began to taste the salty yet slightly bitter taste of it on your tongue.

letting him ride out high long-awaited orgasm, you took all that he gave you, only pulling off once you saw his body laying practically limp on the bed, regaining himself from the experience.

but, of course, he was a gentleman at heart. he wouldn't let such a favour go unrewarded, oh no, he couldn't have that.

"How about you let me pleasure you now, love? What do you say?"

(author's note: finished writing this after finishing AOT S3 - the ending hurt so bad that i couldn't even cry)

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

~

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

~

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

~

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

~

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

[multipleoccupancy]

Glad that Violet seemed to understand what he had been trying to say, he nodded his confirmation, reassured he was not overstepping any of Delta Green's rules in explaining temporary insanity to her. She had to know, she was facing it and looking at a mild episode as it was. Not opposed to Samantha explaining that she could have an episode too, not realising she had already had one of her own when she froze in the fire. Theo cast what was meant to be a sympathetic look Samantha's way but it might have seemed emotionless as he did it, he still checked nonetheless. They'd seen each other through episodes before and been fortunate.

She described what she had seen his counterpart do and he nodded slowly. "It certainly sounds like he had an episode." And how lucky she was there had been other targets left in the room if violence had been the course of action his lapse in control had taken. Theo wanted to reach out and pull Violet into a hug but he still couldn't bring himself to do it again, fortunately the soup was a handy excuse too as he took another spoonful to keep himself in the moment and not to wherever his head might try to take him next.

"Sometimes people just run away too." He explained, "which in my own opinion if you have the mind to decide what to do, running away is going to be the best decision." If something could trigger an episode like that, fleeing from it was the best course of action, right? Theo would of course very much prefer Violet ran away from the danger rather than towards it but even in the state he was in he wasn't fool enough to believe she would run away even during an episode.

Of course there were times when running away was impossible, like when an orderly could pin them down to the floor with no escape, fighting or freezing was all that was left and both would end the same way. He rubbed a hand at his head again, trying to wipe the thought away. "Sometimes if you bottle them up," which he had done with Violet the previous night after falling from the couch, "they just come back to bite you later."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Her dad never talked about his work as an agent, or what said work entailed -or only in very vague details. The only time he had told her things was when he was taking painkillers for his gun wound, and she wondered if this was a similar situation. She didn't want to take advantage of it, but she was still curious. Especially if this could explain what was happening to him.

"So... this is an episode?" she asked timidly. An 'episode' meant it had a beginning and an end, it meant he wouldn't stay like that forever. Samantha nodded. "Is it going to happen to me one day?" After all, she saw monsters too. She fought them too. Was she going to be violent one day? Or freeze at the worst possible moment?

Samantha looked at Violet, and then Killian. "It's possible," she replied, hoping she was not overstepping. But Violet should know, especially if it could teach her to be more careful. "Your dad is right, seeing the things we see takes a toll on us. Sometimes, it's just too much, and it triggers an episode. It's happened to me before, too."

Violet opened her mouth and closed it again, frowning. She stayed silent for a few seconds, before finally saying "I've seen it before, I think. In Ames, Cowboy Theo he... He got so mad. After the cultist tried to strangle me, he was so angry. He started killing everyone." And then there was Evil Theo, who had thrown her out of a window. She felt the vertigo again, tugging at her stomach. Had it been an episode, too? And... was her dad going to be violent? No. No, that was not possible.

[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.

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Viktor... - Viktor x reader

Arcane Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Words: ~1100 TW: none

"Viktor!" you shouted, but the man never seemed to even consider stopping. "Viktor, wait!" Your desperation was growing stronger with every step, tears slowly blurring your vision.

Was this what he wanted? To disappear? Leaving you behind like you were nothing?

"Did I do something wrong?" your voice echoed as the man you once loved turned away, the dark cloak gracefully falling onto his new body. He wouldn't have even stopped to look at you if it wasn't for Jayce to tell you he was leaving. His body froze, his mind racing with the new sensations he felt. He slowly turned, strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

"No! I have to…" the hurt in his voice obvious. "I'm not…" he hesitated, not sure what to say next. Was he even alive? Was he even human? "I don't even know what I am anymore…"

You cautiously stepped towards him, taking in his features. He was suffering before, you knew that. He lost a lot of weight in the past years… His sickness was getting stronger, day by day, but now… Now he was standing in front of you, on his own legs. Now he was standing taller, the weakness you once saw in him gone.

Your hand pressed against his cheek, but he wasn't met with the warmth he once felt - it was something unusual. Peaceful, but not in a way he was able to understand. It was electrical, mechanical, not human-like. It was like a fire started underneath your palm, but it didn't hurt. His hand hesitantly touched yours, something that resembled a heartbeat seemingly getting stronger. Was it still his heart?

"I know what you are…" you said, the familiar brown eyes looking at you, their softness ever so unchanged.

"I killed Sky…" his voice trembled slightly, your heart skipping a beat. You were the first he ran to when this happened. The first to know everything he never let anyone know. You were the first to see him for who he really was. And now, thinking that you might be afraid of him, it made his body ache in unpleasant, strange ways. "I am murderer…" he eventually continued, his words quieter than they were in those many nights you spent together, hoping not to wake up anyone.

You just now realised the roughness of this new "skin", the coldness in it, a contrast to his gentle touches. Different from the way he used to worship you any chance he got. You were his only reason to continue fighting. His only reason to continue his research - because maybe, one day, your lives will be better. But the roughness was just on the surface... somehow, you could still feel the warmth. The kindness in his soul was as it always has been - unparalleled.

"No…" You softly said, cupping his cheeks. The touch sent a wave of energy coursing through him, not with the intensity of a shock, but with a steady, unyielding pull that reminded him of life itself. It felt like a promise, something soft yet grounding, pulling him back from the edge of despair. “You’re my Viktor…” The words hung in the air between you, their weight settling in the space around you both. Viktor didn’t move at first.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that you might be lying. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His breath came slower, almost as if he was afraid to exhale, fearful that the fragile connection you had could shatter with a single movement.

Viktor’s forehead found its peace against yours, just as it always did. But this time, there was a tremble in his touch, a hesitant pause before his lips parted to speak again. The gentle pulse of your shared breath seemed to reverberate through your bodies, and for a moment, the world outside of this fragile moment disappeared. You could feel the echo of his heartbeat, faint and distant, but still there, somehow keeping him tethered to you. "And nothing could make me not want to follow you until the end of the time…"

A small smile crept on his face, your words seemingly reassuring him, even if just a little, that maybe he was not as inhuman as he thought he was. "I can't ask you to follow me…" he told you, knowing that it would perhaps mean the end of your life. Knowing that it might bring you more pain than his disappearance would have.

"Of course you don't…" you chuckled. "But I will anyway. I always did as I pleased, right?" the sound of his soft laugh made your heart jump, your ears enlightened as you heard it.

His fingers intertwined with yours, the whole world becoming silent, almost nonexistent. In the stillness of the moment, this touch was a silent understanding, a bond that spoke louder than words ever could. Your souls were connected once again, just as they were always meant to be. Fighting to find each other, fighting to find peace once again and now… fulfilled that they were finally reunited.

"It's not gonna be easy…" he warned, pressing a light kiss on your temple before he moved away, the coldness of his absence making you shiver.

"It's never been… But we managed…"

He smiled and all of the stimulus he felt stopped. Something similar to peace conquered his form now. Something stronger than whatever the Hexcore was doing to him.

You pressed his hand against your chest, the vibrations of your heartbeat resonating through him. You could see his mouth slightly opening in fascination at the intensity of his senses.

"Can you feel it?" you asked. "Can you feel it beating under your touch?"

Viktor’s fingers tightened around your wrist, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, he said nothing. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, a mix of disbelief and awe flickering in his expression.

"I can't promise you I'm the same..." he whispered, his voice trembling as if uncertain whether this was real.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a powerful pain overcoming it at his words. "Whatever IT'll happen, I will face it with you. I know I want this, just please... Please don't push me away." He caressed your cheek, a weak smile on his face as he saw the determination in your eyes. The world became still. It was peaceful now. The past was a distant memory. The future - uncertain.

But the present felt just right.

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[grimmweepers]

— ★ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when being assigned a joint research project with a very attractive haravatat student proves to be more distracting than you ever anticipated

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: akademiya!student alhaitham x akademiya!student reader, afab!reader, established relationship (early stages), secret relationship, sex in the desert, flirting, playful banter, casual nudity, no preparation, rough fucking, multiple positions, creampie, not proofread. obv they are adults. 2.1k wc MDNI. 18+ ONLY. | masterlist

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The heat had already taken hold of you this morning.

Even before you opened your eyes, the desert sun had crept into the makeshift tent, meandered across your skin, and clung to the bedding beneath you. Outside, you could hear the wind humming in a lulling rhythm but the air inside was still heavy—scented faintly of canvas, sand, and Alhaitham.

Officially, this trip was sanctioned by the Akademiya to catalog ruins and decipher inscriptions long buried in the dunes. Your joint project culminated in months of preparation but between your academic pursuits, you and Alhaitham fell into the trap of proximity, lured by the temptation of wandering eyes and coy smiles exchanged over the rim of coffee cups. 

Long nights spent under oil lamps became less about studying and more about the rush it gave you when your knees brushed beneath low tables. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on reading when Alhaitham sat so close that his scent clouded you entirely. 

Wandering eyes turned to coy smiles turned to lingering touches turned to… well. 

Such distractions would be frowned upon by the Akademiya, yes, but how could you resist when Alhaitham treated you like you were the most fascinating discovery he had ever encountered? You both agreed on discretion to save yourself from the mortification of other scholars and seniors. They didn’t need to know about his sweet confession and the many other things you both got up to when nothing but the stars could witness you. 

So unofficially—this trip was the perfect excuse to stay tangled together despite the sweltering heat. 

You blinked against the wedge of sunlight, rolling over to a very bare Alhaitham sprawled beside you, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, the other resting just centimetres from your waist. 

“Morning,” his voice was thick with sleep but when your eyes met, you saw that his expression was immensely not.

“What’s got you so focused?” you said groggily, propping yourself on your elbow as you faced him. “Already thinking about all the hard work waiting for us today?”

Your clothes were still discarded from the night before, sitting in a crumpled heap near the corner of your bedroll. Perhaps the events of last night were why he was looking at you with that slanted smile. 

“Do you always think about work the moment you open your eyes?” he replied, tracing small circles on you. 

“Someone has to keep us on task,” you shot back, raising a brow.

“I didn’t realise I was sharing a tent with a Matra.”

Of the 20 languages he knew, the same mouth rendered him incapable of completing this project in a timely manner—what should have been done two days ago was instead spent with his tongue on your skin. 

Not that you had many complaints.

“Mm,” he added. “And here I thought mornings were for recharging, not nagging.” 

“For someone who implores efficiency in all things,” you said, poking his nose, “You spend a suspicious amount of time lying around. Observing me isn’t going to help your thesis.”

“Observing you is a worthwhile distraction actually,” his hand began to slip onto the bare curve of your hip, “In fact, I think you’re my most compelling subject.”

“I would pay you sacks of mora to include that in your report,” you retorted, clicking your tongue with false annoyance, but you were too focused on something else to actually care.

“I’ll pass,” he tipped his chin at you, “Instead of mora, another thorough exploration should suffice.”

“You’re avoiding work.”

“I prefer to think of it as redefining priorities.”

“Oh? And what’s at the top of that list now, Mr. Alhaitham?” You felt wrapped in warmth but you weren’t sure if it was from the desert or his fingers settling between your thighs.

“Must you know?” He pressed his body against you, “It seems to me you don’t think we can afford to delay.”

Suddenly, the tent felt smaller, and something familiar coiled low in your belly. You let out a soft sigh, shifting closer to him, “Enough.” 

The word felt hollow, even to your own ears.

He not only decided he wanted a repeat of last night (and the night before) but also the right to brag about passing with flying colours even when he was buried inside you during the most crucial part of the research. 

It became a cycle—he apologised for keeping you distracted and you forgave him by moaning his name. 

Never one to be so sexually inclined but now he understood why men sculpted monuments to their obsessions, why poets spilled ink in worship of carnal desires. Lust was not a sin because it was tempted, but because it was consumed. However, the way Alhaitham consumed you was completely intentional. 

You were no different from his books. He spread you open, studied you, and read every inch of you all the same.  

“I personally think we have plenty of time,” he leaned forward, slowly grazing his lips across your neck before kissing your pulse point. “Trust me.”

And trust him you did.

The world outside was quickly forgotten after he turned you on your back. Your words died in your throat as he hovered above you, capturing you in a careful kiss that tasted of salt and skin. 

There was plenty of time in the way his fingers coveted pleasure out of you. 

There was plenty of time in the way he mapped your jaw, your neck, and your collarbone with love bites. Like you were something so desirable to him.

Beads of sweat rolled down your temple as the tip of his cock shallowly pressed your entrance. Your mouth fell open—the friction was maddening, and every inch of you clung to him. Even when his lips ghosted the swell of your chest, he was lucky your skin was there to swallow his quiet grunts each time his hips moved against your tight hole. 

“Patience,” he said when you instinctively arched your back, though his own breathing was uneven. Already, his hair was tousled and damp from the heat of your bodies mingling and you felt his length throbbing on your thigh. He was so hard, you couldn’t help but wonder if the one who actually needed patience was him. 

You couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Speak for yourself,” you said, swiveling your hip upwards. A groan left his lips so quickly you saw a blush spread across his cheeks. “You’re barely holding it together.”

He grumbled in response. “You find joy in others’ misery.”

“Not at all.”

Although, your teasing wasn’t for naught. Alhaitham wasn’t exactly famous for bedding women so seeing you stripped of everything that made you prim and proper left him craving you that much more. “You should take it as a compliment that I—”

“So I’m the problem?” you laughed under him to mask the flutter in your stomach. 

“Precisely.” You were glad he remained obstinate even when he so lewdly towered over you. “You’re in such a hurry this morning. If you want to be reckless, I won’t be blamed for the consequences.”

Then a strategic purse of lips followed suit, “I thought you enjoyed my patience.”

Patience. That damned word again.

Screw patience. Whatever consequence he was referring to was burning away any semblance of patience you might have had left. Thus far, he had taken his time with you but he had only taken his time with you. If he could be more crude, you wanted to see it—feel it. 

“Alhaitham,” his entire name rolled off your tongue. Quick and demanding. Your tone only fueled the fire in his seafoam eyes. “Stop talking.”

The end of your words dissolved into a gasp as he thrust into you, hard and sudden, stretching you with a fervor you hadn’t felt before. 

His muscles flexed while you dragged your nails down his spine, closing your legs around him for even an ounce of stability. The rhythm he set was already so relentless that his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher around his waist to drive himself deeper, and the change in angle made all sound catch in your throat.

“Haitham—!” a cry rippled from how hips were snapping against yours with a pace that was anything but patient. He had accepted your unspoken challenge so quickly, that nothing would have prepared you. 

Your head swam.

The wet, sloppy slaps of skin meeting skin filled the tent, blending in with your jagged moans and his lower grunts. No part of his brain wasn’t thinking about how soaked you already were, how you welcomed him so easily before he slipped—no—pushed it in. 

His hair clung to his forehead, every movement felt tight and addictive. When he leaned down, his lips brushed the shell of your ear, “Is this fast enough for you?”

You could only whimper in response, feeling your toes curl as his hoarse voice and your own pleasure consumed you. 

He shifted, pulling you onto your side and hooking your leg over his shoulder. The new position sent another shockwave through you, and your priceless whines filled the small space as he drove into you over and over again.

The heat of the tent seemed endless, but so did the hunger between you. Alhaitham’s pace never truly slowed—each time your whines softened, each time you thought the storm of his touch subsided, he just tossed you into a new position, kindling the fire all over again. 

“I want to hear you,” he growled while his chest was flushed against your back. Reaching to lift your leg so his heavy cock could invade you deeper, you tried to muffle your moans into the bedding. But he grabbed your chin, tilting you to look at him, “Head up.” He half-chuckled, “You were so mouthy before. What happened to that?” 

Before you could answer—or think—he shifted again, this time unsteadily pulling you onto his lap. Your knees dug into the bedding but at that point, holding yourself upright proved difficult. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you to ride him as his mouth leisurely latched onto the peak of your breast. The combination left you shuddering, clinging to his shoulders as his fingers pressed bruises into your hips. 

“Did you know,” he slurred against your skin, “that you’re terrible and incredible?” His praise made your cheeks burn but terrible? Terrible was the way he fucking you so hard you could barely roll your hips. 

“Y-You might want to refresh yourself,” you chewed your bottom lip from yet another hard thrust, “On the meaning of ‘terrible.’” You could feel the remnants of your previous orgasms dripping down on him, “Because that’s you.”

Time blurred. You lost count of the positions, of the way he had you on all fours only to have you back in his arms moments later, of how many times you greedily begged for more. Every touch was electric; if only you could clutch him closer. The noises were shameless and the scent of filthy sex and sweat was nothing shy of erotic. 

When he pinned you beneath him again, you felt him stiffen. Every inch that sunk into you felt more desperate and even the way he called your name sounded huskier. You could have sworn the tent walls were ruffling in sync from his losing control. 

Your lips parted in a silent scream and with a final throb around his cock and a deep drawn-out groan in your ear, he released inside you for the first time. Your body drew out his pleasure as his forehead pressed against your shoulder. His laboured breathing told you everything about the ecstasy he was experiencing, like his body and brain were struggling to stay connected. Finally, he pulled out, trembling and sensitive, and collapsed beside you who was still panting. 

Ultimately you got what you wanted: unfiltered crude sex with your insufferably hot research partner. Your pulse ran wild.

A hazy silence settled, broken only by his stroking your hand to check if you were okay. Part of him wondered if he went a bit too far which you wordlessly answered by rubbing him back. He held you, and like last night (and the night before), you lay glistening and tangled together in the aftermath. 

It was a perfect system, a hopeless, delirious cycle.

“Well,” he said as he returned to tracing circles on you, “I think that concludes this morning’s exploration.”

You rolled your eyes, still dizzy and breathless, “Do you think the Akademiya will accept that as your final thesis?”

His lips quirked into a rare, little grin. “Hard to say. Who knows which of the sages might secretly be perverts?” 

“Alhaitham,” you groaned, swatting weakly at his chest. 

But then his arms tightened around you. And you didn’t mind. You didn’t protest. You believed you might have even loved being clad in nothing, lying in a cramped, too-warm tent that reeked in the musk of what transpired.

There was, as he said, plenty of time to finish the project. And if this was part of the process, you weren’t in any hurry.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

a/n: idk if i love or hate this but it’s so hot where i am rn and the only thing i can do to distract myself from perishing from the heat is to pretend i’m here!!!

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[kvroomi]

it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup

“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”

his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.

“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.

"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”

you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”

“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.

"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”

you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.

alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.

“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.

“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.

“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”

that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.

a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.

“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”

you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”

“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”

you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”

“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”

you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.

it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.

and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.

his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”

your jaw drops.

“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).

the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.

the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.

and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).

there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."

another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.

it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.

it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”

you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.

many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.

and it worked.

you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.

eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.

you: you’re a menace.

his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x

you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.

so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Mr. Crawling

Content: SFW hcs + Established relationship + Overprotection + Manipulation + Baby trapping + clingy! Mr. Crawling + Gaslighting + Somnophilia + Stalking + Death + Breeding kink + Slight size difference.

Summary: Human! Mr. Crawling who tries to keep his deep love secret from you

Note: I hope all of you are having a good day!! I'm trying to do my essays but they're so boring... Let me know if you have any suggestions/things you want to say to me, I love answering to people!!

SFW:

Human! Mr. Crawling who falls in love as soon as he sees your face.

Human! Mr. Crawling who decides to try and keep you safe and protect you from all possible dangers. This ranges from leaving small gifts for you, buying you something to eat when he hears a rumble close to him, or buying you a drink if he has seen you working so hard on keeping up with all the classes, to sometimes intimidating the other guys that kept trying to get closer to you.

Human! Mr. Crawling who tries his hardest to speak to you, even if it's just a few words to make sure you know he's listening to you. Nodding his head and keeping his eyes completely focused on your face.

Human! Mr. Crawling who tries to make himself look smaller, crunching a bit and walking with his back a bit arched, not something that can be easily noticeable for others, but just enough to reduce the height difference between the two of you.

Human! Mr. Crawling who is finally able to make you feel safe with him, allowing him to get into your bedroom, even to the point of making a sleepover. He just had to try his hardest not to act in any weird manner.

Human! Mr. Crawling who keeps following you like a lost puppy. You can almost see two ears and a tail appear when he acts like a small puppy, being easily excited when you compliment him, even if it's for the smallest things.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who begins to feel how his pure love becomes something more twisted the moment he realises more people keep getitng interested in you. He looks so kind when you look at him, but as soon as you turn your head, his gaze becomes much darker, his expression is always serious, his brows slightly furrowed as he tries to keep himself restrained.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who takes advantage of you great "friendship" and starts to try and get rid of your friends. He keeps on interrupting when you meet with your other friends, creating different reasons why he just couldn't wait to meet you, as he truly needed you.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who takes advantage of his sickly aspect to make you worry about him, calling you to ask you for small gestures, making sure that they are small enough to avoid you from refusing him.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who is finally able to ask you out. He made sure to get rid of each and all your friends who could get in the way of your relationships, after all, he is everything you need, right?

NSFW:

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who had already seen you way before both of you met each other in class, his phone filled to the brim with pictures of you. The fact that most of them involve you in embarrasing positions while the rest are of your sleeping face. They definitely have no effect on him, hell no (just ignore the raging bulge he gets from seeing your lips slightly parted, totally normal reaction).

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who put a small chip on your phone while you were sleeping. How was he supposed to keep you safe if he didn't know where you were the whole day? Don't be so dramatic, he was just doing it for your sake :((

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who killed someone in front of you. He was stalking you around town when he saw that strange man grabbing you by your wrist and taking you to the closest dark alley. Before he could think, his hands were already gripping his throat, his face turning blue as his grasp got even stronger. When he finally was sure that man was no longer alive, he turned around, a happy smile on his lips as he waited for your compliments. He was now on his real height, allowing you to notice how he was over one head and a half taller than you, despite that, he made you pet his hair, forcing you to smile as the body of the strange man got colder.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling whose obsession only increases the moment the two of you decide to date. His arms are now always around your waist, his hands always touching you, no matter if you are alone or in front of other people. He just loves hugging you from behind, his dick rubbing against your ass, grinding against you as soon as he saw you do something he didn't like.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who forces his cock inside you, filling you load after load just to prove that you're truly his one and only. He doesn't stop until he sees his seed dripping from your hole, your eyes rolling to your skull with fat tears rolling down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who keeps blabbering about impregnating you during sex, he doesn't even care about your gender, he WILL impregnate you. He will defy Mother Nature for you, filling you one after the other and not pulling out until the next morning.

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who masturbates with your clothes the moment he misses you, he doesn't care if you have been away for barely a few hours, he just misses his sweet darling so much :(( Not his fault that your clothes are filled with your sweet scent...

Yandere! Mr. Crawling who masturbates to your sleeping face while the both of you sleep together. He loves feeling you close to him, all relaxed as your expressions sometimes change to one of pure bliss... He hugs you from behind, beginning to grind against your ass as an attempt to keep himself in check. This of course doesn't work, which forces him to use his own hand to masturbate, slowly getting on top of you so he can get an extremely detailed view of your sleeping face.

[yourislandgirl]

⍣*°:⋆ THIS AIN’T NO PHASE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ || OT7 엔하이픈 x fem!reader || headcanons

summary: how enhypen would act as reader’s down bad classmate

genre: fluff, romance, non-idol!enhypen x non-idol!reader, somewhat high school au except it’s not that in-depth, lowkey enha as simps

warnings: can’t think of anything major, attempts at humour, intentional lowercase btw

[archive]

・❥・ 희승 // heeseung

totally the show off type, he sneaks glances at you after he accomplishes something on the first try to make sure you noticed (will end up sulking for like an hour if you were looking elsewhere)

learns new skills just to show you, like you’ll offhandedly mention something about the bass guitar in a new viral song and within a week he’ll have learnt it by sneaking into the school’s music room and using their bass. he has no clue when, if ever, he’ll get the chance to show you, but if that time comes, he’ll be prepared

definitely the kind of guy that likes testing the waters with pick up lines and lowkey flirting, he also knows he’s attractive — which is always bad news when the guy knows — so he would totally give you a beautiful smile and a corny joke of some kind, his eyes darting back and forth to study your reaction

never wanted to make a fool of himself around you until the one time he embarrassed himself a little and you let out the most enchanting laugh, he swears the skies parted. from then on, it didn’t always matter to him how he looked and presented himself, he became less critical of himself, because if he could make you smile, or better yet, laugh? that would make his day

more under cut!

・❥・ 종성 // jay

much more of a conversationalist than you’d expect — totally starts unprompted conversations on various topics just to hear your perspective and he always asks for your opinion because it means the most to him, except . sometimes you have no opinion on some of the things he asks, so there’s just this odd silence afterwards

will usually have homecooked meals that he makes himself or has leftovers from super expensive restaurants that your other classmates have been waiting months to get a reservation to, and he always shares that food with you, like your entire friend group would get their share but he’d save the best part for you and he always asks if you liked it afterwards because he's storing that information away for potential future dates

there are far too many times he “accidentally” bought an extra snack or dessert from the cafeteria and, well, we wouldn’t want that to go to waste now, would we? so he’ll just casually slide it over to you, like it’s the most normal thing to do

very acts of service, all you’d need to do is just grumble under your breath about your pen being shitty and almost out of ink and he’s bringing out his two best pens and handing them to you. or say you guys are doing an experiment in your chemistry class, he’s immediately getting all the equipment, you don’t need to move at all, (oh, but, he loves following your lead for the actual experiment — the kind of guy that goes “whatever you wanna do”, to which you’d reply “um, technically it’s not up to me, jay. if we do these steps out of order, we could blow up the classroom” . “oh, right”)

・❥・ 재윤 // jake

really giggly around you, like, really giggly. everything you say is hilarious to this man. stand up comedy who? he’d actually be so amusing about it too, like bro is randomly chuckling in a class where you’re not even there, just because he remembered something you said

he once tried the move of asking you for help in class. except you rightfully pointed out that he knew much more about the current topic than you did, you had no idea what he expected to learn from you — he then realised the better option is to ask you if he can double check his work or “compare notes”

the first time he caught a mistake/typo in your work, he felt a little bad for pointing it out, but he quickly came to appreciate the clear view of your concentration face when you tried to redo your answer. he'll be constantly flicking his gaze up and back down, trying to keep his eyes on his notebook but ends up tapping his pen against the empty page while he admires the way you furrow your brows while you think

always asks if you’re coming to the school’s soccer game (or football, i guess, i’m australian and we call it soccer) anyway, he spends like five minutes before every game dedicated for scanning the crowd to see if you’re there — if you do ever decide to go, know that your presence is completely unrelated to how he just so happened to score the most goals out of his team . completely

・❥・ 성훈 // sunghoon

stares a lot, but he naturally zones out in class (to the point where teachers ask why he’s staring off into space) so you don’t always question it, except it’s clearly the best excuse he has to keep staring at you

not really outspoken but he definitely would be the type to mutter the most cringe fail jokes to the people around him and takes it as a personal victory every time you scoff out a small chuckle, has a mental list of the kinds of jokes you find funny because man is studying the trends to come up with new material

without realising, he would end up having your schedule memorised, and would totally use that knowledge to his advantage. say your science class is before his — bro is bolting out the door to get to the classroom in time to say a quick “hi” before you leave, he does it so often that you’re convinced he has PE before science, because there’s no other explanation for why every time you see him, this guy is winded like he finished a race (except for the fact that he ran halfway across the school campus for a five second interaction)

would be heavily invested in whatever you take an interest in, he doesn’t even have to understand it, he just wants to know about it because of you. say you’re current interest is modernist literature, he’d snag the perfect opportunity to ask you to explain it to him and let you ramble to your hearts content while he stares at you with the most soft expression, and he isn’t zoning out this time, he’s just pleasantly distracted by the view

・❥・ 선우 // sunoo

would be the type to find the smallest common interest and be convinced that it means your destined to be. like, you could mention something in passing like a show or something, and if he stumbles across it in his recommendations? dude is ecstatic . because what do you mean the universe just happened to show him the exact piece of media you’re obsessed with? (you’re not, it’s literally your most casual interest, but bro is convinced)

he wouldn’t hesitate to compliment you, like he would openly admire your hair if you do something new with it, or if he hears you talk about the new earrings you’re wearing he’d turn around to look at them and give you that nod of approval and say something about how it frames your face nicely, zero shame in what others would think from his forwardness

more subdued when it’s just the two of you, he usually rants about whatever random shenanigans are going on around your school, things that he’s heard or seen, usually retold with editorial humour and a lot of sidebar comments that you wouldn’t be able to help but laugh at, definitely keeps adding to the joke until your sides are hurting from laughing together, he probably has it marked in his calendar on the day he made you laugh so hard your eyes shone with tears a little bit (an achievement in his books)

more subtle when it comes to something as risky as asking you out, he’d try and play it off as simply recommending a certain cafe or a certain movie and if he just so happened to imply that you two should go together, well, that was just out of politeness, of course … unless?

・❥・ 정원 // jungwon

spits out random facts and genuinely believes that they’re the stepping stone to developing a relationship with you (while you sit there confused, because how do the surprise donuts your teacher brought even remotely relate to camels and their ability to drink 200L of water in three minutes??)

i think he would like trying to create a routine with you, something familiar, something that will remind you of him — maybe if you guys sit near each other, he’d always take both your workbooks to the teacher out front for you. or if there’s this special dessert at your cafeteria that he knows you like, he’ll split it with you every time it’s offered. he seems like the type that would find reminders of you in even the smallest of things so he just wishes to create a connection where you’ll feel the same

always sends you the notes when you’re missing from class, his notes aren’t exactly the neatest but they are funny. he adds like little doodles and comments (mostly for himself tbh, he'd add things like “just think of integration as differentiation’s older brother” in the margins of his maths notes or something). honestly, he had considered rewriting them neatly for you, but after you initiated a conversation about the mutilation of a portrait he did of your teacher, well, he figured any chance to talk to you wouldn’t hurt

the kind of guy who will try and send you signals through music and song lyrics, like if you post a certain song on your story, he’d pick the same song but choose a different lyric to play on his story, something more romantically coded. or if you talk about a new artist you’re listening too, he’ll find their most romantic song and say that’s his favourite and asks you listen because he thinks you’ll like it

・❥・ 리��� // ni-ki

very quiet, you’d probably think he was mute if it wasn’t for his low acknowledgment of presence when the teacher takes the attendance. the biggest rush he gets out of his day is when he says a couple words to you in your shared classes. it would always be really quick conversations too, he’d mutter about the teacher being uptight, or complain about the worksheet being printed in black and white instead of in colour, or ask you if you’re cold before getting up to shut the window next to your desks — small, but meaningful

the type to walk up and down the same hallway five times before working up the courage to enter the room you’re in. if you asked him why he did that he’d straight up be like “that wasn’t me. anyway…” adksajd so it’s safe to say he seems a little odd but charming and he’s counting on that charm to help him pull through and land at least a movie date

super competitive in PE class and it’s like a switch will flip and he’s suddenly more suave and confident when he’s in that element so expect a lot of random sidebar conversations while you guys do warm up stretches, he’d totally be the kind of guy to walk past you and drop one of the water bottles near you before walking off to his friends, definitely brushes his hair back like twenty times, gives unsolicited advice on how you can throw better or kick better or whatever it is depending on the sport, you’d be like “[raised eyebrow] i still scored didn’t i?” and he’d backtrack so fast it would be hilarious

has definitely sketched you before, let’s be real. half the time he spends in art class is sketching you in his personal sketchbook — he’d be smart enough to not draw your face (at least in the book he brings to school), it would be something like your side profile but it’s off centre so any other person would think the main focus of his sketch is the window which you sit beside, but to him, the main focus is you. he’d sketch anything he associates with you too, say for example if you mentioned your favourite flower just casually, he’d have a whole page dedicated to various sketches of that flower, no one else would really be able to tell what all his sketches mean, they’re like puzzle pieces that only you’d be able to put together

a.n: this took a while (been so distracted by numerous diff fandoms and a little sad bcs of mama awards but wtv) this is dedicated to my lovely mootie @sheepsgf !! the indescribable beauty that was jungwon’s solo intro in mama will forever live in my head btw, but i figured i’ve done three posts for won already aksjdjs time to do an ot7 one bcs i love them all and they’ve worked so hard !!

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf

2024 © yourislandgirl

[gay-dorito-dust]

When Viktor loves, he loves hard and if you were on the receiving end of such, you were blessed beyond words to say the least.

His love was soft, gentle, selfless that it would always leave you feeling loved and appreciated by this beautiful with the amber eyes. He’s always looking out for you and doing small but meaningful things that told you that you were an regular occupant within his genius mind that was usually filled with complex equations, plans to advance hextech and bettering the lives of the less privileged.

Viktor would leave spaces beside him for you to join him, always pulling up a chair next to his own as almost as if it was something he’s done countless times before to the point it was purely muscle memory for him to save a just space for you.

He would subtly write notes on you within the back of his notebook on your likes, interests, favourite hobbies and or topics that you’d love to bring up in conversation when applicable, all in hopes of seeing that sparkle in your eyes whenever you talked passionately and become expressive through hand gestures. He loves it all and had to carry his notes on you to the backs of his other notebooks because there was so many things he found easy to love.

He’s a tinker at heart and will often find himself adrift in his own mind as his hands fiddled and moulded spare parts scattered across the lab in order to take something that he’d think you’d love. And he made many little pretty trinkets ranging from a blue jay no bigger then the palm of your hand, to the never wilting flowers, all of which now sat on your shelf in your shared room with the highest of honour.

He holds on to things you’ve left for him if you were to ever attempt at tinkering yourself. Most were rather poorly made and either looked like it was going to collapse within seconds of being made, but Viktor would only smile and hold the peculiar trinkets close to his chest, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he softly claimed that he loved their uniqueness. You’d then pout and tell him that you know they were bad but you’d get better at it with practice so he could replace them with better made ones.

However Viktor never did replace or threw away your first creations at all, they were symbolical to him of your relationship, and instead he kept them on him if they were small enough to fit inside a pocket; all the while keeping the new ones that you’ve given him that were more sleek and better made. He kept everything you’ve ever given him close to his chest as though they were priceless treasures made with love and affection that you held for him.

Needless to say he takes pride in the flustered look that overtook your face as you realised that this man would treasure your every gift, even if it wasn’t your best work because Viktor could see the effort and the love you poured into them, so why should he throw away things made by your beautiful hands? Felt like an insult.

Viktor also developed the habit of reaching out to touch you and or anything that meant he could be closer to you, even if the room was spacious he’d much rather stand by your side more so then ever, he’d do as though his body aches for your presences and warmth. A pat on the shoulder, hand at your elbow or at the small of your back, Viktor will always find his hand searching for your own and linking pinkies with yours as a reassured smile graced his lips in knowing you were right there beside him.

The only time his full weight was pressed against you was when he was lacking in an actual sleep schedule and felt as though he was on the brink of collapse. So at that point you had to essentially carry the poor man back to his room, kiss his head to shush his apologies in having you escort him back home, telling him it was perfectly fine before wishing him a good night upon departure. He loves more when it seemed as though you both shared the idea of affection as your hands would nudge against one another before your fingers are intertwined and squeezing the other tightly, happy and content within the presence of the other, acting as though both of yours personal heavens.

Viktor loved hard but you loved him even harder as you would kiss your words of affirmation into his skin, softly, slowly so that he could feel each and every ounce of affection your pouring into him. You’d kiss his neck sweetly and even playfully nibble it just to hear the hitch in his breath and smirking to yourself, before continuing to kiss your way up to his ear where you’d whisper loving words into that would supersede his worries and insecurities; all the while running your hands up and down his sides as they lovingly held his waist and your thumbs were gingerly stroking his hips.

You’d kiss up his jaw, cheeks and to his temple where you’d rest your head against as you felt him melt further beneath your touch. You worshiped every aspect of him a thousand times over because you loved Viktor too much to dare leave an aspect of him untouched and obsessively kissed upon. You wanted to repay the love he’s given you by giving him for loving he deserved, unconditional affection. So you’d spent minutes or even hours holding Viktor close to your chest as you praised him and showered him in kisses from his forehead, his back, chest, arms, hands, thighs and so much more to show him that his love was greatly reciprocated by you; kneeling at his feet as you worshiped your lover the way you thought was more then appropriate for your beloved Viktor.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I love writing toxic people.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“Mr. Hansen--” You begin, choking on your error, “Lloyd, my flight--” 

“Christ, I told you, cancel it. I’ll add the difference to your next check,” he grits under his breath. 

You plant your feet, shifting despite your effort as he keeps his grip on your hand. He turns back with a grunt. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks. 

“No, what are you doing?” You throw back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“First, watch that sweet mouth of yours. Second, we’ve been through this, Pixie pie. You just need to play along,” he keeps his voice low and peeks over his shoulder. “Loosen up a bit.” He loosens his hold on you and runs his hand up your sleeve. “Hm, I guess I shoulda told you to dress up a bit.” 

“What?” You look down at your black cotton tea-length dress. You chose it for comfort but it’s not entirely frumpy. The ribbed stockings might not add much to the attire however. 

“Just...” He grabs your shoulders and nudges them back, “push the chest out a bit.” 

“Ugh,” you clasp onto his wrists, “stop. Okay. I’ll stay for dinner but I can’t miss my flight--” 

“You have to,” he argues. 

“You realise this is wildly inappropriate,” you say. 

“Do you really expect anything different?” He tweaks a brow. “You’re staying. I’m not doing this alone. I put it off for a decade already--” 

“Jesus--” 

“No blasphemy either,” he lets go of you and presses his finger to your lips. You growl and shove his hand away. 

“I want a bonus, a big bonus--” 

He hushes you and waves his hands. He leans back and once more looks over his shoulders. “Later. We’ll deal with numbers in private. Right now, you need to come meet your in-laws.” 

You squint at him. It’s an act, you remind yourself, but something about his commitment to it makes you uneasy. You know better than to believe a word that comes out of his mouth but there’s a degree of earnestness in him that’s unsettling. 

“Baby, please, don’t look at me like that,” he steps closer, “I need you to look at me like I’m the second coming, okay? We’re madly in love, you and I.” Your eyes widen and he sighs, “okay, you’re not scared of me.” 

You neutralise your expression and blow out a long breath. You shake away the tension and shrug. It’s as good as you can do. 

“Here,” he grabs your wrist and turns, guiding your arm through his, “just smile pretty for me.” 

He hooks your elbow with his and urges you onward. You steel yourself for the room of strangers as their voices drift through the archway.  

You enter the front room and quickly scan the space; there’s a large-mouthed hearth, lit and draped in evergreen and berries; a long cream sectional, a matching duo of armchairs, and a chaise in the same shade; a low glass coffee table with a golden perch and a console table in a similar style along the wall crowded with bottles and crystal; an area rug in a smooth white with patterns in dulcet beige and rich butterscotch; and the low din is cast by tea lights daintily set around the space in glass holders and candelabra. 

More pressing than the decor are the bodies that fill the room. You recognise Ransom as he speaks with an older woman with short white hair and thick-framed glasses. She wears a red pantsuit with a gold blouse. Very festive. 

You glance over at Lloyd and take him in fully. You hadn’t paid much attention for the whirlwind all around. He wears a pair of evergreen slacks and a sweater with a reindeer's face on the front. He wouldn’t even let you put tinsel on your desk but now he’s dressed like a kid in a holiday parade. 

“Looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” a tall blonde woman approaches with a glass of pale wine in hand. You try not to look with concern at her rounded middle; it sticks out starkly as her long limbs are thin and lithe. “A very grim Christmas indeed.” 

“Lillian,” Lloyd faces the woman about his own height. She has his eyes and his lips. You assume their relation before he declares it. “My sister, Pixie,” he gestures to her carelessly. 

“Older sister,” she preens and rests her hand on her swollen stomach. Your eyes flick away from the crystal in her hand. 

“By about thirty-one seconds,” Lloyd scoffs. 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s non-alcoholic,” she swirls the wine in her glass, “she’s so tiny and quiet.” 

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

She laughs, “oh, so polite. Entirely not his type.” 

You try not to react. You agree. You know the women that Lloyd really likes. You’ve screened their calls until they just give up on getting a second date. 

“Believe it or not, Lil, you’re not everyone’s type,” Lloyd retorts. “I think your ex-husband would agree. The second one too.” Lloyd lifts his chin and looks around, “is the third here or are we on number four?” 

“Lovely,” she spits. “Love you too, brother.” 

He shakes his head and draws you away from her. She raises her brows and her glass and sips. You let him take you away. You already despise most of these people. The room radiates with derision. Your family might have some grudges but there’s a general air of good will. 

“I need a drink,” he mutters. 

You gladly follow him to the table. He pours himself a tumbler from the boxy decanter. He sighs as he picks it up but stops himself from drinking. 

“Well, help yourself,” he says. 

You hesitate but not for long. You need something if you’re going to get through this. You pour yourself some chardonnay and sidle away from the table. You check your watch as you raise your glass. 

“Don’t fucking worry about your flight,” he hisses under his breath. “If I’m not getting out of this, you aren’t either.” 

“But why?” You ask behind the glass. 

“Not right now,” he warns and nods at another figure as they approach. “Uncle Benson.” 

“Junior,” the man returns. You drink your wine and don’t comment on the epithet. “Where’s the old man?” 

“Where he always is,” Lloyd replies. 

“Mm, and this is...” the older man looks at you pointedly, dipping his chin to do so. 

“Pixie. My fiancee,” Lloyd answers dully, almost deflating. 

“Benson,” the man offers his hand, “but a pretty girl like you can call me Benny.” 

“Benny,” Lloyd repeats to himself in confusion. 

You shake Benson’s hand, “um, thanks, nice to meet you.” 

“Mm, very nice to meet you,” he lifts your hand and smushes his lips to your knuckles. He clings to you, petting your hand. “You’re gorgeous, what’re you doing with this lump?” 

“Uncle,” Lloyd drones. 

“Adorable,” Benson inches closer, “my inheritance is bigger than his, among other things.” 

“Alright,” Lloyd snatches your hand away from him, “go have some water, Benson,” he growls, “think you’ve been into the brandy.” 

“I’d like to get into something else,” Benson snickers. 

You almost laugh, despite your disgust. You’ve heard that line before. Lloyd puts himself between you and the older man. “I think that’s why Carolyn filed the papers, huh.” 

“Oh, you little twat,” Benson snarls. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to disappoint her on your own.” 

Lloyd tuts and shakes his head as the man lumbers off. He turns around and drains his glass. It’s strange, seeing him in his natural habitat; he’s not so ‘alpha’ here. 

“Let’s get the rounds over with.” He grumbles. 

Your wine lasts you through the introductions. Two more uncles; Carter and Linus, along with their wives, Andrea and Angela. Then the full-blooded aunts; four of them, Raquel, Shanna, Beatrice, and Lana. All of them tall, blonde, and bold in their own way. Then a batch of cousins you can’t keep sorted; Ransom and his mother Linda, among them, with no explanation as to the rest of their tribe. 

Lloyd pours himself more whiskey. You abstain from a refill and stand near the wall, observing the wilderness of entitled trust-funders. It explains so much yet inspires so many more questions. You never expected Lloyd to be the dark horse. 

“Lonely?” The timbre startles you along with the twisting pinch on your ass.  

You yipe and snag the attention of several sets of eyes around the room, not least of all Benson, drooling over another snifter of dark alcohol. You swat Ransom’s hand away and face him amid the row of laughter. Despite the airs they put on, your audience is more amused than appalled. 

“Where’s your prince, huh?” Ransom asks. “All that whiskey and...” He holds up his index then lets it go limp, “don’t think it’ll be a very peppy after party, sweetheart.” 

You sniff and cross your arms. These people are at least consistent, grossly so. It makes you wonder why Lloyd was so insistent that you watch your mouth, especially when you’ve never stooped to his level before. 

“Is it much of a party if there’s only one attendee?” You counter. 

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, “what?” 

“Nothing,” you shake our head. You don’t need to explain the joke. Besides, this is all fake. Don’t let it get to you. 

“So, how long did he wait to put that ugly thing on your finger?” Ransom asks. 

You shrug, “long enough.” 

“Did he do the whole schtick? Get down on one knee? Put the ring in your wine glass?” He prods. 

“I’ll let him tell the story,” you say. 

“Hm, never knew a woman so unexcited about a wedding,” he snorts. 

“Maybe I’m just unexcited by my company,” you back away as his hand jiggles at his side. You eye his fingers, wary of another pinch. 

“Fine, marriage is boring anyways. What’s his favourite position? I always figured he lets the ladies do all the work,” he snickers. 

You stare at him. Not quite as offended as annoyed. You could ask him which hand he uses but you are not letting Lloyd drag you that low. Why are you even letting him put your through this? 

“Hugh,” Lloyd appears and slides his arm over your shoulders. 

“Little L,” Ransom retorts dryly. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd sneers as you resist the urge to shrug him off of you. 

“Where were you then? Leaving your woman all on her lonesome,” Ransom rubs his fingers together subtly and you scowl at him. 

“Broke the seal,” Lloyd deflects. “What do you care? You wanna hold it next time? 

“Hands are too big,” Ransom cackles. 

“Speaking of,” you pipe up. “The bathroom, where would that be?” 

Lloyd clucks and looks down at you, “down the hall, opposite the kitchen.” 

“Thanks,” you carefully slip away from him, “I’ll be back.” 

“Wait,” Lloyd catches your arm and pulls you back. “Not without this.” 

He leans in before you can react. He bends to press his lips to yours and you can’t repress a surprised squeak. He purrs and the vibration makes your skin crawl. What on earth?! 

You part and ignore the stares you can feel all around. Not just from Ransom but the rest of the room. What is he doing? That’s so embarrassing. 

You force a smile, “uh, be back.” 

You spin and scurry away. That room, those people, are suffocating, and Lloyd, not least of all. You hide in the bathroom, locking the door, and you take the moment of stillness to think. Big mistake as it all starts to set in. 

You drove all the way here under false pretenses. It’s believable that Lloyd would forget to bring the gifts. That tracks but this? The whole pretending to be engaged? What is his game? Is he really trying to impress anyone or is he torturing you? Why? 

You can’t figure any of it out. You gave up trying to understand your boss ages ago, you suppose you should do the same with these people and just get through this. For all your trouble, the food better be fucking delicious. 

You let yourself out of the bathroom and flatten against the door as you nearly collide with another person. Lillian nearly stomps right over you as she holds her stomach and rushes down the hallway. She lets out a sigh. 

“Oh, are you done in there? I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills. 

“Um, yeah, all done,” you sidle away from the door. 

“Could I trouble you for some help?” She asks. “This thing,” she pats her stomach, “I can get down but I can’t get up.” 

“Hm?” You furrow your brow in confusion, “help?” 

“We’re both girls,” she giggles. “And we’ll be sisters soon enough, won’t we?” 

“Um.” 

“You know, a pregnancy at my age, I really can’t strain myself,” she explains. 

“Oh, er, I guess--” 

“Thanks, sweetie,” she nudges you back into the bathroom. You have no choice as she heard you through. 

You stare at the wall as she slams the door and hustles over to the toilet. She pulls up her white dress and turns to sit, her silhouette a blur in your peripheral. You flick your eyes to the ceiling and bounce on your heels. 

Her stream flows out and fills the tense silence. She sighs. 

“Thank the lord,” she groans. “I swear, the little twerp is right on my bladder right now.” 

“Mm,” you nod and glance at the door. 

“I knew we should’ve gone with a surrogate,” she sniffs. “A piece of advice, when he puts one in you, make him suffer.” 

“Puts one...” you blink. “Um, I don’t...” 

“I mean, he’ll have to start trying as soon as the wedding night,” she laughs. “He’s getting up there. His swimmers won’t be as fast, will they? And the way he drinks, they’ll be too groggy to know which way is which.” 

“Um, we’ll worry about the wedding first--” 

“Enjoy it. Once you’re tied down, it’s not very much fun,” she says as she tears of tissue. “Alright then, darling, I need you.” 

You do your best not to see all of her. She reaches for you and you get close. You pull her up to her feet and she squeezes past you to the sink. You look at the toilet and shut the lid, flushing it with a push of the button. She washes her hands with a hum. 

“You’ll be so adorable when you’re big. Like an overstuffed teddy bear,” she chimes. “He’ll love that. He always did hate feeling small.” She twists off the faucet and dries her hands. “You must make him feel like the man he wishes he was.” 

You just look at her. You have no true reason to defend Lloyd, but because she’s so smug it irks you. You look her in the face, even if you feel ridiculous having to look up. 

“Well, he can piss on his own, so I think he’s just fine,” you step around her and swing open the door. The silence that follows you is the only satisfying thing about that night. 

[celisths]

JJK men reacting to you being quiet during sex | 18+

starring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Choso Kamo, Toji Fushiguro

warnings: explicit, suggestive, 18+

a/n: i didn't do all my usual boys for this bcs i don't know how much you guys will like this since this is my first time writing something like this, but if you like it and want more pls lmk!!

masterlist

Satoru Gojo

~this poor man was be so insecure

~he wouldn't say anything in the moment, not wanting to make things more awkward

~but afterwards, while you lay with your head on his chest, he couldn't help but speak up

~"did i... not make you feel good?" he would as quietly, almost bashfully, silently praying you would scream no

~and frankly, you almost did! you couldn't bare the shameful look on his face, looking like a kicked puppy

~as soon as you denied his accusation, his shoulders went slack as he let out a deep breath he didn't realise he was holding

~"why the heck were you so quiet then!?" he would whine, pulling you close against his chest with a big, childish pout on his glossy lips

Suguru Geto

~suguru would be more confused than concerned.

~i mean, it would really depend on the kind of sex you two are having. if its sloppy, lust drunk, sex after a while of not seeing each-other then you best believe sugu is way too pussy drunk to realise whether or not you're making noise.

~but if its slow, love-making and you're quiet? oh yeah, suguru is confused.

~he would whisper in your ear, "babygirl? thrust, why're you so quiet?", nipping on your earlobe with his sharp teeth

~you couldn't keep up the facade much longer- truthfully, you were being quiet because you thought your loudness would bother him.

~but when he deliberately bullied your poor g spot with his cock, you couldn't hold back wails and whines

~"atta girl..."

Kento Nanami

~Kento would probably discuss it with you the next morning, over coffee and a delicious breakfast he prepared for the two of you

~he would be sat across from you, nervously picking at the scrambled eggs on his plate as he wondered what the best way to word his next question would be

~"sweetheart, can we talk about last night...?" his voice would be totally level, but his blue eyes looking anywhere but you're face would give him away

~"you were very... quiet. was i displeasing, my love?" oh how nervous ken would be for your answer, his worst nightmare was not being good enough to those he loved

~as soon as you reassured him, a smile creeped its way onto his lips. reaching over the table and grabbing your hand to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles

~kento had never been more relieved

Choso Kamo

~this poor boy would stop mid sex

~he would look into your confused eyes with his own concerned ones "my love, whats wrong??"

~he would be checking you for any signs of discomfort on or around you before you could even reply. as soon as you denied anything being wrong, his little frown would deepen.

~"but... you were so quiet.." he would be very confused at this concept, every other time you two had sex you would be loud and whiney, why was this time different?

~"i just wanted to enjoy the moment with out my annoying moa-" but you were cut off by your sweet, sweet boy slipping his cock back into your pussy.

~"no... wanna hear you baby, please..." and god, how could anyone say no to that cute little voice?

Toji Fushiguro

~as soon as toji notices that you're not making any- nah, holding back your pretty noises he doubled his efforts

~you really think toji fushiguro is going to let you get away with being quiet? hahahaha

~he would thrust his cock a little deeper, his fat head massaging your g spot perfectly

~when you still didn't give in, he got just a little pissed.

~"trying to stay fuckin' quiet?" his thumb started toying with your swollen clit, lips clasping around one of your nipples. he was determined to break you

~a wicked grin split across his lips when he heard your little whines, and hums, turn into wails and incoherent babbling

~"what i fuckin' thought..."

credits to @saradika-graphics for banners

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Skydiving.

word count - 1.4k

The camera then cut to a video of you walking up a grass hill towards a big house, you were wearing a white play suit, your hair tied up in a pony tail as you fiddled with your wedding ring, something that you often did when you were nervous.

You walked up to the house, walking through it and letting your feet lead you outside.

You peered your head around the corner, making eye contact with all of the contestants.

Oti Mabuse,

Tulisa,

Danny Jones,

Dean McCullough,

And Jane Moore.

“Ahh!” Tulisa ran towards you the second she saw you and embraced you in a hug. You recognised all of the people in front of you which you were glad about.

You had met Tulisa a few times over the years, a few times when Harry had performed on the x-factor.

“It’s so nice to see all of you,” you grinned, after Danny Jones brought you in for a hug.

“Can’t believe Harry Styles wife is stood right in front of me,” Dean couldn’t wrap his head around it. “— think you can give him my number when we get out of here?”

You laughed, embracing him.

Danny smiled, before bringing everyone around him into a hug.

“Campmates!”

The sound of helicopters in the air brought you out of the hug, you lifted your head up, linking arms with Dean.

“What is that noise?” He asked, mouth falling agape.

“It’s a helicopter!” You exclaimed, pointing your hand up into the air. “— holy cow!”

Soon enough, six helicopters could be seen.

“Six?” Danny widened his eyes. “Are you having a laugh?”

Jane pointed to one of the helicopters. “It’s Ant and Dec!”

The six camp mates started jumping up and down, you had to admit that you were a little bit excited.

“Six helicopters,” Danny could hardly contain his excitement as he counted all the people around him. “One, two, three, four, five, six!”

It felt like something out of a movie as the double act walked towards the six of you, you gulped.

“Here comes trouble!” Oti gasped.

“Look at you, you all look gorgeous,” Ant grinned and held his hands out.

Dec smiled. “— welcome to Australia!”

“Now take in all that’s around you,” Dec continued, an evil glint to his eye. “— because you won’t be here long.”

You gulped, one foot kicking the heel of your other foot out of nerves.

Was it too late to back out?

You and Dean exchanged a look.

“You all about to take part in a race to become the first leaders of camp,” the shorter host began explaining. “— down there are six helicopters, each for one of you.”

“Oh god,” you eyes widened slightly. “I know where this is going.”

Ant pointed at you all. “Before you take off you might want to grab yourselves a parachute! Because you’ll all be skydiving out of your chopper!”

Danny started pumping his hands up into the air.

“Someone’s excited.”

Danny let out a laugh. “— I don’t know why I just thought I’d celebrate.”

That got you laughing.

“Once you landed, you’ll meet your other celebrities.” Ant continued. “— you will then have to pick a celebrity to partner up with.”

Dec instructed. “The pair who win the race will become the first leaders of camp and that comes with perks.”

“You’ll be sleeping in the comfort of the leaders lodge and will be exempt from the first bush tucker trial.”

Ant then remembered something as he turned to his best friend. “I’ve just realised we’re terrible hosts, we haven’t offered them a welcome drink.”

“I’m fine thanks.” You smiled, making everyone laugh at you.

Just as you said that, a waiter came walking over, holding a tray of drinks in his hand.

“The welcome drinks are not very welcoming,” Dec expressed, “— this is blended bull’s penis and fish eye with vomit fruit garnish.”

Oh god, you were going to be sick.

“The order in which you finish your drinks will be the order in which you jump out of the helicopter, which will then result in the order you pick your partner.”

The six camp mates then walked over to pick up one of the glasses and you made the grave mistake of smelling the contents.

Your never doing that again.

“The race is about to begin,” Ant stated. “Ready…steady…go!”

You placed the vomit fruit up to your mouth and chewed on it as fast as you possible could, your eyes were closed, focusing on anything but the food in your mouth.

You then brought the drink up to your mouth, drinking through the straw, you pulled away and gagged, nothing came up but you were close.

When you looked up, you noticed Danny was almost done and Tulisa was close behind him.

There was no way that you were going to come last.

The straw came back in connection with your mouth and you drank like your life depended on it.

Danny finished his drink first, placing his drink on the table, and Tulisa came third, followed by you in third, Jane in fourth, Dean in fifth and Oti in sixth.

The next think you knew, you were running down the hill towards the helicopters, a man with a parachute waiting for you.

Up, up and away.

As Harry approached the beach area, was when he spotted a few other celebrities stood there.

“Harry!”Melvin exclaimed, running over to give the man a hug. “— long time no see!”

“Hi, how are you?”the singer asked, stepping away from the embrace.

“I’m good,” Melvin smiled. “You?”

Harry nodded his head as he fiddled with his wedding ring. “Yeah, m’good, tired but good.”

The next camp mate approached, it was Colleen Rooney.

So then everyone was there.

GK Barry,

Alan Halsall,

Barry McGuigan,

Colleen Rooney,

And Melvin Odoom.

“So this is it then?” GK asked, looking around at everyone. “— honestly im shitting it, not going to lie to you all.”

Suddenly a ringing sound became known to the celebrities, Harry pursed his lips.

“What’s that?” Colleen asked, hands on her hips.

“Shall we have a look?”

Alan leaned forward and hesitantly pressed the button, Harry stood there, eyebrows furrowed.

The ringing stopped.

“Celebrities…” it was Ant.

“How are you all feeling?”

“M’palms are sweaty.” Harry murmured, wiping them against his shorts.

He was wearing a pair of cream shorts with a white tank top with a matching cream top over the top.

“Well we can help with that because you are about to take part in a race to become the first leaders of camp and they will sleep in the leaders lodge and will be exempt from the first bush ticket trial.”

“However, the race has already began, five of your fellow celebrities will be skydiving down next to you and will be picking one of you to be part of the team.”

That was when Harry realised that one of those contestants would be his wife, and he knew for a fact that his wife was immensely scared of heights.

So scared that on the flight out of here, she was practically in his lap during the take off, he had to hold her down in the seat.

“Once your picked, you will then leave the beach and continue the race.”

You were shitting it.

There was no way that you would be able to jump out of this helicopter.

Oh god.

Oh golly gosh.

The professional skydiver was sat behind you, attached.

You looked out of the window and watched as Danny exited the helicopter and shortly after Tulisa did the same.

Now it was your turn.

“Are you ready?”The skydiver asked, shimmying the two of you closer to the open door.

“I don’t think I can do it.” A start tear fell down your face as you contemplated the idea of skydiving.

And then your mind drifted to Harry.

What would he be saying to you if he was sat next to you.

“Y’got this m’sunshine.”

“M’so proud of you already.”

“Let’s do it.” You took a big intake of breath as you were shuffled even closer.

And when the light turned green you were propelled out of it and flipping through the sky.

A scream ripped through your chest.

But once you had stopped flipping, it was one of the most amazing things you had ever seen.

You were above the ocean, you could see things for miles.

“This is amazing!”you exclaimed, as you fell.

Danny was the first to land and he partnered up with Barry and Tulisa picked Alan.

When you landed, you fell softly but rough on the sand, you were quickly unclipped and you ran forward to pick a partner.

And when you approached, you got the biggest surprise of your life.

“H?”

He grinned up at you sheepishly whilst rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sunshine!”

taglist: @luvr4miya @thurhomish @shanice

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Do we know how Price came to his hat?

How about Nik gave it to him shortly after they met, because young Price got horribly sunburned on his face and neck, the translucent (and at that time not yet so freckly) fucker. He kept it every since. It's practical! It's only because it's practical, you see. No other reason.

Nik POV: That's my ha- nevermind, I'll never get it back (insert budding feelings accompanied by possessive pride that Price wears some of his)

Fuuuck, I love this so much. I usually have the cigar habit as something Nik gave him, but this is equally as delicious.

Maybe they were conducting an op in the middle east somewhere. It was a dry heat out in the desert so Price didn't notice it as much. He was used to the clammy, uncomfortable heat we get in the UK. To him, that's heat, the kind that makes you soak through your shirt at the back, under your arms, under your damn tits.

The dry desert crept up on him and while he absolutely recognised the importance of maintaining himself properly so that he didn't jeopardise their mission, he had been single-mindedly focused on everyone and everything else besides. He didn't realise he was dehydrated until he started getting dizzy while looking over a map with Mac and Nik.

Mac took one look at him and grunted. "When's the last time ye took a pish?"

Price couldn't fuckin' remember, could he? He looked at his captain stupidly, dry mouth sticky and cloying.

"Fer fuck sake, g'wan back tae the tent, ye dafty. If ah see ye out here before ye've sunk a litre, ah'll skelp ye. Nik, get him outta my sight."

So, Nik walked Price back to the tent they were storing a few crates worth of explosives in and sat him down with a Camelbak full of cold water. Once Price started drinking, he couldn't stop, it was possibly the best thing he had ever tasted in his bloody life. It didn't matter that half of it sloshed down his stubbled chin onto his shirt.

"Ah, ah, take it easy, lieutenant," Nik said, placing one of his big hands over Price's wrist. "You will make yourself sick." He smiled big, unabashed, and Price looked at himself in those mirrored aviators with a faint scowl. It was unreasonable how good-lookin' Nik was in a backwards khaki patrol cap and sunglasses. Shouldn't Russians burn in the heat? They were fifty percent snow, weren't they?

"'m fine," Price sniffed, always a little defensive around Nikolai, and now feeling extra sensitive after getting bollocked in front of him.

He hated that Nik made him feel his age. Twenty-three was young for a lieutenant but it was never usually a problem. People saw his scores, his records, his medals even now, and they forgot his age. But Nik had a way of reminding Price that, while he was looking up swearwords in the French dictionary at school to try and impress Tracy from class 9B2, Nik was already flying Sukhois and learning fifty ways to kill a man.

Nik nodded and they sat in silence for a while. Price's eyes wandered to the tent flap, and he was returning to the map in his mind when Nik's fingers, cool from where they had been holding the water bottle, touched his ears. They felt like shards of ice. "Ah, wossat fer, ya muppet?" He grumbled.

Nik's grin grew a little wider. "Your ears have burned, and the back of your neck."

"Fuck sake, I put factor fifty on this mornin'..." Price traced his fingers from his ear down his neck. The burning stopped at the line of his shemagh, which had offered some protection, even soaked in sweat.

"Da, but you are... hmm, svyetlokozshee, uh.." Nik's eyes flicked back and forth as if reading from an internal dictionary, "ah, fair-skinned."

It was damn impressive how he did that. His file had said eight languages. English was number eight. Mac had said something about mensa international having a file on Nik too. Too intelligent to be slumming it in the desert with the SAS, and yet here he was.

The way Nik said fair-skinned sounded far too fond and Price's skin would be blushing if it wasn't already red. He decided not to examine the reaction too closely. Price touched his ears gingerly, and scrunched his nose. "Great."

"You must look after yourself, lieutenant. You are the most valuable asset here." Nik dropped his pack from his shoulder and began rummaging through. He pulled out a roll of khaki and shoved it into Price's hands. When Price unrolled it, he puffed a laugh.

"A boonie hat, you jossin' me?"

Nik looked at him blankly.

"Oh, uh... Takin' the piss, as in, I'm gonna look like a twat if I wear this."

Nik rolled his shoulders in an 'eh' shrug that made Price want to shove the hat in his mouth. "You will look like a twat if you faint in the heat and the captain has to carry you out under fire."

Price licked the salt from his lips, fixing Nik with a long stare, hating the fact that he was right more than he hated the boonie hat. "Fair," he said, finally. He unrolled it, flattened out the brim, and shoved it on his head, picking up the water bottle for another long drink.

Nik watched him, eyes invisible behind his aviators, but Price was sure he was... admiring. Just felt it. Nik always looked at him in ways like that. Fuck knows why. "Wot?" Price asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist.

"Hm, just... an echo of tomorrow."

"You are bloody odd, Nik."

"Da," Nik conceded, slapping his knees before he rolled to his feet. "I will tell the captain you are almost ready. Two hundred and fifty more millilitres to go, such a good boy."

A shiver of something not entirely unpleasant ran down Price's spine, and he growled. "Just for that I'm gonna tip it on the floor."

"No, you will not." Nik didn't even look back as he walked out of the tent.

Price scowled, flashed his middle finger at Nik's back, and drank the last quarter of a litre as petulantly as he could muster. "Fuckin' wanker..."