#faints dramatically into your arms with my arm draped over my face

[itskinwell]

Primis dempsey dm pls i miss u big guy

[goldfades]

more luke hughes fics im literally on my knees

i haven't written for baby luke in forever and since i am deathly ill, here is a little fic about being sick.

Luke Hughes is dying.

At least, that's what he claims, his voice scratchy with dramatic flair as he groans from the depths of your bed—not his bed, of course, because apparently yours is "infinitely more comfortable." Never mind that his mattress is practically brand new, or that he has a fancy memory foam pillow that cost more than your monthly grocery bill. No, according to Luke, your slightly lumpy, average, definitely-not-fancy bed holds some magical, restorative quality that his can't compete with. He's staked his claim, a tangle of long limbs and disheveled blankets, looking like the tragic hero of his own melodramatic play.

You stand in the doorway, arms crossed, watching the heap of misery that is your boyfriend. His hoodie is bunched up around his waist, revealing a sliver of pale skin, and his nose is an impressive shade of pink. A tissue dangles precariously from his hand, and a mountain of its crumpled comrades litters the floor beside him like the aftermath of a very soft, very sneezy battle.

"I think I'm dying," Luke mumbles, voice thick with congestion, like he’s auditioning for the role of Most Pathetic Human Alive.

"You're not dying," you reply, deadpan. "You have a cold."

He sniffles dramatically, pulling the blanket up over his head with the kind of effort that suggests he's lifting a thousand-pound weight. "It's worse than a cold. It's, like, a super cold. A mega cold."

You roll your eyes, but there's an undeniable fondness tucked between the sarcasm and sighs. Crossing the room, you perch on the edge of the bed, nudging his burrito-shaped form with your elbow. "Did the super cold steal your ability to get up and drink water? Because there's a glass on the nightstand that's been sitting there since this morning."

A muffled, tragic noise emerges from under the blanket. "It tastes better when you bring it to me."

Of course it does.

You sigh, not because you're annoyed, but because this is Luke—your Luke. And if he wants to be a big, whiny baby about his "super cold," you can let him have this one. Grabbing the glass, you shift closer, lifting his blanket just enough to see his pouty, flushed face peeking out.

"Here, Your Highness," you say, gently pressing the cool glass to his hands. He takes it with exaggerated gratitude, like you've just fetched him water from the Fountain of Youth.

"You're the best," he croaks dramatically, taking a small sip as if it's his last.

You brush his messy hair off his damp forehead, the affection slipping through without resistance. "Anything else for the dying man? Grapes? A cool cloth? A lullaby?"

His eyes, glassy from the congestion, brighten a little. "A cuddle might help. For medicinal purposes."

You chuckle softly, sliding under the covers beside him. He immediately drapes himself over you, all heavy limbs and needy warmth, burying his face into your neck with a satisfied sigh.

"Definitely medicinal," he mumbles, already sounding less miserable.

And even though he’s sniffly and probably spreading his germs, you let him.

A few minutes pass, filled with his occasional sniffles and dramatic sighs. Then, with a pitiful groan, he mumbles, "I might never recover. This could be it for me."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, the corners of your mouth twitching. "Oh no, what will the world do without Luke Hughes?"

"It'll be a darker place," he whispers, clutching your arm weakly, as if this is his final goodbye. "Tell my story. Be brave."

You snort, unable to hold it in any longer. "I'll make sure they build a statue in your honor. Right in the middle of the living room."

He peeks up at you with glassy, puppy-dog eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the act. "Make sure it’s life-sized. Actually, bigger. Like, heroic proportions."

"Naturally," you reply, stroking his hair with mock seriousness. "Anything for the hero of our time."

And even though he's being ridiculous, you don't mind. Because he's your ridiculous, dramatic, oversized baby—and you love him for it.

A week later, the universe proves it has a twisted sense of humor.

You’re bundled on the couch, tissues piled around you in a sad, crumpled fortress, your head pounding and nose stuffy—an exact, miserable mirror of Luke’s performance from last week. The only difference? You’re not nearly as dramatic. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Luke, on the other hand, is thriving. Not because you’re sick—though he does seem a little too smug about it—but because he’s now fully recovered and basking in the role reversal with alarming enthusiasm.

He saunters into the living room, wearing that infuriatingly healthy glow, hair tousled perfectly like he’s in a shampoo commercial. He’s holding a cup of tea with both hands, an exaggerated look of sympathy plastered on his face.

“Aww, look at my poor, sick baby,” he coos, crouching beside you and tucking the blanket around your shoulders like you’re fragile glass. “Is this what it felt like when I was dying?”

You glare at him, voice raspy as you croak, “You weren’t dying.”

“Oh, I was,” he insists dramatically, setting the tea down with the flair of someone performing a sacred ritual. “But unlike some people, I didn’t complain.”

You snort, which unfortunately turns into a cough. Luke pats your back with an over-the-top gentleness, like he’s comforting a Victorian child with consumption.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, brushing your hair off your clammy forehead with mock tenderness. “I’ll tell your story. Be brave.”

You weakly smack his arm, but the grin on your face betrays you.

[wileys-russo]

ingrid, “how long was i out?”, living room. thank you! 🫶🫶

squeamish II i.engen

you frowned hearing the commotion, trying to turn and push your way into the pack of players crowded around vicky, only a hand grabbed your bicep and tugged you away.

"ing what-" you looked on confused as your girlfriend practically dragged you off the pitch, the team dispersing slowly as two of the medical team arrived and seemed to shoo them all away, the session done for the afternoon.

"she has a nose bleed, pina kicked her in the face with the ball." the norweigan explained, letting you go and walk of your own accord once she'd deemed the two of you were far enough away.

"so?" you frowned, confused as to why she'd been so determined to pull you away, all you'd wanted to do was make sure the young spaniard was alright. "so?" ingrid mocked with a roll of her eyes.

"you faint at even a drop of blood kjæreste." your girlfriend reminded sternly, holding the door open for you as you wandered through with a scoff.

"i am not that bad ingrid, i can handle a nose bleed!" you argued, the two of you bickering back and forth until ingrid was too tired to continue, leaving you to pack up your belongings as she moved across the room to do the same.

"ay amiga!" you looked up from your bag with a raised eyebrow, cata slinking over with a grin that you should have known meant trouble. "want to see a funny video?" the goalkeeper asked as you shrugged and she darted closer, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

what you failed to see was ona and pina subtly recording from a few feet away, however your eagle eyed girlfriend clocked it straight away as frido nudged her, sensing something was about to happen.

you waited patiently while cata tapped around on her phone for a moment before turning the screen toward you, a tiktok of some sort of surgery shown but all you could focus on was the blood dripping from the open wound.

and then like clockwork, down you went.

the three younger girls roared laughing but this quickly ceased as frido and ingrid arrived, frido shooing them all away with a glare as your girlfriend carefully propped you up into a seated position, a few of the older girls hovering nearby as irene took off to go yell at the culprits.

"what happened?" you asked as you blinked slowly, it normally didn't take you very long to come to after you'd fainted which was something ingrid was grateful for, as well as the fact most of the time you seemed to have a knack for avoiding head knocks as you fell.

a water bottle placed in your hand you pushed away ingrids own which pressed against your forehead, mumbling you were fine in between small sips as the taller girl insisted on fussing over you as if you weren't.

"pide disculpas!" irene returned and ordered, marching cata, ona and pina with her who slouched over with crossed arms like scolded toddlers.

"lo siento." all three murmured in sync, sent to pack up their bags as alexia smacked pina over the head who whined and pointed to cata claiming it was her who was the ring leader in all this.

~

"ingrid. min kjære i am fine!" you chuckled as your girlfriend draped a blanket over you, tucking in the ends as if you were some sick elderly individual with the flu. "hey!" you protested as the can of coke you intended to crack was snatched out of your hand and replaced with a water.

"i don't have a concussion!" you groaned, though you'd been with the raven haired beauty long enough now to know there wasn't a point in arguing as any and all attempts would fall on deaf ears.

"can i have my phone at least? vær så snill?" you begged, knowing it was tucked away in your girlfriends bag where she'd put it a few hours ago, insisting it was bad for your head to stare at a screen after fainting, as always.

"you do not need a phone søtsaker, you have me!" the girl announced happily, gesturing for you to sit up as she slid herself behind you.

ignoring your over dramatic sigh you both wiggled around for a second to get comfortable, your body now wedged between ingrids long legs as your back rested against her front.

"no! since i am apparently the patient, i pick." you were quick to grab the remote out of her hand, flicking on the tv and browsing through a few different streaming services, ignoring ingrids complaining that you always took a million years to choose something.

"vi har sett dette!" your girlfriend groaned in both your native tongues, palm smacking against her forehead as you huffed and exited out of your initial choice.

"maybe you will choose something by kick off tomorrow, no?" the girl faked a yawn and checked an imaginary watch on her rest as you reached up and bonked her lightly on the head with the remote in response.

"not this." ingrid disagreed again as you picked something else and now you groaned. "why? we have not seen it." you argued as she firmly shook her head. "you do not do well with action movies kjæreste, blood?" ingrid prompted causing you to scoff.

"fake blood, is fine!" you insisted as once again your girlfriend was too tired to argue, gesturing for you to click play as you did so and settled down, stretching an arm up to tangle a hand in the taller girls hair, nails scratching against her scalp rhythmically.

bar the odd shared kiss or commentary you seemed fine for the first half hour of the movie, though a lot of that was just build up to the main fight scene which was about to happen.

"hva da?" your girlfriend questioned groggily as you pushed up off of her, readjusting the blanket to drape across her midsection as you stood. "popcorn, keep watching i can hear it." you insisted with a flick of your wrist as you hurried to the kitchen.

tossing the packet into the microwave and getting out a bowl you moved to stand behind the couch, not bothered to sit back down for a whole two and a half minutes while the kernels popped away and all the action kicked off.

ingrid didn't even realise you were there as she watched on, until someone took a chainsaw to someone elses face and blood splattered at the screen, she heard a loud thump.

shooting up and peering over the back of the lounge your girlfriend couldn't help but let out a small snort of laughter, quickly finding her own feet and rushing around to help you.

when you came to it was not in the same place you'd fainted, now laying on something much softer than your living room floor as you blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to your dimly lit bedroom.

"velkommen tilbake." you felt a pair of pillow soft lips press against your forehead with a chuckle as a ring clad hand sweeped a few loose strands of hair out of your face.

"how long was i out?" you questioned tiredly, blinking and rubbing at your eyes with a stretch and an exhale. "long enough for me to carry you to bed." ingrid grinned as you groaned, rolling over and hiding your face in her shoulder.

"i told you the movie was too much min kjære." ingrid hugged you tightly with a smile as you grumbled something inaudible into her jumper. "i have a medical condition don't bully me." you repeated at her request, rolling onto your face with a scowl.

"better it happen in our own home than on the pitch in a final!" ingrid teased as you whined and covered your face with your hands. "you promised to stop bringing that up!" you kicked your girlfriend who laughed and pulled your hands away, peppering a few apologetic kisses to your puckered lips.

"you know this is almost as good as the time you insisted on watching greys anatomy my love." "baby that was not my fault. fridolina told me it was a cooking show!"

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Self Fulfilling Prophecy

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

Summary: Potters love like it's a sport, but it seems that only a Black can challenge that.

WC: 3.6k

CW: Sexual leaning scene, Hurt Comfort right back to Hurt, background Jegulily, Alphard Black the gay.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is Sirius’s arm draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns along your bare skin. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the room, turning the tousled sheets into a hazy, dreamlike mess. The scent of Sirius- smoke, cedar, and something warmer, more distinctly him- lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a second blanket.

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb the warmth around you, and feel Sirius stir behind you. His breath brushes against the back of your neck, followed by the low rumble of his voice, thick with sleep. "Morning, trouble."

A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it. “Morning,” You mumble, voice soft and still tinged with the haze of sleep.

Sirius leaned up on his elbow, the lazy grin he always wore stretched across his face. His fingers ghosted over the faint marks he had left along your neck, brushing over them like they’re something sacred. “Look at you,” His voice dipped lower. “A proper masterpiece. I should frame you.”

You swat at him, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Oh, I mean it,” Sirius smirked as he dodged your half-hearted attack. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoyed last night more than you’re letting on.”

Your fingers twitch against the sheets, and you fight the urge to glance at him again. You lose. He’s already watching you, that teasing gleam in his grey eyes, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. And damn him, he probably does. Your eyes flick down, and that’s when you notice the marks on his chest- red scratches trailing down his sides, love bites peppered along his collarbone. 

Your cheeks burned hotter.

Sirius noticed. Of course he does. He leaned in, his grin downright smug. “Admiring your handiwork, love?”

“I’m admiring the fact that you didn’t fall apart under pressure,” Your words were quick but locked any real bite.

“Oh, I definitely fell apart,” He murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth, like silk sliding over bare skin. He trailed a hand down your back, pulling you just a little closer. “You made it easy.”

You laughed, soft and genuine, before gently pushing his hand away and sitting up. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” you said lightly, brushing a hand through your hair as you swung your legs off the bed. The warmth of the morning fades slightly as your feet hit the cool floor.

Sirius lets out a dramatic groan behind you, flopping onto his back like you’ve just delivered a mortal wound. “What, you’re leaving already? I thought we’d at least have breakfast. Maybe share a cigarette. Do that thing where you call me insufferable and I remind you you’re madly in love with me.”

You glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got a hell of a memory for something that didn’t happen.”

“Oh, but it will,” He ran his fingers through his hair, propping himself up on an elbow, his grin widened. “Mark my words, love. You’ll miss me by lunch. Or sooner.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you gather your clothes. “Whatever you say, Pads.”

“Mm, you kept a keen ear for what I said last night.” He teased in that insufferable song of his, watching you with an infuriatingly casual air as you pull on your shirt. “But you’re leaving in my favorite shirt, which means I’ll have to track you down to get it back. Convenient, isn’t it?”

You glanced down, realizing you are indeed wearing one of his threadbare band tees, and roll your eyes. “Consider it compensation. For the rabid assault one my neck I endured.”

“Oh, you wound me,” He sighed dramatically, rolling out of bed. “Stealing my shirt, leaving me all alone… You’re really a heartbreaker, trouble.”

Despite yourself, you laughed, slipping on your shoes and brushing your hair out of your face. Sirius was already pulling on his trousers, looking every bit the disheveled rogue he prides himself on. By the time you’ve straightened yourself up, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that lopsided grin that always makes you feel like he’s up to something.

“Need anything before you go?” He prodded, his tone light, almost mockingly polite. “Coffee? Another round of ego-boosting compliments? My eternal devotion?”

You shook your head, smirking. “I’m good, thanks. And as for your eternal devotion, I think James called dibs on that.”

Sirius chuckled, following you to the door. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t wear my shirts nearly as well as you do. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Pads,” You smirked, turning to look at him as you pulled the door open.

He stepped closer, brushing a lock of hair out of your face with a lazy affection that feels almost second nature. Before you said anything, he kissed you- not desperate or heavy, just Sirius, soft and familiar, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When he pulled back, he grinned and muttered, “I love you,” that same way he always has, like it’s just another part of his vocabulary.

You smile faintly, choosing to ignore it. As you always have. “See you around, Siri.”

“Mhm,” He smiled easily, leaning against the doorframe as you step outside. “And don’t think for a second you’re keeping that shirt.”

You toss him a smirk over your shoulder. “Guess you’ll have to come and get it.”

Sirius stays in the doorway, watching you until you disappear around the corner. Whispering a soft curse as he watched you turn the corner.

~~~

In every single universe, a Potter falls for a Black.

And in every single universe, it didn't end well.

You knew it better than most. From the look in your brother's eyes in his seventh year, when you found him crying in the common room. He confessed to you then, about him. About Lily. About Regulus. 

You would say you were surprised to learn about what those three had been up to together, but it only reinforced your firm belief in this messy web you were born into. 

It was like a self fulfilling prophecy. Just a year earlier, you sat with your father in the kitchen, listening to stories about him and a young Alphard Black. He didn't have to tell you what he meant to him, you could see it. In the way he looked at the photo book- in the way he looked after Sirius.

Potters and Blacks would find each other in every reality, in every universe, in every bloody cliche. And every single time, it would end with someone shattered.  

For your father, it ended with Alphard estranged and lost to time- the only true family he had left going to seek refuge in the arms of the man he once loved- their love buried under the weight of duty and expectations. For James, it ended with Regulus’s name carved into a cold, unforgiving wall in the Department of Mysteries, a ghost of what could have been.  

And for you…  

You weren’t sure yet.  

You closed your eyes briefly, the crisp morning air biting at your cheeks as you walked further from Sirius’s flat. The weight of his kiss, his touch, lingered like a brand. It wasn’t fair how easily he could pull you back in, how effortlessly he made you forget the countless reasons why this wasn’t supposed to happen.  

It’ll end the same way it always does, You reminded yourself. Sirius might love endlessly, recklessly, but love alone had never been enough for the Potters and the Blacks. You knew this was temporary, just another bright, fleeting moment in a cycle destined to burn out.  

But Sirius wasn’t like your father, wasn’t like James. His love wasn’t something quiet and tragic- it was loud, defiant, impossible to ignore. He loved you like he was daring the universe to try and stop him.  

What terrified you more than anything was the universe usually had the last laugh.

You reminded him every time you slipped into his bed. That it wasn't love, it wasn't more than this. 

And every single time he just smiled, as if he knew something you didn’t.  

Sirius Black never argued when you said it wasn’t love. He never fought when you insisted it was just a fleeting thing, something to pass the time, a distraction from the war, from the scars it left on both of you. He let you tell yourself that, let you believe it, but the look in his eyes always betrayed him.  

Because Sirius loved with the kind of intensity that burned everything else away, and no matter how many times you told him this wasn’t forever, he never stopped looking at you like you were.  

“Whatever you need me to be, love,” He'd whisper, his voice soft but steady, as if daring you to test the limits of his patience.  

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Sirius never played by the universe’s rules. He’d already broken them a hundred times over- leaving the Black family, choosing James and the Marauders, standing on the side of a war that could have killed him. What was one more rebellion, one more forbidden love? 

But you weren’t Sirius. You didn’t have his boundless courage or his endless defiance. You couldn’t throw yourself into love with the same reckless abandon, couldn’t let yourself believe that this time, it would be different.  

So every time you left his bed, every time you pulled on one of his shirts and walked out the door, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself it was better this way- better to keep things simple, fleeting, to leave before it got too real.  

And every time, Sirius just let you go, leaning casually against the doorframe, a half-smirk on his lips that never quite reached his eyes.  

~~~

You hadn't seen Sirius since that morning. Not like you were trying particularly hard, he had The Order and you had your Auror work to busy yourself with. The next time you did see him, you were scared half to death.

The panic in James’s voice is what froze your blood. He didn't explain much over the Floo- just a frantic “Sirius is hurt. You need to come. Now.”

You didn't hesitate, heart in your throat as you grabbed your wand and Apparated to the safe house. The spinning sensation barely registered as you landed in the living room, your eyes immediately darting around for Sirius.  

Instead, you saw James pacing furiously, running a hand through his hair as he muttered to himself. Lily sat nearby, trying to calm him.  

“He’s going to be fine, James,” Her tone was soft- soothing but almost tired.  

James didn't respond, just kept pacing, his jaw tight. Across the room, Remus and Peter were talking in low voices, but you can’t hear them over the rush of blood in your ears.  

“Where is he?” You hissed- but not out of anger- it was the only tone you could take without letting the tears in your eyes spill over.

James finally stopped, turning to you with an expression that’s equal parts relief and frustration. “He’s in the other room. He took a hit, but Remus patched him up. I told him to stay in bed, but of course, he-”

Before James can finish, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and there he was.  

Sirius Black.  

Alive, upright, and grinning like he hasn’t just shaved years off your life.  

He was shirtless, a fresh bandage wrapped diagonally across his chest, and his hair is a wild mess, but he looked fine. More than fine, in fact, because he immediately started to crack a joke.  

“See, James? Told you I’d have the most dramatic scar story at the pub.” He traced the lining of the bandages with a chuckle. “Birds love scars.”

The room collectively groaned, but not you. You couldn't seem to move, standing frozen as relief crashed over you in waves so strong it almost buckled your knees.  

He noticed you then, his grin softening as his grey eyes locked onto yours.  

“Hey, trouble,” He whispered, as casual as ever.  

You didn't think. You didn't process. You just moved.  

In three quick strides, you were in front of him, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as if to confirm he was really there. And then, before you could stop yourself, you kissed him.

It was hard and desperate, your lips pressed against his with all the relief, fear, and love you’ve been holding back for years. Sirius froze for a fraction of a second before he melted into you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck and his other slipping around your waist, as he deepened the kiss.  

Sirius pulled back slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his grey eyes searched your face. His hand is still cradling the back of your neck, his thumb brushing small, calming circles into your skin. He looks completely love-struck, his lips quirked into a soft smile as he takes in your tear-filled eyes.

“Don’t cry, love,” He murmured, his voice low and tender. “I’m here. Still breathing, still kicking. It’s going to take more than that to get rid of me.”

You shook your head, your hands fisted in the fabric of his trousers. You tugged him closer, as if the space between you had personally offended you; hardly able to whisper “You scared the hell out of me, Sirius. I thought- I thought-”

Your voice cracked, and Sirius pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I’m sorry,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m sorry, trouble.”

“That's not fair.” You practically croaked, leaning closer to brush your own kiss against his lips. He smiled into it, no matter how careful and quick it was. Your voice hitched at the end, as if this was all some scheme, trying to get you to understand- maybe pity the poor fool before it was too late. “You're not playing fair.”

Sirius's smile widened slightly, soft and crooked, the kind of smile that could pull you under if you weren’t careful. His thumb continued to trace gentle circles against your neck, grounding you, tethering you to him. He tilted his head, his voice low and teasing, but the affection in his gaze betrayed him. 

“When have I ever played fair, love?” He murmured, the words brushing against your lips. “You should know by now, I don’t give up.”

You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath as tears welled in your eyes again. “You make it impossible, Sirius. You make it so damn hard to stay away.”

“Good,” He hissed softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. “Because I don’t want you to stay away. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. Just… don’t walk away from me, alright?”

Your breath hitched as Sirius’s thumb brushed away a tear rolling down your cheek. His grey eyes softened as he tilted his head, his expression warm and teasing, but his voice tinged with sincerity. 

“I hate you,” You whispered, your voice barely audible and cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

“Yeah?” He murmured, his lips quirking upward, a hint of mischief in his grin.  

“I hate you so much, Siri,” You echoed, though the words lacked venom.  

“Do you, now?” Sirius teased gently, his voice soft as he slowly cradled your face in his hands. His thumbs traced light, soothing patterns along your jawline, grounding you.  

And then he kissed you- soft and slow, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t desperate or frantic. It was Sirius: steady, deliberate, and impossibly tender. You felt your knees weaken as you melted into him, his warmth washing over you like a balm to the panic still lingering in your chest.  

For a moment, it was just you and him, the rest of the world fading into the background. But then-

“Ahem,” Someone cleared their throat loudly, shattering the fragile bubble. You had to remind yourself you couldn't rim anyone up by their neck today- especially after the show you just put on.

You jumped back slightly, your cheeks burning as you turned to see James standing there, arms crossed, his eyebrows raised so high they were practically disappearing into his hairline.  

“Well,” James said slowly, his voice dripping with disbelief and barely concealed amusement. “This certainly explains a lot.”

“Oh, bugger off, James,” Sirius drawled, not even bothering to let go of your waist as he smirked at his best friend.  

James let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, gesturing between the two of you. “How long has this been going on? And why am I only just finding out now?”  

You buried your face in your hands, your mortification complete. “This is not how I wanted you to find out,” You mumbled.  

Sirius, of course, was utterly unbothered. “Well, Prongs, in all fairness- I just found out myself.”

Okay, that one did earn retaliation. 

You quickly hit his side and he gave a sound of dramatic pain, leaning down to steal another kiss as if that was punishment enough for your abuse. 

James let out another sharp laugh, his hands on his hips now as he surveyed the scene. “Oh, you just found out, did you, Pads? That’s rich, considering the way you’ve been looking at her for years. And the rest of us have had to sit through it without saying a word.”

Lily peaked from around James, arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips. “To be fair, I think Remus had a bet going on how long it would take for this exact situation to happen.”

Remus smirked at you, looking thoroughly unimpressed but clearly amused. “I did, actually. I’m collecting later.” 

“Remus!” You snapped, turning your mortified glare on him, though Sirius’s arms around your waist kept you rooted firmly in place. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one!”

“Oh, come on,” Remus replied, deadpan. “You’re lucky it wasn’t Peter. He was ready to start taking notes.”

Peter peeked out from behind Remus, his cheeks flushed but a sheepish grin on his face. “I thought it might help with… er, strategy. You know, for later.”

“Later?” Sirius grinned, ever the opportunist. “What, Pete, you planning to steal her away from me?”

“Godric, no!” Peter blurted, his hands shooting up defensively. “I’d never- she’s- you two- no!”

James threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders, laughing. “Relax, Pete. You’re not stepping on Pads’ toes anytime soon.” He turned his gaze back to you and Sirius, his expression softening just enough to let you know he was, despite his theatrics, happy for you. “You’re lucky he’s absolutely gone for you,” James muttered, the barest hint of fondness in his tone. “Otherwise, I might have had to step in.”

Sirius smirked, squeezing your waist with unmistakable pride. “Don’t worry, Prongs. She’s stuck with me now.”

You let out a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You are all insufferable.”

Lily stepped forward, shaking her head with a grin as she took James’s hand. “Come on, James. Let’s leave them alone before Sirius starts waxing poetic.”

“Too late!” Sirius quipped, and before anyone could stop him, he pulled you closer and began reciting dramatically, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day-”

“Pads!” You hissed, trying to stifle a laugh as the others groaned and began filing out, muttering about needing stronger drinks to survive the two of you.  

When the door finally closed behind them, you looked back at Sirius, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re insane.”

Sirius tilted his head, his gray eyes dancing with affection as he grinned down at you. “So, does this mean we’re official now, or do I still need to charm you with my devilish wit and roguish good looks?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you tried to shake off the lingering warmth from his teasing. “Oh, Merlin, don’t push it, Black. I already have James to deal with. I don’t need you adding fuel to the fire.”

Sirius feigned offense, clutching his chest where the bandages wrapped tightly around him. “I’m wounded! You’re only agreeing to this to keep Prongs happy? I thought I was irresistible.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the hallway table. “You? Irresistible? That’s a stretch. I just don’t want to disappoint James- his fragile heart couldn’t take it if I broke yours.”

He stepped closer, closing the small distance between you with that stupid, lopsided grin still plastered on his face. His hands found your waist again, holding you firmly yet gently, like you might slip away if he didn’t. “Admit it, love,” He murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug. “You’d hate to disappoint me, too.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe.” Sirius leaned in, brushing his nose against yours, “Terrible, flea ridden, bug eyed, everything you could possibly think of- it's bloody maddening when all I want is to be yours.”

You sighed, shaking your head but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You are Sirius.”

“Good.” He kissed you again, soft and slow, as though savoring the moment. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping into something quieter, more sincere. “Because I don’t care what anyone else says or bets on. I’ve been yours for a long time, and I’m not letting go.”

Your heart skipped at his words, but you played it off with a scoff, lightly smacking his arm. “You’re such a sap, Black.”

“And you love it,” He teased, his grin wide and carefree as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew you’d already lost the battle you’d been fighting for years. The love you carried for him had consumed you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but him.

And so, you stopped fighting it. For years, you let that love pull you under, let it fill the cracks and scars you thought you’d buried too deep. It became part of you- wild, consuming, unrelenting.

Because in every single universe, a Potter falls for a Black.

And as you were reminded that October, as the leaves fell and the air grew colder, in every single universe, it doesn’t end well.

[p0ckykiss]

who's spiderman - mark lee

summary -> mark lee is your best friend. you would trust him with your life, but you had no idea he was hiding such a big secret until tonight.

warnings -> female!reader x mark, friends to lovers, fluff

you sighed dramatically and flopped back onto the couch, legs draped over those of your best friend. “mark, I hate art.”

mark stopped in his tracks, a nacho chip halfway to his mouth. “but…y/n, you’re majoring in art.”

“i knooow,” you groaned, throwing your head back. “but i have like fifty projects due and not enough time to do them.”

mark grinned, finally crunching on the chip covered in cheese. “i said you should’ve started earlier.”

“psshh…just because you’re already done with all your finals for the semester doesn’t mean you can hold it over me,” you retaliated.

“yes it totally does,” he replied, laughing.

you grumbled under your breath and pulled out your phone in an attempt to ignore him. mark rolled his eyes and smiled, waiting for you to talk again while he continued munching on his nachos. several minutes passed in relative silence, and eventually you found a meme you wanted to show him, so you were forced to suck it up and acknowledge his presence. you shoved your phone in his face and he jumped before reading the post and laughing (as expected).

he spoke when you pulled the device away. “so you finally decided I was right, huh? done procrastinating now?”

“ughhh, i don’t want to though.”

“if nobody did things they didn’t want to do, then nothing would get done.” you stared at him in total confusion and he backtracked. “okay, that made no sense. how about this?” he grabbed your hand and looked you in the eye. “if you start the project for drawing class then i’ll go get us something to eat.”

“bribing me with food? you should be ashamed of yourself, mark.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” mark grinned and moved your legs so he could slide off the couch, grabbing the spare key before leaving the apartment.

much later that night, you were sitting on the same couch looking at your phone before bed. a clatter and then a thud coming from the bedroom raised your concern, and you stood with the intention of finding out what the sudden noise was. on your way to the hallway, you had a moment of common sense and grabbed a pan from the kitchen to potentially defend yourself against an intruder. did i lock my windows? you wondered, not able to remember to save your life.

your heart racing, you swung around the corner into the room. in your shock, you dropped the pan (thankfully, not on your feet) and it clattered to the ground.

there, lying face-up on your bedroom floor, was your best friend mark lee. however, he was entirely clad in a red and blue spandex-like suit from the neck down, and his face appeared to be bleeding. at the sound of the pan hitting the ground, he immediately sat upright and spun around to stare at you, a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.

“you’re – you’re spiderman?!” you asked incredulously, feeling faint suddenly.

“i – i – uh…” mark jumped to his feet before quickly removing his suit. the suit crumpling to the floor and leaving him in only a pair of boxers with stars patterned on them. “why do you ask?” he tried in vain to kick the discarded costume aside and crossed his arms over his bare (and very muscled, you might add) chest awkwardly. “who’s spiderman?” he laughed nervously. “i don’t know him.”

you couldn’t believe he was actually attempting to deny what you had clearly seen with your own eyes just a few seconds ago. also, blood was dripping off his face. you put your hands on your hips. “mark, what the hell. i know you’re a superhero. i just saw you wearing the suit. also, you seem to have crawled in through my window for some reason. and…you are bleeding.”

the reality of his injury seemed to catch up with him and he sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. (you were momentarily distracted by the muscles again…how did you never notice how ripped your best friend was??) “look, I’m sorry. but you can’t tell anyone about this, y/n. the only other person who knows this is donghyuck"

you nodded until you looked up to his face again. “donghyuck knows you're spiderman???! ” you practically yelled.

mark rushed forward and pressed his hand over your mouth, the other arm reaching up to grasp your bicep. “shhh! don’t say it so loud,” he whispered, glancing around.

you rolled your eyes and pushed his hand away so you could speak. “oh, come on, there’s nobody else here. my roommate doesn’t come back until later anyway.” now so close to him, you could more clearly see that he had a jagged cut on the side of his face and a black eye on the opposite side. almost unconsciously, you ran a thumb over his non-bruised cheekbone, and he shivered. “okay, who did this to you, mark?”

his grip tightened and he sighed, closing his eyes. “just some bad guys,” he mumbled. “honestly, it’s nothing. i’ve had worse.”

“hush. we gotta get you cleaned up before that cut gets infected, idiot.” a hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you turned away to go find the first aid materials.

after a few minutes, mark padded into your kitchen, where you had pulled a couple of chairs near the small table and spread out the medical supplies. he had apparently discovered the ancient gray pair of sweatpants he left here a couple months ago, but he remained shirtless. “you, uh, seem to be taking this really well,” he commented, rubbing his arm nervously.

you felt your face flush. “oh, trust me – i’m still in shock, but right now I’m focusing on helping you instead of thinking too hard about everything.” you opened the dark brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide and wet a clean cotton ball with the liquid. “all right…get over here.”

“listen, y/n, you don’t actually have to do this – it’ll heal on its own-”

“not if it gets infected it won’t. now come here.”

he seemed to realize that there was no point in arguing with you and gave in. rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he sat across from you in the chair you placed near your own and leaned forward. you lightly dabbed peroxide over the cut, and he hissed. “ow, that stings.”

“sorry!” you quickly apologized. “i should have warned you.”

he smiled for a quick second before grimacing as you continued. “it’s okay, really. i knew it would hurt. i guess i’m just lucky he didn’t get any closer than he did with that kni-” he stopped mid-sentence, sensing your concern. “um, never mind. you can keep going.”

as you carefully cleaned the wound, applied antibiotic ointment, and bandaged your best friend’s face, you noticed he was staring intently at you every time you happened to make eye contact. you could tell you were blushing while the minutes passed at an agonizing pace.

once the wound was wrapped in a protective bandage, you stood to clear the supplies off the table. mark suddenly leaned forward to hug you before you could step away, and once you got over your momentary shock, you hugged him back. “thank you,” he murmured into your arm. after a millisecond of hesitation, you pressed a feather-light kiss to his ruffled hair.

his arm around you squeezed tighter, almost as if he was afraid to let go. your face grew warmer as you felt his thumb brush your side. a few seconds more passed before you slowly tried to pull back, and he finally let go. before you could move too far away, however, mark grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his mouth, tenderly kissing your knuckles. you were stunned into silence, a certain dreamlike quality to his actions.

“is this okay?” he whispered, clutching your hand in his like he was dying and you were the cure.

“yeah,” you breathed in response.

mark stood suddenly, and your brain picked that particular moment to helpfully remember the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and nearly short-circuit. your breath hitched when he gently cupped your cheek in his hand. you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for his next move.

“is…is it bad if I really want to kiss you right now?” he murmured, meeting your gaze.

you managed to shake your head slowly, mesmerized by his deep chocolate-colored eyes. he stepped closer and you shivered involuntarily, giving your silent consent by closing your eyes as he leaned in.

the pressure of mark's lips against yours was steady, almost asking permission. after half a second, you pushed back and returned the kiss. he released your hand and gently held your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks with the softest touch imaginable. both of your hands were freed to find their way into his chestnut-colored hair and around his neck, holding on to him as if your life depended on it.

“i…love…you,” he spoke in between kisses. you smiled against his lips, and he pulled your body towards his with a surprisingly strong arm. mark kissed you again, long and lingering. when you finally broke apart, mark kissed your cheek before resting his forehead on yours.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to do that,” he admitted, gentle laughter shaking his body.

your mouth split open with a joyful grin. “you dork,” you replied breathlessly. “i love you too.” You closed your eyes again, exhaling shakily. when you opened them, mark had an intense look of adoration in his eyes.

“go out with me?” as soon as the words left his mouth, his brain seemed to catch up, and he pulled away quickly, trying to save himself. “um, uh, i mean…will you-”

you laughed, cutting him off. “yeah, mark. i’ll go on a date with you. even if you didn’t ask me the right way.”

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing in relief. “great, i was worried i messed it up for a second – wait, what do you mean ‘the right way’?”

you giggled at his confusion. “come on, mark. we gotta put these things away and get you out of here before my roommate gets back.”

at your bedroom window, mark couldn’t resist giving you one last kiss before pulling the mask on and swinging away with a wink. you pressed your hands to your blushing face, reflecting on the eventful evening.

falling backwards onto your bed, you smiled wide.

[xoxochb]

idk what this is but enjoy!

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“stop giggling.”

you disobey. “I can’t help it! my socks are so soft and your shirt is so comfortable and you’re warm!”

percy sighs. your bare legs entwine and tangle with his own, your arms draping lazily over his shoulders as his head nestles under your chin.

“you’re killin’ me, sweet girl.” he lifts himself from your chest. you frown at the sudden loss of contact, with this his thumb rubs over your pouting bottom lip. “don’t pout.”

you glare and sit up alongside him, turning to your side with your chin propped up on your palm. your eyes glue to your boyfriend’s pretty face. his godly side shows prominently in the faint setting sunlight through the lace of the curtains. if you didn’t know any better you would say he was fully a greek god. you sigh happily.

percy turns his gaze to you, taking your hand gently into his own and kissing each fingertip before kissing your palm, and lingering his lips over the bottom of your ring finger. your tummy feels fluttery.

he lets your hand go and wraps it back around his shoulder. you let yourself be pulled into his chest, and inhale his ocean scent.

“I’m gonna fall asleep like this, perce.”

“is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

you shrug. the cabin goes silent again. that is, until percy breaks the silence of course.

“don’t sleep yet.”

“well we’re not doing anything, and you’re warm, and it’s silent, and I’m tired.”

he smirks. “I could think of something we could do.”

you regret even opening your mouth. “must you make everything I say into a sex reference?”

“kinda my job.”

“you’re weird!” you pull yourself away from him and sit up again. percy frowns at the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry, come back!”

his hands latch at your waist, attempting to drag you back down but you refrain from allowing him. you remove them from you and throw the blankets off from your legs.

“I won’t make any innuendos ever!”

lie. all lies. huge lie. biggest lie ever.

you roll your eyes playfully and walk to his dresser, finding the drawer he had cleared out special for you. swiftly, you find a pair of your lace panties and slide them up your legs. percy sits up in dramatic shock.

“is this really necessary, sweet girl?”

once slid on, you fix his/your shirt over your torso and lay back underneath the blankets. “punishment.”

“I see… so you’re saying… I’ve been bad and need to be punished?”

you rub your face with both hands, mostly to cover your smile from him. “sometimes I’d be nice if you had an off button.”

“awww, how nice of you, sweet girl. c’mere.”

percy pulls you back down into him. this time, you let him do so. though when his fingers loop around the waistband of your panties you half regret it.

“perseus,” you warn.

“yes, sweet girl?”

“what’re you doing?”

“it’s not fair!” his hand drops to your thigh. “I don’t have any clothes on so why are you dressed?”

“because otherwise I’ll wake up with your drool directly on my skin. this way, it’s on my shirt instead.”

“I won’t drool on you then!”

“you always drool! every single night, which by the way, I am in your bed with you every night, so I of all people would know.”

percy sighs, his hands going underneath your/his shirt. he remains silent. you have won the drool debate yet again. forever, you would win.

[margeoww]

Strong Enough for You

back to my masterlist

pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.

[etheraltides]

Under Summer Skies

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x best friend!Reader

Summary: it was just a casual get together in your best friend’s yacht until it wasn’t anymore.

Warning(s): SMUT – dry humping, oral sex, pinv (wear condom, y’all), a bit of dirt talk. +18 ONLY mdni!

A/N: Grammarly keeps telling me to don’t use dots in the dialogues so who am I to argue?

The sun was setting, casting golden light over the deck of the yacht, and the gentle sway of the boat gave the illusion of an isolated world – just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but endless blue. No worries, no expectations to live to.

Rafe sat on the cushioned bench, his head tilted back, an arm draped lazily over the backrest. He wore nothing but his swim trunks, his skin kissed by the sun from a long afternoon spent on the water. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while you did your best to don’t get distracted by him.

“Are you seriously going to do this?” he asked, his tone playful but teasing as he watched you rummaging through your purse.

You grinned, holding up the pair of tweezers you’d plucked from your bag. “Yes. Your eyebrows are a disaster, Rafe. Someone has to fix them, and I’m your best friend, so I’m taking one for the team.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “I don’t need my eyebrows fixed. They’re fine.”

“They’re uneven” you countered, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder. “Come on, don’t be a baby.”

Rafe groaned dramatically but leaned back, letting his head rest against the back of the bench. “Fine, but don’t mess me up. I don’t want to look like a girl.”

You snorted, settling yourself beside him. “Relax, I’m not going to butcher you. Just sit still.”

You reached for his face, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you angled his head toward you. Rafe’s skin was warm under your touch, his subtle stubble tickling against your fingertips, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse fluttered when his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Okay…” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Stay still.”

You began plucking, your focus narrowing in on the tiny hairs that needed to go. Rafe winced slightly, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach up and bat you away.

“Stop squirming!” you scolded, biting back a smile.

“It hurts.” he complained, his tone petulant as he couldn’t back the smile. It was adorable the way you bit your lips in concentration, the crease between your brows making it just the more adorable.

“Oh, come on. You act like you’re so tough, and you can’t handle a little tweezing?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, his smirk returning. “I’m plenty tough. I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It’s called grooming, Rafe. You should try it sometime.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, and you felt it settle in your chest.

But then he shifted, his hands gripping your hips lightly as he said, “Here. You can’t reach like that. Come here.”

Before you could protest, Rafe tugged you forward, pulling you into his lap in a swift motion.

Your breath caught as you landed on him, straddling his thighs. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip firm but not forceful, and the heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of your bikini. You feared that he could heart you fast beating heart now.

“Better?” he asked, his voice lower now, his blue eyes shining in the golden light.

You tried to keep your composure, to ignore the sudden spark of tension crackling between you, but it was impossible. Rafe’s gaze was locked on yours, his smirk replaced by something softer, something heavier.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands trembled slightly as you raised the tweezers again, but the task suddenly felt monumental with the way Rafe was looking at you. His eyes dipped to your lips, just for a moment, before flicking back up to meet yours.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something else.

“What? Me nervous of you?” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you. “Absolutely not.”

Rafe’s smirk returned, but this time it was slower, more deliberate. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Stay still, Cameron, or I’m going to accidentally pluck half your eyebrow off.”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “I trust you.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than they should have been, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. His hands flexed slightly on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Rafe.” you said softly, your voice faltering.

“What?” he asked, his tone light but his expression serious.

“This is…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“Different?” he offered, tilting his head slightly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your hips.

You nodded, your fingers still resting against his jaw, the tweezers forgotten in your hand.

Rafe’s gaze flicked down to your lips again, lingering this time. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you a fraction closer, and you felt your breath hitch as the space between you disappeared.

“Tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was tentative at first, testing the waters. But Rafe didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

The tweezers slipped from your hand, forgotten as your fingers tangled in his hair. His hands roamed your body, sliding beneath your bikini top to rest on the bare skin, his touch warm and firm.

“Rafe,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him back in. His lips crashed against yours, his kisses growing more desperate, more insistent.

The air between you was electric, charged with a tension that had been simmering for far too long. Every touch, every kiss felt like a spark igniting something deeper, something neither of you could ignore anymore.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer, and you gasped as the movement sent a jolt of heat through your body.

“Tell me this isn’t just me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, his voice rough and edged with vulnerability.

“It’s not just you,” you whispered, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft but sure, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

The sun dipped lower, casting the yacht in golden shadows, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a moment you’d never forget.

Rafe’s kisses grew more desperate, his hands gripping your hips firmly, pulling you flush against him. The tension between you was thick, electric, and you could feel his breath hitch as he shifted beneath you.

Your fingers slid through his hair, tugging gently as his lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, then lower, grazing the curve of your neck. His stubble left a faint scratch against your skin, but the sensation only added to the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Rafe…” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders for support.

“Mm,” he hummed against your neck, the sound low and rough. His hands roamed your waist, sliding up beneath your bikini top, his touch warm and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifted again, and you felt it – the unmistakable press of his arousal beneath you, hard and insistent. Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips, the motion deliberate, sending a spark of heat through your core.

“Rafe—” you started, but the rest of the sentence was lost as he tilted his head back, his hands guiding your hips to match his slow, rhythmic movements.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice strained but soft, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your lips parting as another wave of heat rippled through you. “Yeah,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he rocked his hips again, harder this time.

The friction was intoxicating, every roll of his body against yours sending sparks of pleasure through you. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he guided you, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“God,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly as he buried his face in your neck. “You feel so good.”

You couldn’t respond – could barely think – as his movements grew more insistent, his body pressed so tightly against yours that it felt like there was nothing separating you. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and alight with sensation.

“Rafe!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as he thrust upward again, harder, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and heated, and you could feel the tension in his body building with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, almost desperately, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“Say my name,” he whispered, his voice rough and filled with something raw and needy.

“Rafe,” you breathed, the sound trembling as it left your lips.

He groaned at the sound, his movements faltering slightly before he caught himself, his pace quickening. The sensation, the intimacy, the heat – it was almost too much, and yet it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

“God, you’re perfect.” he murmured, his voice cracking as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

The confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him, your body moving instinctively with his. The world outside the yacht didn’t exist anymore – it was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a haze of heat and longing. Something you have pushed aside for so long in fear of ruining your friendship that it just blew in your faces now.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

With every thrust of his hips, you could feel the fabric of your bikini bottom growing damp, the delicious friction building between your legs. Your breaths grew shorter, your heart racing in time with the rhythm he set, and your body responded to his urgency with a fiery need of its own.

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, pulling back slightly, your eyes searching his. “We shouldn’t do this—it’ll ruin everything.”

He stilled beneath you, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of surprise and hunger. You could see the desire warring with something deeper, something that made your stomach flip. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might agree with your rational words. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

“It won’t ruin us,” he said, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the bare skin of your thighs. “We’re already more than just friends, aren’t we?”

Before you could respond, he hooked his thumbs into the band of your panties and pushed it aside, sliding the fabric just enough to expose the slick heat of your folds. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me show you how good it can be, baby.”

With a gentle nudge, he coaxed you to move, his own hips grinding up to meet yours as you slid down his body, the fabric of his shorts abrading your sensitive skin. His thumbs stroked the damp fabric, tracing the edges of your pussy, and you felt a tremor run through you, your protests dying in your throat as a strangled moan escaped instead.

The ache grew, pulsing with every beat of your heart, demanding more as he teased you, the anticipation driving you wild. You could feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your wetness, and the friction was exquisite, a sweet torment that had you writhing against him.

“Please, Rafe,” you begged, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. The shyness had melted away under the weight of your desire, leaving only a raw, unbridled need. “I need—I need you to—”

He smirked up at you, a knowing glint in his eyes, and leaned back, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. You watched, transfixed, as he pulled out his cock, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. His hand wrapped around it, stroking slow and deliberate, the motion mesmerizing. The sight of him touching himself, the way his muscles tensed and his breathing grew ragged, was more than you could bear.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaned down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. You took the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the heat and velvet smoothness, and he groaned, his hips jerking upward. You took him deeper, letting your tongue dance along the underside as your hand found his length, stroking in time with your mouth. He tasted like salt and man, a heady flavor that made your senses swirl.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the edge of the cushion as you worked him with a passion that surprised even yourself. You’d never felt this wanton before, never been so eager to please, but something about the situation had unlocked something primal within you. You took him deeper still, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the muscles there convulsing around him as you struggled not to gag.

He watched you, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his breaths coming in ragged pants. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. You felt a thrill of power at his words, a sense of control that only made you more eager to serve him.

With a graceful move, you shifted onto all fours beside him on the plush cushion, his cock still in your hand. The cooler air of the yacht’s cabin washed over your heated skin, sending a shiver through you. The position was more comfortable now, and you took full advantage, leaning down to suck him in deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you drew on him. His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you, his hips bucking in time with your movements.

But then he stilled, his eyes dropping to your thighs, where your arousal had started to dribble down. His gaze darkened, and he tugged gently on your hair, urging you to look up.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, breathless, your hand still moving up and down his shaft.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Let me lick your sweet pussy, baby.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you nodded, your breathing shallow. He helped you stand, his eyes never leaving your body, and you could feel his gaze like a physical touch. You stepped out of your bikini bottoms, the fabric falling away to reveal your bare skin, glistening with your desire. You stepped closer to him, standing at the edge of the cushion, and he reached for your thighs, urging you to straddle his face as he laid down.

You hesitated for a moment, but the need was too strong. You positioned yourself over his mouth, his warm breath fanning over your sex. He looked up at you, his eyes smoldering, and you felt your knees tremble slightly. And then his tongue was there, licking a long, slow line up the center of your pussy, from bottom to top. You moaned, the sound echoing through the cabin, and he groaned in response, his hands sliding up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

It was messy and desperate, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping at your clit with a hunger that mirrored your own. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, the sensation adding to the delicious assault on your senses. You could feel the wetness of his mouth, his saliva mingling with your arousal, and the sight of his blonde hair sticking to your thighs was almost too much. He feasted on you, his mouth working against you with a ferocity that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You grabbed the railing above for balance, your body rocking against his face. You felt the orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew with every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth. It was as if he could sense it, his movements becoming more urgent, his grip on your hips tightening as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Rafe, I’m going to come,” you moaned, warning him through gritted teeth. But instead of slowing down, he only redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a knot of sensation coiling tighter and tighter within you.

With a final, desperate moan, you climaxed, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Rafe’s tongue didn’t stop, though, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you were trembling and weak. You collapsed against the railing, your legs shaking, your breath coming in pants.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “That was—”

But your words were cut off as Rafe’s mouth moved away from your pussy, his eyes shining with lust as he sat up, his cock standing tall and demanding. He reached for you, pulling you back down onto his lap so that you were straddling him once again. This time, however, he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Take it slow, baby,” he murmured, his hands guiding yours to his chest, his heart hammering beneath your palms. “Let me in.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, and then, with a gentle rock of your hips, you slid down onto him. He filled you, stretching you in a way that made you gasp, his cock thick and hot and perfect. The sensation was so intense that for a moment, you couldn’t move, could only sit there, feeling him buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Rafe groaned, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples to hard points.

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to rock his hips beneath you, his cock moving in and out in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your insides clenching around him. Each stroke sent a new ripple of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself moving with him, your hips rising and falling to meet his.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the open deck, a testament to the passion that had overtaken you both. The sea breeze danced across your skin, adding a cool contrast to the heat of your bodies.

“Look at me, baby,” Rafe rasped, his voice thick with desire. You opened your eyes to find his gaze locked onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust. You took his words as a command, your hips moving in tandem with his, your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your body to cradle your face. “Take it all. You’re so fucking wet for me. You’re perfect, just like I knew you’d be.”

With a your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you begin to grind in a slow, sensual circle, watching Rafe’s eyes roll back as he loses himself in the tight, slick embrace of your pussy. The feel of him inside you was intoxicating, filling you to the brim and sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each rotation brought a fresh rush of sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots, and you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter with every pass.

His hands slid from your face to your hips, his grip firm as he helped guide your movements, his own hips rising to meet you. The sound of his breath grew ragged, and you knew he was just as lost in the moment as you were. The pressure built again, a delicious ache that had your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper, begging for release.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your voice a desperate whine.

“Shit. Me too, baby,” Rafe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumped his hips up to meet yours. The friction was unbearable, the tension coiling in your stomach, tightening until you thought you might shatter.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both reached the peak, your orgasms crashing over you in a tumultuous wave of pleasure. You cried out, your nails digging into his chest as your body tightened around him, the muscles of your pussy pulsing in a delicious rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he emptied himself inside you, his cock jerking with every drop of his release.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended in time, your bodies locked together in a silent symphony of ecstasy. And then, as the world slowly began to come back into focus, you slumped against him, your head resting on his shoulder, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. His arms tightened around you, holding you close, as if afraid to let go.

“We don’t have to talk about this today,” Rafe murmured against your hair, his voice a soothing balm to the sudden tension that had coiled around your heart.

You nodded, your eyes still squeezed shut, trying to come back from the remnants of your climax. “Okay,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky.

As your breathing began to even out, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you couldn’t hold it in. “What’s so funny?” Rafe asked, his voice still strained from his own release.

You leaned back slightly, looking into his eyes with a small smile playing on your lips. “I still ain’t done trimming your eyebrows though,” you teased, lightly brushing his brow.

[batboysanonymous]

Soft Like Shadows

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has never been good with words, but he never needed them with you. In the quiet hours of the night, when the world is still and his shadows retreat, he finds comfort in the warmth of your touch—the one place where even the most feared spymaster can be soft.

───────────────────────────────

The stars were sharp tonight, cutting through the inky night sky like diamonds scattered across velvet. The wind, crisp and biting, swept through Velaris, rustling the sheer curtains of the open balcony doors. But inside, wrapped in the thick warmth of blankets and Azriel’s embrace, you couldn’t feel a thing except the steady heat of his body pressed to yours.

The bedroom was cast in soft light from the fireplace, its golden flicker dancing along the dark walls, illuminating the faint glimmer of his blue siphons. They pulsed faintly in the dimness, their glow mirroring the steady beat of his heart—calm, steady, unhurried.

Azriel lay beside you, his broad frame relaxed in a way it rarely was, one wing draped partially over you, as if to shield you even in sleep. You weren’t sure when this had started, this quiet need he had to keep you tucked under his wings, but you never complained. How could you, when it made you feel so undeniably his?

You shifted slightly, reaching up to run your fingers along his forearm, tracing the fine scars that marked his skin. Your touch was featherlight, reverent. Azriel hummed low in his throat, the sound more vibration than voice, as he nuzzled closer.

And then—he bumped his forehead against yours.

It was so soft, so gentle, that for a moment, you thought you imagined it. But then he did it again, a light press, as if requesting something without words.

A smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, baby?” you murmured, tilting your head just enough to meet his hazel eyes.

Azriel muttered something under his breath, the words too soft to catch.

You huffed a quiet laugh, trailing your fingers up his arm and into the thick waves of his hair. “Use your words, big guy.”

A slow roll of his eyes—dramatic, almost teasing. “Don’t make me say it,” he muttered against your cheek, voice laced with that familiar rasp.

Your grin widened. “C’mon, Shadowsinger. Say it.”

Azriel exhaled through his nose, as if put upon by your antics, but the ghost of a smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your nose before whispering, “Can you play with my hair, please?”

The softness in his voice, the way he said it like a secret meant only for you, had warmth blooming in your chest.

You tapped your chin in exaggerated thought. “Hmm…”

A shadow slithered up your arm, a teasing nudge. Then, before you could react, Azriel poked your side, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

“Y/N.”

“Alright, alright,” you relented, laughing as you shifted slightly so he could fully settle against you.

The moment your fingers found his hair, Azriel sighed—a deep, bone-melting sound, like he had been waiting for this all day. His body relaxed instantly, his weight pressing more firmly against you as his head rested against your chest.

Your nails scraped lightly against his scalp, the touch lazy and soothing. His breath hitched for a moment before he melted, a low hum slipping from his lips.

“This is your weakness, isn’t it?” you teased, dragging your fingers through the silky strands, watching the way his lashes fluttered against his sharp cheekbones.

Azriel mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like you’re my weakness, but when you tried to lift his head to look at him properly, he just buried his face further into your neck.

Your heart clenched.

No one ever saw him like this. No one ever got to see the way he melted under gentle hands, the way his entire being sighed in relief when he was held like this, cherished like this. The feared spymaster, the shadowsinger, reduced to a content, sleepy puddle in your arms.

“Can you just read my mind next time?” he murmured against your collarbone.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “I could. But then I’d miss out on watching you beg for it.”

Azriel huffed, but the arms wrapped around your waist tightened, his grip firm and secure, like he never wanted to let go.

You traced slow patterns across his bare back, following the contours of his muscles, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. He was solid beneath your touch, strong and unyielding, but here, in your arms, he was soft.

“I don’t think I ever let myself imagine this,” Azriel said after a long moment, voice quiet, almost unsure.

You frowned, pausing your ministrations. “Imagine what?”

His breath fanned against your throat. “This. You. Us.” His fingers traced lazy circles against your hip. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this.”

Your heart cracked. “Az…”

His arms tightened around you, as if he could physically stop the sadness from seeping between you. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, curling your fingers into his hair again, tugging just enough to make him lift his head. When his hazel eyes met yours, you cupped his face between your palms, your thumbs brushing lightly over the sharp planes of his cheekbones.

“You deserve this,” you told him, firm and unwavering. “You deserve love, and softness, and a place to rest.” You ran a hand down his cheek, watching the way his expression softened, the way he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. “And you’ll always have that with me.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something raw, something so deep it nearly stole your breath.

Azriel didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he kissed you.

His lips moved against yours in a way that made the world blur around you, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head, holding you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever known.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart swelled, full and aching. You brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, smiling softly. “I love you more.”

Azriel made a soft sound, something close to a scoff, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shifted, pulling you even closer until you were practically tangled together, his head tucked beneath your chin, his wings curling around you protectively.

His shadows, usually restless and ever-present, were still.

And in that quiet, in the warm cocoon of blankets and whispered affections, you let yourself drift, your fingers still tangled in his hair, his breath steady against your skin.

Because here, in the safety of your arms, Azriel could finally rest.

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Taglist: @kathren1sky_blog, @willowpains

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[tokkiwrites]

summary: You're caught off guard when Wade calls you 'puppy'. He's even more shocked when he realizes how much it actually affects you in all the right ways. tags: pwp, established relationships, afab reader, pet play themes, degradation, dry humping, choking, cum eating, masturbaton (m receiving). /ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! my first deadpool fanfic yay!!! its kind of short, only 1.8k words but i hope you enjoy this nonetheless. not betad!

The soft glow of the TV flickers across the living room, casting shadows on the walls as you curl up next to Wade on the couch. The evening is unusually quiet, a break from the chaos that follows him around like a storm, something you'd gotten used to. His arm is draped gently over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing making you feel safe, even when you know that quiet never lasts long with Wade. he keeps you safeㅡ you just wish he'd keep himself too.

Wade was flipping through channels with a practiced boredom, sighing dramatically every few seconds. “How is there nothing on TV? Hundreds of channels, and I still can’t find anything to keep my superior intellect entertained.”

You roll your eyes, leaning over to steal a piece of popcorn from his bowl. “Maybe because you’ve seen every movie that involves crazy inhuman acts at least ten times.”

“Or,” he says, pointing at you with mock seriousness, “they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. I mean, where’s the drama? The art? The—” He pauses, turning to look at you with a grin. “I’m just kidding. I’m way too distracted by your cute face to care about movies right now.” and you can't help but blush. it felt stupid, but he made you feel like you were a teenager in love all over again.

Wade shifts beside you, stretching his legs across the coffee table with a satisfied groan. “Ah, domestic bliss. You, me, questionable snacks, and the delightful sound of my own voice,” he says, breaking the silence. “Does it get any better than this? No bullets, no explosions… I’m practically a whole new Wade.”

You smile, leaning into his shoulder, the smell of his cologne and a faint trace of gunpowder still clinging to him. “You sure you’re okay with a quiet night in? I mean, I know you’ve got that... thing where you need constant action.”

“I am fully committed to this lifestyle,” Wade declares, patting your leg as if sealing the deal. “I’ve already planned out our entire evening: sit, snuggle, snack, snarky commentary, and then maybe I serenade you with my totally above-average karaoke skills. You’ll swoon, I’ll catch you, and we’ll live happily ever after. It’s like a Hallmark movie, but with better one-liners.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at his antics. “Swooning’s a big maybe. And since when do you plan things?”

“Since I started dating a woman who demands excellence,” he says, giving you a dramatic, exaggerated wink. “I’m a changed man, baby. No more flying by the seat of my pants… unless those pants are on fire. Which, you know, happens more often than you’d think.”

"Let's just watch the movie, Wade." You whisper softly whilst planting a gentle peck on his lips.

A few minutes later, the credits of some random action movie roll on the screen, and you stretch, deciding to get up and grab a drink from the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

Wade leans back into the cushions, folding his arms behind his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, puppy.”

You freeze mid-step, your hand gripping the edge of the counter, the word clinging to you like a spell. puppy? Your heart skips a beat, and you can feel the warmth creeping up your neck to your cheeks. The way it rolled off his tongue, like he didn’t even realize he’d said it, but it hits you harder than you’d like to admit, making your core burn up in an instant.

Turning around slowly, you glance at him, but Wade is staring at the TV, completely unfazed, as if calling you ‘puppy’ is the most normal thing in the world. “what did you just call me?” you ask, your voice coming out quieter than you intended, the heat washes over you.

Wade raises an eyebrow, turning to you with a smirk. “Huh? Oh, puppy? Yeah. What, you don’t like it?” He stretches his legs out a bit more, clearly enjoying the fact that he’s caught you off guard. You feel your face get even warmer, and you stammer, “I—I didn’t say that. It’s just… I didn’tㅡ” you stumble and get tangled in your own words.

His smirk grows, and he tilts his head as if he’s just made the most fascinating discovery. “Oh,” he says, drawing out the word. "you don’t mind it, huh, puppy?" Your stomach flips at the way he says it again, with just enough teasing in his tone to send your nerves into overdrive. You quickly busy yourself with grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, hoping he won’t notice how flustered you’ve gotten.

But Wade is Wade, and of course, he notices. He’s grinning now, watching you with amused eyes as you awkwardly sip from your glass. It's like he can smell it on you. “You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, you know that?” he adds, still teasing. “Should I call you ‘puppy’ more often?”

You shake your head, trying to will away the blush on your cheeks, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “No… I mean, maybe. I don’t knowㅡ I'm sorry, it's weird." he laughs, sitting up and pulling you back down onto the couch beside him. “Too late." he chirps, voice dropping down an octave.

You bury your face in your hands, trying your best to ignore the growing wetness in your panties. "Maybe I'll get you one of those cute collars, with a bell...make you crawl on all fours around the house, hm?" you let out a shaky breath, mumbling a soft 'Wade' as his hands snake around you and up your back, his rugged palm finally in your hair. "You'd want that, huh? be my good little puppy." the ringing in your ears picks up, heart running wildly in your chest as a hursh tug of you locks pulls you off of wade. "Show me."

"Whㅡ?"

"Show me you're a good pet, baby. Show me you deserve to have me as an owner." oh, and how your pussy flutters at his words, eyes wider than before, pupils fully blown out and lips puffy from how much you've bitten them. "You wanna make me proud, right?" you let yourself play his little dirty game, arousal coating your very being. "Y-Yes?"

"Yeah? Get down. On your knees, c'mon." You quickly obliged, not wanting to waste any more moments. the way his eyes scanned you, top to bottom as you kneeled in front of him, as if waiting for a treatㅡ it drove him mad.

"I want you to hump my leg." you choke a bit on your own breath. "Wade whatㅡ?" but he quickly shuts you up with a gentle slap to the mouth with the back of his hand. "Do dogs talk? I don't think so...They take orders and do as they're told." you gulp the knot in your throat, wades dark voice making each hair stand up on your body. something about this was so exciting, so new.

you hesitate at first, but with a few breaths in you scoot yourself over so that your clothed cunt is now directly on top of his foot, the sudden pressure on your swollen bud making you whimper. wade can't help but smile seeing you like this. his hand reaches out to the other end of the couch where a leather belt laid for the past few days. in a few moves the accessory is wrapped snug around your throat, with wade holding one end of it.

"Look so pretty like this, puppy. Go on now." he motions you to move. you slowly start rocking your hips, your knees already aching from the rough carpet underneath you, but the pain hurt so good mixed with the friction and heat from your underwear. the belt tightened as wade pulled on it, earning a soft gasp from you. "Faster, show me you want it."

and show you do. in a few second your speed picks up, breasts bouncing as you chase your high. your eyes are teary, vision blurry and mouth wide open as you gasp for air. the belt was digging into your skin, you knew you'd be bruised for the next few days, but you didn't care. "Open your mouth, pup." You're quick to obey, and the moment your lips part wade leans in closer only to spit right onto your lulled out tongue. "Swallow." he's stern and rough with his words and actions, leaning back as he watches you fuck yourself onto his leg. he enjoyed seeing you like this, nothing behind your eyes, just the thought of pleasing him. "You look so dumb right now, baby." he laughs, tugging harder at the belt. "I thought i needed to get you cockdrunkㅡ turns out i don't even need to give you any dick. there's literally nothing else in that small puppy brain of yours, huh?"

you whine and whimper as you feel your orgasm near, wades words only amplifying that feeling. you couldn’t even form a sentence. you didn’t even try. it felt perfect like this, at his feet. "Keep your tongue out." he commands, as he reaches his hand into the boxer shorts he was wearing and pulling out his erect shaft. the tip was leaking, and you swear it was harder than you've ever seen before. wades hand wraps tightly around the base of it, and gives it a few pumps as he watches you continuously rub yourself onto him. "Poor pussy, baby. probably so needy for this cock, hm?" you mumble a few incoherent 'yes's, fingers gripping tightly at his thighs. "Want me to come on you, pup? make you clean it up after, lick it all up like the good doggy you areㅡ shit." you were so close, you could barely hold your head up anymore.

"Fuckㅡ that's right, pup, earn it. Earn my come." he groans, stroking himself, veins pulsing, hips bucking up into his hand. your moans fill the room, the fuzzy feeling in your brain getting harder to overcome. thats when you feel it ripping through you, that familiar feeling that was pulled in your core now erupting like a million fireworks. your eyes roll back as you mindlessly keep moving your body. you hear wade mutter a harsh 'fuck' before you feel warm drops fall onto your tongue, face and chest, then trickle down. you try your best to swallow whatever you can as you both sit like that, breathless for a few second.

"And I thought I had weird kinksㅡ"

"Wade!"

[starksweasley]

Couch Wars // Rhysand x Reader

Summary: In which a petty argument leads to Rhysand proving just how impossible he can be (Fluff)

Word Count: 710

The bedroom felt too quiet without him. The argument had been stupid—a silly spat over who forgot to wash the training leathers—but both of you had let it spiral. Rhysand, with his calm, infuriating smirk, and you, with your dramatic flair. Neither of you would back down. So, here you were, dragging a blanket off the bed and storming into the living room like a martyr.

The couch wasn’t even comfortable. You huffed as you threw the blanket down, trying to convince yourself you didn’t care. As you curled up, staring at the dim light filtering in from the balcony, you heard footsteps behind you.

“What are you doing?” Rhysand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and curious. You didn’t turn to face him.

“I’m sleeping here tonight,” you declared, voice clipped.

He walked closer, his silhouette casting a shadow over you. “On the couch?”

“Yes, on the couch. Away from you.”

Rhys crouched beside you, his violet eyes catching the faint light. He tilted his head, studying you like you were the most perplexing puzzle he’d ever encountered. “Darling, this is ridiculous.”

You huffed, clutching the blanket tighter. “Well, I don’t want to sleep next to someone who refuses to admit they’re wrong.”

His lips twitched. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Go away, Rhysand.”

Instead of leaving, he sank onto the couch beside you, one arm draping over your waist. He pulled you close with maddening ease, his scent—night-chilled wind and cedar—washing over you.

“Let go,” you muttered, squirming out of his grip. You flopped onto the other end of the couch, making your displeasure obvious.

Rhysand sighed exaggeratedly, the sound so theatrical it might have earned a laugh if you weren’t so irritated. “If this is how you want to play it, fine.” In one swift motion, he stood, grabbed you, and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Rhysand!” you shrieked, pounding on his back. Your laughter betrayed your indignation. “Put me down!”

“No can do,” he said, striding toward the bedroom. “This is for your own good.”

“You’re insufferable!”

“And you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

You’d barely managed to argue before he reached the bed. Rhysand tossed you onto the mattress with an unceremonious plop, climbing over you before you could escape. He pinned your wrists above your head, his weight caging you in.

“Let me go,” you pouted, your bottom lip jutting out dramatically, eyes narrowing into a glare that might’ve been intimidating… if he didn’t find it so endearing.

His grin was devastating. “Not until you admit you’re being a brat.”

Your glare could have cut glass. “Not until you say you’re sorry.”

Rhysand’s gaze softened, though amusement still danced in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your cheek, his voice dropping to that intoxicating murmur. “Sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry, darling. For whatever grievous crime I’ve committed.”

You hesitated, your stubbornness warring with the warmth blooming in your chest. Finally, you sighed. “I’m sorry too.”

A grin split his face, one so radiant it made your chest ache. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You scowled, but your lips twitched upward despite your best efforts. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, each touch lingering and soft. When he pulled back, his expression was unbearably smug. “Now, no more couch dramatics. Agreed?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to fight you anymore.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my love.”

As he settled beside you, his arms pulling you close, you realized the fight didn’t matter. Not when the night ended like this—his warmth surrounding you, his steady heartbeat under your ear, a constant reminder of everything you shared. The silence stretched, comfortable and soothing now, until you finally murmured, “I’m still mad about the leathers.”

Rhysand chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Noted. I’ll make sure they’re spotless tomorrow. Anything else, my high-maintenance darling?”

“Just one thing,” you muttered, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Next time, I’m throwing you onto the couch.”

“Bold words,” he teased, pressing another kiss to your hair. “But we’ll see about that.”

[scarletwinterxx]

i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario

soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.

Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.

When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.

"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."

He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."

"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"

He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"

He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"

"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"

The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.

At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."

He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.

"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move

"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."

"That’s what you said before!"

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.

"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.

"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.

He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.

"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.

Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.

You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.

"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.

He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."

"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.

When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.

"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you

"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.

As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."

"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.

Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."

He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.

Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.

Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.

The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.

“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”

He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”

Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”

That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”

You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”

“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.

It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.

“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.

“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”

Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.

The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”

Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*

Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”

As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”

And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.

Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.

“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”

You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”

“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.

His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.

You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.

“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”

The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”

You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.

He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.

And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.

You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.

You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”

For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.

His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.

And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.

[caitified]

Ok so cute story idea. Caitlin and reader have been dating for a while but reader is just really cuddly like she’s just loves hugging and cuddling with Caitlin any chance she gets she basically a sloth. Caitlin just finds it so funny but absolutely loves it

SLOTH MODE

CAITLIN CLARK X READER

warnings: none. so so so sorry for my absence, i’ve appreciated all of your messages and requests in the meantime. good to be back!

the sound of caitlin’s keys turning in the lock pulled you from your half-asleep state on the couch. you’d been lying there for what felt like hours, waiting for her to come home. when the door finally opened, you sat up a little, rubbing your eyes.

there she was, looking tired but still effortlessly gorgeous. her gym bag hung over one shoulder, and her hair was damp from a quick shower at practice. the faint smell of her shampoo filled the air as she stepped inside, and a soft smile spread across her face when she saw you.

“hey,” she said, her voice warm despite her exhaustion.

you didn’t reply, instead pushing the blanket off and shuffling over to her. as soon as you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around her waist and buried your face in her chest, sighing deeply.

caitlin let out a quiet laugh, dropping her bag by the door so she could hug you properly. “not even a hello? just straight to clinging?”

“hello,” you mumbled into her hoodie, not moving an inch.

“missed me, huh?” she teased, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head.

“obviously,” you muttered, your voice muffled against the soft fabric. “you’ve been gone all day.”

“it’s been, like, seven hours,” she pointed out, though there was no bite to her tone.

“that’s too long,” you said simply, squeezing her a little tighter.

she rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face gave her away. “you’re something else.”

after a moment, she gently pried you off her so she could take off her shoes and jacket, but as soon as she sat down on the couch, you were there again, settling against her side and looping an arm around her waist. she didn’t protest, just chuckled quietly and adjusted so you could get comfortable.

“you’re so clingy,” she said, though her hand found its way to your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“you’re comfy,” you replied without hesitation, resting your head against her.

“i think you just like making sure i can’t move,” she joked, smirking down at you.

you tilted your head up to look at her, a small grin on your face. “maybe.”

she shook her head, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. “you’re like a sloth, you know? slow-moving and impossible to shake off.”

“a cute sloth,” you corrected, closing your eyes as you sank into her touch.

“the cutest,” she agreed softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

for a while, neither of you said anything. the tv played quietly in the background, but you weren’t paying attention. caitlin’s arm draped over your shoulders, and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing made it hard to stay awake.

“you’re gonna fall asleep on me again, aren’t you?” she asked after a few minutes, glancing down at your half-lidded eyes.

“probably,” you murmured, smiling faintly.

she laughed quietly, her hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face. “good thing i don’t mind.”

you hummed in agreement, letting yourself relax completely against her.

as much as caitlin teased you about your constant need for affection, you knew she loved it. she’d never say it outright, but the way her arm stayed firmly around you, the way her fingers ran through your hair without hesitation, told you everything you needed to know.

you’d always been this way—cuddly, affectionate, maybe a little clingy—and caitlin had never once made you feel bad about it. if anything, she seemed to secretly enjoy being the center of your attention, even if she rolled her eyes at your dramatics sometimes.

“you know,” she said after a while, her voice soft, “i think i’d miss this if you ever stopped.”

you opened one eye to look at her, a small smile tugging at your lips. “guess i’ll never stop, then.”

“good,” she said, her lips curving into a smile as she rested her head against yours.

and just like that, the exhaustion from her long day melted away. sure, you were clingy, but you were hers. and she wouldn’t change a thing.

[impishjesters]

Quiet morning together - Jax x Reader

CW(s): suggestive talk, indirect implications towards the two of you being nude but left up to your decision, same goes for any hanky panky the night before, soft fluff A/N: I want to write so many things after these latest episodes but nothing has sparked in my mind and I'm sad... so have this random soft moment together that I've forced myself to write to try and get the creative juices flowing. (I haven't written in so long, I'm so rusty...)

Neither of you has ever been a morning person but unlike a certain someone. You can push through it and get yourself out of bed in a timely fashion.

Except today.

Today is one of those days… Jax’s arms wrapped snugly around you, barely giving you an ounce of space to yourself as his long leg is draped over yours, keeping you trapped in bed. The soft fur from his face tickled your neck as he nuzzled closer, burying his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. One of his ears flopped over your face like an eye mask.

You don’t have the energy to say anything, nor do you make any attempts to move even if your arm is falling asleep under his lithe form laying on it. This scene has happened enough times for you to know that Jax is awake and doing this on purpose to keep you in bed with him—luckily for him, you have nowhere to be today and no rush to get out of bed.

Despite the tingling in your arm that he’s lying on, you raise your hand far enough to brush your fingers over the nape of his neck. The warmth of his soft fur radiating against your fingertips, it’s something you still don’t understand but you’ve learned not to question it by this point.

A quiet purr makes its way out of Jax as you run your fingers through his fur, your fingers knowing just where to scratch to relax him. And of course, in good Jax fashion, he can’t let you get the one up on him. Jax tightens his hold around your body, pulling you impossibly close like he’s trying to fuse the two of you, and presses the weight of his body halfway onto you.

You let out a quiet grunt at his weight and tangled your fingers in the fur of his nape, giving a brief tug. “Jax…” There’s no venom to your words if anything, his name is just a sigh on your lips and Jax greedily soaks up his name from your mouth.

Jax mumbles your name in response, a soft breathy yawn leaving him right after as he affectionately nuzzles his forehead close to your ear. The leg draped over yours shifts, his calf and ankle hooking around your legs to pull them closer and tangle between his legs.

“How long do you plan on keeping us in bed, cottontail?” You can feel where Jax’s nose would be scrunched up against your skin. Despite his protests of the nickname you can’t help but feel he’s come to like it—at least from you.

The lithe rabbit man lets out a pathetic, dramatic whine right into your ear before responding. “C’mon… who cares if we waste the whole day here? Oh right,” he pauses and feigns a panicked tone. “We’ll miss work! Can’t have a cut in our paycheck, how will we ever survive?!”

Even if he can’t see it, you roll your eyes and pinch his ear. A soft yelp leaves him as he brushes your hand away from his ear and finally looks at you with his usual shit-eating grin. “Oh, right. We don’t need that here.”

His tone is soft and playful, but you can hear the underlying sadness in his voice. You reach up with your free hand and pet the fur on his face in different directions, letting you see his full, unobstructed face—shit-eating grin and all.

Jax lets out a soft hum, accompanied by a faint purr as you brush his fur in place. “Look at that, personal grooming and I didn’t even have to request it.”

His tone was smug as you finished grooming his face, your hand lingered on his cheek as a grin made its way to your lips. “You know most animals only let others that they are close to or trust a lot to groom them.” Jax goes stiff in your hold, refusing you meet your eyes. “So it’s good to know this little bunny trusts me so much to groom him.”

He lets out a soft snort and shoves his face into your chest, rubbing his face left and right as you laugh, chest rising and falling as he tries to undo all your hard work.

“Hey! Now I have to do that all over again, brat.”

You push his head away and manage to slip your arm out from under him, using both hands to keep his head still as you redo all of that hard work brushing his fur neatly.

“Oh, boo hoo.” He says sarcastically, though this time he doesn’t try to stop or impede on your mission of fixing his fur.

At some point the two of you shifted, your hands brushing through the fur of his face to working on the rest of his head and down to his neck and upper chest, taking care of any miraculous tangles that formed through the night. Jax now lies on his side, head propped up with his hand as he stares at you focusing so intently on the fur of his chest. Several dirty jokes bounced around his head but he kept his mouth shut—for once—and simply relaxed under your touch.

Your legs were still tangled with his as you moved alongside him to lay on your side, the blanket slipping down to your hips as you worked. His hand eventually found a home on your hip, keeping the blanket from slipping further but also keeping you in place close to him.

“Any lower and that’s gonna be a whole new “waking up”, toots.”

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s got that smug grin on his face and give the fur on his chest a sudden sharp tug. He hisses and reaches a hand up to pull yours from his chest and holds it. “Ouch, not so rough in the morning.”

“That’s not what you’ve said before.” You grumble softly, already tired of his shenanigans and the two of you haven’t even gotten out of bed.

Jax lets out a musical hum in response as he pulls the two of you closer and guides your head to his rest on his chest. “Touché.”

The two of you lay like that for god knows how long, simply basking in the artificial warmth of one another, your head slowly bobbing against his chest with every unnecessary breath.

[happilyhertale]

Advent Desires – Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You are spending the evening with your friend Aemond. But you are bored while Aemond is absorbed in his book – but you have your ways of getting his attention.

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.4k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

The winter evening settles over the city like a soft blanket, muffling the sounds of distant traffic and the occasional hum of wind against the window. Advent candles flicker on the side table, their tiny flames dancing with every shift in the air. Holly leaves are scattered around the room, a festive touch you had insisted on despite Aemond's indifference to holiday decorations.

He sits in the armchair by the window, an oversized wool sweater draped over his sharp frame. A well-worn book rests in his hands, his long fingers absently turning a page as his good eye scans the text. The glow from the nearby string of fairy lights cast soft shadows across his chiseled features, highlighting his sharp jawline and the silver strands of his cropped hair that fell just slightly out of place.

You lie sprawled on the couch, a blanket over your legs, flipping aimlessly through your phone. TikToks and Instagram stories can't hold your attention tonight, and every now and then, you glance over at Aemond, hoping he’d notice you.

He doesn‘t.

"You know," you say, breaking the silence, "it’s not very festive of you to spend Advent reading an old book."

Without looking up, he replies, "It’s not very festive of you to complain about it."

You sigh dramatically, stretching your arms over your head. The hem of your sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin that catches his attention, even if he tries to pretend it doesn’t. His eye flickers up for the briefest moment before returning to the page.

"I’m bored," you groan, rolling onto your side to face him.

"Then entertain yourself," Aemond says, though there is a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sliding off the couch, you pad across the room, stopping just behind his chair. Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin on his head, breathing in the faint scent of cedarwood and the crispness of the cold that still lingers on him from earlier.

"What are you even reading?" you ask, glancing down at the page.

He tilts the book slightly so you can see the title. The Art of War.

"Seriously?" you ask, incredulous. "That’s what you choose to read during the holidays?"

"Why not?" He closes the book deliberately, setting it down on the armrest. His hands are free now, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t pushed him quite so far. There is a glint in his eye—mischievous, calculating.

"I can think of better ways to spend an evening," you say, straightening up, but before you can move away, Aemond catches your wrist.

"Better ways, hmm?" His voice is low, smooth, and edged with amusement.

His grip is firm but not rough as he tugs you down into his lap. The movement catches you off guard, and you gasp softly, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance. His smile widens slightly at your reaction, the kind of smile that is more about power than warmth.

"You’re awfully restless tonight," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger, tracing a line down to your jaw.

"Maybe I’m just trying to get your attention," you murmur.

"Well, now you have it."

Before you know it, his hand is in your hair, his long fingers interweaving the strands. He tugs gently, just enough to tilt your head back and expose your neck. A spark of heat flares through you, your breath catching as you meet his intense gaze.

"Aemond," you whisper, unsure if it is a warning or a plea.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks. "Still bored?"

The holly leaves on the mantle catches your eye for a brief moment, a festive witness to the sudden shift in the room's energy. The teasing pull of his hand in your hair sends a shiver down your spine, and when his lips ghosted over your jawline, you can't hold back the quiet sigh that escapes you.

The advent candles flicker again, their light throwing soft shadows on the wall. Outside, the wind howles faintly, but in this moment, all you can hear is the sound of his breath mingling with yours as the tension between you grew thicker.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you properly. "Satisfied now, or shall I keep going?"

Your reply is a mix of laughter and a daring smirk, your fingers tightening slightly on his sweater. "What do you think?"

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, as his hand tangles deeper into your hair. "I think," he says, his lips brushing yours, "you’d better be careful what you wish for."

You giggle as he leans in again and kisses you. But your giggling dies away as the kiss becomes more passionate. His hands slide to your hips and reposition you until you straddle him. You gasp slightly, your hands slide into his soft hair, pulling gently, drawing a growl from him.

Slowly, he pushes you closer to him, and his hands slide over your ass, guiding your movements. You feel his length pressing against you, only the fabric of his and your sweatpants separating you... but still you feel his cock twitching impatiently. Aemond starts to pull on your sweatpants, “Let's get these out of the way,” he mutters, and you nod eagerly.

You help him, and without much delay, your sweatpants are on the floor. You whimper as Aemond pulls down your sweatpants enough to release his erection. He pumps a few times and you watch his hand slide up and down his twitching length.

“Look how hard you make me... and I just wanted to read a book in peace,“ he mutters, and you bite your lip.

”Somehow I'm not sorry for it,” you whisper a little breathlessly and start grinding your pussy against him.

He growls as he feels how soaked your panties already are.

Your hands slide to the back of his neck as you whimper impatiently again. Aemond pushes your panties aside and lets his fingers slide through your wet slit until he reaches your nerve bundle and leaves circular movements. You moan and move your hips against his fingers.

You move your hips up and down, taking him deeper inside you, and you whimper. His thumb is still rubbing your clit as your hips slam against his. You completely soak his length, your juices dripping onto his balls.

He slides his cock against your opening while continuing to rub your clitoris. Slowly, he pushes upwards, again and again against your opening. Teasing you until the tip of his cock is covered with your juices.

“Gods, you're so wet,” he murmurs a little breathlessly.

“Aemond,” you gasp impatiently, your fingers digging into his neck. And then Aemond thrusts up, feeling your tightness giving way to his length.

He growls, “Fuck,“ as you push your hips down. You moan, your pussy fluttering around his cock, protesting the intrusion.

He leans in and kisses you roughly, while you slide your hand back into his hair, touch the softness and pull on it again. He groans and pulls away from your lips, pressing his face into the curve of your neck and biting you. You cry out as you feel the light sting.

You lean your forehead against his, your panting breaths mixing as he thrusts up, following your movements.

He feels your pussy start to clenches uncontrollably around his length and he grunts, starting to move faster, thrusting deep into you.

Your legs remain wrapped around his hips as you try to take him deeper. Aemond's teeth dig in deeper and you throw your head back and moan without a care in the world. His hips thrust against you, without mercy. Your slick coats his cock, dripping down his tight balls – it was fucking perfect.

“Cum on my cock, babe,” he growls against your skin, and you whimper, slamming your hips down over and over again, while his thumb rubs faster. Your eyes roll back as you come. You scream slightly and Aemond growls as your pussy clenches. Your orgasm triggers his and he covers your clenching walls in white.

Aemond's eye close and his head falls back, your hips still moving up and down, milking his cock. He breathes heavily, just enjoying your movements, until you slowly stop moving.

You lean forward, your face pressed into the hollow of his neck, trying to catch your breath. You smell his scent and kiss his skin gently. His hands glide over your back, caressing you.

“Maybe this was better than reading a book,” he whispers a little breathlessly, and you giggle.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗗 lando norris x  fem! reader (angst) fic summary . . . after your boyfriend dumps you at a club, Lando picks up the pieces, bringing you home and holding you through the night (549 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

Lando wasn’t supposed to be here. Well, not here here, in the way that made his heart beat a little too fast and his chest ache like he’d run a marathon without warming up. But when your blurry call came through—half-laughing, half-slurring about how your boyfriend ditched you at the club—there wasn’t even a second of hesitation.

Because Lando was the one who stayed.

The apartment door clicked softly behind you both as he carried you inside, your arm lazily slung around his neck, head drooping against his shoulder.

“Landooo,” you mumbled, breath warm against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. “You’re my favorite person, y’know that?”

He chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Yeah, I know. He wished it was enough.

Getting you cleaned up felt like muscle memory by now. He grabbed a soft towel, dampened it, and gently wiped off the smudged makeup from your face. Your eyes fluttered open halfway, hazy but trusting, like you knew you were safe with him. You always were.

“Arms up,” he whispered, helping you out of your clubbing top and into one of his oversized hoodies—your favorite hoodie, the one you always stole when you were over. It swallowed you whole, and God, he wished he could tuck you away somewhere safe like that, where no one could ever hurt you again.

Once you were dressed, he tucked you into his bed, but you grabbed his wrist before he could move away.

“Stay?”

That one word, soft and vulnerable, unraveled him.

So he did.

He climbed into bed beside you, and without missing a beat, you curled into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your head found its place on his chest, arm draped lazily over his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, breathing in the scent of your hair mixed with the faint trace of your perfume.

This—this—was everything he wanted and nothing he could have.

His heart thudded, steady and slow, but every beat echoed with the words he couldn’t say. He wanted to tell you that you deserved better, someone who wouldn’t leave you stranded in a crowded club like you didn’t matter. He wanted to tell you that he saw you, all of you—the way your nose crinkled when you laughed, how you bit your lip when you were deep in thought, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved.

But he didn’t.

Because you needed time. You deserved space to heal, to figure out what you wanted. It wasn’t about him, not now. Maybe not ever.

So he just held you tighter, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

Your breathing slowed, soft and even against his chest, but Lando stayed wide awake, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers he was too afraid to ask.

What if she never feels the same? What if this is all I’ll ever be?

But even as those thoughts swirled in his mind, he knew one thing for sure—he’d rather be your safe place than risk losing you altogether. So he’d wait. For as long as it took.

Because sometimes, love wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic confessions. Sometimes, it was just about being the one who stayed.