#i haven't calmed down about this at all by the way like not ONE second

[dawnoftime22]

tent.

| T.S

INTHAF series, Chapter 1

Warnings: None!

Summary: With the thought of being away from Taylor for such a long time, you finally decided to call her up, and with the idea of spending your time in a recently built tent — inside your house…

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: so...who could write a short series on a song that barely has lines? me. yes. don't expect much, but this is all FLUFF <333 enjoy!!!

P.S, this is a series that was originally from 2023 but never got worked on :] i won't mind if anyone will like it or not, I'm just really proud of it and actually finishing it, but love you all, hope you enjoy anyways<3

| Started on 26/11/2023, 8:33 AM |

| Finished on 29/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

INTHAF Masterlist

"It's nice to have a friend."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was quiet as you were sat on your bed, relishing in the feeling of a peaceful atmosphere. The windows emitted daylight from outside, and the sheets of your bed kept you warm despite the cool air.

Currently, you were free to do whatever you wanted, having no plans for your day to do.

...Or, well, you had no other plans that could get in the way of your one singular plan for today. It was very important to you.

Taylor, your best friend since high school, has been busy in her music business, and you've been thinking of a way to spend time together once she gets a big break from her work. A tent was casually sitting in your living room as your finger lingered on her contact name. Oh. Yes. The living room— only in reason due to all the rain thats been outside.

Your thumb taps on the name eventually, and the screen changes to a calling one, a rhythmic tone sounding out from the phone. You put it against your ear, awaiting for the beeping to stop and a familiar voice to come through.

"Y/N!! Hi!!" Her voice comes out softly. From all the time you've spent away from each other, your mind plagued with worry, but the softness of her tone calmed it right down.

"Hey, Tay," You respond right back, her name coming from your mouth just as gently. A smile rose on your face, and she could hear it in your voice.

"We haven't talked in a while. What's up?" As you listened, her voice sounded happy, or excited. There was no background noise at all, and it didn't seem like she was stressed. At least relief flowed through you, with the hopes that you caught her at a good time.

But in her side, her face and day had brightened up the second she saw your name pop up on her phone screen, and now she was fidgeting with her necklace as she waited for your response.

You took a breath in. "Nothing, really, I just thought...are you busy at all today?" You were about to mention the plan of hanging out right away, but since she's been so busy, you didn't want any expectations of either of you being disappointed, so you asked her first.

You hear her hum through the phone, like the gentle melody of her songs as you waited. "No, I'm free all day," she said softly. With a soft sigh, you let yourself lay down comfortably on your bed, knowing that if you stood up, it would only make you pace the room as you talked.

You pressed your phone against your ear, making sure your grip wasn't too loose. "Wanna have a sleepover or something?" a pause went by, but then you simply blurted it out. "I have a tent in my living room."

A moment of silence went by. You could almost imagine her expressions. "What? What led you to doing that?" Her surprise was present in her voice, a soft laugh echoing over the call, and you giggled yourself.

"Well, I was thinking of going camping with you but...since you've been busy lately, I thought we could do a short and easy way to feel like we're camping without having to." You explained, trying to give her reasons to come over.

Another silence goes by as she processes your words. Either that, or her brain may have short-circuited. You thought the first one, because your own brain might be dealing with the latter. "It's also just been very rainy, and who doesn't like feeling like a child again, sleeping in tents?" you add in, although a slight grimace rises on your face at even the thought of a tent sitting casually indoors rather than outdoors.

"You...are so random sometimes." She breathes out a laugh, then goes quiet. You hear a small meow coming from the background, and it was obvious her attention had gotten distracted by a certain cat.

"And...?" You added, having not gotten an answer to your question yet, and your fingers brushed over your bedsheets to find something to soothe your own heart.

"Yeah, sounds like fun!" She says, her voice going up a bit at the end of her sentence, saying it with full honesty and excitement, while another meow sounds out again.

"Who is that in the background?" You asked with curiosity, the noise being adorably small like a kitten.

"That's Benjamin. He jumped on the piano keys." You hear some distant sounds of the piano keys being played, presumably, his paws hitting them as he walked.

Taylor had picked up your call while at the piano, that's for sure. You caught her in the middle of a practice or songwriting session.

Then you blinked after process of realizing she stopped playing to pick up your call, but another thought went by of this new cute friend.

"You got a new cat while you were gone?!" She hears your gasp through the phone, and breathes out a chuckle. "He sounds so cute and small..." you murmur, a smile upon your face. Some shuffling came through before she spoke up again.

"Yeah!! I saw him while filming a music video, so I thought why not..." she says, keeping watch on the small little kitten walking on the keys. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face, and you shook your head. She could have 50 or more kittens if she wanted to, and in another universe, she probably did have that many.

"So, your place, I'll be there in 20 minutes?" Taylor asked. Since you two were close, she had once focused to getting a house near yours, just so you could go to each other's places easily.

"Yeah! I'll see you later, then." You said, sitting up. She could hear the movement, but couldn't see them since you were on a voice call, and you could hear her keys jingling in the meanwhile, a small laugh going by. "Okay, see you."

"See you- And don't forget snacks! Specifically marshmallows!!" You manage to get your words out as you giggled. You already had your snacks ready, all you had to do was just put biscuits and chocolate, or put the marshmallows over a fire. Or well, in this situation, your stove.

"Okay, okay. Bye, now!" She said, almost urgently, and you had to stop yourself from questioning on if she had things to finish up first, or if she was excited. On the other side, she was first petting Benjamin's soft fur, smiling.

"Bye!" The end call tone sounded out, and you pulled your phone away with a smile as you laid back to your bed, content with the conversation you had.

A sigh leaves your lips. It had been so long, but the time went by like the ceiling fan spinning from your ceiling, fast and full of bustling wind. There was nothing else to do but wait.

You turned on your side, then got up, (although regretting it and cursing yourself for how fast you went), you decided against continuing your comfortable position on the bed, for the risk of being too comfortable, or sleep creeping in to the corners of your mind.

Your legs led you off to your already open door and to the living room, where the lights were dimly lit with an orange color, and the curtains were closed, leaving a cozy atmosphere in the room.

The kitchen was your target. There, the snacks were already sitting beside a backpack upon the kitchen counter. Opting for an easier way rather than getting them all in the tent later with your hands full, you instead pick them up and place them all in the bag.

There were books in the tent too, ready to read with a small reading lamp. After gracefully setting down the bag, you went back out and laid down on the couch, not wanting to get bored of the small space while waiting for Taylor.

You fiddled with the couch's material, fingers brushing against it before a sigh escapes. Your phone was an option for distraction, sitting face down off in the corner of your vision, but you had already spent far too much time on it when you were trying to decide on calling Taylor or not.

You grabbed a book instead, going to get youreelf lost in a world of fantasy to pass the time. It was only you inside the house, but for now, you focused on Taylor's arrival that will soon come.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Once 20 minutes or so passes by, you soon hear the doorbell echoing through the front door. You nearly jump from the couch in eagerness, the ceiling having turned to be entirely the most dull thing you've stared at your whole life.

Walking to the door, the air was cold from the rain that had started dropping down just a bit ago. Your hands go to the doorknob, and when you get it open; behind it, reveals the blonde standing with a gentle look on her face, her eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hi. I brought Benjamin." She smiles, turning her body slightly to show you the small black, brown-ish eared kitten. You giggle, loving how she sometimes brought along one of her cats, although this was a new addition.

"He's very welcome to join," you say, noticing how the sky behind her had gone dark. Not only from the rain, but the sun having gone down. You didn't even realize the time was evening when you called her.

You move to stand aside, letting her enter your home just as she used to so many times before. She quickly notices the tent sitting in your living room, and her eyes were set on it. The warm atmosphere wrapped her in a comfortable feeling.

"You really did go all out," she says softly, but giggled, stepping in and admiring every aspect of your living room, and the way the tent actually seemed quite comfy.

"Anyway, great news that he's welcome, because he's been wanting to meet you." You could see the kitten stare up at you from the peekhole of the bag. She takes off her shoes, leaving them on the shoe rack before turning to you.

"Meet me?" You ask, slightly confused, walking towards the tent with her following off with you after she was done.

"Okay, this sounds silly, but he's seen pictures of you on my phone, and I kid you not, gotten my attention with meows and paws on the screen multiple times!" This time, a bright laugh comes from your lips, making the corners of hers, turn up softly. The two of you manage to arrive at the tent, it safely (and nearly silly looking) sitting at the living room.

You had prepared by leaving the zip closed before, so when you arrived, you take a glance at her with a corner of your lip going up. She looked at you with raised eyebrows, but also an amused smile. Your hands go to open it, a smooth sound coming from the zipper until it fully opened, and the sheet flopped down to reveal the inside.

You crouch to go into the tent, settling down at your own spot as you watch her get in too, her face awestruck. Inside, was a small camping lamp you had bought a few days ago, and a projector that shoots up a picture of the night sky up the ceiling of the tent, leaving it glimmering with stars.

"I can't believe you did all this." She breathed out, sitting down next to you as she stared up at the scenery above her. She shook her head, a growing smile on her face when she glanced at you.

She took off her cat backpack and opened the zipper, Benjamin jumping right out and beginning his new curious adventure of inspecting everything in the tent, including you.

"Aw, he's so tiny." You watched the kitten's paws pad around before their directions turned to you, and its beautiful blue eyes shined your way. It certainly reminded you of a certain someone, that's for sure.

Your hand reaches out, and Benjamin lightly sniffs your hand before walking in, making your hand touch his head. Your face melted into pure adoration completely when you felt his soft fur.

You continue petting him, ending up entirely with him in your hands, while Taylor was watching the interaction gently. Her eyes held a somewhat calm, loving look in them. You didn't see, because you were too caught up in the new friend you had gotten.

You held Benjamin in your lap before going to grab something in your bag at the side of the tent. Both the kitten and Taylor had looked, practically sharing the same face as your hands searched. Eventually, your hand got back out with two vars of chocolate.

Taylor let out a small "ooh!" when you set it down in between the two of you, her eyes tracing every movement of the sweet treat, realizing what the marshmallows was for.

She reaches back to the cat backpack, opening another zipper to the further back, and brought out her own treats; the bag of marshmallows you asked for. "Got the marshmallows." Her hands gently open the pack and grabs one...(four) and eats it, her face brightening at the delicious taste.

You smile at her, grabbing one for yourself and opening the chocolate bar, too, setting hers beside her. If anyone saw you, they would've thought they were seeing kids hanging out. But, who cares? The treats were quite delicious, after all.

As you were unwrapping the chocolate, she had popped the other marshmallows in her hand, off into her mouth, and now was grabbing Benjamin off your lap, holding the purring kitten close to her chest to pet him.

She waits until she's swallowed the food in her mouth to lay down on the floor, placing Benjamin on her stomach. As the relaxation started to sink in, he had his eyes closed, curled up comfortably. The warmth of everything was making up the most coziest atmosphere.

Her eyes searched the ceiling with the made up stars, as if looking for a type of constellation. You didn't even know if this projection had the actual night sky, but it would be impressive if it did.

You bit into your chocolate, letting it melt in your mouth as you looked at her every movement. The soft skin of your hands brushed against each other ever so slightly when you moved to lay down fully, letting your head rest against the floor.

A crinkle sounds out as she cracked open the chocolate pack too, casually eating it with the marshmallows— a sweet chaotic taste that can either be teeth rotting or delicious in your mouth. Probably both. The least is, you both will remember to brush your teeth very thoroughly later on, and drink some water.

You both watched the beautiful stars with a comforting silence that came over the moment, all of everything, finally, seeming to slow down for just a minute. Maybe an hour. Her guard was lowering down, and you could slowly see the work starting to get taken off her shoulders.

You soon moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position, looking over to your side once more. It didn't take much for Taylor to notice, and she turns her head to look at you, her eyes curious on what you were doing.

You grab a piece of a post-it note from the small pile of items, along with a pen that sat next to it, writing down something without letting her look. She smiles, her mind wanting her to move to see, but she waited patiently for you.

You lay back down, the paper with ink handwritten on it in your hand. Slowly, you put it on her lower stomach, right below where a sleeping Benjamin sat, as if she didn't just watch you do the entire thing.

She tries her best not to smile and instead put on a curious face, her hand going to delicately grab it. She holds it up to the ceiling, since she was laid down, and read the words. It was, 'I miss you :(', and her insides filled with warmth. The blonde looks to you, who's been waiting in anticipation.

"I'm right beside you!" She exclaims playfully, laughing. But in her heart, she knows what you're trying to point to is that she was missed by you, so very dearly in the time of her absence.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth was raised up in a smile. "I missed you, too." she says, her voice being so soft.

You didn't see it, but she had slipped the note into the pocket of her sweater...for safekeeping.

end of chapter 1. <3

INTHAF Masterlist

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[mythvoiced]

@xinxiins | ♥

Wénzhé's knuckles are almost white. His fingers are wrapped around the edge of the bench they're sitting on. There's no reason to be this tense, right? But Wénzhé is exactly the kind of person who needs to hold on when things are calmest.

There aren't many moments in his life these days where he feels like he's holding onto one important enough to make his grip that tight. It'd been easier for weeks and then months and now nearly a year to simply loosen his grip around everything that had ever mattered enough in his life to mold its shape into his palm.

He'd let go at the worst of times and cost someone's life, so he might as well stop holding everything else, too, right? Clearly his grip wasn't meant to hold safe and secure, kindly and cherished.

Enter him.

Lí Chényǔ is a man unlike... where should he even start? He doesn't think the English language was invented with the foresight of Wénzhé one day needing it to describe Lí Chényǔ and his heart in relation to him, or it would have tried harder to be half as, a tenth as beautiful as Lí Chényǔ himself.

It's not so much his appearance, though there's nothing to complain about there - if he took his hand, would his fingers wrap around his wrist in one go and easily because Wénzhé's fingers are lithe and long, or because Lí Chényǔ is malnourished enough to allow encompassing in a way Wénzhé doesn't want?

There's a reason he doesn't turn to meet his eyes a lot. Wénzhé has never been particularly good at any kind of sport. Team or solo as they may be, he can hold his own in those that require height, because the kids used to drag him

and her

into their games solely for that advantage, and what you do a lot you inadvertently end up learning a little off. Sure, a basketball net or the one tugged across a volleyball field, he can maybe navigate around it well enough. But if he imagines Lí Chényǔ to stand there and were to turn and meet his eyes, he'd fall flat on his ass.

If he were a figure skater, he'd slip and slice his own hands.

If he played tennis he'd get every ace directly in his gut, and would use it to pretend he can't breathe because the ball impedes him, and not because every time he turns he wants to brush those strands out of Lí Chényǔ's eyes and lean in until he can breathe the rest of him in.

That's why the white knuckles, that's why the grip, that's why he can't sound confident enough to his own ears even though he doesn't stutter as bad as he'd figured he would, that's why he looks away almost instantly, pretending the joy erupting out of Michael and Wendy's throats had suddenly caught his attention again.

There's a lot of something ugly buried in his chest as well, makes his stomach coil and turn on itself uncomfortably, because how can someone like him be deserving of wanting to hold onto someone like Lí Chényǔ?

That's why he tries.

Something twists painfully in his neck when his head whips around at the tightness suddenly in Lí Chényǔ's voice, the sniffling, and he instantly slams his hand against the spot, as if that would ease the uncomfortable pain shooting through his skull.

"What-? Fuck, sorry, did I-" he falters and bites his tongue, lips uselessly parted on apologies he doesn't know how to word because he doesn't know which part of his statement he should apologize for, and then the attempt dies anyway.

He hates interrupting Lí Chényǔ when he's trying to put something into words, but he gets the urge to do it here anyway. It's ugly, too, he doesn't want to hear it almost because certainly, surely, in a way, there's no way-

Lí Chényǔ bumps his knee against his own and Wénzhé scrunches his nose to not start crying, too.

"I don't know what that means," he says pathetically, as if Lí Chényǔ doesn't know that. It doesn't matter, though, does it? Whatever he said, it most likely matches the English that had preceded it, and sometimes wonders if Lí Chényǔ resorts to Mandarin for the part of his words that would cradle Wénzhé's heart a little too lovingly out of a sense of mercy for Wénzhé.

"Don't say that, gosh," he runs his other hand across his features. Thanks whatever higher power had put his head back on properly on his shoulders enough to push him into Lí Chényǔ's life.

"You're gonna fill concert halls in this life," he points at the ground in emphasis, suddenly fierce, suddenly desperate. He leans closer. "Not in a few centuries. Okay? I'm your first fan. Not your only."

His fingers tingle.

Would it be all right to touch?

His thumb shakes as he brushes it along something glistening suspiciously at the corner of one of Lí Chényǔ's eyes. His hands shake when he pulls away again. "Sorry, uhm," he gulps, rubbing his palms together to get rid of the tremors. "You hungry?"

[willgrahamscock]

Things that make me lose my mind: Poolverine edition:

"Are you ready to be calm?"

"Not all of you was asleep."

Logan telling Wade that he'll never save the universe and it cuts to Wade looking like he'd been hit by a truck and the pan back to Logan instantly regretting it and getting even angrier than he was + Wade taking it all silently.

Wade using his thighs and leg to smash Logan's head into the side of the car.

Leg over Logan's shoulder as he penetrates Wade + Wade arching up and taking it like a good boy.

"I take it back, the Honda Odyssey fucks hard. Too bad you don't, needle dick." (ok, BRAT.)

"Oh we're just getting started, bub." (ok brat tamer.)

Logan smiling with Wade's blood dripping into his mouth. (freak...)

That shot of Wade bricked up in the back seat.

The entire Honda Odyssey scene alright. It's called sex when you're gay.

"You're the one that I want" Playing as they're trying to maul each other by the way.

D: "You smell something?" W: Yeah, you. A lot of you." Right before the DP variants appear. (why do you know what Wade smells like hm? that's gay.)

A song about blowjobs playing as they fight all the DP variants. "I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there???" and "I hear you call my name, and it feels like home" (gay.)

From "Did you just say you made an educated fucking wish?" to "Don't listen to him he's a liar." to "You didn't lie, you made an educated wish."

From "It's one of god's best jokes that you can't die" to breaking down the reinforced steel door to get to Wade.

Wade getting jealous when other people were ogling Logan shirtless and Logan actually listening to Wade and putting on a jacket.

"They called after me and I ignored them." To Wade calling Logan's name and taking a second before turning and going home with him.

The way Logan looks at Wade when he's being introduced to Blind Al. (I haven't seen him smile like this ever.)

[thepencilnerd]

a series of firsts

When you ask Chishiya for a simple favor, neither of you are prepared for what follows. tldr: you ask Chishiya to teach you how to kiss.

genre/notes: fluff, borderline smut, ooc-ish!Chishiya x fem!reader

rating: mature (smut implied but not explicit)

word count: 2k

You weren't sure when you had worked up the courage to ask Chishiya such an outrageous favor. Maybe it was the late nights spent together, both of you perched on the worn-out couch, his arm thrown lazily along the backrest, fingers sometimes brushing against your shoulders in a way that sent shivers down your spine. Or maybe it was those fleeting moments when his gaze lingered on your lips, and you couldn’t help but think – wish, even – that he wanted this too.

It was a quiet evening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced up at him, his calm expression giving you just enough confidence to take a leap of faith.

“Chishiya,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Can you teach me how to kiss?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the smallest lift of his brow the only sign of his surprise. For a long second, you thought he might laugh or brush it off as a joke. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You want me to be your first kiss?” he asked, his voice soft yet edged with curiosity.

You punched his shoulder playfully, trying to mask your nerves. “Maybe I just want more practice! What makes you think I haven't kissed anyone?”

Chishiya chuckled, the smile on his face growing. “I know you better than anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, a blush creeping up your cheeks, unable to meet his gaze for too long. It felt ridiculous, embarrassing, but this was Chishiya – the person you trusted most. There had always been something there between you two, something neither of you dared address until now.

You decided to distract yourself from the growing tension, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Actually, I've kissed a few people, you know. There was Niragi..."

Chishiya's lips twitched, his response immediate. "Too boring."

You rolled your eyes, continuing, "And then there was Kanato."

"Too short," Chishiya replied dryly, his tone making it clear he wasn't impressed.

"Okay, but what about Yuki? She was—"

"Too much of a know-it-all," Chishiya cut in, shaking his head slightly.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "You just have something to say about everyone, don't you?"

Chishiya gave you a small, amused smile, his gaze softening. "I just know you better than anyone." You pressed your lips together and averted your eyes. 

As the tension hung between you, his gaze softened, and he slowly shifted closer.

“Okay,” he said, and that one word held so many layers. Your eyes widened at his answer, his expression colored with acceptance, understanding, and a promise that this moment would stay between the two of you.

You felt him move closer, his presence warm, the scent of him familiar and comforting. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and his voice came out in a soft whisper, "Can I touch you?"

You nodded, your breath catching as his hand found its way to your cheek, gently tilting your head towards him. He studied you, his eyes soft, searching yours for hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, and you closed your eyes, letting the world slip away until it was just him.

His lips met yours softly at first, a brush of warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. He was gentle, deliberate, as though he wanted you to savor every second. Your heart pounded, nerves giving way to an all-consuming warmth as your hands instinctively found the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

Chishiya was careful, patient – letting you find your rhythm. His lips moved against yours, slowly coaxing you to respond. It was sweet at first, like a promise, a reassurance that there was no rush. And then, slowly, you felt the shift. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers splayed against your back. The kiss deepened, and a soft sigh escaped you, surprising even yourself.

It was like a spark ignited, and suddenly the air between you two changed. What started out as slow and explorative quickly grew more intense, the hesitancy fading as you both gave in to the want that had simmered for so long.

You pulled away slightly, your breath shaky as you looked into his eyes. "Chishiya, what... what do I do?" you asked, breathless.

“You’re doing amazing,” he sighed with a gentle smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Put your hands here," he said, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. You followed his lead, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric, grounding yourself in the closeness. Slowly, your fingers began to drift, brushing against the side of his neck, feeling the soft skin beneath your touch. He shivered slightly at the sensation, and you hesitated for a moment before your hands came up to gently caress his face, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling every detail.

"And what about... my tongue?" you whispered, feeling the blush deepen on your cheeks.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before he spoke. "Follow my lead," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He tilted his head slightly, and then he demonstrated, his tongue gently parting your lips, coaxing yours to respond. His hand slipped behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, moving slowly to let you mirror him.

You hesitated for a moment, then tentatively moved your tongue against his, feeling a rush of warmth as he responded with a quiet hum of approval. His hand guided you closer, his lips moving more insistently now, urging you to follow his rhythm. Your fingers tightened around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your knuckles, and you felt him smile slightly against your lips, as if proud of how quickly you were catching on.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a gentle nip that made you gasp against his mouth, and his hand slipped lower, cupping your jaw tenderly as if grounding you in the moment. Your heart pounded, heat pooling in your chest as you clung to him, feeling the intensity build between you.

Chishiya’s breath was shaky as he pulled away for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, unable to find words, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling. It was more than okay – it was everything you had imagined and more. You leaned in, capturing his lips again, and he responded immediately, a quiet groan escaping him as he pulled you impossibly closer, your bodies pressed together as though to make up for lost time.

His kisses became more urgent, his lips parting against yours, his tongue brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine. You were lost in it, in him – his warmth, the way he held you as if you were the most important thing in his world. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, a steady reminder that this was real, that it was Chishiya who was here with you, giving in to what you both had kept hidden for so long.

And in that moment, you didn’t care about anything else. Not the nerves that had gnawed at you before, not the fear of what this could mean. All that mattered was the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. The way his fingers threaded into your hair, his lips moving with a desperation that spoke of everything neither of you had ever said. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, like letting go was simply not an option. His hands began to wander, one sliding down your back, pressing you closer, while the other moved to your waist, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your side.

A shiver ran through you, the sensation of his touch both electrifying and comforting. He pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours as he looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with emotion. "Do you want to keep going?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet filled with a raw intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

You swallowed, nodding, your breath catching as you whispered, "Yes." His lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in, capturing your lips once more, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent. His hand traveled up your side, fingers grazing your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You felt your own hands move, sliding up his neck, your fingers brushing through his hair, tugging him closer.

The world seemed to narrow to just this – his touch, his breath, his body against yours. The way his hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access, a soft sigh escaping you.

His breath was hot against your skin, his lips gentle yet possessive as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send shivers down your spine. Your hands tightened in his hair, your body arching into his touch, the warmth between you growing, consuming.

He whispered your name, the sound sending a thrill through you, and then his voice came again, softer, more vulnerable. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin between words. "How long I've wanted this... wanted you."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding at the confession. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and you saw it there – the emotion he'd kept hidden for so long. The walls he always put up were gone, leaving nothing but raw honesty. "Chishiya..." you whispered, your voice trembling.

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "I tried to pretend I didn't care, that I could just be your friend. But I can't. I need you... more than anything." His eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope in his gaze. "Tell me you feel the same."

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as you whispered, "I do. I've always felt the same." A smile broke across his face, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with everything he'd kept locked away – all the love, the longing, the need. It was intense, consuming, and you kissed him back with everything you had, your heart swelling with the overwhelming truth of it all: you loved him, and you always had.

His hands roamed down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping beneath your shirt, the touch searing against your bare skin. You gasped into his mouth, the sensation both thrilling and comforting as he pulled you closer, as though trying to erase any distance between you. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck, where he pressed kisses that were both gentle and possessive, each one drawing a soft moan from your lips.

Chishiya's breath was ragged against your skin, his voice a whisper. "I want you," he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands moved upwards, brushing against your ribs, his thumbs skimming the edge of your bra. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, seeking permission, and you nodded, your heart pounding.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands exploring with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Your own hands moved over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt, before slipping it up, your fingers grazing the warmth of his skin. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips found yours again, more urgent now, more desperate.

You felt his skin against yours, the heat of him enveloping you as his hands moved to your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "You're perfect," his eyes filled with adoration. He slipped your bra off, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

His lips found yours once more, his hands now exploring every inch of your bare skin, his touch setting your nerves alight. You were lost in him, in the way he made you feel, every kiss, every caress pushing you further into a haze of warmth and need. His mouth moved down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone before he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your chest, his hands holding you as if you were something precious, something he never wanted to let go.

His hands moved lower, tracing every curve, his fingers brushing the waistband of your pants as his lips continued their journey down your body. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again, his eyes filled with an unspoken question. You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and he gave a small, tender smile before continuing, his hands slipping beneath the fabric, sliding them off slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving yours.

His touch was everywhere, his lips following the path his hands traced, leaving you trembling beneath him. The intimacy of it all, the way he looked at you with so much care, made your heart swell, the love and desire blending into something overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice thick with emotion, and you responded with a whisper of his, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him in every possible way.

Chishiya's movements were slow, careful, his hands and lips guiding you through every sensation, until there was nothing else – just the two of you, together, everything else fading away. His breath mingled with yours, his body moving with yours as he brought you closer, each touch and kiss filled with a promise, an unspoken vow that this moment was yours, and he was yours, completely.

Afterward, as you both lay tangled together, breaths mingling and hearts still pounding, Chishiya looked at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. "I dropped so many hints, and you missed every single one," he teased, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

You let out a laugh, nudging his side playfully. "You were just as bad!" 

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Elaborate?"

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin on your face as you propped yourself up on your elbows. "Like that time I kept asking you to help me study for that class I already had an A in, just because I wanted an excuse to spend time with you. Kuina walked in and saw us sitting way too close, and she said, 'If this is your idea of tutoring, Chishiya, you’re not even trying to be subtle.' And you just smirked like it was nothing!"

Chishiya's smile softened, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Maybe I was just waiting for you to say something first."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the genius."

Chishiya smirked, tilting his head slightly. "What about when I made sure we ended up paired together for every group project? Or that time I walked you home in the rain and conveniently 'forgot' my umbrella so you'd have to share yours?"

A flush crept your cheeks. "You did that on purpose?"

"Of course," he said with a soft chuckle, his tone teasing but his gaze warm. Pulling your closer, his lips brushed your forehead. "I guess we were both pretty clueless." He paused, his gaze meeting yours, sincerity shining in his eyes. "But I'm glad we finally figured it out."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Me too."

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together–no more doubts, no more hesitations, just the two of you.

[beloveds-embrace]

Hello, I really liked your Dukedome au, and I imagine how reader would when Jhon told her about his boys and she was okay with it, but maybe, unconsciously, she doesn't want the guys to misunderstood her relationship whit Jhon, so she star treating them in a very distant/formal way(probably she doesn't even notice either, its not like she is upset or something)

Like, no more cute nicknames for them or cute giggles, she stop looking out for them as often and they notice.

I just like angst I'm sorry 😭

They would notice immediately because ever since your mind subconsciously accepted that no one here would chastise or correct you, you've basically turned the nickname into a part of their name, always said so gently. Or when you'd seek their company out yourself, simply happy to spend time with them.

But then you convince yourself that perhaps you are making them uncomfortable, that maybe you are getting between them and John especially, so you decide it'd be best to just stop. No more nicknames, no more purposely going to spend time with them, just a very calm and respectful camaraderie. It should be fine, shouldn't it? No doubt they'd even be happy, having more privacy without you encroaching on their space.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. First day, they notice that you aren't calling them with those dearly beloved nicknames in that sweet tone of yours, but they assume it might just be something distracting you. They are sure it'll get better.

Second day, they realize you haven't gone to any of them. Haven't had breakfast sitting with Johnny, haven't visited John in his office, haven't taken your walk with Kyle or checked the library to read with Simon. Going over the conversations each and everyone of them has had with you, trying to see if they’d hurt or upset you in any way only to come up empty-handed.

Third day is the last day. There’s genuine fear they might havr royally fucked up. But it doesn’t explain why you are still calm and gentle as ever, greeting them if you happen to run into them but no more cute nicknames or lingering to speak to them. It hurts more because they do hear you still use them for others, but not them.

Fourth day is the last straw. Kyle is there first thing in the morning, greeting you awake with a big bouquet from John and Simon and a tray of so much it’s surprising it even fit on the tray- made by Johnny and Kyle both.

“My lady,” he smiles at you, setting it down on the coffee table a little away. It takes effort not to frown when you just mumble a confused “Kyle?” With no nicknames like love or honey.

“My lady,” he repeats, voice soft and apologetic- almost desperate. “Whatever I’ve done- whatever we’ve done, we truly apologize for it.” He starts. And then asks for your forgiveness again, apologies falling out.

Meanwhile, you are just confused as fuck. And still in your nightgown. What is he- what are all of them even apologizing for, anyways?

[goldenstring6123]

HIIIYAAAYAYA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERY SINGLE PIECE YOU RELEASE!!! YOU HAVE ME CHECKING YOUR PAGE 24/7 IM OBSESSEDDD 🫦🫦 ANYWHO ignore my fawning but how do you think the lads boys would react to a suuuuper clingy gf??? idk but if i were mc i would NOT be leaving their side and would literally be glued onto their body like mc is a strong soldier for resisting (especially rafayel my HUSBAND 😩) literally wanna just curl up in their lap and carve myself into their ribcage so they can never escape from me tehe. ALSOOO U DON’T GOTTA RESPOND IF UR BUSY OR UNCOMFY!!!! JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITING 🫶🫶

Lnds: Sticky little lover

Warning: vaguely suggestive, mentions of hickeys, fem!reader, clingy!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, there might be spelling mistakes, I haven't proofread yet.

Author's note: Awieee thank u sm pookie! I understand the feeling of wanting to latch onto the LIs~

Zayne:

Zayne wakes up with you on his chest, your leg over his crotch, and your arm across his stomach. To him, you were like a weighted stuffed toy and a weighted blanket, all at the same time. He wasn't complaining; maybe it was an excuse to stay in bed for another half an hour.

The bathroom is big enough for the two of you, with two wash basins, a separate shower, and a bathtub. There are three bathrooms in the house, but you always choose the one he uses. He's complained once, but you said you didn't like the interior design of the others. Side by side, you brush your teeth and comb your hair while he shaves and flosses. If you wake up earlier than usual, maybe he'll let you moisturize and exfoliate his face. It's no surprise Zayne leaves the bathroom door open for you. It's just normal for both of you to cross paths in the large bathroom.

When he leaves for work, you never miss a day to kiss his nose and give him a quick peck. You embrace him with two arms, but he hugs you back with one, the other hand holding his bag. You don't mind.

Your message gallery is filled with pictures of your mundane life: a snapshot of a book you're reading, the new coffee you tried, the little teacup Maltese that reminded you of him. Even though he's busy, he always finds time to react, and if he doesn't, he brings up the picture when you pick him up at the end of the day. He never forgets.

Calm days are spent in each other's presence. You always cling to him in one way or another. While he's reading a book, your feet are on his lap, and his fingers unknowingly knead your ankles. While watching a movie, your shoulders touch, and your hands are intertwined. When you react to the film, his hand, still holding yours, follows your movements.

Dates are always fun. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do as long as Zayne's in your company. Cafe dates are cute, but Zayne always calls you out for staring at him with a weird look in your eyes—you were admiring him. Whenever you walk, you cling to him, wrapping yourself around his forearm while playfully weighing him down. He stumbles for a second but smiles.

You love leaving hickeys on him, even bite marks if he allows, but the rule is never above the collar of his shirt. You oblige 97% of the time. The other 3%, you sneak in a light hickey that passes off as a mosquito bite, just peeking through the collar of his dress shirt. Sometimes, there's one behind his ear, barely visible. He never knows, but the doctors and patients at the hospital do.

When you're apart, you always call him and go about your day. At night, you video call and try to stay awake, only to snooze off. Zayne chuckles at your attempts to wash the tiredness away, but sometimes, he falls asleep with you. In the morning, both of your phones end up overheating and out of battery.

Zayne loves your company, to others it may seem trouble some but with you, it was adorable. It's through your clingyness that he experiences feelings he never once did before, and those little things always brighten his day. You actions with him makes him feel more loved and he knows he has a hard time expressing them but with you around, it had become more and more easier.

Rafayel:

They say opposites attract, but you and Rafayel are the universal exception.

Rafayel doesn't like it when you're late. Even for a home-date, he fusses about being left alone too long and feeling abandoned. You laugh at his whining over text and enter his door. When he sees you, he jumps off the couch and pouts, "Finally, it took you long enough."

You're like magnets to each other. Wherever one goes, the other follows. If you're cooking ramen in the kitchen, Rafayel sneaks behind you, hugging your back and sniffing your hair. If he's watering flowers in the greenhouse, you sit nearby and watch a ladybug on a leaf. If he's painting, you're reading on a nearby couch. Rafayel's residence is too big for one person but just enough for two.

Rafayel whines when you do something without him, especially if it's something he wants to do. You once took a flower arrangement class without him, and he sulked, "Wow, you didn't even think to tell me? I wanted to do that with you." Even watching movies is hard because you need to pause and wait for him whenever he leaves the room. One time, you finished a mystery series without him, and he ate the tiramisu you were saving for dessert in revenge.

Matching clothes is a thing. He avoids tacky prints but opts for complementary outfits. Because of this, Rafayel buys clothes with you in mind, often choosing items with a feminine counterpart. His shoe closet and yours are practically the same, and you don't complain because Rafayel has good fashion taste.

You love cute matching items. You once bought a two-piece mug set with a heart design, and he took the other one without you knowing. He also took a keychain from your collection, matching the one you have in your wallet.

"Are you tired of me now?" he asks when you keep your distance, avoiding a hug. It's the middle of summer, and the AC is broken. You reek of sweat, and the last thing you want is to be touched. You sigh and pat his back, "After I take a bath, I'll give you all the hugs you want."

He asks about your plans every morning, almost as a ritual. You've gotten used to replying while getting ready. If both schedules permit, he joins you for grocery runs, laundry, or whatever mundane tasks you have. You make good use of him, letting him carry the bags even if you could do it yourself.

When Rafayel is at an exhibit, you bombard him with texts: jokes, articles, or random thoughts. He replies quickly, hiding from the audience, bored out of his mind. In return, he sends you pictures of his artwork, which you threaten to sell online as digital files. He blocks you for a good five minutes.

You're each other's wallpaper. Surprisingly, Rafayel asked to do it. You spent hours finding the perfect pose and recreating trending ones. Rafayel insisted on multiple retakes.

You were rafayel's missing piece. To him, you were the only thing that he has ever wanted in his life. He loved you dearly and a part of him was terrified that you don't reciprocate the same level of love as he does to you; but lo and behold, fate has given him a blessing after all those years of loneliness. His heart swoons at the very sight of your actions. You were clingy, that was factually true but the same goes for him. Nothing makes him more fulfilled than seeing you both think and love in the same wavelength.

Sylus:

His base has become your home. On days off, you often find yourself in one of three rooms: his bedroom, where you lie on his bed, tapping away on your phone or laptop; his kitchen, where the chef cooks whatever you want in exchange for listening to his stories from his little village; or the lobby, where Luke and Kieran update you on the most boring things in the building. Sylus doesn't mind at all; it's less work for Mephisto, and he can keep an eye on you.

Sylus's sleep schedule is the same as that of those in Linkon City. His days begin in the evenings, often leaving you lying in the big bed alone. Sylus is nearby or at his desk if he's not out on the streets. You like hugging his pillow because it smells like his 3-in-1 shampoo. If he's out on late-night trips, you selfishly steal his shirt from the closet, wear it on the pillow, and hug that to sleep, forcing yourself to be satisfied with what you got.

His lap is your chair. It doesn't matter where he's sitting; you always find yourself on him. Sylus sometimes complains about his thighs going numb, but when you leave, he yanks you back, positioning you between his legs, with your butt on the chair instead of his thigh. He goes back to his work as if nothing happened, occasionally sparing you a kiss on the forehead or rubbing his face against yours. If not, you shower his chest and neck with light pecks before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

His biceps are nice to the touch. On dates to the city, while waiting in line, you squeeze his muscles for entertainment, even through his thick leather jacket. He flexes for a minute before relaxing, amused at how easily you entertain yourself.

The boyfriend shirt phenomenon is common. You don't leave the base wearing his clothes, but you certainly walk around the area in them. Whether a turtleneck, a black blouse, or just a plain shirt, you're always wearing his clothes, even in his company.

You're an eccentric one, thats for sure. Sylus never truly got ahold of how you managed to change from being so distant to practically being glued to him. It was like he partnered up with a whole new different person. He wasn't complaining at all if anything, he found it admirable and a part of him was quietly relieved that time did all the adjusting between you and him. Despite being a bit too fussy at times, he'd be more than willing to compromise if that's what makes you happy.

Xavier:

You always steal his hoodies. They're big, soft, and smell like him, so you have two or three at home. Xavier scratches his head when he notices bare hangers in his closet. When you visit, he finally sees what's missing. No matter how many hoodies and jackets he buys for you, you always get your hands on his, almost becoming a problem. Now, he rotates his jackets, giving them to you on schedule.

Xavier's hair is too soft to be human. When he's on your lap, you massage his scalp and fidget with the ends of his silver hair. If you have hair elastics and a cute clip nearby, he ends up with his hair tied up or braided. He needs your help to take it off because it's too painful for him to do alone. Oops?

You prefer sitting beside him rather than across from him at a table. He didn't understand at first because he wanted to face you when eating. But when he's beside you, he slowly gets it. You like touching him one way or another. You enjoy your elbows touching or your thighs grazing each other. It's also convenient to lean slightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

Xavier loves bathing with you. The bathtub in his apartment is big enough for both. He likes the smell of your bath bombs and is sometimes fascinated by the toys or mini jewelry inside. Your back always presses against him, and he willingly holds you. On more stressful days, you light candles and open some cheap wine to enjoy in rose-covered water.

He's riddled with bite marks, even when not having sex. He's dozing off when you suddenly find his arm or leg appetizing. He jolts awake and tries to shake your grip, but it's too tight. When you've had enough, he stares at your work of art and wipes his saliva-coated limb. You grin, watching him wipe your fluids. Because of the frequency, he rarely lets his consciousness drift away when his bare arms and legs are around you.

When bathing alone, you use his shampoo instead of yours. It's surprising he doesn't use all-in-one shampoo and body wash; he uses baby shampoo. When confronted, he shrugs, saying it does the job, and recalls you like playing with his hair. His perfume and powder are also for babies.

In the eyes of Xavier, you were adorable even if your actions were questionable. You were cute, and he never once thought that your actions were a burden or suffocating. The things you do, the way you speak they were all precious in his eyes and Xavier understands that this was you way of showing your love for him. Because of that, he tolerates you every time you bite him.

Your gallery is full of his pictures. Candid photos you secretly take daily. Your favorite is when his cheeks are full of food, resembling a hamster. You take pictures when he's asleep, using you as a pillow. Sometimes, you're both looking at the camera, making random faces.

Author footnotes: I'm sorry if these were pretty general. I'm not the clingy type so I don't know how these type of people act but I wrote it with the things I observed from films and tiktok lol

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[amorre1989]

strange visit and a date night

pairing: Spencer Reid; reader; Derek Morgan

word count: 3,8k

story?: After Spencer runs to the grocery store to buy some things to have a date night with you, but, to surprise of both of you, agent Derek Morgan suddenly shows up at his door.

"alright so, eggs, flour, garlic, wine and tomato sauce, is that it?" he asks checking on the list you just gave him.

"perfect" you answer smiling.

"alright, I'll be back in a second" he says, kissing you softly while holding the back of your head gently. You smiled and let him get out of his own apartment. While waiting for him, you decided to do a little cleaning, you had already become a master in "Spencer Reid's ethics for deep cleaning a house", so cleaning the way he likes was easy as pi (as he would say).

While you were trying to get rid of a stain of sauce from a plate you heard a knock, honestly you just walked to the door you didn't even think about the knock not being Spence, so you opened it. There, standing in front of you, was a dark skin man, very tall and ripped, and bald.

You smiled and he looked surprised.

"uhm, I'm sorry, I think I got mixed with the numbers..." he said, checking again the number of the door. "mhm..weird"

"are you looking for Spencer Reid?" you asked, then you saw his face changing from confusion to super confusion.

"I am, yes"

"this is his apartment, he went grocery shopping"

"are you?...staying with him? or are you maybe being tutored or something?" "tutored?" you thought.

"no, I'm his... something" you said, you haven't discussed it yet...so it would be better to just leave it there.

He burst out laughing and held himself in the doorframe, you smiled, thinking it was funny.

"sorry, are you his friend?" you asked

"I'm Morgan, yes, I work with him" he said exchanging hands with you.

"oh!" now it all made sense "yes! of course, he always talks about you, come in please, if you wanna wait for him"

"I do! yes, thank you baby".

You closed the door and waited together for Spence while sipping coffee and chatting, being interrogated too "how'd you too meet?, how long have you been seeing each other?, do you live together?, why hasn't he said anything before?". So many questions you didn't know how far you could answer.

Then, you hear the sound of the keys opening the door.

"inflation is crazy, and old women should learn to calm down, that woman thought I wanted her stupid cat sand and we don't even-" he stood still, observing the image, you, his now 6 month old not girlfriend, and his womanizer attractive coworker, sitting on his couch together while apparently have been drinking the coffee he bought for you.

"hey pretty boy" says Morgan smiling "you didn't tell me you have a girlfriend"

"I uhm...what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask you if you- don't avoid my question!" he says standing up, are they gonna fight?, no, he'll finish Spence.

"it's private" he says leaving the bags and looking at you, you just smile, agreeing, it is private...well not so much because everyone knows but it's not like it's official.

"would you like to stay for dinner?" you ask.

"no!" shouts Spence from the kitchen, you and Morgan look at each other and chuckle.

"no, we had a date night planned" he says coming back to you both.

"alright, alright, I'll leave you too alone then...I came because I wanted to ask you where you buy your clothes, I need to wear something like your shirts to an event" he says.

"I'll send you the info later...just leave" he says pushing him out of the house, you laugh.

"goodbye princess" he says and you wave at him.

Spencer closes the door behind him standing with Morgan at the hallway.

"that's a pretty one you have there" says Morgan smiling

"she is, yeah, she's beautiful" Spencer says blushing

"why didn't you tell me?" Morgan asks

"it's just...I wanted to check this was real and not insignificant before saying anything"

"are you gonna ask her to be your girlfriend?" he smiles, he thinks Spence is such a girlfriend dude.

"I will...yeah, but I need to confirm she wants me to be her boyfriend first" he says

"I bet she'll say yes...so, date night huh?". Spence nods "what will your dessert be?" he asks laughing, Spence blushes but smiles and pushes him towards the elevator.

He waves goodbye to Morgan from outside the elevator and then comes back to you (as usual).

When he opens the door you're the first thing to his sight, taking out the groceries.

"so inflation is crazy?" you ask getting closer.

"yeah, and old ladies" he says pouting. "this was horrible, I never imagined Morgan would come to our house".

You smile at the sound of "our" house.

"let's start cooking for our super fun date night" you say and kiss him.

After Morgan leaves, you too start to cook. Tonight's menu is pasta! which you both love, now you're teaching him how to play with the seasonings and discover new flavors, you've made that since you got into Spencer's life, teach him how to experience, not only in cooking, in sports, your culture, places, and a lot of things Spencer always brought up when talking to the team unconsciously.

Now he's chopping garlic next to you, while you open the tomato bottle and pour it in the pot.

"you know? garlic is a great cleaner for the liver, in women it can help with vaginal infections, bloating from menstruation, it can even help the blood flow and It can help reduce bad cholesterol and triglycerides, and increase good cholesterol" he says while putting the garlic into the pot, you smile and kiss his cheek.

"good for me then, how about for you?"

"Garlic may help reduce the risk of cardiovascular disease, strengthen the immune system, as it contains antiviral, antibacterial and antioxidant properties, It can help fight skin infections, such as athlete's foot and ringworm, as well as intestinal infections" he says smiling at you.

"sounds good, we should eat lots of garlic then" you say and kiss his cheek. He smiles and blushes and starts to chop some carrots and meat. You open the cabinet and give him another board for the meat, then you open the drawer and give him another knife.

"different knives and boards baby" you say while taking the pasta from another cabinet.

"right" he says, not in a bad mood though, in a way that shows he understands and listens to you.

When the pasta finishes cooking you mix it with the sauce together, then you both set the table and he runs to the living room.

You take a peek but you aren't able to see anything besides the door, then he puts a red candle on the center of the table and lights it on, you smile and he smiles.

"how prepared" you say teasingly.

He smiles and kisses you, so sweet and comfortable, his lips are where yours should be stored always.

You have dinner discussing a book you read together and how pretty both of you look tonight.

"your friend Morgan's cool" you say.

"yeah, he's funny" he says. You wipe a stain of sauce from his lips and he smiles, almost spitting the pasta from his mouth as you laugh, then he laughs along.

"you make me nervous..." he mumbles looking down at his plate.

"why?" you ask giggling.

"you just do" he says smiling, he leans and kisses you.

After dinner comes dessert, which was shared ice cream while laying on the couch watching a movie, you interrogate him with questions like "what would you do if..., or what do you prefer?..." which makes him laugh but think.

That's your night, those are your nights, as usual, filled with love and laughs, while he strokes the skin he's able to reach. Once he told you he was a germophobe, now you can't believe it because how can Spence, the man that's all day with his hands on you, when you cook, when you get dressed, when you're brushing your teeth at the same time, when you're sleeping, even unconsciously, be a germophobe?.

Soft strokes on your bare leg, his index finger stroking your thighs, then your calves that he pulled on his thighs, then kisses, kisses on your legs which he says he loves so much. Suddenly he's above you, soft kisses from the ice cream and the warmness from his skin covered in a shirt.

You can hear the credits of the now finished movie, but that's not something that's gonna be the principal of your attention, you focus on his lips on yours, on your neck, then on the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin while unbuttoning your shirt to after feeling him kissing and licking your chest, you focus on thinking about how he's leaving marks on you that say "Spencer was here". Morgan was right, you were gonna be the dessert afterwards.

[laufeysvalentine]

cry.

sirius black x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ sirius x potter!reader ... sirius loves you, but he swears he's not good for you. angst, childhood friends to lovers, inspired by cry by cas, coward!sirius, ooc!sirius a little pls don't come after me love u bye

word count ༄ 2.7k

nora’s notes ༄ CAUSE I NEEEEEED TO TELLLL YOU SOMEEEEETHING! erm okay i know i said i was working on pt two of i want you but i got distracted by this instead. i haven't read it through bc if i do i won't publish it PLS don't mind how the writing quality from my last post has dramatically worsened...

you look so pretty like this. mouth drawn open, drool trickling from your soft mouth. your face, your whole body, turned towards the boy next to you. even in sleep, you’re drawn to him. so trusting, so open. 

something in his gut twists. 

—

“sirius!” a call comes from behind him, accompanied by a smattering of footsteps as he watches you approach. your lips are parted to take in more air, and he’s overcome by the urge to grab your face and absolutely kiss you silly. 

he ignores it, trying to instead focus on what you’re saying. 

“...hogsmeade tomorrow?” you ask, a twinge of hope seeping into your voice. you’re so eager, eyes wide, that he feels terrible not knowing what you said. “were you listening?” 

“sorry, darling, i was too distracted by your beauty. what was that?” he tilts his head at you, taking pride in the way the tips of your ears turn reddish. 

flicking his ear, you repeat your question. “d’you wanna have lunch at hogsmeade tomorrow? james said he was going with re–erm, lily, or something, and rem and peter are busy.” 

“uhh,” he pauses, thinking about his schedule. 

“it’s okay if you’re busy,” you tack on quickly, noting his hesitation. 

“no, no,” he frowns, upset by the way you’re tugging at your neckline, looking away from him. “i’ll go. i promise. i’ll be there. lunch, you said?” 

that smile, that beaming, beautiful smile, lights up the whole world and has him smiling along with you. you’re contagious. he wants to breathe you in and keep the disease all to himself. 

he makes a mental note to cancel all of his plans tomorrow. he wants to see you all day. 

—

you shift on the pillow, face burying further and further into the sheets, as if permanently embedding yourself onto your bed. the comforter slips from where it was from your shoulders, allowing him a good look at your bare back, the expanse of your shoulders. he wants to press kisses against them, knead his hands into a sweet massage–anything to make you feel good. 

your face is serene when you sleep. the knot between your brows, which james swore was permanent at this point, has dissolved with rest. his thumb traces your eyebrows before he can stop himself, knowing this is the last time he’ll see you this calm for a while. 

he turns away from you, trying to avoid looking at any part of you. he can already feel the guilt gnawing at his fingers, worming its way into his bones. he needs to get it out. 

before thinking too hard about it, he shuffles around, standing from your bed and grabbing his boxers from where they landed on the floor last night. he takes the rest of his clothes and slips them on as quietly as possible. but before he leaves your room, he pauses to drink you in. you, in all your drooling, snoring glory. 

you move around, a hand reaching out to your left, roaming up and down the bed as if searching for him. he’d prefer it if you sucker punched him in the stomach. 

he can’t won’t think about that look in your eyes yesterday, when you begged him to fuck you. it was devastated. especially when he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds and opened them to see you, caged under his body, just watching him. 

like you knew he couldn’t give you everything. like you knew he would be there, but he wouldn’t be there. and when he closed his eyes again, he pretended he couldn’t feel the wetness slipping from your eyelids. 

—

“he got another one,” your brother sighs as he enters the common room, only a few seconds after a red-faced sirius, who stormed through, scrubbing at his face. 

“a howler?” you ask james, sitting up straight in concern. “from… her?” 

he nods, making a move to pass you where you’re sat with your legs draped across the couch, having eaten dinner much earlier than the marauders. 

“i’ll go,” you say, stopping him from walking up the stairs. “he won’t want to see anyone who saw it happen.” 

“but i’m his best friend,” james counters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “he won’t mind.” 

“just let me.” you plead with your eyes, which makes him hesitate just enough for you to pass him and head to the dorm. “stay down there.” 

he relents, and you enter sirius’ dorm with the tiniest bit of a sashay. you know he hates feeling weak, so the best way to treat him is not like he’s delicate. even if he is. just a little bit. 

you hum a bit, making your way to james’ bed, which sits directly across from the window sirius is sat in front of. the boy is looking out the window, a cigarette tucked between his fingers, and as much as he looks devastatingly handsome, his eyes are also red with a sort of tiredness you only acquire after years of crying. 

“may i?” you reach for the cigarette, and he hands it to you with a limp hand, not even looking over. he knows exactly what you’re doing, but he’s not going to stop you. to do that would be to deny the only thing he wants right now. 

you take a long drag, purposefully blowing the smoke into his face, smiling when he gives you a reaction. “turn around?” you ask with a softness that he can’t deny. 

not when you’re just so lovable in comparison to the scarlet that still tinges his vision, the cold screech of his mother, screaming, telling him he wasn’t good enough, humiliating him in front of his friends. he slept around, he was a disgrace. she reminded him of who he was–who he’d always be: a black. 

without realizing, his fingers clench into balls, and he listens to you, letting you thread your fingers through his thick hair, shoulders relaxing with your touch. 

“talk about it?” you murmur, braiding the top of his head into a soft french braid. 

just for a second, he hesitates. then, with a sigh that echoes through his body, he shakes his head. “you.” 

you get what he means, and so, you steer the conversation into mindless blabbers about your day, what you ate, who you hung out with. the more you speak, the more you feel the tension in his body dissolve into your hands. after a bout of silence, “you’re a good person, sirius.” 

he chuckles a bit at that. “you and my mother would disagree.” 

“it’s true,” you double down. “who else would take on an illegal animal form, just to help their friend? who would pull pranks on anyone who even dared to look at any of their friends the wrong way? who would go with james to threaten all the guys who look at me funny? just kidding, you’re not off the hook for that one.”

his head lifts towards yours with a pout. “he was creepy, darling. he was staring at you like he wanted to sink his teeth into your pretty little flesh, and it creeped me out.” 

you wrinkle your nose. “ew.” 

still, something warms in him at the thought of you accepting him. of seeing him as a good person. only–he wasn’t sure if that was true. he felt terrible more often than not. always a destroyer, a nuisance. couldn’t keep a girl, couldn’t love properly. if there was anything walburga black was good at, it was getting under his skin. 

right now, it seemed like she had crawled through his bloodstream and settled into it. and it sure didn’t seem like she was going to leave anytime soon. 

—

sirius is ignoring all of the calls that come through. the second he left your house, he went to the cliffside with a pack of marlboro’s and a hair tie. after lighting one and putting his hair back, he admires the valley. it was magnificent, with sloping mountains of green sliding down both sides, kissing in the middle. flowers decorated the hills, and his breath catches. it is so beautiful. 

but he’s terrified of slipping. if he falls down into that valley, he would have no chance of coming back up. the slope is too steep. 

he stands, stepping back to watch from afar. another step, and a stumble backwards. his foot catches on a stray rock, and he lands hard on his ass. ow. 

when he grabs for his phone, a lump knocks on the walls of his stomach. he has thousands of messages from james, who has clearly been updated on the situation and is spamming him like crazy. but only one has your name on top of it, staring up at him with those teary eyes, wide, desperate: please don’t shut me out. 

—

the christmas lights that tangled themselves in your tree were the nicest, coziest light for you to read by. you had insisted on celebrating some muggle traditions that lily had taught you about, and of course, james was all onboard. the two of you convinced your parents to put up decorations around the living room, and now you spend all of your time there. after grabbing the new novel you’re reading, you curl onto the couch to read. 

will the noseless villain defeat the scrawny boy? you’re just turning the page when something–no, someone–spills out of the chimney, covered in soot, stumbling onto the carpet. some dark liquid is leaking out from his skin.  

you’d recognize that figure anywhere.

sirius. 

the book slips from your grasp and you run towards him. “james!” you holler at the top of your lungs, fingers skimming his torso. “siri, i–are you okay? that was a dumb question, of course not. what–what do you need?” 

he peers up at you, his eyes glassy. “darling, i have to tell you–i–” 

james comes running through the doorway, hearing the commotion, and yells for your parents. they take off his shirt, and you can see all of the bruises that have molded themselves onto his body. he has a large gash on his ribcage, and he looks victim to a crucio or two. 

oh god. 

before you can stop them, water collects at your lashline, cascading down your cheeks. something pushes you to sit by him, hold his hand, and when you do, he glances at you. his face is weak from the pain, but he still reaches out to wipe your tears away. 

“don’t cry for me, y/n.” he murmurs softly as your mother tends to his wounds. 

“i can’t help it,” you let out a small hiccup, your fingers tracing his. 

i’m not worth it, is what he almost says. he turns his head away from you. he can’t look at you anymore. not when you’re this distraught over him. merlin. 

he catches you crying for him again in your room, a few weeks later. you were dancing in the kitchen to whatever came on the radio, and he bumped into a stack of plates on the counter. they shattered, and he almost had a panic attack right then and there. what would he do when euphemia kicked him out? he had nowhere else to go. 

he knew you would cry when you nudged an explanation out of him. you comforted him, and it really was no big deal in the end, but something in his bones told him you would cry for him. and it made him want to claw his skin off. 

—

sirius tries to escape, but of course, you find him. of course, you always do. even when–no, especially when he tries to hide. when he hates himself so much that he wants to rip his own flesh apart, break his own bones, you see him. 

he’s not sure if he hates or loves that about you. 

you’re outside his door, distraught scribbled into the wrinkle of your eyes and the quiver of you sweet, sweet lips. “sirius?” 

maybe he can just avoid you. maybe he can just let himself absorb you forever, ignore the reality. 

“i know you’re home,” you call softly, wringing your fingers. “can we talk about last night?” 

he swallows. do what’s good for her. you have to make her happy, above all else. he opens the door. 

“hi,” you say with a shyness he hasn’t seen in years. you step forward, crossing the boundaries, letting yourself into his place. into his heart. 

— 

“darling, i…” he swallows, and something twinges in your legs, telling you to run. but you can’t tear your gaze away from his adam’s apple, which you pressed kisses to only hours earlier, when you whispered sweet words to each other, saccharine promises. 

you tilt your head at him, and bile rushes to his mouth. how could he ever do this? he is a coward. 

“we can’t be together.” he says after a minute of silence, eyes trained on your feet. “we can’t.” 

at first, you don’t even try to argue. that makes it even worse. “i’ll wait for you.” 

“no, it’s–i,” he pauses, takes a deep breath. “i… i just can’t. not now, not ever. maybe, i’d change, someday. but i can’t help the way i feel.” 

“you… you don’t feel the same about me?” it comes out in a breathy whisper, and it's his turn to watch you swallow, something scratching at your eyes. 

“i wish that i could,” he responds. i wish i was good, wish that i could give you my love now. 

“oh. i… oh.” your voice is barely audible. the stumble of your feet as you race towards the door is louder. it echoes through his bare apartment, second to the pounding of his heart as you close the door gently. you were always too kind, too soft to him. 

he was always too terrible for you. 

—

the first time sirius met james potter, the boy took one look at him and said, “don’t you dare go after my sister.” 

he shrugged it off at the time–why would he care about james’ sister anyways? all he wanted were friends. real, genuine friends. maybe ones that would really piss walburga off, if he was lucky. and james potter seemed just the type. 

but when he met you, something changed. he wanted you, he knew that much. even at thirteen, fourteen, he knew he felt something different for you. a feeling he wanted to keep close to his chest and never let go. he already had a spot for you in his heart; it was probably drilled in at birth, that’s how well you fit into it. 

yet, every year, even before he said anything, james would waggle his finger. “oh, please, padfoot, not my sister. you can’t even hold down one girl, i’m never letting you near here. you’d just break her heart. besides, you don’t want her, anyways,” and that throaty laugh. he never realized how much those words had grabbed fistfuls of sirius’ guts, squeezing them until nothing came out. 

he internalized them. he was untouchable, the boy every girl wanted, that every girl could fuck, but never have. 

—

sirius black had been selfish many, many times in his life. but this, this was the most selfish decision he’d ever made. it sucks that he was too drunk on cheap booze and a scary kind of lovesickness to notice. 

the only thing he can see right now–the only thing he can think about clearly–is you, in the most stunning dress he’d ever seen. when you walked in, his jaw dropped with a little whoa. 

you’re the only one for him. that’s how it’s always been. 

it’s too fucking bad that when he spun you around to love ballads on the dance floor, you let him. it’s worse that when his forehead kissed yours, you let him. you let him press his ugliness against your perfect. he took you by the waist, and you let him. 

his most selfish decision, underneath him, begging for him, tugging on his collar and smearing kisses on his jaw, his neck, his v-line. 

oh, shit. 

james came into his conscience, on his tails was walburga. you’re not good enough for her. you never have been. you’re a mistake, a disgrace. you’ll sleep around, mince her heart into chunks. run, sirius. that’s all you’ve ever done. 

seeing you in front of him, he knew. with that lovely, lovely smile and that gleam in your eyes, oh. he’d only make you cry. 

masterlist | next part

tags: @lydiasfalling @moonysloveee @kenjikishimotoswifey

p.s. idk if anyone from my last post wanted to be on my general taglist or js for that post so if u do lmk and i'll add youuuu (or if you want to be removed)

have a good day!! 💝

[tearsofastraeax]

cw: ooops i might hafe felt a lil angsty, please don't hate me, also sorry in advance

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

your heart beat heavily in your chest as you stepped up to the bar the 141 usually hung out in after returning from their missions. the pit in your stomach had been sitting there for 3 weeks now, ever since you had that fight with simon. the whole way to the bar you had tried to convince yourself it wasn't as bad as you thought that you were just being your typical overthinking self, that he didn't hate you and it was just a stupid old fight, nothing to worry about. no, not at all. he would be excited to see you barge in through the doors and welcome you with open arms. after all, you haven't seen each other for a while now.

as you stared down at the street, your feet slowly carrying you towards your destination, you tried to remember what you had even fought about. it was some stupid misunderstanding, but simon had been so agitated, you were at a loss, couldn't get a second in to explain yourself.

"just go, please. i'm so done with hearing your excuses", he had muttered for the third time. 

and while you were desperate enough to try again the first two times, your self-respect was still intact enough for you to take the hint. so you had left. 

you were only able to contact him again days later, right before he had to leave on his mission. back then all he had said was for you to not worry about it.

and you had tried. you had tried your best. but the worries were eating you alive, so much so that you decided to surprise him. or ambush him? did he even want you there? was he excited to see you?

before you knew it, you arrived at the bar. your eyes frantically searching for the guys through the window, hoping to get a feel of the situation before you just barged in.

and there they were, gaz and soap laughing about one thing or the other, beers in their hand and standing close to price, who was as calm and collected as ever, as he sat on one of the bar stools, nursing on his pint.

but what made your heart skip a beat, your stomach fill with a heavy stone, weighing you down, and your hands getting clammy by just the sight of it, was simon. who so very casually leaned against the bar, a beer in the one hand and the other wrapped around some pretty blonde thing, that cozied up into his side and giggled at his jokes and remarks.

you weren't sure you could even belief your eyes. was this actually happening to you? was he that done with you? had you been too dumb to catch on to him wanting to break up with you? what had happened to the 'it's always gonna be you'? what had happened to the 'you're my calm'?

your stomach turned around at what you saw. your heart heavy and empty. a cold nausea drifted through your body like you had never experienced before.

and then his eyes met yours.

[nonotnolan]

Trial Period

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Blake's voice rang out through the apartment, though I couldn't quite tell why my roommate was currently mad at me. Still, if I didn't talk him down from whatever ledge he was on, he was just going to get more and more pissy. I sighed, and minimized the spreadsheet I was working on.

"Blake, you know I'm working from home today. Whatever you're mad about, you can come in here and talk to me about it. I'm sorry I left some dirty dishes in the sink, or whatever." He must have been mad, whatever I had done-- usually he waited until after he showered to talk to me.

He stomped into the living room so that he could stare down at me. "Oh no. You are in way more trouble than that. I just had the most interesting conversation at the gym today. Some beanpole fairy came up started flirting with me, and when I told him I didn't swing that way, guess what he did?" He paused, clearly waiting for me to confess to something, but I still had no idea why he was upset. "He pulled out his phone, and showed me a whole-ass conversation on Grindr with someone using my photos!"

I couldn't help but laugh, which certainly did not help him calm down. "Okay, and? Look, I'm sorry you got catfished, but I don't know why you're mad at me about it. You're trying to start a modeling career, right? It's one of the unfortunate risks of the job. I'm sorry that one of your Instagram followers has no sense of chill, but I don't see why that makes it my fault."

He shoved his phone into my face. "You see this photo? I downloaded it for a scheduled post, but it's from a gig that hasn't released yet. I'm not allowed to share any of those photos on social media until the magazine spread drops. You're the only other person who could have gotten onto my phone and grabbed it."

Well, that was a complication that I wasn't expecting. I stared at him, trying and failing to think of a loophole that sounded plausible. There was only one thing left to do. "Seth, I know you're in here," I said, loudly projecting my voice. "I know you wanted to try out a few different guys before you committed, but that's not gonna work anymore. The trial period is officially over. You broke it, you bought it. If you don't take Blake, he's going to ruin everything."

Blake scowled at me. "Who the fuck is Seth? Harry, what in the fuck is going on?"

"You're so cute when you're confused," I said, pinching his cheek. He was already pissed at me, I may as well go all out. Besides, I needed to give Seth enough time to prepare. "I'm not actually Harry. I haven't been for the last two weeks, not that you noticed. I'm actually a ghost who decided that this apartment would be a great place to find some new bodies to inhabit. And let's be honest, this whole complex is jam packed with hot, young studs like yourself." I couldn't help but flash an excited grin, and I think I might have let my real eyes flash for a few seconds. Well, whatever. I no longer needed to worry about keeping secrets from Blake.

I had clearly spooked him-- he started creeping backwards toward the door. "Harry, you're scaring me. That's not funny. Don't joke about that sort of thing, Harry. Just… fuck, delete that profile and promise me you won't do it again."

"Like I said, I'm not Harry," I said, grabbing my laptop bag and putting it in arm's length. I pulled out the mason jar that had Harry's soul in it, and placed it on the couch. "This is Harry. Or, what's left of him, anyway." Harry's soul fluttered around in a panic, banging into the glass walls as it tried to escape. Or maybe it was trying to warn Blake about what was about to happen next? It didn't really matter.

Blake had turned to run, but he didn't make it more than a few steps into the kitchen before he fell to the ground, as if something had slammed into his back. Seth hated possessing people using brute force, but his error hadn't left us with many other options. "Sorry for the close call, Phil," he said, adjusting his posture. Where Blake was constantly puffing his chest and arching his back, Seth had more of a forward slouch to his shoulders. It was a posture I was very familiar with-- regardless of the bodies we wore, we had been together long enough to recognize each other's presence.

"At least Blake has a good body," Seth said as he pulled himself up off the ground. "I was probably going to end up choosing this one anyway, to be honest." He started feeling up his chest, giving his nipples a few test pinches and letting out a soft moan. "Oh yeah, he's just as sensitive as I remembered. Do you have any spare jars in your bag? Obviously I didn't have time to put him to sleep before I possessed him, and he's just screaming non-stop in my head right now."

"Sounds like that's what you get for being careless," I said. "You know that helping you expel the soul is my favorite part. I'm not letting you rub one out in the bathroom, we're doing this the right way."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, babe. You're at work for another five hours. I already said I was sorry, please don't force me to put up with the flesh owner for that long."

I closed my laptop and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Who said anything about waiting for me to get off work? No one tracks my activity as long as I get my work done on time." I leaned back and started groping Seth's hefty bulge. "Besides, we both know that Harry is trapped in a shit job. I bet we can get him something that pays way better."

He leaned over to give me a deep kiss. "You know, one of these days you'll get tired of turning your new hosts into porn stars," he said, as I grabbed one of the empty soul jars.

"Maybe so," I admitted. "But that day is not today. This body is wasted on white collar work. Anyway, you know the drill. Time for lube-- I want you to ride my cock while I sit here." He placed the jar underneath his hardening cock, ready to catch his load.

The first time we fucked in new bodies was always my favorite. Seth came first, coating the inside of the jar with a layer of jizz in addition to Blake's soul. I wasn't too far behind, since Harry's body was new to gay sex and still quite sensitive. I rolled off to the side and basked in the afterglow while Seth sealed the jar and placed it next to Harry's soul.

"Part of me still wants to be mad at you for almost ruining everything with that 'trial period' idea of yours," I said, as he laid down next to me to cuddle. "Next time we need to pick new hosts, we're picking one and done again. None of this trying out multiple bodies rubbish, it's too much risk."

Seth just smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. "Fine, no more shopping around, I promise. But you know you can't stay mad at me." As we laid there, holding each other tight, I had to admit that he was right.

[carmenberzattosgf]

OH MY GOD CARMY SMOKING WHILE YOU RIDE HIM walk with me…

maybe you’re at his place, or his office, and you’ve just been kinda needy all day. not to an ‘annoying’ extent, but carmen sees it because he knows you. so when he tugs his jeans and boxers down just enough for you, you pounce

he leans back in his couch/chair, pulling out a cigarette and lazily watches you go at it. maybe he’d tug your shirt up so he could ‘see his girls.’ his nonchalance just drives you fucking crazy and he lets you do it yourself, no matter how many times you whine for him to help because ‘you were fuckin’ gagging for it all day, who am i to interrupt, huh? jus’ keep fuckin’ me like that’

i don’t think he’d blow smoke in your face (intentionally) but if you find it hot he would. and once he’s done he puts out the cigarette, his lax grip on your thighs tightening as he starts snapping his hips against yours

Also includes this ask I got shortly after: Camry smoking a cig during sex has my mind going brrrrrrrrrrrrr. It's so lazy, too. just slow riding him while he lays back and watches. Maybe it's punishment for acting up???? You're just whining on his cock begging for him to help you cum.

I. YEAH. YOU GET IT. Time to expand on these thoughts. ( this ended up being 1670k words of filth)

You find yourself at Carmy’s apartment on his day off. Those don’t come around too often. You expected him to do something by now, but he hasn’t made a single move to get his hands on you. He kissed you when you came in, but that was about it.

You take matters into your own hands. Try to, at least. You are practically all over him, never leaving his side. When he’s standing at his kitchen counter that evening, pouring you a glass of wine, you quietly walk up behind him. Your arms wrap around his waist while you rest your forehead on the center of Carmy’s back. You let your hands gently slide over the taunt muscles of his stomach over his shirt as you speak.

“I’ve missed you, Bear. Missed your hugs. It feels like I’ve hardly seen you all week.” He sighs into your touch.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Carmy turns around to hand you the glass. “Work was extra crazy this week. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to see you.”

“It’s alright. I know it was out of your control…Maybe there’s a way you can make it up to me?” You flash him a look he knows full well.

A breathy chuckle leaves his lips. “Sweetheart, I’m exhausted. Can we just watch some tv?”

You don’t even attempt to hide the pout on your face as you settle next to him on the couch, leaning against him with his arm around you. Carmy put on a show he knows the both of you like.

You only keep your hands to yourself for one whole episode. Your movements start slow. At first you begin to trail your fingertips along his side. It’s not long before your hand slides up under the fabric of his white tee.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Carmen’s voice is smooth and calm. You lean up to press a kiss on his check, followed by a quick one to his neck.

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Let’s not play dumb now. I think you know better than that.” He leans back away from your body, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m going to let you try again. What are you doing?”

You fold instantly. “I need you, Carm. I really need you.”

“Yeah? Missed my cock, huh? Want it so bad that you don’t care about how tired I am?”

“No! No, that’s not it—“ you protest quickly.

“Fine.” Carmy begins to unbuckle his belt as he speaks. “But I’m not putting in any work.” He lowers his jeans and boxers just enough to free his dick.

Without a second thought, you stand up from the couch and pull down your pants and underwear. Once you straddle his hips, you reach down and pump his hard cock, spreading the precum over his length. Carmy takes in the sight of you as you gradually sink down onto him. Slowly, inch by inch.

Despite how many times you've been with Carmy, you still haven't gotten used to the stretch. In a position like this, it almost feels like he's in your stomach. Your eyelids squint shut while you take deep breaths and try to adjust. Though, at the sound of a lighter, your eyes pop right back open, staring down at Carmen with wide-eyes. A cigarette rests between his lips, having just been lit.

“W-what are you doing?” You’re expecting him to start guiding your hips, but he doesn’t. Carmy leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. He lets his legs spread wide, forcing you to straddle higher up on his hips. The action presses his cock even deeper inside of you. He looks as though he’s having an evening cigarette, only difference is that you’re on top of him.

His tattooed fingers takes the cigarette from his mouth so he can blow out the smoke. Carmy turns his head to the side, blowing the smoke cloud away from you. The smell quickly fills up your nose. "I told you, l'm tired.” His voice is stoic. If it wasn’t for his cock pulsing inside of you, you wouldn’t think he’s turned on. “Go on and get yourself off. I'm going to enjoy my cigarette."

You start slow, grinding your hips on him. Your hands rest on his lower stomach for leverage as you rock against him. His abs are taunt and hard underneath your palms. The motion rubs your clit on his pelvis, causing a breathless moan to leave your throat.

Carmy remains still beneath you, watching you with lust-filled eyes. One of his hands rests on your thigh. His other hand tends to the cigarette in his mouth. He speaks up after a moment of letting you rock against him.

“Should have just let you sit on my thigh if all you’re going to do is grind on me. Thought you said you wanted my cock?” He waits for your response, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips to take a deep drag.

“I-I do—“ Carmy doesn’t let you finish your sentence, lightly blowing smoke into your face. He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him from the simple action, but he chooses not to tease you for it.

“Then fuck yourself on me. You’re a big girl. You can do it by yourself.”

You whimper pitifully. You want his strong arms to grab your hips and slam you down onto his cock, but that wasn’t going to happen. You rise up on your knees, letting his cock thrust almost entirely out of you. Your hips sink right back down onto him afterwards. The pleasure is unexplainable, sending electricity through your veins as he bottoms out.

You set a slow pace, not able to go as fast without Carmy’s help. His pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, before his gaze moves downwards. He watches as his cock disappears inside of you with each slow thrust. You’re dripping, coating his dick with your arousal. The sight of his thick cock stretching you out hypnotizes him.

His lack of words and refusal to help is killing you. You need him to fuck you. Your thighs burn, growing tired from the repetitive movements. “C-carm. Need you to help. Please- please I need it.” You cry out.

“You were the one gagging for my cock all day. Why should I help? Just keep fucking me like this, yeah?” He’s nearing the end of his cigarette, only a couple more minutes of life left in it. You try your best to continue bouncing on him, but it’s getting more difficult by the minute.

“Carm— fuck!” You exclaim as his cock nudges against that spot deep inside you. Carmy ignores your cries. He takes his hand off of your thigh and tugs the material of your tank top up, exposing your tits.

“There we go. Now I can see my girls.” He still doesn’t go any further than that, letting his hand go back to resting on your thigh. Not even so much as rubbing a thumb over your breast. He goes back to watching you move, fighting the urge to hold your tits for you while you bounce.

The muscles in your legs begin to twitch, but not from being close to your high. Your legs are exhausted, and your pace shows it. You’re getting slower, not going as consistently.

Carmy reaches the end of his cigarette, taking one last long drag. He grabs your face with his hand. His thumb on your chin opens up your lips. Carmen exhales the smoke into your mouth, expecting you to inhale it. You do exactly that, letting the smoke fill up your lungs before blowing it out in the space between the two of you.

Now fully satisfied, Carmy reaches over to stub out his cigarette on the ash tray sitting on the side table. Without offering a single word, Carmy digs his hands into both of your thighs and starts slamming his hips into yours. Sounds of skin against skin echo against the walls.

“Shit! Fuck, Carmy—“ you moan, not even trying to control your volume. “I can— I can feel you in my stomach, shit—“ You take one of your hands and press beneath your navel, feeling his cock as it thrusts rapidly into your soaking cunt. “Feels so good, Carm.” You’re blabbering at this point, high on the feeling of him inside you. Your orgasm draws close fast.

“Yeah you needed me so bad that you couldn’t get off without me? Is that it? My little girl needed some help?”

“Yes—“

“Then what do you say?” Carmen is nearing his own high, too. His pace grows sloppy.

“T-thank you— fuck— thank you, Carmy.”

“There’s my respectful good girl. Just needed a little bit of punishment to get her back.” He detaches a hand from your thigh, moving it to your aching clit. He rubs tight fast circles on the bud with a calloused thumb. “Go on, baby. Cum for me. Soak my cock.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Euphoria floods through your veins as Carmy fucks you through it. You collapse into his body, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The sounds of your moans and whimpers muffles in the skin of his neck. Your body shakes from pleasure.

Carmy removes his thumb from your clit, not wanting to overstimulate you. You had already been punished enough. His hand rests at the back of your head, cupping it gently. The gentleness of his hands starkly contrasts the way his hips sharply thrust into you.

“Atta girl. Just a bit more—“ he groans, offering you some praise. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hips, Carmy spills inside of you, filling you up with his cum. You both remain wordless in each others’ arms for a moment, trying to catch a breath. Carmy is the first to break the silence. “You happy now?” This time his voice has a hint of laugh to it.

“Mhm.” You kiss his neck. “Very happy. Thank you.”

“I think you know I’ll do anything you want at this point.” He laughs. “Now, can we go clean up and go to sleep? I’m even more exhausted now, baby.”

[darkbluekies]

Be good for me

Yandere!doctor OC (husband) x reader

Summary: Someone has left an anonymous tip about a certain someone in Kry's house, causing the police to stop by to ask some questions

Warnings: poison, toxic household, manipulation, toxic parents,

Word count: 1.8k

Dr Kry wets the cloth and cleans the counter, trying his best to stay calm. Their voices don't want to leave his head. They're banging through his skull.

“Let us in! We haven't traveled all this way for you to turn us away at the door!”

“I didn't ask you to come.”

“We shouldn't have to ask. We raised you for eighteen years. You owe us this.”

“I owe you nothing.”

He shouldn't have opened the door from the beginning. Would have saved himself from a lot of headache and anger.

He has just baked two sourdough loaves to get his itching fingers under control. They are now resting under a towel, waiting for the oven to get his mind off of everything. You are sleeping soundly upstairs, and when you wake up there will be fresh bread straight out of the oven specifically for you. The familiar itch in his hands comes back. That must have been the worst thing. That they saw you. And their stares towards you. He knew that they would look at you that way. I knew that you couldn't do better.

He stops in his tracks and presses his knuckles against his temple. He squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers are itching again. He wants to kill them. He should have. But you were there. God, he could never do such a thing knowing that you are nearby.

A knock on the front door brings him back to reality. He feels a shiver run down his spine as his suspicions levels rise. Closest neighbor lives a kilometer away and he's never seen them. Who would want something from him?

He gives the stairs to the second floor a quick look to make sure that you haven't awoken to come see who's at the door before he walks over to the front door and unlocks it. Two men in uniform meet his eyes. Cops?

“Good day”, one of them says.

“Good day”, Dr Kry answers, trying his best not to sound suspicious. “What can I help you with?”

“We have gotten an anonymous notice about someone in this house and we would need to come in and search.”

They’re talking about you, it must be. He already knows who has given them this “anonymous hint” and it makes his blood boil. But he can’t refuse them entry. They’ll know right away that he has done something. Better to play along and not give them a reason to distrust him.

I will deal with mother and father later.

“Of course, come in”, he says and opens the door for them.

His heart beats in his chest. He gives the stairs a quick look. Don't wake up.

“Are you home alone?” one of the policemen asks.

He can’t lie because what will he say if they find you? They will be suspicious of him.

“No, my spouse”, he says and feels how his throat dries out at the mention of you.

Now you are out in the open. He can’t take it back now.

“Where is your spouse?”

“Upstairs. They're sleeping.”

“We would like to speak with them as well.”

And I would like to kill you. He nods quickly.

“They’re sick”, he says stiffly. “I don’t want them to strain their body by physical exertion.”

“They can still be in their bed, we just want to talk to them”, they reassure.

Dr Kry swallows a deep, frustrated sigh. He refuses to wipe his sweaty palms. They will pick up on it immediately. He is about to fold his arms over his chest, but they will recognize that too. Kry glances towards them.

He walks upstairs with them behind him. He opens the door to the bedroom and walks towards your shared bed. You look absolutely wonderful sleeping on your side — the right side — of the bed. Dr Kry shakes you gently until your tired eyes flutter open. They look at him in confusion, and then at the men in uniforms in fear. He takes your hand, squeezing tightly, warningly.

“We’re sorry for waking you”, one of the cops says. “We just need to ask you some questions.”

Your wonderful eyes look at him, looking for reassurance. Dr Kry’s heart tightens. They’re scaring you. His heart can't take it, but what can he do? He should remain as normal as he can for as long as possible. Shouldn't do anything dumb.

“It’s okay”, he whispers. “They’re not here to hurt you. I won't let it.”

“What kind of questions?” you ask quietly.

Your tone is just enough careful and distrusting. His good girl/boy.

“Just some simple ones”, the cop answers.

Dr Kry squeezes your hand again, letting you know what to answer. It's not one of those hard ‘keep your mouth shut’ squeezes, but more of a ‘go ahead, it'll be okay’.

“Could you step outside while we ask questions, Mr Kry?”

He wants to scream. This can't be happening! Instead, he nods. He squeezes your hand once again. Watch your mouth.

You watch him leave and gulp. The cops turn to you.

“What's your name?” one asks.

“Y/N”, you reply in the same uncertain tone as before. “W-What is going on?”

“We're here to ask you some questions.”

You haven't done anything. You couldn't have. You've been here day out and day in!

“About what?” you hesitate to ask.

“We got an anonymous tip about a woman/man being mistreated here by doctor Karl Kry. We came to talk to you.”

Their words make you go cold. Scared that he will somehow be able to read your thoughts, when Dr Kry hasn't been nearby you have allowed yourself to imagine a scenario like this. But even fantasizing about it when he hasn't been home has felt sinful, scared that he somehow has been able to put a camera in your brain and know what you're thinking. He would be angry if he knew how much you've wished for a miracle like this.

And happy if he knew how hesitant you are now. What says that they will believe you if you tell the truth? Who says that they will take you with them here and now? If he knows that you've said something he will be angry. He will hurt you, make sure you will never talk to a cop again.

And if you leave him you might not be cured from this repulsive poison.

He walks back and forth, feeling nauseous. What if they take you away from him? Will he have to kill both of them here? In front of you? The thought is sickening. He can't kill them when you're watching. But what will happen if he does kill them? Do other cops know that they're here? Will they send more if they notice that they never came back? Kry can’t kill everyone.

Be good for me. Don't do it, please. I will reward you if you keep your mouth shut. I will be so good to you if you just do me this one favor.

The door opens and the cops walk out. Dr Kry hurries to stop and pretends to be unconcerned. The two cops walk out. He can hear you cry behind them and before he can think clearly, he pushes past them and marshes over to you, grabbing your shoulders.

What have you told them? He wants to shout.

He tries to look in your eyes to see if they're drenched in guilt or fear, to know if you have betrayed him or not. They're full of sorrow and regret … but neither fear nor guilt. He hugs you tightly. Your fingers dig deliciously into his waist.

“I think it's time for you to leave now”, Dr Kry says coldly over his shoulder. “You've upset my darling. I need to take care of them.”

The cops give no response. Dr Kry cups your cheeks, makes you look at him.

“Did you tell?” he whispers inaudibly to the cops.

He already knows that you haven't, but he needs the satisfaction of you audibly confirming it.

“No”, you sob quietly and shake your head in his hands.

He breathes out and gives you a small smile as his thumbs caress your wet cheeks. His neck bends down to kiss your nose.

“I'll show them out”, he says.

His big hands let you go. He leaves the room and follows the cops out to the stairs. Just a few minutes ago he would have wanted nothing less than to push them down. Kry can't relax yet. He needs to see their car start and hear their engine tune out before he can lock the door and feel that everything is over. That he won again.

The cops stop at the front door. One of them turns to him.

“You're a doctor, correct?” he asks.

“Yes”, Kry replies.

“What is wrong with your spouse?”

He hates the word ‘weird’ in the same sentence as you. Nothing is wrong with you. He decides not to argue about the term, and doesn't want them to stay any longer. Instead, he gives them a diagnosis that is similar to what he has caused you, just in case they decide to research it. It feels like hours before they let him off the hook and finally, finally leave. Dr Kry waits by the door and listens for the police car disappearing through the forest. He closes the door, locks it and breathes out.

He glances towards the stairs and runs up to you. You're crying into your hands. Dr Kry sighs and sits down on the bed, watching you with a heavy heart. The worst thing is that he understands how you're feeling. You wanted to tell them — you had a golden opportunity — but you didn't because you were afraid of what he'd do to you and the cops in case it failed. He hesitates before taking you in his arms. He rests your trembling body against his.

“It's okay”, he whispers. “You did the right thing. I'm so proud of you. You don't need to cry.”

“I- … I-”, you sob, not knowing what exactly it is that you want.

Dr Kry starts to rock you back and forth, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know, I know”, he coos softly. “It's okay.”

“I just want to sleep”, you whisper.

“You can sleep. I will go check on the sourdough bread.”

He lets you go and wipes your tears. Before he leaves, he tucks you in and turns on some white noise. Kry picks up his phone as he walks downstairs. He doesn't have any of their numbers saved and have done his best to forget them. But if he knew his parents phone numbers, would he call?

His fingers are itching again. If he gets the chance, he will kill his parents, he's sure of that. This could have ended differently and it would be all their fault. He doesn't want to imagine the other endings. Dr Kry opens the oven, ducks away from the scorching hot mist welling out, and takes out the sourdoughs loafs. The urge to kill doesn't go away and he knows his fingers will be itching for a long time. Until he gets his hands on his mother and father.

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 2: Captain’s Dinner

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Warning/Notes: Captain Price x Reader (on this chapter only, the poly 141 is still building), Oral sex (F receiver), a bit nasty

The rest of the drive goes by in a breath, suspiciously, Simon didn't step on any more bumps, and it felt like being rocking a baby. Kyle got his hand inside your shirt, but as nasty as your acts before, now his hand was just innocently caressing your back, keeping you calm and pliant against him.

At some point, the car stops and you hear Simon talk with someone outside of the car.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

The car moves again but for short this time. And just after a minute or two, the car stops and Simon turns off the engine. Everyone begins to exit the car, Kyle included with you in his arms. You notice people walking around, not too close but enough to see you, and you start to feel self-aware of the fact that you are being carried like a baby by the Sergeant.

“Can you put me down? I want to walk.” You say squirming a bit in the Sergeant’s arms.

“It's faster this way actually, doll.” He responds giving you a quick smile.

“At least put me on your back, it feels weird not seeing where we going.” You say turning your head around as much as you can.

Kyle snickers, making you turn to him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, I actually would be really glad if you let me carry you like this the rest of the way because like this I can hide the fact that I came on my pants like a teenager.”

“Oh.” That's all you managed to say as you feel your cheek blushing. You can definitely feel your panties sticking to your pussy, but he must definitely feel his underwear hardening.

“Soap, Ghost, we will tomorrow at 0700 for a debriefing of today's events. Go rest now. Kyle, come into my office so we can find the key and free our little birdie.” Price orders behind you, relief flowing through your veins at the thought of being free.

Kyle enters the room, Price’s office by logic, and sits you on a desk. And once you are seated, he raises his arm and crouches down getting out of the weird knot of limbs.

He stands before you, free, as you look at him dumbfounded, still cuffed.

“H-how… You could do that?!” You ask looking at him. “I thought you didn't fit, that's why you haven't got out! You could do that?!”

Kyle simply chuckles at you while he adjusts his pants quickly and drops a peck on your forehead whispering against your skin. “Sorry, luv. But it was just too comfortable.” He turns to Price, announcing he is going to take a shower and leaves the room sending you a wink right before closing the door.

You turn to Price, looking a bit shocked still and he picks the key from the drawer at his desk. “Sorry about him, he is a good lad. Hope you were not uncomfortable, right?” He asks as he walks up to you, you put your hands together expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but instead, his hands travel to the back of your tights and he picks you up forcing you to put your hands around his shoulder (almost strangling him for a second before you remember to move your hands above his head)

You let him be, too tired already to fight anymore, and he sits you on the other side of the desk. In front of his chair, once you are seated, he sits on his chair and gets between your legs.

The sight in front of you shouldn't be allowed, broad shoulders making you physically spread your legs to accommodate him, blue eyes looking up at you and warm hands picking yours. “Let's take these off, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper back, not even sure what you are begging for.

Price takes the cuffs back, furrowing when he sees the red mark where the metal dented into your soft skin. He caresses both wrists drawing circles and then one of them goes higher on your arm up to the bandages. “How's the pain?” He asks looking at your arm.

“Hm? Oh, that… honestly, I always thought bullet wounds would hurt a lot more. It's not too bad, I almost had forgotten about it.” You say smiling back at him.

He chuckles back shaking his head. “I'm definitely having you give a pep talk to the rookies. Sorry about your blouse, as well. I'll pay for a new one.” He says caressing your arm.

“Oh, there is no need, really. This is an old one, I should have thrown it out a bit ago anyway.” You admit shaking your hands to let him know there is no need.

“I insist. And if you get any medical bills, or need any physiotherapy sessions or anything. We will pay for them, we'll take care of you, doll.” He says standing up to his full height still between your legs.

“You keep saying that…”

“What do you mean?”

“That you will take care of me.”

“Yes. We will if you allow us.”

You look at his face, trying to decipher what he means. But the intensity of his gaze pulls the air out of your lungs leaving you breathless, the heat from his body is scorching against you and the ground seems so far away you feel like you falling off a cliff.

“Are you okay, doll?” He asks softly looking to meet your gaze again cupping your face.

“Yeah.” You say softly pulling his hand away and you put a hand on his chest pushing him back. “I-I should get going, I have work in the morning it's better if I get back home.”

“You can stay the night if you want, I'll drive you to work tomorrow.” He quickly responds like he doesn't want you to go.

“Capt- John.” You correct yourself earning a smile from him. “John, I need to shower, and I don't have any clean clothes, really you have done more than enough for me, I will just go home.”

You stay looking at him, waiting for him to move back so you can hop off the desk and get out. But he doesn't, instead, he gets closer and moves both hands to cup your face making you look at him. “You are thinking too hard, doll.”

And then, as natural as it is to blink, he kisses you.

A soft peck right on the corner of your mouth to test the waters, a soft peck on the other side, and then, softly, almost like melting at the touch, a kiss right to the centre of your lips.

He moves slightly back, enough to be able to speak and ask. “You solid?”

And you nod.

You are not even a hundred per cent sure you know what he means, but you know that whatever the man in front of you would ask, you would say yes.

You shouldn't, you don't know him. You only know his name and his position as Captain. You know your mind is not clear, right now he is your saviour, he is been taking care of you since you met, and he is so strong, so gentle with you, so handsome.

You shouldn't be leaning in for another kiss, but you are.

There is always tomorrow for regrets.

But tonight, all your senses scream John Price.

Never did you though a kiss could get you so hot and bothered, he only has his hands on your face and his lips on yours and you are already panting.

He moves forward, hips crashing onto yours making you gasp and he uses the opportunity to get his tongue on your mouth.

You can taste the tobacco on his tongue, swimming down your body. His hands move, taking your hair back into a ponytail and he pulls back. It stings and you groan softly, shifting to a moan when you feel his lips down your throat.

His moustache tickles the soft skin of your neck in contrast with the scorching feeling of his breath. “Who beat me to it?” He asks, chuckling drily looking at something on your neck.

Fucking Kyle.

“Better to erase it, doll.” He says, possessiveness taking over him. And there are no more soft kisses, now he makes out, no, he devours your neck like a madman. Sucking and biting, feeling the mark erupt and your panties to grow wetter.

You bite your lip to try and not make an embarrassment of yourself from how badly you want to moan, and you take his shirt out of his pants. Running your hands under the shirt, needing to feel him.

“I hope you don't mind, sweetheart. Since it is already ruined…” He trails off as he grabs your shirt over your chest and pulls, hard, pulling the buttons of the fabric and ripping it where it didn't give in.

He almost growls when he sees the skin giggle and he dives right into your chest. His hands rest on your waist pulling you forward him, pulling your shirt out of your pants.

You try to take off your jacket, but the sudden movement causes a sharp pain in your arm making you groan in pain. Price quickly detaches himself from your skin to look at your face, alarmed he hurted you. “Sorry, you alright love?” He asks feeling guilty. You shake your head, only worrying him more and then you add. “It's not you, the jacket. Got stuck on the bandages or something; can you help me, please?” He smirks mischievously at you. “Help you to undress? Oh, darling, that's my pleasure.”

He kisses you on your lips again, taking off your jacket carefully and then your shirt. He pulls your bra strap down your shoulder, leaving your bra downside, your boobs out and pushes up. He cups one of your boobs groaning on your mouth when you moan softly and then bends down to get the other one inside his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around your nipple, savouring the taste of your skin. You move your hand to the back of his head, and when he gets lower, right under your boob over your ribs, and he bites you as you pull his hair moaning his name. “John…”

“Yeah, darling, moan my name like that.” He mumbles against your skin before he goes back to your mouth. “You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart. Can't fucking wait to taste all of your.”

“Do it. Do it, please.” You say against his mouth, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Aw, darling, what a fucking sight. Asking so nicely, how can I say no?” He says between kisses as he undoes your pants.

He lifts your ass from the desk with an arm as he pulls down your pants and your underwear all together. He leaves you again on the desk and undoes the clasp of your bra taking it off. Leaving you completely bare on his desk, while he remains completely dressed. The vest is even still on.

“Fuck… I must have been a fucking saint on my last life to be worth it of this sight, angel.” He says looking up and down your body as he moves his hands from your waist up to your face to give you a kiss. “I'm gonna make you feel good, love. So, so good…” he trails off as he begins to give kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbones, sternum, tummy, and just when he is about to reach your mount. He pulls back making you whine. “Shh, pretty, just getting comfy.”

He grabs the chair from before sitting down, gets closer between your legs and pulls them over his shoulder forcing you to lean on your back using the elbow that is not hurt to prop yourself up enough to see him.

He kisses the inside of your tights, from your knee and higher, higher, higher… you can feel his beard on that soaking part of you where you need him the most. But he doesn't indulge you, instead, he goes back to your knee and high again. Teasing you, leaving you panting, aching, clenching around anything, needy, desperate.

“John… please… no more teasing…” you beg, feeling desperate for him.

“Poor baby, already soaking.” He says looking directly at your cunt, and you feel as he presses a thumb on your clit making you shudder at the feeling and he slowly moves it down your slit, reaching your dripping hole and pressing it, but without getting it inside. Just collecting your juices and driving you mad.

He takes the thumb up to his lips licking it while he looks at your eyes. “Just as I thought, fucking candy, love.” You want to complain, to grab his hair and shove his face against your cunt but the only thing that leaves your lips is a bratty whine, too horny to think straight.

You feel Price chuckle against your skin, and when you finally feel ready to tell him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit turning your brain to absolute mush as you let go of a moan worth of a porn video as you let your head fall back.

He moves his head up and down, letting his tongue move between your folds; collecting your arousal mixing it with his spit making a mess on his beard.

His index finger moves to your entrance, slowly getting it inside stretching you slightly because of the size of his hands. He sucks at your clit, almost making out with it. And once he feels satisfied with it, he gets a second finger inside.

You keep moaning his name, like a mantra almost, not being able to remain quiet when he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds, the squelch, the sight, delightful.

You have been given head before, but never like this. It never had you begin for them to keep going, to not let you hanging, never this desperate. But John Price, it has you wishing you could kiss the terrorist of your neighbour just for putting you in his line of vision.

He curls his fingers inside of you pressing a point that has you falling on your back hitting your head load enough for him to chuckle against your cunt, but before he can lift his head to check on you, you just get your hand on his head keeping him in place.

Caressing his hair, spreading your legs even wider, he eats you out like a man starved. Like he hasn't eaten in days like he just found a water fountain in the middle of the desert.

You realise then, that the reason why you have never felt like this before with any ex-lover, is because you have never felt this desired. You can feel Price moaning against your cunt, and it makes you wonder who is enjoying it more.

Not for long though, because you begin to feel the knot on your stomach get tighter. More and more tight, you feel your toes curl and you close your eyes letting your mouth open as you feel the knot coming undone like an elevator free-falling. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips that in any other situation would make you feel embarrassed and your tights clasp around Price’s head when he doesn't relent on his attack.

He helps you ride out your orgasm as you cover your face with your hands, the light in the room is suddenly too bright, and after a couple of seconds, you look up at him.

And the sight…

He is sitting, leaning back against the chair, manspreading wide, an elbow resting on the armrest as he lazily licks clean the fingers that were just inside of you. Absolutely content with himself and his accomplishments, a sight absolutely devilishly delicious.

You notice the tent on his pants, and you try to touch him with your feet. But he grabs your ankle, and you don't have enough energy on you to push it.

“As much as I would like to keep going, doll.” He says letting your leg down and coming up closer to your face. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I think it's time to rest.”

He stands up, goes somewhere behind you that you guess is the bathroom because of the sound of water and a bit later, he is back. He picks you up, and lays down on a sofa, with you on top.

A bathroom and a sofa inside of his personal office, he really is a military captain. He covers the both of you with a blanket, he gives you a kiss to the forehead and before you know it, you are out.

Post-nut clarity doesn't hit until a couple of hours later.

You are naked, in an unknown man's office, far away from home, with no phone, no keys, no money, no clothes, ashamed.

So you do the only thing you can do, you slip away from the sleeping handsome man, get dressed as fast as you can without making any noise and leave the room. You don't even bother to put on your blouse, choosing to just close your jacket.

Once outside, you let a sigh escape your lips. You know the military base, it is actually not that far away from your home, less than an hour walking back.

Are you excited about walking back home at the break of dawn alone? No. Do you have another choice? Not really, not any that would help reduce the walk of shame you found yourself doing.

So you get your hands on your pockets and start doing your half a marathon back home.

And just as the sun is beginning to pick over the horizon, you reach your home.

Just last night there were dozens of police cars, military workers, everything, the whole paraphernalia. But now? It is just dead silence, no a soul in sight, as if nothing has ever happened.

The janitor calls your name when he sees you, he gives you your keys and tells you that the police dropped them by when they cleaned everything.

You wait for the elevator and make your way up to your floor. On apartment 608, there is a police notice, banning everyone from getting close to the crime scene. There are bullet holes and some bloody handprints on the walls, a blood splutters a bit too close to the height your arm is.

You shake your head trying to forget about it, and open your door. Once inside, you lock the door and look for your phone. Only to remember that it must be in your bag, in your car, where you dropped it when you tried to run.

You look at the clock on the wall that you always forget about, and realise you have 20 minutes to get ready if you want to make it time to work. So get at it.

Most of those 20 minutes, go into taking a shower. You feel dirty, mainly because you are, but also because you feel used. You think about Price and Kyle, handsome military men, they have probably visited countries you don't even know exist and they probably have a lover in each of them.

You are probably just another one, and you let them in so easily. They must have barely felt any satisfaction from such an easy catch.

You feel like crying for being so silly, but a voice in your head stops you. The voice in your head that picks you up whenever you fuck something up. Don't cry! Why would you cry?! They used you just as much as you used them! And they are not crying! So neither are you! You made a grown man cum on his pants by rubbing yourself a bit and an even grown-er man basically get on his knees to eat you out! So don't cry!

So you get out of the shower with another attitude, you are going to get a hold of the situation, you are going to get space between these men and yourself, and you are going to be just fine!

“Son of a bitch!” You exclaim when you see yourself in the mirror, if you had thrown yourself down the stairs there would be fewer bruises on your body. Well, not bruises, hickeys.

You huff getting out of the bathroom to get dressed, and then back to the bathroom to cover all the hickeys.

By divine grace, you make on time for work. You are exhausted, starving and if any of your coworkers spoke to you today just a bit out of tone, you would chew their arms off. But luckily, everything goes right.

At least, until you get back home, and the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, is a masked man standing in front of your door.

I guess it is a series now, I don't know where I'm going with it but there is still a couple of things I have thoughts about.

If you guys have any ideas or scenarios please, tell me hehe

And if you want me to tag you on the next part drop a coment 💗

[tinylilacbun]

Rafe bringing toddler reader to see Santa and she’s so deathly afraid of Santa that she’s screaming crying and rafe has to stand behind the camera with her Lovie trying to get her to smile but when that doesn’t work he has to get in the photo with her and he’s so unhappy about it but she relaxes

Traumatic Picture

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: reader is scared of santa, rafe being grumpy

⋆꙳•❅*🎄*❆•꙳⋆

The Camerons are currently decorating the Christmas tree, well mostly Sarah, Wheezie, and you while the others are sitting on the couch, Ward and Rose drinking a glass of wine, and Rafe is occupied on his phone.

He only sits here because his father used the bond Rafe has with you and sent you to ask him to join you all, knowing he won't say no to you.

As he lifts his gaze from his phone he sees how you're standing on your tiptoes, holding the star in your hand as you probably try to set it on top, which is impossible given how short you are.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up and walks over to you, reaching down under your armpits to hold you up.

You squeal and stick the star on top of the tree, clapping your hands excitedly and giggling when the others clap as well.

Rafe sets you back down on the ground, ruffling your hair before he gets back onto the couch, hearing his father's conversation with Rose.

"The mall closes next week until new year and we haven't gotten the chance to take Y/n for a picture with Santa, and we're busy the next days too." Rose sighs, taking a sip of her wine.

"What about Sarah?" Ward suggests but Sarah instantly cuts in, shaking her head.

"Hell no, I went with her last year and it was horror, she wouldn't stop crying while taking that picture." Sarah recounts last year's experience.

It is tradition that every Cameron kid gets at least one picture with Santa but somehow you're so scared of him that Sarah is sure you got a trauma from last year, and the picture never happened so hopefully this time it's gonna end differently.

Suddenly everyone looks at Rafe and he groans, throwing his head back.

That's how he finds himself waiting in line for a picture with Santa at the bustling mall, people in holiday rush to get presents that are on sale.

He's holding you firmly on his hip, scowling at everyone who looks at you both too long for his liking, rubbing your back with his free hand as you cling onto him and watch how children get their pictures, sucking on your pacifier furiously.

"A'ight, listen kid, we're gonna get this done quick, yeah? Just a picture and we're on our way home again. There's no reason to be scared." He tries to soothe you, bouncing you a little.

You nod your head, still unsure if you want to do this, the big man in red still giving you an uneasy feeling as you hear his deep laugh from where you're waiting.

Now it is your turn and you tense up when Rafe moves you to sit on Santa's lap, taking your pacifier out of your mouth as he pats your head, taking a few steps back.

You look up at the man with big eyes while he smiles down at you, his hand hovering behind your back in case you fall down. "Hello there, little one."

The tears instantly well up the second he talks to you in a deep voice, crying out loud. Santa stays in his role, the person in the costume already used to younger children being fussy or scared.

"Princess, look who I have here." Rafe tries to get your attention, standing beside the woman with the camera and holding your lovey above it.

Instead of calming you down it makes you sob even harder, making grabby hands for your brother, wanting him to save you from this scary situation.

"R-Rafey." You hiccup and the woman frowns, leaning closer to Rafe.

"Y'know, many kids feel safer when family members stand beside them." She tells him sweetly.

Rafe sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and reluctantly goes to stand at Santa's side behind you, leaning down to kiss your head to calm you down. "I'm here now, yea? Think you can be a big girl and smile just for a moment?"

You immediately calm down the moment you feel his presence behind you, letting him wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod.

Still sniffling you manage to form a smile, Rafe standing there with his usual grim expression, there's no way in hell he will smile with all those people present, it's already a surprise that he gets in the picture.

Luckily the process is quickly over and Rafe scoops you back up in his arms, handing you back your Lovey and pacifier as he makes his way to where he pays the printed out picture.

After he carries you outside and to his truck he takes a look at the picture. "If you tell Topper or Kelce about this I'll never let you sleep in my bed again." Oh yes he would.

You're too emotionally exhausted to give any response, nuzzling your face into his neck, feeling him kiss your head in reassurance.

"Proud of you, kid." He murmurs, opening the backdoor of his truck and buckling you in your car seat.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[irisintheafterglow]

just too soft for all of it

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: taylor swift - "sweet nothing"

summary: you only call bakugo when you need his body. what happens when you need him for a different reason? (prohero!bakugo x reader)

wc: 1.1k

cw/tags: fwb to lovers, no explicit smut (just implications and allusions but mdni just in case), descriptions of anxiety and a panic attack, angst/comfort with happy ending, swearing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, babe), broken glass, stubborn reader and even more stubborn katsuki

note: is this my coping mechanism for all the 'casual' inspired fics i've seen lately? possibly. will i continue to keep reading said 'casual' inspired fics? definitely. haven't written kats in a hot minute, hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

"I need you." 

"I'm busy. This new report shit is going to be the death of me, I swear–"

"I need you right now. Please." Your voice shakes and he mistakes it for horny desperation.

"Aww, you need me that bad? Need me to come and make you feel good, is that it?" He smirks patronizingly and you hear it through the phone, despite your vision going in and out of clarity.

"Katsuki," you breathe, and his hand goes deathly still over his paper. You never said his name like that; you always addressed him outside of the covers as 'Bakugo' or 'shithead' or 'asshole.' He hears you swallow, his senses finally returning and realizing just how exhausted you sound. "I can’t breathe–I think I'm...I think I'm having a panic attack and-and I can't calm down and it's–it's too much and–"

"Breathe, sweetheart," he says before you can continue, his hand flinging open his front door and blasting himself into the darkness. "Just hold on, I'm on my way." 

By the time he’s let himself into your apartment, it’s nearly midnight. He considers toeing off his shoes at the door but quickly decides against it when he spots the broken glass scattered across your dining room floor. You’re hugging your knees close to your chest, so backed up against the floor cabinets that he almost missed you when he looked for you in the kitchen. The glass crunches beneath his shoes as he crouches down to look at you, relief flooding him as he realizes the glass didn’t injure you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trembling even as he peels your arms away from your sides. “It just–I was making late dinner and one of my glasses broke and everything just came crumbling down…” He’d never seen you like this; you were always the collected one, the one who was always teasing him for being stressed when, in reality, you were just better about hiding all the weight on your shoulders. Your breath comes in short inhales and pained exhales and it’s like Katsuki’s body instinctually knows what to do. Taking your hands in his, he presses them against his chest at the exact spot where you can feel his heartbeat. It’s steady as a steam engine, thumping below your fingertips. In through the nose. Without breaking eye contact, he exhales a deep breath, nodding encouragingly when you copy him. Out through the mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he murmurs, breathing deeply again and again and again until your body ceases its fight or flight response. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Just keep breathing.” 

“Katsuki…” 

“We’ll talk after, I promise,” he gently reassures you, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. “For now, I need to make sure you’re okay.” In through the nose, out through the mouth. Even when he knows the situation is de-escalated, he doesn’t dare move his hands, nor stop modeling deep breathing. He waits for you to say that you’re done, to yank your hands away and mock him for being so caring and thoughtful, attributes that didn’t come with your strictly physical relationship. You don’t; you stay there on the floor with him until the tension in your body completely releases, leaving you slumped against your cabinets. You move to position your knees under you, but his hands catch your wrists a split second before your palms hit the floor. You glance at him with a confused expression. “The glass, babe. Lemme put you on the couch and I’ll clean it up.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can clean it when I’m–” You’re cut off by the sensation of being lifted off the ground, his arms effortlessly bringing you against his chest and laying you on your living room couch. “Wait, I can just clean once you leave."

“Stop,” he grumbles with a burst of intensity that takes you aback. “I’m gonna take care of you, so sit and wait until I’m done. Got it?” You blink at him but he doesn’t relent, and you’re forced to nod and wait as he meticulously sweeps and vacuums every single particle of glass until sleep is nudging at your eyelids. He’s just stuck your vacuum back in the closet as you muster up the energy to stand, stumbling in the direction of your room. “Fucking hell, you don’t know when to quit,” he mutters, sweeping your legs out from under you again and carrying you the rest of the way to your bed. 

“Who knew you could be so doting?” 

“You’re mocking me when I’m literally carting you around your own place. Unbelievable,” he scoffs, carefully settling you on the covers and taking a seat at the edge. 

“I’m not being sarcastic,” you reply, your eyelids sleepily opening and closing. “I really am surprised that you’re taking care of me like this.” 

“Of course I’m taking care of you, dumbass,” he grunts. “I know we said no attachment, but you’re more than a body to me.” His voice quiets but you hear it anyway, smiling against the pillow. 

“When were you gonna tell me that, idiot?”

“Not sure. Was waiting for the perfect moment.” He shrugs, reaching over to run his hand up and down the side of your thigh. 

“And you think this is it?” 

“It’s definitely not, but it felt like the right thing to say.” You hum in contentment and he slyly rubs his hand backward just to see what happens. 

“Easy there, cowboy,” you chuckle, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Even when I’m broken, you can’t resist grabbing my ass.” 

“You’re not broken. Don’t say that about yourself. And even if you were,” he scolds, though you know there’s no venom behind it. “Guess who’s gonna be the one to put you back together?” You hum again and he can feel your consciousness slipping. “You gonna let me stay the night, sweetheart?” 

“Is the sky blue, dumbass?”

“Just checking,” he grins, positioning himself beside you and flipping you over to face him. You groan in protest but still mold yourself into Katsuki’s chest, his arm securing you against his body. “G’night.”

“Night, Katsuki. Don’t let your alarm wake me up early or I’ll kick you in the dick,” you warn, your body further relaxing in his warm safety. 

“After everything I’ve done for you tonight? So ungrateful.” You snort, drifting off with a smile on your face that makes his heart stutter. He double checks that all his alarms are off and, for good measure, turns off his phone entirely. No one’s reaching him tonight, not when you’re his first priority. When he’s sure you’re out, he whispers the real reason why, even when it wasn’t a booty call, he rushed to you in the middle of the night. 

“Mmm,” you hum and he freezes, having no idea whether you were responding or just making that noise in your sleep. “I love you too, Katsuki.” 

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[justauthoring]

tears.

tears -> the blood of the soul; where the soul bleeds, you cry.

a/n -> okay can we PLEASE talk about that finaleeeee

pairing -> sanemi shinzagawa x f!reader

oddly, you're more afraid then you thought you'd be.

despite it all, you had believed you were prepared for it—the final battle. given that you'd been working towards this point since that fateful day you joined the demon slayers. years of training, of missions, of pouring blood and sweat and losing loved and cared ones that all lead to this battle.

and yet, you were afraid.

terrified, even, you think. if the shakiness of your hands are anything to go by, you'd venture to guess that yes, terrified sounded more accurate than just afraid. it feels like your heart hasn't stopped pounding against your chest since the hashira meeting nor that you've been able to properly catch your breath.

always short, always gasping—you're desperate for any sense of calm that won't come because the mind was cruel. and reality was even more so.

you'd faced death so many times now that you'd believed this one last, final time wouldn't matter as much. a necessary step that would decide fate once and for all. it was this last battle, you figured, that would decide who came out on top.

but maybe it isn't dying that scares you. yes, you think, it isn't that you're afraid of dying but that you're afraid of—

"i swear, none of those damn idiots will have the slightest clue on how to even begin training—"

it isn't abnormal for sanemi to come in complaining about something or another. what is odd is the tears he's faced with the second he walks in, lips left parted as he cuts himself off. the concern that floods his gaze is instant and all previous thoughts are gone from sanemi's mind as he rushes over to you.

"y/n?" his voice is soft in a way it only ever is with you and strangely, it makes your heart pound more frantically against your chest. "what's wrong?"

his hands are pressing against your cheeks, pulling your watery gaze steadily on his own. you feel your lip tremble and a shaky gasp pulls from your lips, beyond your control, the second your eyes focus in on his own.

you have half the mind to think that you should lie, that it's not fair to burden sanemi with your own childish fears. you do think it, but you lose your own battle the second you feel his thumb graze the skin of your cheek and take in the expression of worry and concern, blazingly present, in his eyes.

"i'm scared," you admit breathlessly. it's hard to admit, even to him, hard enough to even realize it subconsciously and the words feel wrong and like poison—yet, they're true all the same.

and your hands instinctively raise, pressing into him for any semblance of comfort you can steal from him. you haven't felt such terror since the day demons cruely ripped everything you hold dear from your hands—since you were coated in blood and forever petrified from the horrors of their corpses.

"i... i'm afraid of losing you."

it's a ghosted whisper—you don't want to say the words and put the pressure of that desperation on sanemi's shoulders. he has more than enough weight holding him down and you'd never want to add to it on purpose. but you're tongue is lose and your fear is blinding your rational thought and when he looks at you like that, you don't want to lie.

sanemi's hands are firm and never wavering, and as he cups your cheeks he forces you to refocus on him and solely him.

"y/n. y/n."

you stared at him with blurred vision, breath gasping and nails pinching into the clothe of his yukata; you grip him as if he'll disappear from your very touch that moment alone.

"y/n, look at me."

he's leaning, pressing his forehead against your own and swallowing your attention up so there's nothing but him to focus on.

"breathe," he guides, voice gentle but hoarse and rough. "you need to breathe."

you force yourself to listen. force yourself to inhale when he does, soothing yourself by following his movements until, slowly, the fog clears to allow you to see sanemi before you clearly. it still feels like you're short, still missing that last bit of air that would calm you, but it's better than it had been seconds prior and you savour the sanity of it completely.

"good," he praises, brushing your hair away from your face where it'd fallen.

you shake your head; "sanemi—"

"it's okay," he assures, the words just a little too rushed in a way that causes you to blink. it gives you the momentum to notice the slight, barely noticeable tremble of sanemi's hands against your cheeks or the echoing breaths he lets outs himself.

your eyes widen and you step towards him.

"i'm scared too," he admits.

it's admission that means more than anything else could've. in all your years of knowing sanemi, he's always chosen anger and passion over calm and truth. he'd never ever admit to anyone that he, the wind hashira, was scared of anything—he was all fire and strength, racing into battle with skill he'd bled over perfecting and came out the other side a winner.

he had the confidence to boost it. never wavering in his own ability.

so his admittance of fear is enough to pull you from your own racing thoughts and focus on the fear he lets slip—if anything, for your sake.

"but this is what we're trained for," he reminds, fingers brushing against your skin—soothing and a constant, pressing reminder of his presence. you're more than thankful for it. "and it's our duty as hashira to defeat muzan."

you nod, slow, unsure. "i know," you whisper, "i know. it's just..." and your grip tightens, knuckles white and hands still trembling, gripping his clothes in your palm and trying to be as close to him as possible. "i don't want to lose you."

"i don't want to lose you either," sanemi breathes.

you stare into his gray, swirling eyes, lips pressed tightly together.

"i can't promise you we'll make it through this, but know that i will fight like hell to get back to you."

you blink, the tears welling as his words mean more than sanemi could ever possibly know. despite it's brutal honesty, those words are exactly what you need to hear in that moment.

because there is no other option. sanemi is right when he says it's your duty and you have every intention of following through, even if it lead to your death — but the sincerity in his voice as he promises to do anything in his ability to see you on the other side...

it's all you need to hear.

"and i hope you'll do the same."

"of course," you nod, not wasting a second before assuring him of that fact. you press your forehead against his own, lips hovering before his, and sink into him as much as you possibly can. "of course i will. i promise."

he's nodding, the words loss on him as he relishes in your presence just as much as you have been his.

and then, when his lips press against your own, you savour it — not because it might be your last, but because it'll be your strength to make sure it isn't.