#i’ve mentioned it before in regards to kissing

[hythlodaes]

o.o

[peanutpinet]

Soft for You - Sylus x Fem Reader

Prompt: “Let me kiss it better”

A/N: yes, I’ve fallen into this rabbit hole and all because of Sylus. There’s just something about white haired men with red eyes that’s 190cm. Hates everyone but you T^T I’m such a sucker for these characters and it doesn’t help that I’m on my period so I decided to make a lil one shot of how Sylus would react if you’re on your period and wanting to cuddle but he was in an important meeting

Warning: None, just fluff (not proofread, sorry, was so into writing this)

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

“Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb the boss right now” Luke mentioned, trying to stop you from walking further down the hall

“Yeah, he’s in a meeting right now. And the meeting, well, it’s not really going that well” Kieran added on. “Some of the low workers were trying to steal his weapons and sell them off to a higher bidding at Linkon because we heard that Linkon is currently trying to find ways to get more intel regarding the boss”

You knew that Linkon was constantly trying to uncover the mysterious Onychinus’ leader. Though they knew his name, they couldn’t find anything regarding what he looked like or any other information about him. That’s why Linkon is willing to pay a hefty amount to those who have been associated with him to gather any sort of intel. But you could care less about what political issue was going on between Linkon and Onychinus. What you cared about was that you were in pain because of your period and you wanted to cuddle with Sylus because somehow, he always helped ease your pain.

Not caring about the twins’ warning, you managed to drag yourself all the way in front of Sylus’ meeting room where you could clearly hear his deep voice echoing along with several other voices. It sounded like the meeting had just begun and you suddenly contemplated on going in and disturbing Sylus just to tend to your pain.

However, on the other side of the door, Sylus already knew that you were in front of the door along with Luke and Kieran since he could see through Mephisto’s eyes with his aether core. Though Sylus wouldn’t mind you coming in, he wanted you to come to him first instead of jumping to conclusion that you were actually looking for him.

He learnt that from past incidents where you were actually looking for Luke and Kieran but Sylus jumped into conclusions and thought you were looking for him.

Right as Sylus was about to start the meeting, he could hear both Luke and Kieran’s frantic voices calling out to you. Without uttering a word, Sylus got up but not before making sure the men in the room stay put in their designated chairs. “None of you get up from the chair or I’ll rip your legs apart from your whole body”

After his calm threat, Sylus went to the door and opened it to find you on the ground with both Luke and Kieran holding onto you. When the twins looked up at their boss, the colour from their faces were slowly drained. “B-boss” the twins managed to utter out as Sylus looked at your weak state, basically trying to hold yourself up with the help of the twins.

Without saying anything, Sylus crouched down and lifted you up in his arms and practically carried you into the meeting room where all the other men in the room were staring.

“U-uh boss? We can bring her back to her room and…” the twins didn’t get to finish their sentences as Sylus used his evol to close and lock the door

To say the men in the room were shock was an understatement because who would have thought that the Onychinus leader could be so gentle towards anyone yet here he was sitting in his chair, further away from the others with you on his lap.

“S-sylus?” you uttered, looking up to see your boyfriend looking at you with soft eyes

“You alright, sweetie? I heard you from in here. You looked like you were going to pass out in the twins’ arms. What happened, sweetie? Did someone hurt you?” Sylus asked, his eyes were searching through your entire body for any wounds but you shook your head and leaned on his chest, wrapping your small arms around his waist

“No. It’s that time of the month. It’s the first day and I don’t know why but it’s painful this time” you whined and Sylus couldn’t help but coo at your vulnerable state that he brought you closer to his chest (if that was even possible with how close the two of you were).

“Shhh, it’s alright sweetie. I’m here” Sylus kissed the top of your head as you hummed in satisfaction. “Sleep sweetie, I’ll be here when you wake up, hmm? I’ll try to keep the meeting short and quick for you” Sylus mentioned as he lulled you to sleep

As he stroked your head like a kitten, Sylus the softie was gone as his eyes looked through the entire room with a cold, sharp gaze that if looks could kill, everyone in the room would be dead by now. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Where’s my share in the sales, gentlemen? Or did you think that you could fool me that easily by selling my weapons at a higher price by giving away some information about me?”

***

By the end of the meeting, there was practically no one in the room as Sylus dismissed them all into thin air since he needed to be quick.

Sylus almost cursed at himself for almost going too far with the lowlife men in the room until he remembered that you were practically sleeping in his arms.

Taking a deep breath, Sylus went back to look at your sleeping figure, stroking your head as he kissed your forehead before teleporting both you and him back to the master bedroom where Sylus laid you on the bed.

Leaving you to sleep, Sylus decided to shower and cook up something quick and easy for dinner which was steak and creamy mushroom soup to help ease your pain.

In the midst of finishing his cooking, he heard soft footsteps and a yawn slowly getting louder which he knew that it had to be you. Turning around, Sylus saw your now awaken figure sitting by the counter where Sylus was just behind of.

“Here you go, sweetie” Sylus mentioned, placing down a plate of steak with the mushroom soup he made in front of your sleeping figure

“Thank you, Sy. Am sorry I interrupted your meeting” you yawned, drinking some of the soup that he made while Sylus decided to eat across from you

“It was nothing, sweetie. I’ve mentioned it before. If you ever need me, just come to me. No matter where I am, who am I with, or what time of the day it is. I’ll always be here for you” Sylus mentioned, caressing your cheek whilst wiping the excess soup at the corner of your lips

“But what would those men do now they’ve seen your soft side?” you asked, holding his hand that was on your cheek

“They’re none of your concern. Besides, they won’t be able to spread anymore information anymore” Sylus smirked, making you roll your eyes. “You and your evol”

Chuckling at your behaviour, Sylus decided to feed you the dinner he made. “Are you still in pain?” he asked

Thinking about it for a second, you decided to tease him. “A bit. Mainly because you only kissed my head when the pain I’m feeling is at my stomach”

Shaking his head, Sylus went around the counter and cupped your jaw, making you look at his tall figure. “Is that so? Then let me kiss it better”

[rafescvntyclubgf]

"𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥" - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15k

5.8K

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.

Rafe’s POV:

“You ready, baby?” I murmur as I stretch out my legs, watching as she walks into the water nice and slow. Her hands relax at her sides, skimming the brisk water. She wanders out into the lake just above her hips, diving into the deep as I take off for my morning run, watching her from afar as I always do.

She glides across the lake, moving fast. I pick up the pace as well, trying to get to my regular spot on the trail before turning around with her. I used to tell myself I was just out for a run, but that’s a lie. Telling the boys it was simply part of my morning routine, but who am I kidding? It’s all for her.

It’s the only time I get to see her without her guard up; she’s been on edge all summer ‘cause of me. I know. I pushed her away…further, if that’s even fuckin’ possible. Made her feel unsafe in her favorite place. This fuckin’ hell hole…

Every stroke she takes pulls her farther from the beach. She’s a strong swimmer, but why the fuck is she out here all alone? What if she gets tired? What if something happens? She needs me.

And I need her. Fuck, I need her so damn bad.

This is my last weekend. I’ve wasted every possible second. I gotta make this right, even if I just get to apologize. I don’t want her to hate me even though I’ve given her every right to. I’m an idiot. I always get in my own way. I’m a goddam asshole. And this summer just highlighted that tenfold. She’s amazing. She’s so good at what she does: with the kids, with her friends. She lights up every room she walks into, and here I am, snuffin’ her out at every turn.

Y/n’s beautiful. Fuck, she’s stunning. Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I feel my heart break a little more. There’s somethin’ about her here, too. Maybe it’s the lake. Maybe it’s the summer heat. But I can’t help but picture the two of us out on my boat, her sun-kissed skin and the glimmer of the open water shining on her hair. I can’t help but think about how pretty she’d look in her little bikini, lying on my chest as we unwind on the boat deck, rolling with the waves.

That could have been us.

How did I get this deep into summer without telling her I was sorry, without admitting how cruel I was? Without telling her just how much I think about her? I had all this time, and I wasted it being angry and cold, being a fucking coward.

When I leave, she’ll finally get to relax. She might lift her head for the first time all summer and actually look around, seeing someone who’s gonna treat her like a princess. There’s plenty of guys here. She might fall in love with someone… and she deserves to. She has the right to be happy. I want to be the one that makes her happy. I can’t keep watching her from a distance. What do I have to lose anyway? I’ve already made an utter ass of myself. I’m at rock bottom.

I need to tell her I’m sorry… for everything. I need to let her know how I feel.

I stand at the lake's edge, watching as she swims into shore. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. I study her carefully, watching the little rivers of water roll down her curves. God, she kills me. I draw a deep, ragged breath as she runs her hands through her hair, pawing out the water. I can’t take my eyes off her… I don't want to. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Damn, this morning is hittin’ harder than ever. Morning after morning, I could have made a move, choosin’ the wrong one each time. What about now? Her guard’s down, she’s relaxed. Y/n’s alone without any eyes on her that’ll question her sanity for talkin’ to me. Maybe she’ll hear me out. Fuck me. No…

I watch Kie walk through the sand toward her. Y/n smiles brightly at her friend, a genuine smile I haven’t seen in months. Kiara says something that makes y/n laugh. Carrera is gonna give me well-deserved hell if I even try to get close. I have to get her alone. I need her to know I mean it. I need her to know that I’ve thought about her for months and haven’t stopped. I’ve gotta convince her I'll be a better man if she gives me half a chance. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll be the kinda guy that deserves her. I’m gonna make this right.

𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉…

Reader’s POV:

“And just like that… fire,” Pope smiles up at you proudly. Your little crowd claps for him as he rises to his feet, giving you all a playful bow. Sarah fiddles with the speakers, pulling up a playlist as the rest of the counselors filter in toward the beach. Free Weekend is the one summer weekend where the camp counselors get to cut loose— a family weekend where all the kids head home for a few days, returning on Monday to finish the last half of the summer. You breathe deeply, looking out onto the calm, dark waters. It’s quiet, peaceful, serene. But that won’t last long. These small moments remind me why I love this place so much.

Pope crashes down on the sand next to you with a beer, passing one your way as JJ blazes up a joint on your other side. “God damn, this place gives me the creeps,” JJ rasps through a smoke-graveled grunt.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad my ass,” JJ scoffs. “You don't think we all know the stories? Shit’s spooky.”

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky I guess,” you breath as you wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself a little tighter. Camp Salem was a pure joy during the day: bright and full of life, kids screaming and running around, birds chirping, energy buzzing. But at night, that light gets wiped out completely, the place changing entirely. A thick blanket of darkness falls on everything: the sky, impossibly dark, tall trees looming, shadows shifting all around.

Free Weekend always seemed a little more ominous. When the kids left it felt like they took the life with them. It didn’t help that the camp counselors loved to stoke the fires of fear, telling stories about what happened all those years ago when this was Camp Kildare. Free Weekend… Fourteen Counselors slaughtered at the hands of some campy-80’s-movie-esque slasher. It was bullshit. Nonetheless, those stories stuck in the back of your mind.

The lake shimmers under the moonlight, its reflection painted across the deep waters. The large fire casts embers into the sky, floating away into the distance, a red hue mixing with the stars twinkling in the sky above. The party starts to surge around you—still, no sign of Rafe. You bite at your lip nervously, trying to focus on the conversation between the pogues, but you can’t help but catch yourself looking out for him. You peer through the deep woods that line the beach, cabins set just behind, darkness, and trees swallowing up the rest of your view.

It had been a long summer with Rafe. He took out his frustration in the worst way. Who would have thought he would be so bad at managing his emotions? You laugh to yourself at the ridiculousness of that thought. He was such a dick. So, impossibly mean. I'm patient; still hanging onto our time together by a thread. But I’ve had about enough.This is his last weekend here. His probationary hours are all but complete. His worry about getting kicked out of the frat finally squared up. Even though he’s an asshole, there's this part of me that wants him to stay. What’s wrong with me?

Your stomach flutters as you hear his voice. Rafe walks down the little pathway with Kelce and Top, laughing about something. Rafe punches Thornton playfully, rough enough to make him stumble, the blonde already drunk. Kiara huffs out a disheartened breath, seeing the trio. The three shuffle through the sand, making their way to the fire.

Rafe sits down, trying to act casual, but there’s obviously something on his mind today more than the rest. He’s snuck a few more glances than usual; his stare a little more pensive than his usual glare.

The bonfire casts flickering shadows across his sharp, tight jawline. He leans closer, flexing his arm muscles unknowingly, straining his sun-soaked t-shirt. Rafe takes off his hat, running his hands through his hair, turning it backward instead, letting you see his beautiful eyes. His gaze shifts to yours, catching you staring, but this time you keep your focus on him. Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, sizing you up but not in the way he has been— with kinder eyes.

The air between you thickens more, building from the moment you saw him watching you at the lake. For a split second, you thought he was about to break. But when Kie came over, everything changed. He walked away reluctantly, it seemed. What if he was going to apologize? Maybe I’m overthinking it.

You smile softly, hoping to ease the pressure, and like some dream state, he smiles back slightly, the corners of his perfect lips curling up; his eye flutter, the man unsure if he believes it himself.

Holy shit.

Rafe’s POV:

Is that a smile? Oh my god. I feel like I have to pinch myself. That… that’s a real smile. Her smile. Just as I hit my high I'm struck down again. My stomach twists as I watch an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. She giggles that sweet fucking giggle, rolling her stunning eyes away at what Heyward has to say. Pope? You fucking kidding me? My heart shatters. Why wouldn’t he go after her? Why wouldn’t she have people pinning after her? I knew it would fucking happen… I knew that she would find someone. But how did I not see this coming? Is this a new thing? Don’t tell me I’m watching the start of their fuckin’ relationship. I’ll lose my goddamm mind. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling myself right on the brink of a breakdown, seconds away from crashing out completely.

I underestimated just how hard this would be… Seeing her with someone else. Pope Heyward... Fuck that guy. He has no business being that close to her. My blood boils at the thought of him having what I yearn for—getting my girl. My chest tightens with anxiety, making my labored breathing that much harder. She’s too smart. That smile toward me meant nothing… Topper was right all those months ago. She’s done with me. She deserves better. She found better. Fuck everything. If she hates me, fine. At least she feels something for me.

Reader’s POV:

��I’m gonna get a beer. Anyone want anything?” You ask as you rise to your feet. JJ holds up two fingers, gesturing for two beers as the rest is waves you off with a ‘thank you’ and a smile. You foot through the sand, heading toward the coolers on the fringe of the woods. Leaning over you snag three, turning around, gasping as you bump right into Rafe’s big chest.

“Three, huh?” He cracks up.

“They’re obviously not all for me.”

“Obviously,” he taunts. “Drinkin’ three beers would require you to pull that stick outta your ass, and we both know you’d never do that. Now, would you?” You suck your teeth and step around him, but he strides in your path, letting out another laugh, getting off on making you uneasy. “Ain’t it exhausting being such a goodie-two shoe? Don’t even get me started on what a prude bitch you are-”

”Enough,” you shout. Pope, JJ, and John B stand up instantly, staring in your direction; posturing—challenging Rafe to mess with you again.

“Wait… Wait a damn minute. Are you fuckin’ all three of ‘em?” He whispers cruelly, close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your neck. “You’re a fuckin’ whore. Aren’t you?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Leave me alone,” he mocks your voice, reaching out his big hand, hooking his finger around your belt loop, pulling you in. “You don't want that. You love this shit. Bet’you're soaked, princess.”

“You’re pathetic, Rafe.”

“Have fun with your boyfriends, sweetheart. I'm sure it’ll be a long night for a slut like you. You got three holes for a reason. Ain’t that right?”

“You’re a pussy, Rafe.”

“‘S’cuse me?” He snorts out a little chuckle. “What was that now?”

“You heard me. Can't say you're sorry. Can't admit you like me… You’re a fuckin’ pussy and everyone knows it.”

“M’not,” he whisper, swallowing hard, thrown off completely, trying to regain the upper-hand. “I can’t wait to leave this shit hole— then I don’t have to see your priss-ass every day.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Cameron.” You push past him, walking toward the fire as you scrunch your nose, holding back tears of frustration as the pogues look back up at you. You pass JJ his beers before cracking open one of your own, quickly downing it; plucking the joint out of Maybank’s fingers next.

“Rough night. Huh?” JJ asks, making your group laugh as he states the blatantly obvious.

”Just gotta get through tonight,” you sigh through a sticky cloud of weed smoke. Pope scoots a little closer, lessening the space between you. He looks down at you with warm eyes, giving you a soft, sweet smile. It had been a fun summer with him so far; there was no denying Pope’s boyfriend material, but there’s a piece of your heart that’s holding you back…

You look across the fire, watching as Rafe talks with his friends. He chuckles between sips of beer, seemingly unaffected by your exchange, an arrogant swagger in his body language letting you know that he still know, regardless of where the two of you stand, he has your focus. Rafe looks your way, catching you red-handed. He smirks at you, continuing to torture you without words at all.

“Hey,” Pope breathes as he rests his large hand on your thigh, guiding your eyes back to him. “Forget about him. Alright. He’s just a dick… Always been a dick.” Pope keeps his hand sat, rubbing his thumb lazily, keeping you grounded. You give him a soft smile and a nod.

You’re trying your best not to look, but when you turn your attention to Kie, her eyes are focused in Rafe’s direction. She chuckles delightedly and shakes her head, obviously amused with something. You turn your attention to Rafe, watching him watch youl, his body language quickly betraying him. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, lips pressed into two thin lines, as his eyes cut into you like daggers.

“Looks like someone’s night took a turn,” Kiara chuckles. You laugh as well; a mixture of excitement and nerves. Your laughter and smile making the tensions between the two of you heighten even more.

“I mean… We could have fun with this.” JJ hums against the lip of his beer bottle before taking a swig.

“This is a bad idea,” Kie warns.

“Of course it is. Stupid things have good outcomes all the time... You know that, Kie. Now, who of us does he hate the most?” Everyone in your group raises their hand, causing more laughter.

”Honestly, it seems like Pope,” John B adds.

“‘Course it does,” Pope clips. “You in?” He cocks his eyebrow at you mischievously.

Why not? You nod and smile as you lean into him, resting your hand on his cheek as you brush your thumb along his bottom lip. “He’s gonna kill you,” you coo. But to Rafe and the other kooks it looks like you’re mumbling sweet nothings to Heyward. Giddy energy courses around you as the group feeds off of Rafe’s growing rage.

“Yeah - What’s new?” Pope mumbles as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips meet, sharing breath with you. “We don’t have to kiss. It’s alright. I'm sure this is enough-” You steal Pope’s words off his lips as you press yours against his in a deep, searing kiss. You let your mouth move with Pope’s, relishing in the moment of peace, knowing this would bring nothing but drama. The pogues hoot and hollar. You pull away slowly, the two of you looking back at each other, unable to deny that the kiss was great regardless of the situation.

“Yeah, that was hot. He’s pissed,” JJ blurts, making the reality of the situation sink in fast.

Holy Shit.

JJ leans into the campfire, a broad, sinister smile painted on his lips as he prepares to tell the story of ‘84, laying on the theatrics thick. “Sit back and relax. Grab a beer. Let me tell you about what happened here.”

“That rhymed,” John B. smiles and nods, elbowing JJ, who smiles proudly.

"M’a storyteller. What can I say? Well, it was the summer of ‘84… At this here camp,” he drawls as he motions his hands around the fire, catching everyone’s eyes. “Camp Kildare… Camp Kill. It was Free Weekend, just like tonight—a warm summer even, such as this. The counselors were young, carefree, horny-“ He lets his voice get swallowed up in the cat-calls of the crowd. “No one noticed the counselors gettin’ picked off one-by-one, everyone figured they were just couples slippin’ away for some advanced cuddling in the bunks. But then, a few too many started to disappear. Ain't no way all of ‘em were bangin’ one out. I mean, the kids are gone. Right? It’s quiet and eerie. Losing thirteen people is a little hard to ignore. First was Max. He ran up to the mess hall fridge to snag a keg. The next were Joy and Casey, who slipped away for a quickie in cabin five. After that, odd shit started happening left and right.”

“People started separating from the rest, only to get slane brutally. One lone counselor remained: Peggy Dates. They found her the next day, fightin’ for her life around what little remained of her fellow counselors, all slashed to pieces. In the middle of the welcome sign, they found an axe, buried deep in the lumber, dripping with the blood of thirteen…”

“Now we all know them filthy kooks only want one thing, and one thing only: cash money. I’m ass at math, so don’t quote me on this, but twenty years ago they decided to open the camp again, giving it a new name, thinkin’ no one would notice. But it’s hard to ignore it… There’s evil here. You can feel it— hear it. See it,” he whispers just above the crackling of the fire as he points toward the inky black woods.

“The Kildare Slasher is still wandering out there, just waitin’… So if you see a man walking around the timbers in a ripped plaid shirt, wielding an axe, just run. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” JJ screams, making the crowd around the fire shout with terror and thrill. You lean into Pope and him into you, cuddling closer.

Rafe’s eyes drill into you from across the fire, his focus never leaving you, frustration, confusion, rage, all but boiling over as he scowls at you, wearing his possessiveness on his sleeve. Ever since everything went down, he never had to fight for your attention; he always had it, even if you weren't talking. He was never worried about someone taking you because, at the end of the day, he knew how hung up you were on him.

But tonight burned. He hated seeing someone else get your attention. He hated seeing someone else making you laugh and smile. His lip twitched with anger, fists tightening as he watched your fingers lace into Pope’s. And in that moment, you saw him physically holding himself back, every fiber of his being wanting to storm across the fire and take back what was his.

Instead, he sits there and stews some more, plotting his next move. He smiles smugly; his next plan of attack coming sooner than he hoped as he watches Zoey Peters stand up from her makeshift seat on a log. She brushes off shorts, the curves of her plump ass poking out of the bottom of her cut-offs; tits spilling out of the top of her shirt. Rafe’s tongue pokes in his cheek. You watch him, his calculated daze morphing into a come-hither stare. Zoey takes the bait effortlessly, strolling toward Rafe with a smile. He looks up at her from his seat on the cooler; the beautiful blonde slotting herself between his thighs, his hand instantly resting dangerously high on the back of her thighs.

He gives her a cocky smile, mumbling something charming that makes her giggle. Rafe grabs her hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. His eyes fall down her body, landing on her perfect tits, drifting higher ‘til they set on her full, glossed lips. Fuck, he’s an asshole. It’s so clear he’s doing the same thing I am… His eyes dance between the two of you as they chat. He’s so obvious about it; it’s maddening. He’s really trying to fuck with me like he hasn’t already been doing that ALL fucking summer. His large hand gropes her bare thigh as he leans in, whispering something in her ear, making her turn away bashfully. I can’t help but feel the sting; déjà vu hitting hard. Whatever…

“You wanna go down to the water?” You ask Pope, who looks over at you with a smile.

“I’d love that.” He grabs your hand, helping you to your feet, the two of you shuffling down the beach toward the lifeguard house. You step through the cool sand, leaving the warmth of the party to a place more private. “So?” Pope looks down at you, saying so much with a single word.

“So?” You sigh, tipping your heavy head on his shoulder, your body relaxed from the liquor and smoke, not too much, just the perfect buzz.

“How long until Cameron’s stomping over here asking ‘what the hell are you doing-”

"Where the fuck are you two goin’?" Rafe spats. Pope laughs weakly, the comedy and predictability of it all too much. Pope’s fingers twine into yours, silently letting you know that he’s not afraid. “What are you doin’ Huh?”

"Just hanging out, Cameron. What does it matter to you?” Pope challenges. “Don’t you have a girl? Where’s Zoey?”

“Oh, fuck off, Heyward. We both know why I was talkin’ to her. Aight? Now I’m gonna ask you one more fuckin’ time. What are you doin’ with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Pope laughs. “You’re joking? Are you his girl, Y/n?” You look up at Pope confusedly, shrugging like you’re unsure, just fucking with Rafe at this point. “We all know the answer to that,” Pope mocks. “You’ve been harassin’ her all year; been a fuckin’ asshole to her all summer. ‘Course you’re not-”

“You’re not gonna talk to her ever again. You understand?”

“She’s my friend,” Pope scoffs. “Of course, I’m gonna talk to her, you fuckin’ psychopath… We done?”

“Far from it,” Rafe laughs.

“You wanna be done, sweetheart? We don’t need to do this with him,” Pope looks down at you with a glint in his eye, using a pet name to stiffen the blow.

“Call her sweetheart again. Please,” Rafe pleads maniacally; an unhinged look in his eye as he stares backs at the two of you.

”You hard of hearing, sweet cheeks?” Pope smiles making Rafe lose all control.

“FUCK OFF, POPE. THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND HER!” Rafe shouts. His voice thundering in your chest, fists clenched at his sides, as he steps into Pope’s space.

“You just want her ‘cause she’s with me, man. You don’t care about her.”

”Don’t fuckin’ speak for me,” Rafe barks, the two standing head to head, preparing to fight as the kooks and pogues run down the beach toward the three of you. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT’S MINE, BITCH?" Pope swings, striking Rafe in the jaw, surprising you both; knuckles against flesh, making him struggle back, holding his face. Your hands clamp over your mouth in shock as the beach floods with panic. Kelce, Topper, John B, and JJ jump in as well; a barrage of big bodies going at it, blow-for-blow.

The light from the campfire in the distance is your only source of light as you and Kie do your best to pry the boys off each other. Rafe regains his footing, wiping the blood from his lips, his piercing blue eyes brimming with fury. He runs forward, tackling Pope to the ground, the two grappling in the sand. "RAFE, ENOUGH. STOP!” You shriek as he gets the upper hand completely, pounding Pope into the beach.

Kelce grabs Rafe by the back of his shirt, yanking him off before he can do any more damage—Rafe fights against his hold, barking threats at Pope as Kelce holds him back. ”STAY AWAY FROM HER, HEYWARD. STAY THE FUCK AWAY.”

You pout your lip, looking into Pope’s beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, blotting away the blood on his cheek. He sucks his teeth, eyes pinching shut in pain. "Well, that went about as well as expected,” Kie groans, giving JJ a side-eye as he glides his tongue along some paper, rolling up a joint.

“I had a great night. What are you talkin’ about?” JJ smiles, his lip split and bloody, one of his eyes swollen shut. You cup his cheek in your hand, looking back at him regretfully as you sigh.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow. Maybe we should have avoided the whole make-him-jealous thing. Don’t you think?”

“Our first mistake was listening to Maybank,” Pope whispers, making JJ scoff.

“Talkin’ shit… Damn, Pope. You’re on a roll tonight, baby. Didn't you throw the first punch too, man? Proud of you-”

”He did,” you answer for him, pressing the bandaid against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Pope.”

“It was my pleasure, truly. I hate the guy. Got to say my piece. Got to get under his skin. Maybank was right. This is a great night,” he smiles. “Definitely worth a scrape or two.

“Or three…”

“Rafe deserves to hear all the shit he put you through… M’guessing you still wanna be with him?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ but the whole room knows you’re lying. “That's not true-”

“Liar, liar. Pants on fire,” JJ mutters through his exhale. “Very, very questionable taste in men but we've come to terms with it.”

“Have we?” John B laughs weakly, picking the joint off JJ’s fingers before resting it between his lips.

“I don't know... Kie was right all along. He’s a-”

“Walking red flag,” the room chants in unison.

“Mhmm… He is. He’s a mess,” you sigh.

“But…” JJ mocks you, waiting for you to continue the words you're too embarrassed to say aloud. I still want him.

“Ya know… He said that the three of us were “doing it.”

“Yo… It as in sex?” JJ blurts as he chokes on his smoke. “I am so in.” You roll your eyes and laugh, returning your attention to Pope again.

“Thank you for tonight.” He smiles at you sweetly, taking your hands in his.

“Anytime, Y/n-”

”Hey.” The five of you turn toward the noise as Zoey peers inside, searching the room before meeting your gaze. “Have you seen Paisley?” She asks worriedly.

“Uh, yeah,” Kie mumbles. “Cabin four with Trevor, what, like thirty minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Zoey giggles, putting two-and-two together. “Maybe I’ll give her a bit.”

Pope hops off the counter, wincing slightly as he adjusts his body to stand straight, his muscles aching. “Let me walk you to your cabin.” You smile and nod, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you walk down the row of cabins, the strain of the evening somehow lessened, leaving everything a little lighter. Pope pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you again, Pope,” you mumble against his chest, listening to the soft pattering of his heart. “I’m sorry about all this.”

He breathes out a deep breath with you before shrugging and smiling warmly. “You’re my friend, y/n. And good news for you, I love you more than I hate him. So...”

“Love you too. You’re too good to me, Pope.”

“I know,” he grins as he rocks back on his heels, trying not to laugh. “If you need me, just holler, okay? Knowing Cameron he’s not done… Be careful with him.” Pope kisses your forehead before pulling back, looking down at you with a smile. “Have a great night.”

“You too.” You watch as Pope walks away, disappearing into the night toward his cabin. Reaching for your walkie-talkie, you pull it out of your pocket, lifting it to your lips. “Be safe,” you smile.

“I’ll be so safe,” he chuckles.

“Let me know when you get back. I don’t want you to get got by some slasher.”

”Stop, you’re scarin’ me,” he whimpers dramatically.

“Fuck!” You squeak as you're grabbed by your arm. You swing around, meeting Rafe’s gaze, slapping him across the cheek without a second thought. His face snaps to the side; hissing in pain.

“I deserve that,” he mutters before clearing his throat, returning his eyes to yours.

“I fucking hate you, Rafe,” you huff as you swerve around him, walking toward the stairs, but he grabs your arm, pulling you toward him again.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs as he backs you into the cold wooden wall of the cabin. It’s true… it’s not just lip service; I fucking hate him. I hate the way I can’t get over him, the way he’s constantly on my mind even when he treats me like absolute dog shit. I hate that I still like him. “Leave, Rafe.”

“Will you just stop? Please… I’m trying to talk to you. I've been trying to talk to you all day.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Why would I after everything you’ve done?” Rafe’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, towering over you, but he’s never been more powerless.

“I’m trying to make things right—”

“Make things right? Well you're shit at that, Rafe. Hurting me wasn't enough. You moved onto my friends?” You lift your hands, shoving him once, banging your fists against his chest next. “And for what, Rafe? Because you were angry? Because you wanted to prove something? You kept saying I'm yours? I never have been because of you. You didn't want me to be ‘til it was too late. Harassing me for months, then having the audacity to say ‘I belong to you’? Even when we were dating, you couldn't do that. Did you even see what you did to Pope?”

His eyes darken, jaw clenching. “I didn’t want to—”

“He never did anything to deserve that. He stood up for me and said nothing but the truth.” Rafe exhales sharply, looking at the ground as he searches for the right words. “Speak.”

“I was angry. Okay? You were trying to make me jealous. He - Fuck. He was provoking me.”

“Provoking you, Rafe? How?”

“Stop acting like you don’t know!” He shouts, his voice booming through the dim. The summer air hangs thick with tension as he steps closer, voice rising in desperation. “This isn’t some joke to me like it is to them, y/n. They think it’s funny, playing these games, dangling you in front of me to make me jealous. Kissing you, touching you like he did just to piss me off. Trying to make my life hell. I'm already there. I’m miserable!” His voice breaks with the bitterness and pain spilling out of him. “And there the pogues are, laughing at me, pushing me until I snapped. I didn't want to do that. All I wanted was to talk to you.”

“They didn’t make you do anything. You chose to snap. You decided to hurt people because you couldn’t handle your own shit, Rafe.”

“It’s impossible when I see you with other people—”

“And so you lashed out?” You ask, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not how you fix anything. You hurt people who care about me because you couldn’t control yourself.”

“This whole situation is pushing me and I can't fucking take it.”

“Yeah? Well, this situation, this mess… you made this on your own. Don’t you dare try to blame my friends or Pope for your misery.”

“Are you and Heyward really a thing? Really? I need to know. Alright?”

“You don't get to know. Leave me alone, Rafe.” You do your best to push him off of you, but he cages you in, looking down at you with begging eyes. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He shakes his head. ‘No,’ his jaw muscles coiled, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotion.

“I can’t…” He whispers. “I can’t leave you alone, y/n. I—I came to apologize. For everything. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did: tonight, here, this year… ever. I’m just—I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”

“That’s all you have? An apology?” You ask weakly. “We’re so far past this, Rafe. You know how much awful shit you’ve said to me just today?”

“I know. I know - god, I fucking know. I replay it over and over, y/n… I know I’ve been a jerk. Okay? I know I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I like you. I like you a lot. Then I fucked everything up and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away. If I kept my distance and acted like I didn’t care, it would be easier for you and me, but it’s not. It’s killing me. I'm sorry, princess-”

“Stop.”

“No. Please just-”

“I said STOP!” You shout in frustration, loud enough to make him flinch. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Rafe. You’re leaving in the morning. It’s for the best.” Your words come out harsher than intended, making his tears slip down his cheeks. “I don’t want to do this with you anymore. The jabs to my heart, the bullying, the mixed signals—I’m fucking done, Rafe. I’m done with you. So just go. It’ll be easier if you’re gone. You're toxic and for some reason I can't get over you. So you gotta go. I want you to go. I’m sure you can’t fucking wait. Just give it a day or two. Huh? You’ll be back on campus; back to your old ways. Sleeping with some beautiful sorority girl and you’ll forget all about me and my priss ass.”

He looks at you blankly, taking in every word, falling apart in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, like a broken record.

“I’d hope you’d be, Rafe.

His eyes soften on yours; nostrils flaring as he brushed the tear off his face. “Y’know, tomorrow when you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he whispers, voice cracking with sadness.

“I’m counting on it.”

[pandoraspurgatory]

seeing your hc of katsuki being into vanilla homemade porn has me dazy eyed 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫….. i’m so curious now if there were any specific porn creators you thought of when envisioning what he liked? or any who you think would fuck like katsuki? goodness… 😵‍💫

Turbulent

Truthfully I am not a porn watcher as I am a porn reader, so that question is far beyond my knowledge lol. Though I’ve written an in depth version of Katsuki watching porn, hope you enjoy<3

Katsuki Bakugo can’t get off on mainstream porn, though something changes when he finds a couples homemade video

Katsuki Bakugo likes vanilla porn, masturbation, cum, pretty vanilla here, mentions of facefucking + cuckholding, Denki and Mineta are bitchless

Katsuki never cared enough nor paid much attention to porn, stroking himself in his bedroom wasn’t worth the effort when he could spend his time training and honing his skills as a 3rd year student close to graduating.

Either it was that, or the fact that he just couldn’t cum from it.

He first gave it watching porn a go when Denki and Mineta spent the afternoon yapping about different genres of porn. He wasn’t an eavesdropper, though he listened in on the conversation, taking notes for a later date.

Bakugo only ever found himself rubbing one out when he woke up with a painful hard on, or got so worked up over some fantasy that he couldn’t get his dick back down.

That same night Katsuki sat infront of his laptop, legs open and pants discarded on the carpeted floor, a bottle of lotion splayed out on the bed next to him. He opened up the first website that appeared after typing ‘porn’ in his browser, incognito mode on of course, he had double checked. Hastily typing what he had overheard in the orange and black search bar.

‘Face fucking’

He grimaced as he clicked on the first video of some Internet whore with a fat cock stuffed down her throat. Mascara running down her face as she started her assault of sucking on the comically large dick. He could somewhat imagine himself doing it, though the drool and mess was a massive turnoff that made him feel sticky just watching it. Next

‘Cuckholding’

The moment it appeared on his screen after searching a lot made sense regarding Denki and Mineta. Of course they were into this shit, why the fuck did he even decide to listen on to those morons conversation. He was confident he could never be into this. Next

The next hour was filled off him stroking his half erect cock to mediocre videos with no luck. He’d even watched the top most recommended on the site, the drum beat before each video posing as a reminder that this wasn’t working. At this point it wasn’t even to get himself off, but rather to prove to himself he could find a video to do it for him.

None of this shit on his laptop could even remotely turn him on, there was no love or intimacy, just videos of devoid eyes and lacklustre movements that screamed ‘I want to get home and get my paycheck!’.

He hated to admit it, though he couldn’t ever imagine himself having a one night stand or watching these emotionless videos again. Despite his rough and calloused nature, he craved intimacy just as much as he craved to be the best in his class. Katsukis cock lay limp in his hand as he scrolls through the videos, more and more loading after each roll of the laptop mouse.

That was until a certain video caught his eye.

‘Our first video - couple homemade’ 12 views, posted 2 hours ago

He clicked on it, something felt different about this one. The thumbnail displaying what seemed to be a couple in their mid twenties, kissing in the frame of the video. The women had long black hair and sexy curves that made Katsukis dick twitch. The man she was with cupping her face gently with deep admiration for her in his eyes.

As the video slowly played out on his screen, he paid no mind to the humming background noise of their bedroom fan and the shitty resolution. What struck him was the way they kindly talked to each other, pressing small yet passionate kisses on each others faces, how their soft hands rubbed and stroked at one another with care and love.

Katsukis hand roughly gripped around his dick before he could even think to do it. Feeling himself desperately stroke faster each time the couple said sentences of care and sweet nothings to each other. Low moans he didn’t anticipate escaping his mouth as the man slowly inserted himself into the curvy brunette. He wasn’t even attracted to the couple in the video, though he couldn’t help but feel the coil in his stomach build as the intimacy of their love making displayed itself before him.

He wanted to be the one to do it, to bury his cock into his hypothetical girlfriend and dick her down with all the love in his heart. Apart of him felt weird for not being turned on by the professionally made studio porn instead of the homemade couple video with a total of 500 pixels. He tried not to think about it too hard, and focus on how hard his shaft throbbed in his hands.

He felt blissed out as he slowly edged himself, determined to cum at the same time as the couple, a desperately attempt at feeling included. Squeezing his tip harder every time pretty moans escaped their mouths, fuck he wanted to be in their position so badly.

“F-fuck babe… mmmnggg… gonna cum”

“That’s it, come for me pretty girl”

“Cum with me! I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Katsukis stomach felt hot, he was so turned on by the way they spoke to each other, the way they both quickened their movements desperate to make each other cum.

The moment the couple on the screen cried out in pleasure, Katsuki gave a few quick tugs, finishing himself off.

He gave out an embarrassingly loud groan as he released himself, ropes of his cum shooting onto his laptop screen. Panting as he laid back on his bed, he needs someone to do this with as soon as fucking possible

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius has the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

[heartysworld]

The Deal // Lando Norris

A/N: I'm literary writing this as the England-Spain final is happening so I've got absolutely no idea whether I'm going to jinx it or guess the winner but I guess we're about to find out!

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

W.C. 2k

The week between the Silverstone and the Hungarian Grand Prix was a much needed break in the intense Formula 1 schedule. Half the racing season was over, and you and Lando both needed a distraction from the relentless grind of the sport. It was the perfect opportunity to do something fun, to escape the pressure, and enjoy a few days just for yourselves.

“Alright baby, I have a proposition,” Lando said one evening as you both relaxed on the couch in your shared apartment, the remnants of a takeout dinner spread out before you. His fingers were gently running through your hair, and you could feel the tension of the season easing away.

“Oh? Do tell,” you replied, looking up at him with a smirk, already intrigued by whatever he was about to suggest.

“You know how you’ve been dying to go see a  Taylor Swift concert?” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye. You could already tell where thus was going.

“Obviously,” you replied, excitement bubbling up at the mere mention of it.

“Well, I’ve been thinking… What if we make a deal? We go to the Taylor Swift concert in Milan, but the next day, we head to Germany for the Euro Cup final. I'm sure we can figure something out regarding the concert tickets. Deal?” he proposed, his smile widening as he extended his hand towards to as a form of an agreement.

Your heart did a little flip. The idea of seeing Taylor Swift live had been a dream for you, and combining that with Lando’s passion for football seemed like the perfect plan for the remaining time before the next race in Hungary.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris,” you agreed, shaking his hand in a mock-serious manner.

The days leading up to the trip were filled with excitement and anticipation. You both packed your bags, making sure to include all the essentials – your Taylor Swift outfit and Lando’s favorite football jerseys. For a bit of fun, you had even gotten Lando a shirt that said, “So many Sainz, so little time,” a playful nod to his friendship with Carlos.

Finally, the day arrived. You and Lando boarded the flight to Milan, the city buzzing with the same energy that coursed through your veins. After checking into the hotel you'd be staying at, you quickly changed into your concert outfits. You wore a beautiful flowy dress that sparkled in pink and blue hues and twirled as you walked, while Lando sported his new shirt with pride.

As you arrived at the concert venue, the atmosphere was electric. Fans were everywhere, their excitement palpable. You grabbed Lando’s hand, your eyes sparkling with joy.

“This is it, Lando! I can’t believe we’re really here,” you exclaimed, squeezing his hand.

“I know, love. Let’s make the most of it,” he replied, pulling you closer as you navigated through the crowd to find your VIP seats.

The concert was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Taylor Swift’s voice filled the arena, her energy was infectious. You sang along to every song, your voice mingling with thousands of others. Despite not knowing all the lyrics, Lando joined in with your enthusiasm, dancing and cheering with you.

During “Love Story,” Lando placed his hands on your waist and twirled you around, his eyes never leaving yours. You laughed, your heart feeling light and free. The moment was perfect, a memory you’d treasure forever.

“Thank you for this, Lando. This means the world to me,” you said, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Throughout the concert, fans recognized Lando and started handing him friendship bracelets. By the end of the night, both his hands were covered with colorful, handmade bracelets given to him by enthusiastic Swifties. The sight of Lando, a Formula 1 driver, adorned with friendship bracelets made you smile.

When “Shake It Off” started playing, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You jumped up and down, hugging Lando tightly, and he joined in, laughing and dancing along with you. Unbeknownst to you both, several people in the audience captured photos and videos of you two, sharing your unfiltered joy.

The next day, you were up early, the excitement of the previous night still lingering. After a quick breakfast, you and Lando hopped on a flight to Germany. Unfortunately, time wasn't on your side and you had no chance to explore the beautiful city of Milan with the love of your life. However, this led to Lando's idea for a vacation in Milan during his summer break.

The Euro Cup final was an event Lando had been looking forward to for months, and you were determined to make it just as special for him as the concert had been for you.

As you arrived at the stadium, the sheer scale of it took your breath away. Fans from all over the world were gathered, their team colors proudly displayed. You wore a jersey in support of Lando’s home country, earning an appreciative smile from him.

“Ready for this?” you asked, taking his hand as you made your way to your seats.

“Absolutely. This is going to be epic,” he replied, his excitement evident.

The match was intense, the atmosphere charged with energy. England was facing Spain, and the tension was palpable. You found yourself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering and shouting alongside Lando. When England scored the winning goal, the stadium erupted in celebration. Lando lifted you up in a jubilant hug, spinning you around.

“We did it!” he exclaimed, his eyes alight with joy.

“You did it,” you corrected, laughing as you hugged him tightly. “This was incredible, Lando. I’m so glad we came.”

“Me too, love. This has been the perfect weekend,” he replied, kissing you deeply.

Later, as you made your way back to the hotel, fans also captured moments of Lando jumping and cheering, celebrating England's victory. Videos of his infectious excitement quickly spread online, fans delighted by the sight of him in his element.

Back in your room, you cuddled up on the bed, exhausted but happy. Lando pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too, Lando. Thank you for everything,” you replied, snuggling closer.

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this weekend would be one you’d both remember for the rest of your lives – a testament to your love, your shared passions, and the joy of making deals that brought you closer together.

The next morning, you woke up to a flurry of notifications on your phone. Curious, you opened social media to find that videos and photos of you and Lando from both the concert and the football match had gone viral. Fans couldn’t stop talking about how cute you both looked together, enjoying something you each loved.

There were clips of you dancing and twirling to “Love Story,” Lando’s hands on your waist, and another of you jumping up and down, hugging him tightly during “Shake It Off.” Then, there were the heartwarming videos of Lando cheering and jumping when England won, his pure joy infectious.

“Looks like we’re famous,” you said, showing Lando your phone. He chuckled, pulling you into another hug.

“I guess the world likes seeing us happy,” he said, kissing your forehead.

And as you lay there, wrapped up in each other, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for these perfect moments you had shared, knowing that you had created memories that would last a lifetime.

MASTERLIST

[dipperscavern]

thinkin’ about (fem implied) targaryen!reader introducing cregan to their dragon (silverwing) for the first time

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

though you and cregan had been married for a few moons now, he had always preferred to leave the dragon-taming to you. dragons were formidable beasts, able to wipe out populations with a single breath of fire. truthfully, he had always been weary of them. he preferred for them to stay down south, because capable of a warrior & protector cregan is, there was nothing he could do to tame the temperaments of fire made flesh.

he had no qualms about silverwing specifically — a seemingly calm and gentle beast, who had done cregan the favor of sticking to her cave, unless to hunt or stretch her wings between your visits. while not fully capable of understanding, he thought of the targaryens ancestral connection to their dragons something akin to the starks and their direwolves.

he would watch with bated breaths as you and her took to the skies, becoming one in the art of wings, not words. he would exhale with relief each time you landed unscathed, and waited for you to depart from your dragon before approaching. and thus, you had fallen into routine. cregan stuck to his castle, silverwing stuck to her cave, and that was that.

until you started showing interest in introducing one to the other. the increased mention of your dragon in various conversations, occasionally flying over winterfell itself, when you had not dared such an endeavor before. cregan caught onto your idea long before you actually brought it up, and had been mentally preparing for the conversation he had no doubt would ensue. one fateful night, on the walk to your shared chambers after supper, ensue it did.

“Husband..” you began. “Wife,” was the response you got.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, gaze flickering to cregans face in uncertainty. he hums, waiting for you to continue. “and it would greatly please me to have your company on the morrow. Whilst I see Silverwing.”

cregan keeps his gaze trained ahead, and you can almost see the gears in his head moving. he speaks, tone not with malice — only interrogative. “You would have me face the she-dragon?”

“Not face, my love. Only… greet.” you see the upward tug of cregans lips that tell you he doesn’t think that much of a difference.

you exhale through your nose, a twinge of annoyance seeping through you. though you can’t blame his hesitance (most men cower at the sight of dragons), you can’t help but feel like as he denies silverwing, he denies you. doesn’t he know you are one and the same?

“I only meant,” cregan says, “that dragons are… formidable creatures.” he’s careful with his words, he knows you view silverwing as an extension of yourself. “To displease a dragon is an err only men now with the gods have made.”

“Silverwing is most temperamental, and you would be safe in my company.” you assure, and you truly mean it. on dragonstone, silverwing is regarded as the gentlest of them all. “I only wish as I embrace Northern culture that you familiarize with mine own.”

cregan hums, knowing you have the right of this situation. marriage is about compromise, and you’ve been steadfast in your assimilation of his culture. you were married in the sight of his gods, you moved to his home, left your family… cregan is aware of the sacrifices you’ve made, indeed. he will meet you in the middle.

“On the morrow, then.”

out of his peripheral, he can see the instant smile that spreads on your face. it tugs on his (thought to be cold) heartstrings, and once you stop at the heavy wooden door, you stand on your tip-toes — pressing a kiss to his cheek. he bends to aid you.

it’s safe to say when morn comes, your mood is most chipper.

you and cregan had decided to do your dragon-embracing in the early morning, hours away from meetings or duties, time carved out where you can simply be. be with one another, silverwing, and if cregan is lucky, the gods. you can almost hear the silent prayers echoing from his mind as you make your way up the hill and to your dragons home.

you register the uncertainty in his gaze, and how his eyes flicker around the stone walls of the cavern entrance. you know you ask much, for him to saunter into the dragons den, but you’re grateful for his effort. excitement bubbles in your stomach at the prospect of seeing your dragon, and introducing her to the one you love.

you’ve not gone far in when you decide to halt (for cregans sake), you’re far enough in to be blocked by the wind, but close enough to the exit to soothe cregans nerves. cregans more than happy to allow you to take the lead, paying attention to your every move. you send him a smile, he attempts to return it.

you dislodge from cregans side, stepping forward as to be the first one silverwing sees. you have brought in tow a stranger, after all.

“Naejot Māzīs, Gēltīkun.” come forth, silverwing.

seconds pass, before you hear a low rumbling, accompanied by the sound of rocks moving — and the sound of something moving. something big.

cregan looks around, waiting to see her emerge, but he underestimates the dragons’ ability to cling to the shadows. had it already seen him, before he even knew it was there?

before he can finish his thoughts of curiosity about the stealth of dragons, the head of one slowly reveals itself, moving into the light, and cregan swallows. her gaze flickers to him only briefly, registering him in the least possible amount, before returning to & staying on you. you reach a hand up and out to her, and she lowers her head to you. cregan sees the brief close of her eyes, one touch from you being all it takes. targaryens, he thinks. targaryens indeed.

you step to silverwing, moving to run your hand from her nose up the expanse of her cheek, and cregan sees her lower her head almost fully to the ground. a part of him almost finds it cute. her lips split as a low rumble escapes her mouth, unlike the noises cregan hears her emit when you both are in the skies. even though cregan knows as much about dragons as you do about the witches of asshai, he would venture as far to say it didn’t sound like a displeased growl. more of an unsure-curiosity-filled-question-mark. still, you don’t take any chances.

“Lykirī.” you mutter, be calm. “Ziry iksos daor se qrinuntys, mērī issa valzȳrys.” he is not the enemy, only my husband.

steam blows from her nostrils in an almost sigh, lighter-toned noises echoing from her throat when you finish speaking. she makes you smile, hands still pressed against the hot, scaled skin of the dragon you share a soul with.

cregan knows not what you said in your ancient tongue, but it seems more than efficient in guiding silverwing toward the acceptance of cregans presence. she is cool-tempered, as you said. he remembers what feels like so long ago that he encountered your brother jacaerys’s dragon, vermax. an ill-tempered beast, he was — cregan would say. though he can’t blame it all on vermax entirely, dragons don’t like the cold.

once you’ve roamed your hands across silverwings neck, drinking her in, you beckon him over. “Come, Cregan.”

you could have went to him and came back to silverwing, but truthfully, you challenge him in a silent test of bravery. will he trust you, as you’ve trusted him?

cregans gaze moves from you, to your dragon — where it stays. he’s cautious, but you can’t fault him for that, and he eventually begins to step forward.

silverwing keeps her gaze trained on cregan, keeping herself unusually still as he approaches. you can’t claim to know the heart of a dragon, but your intuition tells you it’s her gentle nature — she doesn’t want to scare him. you amuse yourself with the thought of meleys or vermax in silverwings current place. meleys’ intimidating horns moving as she tilts her head to the side, challenging anyone to step forward (that isn’t rhaenys), or the light snap of vermax’s jaws as he enjoys toying with the man, watching them jump back from the prospect of his teeth.

when he’s a breath away from her, you decide to take pity, and move from silverwings side. now it is you and cregan, looking into her eyes in a silent understanding.

you slide your hand over his own, and move it up to touch her snout. she could pull away, or leave you a widow, but she doesn’t. she even moves a hair forward, nudging herself into cregans hand. the surprise in his face is palpable.

“She’s warm.” he says.

you nod. “In more ways than one, yes.”

you stand there for minutes, cregan lightly stroking silverwing, and her enjoying the attention. only when cregan himself removes his hand do you pull away.

“As much as I have… thoroughly enjoyed this,” he says, looking at silverwing as if she can speak english. “I think I’ve exercised bravery more than enough, this morn. Winterfell awaits.”

you sigh at the prospect of leaving your dragon and facing your duties. “That it does.”

cregan looks at you, secretly admiring your features. it is one thing to cautiously approach a dragon, and make it out alive. it’s another to slide on its back, and a different thing entirely to speak its language. he can’t deny the certain aura he feels, gazing at your silvery-hair, knowing you share the feature with all of your ancestors.

“Will you join me, or should I expect to return alone, cold and wifeless?” he asks, a smirk breaking its way through his usually-hardened exterior in light of his sarcasm. it makes you smile, so it was well worth it.

“Freezing and lonely, for now.” you say, brushing your cloak aside to show him a glint of your riding attire. the sight of it only etched love in cregans pupils as he reaches out for you, and connects his lips to yours. the kiss is briefer than you both would have liked, but duty unfortunately calls. once you break apart, he looks at silverwing, and with a quick nod of his head, turns to exit the den he’s grown to appreciate.

cregans approaching winterfells gates when he hears the whoosh of wings, and looks up just in time to see a familiar pair fly over him & winterfells walls. the men around him duck, your laugh and silverwings screech intertwining into a euphony fit only for the gods to hear — and as cregan watches you dance with the clouds, he remembers the feeling of dragon-scaled warmth under his palm.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[caws5749]

Useless in A Good Way

A/N: oh, another fic where she writes a pregnant reader… YES IM SORRY but I’ve dreamt of being pregnant since I was little and it’s my biggest dream so here we go again 😭I’m working on requests as well but this just popped into my head. I felt very... out of practice with the last few pieces but writing this... I feel good again.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at some inappropriate joke Tony made after Clint won the round of whatever card game they were playing. Natasha’s hand rested on your thigh, squeezing accidentally while she laughed. The music played in the background, barely heard over the nearly hundred voices that filled the main room of the compound for the latest party Tony had deemed necessary.

You turned your head towards your wife to admire her for a moment. Nat caught your eye, sending you an admiring smile that she reserved only for you.

“You look radiant,” she murmured, leaning in closer to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You blushed, loving the red that still tainted your cheeks after four years of marriage.

"You look like home," you replied quietly, just barely loud enough for her- and Steve (curse that super soldier's hearing)- to hear.

She really did look like home. Her dress was long sleeve and snug, ending just below her knees and made of the softest cashmere. It was cozy and warm and loving, just like her, just like home.

The smile she let show threatened to overtake her lips, so she ducked her head as she always did. Perhaps even more so, considering the amount of alcohol she'd ingested.

You were the only one not drinking, which probably had something to do with the fact that you were seven months pregnant... with twins. You felt like you could hardly move and you the thought of two more months made you simultaneously groan and smile. Not to mention, you hadn't used your powers in a few months; the pregnancy hormones had affected your abilities in a questionable way, and the last time you had tried to let the familiar cool water flow from your hands, nothing had happened. It simply seemed that they had.. petered out. And you were warned by Dr. Cho to avoid trying to use them too much anyway.

"I should probably go check on the intelligence report," you said, sighing. Given that you were the only completely sober being present, it was your task to check on the latest intelligence report currently running after some curious and daunting messages of late.

Natasha nearly pouted, before standing and gripping your forearms with the gentle strength that only your wife could perfect. You groaned, all of your muscles giving maximum effort to stand from a seated position, your large abdomen giving you little room to move.

"God, I have two more months of that," you muttered.

"And it's only going to get harder," Clint chimed in, chuckling sympathetically. You sent him a mock glare.

"I'll go with you," Nat stated, a hand falling to your back. She hardly let you go anywhere alone, not that you minded. Living in the Avengers compound was one of the safest places there was, but it also was a target.

"Sit, I'll go," Steve said, "I've got to check on Bucky anyway."

"Finally, Natasha, it is your turn to lose so one money," Tony grinned, shuffling the deck of cards. Your wife retook her seat, rolling her eyes.

Steve met you next to the couch, offering an arm, which you took gladly. The team had been nothing but supportive after finding out about the pregnancy. They were all in agreement regarding your safety and protection. It was automatic at this point for them to watch over you, something that warmed your heart daily.

"How is Bucky?" you questioned.

"He misses being able to walk," Steve chuckled. "That's what he gets for fighting on a torn knee."

"It's been a week since surgery, right?"

He nodded. "And another week before he'll be able to get up and walk on it."

You hummed sympathetically. It was what all of you hated the most- feeling useless, being unable to be an Avenger. You had grown quite accustomed to the feeling.

Your friend, reached out with his other hand to open the door for you, following you inside the intelligence room, curious what the report would say too.

You studied the screen and briefly leafed through some papers, stopping at another odd message printed. Your brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"It's a date. Today," you answered, looking up to read his expression.

You'd seen the confusion and slight nervousness in his face before glass shattered in the not-so-far distance. Steve looked at you, panicked.

"We need to get you to the bunker."

"We don't even know what's-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. Shouting then could be heard, growing closer in a split second. "Now."

You moved as quickly as you could, exiting only after Steve cleared the hallway. The two of you moved with expertise, albeit a bit slower than normal, towards the stairs. He helped you down the stairs, hurrying you along without rushing you. When you turned down the hallway that held the bunker, several beings masked in dark leather suits and glowing face shields awaited you.

"Stay back," Steve commanded, not even waiting for a response before running toward them at full speed. He pulled a knife from his pocket and set to work. You felt utterly useless, powerless, as you watched them swarm him. A few tried to sneak past to you, but he wouldn't let them come even close. You stood, anxious, barely breathing. Two swift hits to the stomach and knees had Steve knocked on the ground, stumbling for his footing. On instinct, you stepped forward, hands out in front of you.

You had no thoughts as you summoned the familiar tingle of your powers, forgetting completely that they may not even work for you. When coolness flowed through your fingertips, you only then realized you hadn't been able to do that for a while, and you probably shouldn't be doing it now.

But it didn't matter, there were enemies at hand, and you were an Avenger.

So you let a wave hit the men with everything you had. It was nowhere what you had attempted to do, but it worked nonetheless. It gave Steve the opportunity he needed to jump up and take them out quickly.

He took the remaining problems out with ease and then ran back to you.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, you?"

"You shouldn't have used your powers," he said aloud, more a fact and realization at what you had done rather than a scolding.

"I know."

"Bunker," he stated, gently pushing you towards the door. "Stay inside until you get the 'all clear."

You nodded, finding the hidden keypad and locking yourself inside.

++++++

When Steve returned back up to the party, he found several similar bodies strewn about and a few slightly out of breath Avengers.

"Y/N?" Natasha demanded.

"In the bunker, safe and unharmed."

She nodded, a thanks to her good friend.

"Anybody know what the hell is going on?" Clint asked, setting his bow and arrow down.

"Just today's date written down in a message, we just saw it in the report but couldn't piece anything together," Steve answered.

Natasha heard that and knew there was nothing to answer for now, so she started towards the hallway.

"Nat, she used her powers."

Your wife turned on her heel at that, whipping in the soldier's direction faster than lightning.

"Call Cho," was all she said.

++++++

"Natasha is entering," JARVIS announced, causing you to sit upright, eyes glued to the door.

"Oh, thank god," your wife muttered, seeing you sitting unscathed. "Are you alright?" She rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, eyes scanning your form, hand coming to rest against your cheek after she found nothing.

"I'm fine. Are you?" You turned to plant a kiss to her palm.

"Fine. You used your powers."

"Well, somewhat. They didn't work exactly right," you responded, frowning.

"What happened?"

You told her how you had saved Steve, well only by giving him a slight edge.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asked gently, picking up on your rather displeased tone.

"I feel useless," you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes as you shifted your gaze downward. Gentle fingers tugged your chin upwards until you were forced to meet those familiar emerald eyes.

"You are growing two human beings. That is not useless. I know you aren't avenging right now, but you did just save Steve, even if your powers were limited. Just because you can't do what you normally used to doesn't mean you aren't doing other things that aren't just as amazing, baby."

The corners of your lips twitched upwards, your mood already lifting.

"That's my girl. Now let's go upstairs, Cho is going to check you out."

"Natasha, I'm-"

"I don't care if you're fine," she tutted. "I'm not taking any chances."

With that, she kissed you softly and helped you upright.

++++++

BONUS

"And you know what she said?" Steve asked, a hand placed over his heart as he sat next to Bucky in bed. "You look like home." He sighed softly, as he thought of his two friends who were so beyond perfect for one another.

"How is that supposed to make my knee better?"

[scribbly-squid]

Oblivious | Lucifer Imagine

Lucifer x Sinner Reader

Imagine: Angel Dust having to explain to Lucifer after the fact that you were flirting with the fallen angel.

Masterlist

“You must be the King of Hell,” you said, your voice warm and calm as you looked up from your book. Your gaze shifted to the towering, sharp-dressed figure standing beside Angel Dust, the two of them making quite the striking pair. You closed the book slowly, savoring the moment, and slid the glossy brochure Angel had shoved into your hands earlier—a vivid, glittering advertisement for one of Hell’s more notorious clubs—between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. Rising from your seat, you smoothed your outfit and crossed the room with easy confidence. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Y/N.”

Lucifer’s crimson eyes flicked to you, his expression carefully neutral at first. For someone nicknamed the King of Hell, he seemed surprisingly… reserved. After a brief pause, his lips curved into a polite, faintly nervous smile as he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his deep voice velvety smooth but tinged with something you could only describe as hesitation. “And please, drop the formalities. I’m not really a fan of those.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your curiosity about the infamous King of Hell growing by the second. “I can see where Charlie gets it from,” you quipped, and his smirk grew slightly, a glimmer of pride flickering in his eyes.

“She’s told me a bit about you,” Lucifer admitted, his tone light but cautious. His gaze flicked briefly to Angel Dust, who stood a few feet behind him, clearly struggling to suppress whatever sarcastic comment was threatening to escape. “So, Charlie mentioned you had some questions for me?”

“I do,” you replied, nodding enthusiastically as you clasped your hands behind your back. “First question: is it some kind of prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Lucifer blinked, his composure slipping ever so slightly. For a being of his stature and reputation, he looked… flustered. A quiet, nervous laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck, his crimson eyes darting anywhere but at you. “Well, uh…” he began, his voice catching slightly, “every angel is unique, so we all end up with different traits. There’s no, uh, official requirement to be... ‘good-looking.’” He paused, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “But I suppose many of us are rather fortunate in that regard.”

Behind him, Angel Dust failed spectacularly to keep his composure. He let out a sharp snicker, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Fortunate, huh?” Angel repeated, his tone oozing with mockery. He waggled his eyebrows at you, his pink eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t let him fool ya, honey—he knows exactly how good he looks.”

Lucifer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he’d heard this a thousand times before. “Thank you for that, Angel,” he muttered dryly.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you did your best to maintain your composure. Clearing your throat, you glanced back at your book, needing something to ground yourself. “Right, well, thanks for clearing that up,” you said, doing your best to sound nonchalant even as your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. “Anyway, I should go get ready for one of Charlie’s exercises. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Lucifer nodded, his polite smile returning, though you caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “Of course. Good luck with that.”

As you turned to leave, you risked a quick glance over your shoulder at Angel Dust, who was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. His grin was so wide it practically split his face in two. He blew you an exaggerated kiss, winking at you as if to say, Told you so.

You raised an eyebrow at him, shooting him a look that said, You weren’t kidding. Angel only doubled down on his smug expression, twirling a strand of his hair around one clawed finger like a lovestruck teenager. It didn’t hurt that Angel was right—Lucifer was ridiculously handsome. Though you were certain you’d never hear the end of it from Angel Dust.

Lucifer leaned against the bar, his crimson eyes lost in thought. Angel Dust, turned around with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You good there, big guy?” Angel teased, tapping his nails against the bar. “You’ve been staring at that wine like it’s got all the answers to life’s mysteries. Lemme guess—you’re thinkin’ about what Y/N said, huh?”

Lucifer sighed, barely glancing up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please,” he drawled, sliding closer on his barstool. “Don’t play dumb with me, Lucifer. Y/N was totally flirting with you earlier, and you just stood there like a clueless puppy. It was adorable, really.”

Lucifer frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Flirting? She wasn’t flirting. She was asking questions.”

“Uh-huh.” Angel gave him a deadpan look. “Sure. Because ‘Is it a prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?’ is just a totally innocent question, right? Definitely not laced with any, ya know, subtext.”

Lucifer straightened up, his expression shifting as the realization started to dawn on him. “Wait… you think that was…?” He trailed off, the faintest hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks.

Angel couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with delight. “Oh, my God, you’re hopeless! She was flirting so hard I almost felt secondhand embarrassment, and you—you just stood there, giving her a freakin’ lecture about angelic traits. Classic.”

Lucifer groaned, pinching between his eyes. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Angel said, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter died down. “Listen, babe, next time she hits you with a line like that, maybe try something like, ‘Well, what do you think?’ instead of looking like you’re buffering, alright?”

Lucifer shot him a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Angel grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “But hey, don’t worry. I’ll coach you if you need it. After all, it’d be a real shame if you let someone like her slip through your fingers just ‘cause you’re too busy bein’ all stoic and mysterious.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, but the thoughtful look on his face spoke volumes. Angel’s grin widened.

“Y’know,” Angel added with a wink, “for a guy who’s literally the King of Hell, you sure are terrible at recognizing when someone’s into you. Just sayin’."

[twirlyleafs]

“Matilda”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: complicated relationship with parent and guilt but mostly fluff <3

A/N: based on the song Matilda by Harry Styles

~~~~

You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know.

“I think we should call off the party.” You said, not looking up from your plate as you continued parting your food. In your peripheral vision you could tell Max froze just as he was about to pop a piece of chicken in his mouth.

“What?”

“The engagement party. I don’t want to do it anymore.” You tried to keep your tone light, as if it didn’t really bother you when in reality you’d cried an hour about it this morning. For the past few weeks you and Max had been planning a party to celebrate getting engaged, or rather you had been supposed to. In reality you had planned it, Max avoiding the subject like the plague. Every time you asked him to sit down with you to look at something regarding it he’d suddenly been very busy and if you asked for his advice he’d just kissed you and told you it didn’t matter, that it was your choice. At first you’d been so excited about the party, not just to get to celebrate the love you shared with Max, but because you thought planning a party together would give you a hint of how planning a wedding would be. Now all it did was make you want to cry.

“Why not? I thought you were so excited?” Max placed his utensils down, frowning at you from across the table. You shrugged, moving some lettuce around on your plate.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I think it’s best if we skip it.”

“But why?” He pressed and with a deep breath you looked up at him. Max offered the softest expression, genuine worry and confusion on his face. You forced yourself to give him a small smile.

“You don’t want to Max.” You stated simply and his face fell for a second before the frown was back. He opened his mouth to say something but obviously changed his mind, a silence settling over the table. You looked back down, poking the food around and occasionally taking a bite. It felt like forever before Max spoke up.

“I do want to.” The way he said it with a sigh had you looking up at him with furrowed brows. He shook his head when he met your gaze, obviously sensing your disbelief. “I do, I promise you baby. There’s just- I’ve been thinking about, well-“ Max didn’t seem to find the words, suddenly nervous. You reached your hand across the table, wiggling your fingers a bit. Max paused, a small smile forming on his face as he took your hand in his and leaned down to press a kiss against it.

“Tell me.” You mumbled, your thumb moving over his skin in the most comforting way you could. Max gave you a quick nod and you could tell he found it hard to express whatever it was he was about to say.

“I know we said we wanted our families and friends at the party.” He began, and you nodded. “And I do. Mostly.”

“What do you mean?” You were confused.

“You know I love my dad.” He began and it slowly dawned on you what this was about. You refrained from grimacing at the mention of Jos. The two of you had never really gotten along but that had never bothered you that much, Max had ensured you that Jos had never and would never get along with anything that took time away from racing. What made you really dislike your soon to be father in law was the way he treated his son. You’d seen Jos absolutely tear into Max for mistakes made by the team, by other drivers. You’d heard the stories from Maxs childhood, having been told the worst ones by his mother and sister since he would never share them himself. He didn’t want to put his dad in bad light, ever. Even when Jos definitely deserved it.

And not invite your family because they never showed you love.

“I know you do.” You agreed, leaving it at that. Max once again nodded softly, knowing very well how you felt about his father.

“And even though a part of me wants him there- I mean he is my dad.” Max paused again to take another deep breath, eyes fixed on your hands, before continuing. “An even bigger part of me don’t want him to come because I know he’ll either upset you or my mom or one of our friends.”

“Or you.” You added, knowing that even though Max had taught himself not to let it show when his father hurt him it affected him a great deal.

“Or me.” He agreed, quietly. “I think everything would be better if he didn’t come but I also feel this, I don’t know, intense guilt at the thought of not inviting him.” Maxs eyes shot up to stare at you the second you pulled your hand from his. He watched you stand up and for a split second he thought you were angry, but he quickly realized that you were rounding the table to come to him. Pushing his chair out he let you crawl up in his lap, his arms automatically wrapping around you. With a small pout on your face you let your hands cup his cheeks, forcing him to face you.

“Max.” You cooed, not being able to stop yourself from placing a quick but loving kiss on his lips before continuing. “You have every right in the world to invite, or not invite, whoever you want. Just because he is your father doesn’t mean he gets an automatic invite if you don’t feel like you want him here.”

“But it feels so mean.”

“He’s mean.” You stated, backtracking when you saw Maxs face drop. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. What I’m trying to say is that he put himself in a position where you’re even considering not inviting him. He did that. Not you.” You scratched your nails against his stubble, making him close his eyes momentarily. “I’ll support you no matter what you decide and I promise we will make the best of the situation whether he’s here or not. But you should only invite him if you actually want him here, not because you feel obligated. Loving someone doesn’t mean bending over backwards for them.” When Max opened his eyes again he immediately met your gaze and you could tell your words were slowly resonating within him.

“I don’t think I want him here.” You rarely heard Max be so vulnerable and it made your heart both hurt and swell with pride. He was standing up for himself.

“And you don’t have to be sorry for that. You don’t need to list anymore reasons other than the fact that you simply don’t want to.” You let your hands wander down his jaw and to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. Max nodded slowly and even though you could tell he wasn’t quite there yet, he was one step closer to standing up for himself. You tilted your head, offering a soft smile. “You don’t have to decide anything right now Maxie, we can take some time.” Max couldn’t help but smile back, leaning down to kiss you.

You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, lips still pressed against yours. You felt his arms tightening around you and you let your head fall to his shoulder. Max let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been stressing you out lately.”

“You always stress me out.” You joked, earning a soft laugh and fingers pressing into your side. You grinned and pecked his neck a few times, being the only thing you could reach while staying as comfortable as you were. “No but seriously Max, don’t worry about it. I get it. Just know that you can always talk to me about these things, about anything.”

“I know.” He whispered against your head and you smiled. Marrying Max would be the best decision of your life, you were sure of it.

[seoltzuki]

Sharing Is Caring (she doesn’t care)

a scrapped work of mine

Sana x afab reader

suggestive

As you busily prepare dinner, approaching footsteps catch your attention.

"I didn't even hear you come in," you remark, spinning around to meet her gaze.

With a serene expression, she settles gracefully onto the marble counter, fixing her eyes on you. Her hair falls delicately around her face, framing it with effortless beauty. You observe her chest rising and falling at an impossibly slow pace, marveling at her calm demeanor despite her hectic day.

Dropping her purse to the floor, she tilts her head slightly, prompting a frown to crease your brow as you contemplate what might have caused her reaction.

“How did your fitting go?” you inquire, resuming the task of slicing tomatoes. She scoffs, sliding off the counter to remove her coat.

“How did your date go, y/n?” she asks nonchalantly, deftly finding the zipper of her dress to slip it down her legs.

You release a sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Sana, why does this bother you so much? I’ve reassured you countless times that my work with Wendy is purely professional. Can’t you trust me?” you question, pushing the tomatoes into the pan.

Sana steps out of the kitchen for a brief moment and then reappears, settling back onto her spot on the counter, now draped in a dressing gown.

"Y/n, I never said I didn't trust you. It's jus—"

"If you trust me, then why are you making such a big deal out of it!?" you interject, your tone escalating.

Her sigh is audible as she jumps off the counter. "It's just... I've seen the way she looks at you... And I dislike it."

You scoff and begin chopping the mushrooms with more force.

"Well, I've seen the way Miyeon looks at you, and I don't complain," you retort.

She lets out a hearty laugh and envelops you in a hug from behind, wrapping her arms around your waist.

"Miyeon is with her boyfriend, darling. She can't do anything, whereas Wendy... Well, she doesn't have someone to love and cherish like Miyeon and I do," she explains, nuzzling your hair and planting a small kiss behind your ear.

You relax slightly under her touch, but a lingering irritation remains over her jealousy regarding Wendy's attention and the time you spend with her.

"Still... You know she won't try anything with me, Sana. Wendy knows what's going to happen to her if she makes a move on me... She'll have to face the Sana Minatozaki. There's nothing to worry about, love," you reassure her.

She sighs, a soft hum escaping her lips as she pulls your body even closer to hers, clearly pleased at the mention of her name. She trails her hands up and down your sides while planting gentle kisses on the side of your neck. You release the knife, leaning into her touch.

"I just," she begins, slipping a hand under your shirt to grasp your breast through your bra, while the other one trails down your inner thigh.

"Don't want to share you..." She whispers, her hot breath caressing your ear. You sigh, tilting your head to the side to grant her more access to your neck. With a gentle push, she presses you further, ensnaring you against the counter with her embrace.

She leaves open-mouthed kisses trailing up your neck before nibbling on your earlobe. A small whimper escapes your lips, and you swiftly turn around, pressing your lips against hers. Sana moans softly into your mouth, her hands sliding down to squeeze your ass. You whine and gently brush your tongue against her lower lip, your desire for more evident. Sana responds eagerly, parting her lips to deepen the kiss, lost in the heat of the moment.

She pulls back slightly, and together, you both take a deep breath. You can't help but notice the effect the kiss had on Sana – her lips are swollen, and her cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue. A giggle escapes your lips as you reach for her robe, swiftly removing it.

"I think seeing Wendy more often could be fun," you suggest, pulling her closer to you by the waistband of her panties.

She chuckles and slides her hands under your buttocks, lifting you onto the counter.

"I don't think it would be a good idea, my angel" she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips.

Sana teasingly sticks the tip of her tongue out, delicately licking your lower lip, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.

"Because, you're mine."

[multimilfs]

Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader: Gaudium In Finem

Summary: Death, upright; growth, change, new beginnings. Luckily for Lilia, she has the perfect guide to help her navigate the unknown.

AO3

Included: Mentions of death, allusions to smut, fluff and comfort, found family

Words: 2.7k

A/N: This is my love letter to Agatha All Along and to the group of people I'm fortunate enough to call my own coven. I'm sad to see the show end, but excited to see where it leads. It has been so much fun playing in the fandom sandbox every week with you all <3

Tag List: @emiliaisdead @kenzie-floops @nightmare-of-homophobes @thepotatoislost @mckiejames @women-are-so-ethereal @galaxydreamer468 @thoroughly--confused @angeliccss @goldenautomaton @asolitaryrose3 @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @macnbriee @liliastriangle @im-a-carnivorous-plant @allseingeye

Lilia loved being a witch. 

Loves. 

Loved? 

“If you think about it too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.” A voice calls from behind her. 

She turns, startled to find herself staring back down The Road. Her feet are bare, the leaves rough against the bottom of them, hair a wild mess of curls. She can smell the mud on herself, but mercifully seems absent from it on her person. 

The familiar weight of her own clothing startles her. She runs a hand down the sleeve of her cardigan, feeling the slight differences in texture between the yarn. Years ago, in a fit of fancy, she’d made it herself; it has been one of her most prized possessions since, and she’s relieved to have it returned. 

Lilia pauses at the sight of you. You lean against one of the gnarled trees, smiling in that fond way time had robbed her of remembering. There’s a welcoming energy surrounding you that she remembers, though, and finds herself drawn back into your orbit. 

Loved it is, then. 

“How are you here?” Lilia asks, breathless. 

“Where else would I be, my Lilia?” The accent lilts off your tongue just as she recalls, too. 

“You know what I’m asking.” She says, “How are you here—how am I here? I fell.” 

You tilt your head. Though the look you offer is curious, calculating, the warmth doesn’t ebb. It makes her feel lighter than a feather. 

“Death, upright.”

The words make her flinch. She can still feel it; the weight of the deck in her palm, the eyes of her coven on her, the encroaching doom of the swords aiming for all of them. And that final card—the destination—sealing the fate she had known since stepping into the trial. 

Death, upright. 

Your eyes are expectant, waiting. 

It clicks for Lilia, “New beginnings, transformation, and growth.” 

“Death is only a new beginning, and The Road is Death.” 

The Road is Death, yet she has never felt more alive. She feels the reliable weight of her magic still in her veins. Her heart is light at the sight of your smiling face and loving eyes. She itches to take your hand in her own again. 

As if sensing the desire, you extend your hand, palm up. She closes the distance to take it and finds herself pulled into a kiss. It’s sweet and slow, but brimming with centuries of longing. She pulls back and presses a kiss to your palm. 

“My Lilia, how I’ve waited for you.” You whisper, cupping her beautiful face between your hands. She looks back with soft, glassy eyes. “Come, I have so much to show you.” 

--- The Road is much more subtle in death than it was in life; or, at least, it is more casual about the changes it weaves in. The wild forest thins on either side, trees growing more sparse, or pushing back away from The Road as homes pop up alongside it, from victorian-style to mere cottages.

She can witness scenes through the windows, families caught in images of domesticity she doesn’t care for but they must find joy in. Others are outside tending gardens or enjoying the endless existence sprawled before them upon their porch. It’s peaceful, beautiful. 

Lilia is warmed by the fact that almost everyone offers a greeting. She regards you from the corner of her eyes when every soul regards you with recognition.

Before she can question the behavior, the two of you come upon the edges of a city. 

Old, worn stone in gray rises into buildings that blot out the eternal moon. Buildings she finds matches for in the back of her mind. She can hear the water lapping at the shore even from here. Eager in a way she’d forgotten, she pulls you along the streets, ignoring the glances of everyone around, until she finds that old stone staircase. 

Not a rock is out of place, nor has the water weathered anymore of the sand than she remembers. The waves are dark blue—purple, even, where they meet the shore. White moonlight bounces off the crests. 

“Care for a dip, like old times?” You ask. 

When Lilia turns, you look just as you did, then; so young and joyful, elaborate skirts bunched up in your hands. She nods. Stepping down the staircase, she finds she, too, is clad in the skirts she wore, having to hold them lest she trip. 

Lilia is one-hundred-and-two again, not appearing a day older than a mortal twenty-five. Her hair cascades in thick, loose brown curls around her shoulders and down her back. Her skin is smooth and sun-kissed and her eyes twinkle with the remaining joyful youth she possessed then. But when she sheds her dress to bare herself to you, she isn’t shy. 

You sink to your knees as you did then. The moonlight traces every contour of her form that you’re eager to bring your lips to. And you do, mouth winding a path up her leg when a hand in your hair stops you. 

“This isn’t how the memory goes, darling.” Lilia tuts. 

Your eyes are pleading, “A little embellishment couldn’t hurt, could it?”

She shakes her head. Her hand moves from her hair to cup your cheek. 

“I love the scene as it is.” 

“Then that is how it will remain.” You press a kiss into her palm. 

Lilia steps fearlessly into the waves and beckons you. You shed your layers and follow, desperate and eager for her after such a long separation. Somewhere between touches and caresses, your bodies return to their wiser, more lived-in forms; the past remembered and honored, but made anew, as Death tends to do. You kiss Lilia hard. 

--

Varying paths shoot from The Road. Some are made of stone, winding uphill and into towering cities that are archaic in appearance. Others extend until they vanish into treelines. It is none of these that bring Lilia to a stop; the one that does can barely be referred to as a path, but rather a pattern of spots where the grass has been weathered away permanently. 

It is plain. Worn. The patches of exposed dirt reveal divots in the earth that are small enough to resemble thousands of footsteps. She stares along its length in search of answers. She feels herself tempted. 

Lilia looks over her shoulder to you. 

“Wherever you lead, I will follow.” 

“But is it safe?” She presses. 

“There is nothing that can harm you in Death. I swear it.” 

The first step onto the path prompts something to unfurl in Lilia’s chest, like that of a loosening fist. Her feet match the steps of her formers, bending, molding into the divots and taking an infinitesimal piece of the earth with her. 

Each moment moving away from The Road brings change; past the treeline looming ahead, there’s a whisper of music. Muffled voices in the hundreds or thousands rise in harmony. 

Closer, she nearly pauses, the melody hitting her like a train. It only makes sense that The Ballad should have made it into the afterlife. Her hand reaches for your own, gripping tight. Faces pass behind her eyes; Jennifer and Alice and Agatha and Billy. 

Her coven. Oh, how she misses them—loves them, even now that Death has stolen her away. Some things never leave a witch. 

The two of you come to stand in a wide field, an impossibly large stage near the back edge. Lorna Wu is center stage, microphone pulled close by one hand while the other gestures and weaves. She is lost in the music, moving in a whirl of color and flowing fabric; she’s a goddess straight out of the seventies, just as the pictures portrayed. 

Alice’s resemblance is strong when Lorna throws her head back and smiles. Lilia’s not sure she’s ever seen evidence that the woman could smile; but given her goal in life, it’s no surprise that her peace would be found in Death. It comforts her to know Alice is here somewhere basking in the glow of her Mother’s joy. 

Thousands of witches mill around the stage. No two groups look exactly the same—some, she thinks, may even be older than she. Others are young, taken before their power could manifest. Her heart aches, yet there is a levity in knowing they’re all together, free to traverse the existence after life, absent of hurt. 

“Would you like to join them?” You ask. 

Lilia takes in the crowd, a rebuff poised on the end of her tongue. She’s far too old to dance like a girl amongst her sister-witches. Yet, she doesn’t give voice to her denial; because despite her age and her feelings on what would be proper, Lilia wants to be among them. 

“More than anything.” She answers instead. 

Your face spreads into a beautiful smile. Offering your hand to her with a flourish, “Well, then allow me, my lady.” 

The two of you work your way into the center of the crowd. Lilia doesn’t miss how people part for you, every single one offering a nod. But your attention is focused solely on her and it’s heavier than she remembers, with more behind it. 

Lorna has worked away from The Ballad and into Red Haired Woman. Witches on either side move as the music bids them, limbs fluid and wild. The air is thick with smoke and cedar and lavender. She tilts her head back and breathes deep. She can’t claim to know what it is that takes hold of her spirit, but she allows her limbs to move of their own accord, finding your own as the two of you dance with abandon.

--

“Darling?” Lilia murmurs, watching you. 

You’re focused hard on the fruit presented in front of you. Hands hover, unsure, painfully intentional in the piece you want to pick for her. It reminds her of the early days in Romania, years before you—she pushes that thought away. 

The witch that has plucked each piece to sell watches your process. Her lips curl in amusement, leaning against the stall, waiting. There is familiarity in how she regards you and it is this that sets Lilia’s mind running. 

Your hand comes to hover over one of the oranges and you snatch it up as if it would be taken from you. 

“Thank you.” You say to the owner, who only nods. Then you turn on your heel and offer the orange to Lilia, “For you.” 

Lilia takes it with a smile. She walks at your side as the two of you weave through those within the marketplace. You’re careful to keep a steady pace, so Lilia doesn’t get swept away in the crowds. 

Her fingernails dig into the soft flesh of the orange, repeating, “Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lilia?” 

A black cat weaves its way through your legs and nearly trips you up. It runs off, a child no more than seven running after it. 

“Who are you to the dead?” She asks. 

“A guide.” A loose term, really, “I aid the newly dead in letting go of life and embracing the after.” 

Lilia wonders for a moment if that is what you’re doing now, but she knows that isn’t the truth. You waited for her same as she has longed for you. Not one moment spent together has been out of something as simple as duty. 

“They all know you, as if you’ve been around for eternity.” 

“Something like that.” You shrug. 

She eyes you with that look that means she expects an explanation. But the way this place works—the way Death works is difficult. It would take years for even the most enlightened witch to understand it. Well, years being a filler term, anyway. 

You sigh. Words come to mind, only to be banished, labeled unsuitable. Finally, you weave together the concept as best as you can, and open your mouth to speak. 

“Death is eternal—past and present and future. I’ve been here for eternity, same as I’ve been here only a couple of centuries.”

Lilia seems to have no trouble grasping the concept, “Death winds outside of time.” 

You nod. Of course Lilia would understand, with her experience of living outside the linear path; your Lilia, winding out of time, who saw the true sequence of existence in the fact that there is no sequence—things just are. 

“By your logic, all beings are eternally dead.” 

“They are. In a way.” 

Her head tilts, “Yet you said you waited for me. If a being is eternally dead, I would have always been here.” 

“My position grants me… unique insight into the illusory flow of time seen in life. I exist here, where time doesn’t live, while being aware that souls still remain on the linear path. I did wait for you, for so long—because my seeing both existences cemented your path in the linear.” 

Torture of the truest sense; knowing, rationally, that she should be with you in the existence after, only to glimpse into that illusion of life and find her cemented there, far out of your reach. You could have clawed away at the timeline and brought her home to you, but you knew she needed to find what existed there; so she would find what makes Death more than just an end. 

The mere reminder of the torturous existence without her has you stopping in the center of the crowds, uncaring for how they have to weave around you two. You pull her into a loving, intense kiss. She responds in kind. Her hands fist in the fabric of your shirt and pull so not a whisper can exist between the two of you. 

When she pulls back, her lips are swollen, eyes dark, “Where do we go from here?” 

“Wherever home is.” 

“Helpful. Thank you very much, darling.” Lilia deadpans. 

“Home is wherever I have the pleasure of seeing you happy, my Lilia.” You say, endlessly affectionate, your hands on either one of her cheeks, “I’m merely following you to where that may be.” 

“Some guide you are if I’m the one doing the guiding.” 

You laugh. Her eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief. Despite her spoken misgivings, though, she takes to the role well. Lacing her fingers through your own, she begins to pull you back down The Road as it winds. You follow, just as eager as she is to figure out where home is meant to be. 

--

Home isn’t what you expect. 

You anticipated an ancient place—like the homes you shared in Italy and Romania—or at least somewhere more rooted in nature; this is neither. The two-story house is right out of a modern sitcom. It’s somewhat plain, absent of the wizened flair you’ve come to associate with Lilia. 

Lilia, who stands on the porch, hands hovering over the door as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Lilia, who had picked up speed the second she saw the house in the distance. Lilia, who is looking back at you, tears in her beautiful brown eyes. 

A bark of laughter from inside is muffled by the door. You raise your brows. 

Lilia’s smile is incandescent. You’re not sure the door was unlocked, but she turns the handle and it opens all the same, the voices dying down inside. Then you hear the sound of hands clapping together. 

“Finally.” A voice calls, “I was beginning to think you lost your way, Dory.” 

You recognize the voice and hide a laugh behind a cough. Lilia glares, but there is no heat. 

“Agatha, seriously?” Jen sounds utterly exhausted. 

“What? You were all thinking it.” 

“They weren’t, actually.” 

“No one asked you, William.” 

Standing just a step behind Lilia, you watch the interaction with a smile. You understand now. They’re broken and a little peculiar, but they fit in an odd way. 

Agatha’s poring over something at the kitchen table while Jen sits at the other end, mixing furiously. She does look up to offer Lilia a fond smile. Billy rests on the living room floor with Scratchy in his lap while Alice is sprawled on the couch behind him. 

It’s a hodgepodge of personalities that should never work, but they do. Better than anything you’ve seen in a very long time. 

“Darling,” Lilia says, taking your hand, “come meet my coven.” 

You ignore the fact that you’ve already met every one of them—with the exception of Agatha, who Death had been very intense about handling personally. The door closes behind you. In the back of your mind, you thank whatever forces have led you here; home, winding outside of time. 

[watermelonlovershigh]

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[th3cadav3r]

Hello! I think a nice sfw fluff scenario for the Tulpar crew would be headcanons of how each character would react when the reader hesitantly tells them they don’t like sex or are asexual. Reader can be gn. Thank you, I really like your headcanon writings!

SFW Mouthwashing Headcanons—Asexual Reader

content: fluff, kissing, cuddling, mentions of sex, very very very slight acephobia from Jimmy(but with a happy ending)

author’s note: Keep in mind that I am not asexual therefore I cannot understand or fully grasp the asexual experience. I just tried my best based on what I’ve seen and heard online. Hope you enjoy!

Daisuke

You and him had been dating for about three weeks

You always held hands and made out a lot, but nothing more than that

His libido is pretty high because of his age, so naturally he wanted more

You were making out on the couch when suddenly you felt his hands start to wander

It was fine at first until his hand started reaching a little too low for comfort

“Wait—”you blurt out

He stops immediately, retracting his hand

“Sorry, did I do something wrong?” His voice is full of genuine concern

“No, it’s not your fault. I just uh…don’t want that”

He was a little confused. “We can move to my bed if you want” He suggests, thinking that you just wanted more privacy than the living room provided

“No, I…I mean I don’t want to have sex. It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t like it”

He didn’t expect that but he understood. He smiled reassuringly

“That’s alright. I get it”

You breathed a sigh of relief and your body relaxed. You felt like you truly didn’t deserve such a sweet boyfriend

“Here—we can just cuddle instead” He offers with his arms open. You gladly accept

You spent the rest of the afternoon napping together and playing video games when you woke up

This was definitely different for him compared to his previous relationships, but he didn’t care. He loves you for you

Anya

You started dating towards the end of the trip

She’s more of a words of affection girl than a physical touch girl, which is perfect for you

At one point when things started to get a bit steamy, you finally told her

“Before this gets too far…you should know something about me”

You tell her how you feel no desire for sex but that you still love her the same. Of course she’s understanding once you explain it to her

“I appreciate that you told me”

You both have a long discussion about what is and isn’t okay in regards to your and her comfort. And you both come out of the conversation with a much better and deeper understanding of each other

Now whenever you and her get touchy, she knows exactly what to do to make you feel good without crossing the line

Curly

There was no doubt about it: You were the captain’s favourite

You spent a lot of time alone with him in the cockpit just chatting about the most random things

He definitely grew a liking to you and you to him. One day he asked you what exactly he was to you

You confessed your feelings to him and he does the same. While the moment feels amazing, you can’t help but feel worried about his reaction to your sexuality

“Hey, I should let you know–” You decide to just tell him now. “–I don’t really want this to be a sexual thing, okay?”

He’s a bit taken aback, you can clearly see that in his face. But he is by no means offended or upset

“No worries, then,” he reassures. “Thanks for telling me”

For the next few days, he was very overly cautious. He asked if you were comfortable before he gave you any kind of physical affection. It was a bit exhausting at first, but you appreciated that he cared so much

Swansea

Let’s be real: This man is old

His sex drive is almost all long gone

And he let you know this when you told him about your lack of sexual desire

“Yeah, so what?” he says gruffly and bluntly. “I’m fifty-fuckin’-six years old, sweetheart. Just thinking about sex makes my back hurt”

You were totally expecting that response. It still made you smile from ear to ear though

He wasn’t really a lovey-dovey type of guy when the others were around, but when you two were alone in his bedroom he was a lot more affectionate. Cuddles, kisses, caresses…everything he did was so gentle and comfortable

Jimmy

You’re definitely a lot closer to him than anyone else on board, even Curly

Neither of you really knew where you stood in terms of a relationship, but your “hangouts” included a lot of making out and touching

This was fine initially, but at a certain point it became too much for you

“Hold on—”You grab his wandering hand and move it off of your body

“What?” He was genuinely surprised that you stopped him

“This is going a bit too far for me”Your body tenses up, anticipating a very awkward and uncomfortable conversation

“What do you mean?” He sounded a little hurt and a bit annoyed

“I don’t…have a drive like that. I don’t want to do sexual stuff”You laid it all out for him

He was quiet for a bit. You couldn’t exactly read his face so you were starting to get a little nervous

“It’s not because of me, right?”

“No, of course not,” you reassure. “That’s just how I am”

He sighs. Whether it was out of relief or frustration you couldn’t tell

“Alright”

The atmosphere between you and him was a little awkward for the next few days. You couldn’t help but worry

“Sorry if I was being distant,” he finally told you one afternoon. “Just thinking things through”

“That’s alright” You were lying; you were a little upset that he basically ghosted you after you were so vulnerable with him, but you were willing to just let it go, at least for now

“I know you have your…thing. But I still like you”

Well that was a surprise. But a good one. Definitely a good one. You told him that you liked him back

He was a bit disappointed that he couldn’t do everything he hoped to do with you, but he still liked you a lot. Besides, he could always just “take care” of himself in private