#if you see me sleeping with a nightlight no you didn’t

[chobunz]

── only if you say yes. ( psh ) 🪽

๑ When trying out a dumb trend online with your best friend turns into something neither of you were very much experienced in at all..

pair: best friend!sunghoon ㅊ f!reader | warnings: smut, pwp, fluff, lots and lots of kissinggg, you’re both virgins lol, kinda subby!hoon, dry humping, hoon cries a little bit, surprise ending ?? | words: 2.1k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“uhh.. y’sure best friends are allowed to be doing this ?” sunghoon murmurs against the heat of your skin as you got dangerously closer. you boldly straddled his lap, telling him that you want to plant kisses all over his face with a fresh coat of pink gloss adorning your lips.

the idea randomly sprung into your head as you were watching some tiktok video about ‘covering my boyfriend’s face with lipstick kiss marks to see his reaction’ but… you didn’t have a boyfriend. you never really liked any of the gross, annoying boys at your school nor had a crush on anyone before. well, besides for one boy— the only boy you ever really cared about was sunghoon, who’s been your best friend since childhood and shared almost everything with.

the two of you were just casually sitting on your bed like usual, both your parents were gone as they had some important business meeting to attend to, leaving you both bored out of your minds with absolutely nothing better to do. you’ve always thought about kissing your best friend and how he’d react if you did it, would he be surprised ? upset ? angry ? turned on ? who the hell knows, but one thing you knew for certain was that you wanted to share your first kiss with him and only him.

“i don’t see why not, i mean.. unless you don’t want me to ?” your round eyes sparkle up at sunghoon as you ask him for permission.

the boy was far too flustered to speak, blushing softly as he gets shy and looks away, his eyes scanning the perimeters of your room. he looks at the soft pastel pink walls, your shelf full of books, random stationary, and the stuffed plushies that you’ve collected over the years. sunghoon knows practically everything about you, he knows that you’ve always liked cute things and how you’re so obsessed with all things pink and dress on the hyperfeminine side. he loves how innocent you are and how you still believe in the tooth fairy or the fact you have to sleep with a star projecting nightlight because you’re too afraid of the dark. he quite literally thought you were the most adorable, precious little thing to have ever graced this earth.

“uh, of course i want to..” “just wanted to make sure is all.” he replies awkwardly, the more cool and collected response in his head didn’t go quite as planned…

with that, your pink tinted glossy lips scattered kisses onto his rosy cheeks. the feeling of your breasts brushing up against sunghoon’s chest making him whimper, the only thing covering your nipples being the thin camisole you wore. your lips start to mark him on every spot of his face, kissing his little moles one by one. you especially loved the mole near the bridge of his nose and the one under his eye, everything just screamed perfection about him from head to toe.

you start to giggle as you find it funny that your lip marks are printed all over your best friend’s face. the way your warmth from your body heat combined with your cinnamon scented perfume only becomes stronger whenever your lips are near his face, it makes his mind all frizzy. he couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even believe this was happening. he truly thought he was dreaming; but it was too lifelike to feel like a dream.

“you look s’cute !” you smothered a dozen more kisses along his jaw through your words.

you smiled like a giddy teenager as you pull away from sunghoon’s face, bringing your hand mirror to his face so he can see all the kiss marks you drowned him in. for some reason it felt natural to him, he was happy to have your marks on his face; he’d walk around in public with your kiss marks on his face and wouldn’t have a care in the world of what others would say/think. there’s no one else he’d rather be doing this right now with than you.

“what’s on your mind hoonie ?” you ask all innocently, wondering why he’s been so quiet this whole time.

sunghoon doesn’t say much of anything in return, instead he grabs your face and crashes his lips against yours. you didn’t know the first thing about kissing, neither did he to be honest, but he’s watched enough romance movies and k-dramas to get the gist. your eyes widen at the fact that your own best friend you’ve known since birth has his lips on yours right now. they felt soft, so plush, and molded so perfectly with yours. you never wanted this to end, you simply could kiss his pretty lips all damn day. you were caught off guard when he abruptly pulls away, he opens his eyes and sees how in shock you are. he panics at the idea of you getting mad at him but he doesn’t say a word. he’s not exactly sure what to say..

“o-oh sorry.. i just really wanted to know what it’d feel like to have your lips on mine. you’re making me.. feel all these strange things inside..” god, he feels like such an idiot. he feels as though he’s blew any chance of redemption but is quickly surprised when you pull the collar of his t-shirt to reel him back in for another passionate kiss. he doesn’t even hesitate to melt into you, you were like a drug to him, more addictive than any substance could ever be.

๑ ๑ ๑

it wasn’t long until you found yourself back on sunghoon’s lap, making out with him for what seems like hours. you didn’t know what the hell you were doing but you were doing what your natural instincts were telling you and so was he. you felt an odd sensation throughout your body, something you’ve never felt before.

all you knew was that you needed some more friction, so you rocked your hips against sunghoon’s clothed erect, feeling him grow under your thin little shorts. it felt so weird but so good at the same time, the way he ruts his hips to be in sync with your movement, how it makes your whole body tingle, your pussy was throbbing, aching for more. both you and sunghoon made the most needy, whimpering sounds against each other’s lips.

“can we do it more ? can.. can you rub yourself on me again ?. it feels so so good y/n, i can’t take it ! i need it.. need to feel you on me please please please,” sunghoon’s whines were making your heart flutter. he was just so cute ;( he may be a couple years older, taller, and a lot stronger than you, yet he was always so soft and gentle towards you.

“mm.. of course hoonie, just be good for me m’kay?” you wanted him to be a good boy for you, you wanted him to let you take care of him.

he obediently nods at your words before you quickly get off of his lap and signal him to lay down flat on your bed. you shove the millions of sanrio plushies out of the way and make sure sunghoon’s head is comfortably laying on your fluffy body pillow, it was a must to have sunghoon feeling well at all times. it definitely wasn’t in the ‘women are made to take care of men!’ bullshit kind of way but in the way that even though he’s older, taller, and stronger than you he’s still your baby. he’d do anything for you, as you would do the same for him, so that’s why he obeys so easily, he knows you’ll take good care of him.

“you look so beautiful” sunghoon whispers as you begin to slowly take your clothing off, you were left in just your white camisole and your floral panties with a cute pink bow on the front.

“lemme take your shirt off hoonie,” he nods so you take off the oversized black t-shirt, leaving him in just his sweatpants.

you could tell sunghoon wasn’t wearing any underwear especially because you can see the outline of his bulge so well, so one tug of his sweatpants and his cock will be exposed. you eye his beautiful body, how toned and muscular he was… not to mention how defined his abs looked, you’ve seen them before many times, but not like this. your manicured fingers drag across his abs, he attempts to hide his face by turning to the side but you softly grab him, cupping his chin so he could face you once again.

“don’t— i wanna look at you hoon, and you want me to do that thing again, right?” you ask him sweetly as you tilt your head, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“please. i don’ wanna sound rude but stop talking and do it again… i like feeling you so close to me.” a pout forms on his lips, so desperate and horny for you that he was sure he’d nut the second you grind on him again.

it wasn’t long when you crawl on sunghoon’s laying figure. you’re now on top of him, your core pressed against his bulge that was harder than before. you feel your lower area grow excessively wet, it was clenching around nothing. you look down at sunghoon, his eyes giving you the most pleading, innocent look. you smile at him before you start to move against him, the whines slip out of his lips so easily. you see the way he closes his eyes, the way his lips part open as he lets out soft moans for your ears to drown in.

his hands fly to your hips and slightly grips them, something tells you he wants you to move faster. you plant your hands on his chest and move your clothed pussy against his hard faster, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you moan at the way your clit was being stimulated by the friction. it wasn’t long until you and sunghoon both felt this strange feeling bubbling inside your stomachs, it was like a fire in your lower abdomen.. a good fire.

“hoon.. w-what is going on.. i feel weird— oh my god!” you screech as you felt yourself release warm liquid out of your pussy.

sunghoon saw the way you were slightly shaking on him, how your face twitched, how beautiful you looked when you reached your climax. soon sunghoon felt himself cream in his pants, his eyes teary from the pleasure. he sniffles as you wipe the wetness from his face.. he’s so cute. at first he thought he pissed himself until he realized it was the same liquid that comes out when he thinks about you at night. what did they call it.. cum ?? he searched it up before but he really didn’t understand it much, maybe he’ll ask you to look it up with him tomorrow.

“we should.. do that again more often..” sunghoon says to you, your body collapsed besides his, hugging him from his side. he hugs you back, he feels so close to you.. like you two are one.

your lips found their way back onto his again, subconsciously rubbing up against him again. sunghoon couldn’t help but smile to himself at how much you wanted to feel him, although he was a bit worn out he wouldn’t be opposed to going another round with you on top of him again.

you and sunghoon were enjoying each other’s company, living in the moment as you embraced one another. what you hadn’t come to realize though, were the 4 adults that happened to be both of your parents standing utterly still in shock at the door.. completely dumbfounded.

“sunghoon ? y/n ?? what are you two doing ?!” your eyes widen along with sunghoon’s as you both heard the sudden loudness of your mother’s voice.

“my baby isn’t a baby anymore, oh my gosh !” sunghoon’s mother squeals, she knew that he’s had a crush on you but he never told you. this little kiss you two shared has now basically confirmed that you were also just as much as in love with him as he was with you.

you look at your doorway and see your father, no emotion on his face whatsoever.. he doesn’t seem angry or sad he just seems… unamused ? your mother had her hand over her mouth, sunghoon’s father trying not to burst out laughing and sunghoon’s mom was over the moon that her son is finally experiencing adulthood with a girl.

you’d expect scolding from both of your parents but really they knew this was bound to happen between you two one day, they were childhood best friends themselves, hell, they all used to be friends and now they’re married with children.

guess it was safe to say, you’d be able to give sunghoon kisses all over his face without having to hide it from anyone !

admittedly this isn’t my best work buttt i rlly thought the storyline was cute so i hope some of you enjoyed it nonetheless >-< ♡︎ ♡︎ also here’s a qt little visual of what y/n was doing to hoonie pie in the beginning ehehe <3

[reidrum]

stargazing | s.r.

A/N: this was a request and the concept itself makes me sick so here’s this, spencer reid i will fight your demons for you get behind me

summary: in which you attempt to heal a little part of spencer, one star at a time

cw: just fluff and comfort, fear of dark, can be read as gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

Learning about Spencer was a privilege, if you had to describe it. He would most likely say the same about you if he was asked, but god does he not know the marvel of discovering the inner workings and tinkerings that is Spencer Reid.

You knew he loved magic because of the child-like wonder and imagination it brings him. He always reads old literature in their native language because he believes the translated ones muddle the original intent. He refuses to wear matching socks because he loves when kids point out they’re mismatched and he gets to act all silly with them.

And tonight, you’ve learned yet another one. Spencer Reid is afraid of the dark.

It’s a logical fear to have, hell you still sleep with a nightlight and stuffie every night too. But for Spencer, it was different. The darkness didn’t just remind him of the unknown, it reminded him of places he’d been, places he spent countless nights trying to forget about but latch onto him like a blood sucking leech.

When you found out about it, it was completely unintentional. It happened at a movie night about a week ago, it was getting too late for you to drive back home so Spencer offered you to stay over and head back in the morning. After he’d given you a change of his clothes he went and got settled on the bed, and you went over to the light switch to turn it off.

“Wait!” you hear Spencer rush out, “Do you mind if we…keep it on?”

“You sure? I thought you were really sleepy.”

He looks at you nervously, “I—I am, it’s just…” he trails off.

It takes you a few seconds to understand what he really means, a look of recognition washing over your face while Spencer’s fills with guilt.

“It’s okay, we can keep it on.” you say lightly, walking back over to get under the covers with him. You cozy up next to him and look up, “I didn’t know you were…”

“I don’t really talk about it, I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice still holding what sounded like shame to you.

“Spence, it’s okay you don’t need to explain to me. Just want you to be comfortable, okay?”

He nods one last time before sinking his head down onto his pillow, and through his lashes wishes you good night. It really broke your heart to see Spencer be so affected by something that made him feel scared and self conscious. You just wish you could do something to help him feel better.

Lucky for you, you knew Spencer really well.

The next movie night you came prepared with a surprise of your own, hoping it would ease Spencer’s anxieties a little as he tried his best to rest.

“You look excited. More than you usually are when I pick an old Russian movie.” he remarks with a soft smile, opening the door wider for you.

“While I am very excited to watch Catch 22 in Russian, I brought something for you!”

He looks at you quizzically, “What? You didn’t need to bring anything, you know that—”

You wave him off and bound over to the couch, “Come sit, I’ll show you.”

Spencer shuts the door and sits next to you as you produce an opened package from behind your back, “Okay, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,”

“Always a great way to start a sentence.” he quips.

“Stop! I’m being serious,” you lightly thwap him on the shoulder, “Okay, I couldn’t stop thinking about how you told me you’re afraid of the dark, and I’m really happy that you felt comfortable enough to tell me, but it also made me really sad to think about you alone in your room not feeling okay…so.”

Before Spencer can even respond you pull out the contents of the opened package and lay it in your lap, beginning to work on opening the outer plastic. His brows furrow slightly, “What is that?”

You smile, “Well I was going to get you a cool nightlight, I saw some sick Tardis ones or even a pumpkin shaped one. Which I can still get if you want or if you hate this…” you finally get the last plastic off and pull out what’s inside, “But I got you these.” you hold them out for him to see.

Spencer gazes over your hands and asks, “Stars?”

“They’re glow in the dark stars,” you say matter of factly. You hold one out for him, watching him cup his hand around his eye to shroud the star in darkness and see its glow, “I used to have them on the ceiling and walls in my room when I was little.”

He smiles fondly thinking about a tiny you in a tiny bed, staring up at the stars on your ceiling as you try to fall asleep. You continue softly, “I was thinking we could put these up in your room and make little astronomically correct constellations on your ceiling. The intention is that whenever you look up you can remind yourself of the stories of the constellations to help you fall back asleep. But whenever you’re feeling afraid or scared, you can look up and see Ursa Major or Cassiopeia reminding you that you’re safe.”

Spencer is not often left speechless, but he’s come to learn that anything’s possible with you. He is not able to process that you took it upon yourself to find a solution to something that’s been plaguing his sleep for years, something that he didn’t even know could be fixed. A few tears escape from his eyes before he can help it, followed by a quick sniffle that brings your attention back to his face.

“Oh Spence,” you breathe out, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no I’m not upset,” he pulls his sleeve to wipe his eyes, “The exact opposite, actually. This…is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

You smile softly, “I just wanted to help. You deserve to rest and feel safe in your own space. If I can help with that in any way, I will.”

For the fear of crying again in front of you, Spencer grabs you and pulls you close to his chest, the smell of his laundry detergent and cologne overwhelming your senses so much you almost miss the muffled ‘Thank you’ whispered into your hair.

You press a small kiss to his chest, right on his heart before standing up and gathering the stars in your hands, “Okay, so which constellation are we doing first?”

All the love inside of him is about to burst as he looks at you about to walk into the bedroom, “Have I ever told you about the story of Perseus and Andromeda?”

[miirohs]

no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

[queenofthekings]

𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮

Summary: Your story of survival in New York, and the promise you made to Eric.

Author’s note: If I get anything wrong about New York, pls don't yell at me I'm just a Brit who's never been and is relying on the movie and my friends for help lmao. Special think you to @littlexdeaths for helping me with this, without you I probably wouldn't have gotten this finished. And if any of you see a reference to The Enemy, no you don't.

CW: 18+, fluff, descriptions of injuries, horror, spoilers for a quiet place day one.

Word count: 1.5k

Tagging: @espressomunson.

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You’d first met Eric in class, his accent being the first thing you noticed about him. Like him, you’d travelled far to attend law school in New York and both of you would talk frequently after classes about life back home and how different New York was compared to it.

The more you got to know each other, the more romance blossomed between you. He would always wait for you before class and go in with you, sitting beside you just so he could brush his fingers against your hand or whisper something funny into your ear to distract you.

You were expecting him to ask you out on a date, but then the world fell apart.

When it started, you were with a couple of your classmates, just laughing and joking around and then it stopped.

You barely had time to react before something akin to a bomb exploding just down the street caused everyone to start screaming and running all around you. Your lungs and eyes were burning from the smoke, and you could barely see but all you knew was that you needed to run. You had no idea where your friends were, but you hoped they were just hiding somewhere, and you’d see them soon as you darted into a bookstore.

With shaking hands, you got out your phone and dialled Eric’s number, silently praying he’d pick up only it went straight to voicemail. “Eric, it’s me. If you get this, stay where you are; I will come for you, okay? I will come find you. I’m so fucking scared right now, but I hope you’re still out there and you’re safe.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you were too scared to, what if he didn’t feel the same way? God, feelings were hard when the world was ending.

You ended the call and looked around you, trying to find anything of value, picking up a map and a small nightlight you could use as a torch. You weren’t entirely sure where you could go but staying where you were clearly wasn’t an option. Shoving your things into your backpack, you hesitantly walked back out onto the now quiet street, trying your best not to walk on any broken glass or rubble.

Tears began running down your cheeks as you walked, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. You had to come to terms with the idea that you were the only one left; your friends were gone and so was Eric, even if that thought killed you.

As you walked, you wished you could listen to your music to drown out the silence with the occasional bursts of screaming but you knew it was too dangerous, you had to be alert at all times.

As night started to fall, it began pouring with rain and even through your hooded jacket, you were soaked through. You ran towards some shelter as fast as you could, you ended up finding an abandoned church and slipped inside the door as quietly as you could.

Being careful to avoid the puddle from the hole in the roof and the massive hole in the floor, you made your way to one of the pews and finally rested.

Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, but you managed to get maybe a couple of hours, better than nothing, you supposed.

In the morning, you looked over your map to find the best route to South Street. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew it had to be done, even with the number of blisters you’d gotten on your feet from walking so much the day before.

Sliding off your shoes, you assessed the damage and wondered if you should trek out to find a pharmacy to get some band aids but just as you were about to put your shoes back on, you heard a commotion from the hole in the floor, with two people climbing out of it.

You froze as you slowly made your way over towards them, your heart pounding in your ears as you saw Eric. You couldn’t quite believe your eyes as you got down onto your knees next to Eric’s head, a shaky hand on his shoulder.

His eyes opened and instantly locked with yours, slowly getting up to embrace you, even if he was soaking wet. You tried your best not to cry but after everything you’d both been through, you couldn’t hold your emotions back and neither could he; you both held each other and cried quietly.

Eric refused to let you go, and you refused to let him go – even for a second. You slept together wrapped up in each other’s arms that night, finally getting some decent sleep at last.

In the morning, you could tell Sam wasn’t doing well and both you and Eric offered to go get her medication, Eric refusing to let you go. Reluctantly, you allowed him to go but not without giving him a kiss on his cheek, a silent promise that you’d see each other again.

You stayed with Sam, initially playing tic-tac-toe together but eventually getting to talk about each other’s lives before everything went down. Went to school together, had a massive crush on him you wrote on the notebook, causing both of you to laugh silently.

“He talked about you a couple times,” Sam whispered. “Always wanted to find you, now it makes sense why.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but in your heart you hoped it meant that he felt the same way about you. You kicked yourself for letting him go with just a kiss on the cheek and not a proper love confession, just more reasons to make sure he came back safely with Frodo in tow.

The four of you stayed in the church until the next morning, deciding to venture out to find Patsy’s. You and Eric never let go of each other’s hands, not for a single second.

But when you were out in the open, you’d knocked over an abandoned suitcase, the sound echoing throughout the silent streets. All four of you froze for a moment, before you knew you had to lead the monsters away to give Eric and Sam a chance.

Pressing a kiss to Eric’s lips, you pushed him away and sprinted away in another direction, screaming as much as you could to draw them towards you. It didn’t even fully occur to you that you could die in the process, but as long as Sam, Frodo and Eric made it out, that’s all you cared about.

That was the last time Eric saw you, saving his life. And all he could think about in that moment was how much time he’d wasted not telling you how he felt. And now, you were gone.

By the time Eric got onto the final boat with Frodo, he finally allowed himself to cry, to mourn over the loss of both you and Sam. At least he still had Frodo to comfort him, he closed his eyes and just stopped to listen to the purring cat in his arms until it jumped out of them. His eyes opened instantly, feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack as he looked around for that black and white cat.

Until he saw him at someone’s feet, his eyes filled with tears, clouding his vision but he could tell the person was walking towards him. Wiping away his tears, he got a good look at the person. He blinked several times, not quite believing his eyes.

It was you.

Battered and bruised, a long cut down the left side of your face, but still you.

You smiled once Eric noticed you, the cut across your face contorting a little so it almost looked like a half grimace. You took a seat next to him, handing back Frodo. “Hi,” you said, your voice a little croaky after not being used in what seemed like forever.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice just as croaky. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

You shook your head, petting Frodo. “I was almost a goner,” you pointed to your face. “But I got saved at the last second, I don’t even remember by who. I thought I’d died, but my face hurt too much. Couldn’t even see out of my left eye at first, but I knew I had to get to here.”

“You still look beautiful,” he moved a stray hair away from your face, not even flinching like most people did at seeing your cut.

You pulled a face, letting out a small hiss in pain as you forgot the cut for a moment before you rested your head on his shoulder. “So what happens now?”

Eric sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t know, but one thing I know for sure; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head once again. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all I want right here; I have you and we have Frodo.”

“Good. Even then, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go,” he whispered, capturing your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

[solaireez]

untitled 2

Luke castellan x reader

warning: its js fluff🥺 one bed trope, enemies to lovers

wc: 554

a/n: i couldn’t sleep😭😭😭 y/n’s kinda crushing on luke (who isnt) its pretty much gender neutral, i dont describe reader at all. im sorry i named this untitled again, im not creative😘

You keep tossing and turning beneath the sheets, the sheets you happen to share with Luke Castellan. The beam of moonlight creeping through the sheer curtains. The sound of his breathing kept polluting your ears.

“Can’t sleep?” his voice broke the silence. you had my back to him, refusing to face your sworn enemy. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You specifically requested twin beds. To be fair, Luke did offer to sleep on the floor, but your feelings got caught between your pride.

“Shut up.” You kept digging your face into the cold duvet. “You’re making it worse.” Groaning, you finally turned to face him.

As you turned your body, you see that he was already facing you. His scar seemed more prominent in the nightlight. His hair was pointing in different directions, some covering his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked very beautiful.

“What’s on your mind?” His voice was sore. You felt your self respect slipping away the more you look at him. Maybe if you gave him a chance he wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.

All you could do was shake your head. It’s not that you didn’t want to share. It was just that the thoughts that was keeping you awake, was all about him.

When Luke got the quest, the last person you’d expect he’d choose to come with him, was you. You two rarely talked, when you did, it was just him trying to egg you on, and then you throwing a few insults at him. And those interactions usually occur during sword fights.

“Why’d you choose me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You could see his face contort. You waited for his answer. Maybe he would just say ‘I don’t know.’ and you could finally go to sleep.

“Do you seriously not see it, y/n?” He let out a laugh. you felt his hand go beneath the covers, snaking between your fingers. You had no idea what he was talking about. You didn’t hide your confusion. He could clearly see it on your face.

He moved closer to you, still holding your hand.

“I’m crazy about you, y/n.” He let go of your hand, moving it up your body until he reached your flustered cheeks. You couldn’t get words out of your mouth. Maybe it was shock, most likely it was the overwhelming happiness you were feeling.

He was about to say something, before you crashed your lips to his. You slid your hands to his dark curls, entangling your fingers to his locks. He kissed back with more fervor, placing his hand on your waist.

You were the first to pull away, your forehead resting on his. heavy breaths clouded around you. you finally looked up at him, separating the touch. He was already admiring you, a smug smirk on his lips, before his smile broke into laughter. His laugh igniting fireworks within you.

“What?” You laughed with him. His laugh died down, hands moving back up to your face, and pulling you back in for a kiss. You could feel his smile pressed to yours. You couldn’t contain your laughter as you kiss him, making you break away. You dug your face to his neck, breathing him in, as the sound of his chuckles fill your ears.

[wh0rrorb4by]

stepbro somno! - armin vs. eren

dark content!

warnings: noncon, stepcest, somnophilia, dacryphilia, eren's is a little darker than armin's!!, 18+

18+, mdni!

armin

you wake up slowly, your mind struggling to catch up to why your pussy is clenching around something thick and long to the point that it’s hitting your cervix, moving you up the bed with each thrust. a wet dream, you initially think through your exhausted little mind. you wanted it to be a wet dream so you didn’t have to think about it, didn’t have to pry your heavy eyes open and be faced with the nightmare of your stepbrother fucking his cock into you while you slept.

armin wished you had just sighed into it, just relaxed and maybe loosened up a little so the stretch wouldn’t have stirred you so much. he wished you would have just came around him when he angled his tip against your g-spot, rather than finally opening your eyes and gasping in alarm. whatever scream or cry you were going to make was cut off by armin’s hand quickly clamping over your mouth and silencing you.

he was just as stunned as you were — his big, blue eyes staring down into your wide ones as his hips continued to slam into yours.

“f-fuck, i woke you up, didn’t i? i’m sorry,” he said in a hushed voice, his hand still pressed tightly to your face. “you weren’t supposed to wake up. just wanted to make you feel good, just wanted to see you cum.”

his words were emphasized by his length being shoved in so deep it made you scream against his hand, but hardly any noise escaped. your eyes watered, stray tears slipping down your face as your stepbrother bottomed out. your mind was still trying to catch up to what was happening, not being able to function properly from both being ripped out of your peaceful sleep and from your big brother’s cock that was stuffing you full.

you cried against his hand, struggling to breathe as you started to squirm. you tried to kick your legs but although armin was always so docile, he was still much stronger than you.

“don’t fight me, please don’t fight me,” he murmured, and he genuinely looked concerned as he stared down at you, the soft glow from your nightlight illuminating his face. “it’s only gonna make it hurt if you struggle. i don’t want to hurt my baby sister.”

he let out a choked groan as your pussy squeezed around him. he could feel your flushed cheeks burning in shame and embarrassment beneath his hand, and he was sick enough to get off on it.

“i’m gonna move my hand now, okay? don’t scream, please, i won’t hurt you if you don’t scream. do you understand?”

you nodded up at him through tears, and for the first time since he’d been introduced to you as your new stepbrother, it was hard to look at him. he hesitantly removed his hand, now using the opportunity to grip both of your wrists and pin them to the bed. you couldn’t help the gasps for air and soft sobs that escaped you, but you kept your promise.

“a-armin…”

what could you say? what were you supposed to do? you weren’t even positive this wasn’t a horrible nightmare, or even a misunderstanding. you trusted armin — you always have. you just wanted him to shush you and tell you it was all a mistake, that maybe you gave him the wrong idea or… something. armin was so smart, you were sure he could come up with something to explain why he was stuffing you full of his cock while you slept.

“aren’t you going to tell me — fuck — h-how wrong this is? you’re not going to tell me i’m sick, or even to get off of you?”

but you were already writhing underneath him, gasping as he kept hitting that one spot that made you breathless. and you were so wet, you could hear the slick noises of his cock sliding in and out of you filling up the room.

“please, y-you shouldn’t do this,” you managed to choke out, fresh tears spilling over your eyes as you stared up at him. but you weren’t sure why you couldn’t stop crying. maybe it was because your body was betraying you, and you felt so powerless and weak as your back arched and your legs spread open for him. “i w-won’t tell anyone.”

“i know, i’m such a bad big brother. you think i don’t know?” he asked, interlacing your fingers together above your head as he stilled his thrusts. you almost whined at the loss of his cockhead grinding against your g-spot, involuntarily clenching around him for some type of stimulation. he gasped, his body shaking as he dropped his forehead down to touch yours. you were breathing each other’s air now, both gasping and panting and trembling in each other’s holds.

“but i’ve always taken such good care of you, haven’t i? even when you didn’t know it, i was here taking care of you.” he muttered against your lips. and you couldn’t think about what he meant when you were still so delirious and your orgasm was just in reach. he slowly pulled back and pushed his cock in again at a mind-numbing pace, the sound of your wetness making you flush.

“fuck, do you hear that? do you hear how good i prep you?” and you wanted to tell him to stop, that it was embarrassing, but you couldn’t find the words.

“do you know how many times you’ve cum around my tongue? or my fingers? you think this is the first time i’ve done this — this is just the first time you’ve woken up.”

then he was pounding into you. so hard and so fast it was making your headboard smack against the wall, and you were gasping because you’d never seen armin like this — so out of control. you vaguely remembered how many wet dreams you started having since moving in with armin and his father, always ending with an orgasm that left you shaking and gasping and so blissful in the morning. it was armin. it was your big brother taking care of you.

“a-armin! i’m gonna…!” you gasped as you felt your orgasm sneaking up on you. your body was on fire as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper.

“i know, me too.” he shushed you, squeezing your hands. “fuck, i'm gonna cum inside my little sister. i'm gonna fill you up.”

even he was surprised when the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he didn’t have time to take it back or really think about it before you were whining and clamping down around him. and you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen when your eyes rolled back and your back arched off of the bed, body shaking as your orgasm racked your body. it was more intense than the ones he’d given you by using his tongue and fingers — he could tell just from the way you were writhing and crying underneath him. it was such a beautiful sight, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

he shoved his cock in as deep as your pussy would allow him, cumming hard inside of you. it was one of those orgasms that was blinding, and all thoughts escaped him as he leaned into the pleasure. he was cumming in his little sister, who loved and trusted him with all her heart. it was a total violation, a complete betrayal that he could never be forgiven for. maybe that's why he was almost whimpering as you reached up and pressed your lips to his, his grip on your wrists loosening and allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck. and you were grinding against him to help him ride out his orgasm, your tongue massaging his as you moaned into his mouth.

maybe he was already forgiven.

eren

you wake yourself up with a cry, one so loud and guttural that it tore through the fabric of the wet dream you were having. you realize in the midst of your alarm that you're only crying and whining and shaking because fuck — you’re cumming.

eren was so proud of himself for coaxing an orgasm out of your sleeping body, his cock twitching inside you as you clenched and squeezed around him. and maybe you would’ve convinced yourself that it was all still part of your dream if he hadn't groaned into your ear, fucking himself deeper and harder into you as you still writhed and whimpered.

he would never forget the look of horror on your face when you finally opened your eyes, your dim nightlight granting you enough light to see your step brother's face hovering over yours. the look of absolute shock and fear as he continued pounding his cock into your pussy, tears still running down your face and more pooling in your eyes -- it would be locked away in his mind forever. you were even prettier like this: eyes all glossy and mouth hung open as you tried to process how hard you just came and the overstimulation of him fucking you through it -- and the obvious shock of waking up to your big brother on top of you.

it would’ve been easy to put you to sleep again if he really didn't want you to react, or if he was worried that you might scream. he could’ve hit you just hard enough, or choked you until you blacked out, but he would have to explain the bruises in the morning anyway. and he was really getting off on you finally seeing your big brother hold you down and bully his fat cock into you.

"e-eren?" you choked out, and it was so cute how your panic was visibly starting to set in. you were squirming, more tears slipping past your lashes as you tried to bite back moans and gasps.

"fuck, knew you'd wake up," he said in a low voice, and you almost wished the room was pitch black so you didn't have to look at his smirk. "good morning, princess. how'd you sleep?"

if you were stronger, or even smarter, you would've screamed at him to get off of you. you would have called him disgusting and threatened to tell your parents, you would have cursed and shoved and shrieked.

you felt pathetic when you didn't do any of that -- just arched your back and whined as his tip kissed your cervix with each thrust, and he held you down to keep you from running away from it.

“eren… eren!” you were gasping. “w-what are you— eren — s-stop... stop!"

God, you couldn't even talk. it was miserable the way you tried to kick your shaky legs to get him off of you, and he only used the opportunity to grip your thighs and press them against your torso. you almost screamed at the way his cock slid even deeper into you, but all of the air was knocked out of your lungs from the new position.

“yeah? you want me to stop?” he rasped, and you mewled when he rolled his hips.

he wasn't trying to shush your shrieks or whimpers because he knew you. he knew how pliant and complaisant you were, especially when it came to your mean older brother. this wasn't the first time he's done something that could get him in a lot of trouble, and he knew by now that you'd cover your own mouth to keep him from getting caught.

"come on, baby, i can't hear you," he taunted, his forehead now resting against yours as he pinned you down with his hands and his body weight. "say it like you mean it."

God, he was just so mean. he loved it when you begged and pleaded with him to leave you alone. the times when he pulled you onto his lap when your parents were in the next room, or when he flipped your skirt up as you leaned over to rest on the counter or reach something -- he loved it when your cheeks turned red and you got all worked up about it. you never cried as much as you did the first time he kissed you on the lips, holding the back of your head to keep you still as he forced his tongue into your mouth as you gasped in surprise. but you still didn't scream, or tell on him, or try very hard to keep your distance. you didn’t stop wearing his shirts to bed with nothing on underneath and your door cracked open. it was practically an invitation for him.

"s-stop it, eren! p-please stop!" you whined, and he threw his head back as he pumped his cock faster and harder.

"fuck, yeah, that's it, baby. now tell me i’m sick, tell me to get off of you." he was rasping out his words now, squeezing your thighs in a bruising grip. "come on, tell your big brother it’s too big. tell me it hurts."

he was pounding into you now, and it was too much all at once for you to take, even with the strings of your wetness connecting to his cock when he pulled out. and it was so embarrassing that you were doing exactly what he wanted you to do — begging and crying and shrieking that it was “too much!” every time he bottomed out.

you got louder each time his fat tip rubbed deep inside of you and stretched you open, and he eventually had to shut you up by forcing his tongue past your lips and swallowing all of your cries. as much as he got off on making you scream, he wasn't stupid. there was a limit to just how much noise he could let you make before he really did get caught, and he couldn't let that happen. all of your screams that his cock was too big or that you were cumming again were muffled, and all you could do was whine into his mouth as he forced another orgasm out of you.

he pulled away from the sloppy kiss when he felt his own climax hurtling towards him. he'd never cum harder in his life than he did in that moment, deep in your pussy and staring down into your teary eyes and your fucked out expression. you didn't even look scared anymore — no, you were looking at him like he placed the stars in the sky as you tangled your fingers through his hair and pulled, bucking your hips up to feel him grind against your g-spot. your eyes rolled back as his cum filled you up, taking everything he gave you as he fucked you through the overstimulation.

"God, i fucking love you, you know that?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing and sucking wherever he could reach. he was still so turned on and relieved and just so happy when you nodded your head and mumbled a weak, "love you too, eren, s-so much.”

"that's right, baby, you love your big brother," he moaned, and you were crying and writhing again as he reached his hand down to toy at your clit. "knew i could fuck it out of you."

[webslingingslasher]

I AM LOVING THESE FRAT PEOER FICS, ESPECIALLY THE TEXTS THEYRE SO FUNNY, i was wondering if i could request frat peter having to save his girl from being hit on and followed by a guy (just happened to me)/ how he would react to it

ayyyyy yuhhhh, this is jumbles but i really didn't wanna seperate these parts. pls enjoy peter being daddy and doing a protec, also a lil sprinkle of spider-man

Peter’s room was pitch black. 

When you first started sleeping over, he got you a nightlight so you could navigate to the bathroom easier and you’d gotten used to the small gold it cast on the wall. Some nights when you tossed and turned you’d find yourself looking over Peter’s face as he slept, the soft glow highlighting just enough of his features. 

He hadn’t turned it on for you, but then again it wasn’t night when you fell asleep. It took you a moment to gather your surroundings, you don’t remember falling asleep and you’re not sure how long you’ve been out. You could hear music from the floor below you, it was muffled enough it wouldn’t’ve woken you. 

You smack your lips, you have cotton mouth from hell. Searching Peter’s bedside you find less than a half full bottle of water and down it. Blinking awake you sit up, you feel bleary and unwelcoming to a party but you could really use a Peter hug right now. Maybe you could swoon him into ditching his party for cuddles and a movie. 

Reaching for your phone, which had somehow landed under your pillow, you peer at the time and your eyes widen. You’d been asleep for almost six hours, you almost felt bad, you’d come over to hang out with Peter and ended up passing out in his bed. 

‘awake and alive, come see me? :)’ 

After two minutes, ‘petey?’ 

Another three pass, ‘don’t make me come find you :(( i just want a hug.’

‘i promise you can go back to the party after.’

After five minutes of being left on delivered you sigh and drop your phone to the sheets while you stretch. You turn the bedside lamp on and stand, you look down at your outfit and decide against changing back into your clothes, you’d only go down for a minute or two. 

Unprepared for everything you knew was happening, you unlock his door and step out into the bright hallway in only Peter’s frat shirt and workout shorts that were so short they were hidden under the hem of his shirt. Your feet dug into the plush carpet, you could feel how soft it was under your socks. 

You feel dizzy walking down the stairs, the music gets gradually louder until you can't hear your own thoughts, you look into the kitchen as you stepped carefully and were unsuccessful in your first attempt. When you reached the landing you rubbed an eye and yawned, you almost turned back around. 

The next place was the garage, dodging bodies as you moved through the enclosed space you held your breath when you walked through a smoke cloud. Peter wasn’t in the room, but his best friend was. You didn’t want to ruin his hang out, he was sandwiched between two girls while he shared a backwood, a hookah on the table in front of them. 

“She lives,” he smiles when you approach, he’s made the first contact so you don’t feel as bad. 

“I don’t even remember falling asleep,” you look down at your socks and bounce on your toes. 

You watch Ethan take a hit of his backwood and you eye the smoke before he reaches his hand out, “you’re drooling,” you take it and inhale deeply, blowing it out and go to pass it before taking one more hit and handing it to the girl on his right. 

“Do you know where Peter is?” 

“Uh, no. Somewhere. Wanna hang here for a sec?” He takes a puff and hands it back to you, you cough hard on a deep hit. 

“Nah, I’ll go find him, thanks though.” You nod and bow to the girls, “goodnight, ladies,” they return the sentiment. You turn back around, bumping shoulders with a stranger on your way out, you shoot an apologetic smile and slide past. 

Bracing against the wall connecting to the kitchen you look at your phone again, with no new text you frown deeply and sigh. You’re so focused on finding a white cap you don’t see the body slide next to yours, when they speak you don’t notice they’re talking to you until they say it louder. 

“You look comfortable,” your eyes flash down, you were. 

“I am,” you swivel your neck around. 

“It’s cute,” at last you look at him, he’s blonde and one front tooth is longer than the other. It’s charming on him, he has at least ten bracelets on and black fingernail polish. He’s a little interesting, you think he’s hitting on you but you give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Thank you, can you tell I wasn’t prepared for a party?” You give him a small spin, and he whistles. 

“Prettiest girl here,” you curtsy and smile politely, “that’s very kind of you.” You go back to scanning the crowd, you see a flash of navy and poke up to see the figure better, it wasn’t him. Your face drops to a frown and you sigh, the new follower leans closer. 

“Looking for someone?” 

He is hitting on you, you commended his confidence. He’s playing with fire, flirting with you at Peter’s house. You’re wearing a branded shirt, isn’t it obvious you’re with someone in it? It’s a heather gray with blood red detailing, you couldn’t miss it. 

“Parker, have you seen him?” 

Blonde shakes his head, it’s not long or curly or brown like Peter’s, it makes you look away. 

“Nah, I’ll keep you company though. I’m Connor, nice to meet you.” You eye his hand, you don’t want to shake it, you want to find Peter. In an effort to be polite you shake it and introduce yourself, he says it’s a beautiful name and you want to roll your eyes. 

“What’s a nice girl like you doing involved with Parker? He’s a dick, you know.” 

But he’s not. He can come off as abrasive but never, ever to you. With you he’s gentle and soft, he’s giggly and cuddly, he even uses baby talk sometimes, and he loves when you play with his hair. Peter’s not a mean guy by nature, but if he doesn’t know you or like you, he won’t pretend to be your best friend. 

“He’s not at all, actually. You must not know him well enough.” 

“I know him enough to know he’s a shit bag to girls, you’d be no exception.” 

“Do you think that line earned you any points with me?” 

Conner grins, “tell me, are you wearing pants under that? I hope not.” You immediately slide away from him, you frantically search for Peter in the crowd. When you can’t find him you try to find a familiar face, you know you have Ethan in the other room. 

“That’s… not an appropriate thing to say to me. Pet- Parker will have you banned.” 

His eyebrow quirks, “and he’s the good guy?” 

Your eyes narrow, “he doesn’t sexually harass me.” 

Conner scoffs, “you call that sexual harassment? If you want to cry wolf at least let me make it worth it.” You swallow harshly, you don’t like how it’s turning. You pull from the wall to go back to the garage, but Conner’s hand catches your wrist and tugs you back to him, it’s tight and you try to shake him off. 

His smile looks less charming and more intimidating, “c’mon, don’t run away now. We just started having fun.” You tug your arm back harder, he tightens his hold and you wince. Hissing through your teeth you bend your knees, leaning into his grip. 

“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” 

“But then you’ll run away, and I’m just having so much fun.” 

You blink back tears, it’s not about his tight touch it’s about being scared. 

“I’m not. I’m seeing someone, I’m sorry.” Maybe if you’re gentle he won’t be as aggressive. 

“Really? I’m not seeing him… Maybe he’s with another cheap whore.” 

You see a blur pass by your face and suddenly a hand is wrapped tight around Conner’s shirt as his back and head are thrown against the wall. Your shoulder vibrates against the drywall, the sheer force of Conner’s entire body weight flinged into it.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” His body was pulled off the wall before he was thrown back, you wince as his head smacks off the wall, you look at the assaulter and stay silent. You’ve never seen Peter so livid. 

“Get your fucking hands off her or I swear to god I’ll knock you out right fucking now!” 

Your hand is dropped and you stagger several steps back, you want to pull Peter back but he’s a little too scary to stop at the moment. You’ve never seen him in a fit of range, and not that you think he would, but you didn’t know if he’d direct that on you. 

“I should fucking kill you right now, don’t you ever put your hands on her again. Don’t talk to her, don’t even look in her general fucking direction.” 

For someone who had a lot to say he’s real quiet now, you look away when his body is thrown back into the wall, you could imagine how sore and bruised he’d be the next day. 

“Get out of my fucking house, and if I ever see you here again you won’t be walking out, do you fucking understand me?” 

A timid nod, he shuffles off holding his ribs. You almost felt bad. 

Peter turns to you the second he’s out the door, he races to your side and cups your face. 

“My baby, are you okay?” You nod, when you blink you can see how upset he was. Eyebrows turned it, cheeks flushed. His eyes were glazed over and narrowed, all he saw was an enemy. But when he looked at you his features softened, hard eyes turned into soft puppy dog eyes. A small pout took over his clenched jaw, he looked as gentle as you always knew him to be.

“You were really upset.” 

Peter’s face falls, “did I scare you? I’m sorry, trouble. I just panicked when I saw him holding you like that and you looked like he was hurting you.” You rub at your wrist, “he did.” 

He holds your hand and looks it over, red marks that would bruise his fingerprints wrapped around your wrist. “I’m so so sorry, baby. I should’ve looked at my phone sooner.” 

You breathe deeply, “it’s not your fault he was a weirdo. I just wanted a hug.” Peter feels his heart melt. “I know, I know you did. C’mere, give me a cuddle.” 

You wrap your hands under his arms around his waist, your head tucks into his chest and you listen to the metronome of his heart. Peter’s strong hold is wrapped around your shoulders, he tugs you in even closer and rests his cheek on the top of your head. You sway against him for a moment, breaths matched, your chests rise and drop at the same time. 

When you pull away you’re brought back in by Peter, something he hasn’t done before, you do it all the time. He’s never had such an urgency to have you in his hold, keep you steady against him. Keep you hidden and protected in his hold. It dawns on you that Peter was just as scared as you were, it makes you give in and melt back into him. 

“Can we go upstairs?” You use your pout and his guilt to your advantage, almost immediately he presses a kiss to your forehead and tells you ‘anything you want, kid.’ Peter’s hand held yours tight all the way up the stairs, walking behind you, protecting you from any vantage point until you reached his door. 

You didn’t even pause before hopping a few steps to his bed and jumping into it, you waited for the gentle beratement but didn’t hear anything, you poked your neck up and watched Peter scratch at his now naked curls. 

Making grabby hands you give a yearning smile, you wanted Peter all to yourself and you got what you wanted. He abides the request and sits on the edge of the bed before kicking his shoes off and shimming out of his jeans. 

The second he lays down you glue yourself to his side, you happily adjust as he does, you haven't given him any time to get comfortable. The second he gives you the ‘fine, you can lay on me’ look you tug your left thigh over his hip and sling your left arm over his chest. Your right arm bends and pulls at his air. 

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Your cheek smashes into his navy shirt as you nod, the cotton ultra soft under your skin. You peek an eye up, it’s a Ralph Lauren, you can’t deny the amazing thread count. 

“I think you should give up on the physics major, you have a way better calling.” 

Peter’s right hand started dragging down your back, his fingers tickling up your spine and back up. A comforting movement, it kept you pulling forward, Peter doesn’t give you many back rubs. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

You hum and trace spirals over his ribcage,“ever thought of being a superhero? I think you’d be alright at it.” 

Peter snorts, the implausible irony doesn’t go past him. 

“Just alright? I can’t give up my day job for ‘just alright’ can I?” 

“Okay fine, you’d be like… I can’t compare you to Spider-Man cause he’s-” your mind derails, for a second Peter’s thankful, he’s never had the Spider-Man conversation with you and as far as he’s concerned, never will. Just mentioning the name makes him feel sticky with panic. 

You stop swirling and look up at him, thinking of telling him made you bite back a grin. “If I tell you something do you promise to keep it between you and me and never, ever repeat it again?” 

“Oh jeez.” The last time you said that it was something gross and girl related. 

“I… okay, um… maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” you can’t stop giggling.  You never said the words out loud, it wasn’t necessarily embarrassing but looking back on it, it was goofy and nerdy. Telling Peter would be a huge insight into your personality. 

“Well now you have to tell me,” seeing you so giggly made him want to be too. 

“Okay, so when I was like… I dunno, sixteen/seventeen maybe? I had a huge crush on Spider-Man.” Peter’s mouth twitches, you shake your head before he can make a joke. “Just wait, and I get that sounds creepy because we-” you gesture between yourself and Peter, “we have no idea who he is, right?” 

“Right,” even if he wants to bolt from the conversation he can’t deny it’s cute. 

“But in my world I was like, no he’s definitely my age and he’s gonna totally save me and we’re totally gonna fall in love and have some weird mutant spider-babies. Side question, do you think he was born that way? Like, are there spider people walking around we don’t know of? Could Spider-Man have regular babies? If he has a baby with a human, I mean. Do you ever think about that?” 

Yes. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about reproducing with Spider-Man, so, no.” 

You’re not pleased with his lack of imagination, he could at least have fun with it. You raised a pointer finger, “we’ll circle back to this,” You continue with your story, “but, what I’m admitting to you, is my deepest, darkest secret, that I’ve never told anyone by the way!” 

You try to finish but pause and turn your head away to laugh before saying the words. 

“I used to read Spider-Man fanfiction. Like, everyday, all the time.” 

Peter’s heart lurches, it’s a downright adorable confession. Not to mention the odds of you being semi-right and things falling into place, he’s not a big universal sign guy but this is one that he might be swayed on. Cause he definitely was your age and he’s learned he can’t stop everything, it was a hard truth, but one good thing he couldn’t stop was Love. 

“Oh my god, me too!” You bat your hands at his chest, he was taking the piss.

“I told you my deepest darkest secret and that’s all I get!?” Peter grabs the hand you’re poking him with and intertwines it with his own,  “Alright, alright. I got one for you.” Your held tilts, he knows you’re saying ‘go on…’ 

 “I was fourteen with a dream, I had heard all about it from my friends and I needed one. I was ready for it, I had been preparing. How to ask for it, saving up the money, making sure the right guy was working that night. It took time and patience but I finally had it, right there in my hands.” 

A dramatic build up, it made you, metaphorically, sit on the edge of your seat. When Peter sees he’s got your attention he makes a ‘boom!’ sound effect. 

“My very first nudie mag,” you snort and he clicks his tongue, “not done yet.” 

“It was beautiful, and it was mine. I had a whole fucking book of spank bank material there, babe. This was the first time I’d ever looked at porn, and it felt like a right of passage so I’m on cloud nine. Obviously, I go straight home and the whole time I’m on the bus back I'm looking at everyone with this brown paper bag and feeling like I just got away with murder.” 

Peter laughs, “oh god, no one but my aunt May and now you know about this, okay?” 

You nod, you feel like the most special person in the house at the moment. 

“I waited hours, and finally, I’m home alone. Boom, go time. Shut and lock my door, set up the lotion and tissues, and pull that glorious brown paper bag from under my mattress. At this point I have a full on adrenaline boner, I am tugging down my pants at the speed of lighting, pull out that glossy, pristine magazine of the holy gods and open it.” 

Your smile matches the one on Peter’s face, “and it’s a guy, dick out and all. Not what I expected but cool, so I flip the page and there’s another, and another, and another and finally I’m no longer excited and I start flipping through the pages. I distinctly remember saying ‘where are the fucking girls?’ and after looking at, at least, eighteen penises, I realized it was a guy magazine, not a for guys magazine.” 

Yor smack a hand over your mouth at the sound that came out, he nods at your reaction like he expected it. “Yeah…” he drawed out the word and you cackled, “oh my god.” 

“Was there a guy on the cover?” 

“Yes! I had never seen one before and I thought that the guy meant it was for guys, not that it was full of guys!” 

“Man, I was so pissed. It cost me like thirty bucks too, cause the guy charged a tax for selling to minors. The worst part is I wasn’t sure how to get rid of it so I put it back where it was and my aunt found it like a year later and I had to have so many “you don't have to be ashamed of who you are” conversations, the whole time I’m like, rocking back and forth foaming at the mouth explaining the situation and begging her to believe me when I say I’m not gay.” 

You tug at his hair, “just so you know, you don’t have to be ashamed of who you are.” 

Peter groans, “that’s it, now you and May can never be in the same room.” 

“Yeah, right. Like you’d ever have us in the same room.” 

“Of course not, you’d team up and try and coax me out of my non-existent closet.” 

Nuzzling into him you both tease each other and more than a few times Peter finds his fingers rubbing across your ribs sending you digging into him further and further. Wheezing as you laugh and try to run away from his tickles he rolls over to trap you underneath him before kissing you. 

Peter lowered his voice, keeping it a secret, you gave him a deep, dark secret and he’ll give one back. 

“Just so you know, I’d do anything for you. I’d even let you be in the same room as my aunt.”

[1d1195]

Neighbors Extra V

Read Neighbors here | ~2.5k words

From me: based on this ask. Takes place probably in between Part 5 and Extra I

Warnings: a little angsty, a little fluffy, enjoy 💕

It was the stretch of bad weather that did it. Played a trick on his mind. It hurt to think about those weeks without his favorite people. He knew what bad weather could do to people and he knew how it could affect him. It was weird, the night before he rather enjoyed the sound of rain against the window, the slight chill in the air contrasted with the warmth coming off her from the bed. Now it seemed like a curse.

“Harry?” Rory called, hearing the thunder in the middle of the night. It made his heart ache to know Rory called Harry’s name and not for Mumma the way he usually did. Harry rolled out of bed pressing a swift kiss to her forehead despite his negativity settling into the pit of his stomach. He made his way for Rory’s room. He forgot about the frustration he felt about her and the weeks that she chose to separate them. Rory needed him.

“S’matter, lad?” Harry asked sitting on the end of his bed. There was relief in his eyes that was visible in the low light of his nightlight. That relief made Harry’s heart clench. He put his hand on his leg atop the covers and squeezed his shin.

“Is... is Mumma scared?” He asked softly.

Harry tilted his head curiously. “Mummy’s sleeping,” he assured him.

“Oh... um...” Rory was so little looking in his bed. “Mumma gets scared with thunder sometimes,” he explained. “I usually go sleep with her to keep her safe.”

Harry blamed the lateness of the hour for his slow-moving brain cells and not understanding what Rory was trying to tell him faster. “Oh?” He nodded. “I see. Well, do y’want t’come check on her?” He asked standing beside his bed and pulling the covers back.

He nodded eagerly; it was punctuated by a crack of thunder that practically shook the house. His eyes widened with fear while trying to be brave. After his little hospital stay, Harry noted how nervous Rory seemed sometimes—especially when it came to his mum and making sure she wasn’t nervous too. “That was scary,” Harry admitted and scooped Rory into his arms quickly, tucking his head against his shoulder.

“You’re scared of thunder?” He asked incredulously but didn't move his face from Harry's neck.

“Isn’t everyone?” Harry smirked without Rory seeing. “Y'know that Mummy is, me...s'like you’re the bravest one of us."

Rory squirmed a bit in Harry’s arms--like the weight of his phobia and subsequent fake-bravery was too much for him. “I think I’m a little afraid of thunder,” he whispered to Harry. Harry nodded and squeezed him.

“S’okay. S’brave of you t’want t’check on Mummy anyway.”

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” he admitted.

“Allowed?” Harry repeated.

“Because Mumma has you now.”

Harry didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the night. Not when he was feeling frustrated with the love of his life’s actions. Not when the weather was souring his mood. Not when Rory felt scared, and he didn’t know how to fix it completely.

“Rory,” Harry sighed stopping outside the bedroom. “Mummy and I are always going t’need you,” he promised. “You don’t have t’change how y’do things because m’here,” he pressed his lips against the little one’s forehead.

"Okay," he nodded.

Harry smiled at him again, ran his hand through his hair comfortingly before he headed back in the bedroom. He knelt on the bed and deposited Rory in the middle. She hadn’t moved. Probably tired from being perfect all day, Harry presumed. Rory nestled into the middle of the bed and Harry smiled softly, feeling more tired, thankfully, than when he woke up. His mind didn’t need to reel with more feelings of frustration before he fell back asleep. “Night, Harry,” Rory whispered.

Harry smiled as he drifted off. “Night Rory.”

*

The rainy night turned into a rainy day. Harry was quiet. She noticed it immediately. When she woke up with the help of her internal clock at six-thirty, she realized Rory’s little face was staring back at her. She blinked in surprise, wondering when he got there. Harry’s hand was resting protectively on Rory’s little rib cage and her heart melted so thoroughly she thought she would cry.

Swallowing the emotion in her throat she snuck out of bed to start breakfast as Rory would surely wake up with the help of his own internal clock in about thirty minutes. The rain and dark clouds made her think of her trip to the hospital in the middle of the night, quickly she shook her head of those thoughts.

As if on cue, Harry and Rory descended the stairs as she poured juice for them. “Hi Mumma!” Rory smiled excitedly. Harry released him and he scurried over to hug her legs. She bent and kissed the top of his head before returning to the scrambled eggs on the stove.

“Hi love bug,” she grinned. “Did you sleep okay?”

Rory glanced back at Harry and nodded. “Harry said I was really brave about the thunder.”

She was surprised she didn’t wake to the sound of it and moreover the sound of Rory’s little worried voice because of it. She pursed her lips and glanced at Harry as well. “Yeah?” She asked quietly.

Harry nodded. He pressed a kiss to her temple and grabbed the three glasses of orange juice to settle on the table. “Rory was braver than I was,” he repeated. “He wanted t’make sure y’were sleeping okay. Because y’get scared in the thunderstorms sometimes.”

Her heart clenched with love for the little one. More for Harry for going along with every little detail and every insecurity Rory shared with him. She smiled and nodded. “Thanks, cutie pie,” she ruffled his hair as he held onto her leg still.

Harry sat at the table. Normally, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to the position, but he didn’t really look up from his phone. He didn’t look up when she said breakfast was almost ready—when he usually hopped up to get plates, silverware, etc. Rory followed over to Harry. Joined him by sitting right on his lap, Harry moving instinctively to hold him as they examined Harry’s phone.

“Honey, can you ask Harry if it’s okay first—he might be doing something for work or—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he mumbled, interrupting her without further explanation.

“It’s highlights from the soccer game,” Rory explained.

Biting her lip, she suddenly felt a bit intrusive. Quietly, she set plates in front of the pair and then ate her own food in near silence—save for the cheers and announcers coming from Harry’s phone. It felt odd to feel left out. For so long it had been her and Rory. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she swore Harry almost seemed... annoyed with her.

After Rory started playing on his own, she would ask. Or maybe when Rory went to sleep tonight.

For now, even if she was a bit anxious about Harry’s coldness toward her, she couldn’t help but adore how sweet Harry and Rory looked at the other end of the table. The same concentrated expression on their faces as they watched his phone screen. Her heart was so full it felt illegal to be that happy. Harry kissed the back of Rory’s head without fanfare, without thinking. His phone propped against the flower vase while he ate his breakfast with one hand.

Just as quietly, she snapped a picture of the pair of them. One to send to her family as well as his for sure.

*

Rory and Harry were nearly inseparable the whole day. It allowed her to get a lot of cleaning and laundry done that had been neglected since Rory couldn’t play in the yard with the unending rainy weather. In the late afternoon, Rory asked that they play a few rounds of Candyland. So, they did. Harry smiled at Rory the whole time and chuckled every time her turn brought her back to the Peppermint Forest when she was almost to the Candy Castle.

It almost felt mean spirited.

But the boys went to play again in Rory's room after Candyland. Harry even got Rory to take a bath without the usual argument that ensued when she did. Their little day spent together right under her nose made her a little jealous—although she wasn’t sure who she was jealous of when she thought about it. They paused to have leftovers for dinner (because it was Saturday, and that was their routine) While they played, she read some of her long-neglected book that was often set to the side for room to play with her son.

“Rory wants you t’say goodnight,” Harry said quietly as he flopped onto the couch grabbing the controller off the coffee table. She blinked, glanced at the clock along the wall of the dining area and shook her head at how rapidly the time had moved.

“It’s eight already?” She asked, mostly to herself. There was no arguing, no ‘one more story,’ not even a good night kiss as had happened many nights before when Harry put Rory to bed.

He nodded anyway, scrolling through movie and show options on Netflix without even looking at her. She eyed him suspiciously the entire time she ascended the stairs to Rory’s room. “Hi Mumma,” he grinned happily. He smelled clean and fresh. His room was tidy (thanks to Harry’s kind reminders as they played, she was sure). Rory was perfect. But she may have been a bit biased.

“Hi baby,” she smiled. “Did you have fun playing with Harry today?” She asked.

He nodded. “We played so much,” it was as if he realized it all on his own and how weird of a day it was to have a playdate right near her without hardly including her.

“You did,” she grinned and kissed his forehead. “I love you. Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” She had said it to him since the day they met Harry and he had asked for clarification.

He grinned and rolled over sleepily. “I love you, too, Mumma,” he yawned. She turned his light off, ensuring the nightlight remained on. She closed the door and returned to the living room. Harry was unmoved; legs outstretched on the coffee table.

Harry shifted as she removed her book from the sofa and placed it beside Harry’s feet on the table. He was silent. Her discomfort amplified and she turned to him. “Are you...okay?” She asked. He nodded, still unspeaking. She bit the inside of her lip. “Uh...Harry, it really feels like—”

“It was really unfair,” he mumbled. His gaze was unmoving from the TV but he wasn’t watching.

“What was—”

“You just...stopped talking t’me. Y’didn’t tell me why. Rory had t’come t’me in secret t’invite me t’his game,” he reminded her. “I know why y’did,” he looked at her squarely for the first time all day. “But it hurt. And I never really got t’grieve it because you came back but it hurt,” he repeated. Her chest ached, feeling like he pierced a whole right through it.

“Harry,” she whispered, an apology forming.

He shook his head. “Y’don’t have t’say anything. S’over and m’not...” he sighed. “M’really not mad, kitten. M’not. S’jus’ the crummy weather made me think of it. Playing with Rory all day made me think ‘bout all those weeks I didn’t have with him. S’not fair and s’not anyone’s fault. M’jus... sad.”

Her heart felt shattered. “But—”

“You don’t have t’say anything.”

But she felt like she did. Harry resenting her felt like a very real possibility and it terrified her. “You’ll resent me.”

“Of course I won’t,” he turned to her with such fierceness in his eyes she felt as if the sun had finally broke the cloud barrier after their long weak of rain. “I know why y’did it. But m’sad about it,” he grabbed her hand. “I trust you that it won’t happen again,” he kissed her knuckles. “M’sorry I was cold today. I jus’ never got t’process or tell you how it felt.”

Well, if it was worse than this moment--and she was sure that it wasn’t even a fraction of the anguish and hurt Harry felt at the time--then she didn’t want to ever make him feel that way again. Didn’t want to experience it herself in any manner—even if Harry very much deserved to make her feel the way she made him feel.

“Harry,” she repeated. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. Tongue-tied, confused, and unsure. Things she rarely felt since she had Rory because she couldn't. “I... I don’t know how to—”

“Kitten,” he squeezed her hand. “M’not mad. M’not going t’hold it against you. But I needed to tell you, so I don’t.”

“Harry,” she felt like a broken record.

“Beautiful,” he echoed in the same tone. “M’not mad,” he promised.

She crawled across the couch, curled in his lap and nuzzled against him in a way that a grown woman had no business to do. Tears stung behind her eyes and her breath felt shallow in her lungs. “I was an idiot,” she whispered hoping it would ease the ache, the fear she felt of losing Harry when she had only started to have him.

“Oh, kitten,” he cooed. “Y’might be the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met,” he assured her running his hand up and down her back. “I was mean today. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You should have punched me in the face.”

He chuckled. “Never in a billion years, love,” he brushed her hair out of her face. “You didn’t need t’do it, but I get it.”

“I didn’t. I shouldn’t have. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“M’telling you, you don’t need to. I won’t behave poorly like I did today again.”

Her heart felt so broken--she was afraid to speak. Worried it would just come out in a mess of sobs that Harry would unfairly have to comfort. “I can’t even believe you’re apologizing for your behavior. It was my own doing.”

“Angel,” he kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose. “You did what you thought was best as a mum. M’never going t’fault you for that; just...” he smiled and shook his head. “Tell me beforehand next time, yeah?”

She snorted. “I won’t ever let there be a next time,” she vowed. He winked at her, cupped her face with his hands that she missed gently caressing her and touching her in between playing with Rory, all day long. Gently, he pressed his lips to hers to seal the promise.

--

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neighbors taglist: @claimingharrystigertattoo @mopeymousey @vmpellie I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒞𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝓁ℯℯ𝓅．

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, r! is 7/8, insomnia, likes in prison yippee

A loud crash and bang had you waking up, looking around the room, still thinking you were home for a moment. You realized you were still in the guest room of the Chateau.

You let out a quiet whimper at the loud noises coming from the living room, noticing you were completely and utterly alone right now.

You desperately tried to go back to sleep, trying everything your brother had told you. You tossed and turned, counting sheep, nothing worked. The noises got louder.

You bolted for the door, your little clammy hands reached for JJ’s, searching for them as your feet padded against the hardwood floors.

He didn’t even notice you until John B nodded his head towards you, Jj turning around to see you right next to him, your hands on his shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows, turning to you.

“What’s up, tiny? Whatchu doin’ awake?” He asked you, motioning for you come in front of him. You stood in front of him, holding your stuffed animal in front of you and looking down.

“I can’t sleep.” You admitted to him quietly.

“Can’t sleep, huh? You try counting sheep and shit?” He scratched at his jaw, looking down at you.

“I tried everything, jay! I can’t sleep.” Your bottom lip quivered, and JJ furrowed an eyebrow, noticing your expression.

“Go in the room, I’ll be there in a sec, ‘Kay?”

You just nodded, wordlessly walking back into the room.

“Ima go put her to sleep. I’ll be back.” He sighed out to his friends, standing up and following you into the room.

He shut the door, turning on a nightlight and sitting on the bed as you laid down, he moved the hair out your eyes, watching you pull the covers over you.

“What’s wrong, peaches? You ain’t usually like this.”

“I wanna go home.” You told him, laying down and looking up at him. He looked down.

“We can’t.”

“But why?” You whined, demanding an answer.

“Because… because… dad’s in a spot where he can’t right now. Like… you remember last time where we stayed at Uncle Ricky’s, right? This is like that.” He told you.

“How long do we have to be here for?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “But if you want anything from home, I’ll go get it for you. What do you want?”

“I want to go home, jay!” You repeated, louder this time, letting it out in a cry. Jj frowned, trying to hug you, but you kicked and flailed in his arms, he let you throw a temper tantrum, screaming and crying in his arms, letting the whole house hear.

He held you the whole time. “I know, y/n, I know.”

He had been so desperately trying to get you to get used to living here for a little. He bought you every toy you pointed at in the shelves at the store, saved up every bit of money to buy you food and anything else.

But still, it had been a month, and the sudden change confused you, startled you. You didn’t know what was going on.

Eventually, you stopped crying, JJ looked at you in his arms, taking a peek, only to see you passed out, holding his waist as you snored into his shirt.

A soft smile made its way onto his face. And then the tears fell, he looked up at the ceiling, trying desperately to try and stop his crying. He smiled while he silently sobbed, moving his head to rest it on top of yours, giving you a small kiss on the crown of your head.

————

“Hey.” JJ muttered to John B, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he went over to the kitchen.

“Hey. Are you good, dude?”

“I’m hungry.” He retorted, grabbing an apple off the counter, taking a bite into it.

“I mean yesterday… sounded pretty intense.”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know. She just wants to go home. I don’t know how to… I mean, how the hell do you explain that to a kid?” He looked up to John B.

“Like, yeah, sorry kiddo, daddy sucks and is in prison for fuckin’ God knows how long because he’s a loser addict.” He trailed off, scoffing before taking another bite of the apple. “I don’t know how to tell her. And I cant not tell her because I’m afraid she’s gonna hold a knife over me while I’m sleeping.”

“She’s not gonna hold a knife over you, Jj.��� John B rolled his eyes. “Look, that girl adores you, she’s just confused right now. But you know who she needs? Her big brother.” John B shoved his shoulder lightly. “Just… give it a little.“

“I know, I know.“ JJ sighed.

You came out the room, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands, eyes squinting to adjust to the light. You looked at JJ and John B in the living room, their eyes going to you.

“Hey, y/n.” John B spoke with a small smile, giving you a small wave, turning back Jj and raising his eyebrows, giving him a look he knew. Jj waved him off, looking back at you.

“Hey, kid, you hungry?” He asked you. You just nodded.

John B’s words played over and over in his mind.

“But you know who she needs? Her big brother.”

JJ hopped off the counter, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets, repeating the words in his mind.

He didn’t need his dad, he didn’t need anyone else to tell him how to raise you. He could do this.

[naturesapphic]

could I maybe request Caregiver Natasha and Little fem reader who doesn’t wanna go to bed?

Bedtime Troubles

Mommy!natasha romanoff x fem!little!reader

Warnings: age regression, reader having a attitude

“Come on y/n…put up your toys. It’s time for bed.” Natasha said sternly as she’s been trying to get you to pick up your toys and go to bed. It was no use, you didn’t want to stop playing with your toys, you didn’t want to go to bed just yet.

“Nu! Nu wan to go to beds!” You whined out as you didn’t want to stop playing with your toys just yet. Natasha gave you a stern look and you hugged loudly and threw your toys back in your toy chest and angrily stomped out of the room and went into the bathroom.

You slammed it shut and locked yourself in there while your mommy was shocked at your anger y behavior. “Y/n sweetie. You know we don’t slam and lock doors. Why don’t you come out and we can talk baby.” Natasha said calmly through the door. “Nu!” You yelled out and Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose, getting frustrated.

“Come on princess. Let mommy help you. If you go ahead and come out, I won’t punish you for slamming the door and locking it.” She stated sternly. After a few moments you unlocked the door and slowly opened it, peeking your head out to see your worried but frustrated looking mommy.

You felt bad for how you acted but in your mind you had a reason to. Natasha went over and picked you up in her arms and headed towards y’all’s shared bedroom. She sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, putting her hands on your knees. “Why don’t you want to go to bed little spider.” Natasha asked you softly as she gives you a loving look.

You looked down ashamed and started playing with your hands and your mommy gently takes them in hers and rubs them softly. “It’s okay babygirl. You can always talk to mommy.” She reassured you and you nodded. “I Nu like da dark…” you said quietly but Natasha heard it.

“You don’t like the dark angel?” She repeated and asked you to make sure she understood what you said. “Nu wike it…it’s scarys.” You explained and she nodded. “I understand that baby and you are in luck because I thought you may like this.” She said and you looked up at her confused until she went into the closet and a pulled out a nightlight that has your favorite cartoon show on it.

You gasped and smiled big at the sight of it. “I wuv it! Tank chu mommy!” You said happily as you run up to her and give her a big tight hug. She smiles and hugs you back just as tight. “You’re welcome love bug. Now, let’s get you tucked into bed and see how this light works.” She explained and you nodded your head exitedly.

She helped you put your pjs on and watched you brush your teeth. She then picked you up and tucked you into the bed and got your new night light and put it on the wall near your side of the bed and it shone bright on the ceiling. You gasped in amazement and continued to watch up at the ceiling.

Natasha did her own nightly routine and joined you in the bed and saw how happy and calm you were. She smiled to herself and watched you drift off to sleep, knowing that you still may be scared of the dark but at long as she was here, she would never let anything happen to you. Her little spider.

A/n: I hope you liked this anon! And I hope the rest of y’all enjoyed it too. Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

[mikkomacko]

Dad!Nico x Reader

A/n: For all my Devs fans that need some soft thoughts tonight 🫶

————————————————————

Thinking about Jersey Leeds Nico coming home from the game tonight all head hung low and droopy eyes.

Jersey is already asleep, the two of you having left the arena early tonight in order to keep her sleep schedule going smoothly.

Nico finds you in the bedroom, dragging his feet until he’s in the doorway and you look up from where you’re doing laundry on the bed to his sad pleading eyes watching you.

“Oh come here my darling,” you coo, immediately holding out your arms for him. Nico curls into you, lets you hold him as he just sags under the weight of the season. You coax him into the bathroom, peeling him out of his suit and shoes with tender fingers before running him a bath.

Nico pouts as he lays in the warm water, feeling pathetic with you sitting on the tile floor beside the tub. Stroking through his over grown hair, you don’t push him to speak and instead allow him to wallow and sink into that empty feeling in his tummy.

A moment passes, the baby monitor on the counter crackles and Nico glances over at it with wet eyes.

“She’s fine,” you assure him, but he knows that. Jersey’s developing the habit of babbling in her sleep and it always disturbs the monitor.

“I’m sad,” Nico finally mumbles. “Wanted a cup for the team, for her, for you . . . M’just pouting in a bathtub now.”

You don’t say anything, just let him speak. By the way his gaze has unfocused you know he’s just venting his thoughts, the things he couldn’t say to media today.

“Last year was the best year of my life. We were good, I was playing and feeling good. Jersey, god don’t get me started on Jersey. She deserves so much better-“

Frowning, you cup his jaw and make him look at you. “Jersey loves her daddy,” you insist “she’s so proud of you and loves watching you play. There’s always set backs Nico, always mistakes and failures, but you have not failed at being an amazing father to our daughter.”

Blinking softly, Nico sniffles and nods, pressing into your palm. “I want to see her,” he tells you “but I don’t want to wake her.”

Shrugging, you get up and motion for him to get out of the tub. You wrap him up in a towel, draining the water while he dries off and slips on some boxers and shorts.

Then, on careful tiptoes you sneak into the nursery where Jersey’s little snores are filling the air. The ballerina nightlight casts silhouettes of dancers and bows on the roof and walls, bathes the room in a peaceful glow.

Nico sneaks up beside her crib, grips the side of it in his hands and peers down at her. You press into his side, an arm around him to rub up and down his bare back.

Jersey is sleeping peacefully, thick eyelashes brushing her cherub cheeks and her lips quiver as she coos little noises to herself.

“That’s your fault,” you whisper fondly “all those bedtime nonsense stories when she was in my belly and now she can’t sleep without talking.”

That empty part in him shrinks, fills up with the love swelling in his heart. Everyday she gets bigger and bigger, and with that his adoration and devotion to being her father grows with it.

A year later and she’s his proudest accomplishment. And he thinks that no amount of Stanley Cups, goals, medals or playoffs appearances can ever top that.

Nico Hischier didn’t win on the ice this season, but he won at everything else.

[mustainegf]

Hi, I had thought a story between James Hetfield ( maybe in the 90s) x wife!reader based on the song "November rain" by Guns N' Roses.

I wish it was sad ( I know, I like sad things. That's why i chose this wonderful song) I hope you like this idea.

Lots of love

I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do a fic based on a song… but- I think this turned out pretty weak and probably not what you were looking for (I had a little bit or writers block but that didn’t stop me from at least delivering SOMETHING

𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ¹⁹⁹⁷

I was standing in the kitchen, lost in clattering dishes and the slosh of the dishwasher. Mundane sounds from every day created a comfortable background, but then one new, soft, very familiar melody crawled inside.

It was the opening piano notes of "November Rain" by Guns n' Roses, right there, laid out, a song that I hadn’t heard in a while.

Curiously, I dried my hands on the dish towel and followed the sound. It led down the hallway, past the living room, and toward the nursery.

With every step, the sweet melody became more clear, pulling at memories long tucked away for safe keeping.

I paused at the nursery door, letting the soft glowing nightlight bleed into the quiet hallways. Inside, I peeked inside, only to feel my heart squeeze in my chest.

James sat in the rocking chair, holding our baby daughter in his arms. His head was only slightly bowed, watching her as he softly crooned the words of the song.

His voice, which was normally gritty and powerful, was so loving and soothing now, curling itself around the words in a way that I knew he’d only ever do for his child.

"Sometimes I need some time on my own," he sang, the lines laced delicately with love. "Sometimes I need some time all alone."

I slipped quietly into the room, not wanting to break their moment, yet not able to walk away. James looked up and directly at me, he beamed humbly, continuing to sing, eyes never leaving mine.

I moved closer, where I could see how our daughter's small fingers were locked onto one of his. She stared up at him with wide, saucer eyes.

"This song," he whispered, then stopped singing and smiled. "Ahhh, it reminds me so much of your mommy. Do you know that I danced to this song with your mommy when we first met?” He cooed to her.

That night is as fresh in my mind as if it was only yesterday, the way he pulled me onto the dance floor despite my protests, how I was so glad he did, because I fell so in love with him.

"We were at this dive bar," James went on, gently rocking. "Your mommy didn't want to dance at first. But I wouldn't take no for an answer. Then this song came on and, man, I think she changed her mind. And now look, we’ve got you."

It brought tears to my eyes. He looked down at our daughter, his face soft.

"Your mommy looked so beautiful that night," he whispered. "She still does, every day. This song became our song. And now, it's yours, too sweetheart."

He eyes fluttered, tiny breaths evening out, and she slipped off to sleep at his voice.

"I know it's hard to keep an open heart," he sang, his eyes meeting mine again. "When even friends seem out to harm you. But if you could heal a broken heart, wouldn't time be out to charm you?"

The words seemed to take a new meaning for me standing there, our love, and the new life brought into this world together.

The music finally stopped, and James rose his gaze to mine, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you," he said so easily, like smooth melting butter. "I love you more every day."

I walked over to him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I love you too," I whispered. "So much."

He carefully shifted our daughter to one side so I could sit beside him on the arm of the rocking chair. I perched there, wrapping one arm about his shoulders while resting my head against him.

Together we watched our daughter sleep, her tiny chest steady rise and fall.

[wttcsms]

time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader  word count 3.3k  synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out. 

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less. 

I’m the man of the house. 

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore. 

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide. 

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley. 

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does. 

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone. 

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it. 

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to. 

He can’t sleep. 

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result. 

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move? 

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now. 

Will you come back then? 

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to. 

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really). 

You’re calling him. 

And true to his word, he’s on his way. 

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives. 

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.” 

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous. 

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her. 

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him. 

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold. 

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it. 

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly. 

“It’s perfect.” 

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night. 

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight. 

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly. 

“Must get it from you, then.” 

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you. 

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride. 

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised. 

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt. 

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth. 

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete. 

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that. 

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything. 

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth. 

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more. 

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady. 

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him. 

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love. 

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear. 

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.” 

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two. 

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds? 

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy. 

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round. 

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya? 

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach. 

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete. 

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare. 

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs. 

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you. 

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own. 

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.” 

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy. 

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

[rainylana]

“Can’t sleep?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you and eddie can’t sleep.

warnings: mentions of postpartum, mentions of abuse and eddie’s dad, so much fluff it may kill you, mom reader! dad eddie!



When he couldn’t sleep, he watched his baby. Watched her breath, stir in her sleep and make little noises and huffs. He’d pull up an old rocking chair wayne had given him, sit there with a pillow behind his back, often falling asleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

Her nursery was rainbow themed, pinks and purples everywhere with big, white clouds. Her crib had stars painted on them and glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling. In the day time, the room was bright and colorful, but it was dark now, only the glow of the neon stickers above his head and a revolving fish nightlight on the nightstand across the room.

His eyes dropped closed, but he didn’t want to fall asleep, didn’t want to miss a moment of watching his darling angel sleep. Little Joanna Munson.

Being a father had completely changed his life for the better, but it was also the scariest thing he’d ever had do to. He worried about so many more things, things he’d never had to worry about before. But the most overwhelmed thing so far was the love that he had in his heart. He didn’t think he’d love anything more in the world than you when the both of you met, but his heart grew another size when you gave birth to her, and he was absolutely, unconditionally in love with his baby, so much that it almost hurt.

It made him love you so much more, so grateful for giving him something so precious, something that was a part of him to live on. He was indebted to you, forever grateful. He worshipped you like a god, admired all the things your body could do. You struggled with postpartum a lot, something he tried his best to understand, helped as best as he could. He tried his best to take care of Joanna as much as he could, not that he minded it. She was only two months old, but he knew she was incredibly smart. She was already wrapping her tiny hand around his finger, pulling at his hair and staring at him with her big, brown eyes that she had gotten from him.

“Can’t sleep?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiling softly when he saw you. He shook his head, beckoning for you to come over. You did so, sitting on his lap and cuddling up to his chest, smiling at your baby in the crib. He leaned his head against yours, wrapping his arms around your body as he slowly rocked the chair. “What you doing up?” He asked quietly.

“Woke up and you were gone.” You yawned. “Knew you were in here. Has she stirred any?”

He shook his head. “Nah, she’s fast asleep.”

You closed your eyes, his soft breathing a lullaby for you, his body warm and comforting. Eddie still wouldn’t close his eyes, trained on the pink onesie and head of hair that he could see in the dark. Sometimes he cried when he watched her, he wouldn’t dare tell you that, but he did.

“I’m so in love with you.” Eddie squeezed you. “I can’t ever thank you enough for giving me this life. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” You said sleepily. “How many times do I have to say it? You deserve this, us.”

He kissed your forehead, his cheek against your ear. “I never thought I could love anything as much as I do her. It’s terrifying, loving someone so much.”

“I know.” You opened your eyes, finding your daughter in the dark. “It’s so overwhelming, isn’t it? Sometimes I think my heart is going to explode.”

He nodded in agreement, parting his lips in deep thought. That’s it exactly what it felt like. His heart was going to explode. “She’s so perfect, isn’t she? And so small.”

You chuckled, your feet curled up on his thigh. “Thank you. I take most of the credit for that.”

“Honey, you get all the credit.” He smirked. “She’s your exact replica. You can definitely tell she’s your baby.”

“She’s your baby, too, sweetheart.” You looked to him, cupping his cheek. “She may have my hair and my nose, but she’s got your eyes, and that is a telltale sign that she’s your baby.”

His heart warmed at your words, his cheeks blushing in the dark. “Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?”

You smiled tiredly, grabbing his jaw with your fingers to pull his lips down to yours, giving him a sweet, delicate kiss. “You’re a wonderful father, Eddie.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I’m terrified I’m gonna end up like my old man.”

“Eddie,” You sighed. “I promise you that’s not going to happen.”

It was his worst fear, a nightmare that he feared would eventually come true. He’d drive you away, raise a child that he’d beat and abuse, who would later grow up to hate him. He didn’t want his family to repeat the one he’d had before.

“Hey,” You noticed the swell of his eyes in the dark. “Eddie, look at me, baby.” You held his cheek. “You are not your father. You’re not going to be your father. You’ve got me and her to keep you steady, just like you keep me steady, right? We’re a team. You don’t let me fall, I don’t let you fall.”

He let a tear fall, nodding and whispering a choked yeah. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek as you held him tightly through the night.

[acourtofclutter]

Nightlight (Part 2 of 4)

"All the laughter... waiting for ever after..."

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary (Now Pixie!) Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles, 885 words.

Summary: Amarantha was High Queen of Prythian now, and you had become her cronies' new plaything while Rhysand was somewhere out of sight, out of reach. You endured her ongoing torment, but at least Rhysand was safe and had not been harmed - right?

Tags: Heavy Angst, Hurt / Little To No Comfort, Depictions of Violence, Torment, and SA, Set During Under The Mountain, Things Get Worse Before They Get Better

Notes: A continuation of my previous post, thank you for reading!

Update: The third part can be read here!

You were tossed into an old silver lantern when Amarantha finished using you as an example for what other spells she could cast on the high lords and their courts. You could hardly make out what she said from within the lantern, her voice muffled, but you heard the words ‘new plaything’ before she passed you to the Attor.

And when the Attor had taken you away from Rhysand, from the party, you placed a hand on the lantern’s glass and tried to reach his mind, to tell him that he was not responsible for what was happening – but there was nothing but a few drops of magic left in your new body, and that was all that would remain.

The first thirty years of your imprisonment mostly consisted of the Attor and the other dark faeries drowning you in faerie wine and making you sing and dance for them when they were bored and had nothing else to do. You were nothing but a pretty songbird to them, and they would poke and prod at your body to hear the sounds of bells leave your mouth.

“Why’d you stop?” They hissed, their talons and claws gripping your head and shoulders to make you stand upright, but it was no use. They had emptied three bottles of faerie wine, the amount too much for you to handle as you collapsed on the table and threw everything up. But they wouldn’t stop, not now, not when the night was long.  Instead, they made you their little doll and forced your body into various poses and positions that would’ve had you screaming if you were sober. You could hear them laughing and sneering at you, but the room was spinning and you couldn’t do anything but close your eyes, waiting for it to end. By the time they were done, they had left you on the table in that puddle of wine, your hair and body stained red. You couldn’t wash off the stench, but you had crawled back into your lantern and made yourself small, your body trembling as you cried yourself to sleep.

You hadn’t seen or heard Rhysand during that time, and you had convinced yourself that Amarantha hadn’t done anything to him, that all she had done was kill half of his court and turn you into a pixie. But on the thirty-first year of your imprisonment, on the night of Starfall, she had your lantern moved to her bedroom.

“I thought you would like a change of scenery,” Amarantha purred. “It is Starfall, in case you had forgotten.” She placed your lantern on-top of her dresser and had it face her bed before the door opened and someone else entered the room. You couldn’t stop the broken chime that left your throat, the sound making those old violet eyes meet yours for a moment before she spoke again. “I thought I would give you a surprise, Rhysand,” she smiled. “For servicing me and my body all these years.” You didn’t recognise your High Lord, not when he was wearing those exposing sheer clothes and turned to Amarantha with a smile. You thought it was a trick, an illusion, that she had merely found some other high fae who resembled him well enough. Those thoughts faded when a familiar darkness surrounded you as she beckoned Rhysand to her bed, making it nearly impossible to see or hear what was happening, what he was doing. But you had known, and that was all it had taken for you to fall apart.

From that night onwards, you remained in Amarantha’s bedroom for ten more years, and Rhysand would continue to pull that darkness over your eyes and ears. It didn’t take long before you became unresponsive and stopped chiming, and eventually she asked Rhysand to move your lantern to another room.

You had thought he’d take you to a room with more dark faeries, but he placed your lantern on-top of a bed in a dark and unused room. You didn’t dare move, didn’t blink until he finally spoke your name, your eyes meeting his for a moment before they welled up with tears, the sound of cracked bells filling the room.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured. “When she shoved you into the lantern and ordered the Attor to take you, I thought that was it.” Rhysand leaned down, his arm outstretched and his hand upward. When you walked to his palm, he slowly lifted you up until you were close to his star-speckled violet eyes. “Through the hardships, and to the stars,” he said, the words evoking a distant memory. It was something the two of you had told each other before you attended a meeting with the Illyrian lords or a conference with Keir. They reminded you that regardless of the long hours or the late nights, that you had been doing this for something important, something that involved a distant night sky with faces that you couldn’t remember, but loved nonetheless. He placed you back down on the bed before turning to leave, most likely being summoned by Amarantha, but he turned back to look at you one more time. “We’ll get through this, I promise.” And with those words, you slowly put yourself back together.

[starry-hughes]

baking (quinn hughes)

day 18 of star’s ficmas

quinn hughes x mom!reader - daisy’s au

Before Christmas, on the 21st, Quinn was in Dallas. He hated when he had to be on road trips right before the holidays. You and your one and a half year old daughter were at home in Vancouver. Quinn played on the 23rd and then the three of you would fly to Michigan.

Quinn was exhausted from the whole roadtrip, he missed you and Daisy. It was the night of the 22nd, almost midnight when he arrived home. Two years ago, if you would have asked him what he was missing for Christmas, he didn’t know what to say. That was before you came along and before the two of you started hooking up, before you got pregnant and before Daisy came along.

Daisy was a baby for her first Christmas so this year, she was running around, yanking ornaments off the tree and crying whenever she saw Mall Santa.

Quinn was traveling home after the game in Dallas. It was late and he was tired. He still had to come home and pack for Michigan and all he wanted was to curl into the bed with you and Daisy.

He wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake when he got home, it was late. He unlocked the door and saw the Christmas lights on and giggling from the kitchen. He saw packed suitcases by the door, you had packed everything for him.

“I think it’s someone’s bedtime,” Quinn broke out into a smile as he entered the kitchen. Daisy was in her pajamas and wide awake. “Daddy!” she screeched and jumped off her stool ran over to him. “Hi baby,” he said and picked her up. Quinn carried her over to you, he kissed you softly. “Welcome home, Daisy couldn’t sleep,” you said.

Quinn looked at the counter, seeing rolled out cookie dough with cookie cutters. “Making cookies?” he looked at Daisy. “Santa! At gamma’s!”

“That’s right baby, Santa knows you’re at grandma’s this Christmas,” you smiled. Quinn let Daisy down on the floor after she was wriggling in his arms. “Daddy help!”

Quinn happily put on the pink apron Daisy brought over for him. The three of you worked on cookies, using the cookie cutters and putting them into the oven. You taught her how to crack eggs open and Quinn was helping her whisk in the flour gently. Daisy was getting tired, she had left her little stool and begged for you to hold her. “Baby, do you want to decorate cookies?” you asked.

“We can package them up and she can decorate them at the game or on the flight tomorrow,” Quinn suggested. Quinn pulled the cookies out to cool and Daisy had fallen asleep on your shoulder. Quinn turned on her nightlight in her bedroom and you placed her into bed and tucked her in. Her mini Christmas tree sat on her dresser all lit up, along with the small menorah.

It was super late now, but you wanted the kitchen clean. “Quinn honey you can sleep, I know you’re tired.” He shook his head. “I want to be in bed with you so let me help.” You packed up the cookies and decorating items for Daisy. You finished up everything and Quinn said he would be in the bedroom right after you, he was finishing up drying one of the cookie sheets. “Hey,” he called, pulling you into him, he had put down the drying towel, “I love you. Merry Christmas.”