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peachylynnie · 11 days ago

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gift exchange

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: in which you get sick on christmas, and sylus is there to make it better.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating but sylus is down bad), christmas themes, a singular reference to his myth, a singular reference to grassland romance, mentions and consumption of food, suggestive themes, cursing, angst, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick. again. on christmas too. you know what that means. sylus time! on a related note, i hope everyone had a wonderful christmas. my rafayel fic is gonna upload soon as well. enjoy! reblogs and comments always welcome! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

you curse as you rip open a hot chocolate packet. "sick on christmas," you grumble as you pour the contents into a mug. "how the fuck is that even possible."

of course, anyone can get sick at any time. it's inevitable. but, seriously? of all the days the pain in your throat and ears could have appeared, it just HAD to be on fucking christmas day. sure, it's not like you had any plans. normally you would celebrate with grandma and caleb by feasting on countless dishes and singing christmas songs from an old karaoke machine caleb swears isn't broken. but they're not around anymore.

you sigh miserably as you trudge over to the water dispenser for hot water, not wanting to think about your lost family. as you press the button for hot water, you lean against the dispenser, trying to figure out what you're going to do for the rest of the day. you were planning on visiting the market to make a nice dinner or perhaps order takeout at your favorite restaurant. but those are no longer viable options since your throat is killing you and your ears are incessantly burning. maybe you can order delivery? but that means you're going to have to clean up afterward, and you did NOT want to clean anything at the moment, especially with the state you're in.

shaking your head, you bring your mug back to the kitchen counter and search for a spoon.

"water for hot chocolate? i'm disappointed, sweetie."

you jump, an "oh, fuck!" leaving your mouth. sylus had materialized in front of you, a plastic bag in his left hand and a present box in his right. not like you noticed though. you were too startled by his sudden appearance. "what the fuck, sylus?! can't you knock?!"

"no," he deadpans, placing the bag and box on the kitchen counter. his fingers make quick work of untying the double knot on the bag. "besides," he spares you a glance. "i don't think someone who uses water to make their hot chocolate deserves a knock."

you roll your eyes. of course he fixates on that and doesn't explain why he's in your crappy apartment slandering you instead of downing at LEAST three glasses of wine in his luxurious penthouse on christmas day too. "well, screw me for being lazy, i guess," you mumble, crossing your arms.

"don't tempt me."

"huh?"

"what?"

you shoot him a look before grabbing your mug and heading to the other side of the kitchen counter. sitting on your squeaky high chair, you ask, "why are you here, sylus?"

he takes out a styrofoam container and opens its lid. immediately, the comforting smell of miso greets you. as sylus opens a cabinet to retrieve a pot (you don't question how he knows where to find it), you try to look at what else is in the plastic bag. tilting your upper body, you notice another container and hope it has some rice inside. what you don't notice is sylus' breath hitching when he turns back to you after pouring the miso soup into the pot and turning on the stove.

you were wearing a nice, loose top in your favorite color. except, its neck portion was completely cut off, leaving your collarbone and shoulders deliciously exposed. and because you were leaning on your side to take a look at what he had brought you (he loves when you're curious about anything involving him), the sleeve was slowly yet surely sliding down your arm, threatening to show a cup of your bra.

sylus instantly turns back to the stove, even though the miso soup shows no signs of boiling. rubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head. no, he's not here to ogle at you (the top looks really good on you, and fuck, did your bra cup your breasts really nicely). he's here to take care of you. earlier, mephisto alerted him you were taking some cough drops. and knowing you, you probably didn't have any food on hand to sustain you through your sickness, given his last (secret) visit to your apartment to stock your (empty) fridge. taking a deep breath, sylus returns to the kitchen counter, reaching for the other container. he notices your inquisitive eyes.

"i'm here because it's christmas." he opens the container, and to your delight, it's omurice. marveling at how fluffy the omelette looks and how savory the fried rice appears, you almost miss his answer.

"huh?" you frown. "you're here because it's christmas?"

"is that not what i just said?" sylus jests as he plates the omurice and places it in your microwave.

"well," you start carefully. "shouldn't you have better things to do? like take luke and kieran shopping or pop open another bottle of wine because woo! christmas!"

the silver-haired man shakes his head with a chuckle, propping his hands on the kitchen counter. you try not to focus on his exposed forearms too much. forget the omurice and miso soup; you'll take his arms instead.

"first of all, luke and kieran are busy—"

"on christmas?!"

"yes, sweetie, on christmas." he raises a brow at you for interrupting. you drag your sleeve back up sheepishly.

"second of all, what makes you think i haven't already indulged in a bottle of wine today?" he tilts his head and crosses his arms, gazing at you with a hint of amusement in his ruby eyes.

you pout and look away. "fair point, i guess."

enjoying your cute reaction, sylus returns his attention to the stove. pleased to find the miso soup boiling, he turns off the stove and takes out a bowl from your cabinet (again, how does he know where to find that?). using a ladle to pour into the bowl, he hums a little tune. you try not to snicker at how terrible he sounds. after sliding a bowl of soup and a plate of omurice to you, sylus plants his elbows on the counter and rests his chin on a palm, allowing him a perfect view of his beloved (though you don't know you're his beloved yet; luke and kieran called him a loser before getting their asses handed to them).

"uh," you look at sylus, then at the food, and then sylus again. "you're not going to eat?"

he shakes his head. "i already ate before coming here."

hesitantly, you pick up your utensils. "you know you technically haven't answered my question, right?"

"i'll tell you once you finish." sylus responds immediately. it's almost as if he knew what you were going to say.

no longer wanting to torture your stomach, you cut into the omurice and take a bite. "mmm!" you cover your mouth as you chew. the softness of the egg, the savoriness of the fried rice—oh, you're in heaven. "this tastes really good, sylus!" you take a sip of the miso soup as well. not only does the warm broth soothe your throat, but the spice that comes with it clears up your sinuses, ceasing the burn in your ears.

the man in front of you can't help but smile at the sight. you, in your most vulnerable, beautiful state, enjoying his cooking. he could die a happy man here. and it wouldn't be the first time his cause of death is you. not that he minds or anything.

"thank you, sylus." you take a few more bites before swallowing. "seriously, i needed this."

"i know, sweetie," he says gently. "i know."

you glare at him, but not with as much malice as you used to. "did mephisto snitch on me or something?"

sylus lets out a laugh before grabbing the present box and joining you on the other side of the counter. "he simply saw a poor little hunter in need of some saving."

"since when does being sick mean needing saving?" you mutter as you set your utensils down, having finished the meal. you make a mental note to ask where he got the food. you're definitely going to visit wherever this exquisite meal came from (the man sitting next to you would die if he knew you wanted to visit his place).

sylus hands you the present box, causing your eyes to widen as you finally process its existence. "merry christmas, sweetie."

instead of accepting it, you jump out of your seat and dash to your room, though not without yelling a "wait here!" your heart beats rapidly as you open your closet door, your eyes landing on a small box wrapped in glossy black paper. yes, you were planning on spending christmas alone. yes, you were planning on giving this to sylus as nonchalantly as possible AFTER christmas (as much as he infuriates you, you still wanted to gift him something. why? you're not sure). and yet, here you are, holding the gift to your chest as you sprint back to the kitchen. "here," you pant as you thrust your gift into his lap. "merry christmas, sylus."

now it's his turn to be surprised. peering at what you just put in his lap, sylus can't help but blush profusely. you gifted him something. you actually gifted him something. you went out of your way to buy something for him. you thought of him. sylus brings a hand to his mouth, his fingers gripping the sides of his face hard. oh, you're too much. it's taking him everything to not crash himself into you and hold you tightly with his arms, to press himself so deeply into you until there is no chance in heaven or hell you could be separated from him.

"sylus?" you snap him out of his thoughts. "you okay?"

he blinks. "ah." releasing his face from his grip, sylus looks at you with a composed smile. "i'm alright, sweetie. thank you for the gift," he says as he starts unwrapping.

"it's not much," you say shyly. "thank you for your gift too. i'll open it after you finish opening yours."

sylus nods as he opens the box. his lips part when he finds what lies inside. a pair of black gloves, thermal lined with genuine fleece and adorned with adjustable straps. but most importantly, embroidery by your hands. he could recognize your handiwork anywhere thanks to your previous adventure in the grasslands. the white dove delicately sewn into the wrist of the right glove and the initials of his name intricately engraved into the wrist of the left. the man can't help but smile for the umpteenth time tonight. you really were something else.

"i noticed you wear fingerless gloves whenever you ride your motorcycle," you start as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. "as stylish as they are, mr. sylus," you tease. "i think it's better to have gloves that keep you warm during late-night joyrides, especially now since it's winter." finding the courage to grin at him, you conclude your explanation with, "merry christmas, sylus."

sylus swears he sees an angel sitting next to him. how could you not be an angel? with the way you're smiling at him right now? and the amount of thought you put into this gift? (he's trying not to obsess over the fact that you observe him whenever he rides his motorcycle.) the head of onychinus has never believed in angels. but now, he does. thanks to you.

"thank you, sweetie," he tries to say as calmly as possible. "i will cherish them." when he attempts to put the gloves on, you stop him.

"wait, you don't need to put them on yet! you're going to get hot."

"it's fine," sylus assures as he secures the straps. "i want to."

"okay," you flush, happy that he likes the gift. "let me open yours now."

you wonder why his box is so heavy as your fingers rip off the tape. a gasp escapes your mouth as the wrapping paper falls to the ground. "sylus," you tremble. "i can't accept this."

a record player. a sleek, gorgeous record player with an obsidian platter, supported by a mahogany base and a crystal case. you stroke the tonearm, dragging your index finger all the way to the headshell and relishing in the cool feeling the metal provides. "sylus…" you trail off.

"there's more, sweetie." he murmurs. out of thin air, sylus materializes several vinyls with his evol. your eyes widen, recognizing the images that lie at the center of each disc.

"oh my god, sylus!" your favorite band, he got you vinyl records of each album from your favorite band. they've never even had vinyl records before. holy fucking shit. "sylus!" you chant excitedly, leaping into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. "sylus! you shouldn't have! oh my god!"

you jump up and down eagerly, leaving the man stunned in his chair. his arms are outstretched, unsure what to do for the first time ever. you freeze, realizing the position you are in. "oh uh," you quickly retract from him, a red hue forming on your cheeks. "sorry about that." you go to sit back down in your chair, but sylus doesn't let you. he pulls you back to him with an arm around your waist and a hand at the back of your head. standing at full height, the head of onychinus hugs you tightly, so tightly it's as if he never wants to let you go. you hesitate before returning the hug, questioning the man's motives. but he doesn't say or do anything. just stands embracing you. realizing he bears no ill will, you pat his back playfully. "you know i'm sick, right?"

his grip doesn't loosen. "yes, i know."

"you're going to get sick, sylus," you tease, trying to pull away. as much as you appreciate his warmth, the last thing you want is for him to get sick. just the thought of it strikes fear in your heart. you're not sure why. "come on, let go."

sylus sighs before untangling his arms and sitting back down. he'll give in for now. besides, he wouldn't trade that elated look on your face when he revealed the records for anything in the world. he supposes he can enjoy such a view some more.

you giggle excitedly as you examine the vinyl records. "oh, should i play this one first? oh, what about this one? no way! you got this one too?!"

as always, you don't catch the woozy, lovesick smile that appears on sylus' face as he folds his arms and leans back to admire you. if this is what christmas with you is going to look like in the future, sylus desperately hopes you'll spend every christmas with him from now on. but, just to be sure, because nothing is guaranteed in the future, he follows your example and says for the second time of the night, "merry christmas, sweetie."

#you have no idea how long it took me to figure out what sylus would gift mc #i was terribly disappointed to not find him under the christmas tree #oh well #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fic #lads fluff #sylus fluff

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jellybonbons · 5 months ago

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Sweet Tooth or Sweet Cravings?

Kenji Sato x fem!reader

Summary: When a chocolate company sent Ken a PR package, he ate the chocolates without thoroughly inspecting them, and, well...things took an unexpected turn.

CW: 18+ (mdni), established relationship, aphrodisiac chocolates, implied panty sniffing, masturbation, fingering, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names.

Words: 1.5k

AN: this is just an excuse for me to write him like he's in heat :3

Today 4:12 PM

Ken <3: can you come home? its an emergency

The moment you saw his text, your heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, you clocked out early and made a beeline for the parking lot. You had never driven so fast in your life, and you were sure you almost broke the gas pedal from how hard your heels were pressing on it.

The city streets blurred past you, your mind racing with worry and a thousand scenarios of what could have gone wrong. You barely noticed the honking horns or the changing traffic lights, and your focus was solely on getting to Ken as quickly as possible.

As you reached Ken's home, you punched in the code with shaking fingers, and the door swung open almost instantly. You dropped your bag near the entrance, not caring where it landed, and stumbled inside, quickly sliding off your heels as you hurried to find him.

Rounding the corner into the living room, you saw Ken from behind, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each laboured breath. "Ken, are you ok–" The sight caught you off guard. There he was, panting heavily, glistening with sweat, eyes half-closed as he stroked his cock. It stood proudly and flushed in a deep red colour. His other hand clutched your panty from this morning.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you have to–fuck,” the moment he saw you, his body tensed, and with a guttural moan, he finally came, his cum coating his hand and abdomen.

As he sprawled against the couch, you took a moment to look around the living room. Your eyes landed on a box of half-eaten chocolates on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the box and examined it closely. The label read "Aphrodisiac Chocolates" in a small, elegant script. Realisation dawned on you, and you couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. Ken had unknowingly consumed aphrodisiacs, and now the situation made a lot more sense.

You sat down next to him on the couch, eyes wide with concern. "Ken, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I—I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect this... I think I overdid it with those chocolates."

"Those weren’t just chocolates, were they?"

"No, they were aphrodisiac chocolates. I didn’t check the label...clearly, I should have," he growled, frustration evident in his voice as he discarded your panty from his hand.

"Yeah, I can see that. It’s obvious they did more than just satisfy a sweet tooth," you smirked, leaning closer, your breath teasing against his ear.

"You’re not helping, you know." His eyes narrowed at you, a mix of frustration and desire burning within them.

Before you could respond, Ken, overwhelmed by the effects and your teasing, pulled you down onto him. He ground his hard-on between your thighs, his breath coming out in ragged bursts as he tried to find some relief.

"Ken, what—" You gasped, your voice filled with surprise.

"I need you. Right now. Please, help me." His voice was husky and urgent, his need unmistakable.

–

You lost track of time, the sky outside turning dark as the house became dimly lit. Your clothes were strewn everywhere, and he had taken you on every possible surface – from the coffee table to the expansive living room window overlooking the ocean, and now on his bed.

He didn't hesitate for a moment, his desire insatiable. Somehow, he even managed to feed you the aphrodisiac chocolates during heated kisses, deepening the intensity of your connection with each touch and taste that seemed impossible to quench.

"Baby," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. He had your hands pinned against the headboard, his grip firm and unyielding. His chest pressed against your back, warm and solid, as his fingers delved into your wet cunt, moving with a relentless rhythm that left you breathless.

The squelching sound filled the room, adding to the erotic symphony that drove him even harder. Your back arched with every expert stroke, each thrust of his fingers hitting the perfect spot over and over, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Ken, wait!” you gasped, feeling a strange pressure building within you. “I feel like I’m gonna pee.”

He didn’t falter for a second, his fingers maintaining their relentless rhythm. “Just let go, princess,” he murmured, his voice a mix of encouragement and command. “The sheets are already dirty anyway.”

His words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers broke down your resistance. With a cry of both pleasure and relief, you let go, your body trembling as you squirted, the sensation overwhelming. Ken’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he continued to work you through it, his fingers drenched in your release.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, his voice low and approving. “Just like that.”

As Ken finally released your hands, you let them slide down, resting them beside you—the dampness of the wet sheets clinging uncomfortably to your skin, causing you to grimace. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the rapid pace of your breathing, and allowed yourself a moment to regain composure.

Ken, still insatiable and eager, looked at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “It’s my turn now,” he said, his voice rough with need. You, sore and spent, protested weakly, “Baby, I’m so beat... I don’t know if I can handle much more.”

He silenced your concerns with a reassuring smile and a quick, decisive movement. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he said, his tone filled with confidence. With a firm grip, he lifted you effortlessly and positioned you on his lap, your legs spread and held against your chest. He manoeuvred you into a perfect angle and guided his hard cock to your still-sensitive cunt.

“Fuck, Ken, too deep!” you cried out, your voice trembling as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Saliva dribbled from your lips, a testament to the intense pleasure and exhaustion.

Ken's voice was a low, teasing murmur against your ear. “But you love it when I go deep like this,” he cooed, his tone dripping with mockery. He squeezed you closer, his grip firm and possessive, restricting your movements and trapping you in place.

The way he moved, controlling every motion and maximising your pleasure, made you feel like nothing more than his personal plaything, his fleshlight. Each powerful thrust sent your breasts bouncing. Your head leaned back against him, the sensation overwhelming as his movements were both demanding and dominant, ensuring you felt every inch of him, leaving you breathless and helpless under his command.

Finally, with a guttural groan that reverberated through the room, Ken’s body tensed, and a shudder ran through him as he reached his peak. His hot cum spilling deeply inside you, a wave of warmth that filled you completely.

He collapsed against you, his breath coming in deep, shuddering gasps as he buried his face in your hair, staying fully inside you. As he caught his breath, he managed to joke through his ragged breaths, “I think I’ll have to give that chocolate company a review —'5 stars for effectiveness!'”

You weakly slapped his arms, a small, affectionate smile tugging at your lips despite the fatigue. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, barely able to muster the energy to respond.

He then gently shifted his position, moving his hand to cup your chin and guide your face towards his. His eyes, soft and tender, met yours as he leaned in to press a gentle, affectionate kiss to your lips.

Pulling back slightly, he whispered with a teasing smile, “But you love me.”

“Unfortunately.” You responded with a playful sigh.

–

You were scrolling through your phone during lunch, your thoughts drifting as you ate, when a familiar company caught your eye. You paused, intrigued by a screenshot of a review with the username Notkensato07. The review was under a popular chocolate company, and as you read the lines, you couldn’t help but groan.

Notkensato07: ★★★★★

"Absolutely incredible! I tried the aphrodisiac chocolates and they were so effective, my girlfriend’s still recovering. If you want a taste of heaven—and maybe a little bit of chaos—this is your go-to. 5 stars, but if I could give it more, I would!

⤷ 241 replies

g0urmetguru: More than 5, huh? That’s some serious praise. I’m curious, how long did the effects last? Asking for a friend 😉

sillysocks76: IS THIS KEN SATO?

ChefRemyDaRat: Wow, talk about a rave review! If it’s that good, I’m buying a box for sure 🔥

chocolateroses: LMAOOO! I hope your girlfriend’s recovery is going well, man!

SweetToothSteve: Wow, this sounds wild! I’ve heard aphrodisiac chocolates are hit-or-miss, but this sounds like a game-changer. Guess I’ll be adding these to my shopping list!

jellybonbons: Nah, that’s cap.

⤷ chikinuggie: You’re just salty because you got no hoes.

⤷jellybonbons: (comment removed for harassment)

⤷jellybonbons: Wtf? why is my comment removed n not chikin for bullying?!

⤷ chikinuggie: The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

⤷ SweetToothSteve: Alright, kids, play nice! 😂

–

Shocked by the boldness of his review, you yelled out his name in disbelief, “SATO!”

Ken, who had been skipping around the living room as part of his exercise routine, froze mid-skip. The sudden outburst made him lose his rhythm, causing him to trip over his own feet.

“Oh shit!”

Dividers by: @/chilumitos

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚#ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato smut #kenji sato smut #ken sato fanfic #kenji sato fanfic #ultraman rising fanfic #ultraman rising smut #ultraman rising x reader

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jungwnies · 4 days ago

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F1 GRID | new years with your f1 boyfriend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : it's new years with your f1 boyfriend, what're your plans?

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : kissing & skinship ୨ৎ : word count : 3992

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : happy new years to everyone i hope you all love this !! 🎉

ʚ・max verstappen

the crisp winter air kissed your cheeks as you and max walked hand in hand toward the crowded park. the distant crackle of fireworks already hinted at the dazzling display to come. you tightened your scarf around your neck, your gloved fingers clasping a steaming cup of hot chocolate. max carried his own, his free hand tucked snugly in the pocket of his coat.

“are you sure this is worth braving the cold for?” max asked, though the faint smile playing on his lips betrayed his teasing.

you nudged him gently with your shoulder. “oh, come on, max. fireworks, hot chocolate, and you? sounds like the perfect way to start a new year.”

his soft chuckle sent a flutter through your chest. he squeezed your hand as you reached the open field. people had already gathered, their breath visible in the frosty air as they chatted and waited for the midnight display.

you found a quiet spot away from the main crowd, settling on a blanket you’d brought. the city skyline sparkled in the background, the atmosphere humming with anticipation. you handed max a small tin box you'd been hiding in your bag.

“what’s this?” he asked, raising a curious brow as he turned it over in his hands.

“a time capsule,” you said, grinning at his surprised expression. “i thought we could write letters to our future selves, add a few photos and little memories from this year, and open it together next new year’s eve.”

he gave you a look, a mix of incredulity and affection. “that’s… very cheesy.”

“hey!” you protested, though his smirk softened your mock indignation.

“but,” he continued, his blue eyes twinkling under the soft glow of streetlights, “i kind of love it.”

you beamed, pulling out pens and papers. the two of you sat close, jotting down thoughts and hopes for the coming year. you shared quiet laughter over your favorite moments from the past season, max even adding a bottle cap from a celebratory post-race drink to the capsule.

when the fireworks began, painting the night sky in vibrant bursts of color, max wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him.

“this is nice,” he murmured, his voice almost lost in the distant pops and crackles.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “happy new year, max.”

“happy new year, love,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

as the final fireworks faded, leaving trails of smoke against the dark canvas of the sky, you sealed the time capsule, knowing that this moment, like everything else you’d placed inside, would be a memory to cherish.

and though he might not admit it outright, the soft smile lingering on max’s face told you he wouldn’t have wanted to celebrate the new year any other way.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the energy in times square was electric, a swirling mix of excitement, cold winter air, and the endless buzz of millions of people. the iconic new york city lights shone even brighter than usual, reflecting off the surrounding buildings. it was your first time here, and you couldn’t believe you were standing in the middle of it all, hand-in-hand with lewis hamilton.

“i still can’t believe you flew me out here,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the scarf wrapped around your neck.

lewis turned to you, his warm brown eyes crinkling with a smile. “you’ve been talking about wanting to see the ball drop for ages. how could i not?”

your cheeks warmed—not just from the cold, but from the way his gaze lingered on you, filled with a tenderness that made your heart race.

the crowd around you erupted in cheers as the countdown clock approached its final minutes. despite the chaos, lewis made sure to keep you close, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. you leaned into him, his warmth seeping through his coat as the two of you watched the dazzling lights of times square.

“this is unreal,” you whispered, gazing up at the massive ball perched atop the pole. “thank you, lewis.”

he turned you slightly, his face now inches from yours. “you don’t have to thank me, love. i just want to see you happy.”

your breath hitched, and before you could respond, the crowd roared louder. the final minute of the year had begun.

“sixty seconds,” lewis said with a grin, glancing at the clock and then back at you. “ready to start the new year together?”

“always,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the deafening countdown.

the seconds seemed to both drag and race by as the crowd chanted in unison. “ten… nine… eight…”

lewis shifted, standing in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. the world around you felt like it slowed down as his thumb brushed your cheek.

“three… two… one… happy new year!”

as the ball dropped and confetti rained down in a dazzling cascade of colors, lewis leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that made everything else fade away. the cold disappeared, the noise blurred, and all you could feel was the warmth of his lips and the steady, grounding presence of his arms around you.

when you finally pulled back, the sparkle in his eyes rivaled the confetti falling around you. he rested his forehead against yours, his voice soft and full of emotion. “i wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else. not tonight, not ever.”

your heart swelled, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, either.”

he laughed softly, brushing a stray piece of confetti from your hair. “here’s to us, love. to the new year, and everything it’ll bring.”

with the city celebrating around you, you held onto him tightly, knowing that as long as you had lewis by your side, this year—and every year to come—would be unforgettable.

ʚ・george russell

the soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the living room as you curled up on the couch, your legs draped over george’s lap. a bowl of popcorn sat precariously between you, and an old new year’s eve movie played on the tv. outside, the winter wind howled faintly, but inside, it was warm and cozy—the perfect way to ring in the new year.

george stretched his arm behind you, looking down at your mismatched fuzzy socks with a playful smirk. “i’ve been meaning to ask—do you intentionally pick socks that clash, or is this some kind of fashion statement i’m not aware of?”

you threw a piece of popcorn at him, laughing as it bounced off his forehead. “they’re cozy! and besides, you’re one to talk. didn’t i catch you wearing socks with holes in them last week?”

he gasped, feigning offense. “excuse me, those were my lucky socks. there’s a difference.”

“lucky how? do they help you win races or just charm your way out of arguments?”

george grinned, leaning closer with a twinkle in his eye. “a bit of both, actually.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. as the minutes ticked closer to midnight, george shifted, pulling you closer until your head rested on his shoulder. his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, the once-playful energy softening into something more intimate.

“alright,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “what’s your new year’s resolution? and don’t say something boring like ‘drink more water.’”

you tilted your head to look at him, a teasing smile on your face. “fine. my resolution is to make sure you wear socks without holes in public.”

he groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “that’s not a resolution—that’s bullying.”

“someone’s got to keep you in check,” you quipped.

he chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “alright, smartypants, my turn. my resolution is…” he paused for effect, his eyes narrowing mischievously. “to beat you at mario kart at least once this year.”

you gasped, sitting up. “you’ll never win, and you know it. i’m untouchable on rainbow road.”

“don’t get cocky, love. i’ve been practicing.”

the playful banter dissolved into laughter, and before you knew it, the countdown began on the tv. george grabbed the remote, turning the volume up slightly as the two of you leaned forward, watching the seconds tick away.

“ten… nine… eight…”

george turned to you, his expression softening as the excitement built.

“five… four…”

his hand cupped your cheek, and you felt your heart flutter at the way his blue eyes sparkled under the warm light.

“three… two…”

and just as the clock struck midnight, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was somehow both tender and exhilarating. his hand slid to the back of your neck, keeping you close as the faint sound of cheers and fireworks filled the room.

when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a crooked smile on his lips. “happy new year, love. here’s to more mario kart losses and mismatched socks.”

you laughed, your arms wrapping around his neck. “and here’s to you admitting defeat gracefully—for once.”

“never,” he teased, pulling you in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment eclipsing everything else.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was alive with the warm, comforting smells of garlic, tomatoes, and freshly baked bread. you stood at the counter, carefully chopping vegetables while carlos manned the stove, his sleeves rolled up and his brow furrowed in concentration. the soft hum of music played in the background, occasionally drowned out by the laughter and chatter of his family from the living room.

“you’re going to burn that if you keep stirring it like that,” you teased, glancing over at carlos, who was fiercely focused on the pot of sauce in front of him.

“¡por favor! i know what i’m doing,” he retorted, though the way he immediately lowered the heat betrayed his confidence.

you couldn’t help but laugh, wiping your hands on a towel before stepping over to him. “move over, chef sainz. let me save your sauce before it turns into soup.”

carlos shot you a playful glare but stepped aside, crossing his arms as he watched you with a mock pout. “this was supposed to be my moment of glory.”

“you can have your moment when you’re not about to ruin dinner for your family,” you said, giving him a sly grin.

he leaned against the counter, his eyes following your every move. “you’re lucky you’re cute when you boss me around.”

“and you’re lucky i’m here to stop you from poisoning your parents,” you quipped, shooting him a wink.

by the time dinner was ready, the two of you had settled into a seamless rhythm, laughing and bickering as you plated the food together. when you brought everything to the table, his family erupted into applause, making carlos puff out his chest dramatically.

“see? they love it,” he said, nudging you with his elbow as you sat beside him.

“they love us,” you corrected. “big difference.”

carlos’s father raised his glass, giving you both an approving nod. “to carlos and y/n—the dream team of the kitchen. ¡feliz año nuevo!”

after the lively meal and several rounds of stories, games, and champagne toasts, the countdown to midnight began. everyone gathered in the living room, and carlos tugged you closer to his side, his arm draped comfortably around your waist.

as the clock ticked down, carlos leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team.”

“only when you let me take charge,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful smirk.

“or maybe it’s because i keep you on your toes,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“three… two…”

the room exploded into cheers, hugs, and clinking glasses, but carlos only had eyes for you.

“happy new year, cariño,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of warmth as he leaned in to kiss you.

the world seemed to melt away as his lips met yours, the kiss tender yet filled with the kind of unspoken promise that made your heart race. when you pulled back, his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“this year,” he said with a soft smile, “i just want more moments like this—with you.”

your cheeks warmed as you grinned back at him. “good thing we’ve got a whole year to make that happen.”

and with his family cheering and laughter ringing around you, you knew it was the perfect start to a year you’d always remember.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the cool mediterranean breeze swept across the balcony, carrying the faint sounds of celebration from the harbor below. monaco was alive—its lights sparkling like stars on earth, music drifting up from the yachts, and the occasional burst of fireworks lighting up the night sky.

you leaned against the railing, sipping champagne and admiring the view. “monaco really knows how to do new year’s, huh?”

charles stood beside you, swirling his glass of champagne with an effortless charm. “it’s all for you, of course,” he teased, the corners of his lips tugging into a playful smirk.

“oh, really?” you laughed, raising a brow. “they planned all this just because i’m here?”

“absolutely. i told them you were coming, and voilà.” he gestured dramatically toward the city below, then broke into a grin. “they went all out this year.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “sure they did, leclerc.”

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re completely at ease with someone. charles set his glass down on the table behind him, turning to lean his hip against the railing. his gaze lingered on you, soft and unguarded.

“you know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “this feels… different.”

you glanced at him, tilting your head. “different how?”

he shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “i’ve spent so many new year’s eves here—on the yachts, at loud parties, with people everywhere. but none of them ever felt like this.”

you smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “is this the part where you tell me i’m better company than pierre?”

charles groaned, rolling his eyes. “please don’t make me compare. if he hears about this, i’ll never live it down.”

“oh, come on,” you teased. “you can admit it—i’m way more fun than pierre.”

charles tried to keep a straight face but eventually broke into a laugh. “alright, fine. you’re more fun. but don’t tell him i said that. he’ll sulk for weeks.”

you laughed, and he shook his head, muttering something in french under his breath about how dramatic pierre could be. but his smile quickly softened as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “but seriously… you are better company. this—” he gestured between you two, “—this makes it all feel special. because you’re here with me.”

your playful smile faltered, replaced by something warmer. “charles…”

the countdown started below, a chorus of voices rising from the streets. “ten… nine…”

charles’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. “i mean it,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “you make everything better—except maybe your taste in music. that’s still questionable.”

you gasped, swatting his arm. “excuse me? my playlists are amazing!”

“sure they are,” he teased, his grin widening. “but maybe leave the djing to me next time.”

“five… four…”

“oh, you’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling out of you.

“three… two…”

“and yet, you love me,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing all at once.

“unfortunately,” you quipped, but your heart betrayed you with the way it fluttered as he leaned in.

“happy new year,” he whispered, right before his lips met yours.

the kiss was sweet and lingering, the distant fireworks and cheers fading into the background. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin unmistakably smug.

“bonne année, mon amour,” he said, his voice dripping with charm. “and don’t worry—there’s still hope for your playlists in the new year.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing as you swatted at him again. “keep talking like that, and you’re not getting any more kisses.”

he gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “cruel! and here i was planning to share my champagne with you.”

“you already gave me my own glass,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“well, fine then,” he said with a mock pout, pulling you close again. “but i’m keeping all the kisses for myself this year.”

and as the next round of fireworks lit up the monaco sky, you couldn’t help but laugh and pull him in for another kiss, knowing you’d never get tired of his humor—or his love.

ʚ・lando norris

the living room was a cozy mess—pillows scattered on the couch, empty snack bowls on the coffee table, and a giant blanket fort you’d both built earlier in the evening. it had been the perfect new year’s eve: takeout, laughter, and lounging. that is, until lando got distracted by the game.

“lando, it’s eleven fifty-eight,” you said, standing by the tv with your hands on your hips, trying to look stern but failing miserably.

“two more minutes!” he replied, his voice laced with concentration as his fingers flew over the controller. his headset was perched haphazardly around his neck, and his tongue stuck out slightly in that signature "lando is focused" way.

“two more minutes, and you’ll miss the new year!” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

he glanced at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “relax, love. i’ve got time. this is the last round.”

you crossed your arms, raising a brow. “that’s what you said the last three rounds.”

“yeah, but this time i mean it!” he insisted, dodging imaginary bullets with his whole body as he mashed the buttons.

the clock on your phone read 11:59, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. “you are not starting the new year yelling at a bunch of strangers in a game lobby.”

“i’m not yelling!” lando protested, right as he shouted, “no! don’t steal my loot, you donkey!” into the microphone.

grabbing a throw pillow, you lobbed it at him, hitting him square in the face. he yelped and dropped the controller.

“hey!” he exclaimed, laughing as he dramatically fell back onto the couch. “that was an attack on a defenseless man!”

“you’ve got sixty seconds to get over here,” you warned, pointing to the spot next to you on the couch. “or i’m starting 2025 single.”

“such violent tendencies,” he teased, tossing the pillow back at you as he scrambled to his feet.

“thirty seconds, babe!”

with a dramatic sigh, lando yanked off his headset and dropped onto the couch beside you. “fine, fine. i’m here. happy?”

“ecstatic,” you deadpanned, grabbing the remote and switching the tv back to the countdown.

“ten… nine…”

lando grinned, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “see? plenty of time to spare. you stress too much, love.”

you gave him a look. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“four… three…”

he leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “and you’re lucky i’m absolutely obsessed with you.”

the words caught you off guard, and your heart flipped as he closed the distance just as the countdown hit zero.

“happy new year,” he murmured against your lips, his kiss soft but filled with that playful energy you loved so much about him.

when he pulled back, his grin was smug. “bet you’re glad i finished my game now, yeah?”

“don’t push your luck, norris,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

he laughed, pulling you closer into his side. “alright, alright. but admit it—it’s a pretty great start to the year, isn’t it?”

you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand finding his. “yeah, it is. but next year? no gaming past eleven.”

“we’ll see,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “but if i’m gaming, i promise you’ll still get your kiss—pillow attacks or not.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

“so… how many times are you going to rewind that scene?” you asked, glancing up at oscar, who was focused on the screen.

he gave you an exaggerated pout. “it’s a crucial moment in the movie!” he said, pressing the rewind button again. “you don’t get it. this is the best part.”

you snorted, resting your head against his chest. “you’ve already watched it three times in the past ten minutes.”

oscar smiled sheepishly, letting out a small laugh. “what can i say? it’s a masterpiece.”

you rolled your eyes, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “you’re such a dork. and you’re going to miss midnight if you keep watching this masterpiece.”

oscar glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at the screen. “you know what? you’re right.” he paused the movie, throwing the remote on the couch before adjusting the blanket around you both. “we should probably focus on the important stuff.”

“like… me?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

he shot you a grin. “obviously.”

you snorted, then turned your attention to the window. outside, the city lights twinkled, and you could hear the distant sound of fireworks and people celebrating. the air felt warm despite the cool night, the kind of warmth that wrapped around you like a hug.

“three minutes,” you said, glancing at your phone. “if you’re gonna kiss me at midnight, you better start thinking of something romantic, piastri.”

oscar raised an eyebrow at you. “oh, don’t worry, i’ve got it all planned out. it’ll be so romantic, you’ll be swooning.”

“uh-huh. sure. i’m waiting.”

he grinned, leaning back into the couch and pulling you closer into his side. “honestly, though, i’m just happy to be here. no fireworks, no fancy parties. just you, me, and… this movie that i’ll probably rewatch a hundred more times.”

you chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder. “you really are the definition of a homebody.”

“i’m not complaining,” he said, squeezing you gently. “this is the best way to spend new year’s. plus, you’re here with me. that’s the important part.”

“flatterer,” you said, but your heart was melting just a little.

the countdown to midnight started in the background—someone’s phone ringing out in the distance, fireworks popping in the air. the quiet excitement was a nice contrast to the usual loud, chaotic celebrations, and you couldn’t help but feel content.

“ten… nine…”

oscar looked down at you, his expression soft. “you know, i’m really glad we’re doing this,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “like, this is honestly the best way to start the year.”

you grinned up at him. “well, i’m glad you’re here with me. this is way better than any party.”

“two… one…”

oscar leaned in closer, his lips brushing your forehead as the seconds ticked down. “happy new year, love,” he murmured, just before the fireworks went off outside, signaling the start of another year.

you turned your face up to meet his, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours—soft and sweet, with the warmth of his kiss making everything feel just right. you kissed him back, smiling into the moment, not caring about anything else in the world.

when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, grinning like you’d just won a prize. “okay, that was a solid kiss. i’m impressed.”

oscar laughed, his thumb gently tracing your hand. “told you i could be romantic when i try.”

and as the night drifted on, the two of you stayed in that cozy little world of yours—no big parties, no grand fireworks—just the comfort of each other’s presence, the perfect way to welcome in the new year.

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itsjustrosee · 7 months ago

Text

Alright because of all the support on my last post with Stiles, I figured I should write another 😚👍

Worried Sick Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Context: established relationship, Stiles comes to visit you when you don't show up to school

Warnings: none, just fluff

Wordcount: 1.1k

You had been in your room curled up in bed, tangled in blankets and stuffed animals all while you were supposed to be at school.

You had just gotten your period and your cramps left you nothing short of bedridden and on the verge of throwing up all day. You were experiencing womanhood at its absolute finest, to say the least.

Suddenly, the door to your room swung open, and a very confused and distressed Stiles entered your room. His expression softened once he saw you weren't dead or bleeding out, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over him.

"Not using the window to get in anymore?" You asked jokingly, rolling to your side to face Stiles who had now set down his bag and kneeled at the side of your bed. Being Scott's twin, you and Stiles needed to keep your relationship a secret. That's why when it came to hanging out, Stiles would always come in through your window rather than your front door so the both of you wouldn't get caught.

"Well, you gave me a key to your house for a reason right? Also going in through the window would've taken me too long," Stiles explains, his expression still slightly filled with worry as he placed one of his hands on your bed while the other tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"What were you in such a rush for?" You ask with a chuckle in reaction to Stiles's seriousness, snaking your hand out of your covers and placing it on top of his.

"Well you didn't show up to school and I was worried," He explains, his expression soft and genuine. "I thought something bad might've happened," He says quietly and slowly.

For any other boyfriend, his girlfriend not showing up to school shouldn't cause them this much stress, but considering all the supernatural shit Stiles has somehow managed to get involved in, he couldn't help but worry himself to death.

"I'm okay Stiles, really I am," You say, reassuring him, "Just on my period that's all," You explain, trying to manage a smile but your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out, so it probably came out as more slightly disturbing than comforting.

"Ok good, I thought it could've had something to do with that. Which is why-" Stiles says, relieved, as he gets up and grabs his bag before sitting down next to you on the bed. "I have come prepared," He continues with a goofy smirk plastered on that stupidly cute face of his.

You sit up lazily as Stiles begins to show you what he bought. He whips out a plastic bag from inside of his backpack with items ranging from Tylonal, Advil, and Mydol, (which you immediately snatched and swallowed), all the way to chocolates and a heated stuffed animal.

"I got confused when I saw all the... feminine products, so- um-" He explains while taking out yet another plastic shopping bag from his backpack to reveal at least ten different boxes of tampons and pads.

You pause and stare at the ginormous haul of items that Stiles has bought you and you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

You appreciated Stiles and his caring towards you more than anything, especially in moments like these. He always knew the right things to do and the right things to say, and you loved him for it.

Stiles, however, didn't take your silence in the right way. "I'm sorry- it's stupid I know, I bought way too much. I bet I still have the receipt somewhere, maybe I can still return it-" He asked, sadness and disappointment slowly creeping into his voice.

"No!" You reply quickly. "Don't return it, and none of this is stupid," You confirm before sighing for a moment. "Stiles, this is literally like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," You explain, turning to look at him while you say it, a smile slowly forming on your face as you do so.

"Really?" Stiles questions, his embarrassed expression being replaced by one of relief and pride.

"Really," You say while scooting over in your bed and patting the space next to you, beckoning him to join you.

Stiles lays down next to you, and you gladly roll over and climb on top of him, resting your head by the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him. The heat radiated off of his body as you listened to his heartbeat and the slow movements of his chest going up and down.

Stiles brought the covers over you and kissed your head before speaking once more, "You don't want to use the stuffed animal I gave you?" He asks with a chuckle as he wraps his arms around you, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your back.

"Nope, I think you'll do just fine," You say as you lift your head to look up at him.

Stiles takes this moment to lean down and kiss you gently. He kissed and held you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. As if with one wrong move you'd shatter into a million pieces, so he treated you with such care, holding you softly and closely to make sure you didn't.

Though the kiss only lasted a few moments, it made you forget all about the pain you felt in your abdomen and replaced it with butterflies. He definitely had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable whenever you were around him.

Once he pulled away, he looked at you with hearts in his eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know that right baby?" He said, his voice so faint that it practically made your heart beat out of your chest. He removed one of his hands from your back and placed it on your cheek and you immediately melted into his touch.

You could only let out a satisfied hum in response, you were too lost in his features to bother replying coherently.

Stiles let out a low chuckle as he kissed your forehead, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, stroking your hair as he did so.

"Get some sleep okay?" He said while wrapping his arm just a bit tighter around you, "I'll be right here if you need anything," He said softly.

"I know," You say, your words muffled slightly as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, "You're not goin' anywhere," You say with a smile as you place a quick kiss on his neck.

"Didn't plan on it," Stiles mumbles, about to fall asleep even before you do. But as your meds kick in, you can't help but slowly drift off to sleep as well.

Okay, I'm having WAYYYYYY too much fun writing these I'm sorry 😭

I finished majority of my finals so I'm going to be much more active again so keep sending in requests! I'm continuing to work on them

Also, I cannot thank you guys enough for all of the compliments and praise I've received on my last post with Stiles, it was literally so sweet of you guys. My inbox was literally filled with people praising my writing and y'all have no idea how happy that made me, like literally my heart almost burst.

#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf x reader #x reader #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles fluff

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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

Note

hii i just read ur eddie x young reader. And i LOVE ITTTT

Can u please do something similar but with young neighbor reader? Where the reader moves in an apartment beside eddie . They meet each one day and they hit it off? (nsfw )

(Ignore this if u don’t like the idea or u can change it)

Knockin' On Heaven's Door

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: you're what people call a ray of sunshine, probably the most likeable person in the planet. so why is this hot idiot next door so mean to you?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (you know this blog lives by its name), smut, sunshine!reader x grumpy! eddie (cause his ass just got dumped lol), enemies to lovers (one-sided), kinda mean!eddie, porn with little to no plot, power goes out so they get freaky in the dark, use of pet names, p. in v.(use protection guys pls!!! don't be like this dumbasses fucking raw in the dark), oral (m. receiving), creampie, no venom :(

word count: 4,069 words (it's almost midnight again, me thinks I've forever messed up my sleep schedule cause ain't no way inspo only grows as per my eyebags lol)

side note: got my first request on tumblr!! (insert scarlett johanson dancing in marriage story gif). i love looove the neighbours trope so much (hey! if i had a hot older neighbour i would be doing the most to interact with them, bet); hope this lives up to ur expectations even if i tweaked a few things! also, this happens after eddie gets dumped by anne and moves out of the house lol so he's angry, moppy, horny and dry. what if i make this a series tho, would you like that? requests are open!

You're what people call a ray of sunshine. Ever since you managed to talk, all that comes out of you is happiness: the first sound to come out of your mouth was a laugh, your first word was smile, you have Love as your second name, you made friends on real time record, the profession you chose was that of a patissier and the first ink to grace your skin was a little heart tattoo.

Okay, maybe you've made it your whole personality to be likeable. So what? It's not your fault you light up every place you go, that people love you effortlesly and that life seems to smile your way.

It's the way the cookie crumbles, a fitting phrase for a pastry chef like you. Your friends often joked about it: you, a sweet person, baking little sweet goods to make other's lives sweeter.

And you loved it: your life, your job, your family, friends, cat and little apartment in San Francisco.

There was just one thing missing: because no matter how sweet you made other's peoples worlds by existing, no one was there to make it for you.

Alright, you had enough love and just loved love for the sake of it. Sometimes, a tidbit of romance through your screen or through the couple-d lives of your friends sufficed such desire, but its a lie to say you haven't dreamed of your own.

So when Johanna, the girl who lives across you, comes rushing with the newest gossip: "hot new neighbour moving next door!", there's something that tells you it might be time.

"You have to see him" she emphasizes, "a total eye candy"

That ignites the curiosity inside you, and after some weeks hearing through your walls grunts next door and a constant shuffle of things originally packed in boxes, you find yourself knocking on his door, tray of cookies in your hands.

Yes, you did bake them for him. After all, your chocolate chip cookies are a killer! People do lines to get them at your aunt's cafeteria, just to taste the warm soft dough, the chocolate melting on their mouths. You do this for every other new neighbour that comes around, it's just how you are! But the cookie choice is totally intentional though.

The door flinges open, and for the very first time in years, you find yourself at loss for words; speechless.

The stranger before you is a face you'll never forget. Handsome, of course, but there is something alluring in his beauty, one you can't exactly name, but comes along in a pair of thick lips, brown warm eyes and ink sprinkled across strong arms. Your heart hammers in your chest, and it takes all in you to not drop the tray in your chest right here and now.

"Hey!" you find your voice again. Clearing your throat, you proceed. "You're our new neighbour, right? I'm y/n, I live next door. Thought you'd like something sweet to eat after all that effort" you push the tray to the front, "I made this myself!"

He just stares back, blinking. You think he may be confused by your random act, but it's quite normal to do so with newbies. You love welcoming acts!

The awkward stiffness he radiates doesn't deter you away, though. "This are for you" you insist, "or just take one, if you don't want them all..."

"I hate chocolate" he finally says, with such a scowl on his face, you'd think you killed his entire family.

Oh! He hates chocolate? Who hates chocolate?!

You suddenly feel small and stupid. Without much else to say, you don't know how to proceed. You have your way with words, but no one has ever rejected you in the cold open before. It's left you baffled.

Then, a light bulb goes on in your head.

"Wait, I know you!" he quirks an eyebrow. "You're that reporter from TV, Eddie Brock" you gush, "I love helping others, but what you do is amazing... you're, like on other level, giving a voice to those who don't have one"

You admired him; he was someone who was brave and cared.

"Not anymore" and then the door slams in your face.

It takes you a while to process there, standing in the eerie silence of the empty hall, that Eddie Brock may be the very first person in the world who doesn't like you.

In the end, you'd given the batch of cookies to the homeless people living around your building. Even if it made you feel good, the pang in your chest didn't go away. You simply couldn't forget about the incident (because of pride and embarrasment in equal parts), plus, the fact that he lived next door and you couldn't go on about your day without hearing him pace around his apartment, made the task of forgetting about it difficult.

So in the following days you've avoided him, which has been pretty easy so far, since he barely leaves his apartment and you're busy with work and stuff.

It's friday night, and with the next week's groceries in hand, you take the elevator. The door's about to close when it opens again. You can't believe it: after successfuly evading him for five days, Eddie Brock is trapped with you inside the reduced space; you shouldn't been lazy and taken the stairs instead.

"'Night" he mutters, and you swear you've gone deaf because you barely hear so. You don't know what to do, so you just stand there, clutching your tote bag a little too hard. It could be an accident: he's too drunk out of his mind and doesn't know it's you.

It's not like he's been so nice, but after his asshole-ish move last time you saw each other, you don't expect basic courtesy towards you either.

You get a whiff of his scent, mixed with traces of whiskey. It's unfair how intoxicating it feels―how it's got you wanting more of what isn't yours.

God knows it's been long enough since you've wanted a man this bad.

It's not until the elevator dings again that you realize you've been holding your breath the entire time.

"Bye, pretty"

He casually exits out into your same floor never looking back, without realizing the effect his words have on you, hope slowly making its way through the creaks of your open heart.

Okay, maybe it's your fault for raising such high stakes based on two words and a silly little drunk interaction. Maybe you deserve it: because you've become a bit obsessed with the fact that Eddie hates you, but after yesterday, you've already traced a truce in your mind.

Even Johanna has told you to be cool about it. "It's time someone didn't like you" she joked, but you didn't find it funny. She insisted it's not important, but to you it is! How can he not like you? Maybe if he had a valid reason, you'd stop insisting, despite the let down. But he doesn't have one! And you've been nothing but kind! You think too much about it because it doesn't make any damn sense: you're loosing your mind and your friend just laughs.

The only reason you haven't talked to him again, is because work load has catched up to you.

But now you're here, out on the street, and the first person you see is him: on top of his bike, ready to go out.

"Nice!" you chirp. It may not be a top brand, but the black vehicle is as cool as its owner: the leather jacket, worn out jeans and beat up look is an insane combination that may or may not have you drooling.

"Huh?" he looks back at you, and you swear your cheeks reddened in embarrasment at his deadpan expresion.

"Nice bike, I mean" you nervously laugh, fiddling with a loose string of your sweater. "I love seeing them, but I don't think I'll ever ride one. I get scared too easily, you know?"

He puts his helmet on, "Alright"

Not even a thanks or an attempt of a small talk; what an idiot. Didn't he talk to you last time? Called you pretty? Why is he acting so curt right now?

"Hey, what is your pro-"

Your question doesn't get to be finished, because the engine roars and he's out of there, leaving you confused inside a cloud of smoke, the trail leaving with your last sparks of hope.

It's one of those nights where you just want to lay down and let sleep take control of your body. As soon as you get in your comfy pajamas and sink in the mattress, a noise erupts through the air. Startled, you raise on your feet, the slumber long gone.

Fuck. This hasn't been your week, has it?

The noise comes from outside, and you know who it is: the guy who lives in the corner, right next to the window; he who brings too many women home and plays his guitar a little too loud. It's late an he isn't getting the memo, clearly.

You swing your door open, ready to give him a piece of mind (and perhaps dump your accumulated stress from the week), until you realize you aren't the only one outside on the hall. It's Eddie, and he looks just as pissed as you do.

"Can't sleep?" he asks in a mocking tone, all while avoiding your eyes, rather focused on the common enemy's door.

"What do you think?" you reply, equaling his tone.

You both agree in silence, walking to his door. After some knocking, the guy opens his door: less thrilled when he sees Eddie and more complaint when he sees you.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll keep it down" and winks. The nerve of this guy. Even Eddie is frowning, surely annoyed at his lack of etiquette. "You can knock anytime, noise or not".

The door closes, but it's Brock who did it, not guitar guy. You're too tired to ask, and after picking what's left of your dignity around him, you decide it's best to walk back to your apartment.

"You know what's funny?" you stop your tracks, laughing, but it's devoid of amusement, "I lost my sleep".

He just stares back, and you're tired of the way conversations have to run by your side, for the very first time. You keep on walking, but as soon as your hand touches your doorknob, he speaks up:

"Goodnight" a small truce, you think. But you're not falling this time.

So you do the right think: walk inside without saying a word, and just like him, never looking back.

You wake up agitated in the middle of the night. It's raining: not just a normal rain but a huge storm. You look over at your alarm, noticing its characteristically red numbers are as pitch black as the sky above you. It's also thundering, and God, do you hate noises and thunder.

You jump again at another one cutting through the sky, and decide it's for the best to just stay awake until it's time to wake up. According to your phone, you have about three hours until morning rises. That's enough time to watch a movie or two. Even to pet your cat, which is laying next to your bed, clearly unbothered―unlike his owner.

But there's a problem: when you try to turn the switch, no lights go on. Your incredulous laugh ecos in the room.

Not only a storm, but also a fucking black out.

Scare slowly creeps up, and the shivers you feel are definitely not only because of the temperature drop.

So you grab your phone and head out, without clearly thinking and obviously in panic, because the first thing you do is knock on your neighbour's door.

Eddie's.

"Oh!" it takes a while for him to answer his door, but when he does, his phone's flashlight burns your eyes. "Sorry" he apologizes, and you don't know if it's for that or the fact he didn't answer; maybe for everything too, "didn't hear the knocking with all the thunder".

You say it's fine, that you're just checking to see if you're not the only one without light.

He flicks a nearby switch to no avail, "I'm afraid everyone in the whole building too"

Eddie probably notices your frightened state, the way you shiver like a lost puppy, and feels sorry.

"Wanna come inside?" he offers, hands inside his grey sweater's pockets.

For the very first time since you met him, he looks at you, but really looks at you: eyes roaming over your body, an all too familiar feeling painted across his brown orbs.

You realize a bit late what you're wearing: a teensy short and top, a set of pajamas that happens to be your most comfortable. Favorite too. Appropiate for this emergency meeting? Maybe not.

"You want me to?" you asked, confused. "I thought you hated me"

The only sound across the hall is the droplets of rain outside, some tapping in the window next to you and his apartment.

He looks rather embarrased, "I don't".

"Then you're just an idiot" you counter back, and he doesn't fight you about it.

"Fair" he says, "I can make some coffee?"

Maybe he's pretty convincing or you're a people pleaser, but as soon as he proposes, you're caving in just like that.

"Fine, but you better let me bring my cat"

Truth is, Muffin plays hard to get, but now he's resting in Eddie's lap―purring, as you two sip quietly on your coffee. Traitor.

"I used to have a cat" he says, cutting through the silence.

"Oh!" you leave your mug on his table, next to the candle; the only source of light in the room, "didn't think of you as a cat person".

"Tecnically, it belongs to my fiancée. Sorry, ex-fiancée" he makes a pause, "bet that cat doesn't miss me".

"I didn't know you had a, uh-" you're not sure how to proceed, so you trail off. Muffin jumps from Eddie's lap to the kitchen, lost in the dark.

"Yeah, I had a fiancée, cat, house, and job. Then I lost everything" he dry chuckles, humorlessly, "guess that's why I'm so bitter"

"I'm sorry" you say on the most sincere tone you can muster. Eddie wonders how can you be so kind and forgiving, especially after he's been nothing but an asshole to you.

"Doesn't mean I should've been a douchebag for no reason. You didn't deserve it" he apologizes, embarrased.

You stay in silence for some more time but then he says: "Not an excuse, but it's been real bad days"

The candlelight is so flickering, you don't know if he's seen your eyes, but by the way he gulps, you think he did.

"Maybe... I could offer a helping hand"

Why had you said that? Are you out of your mind? You barely know the guy, who, by the way, had been a jackass to you like, five minutes ago. But he's hot! And you love to help!

Jesus, talk about dignity and boundaries.

"Y-you would?" he stammers, but the way his hand travels to your lap reveals nothing but security.

He's not asking if you've gone insane or what exactly you mean by that: he's just asking if you would do it.

Would you help?

"Don't you know, Eddie?" your voice drops a sultry octave, "I love to help".

You lean close enough for him to smell the cinammon scent of your skin. Soon, he's leaning too, playing along even against his better judgment. It's too soon, but he's so drawn into you and can't resist it no more; ever since he met you.

His cock twitches in his pants, "help me, then"

It happens too fast, one second you're sipping on your coffee, looking like the most warm and softhearted person in the world and now you're on your knees, deep into his carpet, tugging at his belt with your teeth, a hunger he hasn't seen before in your eyes and filthy needy mouth.

Sex with Anne was sweet and normal. Vainilla. You smell like it too, but there's a difference: you have the appetite of a siren.

Using your hands, you remove the leather your teeth had beggin with, moving them to tug his ripped jeans down, pulling the zipper too in the process. You keep using your mouth, now to get rid of his boxers, where the outline is tight over his cock. Eddie finds himself so aroused to the point he feels hot, even if there's a storm outside and the candle barely provides warmth.

"You sure have a mouth" he mumbles in ecstasy, drunk in the sight of your glimmering lips, coated in saliva. He's dripping too: everywhere.

His cock bounces out, almost hitting you in the face.

"Look at you" you coo, "already dripping for me. What a pretty cock you've got, Mr. Brock"

Fuck, he's going to hell after this. But you can't corrupt what's already corrupted.

"Then you better show me what you mean"

You lick the tip, already leaking with precum. He tenses momentarily, and then stiffle a moan when you take his balls into your mouth, a similar sound coming from you. You suck lightly at them, running your tongue along the sensitive skin.

His hips buckle into your face, and you have to chuckle at the fact it's probably the first time he's ever has his dick sucked this good.

"Don't stop" he huffs.

You obey, tongue tracing along the underside of his cock until you're back at his tip. Eddie's still inside his drunk haze when he feels you taking all of him inside your mouth in one single movement.

"Fuck-!" he chokes out, the thunder outside shutting the vulgar sounds coming out of his plush lips. "Think you can take more?"

His large hand touches the back of your head and pushes it forward with force. His cock presses deeper into your throat, tip hitting the back of it. You feel yourself gag, but the wet spot that's starting to form in your panties says otherwise.

He twists your hair tightly, holding you in place as he fucks your throat with his cock. You feel tears, and Eddie thinks he's never had a prettier sight than you: glossy eyes, looking up to him as you take all his cock.

"I know you can, baby" he presses, "help me like you said you would, yeah?"

His fat cock is blocking your air supply, but the subtle motivation and praise in his eyes is enough to keep you going, thought your throat ends up bulging from the size of his cock, stretching out to accommodate his size.

You said you would help, right? And even if you always do it for the altruist reward, something about being used in such a vulgar and rough way has your chest and panties feeling warm.

Brock groans, body sweating and muscles tense. He yanks you up by your hair, chasing the orgasm like an animal, every movement feeling almost primal.

"Stay there" he feels it coming, "don't move".

You gurgle something, spit rushing down your chin and dripping onto your chest.

"It's almost over, sweetheart" his eyes roll back, head resting on the coach he'd barely used until now, where he's fucking you in the mouth, "I knew that filthy mouth of yours could take me"

You open your mouth wider, anticipating. Tension releases: and he's pounding out his orgasm in your throat, hips banging into your face. You swallow it all, even if you can't taste it since he was so deep in you. He pulls out, a string of spit connecting his tip with your lips.

"Thanks" his voice comes out rough, "you do know how to help those in need"

You wipe your chin with your hand, voice hoarse, "I suppose"

There's some silence afterwards, and now Eddie is cursing he doesn't know what else to say.

"Power is still out" he speaks, "we've got some hours left until the sun rises again"

"So what's your idea?" you giggle, "tell scary stories in the dark?"

You both laugh, but you stop and deadpan. "Please don't, I get scared very easily" and you pout those pretty lips of yours out. How can you be such an adorable but greedy girl? It's hard to believe you're the same person.

"Not that" he swallows thickly. Why is he doing this? Was a blowjob (a fantastic blowjob, by the way) by a young insatiable thing like you enough to make him go mad? "I want to help you too".

Before you protest, he's pulling you and sealing your lips with a hot kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, playing with it. He pulls out, biting your lower lip.

"Eddie" you whine, "b-bed, now"

He's supposed to be older and smarter, so why is his resolve melting away this quickly? Following your orders immediately, your back bouncing on the soft mattress of his bed. As soon as you lay, his lips trail kisses down your throat.

"God, you smell so good" you giggle, "bet this pussy will taste as sweet, huh?"

His cold fingertips grace the fabric of your tiny shorts and the touch gives you goosebumps, "look at you" he tugs your panties, nudging at your cunt. "So soaked... is this for me, baby?"

"Yes, Eddie" the way you say his name is enough to make even the strongest man fold, his dick jolting in response. "Take it"

Both of you remove your clothes in such a hurry, you hope you haven't damaged your favorite pair of pajamas.

"Let me see her" he demands, so you spread your legs, revealing your dripping pussy.

When you kiss again, the underlying carnal desire is mutual, saliva connecting in a silver thread as you both gasp for aire. Your hands wander across his chest, fingers playing with his tensing muscles.

"I promise to reward her, okay?" he lines his cock up with your entrance, the fat tip nudging against you, sticky with precum.

You're desperate with anticipation, practically begging, "please do".

He pushes inside you fully, balls slaping against your sticky clit hard. He’s so deep, pushing against your cervix and stretching you out with each thrust, making even the task of breathing painful and laborious.

Brock feels like he's ruined you, yet you look rather content. You've been used to giving; your kindness of a caretaker nature. You're used to giving your all and not receiving, so with every new thrust against you, his hips slamming, you know you'll never feel this pleasure again with anyone else, the delicious sense hitting you in waves that make you feel dizzy. So, in a way, he has ruined you.

"That desperate for me to fill you?" there's no answer, but the sound of rain and skin clapping against skin.

"Yes, give it to me” you sob, "Eddie, please!"

"Focus on taking it" he guides you. It may make him a pervert, but he isn't changing the sheets any time soon; they'll be covered in you and he'll smell them everytime he gets inside them. "I'm gonna cum"

You moan, lightly tugging at the strands of damp hazel hair. He chokes out a husky groan, heat pooling on his stomach.

Eddie's dick twitches inside you, cum filling your eager insides with the biggest load you’ve ever felt. Your pussy clenches, spasming, wrapping tighter around his length in a needy way, your high coming almost at the same time.

Both your breathes come out in ragged pants. He nuzzles against your neck, skins equally damped.

"Fuck"

As soon as those words leave his mouth, the power returns. You should go now, as this is the reason you stayed, but none of you make the move to leave.

"Stay?" he pleads, "It's still raining outside"

How can you say no to those brown puppy eyes? Does he think he can fuck you this good and then make you leave?

"Alright" you swear he smiles, and it's the prettiest smile you've seen in your life. Could you fall this easily in love? "But turn off the lights: I have work tomorrow and need some sleep"

"Whatever you say, baby" he nips at your lower lip, "you know I love to help"

#dilfistwrites #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock fanart #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock smut #eddie brock fanfic #venom #venom movie #venom symbiote #venom smut #venom spoilers #venom 3 #venom the last dance #marvel #marvel smut

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sunni-stuff · 1 month ago

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Adira and Mama have always celebrated valentines together. And now we have Simon, who in addition to wanting to create a connection with Adira, he also wants to recreate that "love" with Mom. So, this Valentine's Day, Simon and Adira team up to give Mom a wonderful gift!

Valentine’s Day.

The holiday where people got all sappy, handed out cards, and smothered their significant others with roses and kisses. The streets would be painted in shades of red and pink, filled with the bustling energy of couples trying to outdo each other with grand romantic gestures.

But for you, Valentine’s Day had always been about something else. Since Adira was born, it became a tradition to celebrate the love of your life in your own way. You didn’t need a partner to make the day meaningful; you had her. Every year, you’d gift her a small box of her favorite chocolates—indulgent, sweet pieces she’d greedily munch on, leaving her cheeks smeared with chocolate and her gummy grin brighter than the sun.

You couldn’t help but remember the memory of how Adira’s love affair with that brand of chocolate started. Godiva Gold Collection—an unnecessarily expensive, fancy brand that had somehow become her favorite. You still had the box that started it all, tucked away in the closet of keepsakes, its shiny gold lid a time capsule of an unexpected moment from your early days at the daycare.

It was your first Valentine’s Day as an assistant, back before you had your own class. You’d been trying to keep a low profile, just another cog in the machine, but one of the dads had made that impossible. For weeks, he’d been flirting with you, persistent in a way that made you roll your eyes more than blush. Day in and day out, he’d linger a little too long during drop-offs or pick-ups, throwing out compliments like confetti. It was harmless enough, but you never entertained it beyond polite smiles.

That Valentine’s Day, though, he decided to up the ante. Strolling in with his daughter on one arm and an elaborate, glittering box of chocolates in the other, he sauntered over to you with the confidence of a man who thought he’d already won.

“I thought you might like these,” he said, handing you the Godiva box with a grin that was probably meant to be charming but mostly came off smug. “Figured you deserved a little something for always being so amazing.”

You took the box graciously, murmuring a polite thank-you. And that’s when the moment turned unexpectedly sweet.

Before you could even process the interaction, a tiny figure toddled into the room—Adira, barely one year old, her chubby legs carrying her as fast as they could toward you. Her little hand stretched up, fingers opening and closing in that unmistakable signal: I want.

You smiled at her, heart melting as it always did. “Of course, little fox,” you murmured, placing the box carefully in her hands. She hugged it to her chest with the kind of pure joy that only a child could muster, her little fingers already fumbling with the lid.

The dad’s confident grin faltered as he watched the scene unfold. His brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait… You give chocolate to all the kids here? Isn’t that, uh, bad for them?” He gestured awkwardly toward Adira, who had now plopped herself onto the floor, fully engrossed in her mission to open the box.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood back up. “No, I don’t give chocolate to all the kids,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “Adira’s mine.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, darting between you and Adira as if trying to piece together a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was in front of him.

“She’s… yours?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, glancing down at Adira, who had successfully pried the box open and was now holding a truffle in her tiny hands like it was a treasure. “Yep. My daughter,” you said, pride evident in your voice. “She’s the reason I started working here, actually. Thought it’d be a good way to balance work and being there for her.”

The man’s face turned an odd shade of red, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. He had assumed, just like so many others, that you were childless and ready to play along with his flirtations. But you weren’t. And that, in some small way, felt like a victory.

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, thought you were single. And… you know, childless.”

“Nope,” you said with a small laugh. “Very much a mom.”

He began backing toward the door with an apologetic smile. “Right, well… I should get going. My daughter’s probably waiting for me. Happy Valentine’s Day!” And just like that, he was gone.

Wasn't he holding his daughter?

His swift retreat had you chuckling even as you turned your attention back to Adira, who was now blissfully munching on her stolen treasure. She looked up at you, her grin wide and sticky, chocolate clinging to her growing pearly whites.

“Yum!” she declared, holding up another piece as if offering it to you.

Now, every Valentine’s Day, when you handed her a new box, she’d squeal with glee, just like she did when she was a baby. And every time, it reminded you why you didn’t need flowers, cards, or romantic gestures to make the day special.

Adira was your Valentine. She always had been, and she always would be.

Valentine’s Day had arrived once again, painting the streets with an abundance of roses, teddy bears, and couples hand in hand. The air was charged with the energy of love—or at least, that’s how the advertisements made it seem.

For you, it was a different story. As a single parent, Valentine's Day didn’t come with the same excitement. Instead, it was a quiet reminder of the love you shared with Adira—the kind of love that didn't need gifts or fancy dinners. You had your own little celebration planned with her at home, but first, there was work.

The daycare was closing early that day, giving most of the staff the chance to spend time with their partners. But for the rest of you—those without a special someone—it was business as usual. The meeting, something about the upcoming budgets for the year, was mandatory.

As you wrapped up your workday, you felt a twinge of guilt. Adira wouldn’t have the patience to wait while you sat through the meeting. She never did, and today wasn’t going to be any different. So, in a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision, you called Simon. He was more than happy to help, even though the idea of being with Adira all afternoon seemed like a challenge. Still, he was eager to do what he could, giving you time to get through the meeting without worrying.

Unbeknownst to you, your apartment was currently in a state of complete disarray.

It all started when Simon, while rummaging through the pantry for snacks, stumbled upon a familiar gold box tucked in the corner. He didn’t know why the sight of the Godiva box stirred something in him, but it did. For a split second, his mind conjured up the idea that you had someone special—someone who’d given you the overpriced chocolate. His stomach twisted at the thought.

Why did that bother him? It wasn’t like he had any claim over you. You were just co-parenting. But still, the idea of some other guy swooping in and winning you over with fancy chocolates rubbed him the wrong way.

The thought simmered in the back of his mind until he turned to Adira, who was running around, triumphantly waving around her Barbie head like a trophy . An idea formed, one that made the edges of his frown soften into something more determined.

“How about we make your mom something special?” he proposed, crouching down to her level.

Adira’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with an enthusiastic grin. “Yeah! Special for Mommy!” She bounced to her feet, already brimming with elation.

“Alright, lass,” he said, ruffling her hair. “We’ll need a plan. Let’s get to work.”

By the time thirty minutes had passed, your apartment was barely recognizable. Flour dusted nearly every surface, glitter and scraps of colorful paper were strewn across the living room, and the faint smell of something slightly burnt wafted from the kitchen. Simon was in over his head.

He had underestimated two things: the sheer mess a three-year-old could create when left unchecked and the complexity of trying to bake cookies with said three-year-old as his assistant.

His phone laid on the counter, a lifeline to Gaz, who had graciously agreed to walk him through baking cookies. "Alright, I’ve got the dough… I think. What’s next?” he asked, glancing at the slightly lumpy mixture in the bowl.

On the other end of the line, Gaz chuckled. “Mate, it shouldn’t look like that. Did you actually measure the ingredients, or did you just eyeball it?”

Simon huffed, frustration bubbling as he wiped a streak of flour off his cheek. “I followed the recipe! Mostly. Adira added her own… interpretations.”

As if on cue, Adira, perched on a stool beside him, giggled mischievously, her tiny hands gripping the now-empty container of sprinkles. She enthusiastically dumped half of it into the bowl, sending a white puff into the air. She giggled uncontrollably as flour settled into her hair, making her look like a tiny ghost.

“Looks funny!” she declared, wiping her flour-dusted hands on his sleeve.

Simon groaned, but he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that followed. “Yeah, you look like you’ve been rolling around in snow.” Glancing at the concoction they were making, pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “This is a disaster.”

“Oi, it’s not a disaster,” Gaz chimed in, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “You’ve just got… a creative helper. Roll with it. Kids love messy projects.”

As they moved on to rolling out the dough, Adira decided to take charge of the cookie cutters. She pressed them into the dough with all the strength her tiny hands could muster, creating wobbly fox shapes that were more abstract than symmetrical. “For Mommy!” she declared with each press, her little voice full of pride.

Simon’s heart softened at her excitement. Despite the chaos, she was having the time of her life, and he couldn’t deny that it was… fun, in a strange, messy sort of way.

“Alright, Gaz,” Simon said, propping the phone closer to his ear as he picked up a cookie sheet. “What temperature do I need to set the oven at?”

“Preheat it to 350. And keep an eye on those cookies—you don’t want them to burn.”

“Got it,” Simon replied, sliding the tray into the oven.

While the cookies were “baking” (a generous term for the mess he’d shoved into the oven), Simon pulled out some paper, markers, and glitter he’d found in your supply cabinet. Adira jumped in eagerly, grabbing a red marker to scribble a heart on a piece of paper.

“Mommy likes red,” she informed him with absolute certainty, her tongue poking out in concentration as she drew wobbly shapes.

“Aye, red it is,” Simon agreed, his own hands now dusted with glitter as he helped her glue a few sparkly hearts onto the card. “We’ll make it the prettiest card she’s ever seen.”

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a disaster zone, glitter was everywhere, and Simon had flour smeared across his cheek. Adira was thrilled, though, holding up her homemade card with pride.

Simon pulled the cookies out of the oven, sighing in relief when they actually looked halfway decent. Adira gasped in delight, clapping her flour-dusted hands together.

“They’re perfect,” she declared, though one cookie was clearly missing a chunk where she’d snuck a bite of the dough earlier.

Simon chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You’re right, they’re perfect.”

By the time you got home, the chaos was still evident—scraps of paper littered the floor, flour smudged on the counters, and a sticky trail of frosting led to the living room. But in the middle of it all were Simon and Adira, sitting at the table with the slightly wonky cookies and a handmade card, waiting for you with proud grins on their faces.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, Mommy!” Adira exclaimed, jumping up to present you with her card.

Your heart melted at the sight, the mess fading into the background as you took in the scene before you. This wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was perfect.

Your voice caught in your throat as you held up the card Adira had made. The inside was adorned with little foxes, and the words scribbled across the page were a mix of Simon’s careful handwriting and Adira’s wobbly, childlike scrawl. The sentence read: “Call me Swiper because I’ve stolen your heart.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tightening at the sight of it. The card was so simple, yet so heartfelt. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered love from the two people who had, in their own way, quietly wormed their way into your heart.

"You guys did all this…?" Your voice a little shaky, as you looked from the card to Simon and Adira, who were both sitting proudly at the table. Simon had flour on his cheek, and Adira’s face was a picture of joy, her hands covered in frosting and sprinkles. It was clear they’d both put their all into this little surprise.

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face as he shrugged. “Well, Adira here had the idea. I just... tried not to burn the cookies.”

Adira giggled, holding up one of the cookies as if it were a trophy. It was slightly misshapen, with sprinkles all over it, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect in its imperfection. “Mommy, for you!” she exclaimed, her voice full of pride.

Your eyes softened, your heart swelling with love and something else you couldn’t quite place—appreciation, gratitude, maybe even a little awe. The moment was small, yet so significant.

“Thank you, Adira,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling as you knelt down to scoop her up into a hug. She squirmed in your arms, giggling as she wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, her little fingers gripping your hair with an uncoordinated but tender affection.

Simon stood back, watching the two of you with a quiet smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough. He was content, knowing he’d been part of this moment.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as she squished her cheek against yours, still grinning ear to ear.

Simon hesitated for a moment, a twinge of uncertainty crossing his face as he stood there watching the tender scene. He knew he wasn’t quite there yet, not in the way you and Adira had been all this time. He was a part of this moment, but he still wasn’t sure exactly where he fit in. His eyes flickered between you, your outstretched arms, and the small bundle of joy that was his daughter, so full of love and happiness—it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore.

But then, your words cut through the haze of his hesitation. "Why are you just standing there?"

You were smiling, the playful hint of a challenge in your eyes, but there was something more in your voice too—an invitation. You didn’t have to say anything else; it was in the way you held out your arms, in the way you pulled him in with your gaze.

Simon took a slow, steadying breath, his heart beating a little faster. He moved forward, tentative at first, before lowering himself to kneel beside you both. Adira giggled as he wrapped his arms around the two of you, her laughter echoing in the warm air of the apartment. He wasn’t just trying to fit into a place anymore. He carved one out for himself—right there, with you and Adira. And that, more than anything, felt like home.

It wasn’t the romantic, picture-perfect Valentine’s Day you’d imagined in the past, but it was better. It was real. It was messy, sweet, and full of love. The kind of love that came in small, beautiful moments like these.

And for the first time in a long while, you realized that maybe this was exactly how it was supposed to be.

A/N: I just wanna say rq, I appreciate the love AND to the anon who sent this, your brain needs to be kissed. I said I wasn't gonna do long fics as often but this was too juicy to pass up. Thank you!

ALSO, pls yall don't have to send me asks to be on the taglist! If you comment I'll add u!

TAGLIST: @pipedream411 @ficcharsimp009 @frogofrg @loonagabs @lunamoonbby @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @julesjuminos @tacticalgirlboss @teenagellamaangel @gifted-aurora @awildewit @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @t3a-bag @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @azaleapeachberry @terry2227 @rip-cod-brainrot @montenegroisr @sweetheartturtle2007 @hepprine @kodokunarisu-blog

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #singlemom!reader #we meet again #sunshine sunni

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sapphic-kpop-fics · 1 month ago

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Princess Treatment (Minatozaki Sana x Reader)

Smut, fluff

Early birthday smut for Sana because inspiration struck so why not, pillow princess sana, soft sex

Your girlfriend, Sana, had always reminded you of royalty, from her features to her mannerisms, Sana was an elegant woman. The nickname “Princess” came very easily, and of course Sana loved it, she adored being pampered and being complimented every second. Plus it doesn’t hurt she was a self proclaimed pillow princess, which you didn’t mind after all you just want her to be happy.

Especially tonight, her birthday, she had left early in the morning having to work unfortunately and you urged her to go out to dinner with her friends like she wanted, insisting you’ll have your own little celebration when she gets home.

It was now 7:30, Sana has texted you that she’d be home soon. You were setting out a little cake and chocolate covered strawberries you had bought earlier along with some flowers and a little bag from her favorite jewelry store that holds a new necklace she couldn’t stop talking about. You can hear the shutting of a car door indicating she was home, she enters your home wearing a light pink dress highlighting her features and necklaces with diamonds (most that you had bought for her), her honey colored hair fell onto to her shoulders framing her face perfectly. Setting her keys and purse on the side table by the door, she turns to look for you when your arms wrap around her from behind and pulling her close making the your girl squeal a bit in surprise.

“Hi Princess.” You whisper in her ear, “Happy birthday.”

You can see a smile take over her entire face, turning in your arms to look at you.

“Thank you, baby.” She whispers back before pulling you into a kiss, soft at first but turns passionate, though you’re quick to stop that. You know her, she likes a bit of teasing and foreplay and that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

“I got something for you.” You say excitedly when you pull away, the smile on your girlfriends face even bigger somehow as you grab her hand and drag her behind you to your dining table, Sana’s heels tap loudly on the floor as she walks with you. First you hand her the flowers, pink roses, which she immediately lifts up to take a sniff of before they’re taken and replaced by the bag. Sana believes you enjoy her birthday more than her which may be true, your eyes shining with excitement as she opens her gift. Her eyes widen as she open the box inside, a necklace with little diamonds decorating it, her mouth opens but words don’t leave for a moment.

“Baby…” She starts, “This is way too much.”

“Well, you kept saying how much you wanted it.” You step closer to her, though her eyes are still fixated on the necklace.

“I can’t take this, it’s way too expensive for a birthday present.” She insists as to goes to close the box and put it back in the bag, but she’s stopped by you taking the box instead.

“Anything for you, princess.” Your fingers lift her chin to look at you, “turn around” she follows the direction as you take the necklace from its box, settling it around her neck and locking the clasp before grabbing her shoulders so she faces you again. The necklace layers above the others, it’s thin but compliments the two resting on her neck already, your mission to show your lovers worth and elegance, “You look so pretty baby.”

Once again she captures your lips in a passionate kiss, this time more eager and your resolve is thinner but you pull away anyways.

“Let’s have some cake.” You tell her, turning around to grab the plates you had already put on the table and cutting a small piece of cake for each of you.

Sana takes a seat next to you, going to grab a fork which you move out of her reach and instead opting to bring yours up to her mouth. Princess’ shouldn’t feed themselves anyways, you’d gladly be the one feeding her grapes off the vine in one of those old movies. A delighted moan leaves her mouth at the taste, it was her favorite after all.

“You’re too good to me.” She says, eyes closed in bliss as she eats the cake.

You answer raising a strawberry to her lips which she graciously takes a bite out of.

“I don’t know if I love you or this food more right now.” Sana jokes, the same sweet smile on her face as always.

Your finger steals some frosting off the cake, bringing it to your own mouth to taste but your girlfriend hand wraps around your wrist and brings it to her lips instead. Tongue swirling around the tip of your finger to clean it off, and leaving it in her mouth a moment too long for it to be innocent. Sana isn’t stupid, she knows you’re teasing her and building up her anticipation but that doesn’t mean she can’t have her own little fun.

“Can we go to bed?” She asks, a normal question but there’s a hidden desperation that only you can catch.

“Mm, first, I set up a bath. Just need to add water.”

You stand up to go to the bathroom, leaving Sana sitting with a small pout but she gets up to follow you. Making it to the bathroom where you’re already just in your pants, filling the tub she leans on the doorframe. The scent of essential oils and bath salts fill her nose while little unscented candles line the bathroom while there’s little petals and bubbles in the water.

“All this for me?” She says making you turn to her, smiling at the other.

“Just treating my princess the way she deserves.” You say walking up to her to grab her hands and pulls her fully into the bathroom.

You walk around her and unclasp the few necklaces on her neck, carefully setting them down on the counter beside you before moving to unzip the satin dress and letting it drop to the floor, leaving her in her lacy pink panties which you’d honestly barely classify as underwear. Standing in front of the mirror, you wrap your arms around her with your head on her shoulder.

“Look, you’re so pretty.” Sana meets your eyes in the mirror, a blush spreading on her face.

You then move to be in front of her before dropping onto your knees, pulling her “underwear” down so they’re on the floor. Moving to her heels you unbuckle them and set them off to the side, making sure the girl didn’t have to do any work.

Now standing at eye level you unashamedly check her out before ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes and pulling by the hand to the bath, stepping in first and telling her to sit between your legs. With her back to your front and head rolling back to rest on your shoulder, she sighs contentedly. You can’t help but look down to her with a smile, adoration evident on your face.

“Stop staring.” She slightly opens one eye to peak at you.

“You’re just so pretty.” Sealing your words with a kiss.

Your hands, which were originally resting on her stomach moves to her thighs rubbing up and down causing more sighs from the girl. Giving in slightly you leave feathery kisses on her neck and lips, a couple bites here and there for a few minutes while she whines below you.

“Please.” Sana whispers, finally voicing her need for you, willing to ditch the comforting warm water.

“Let’s dry off first, yeah?”

Sana doesn’t answer before eagerly standing and getting out of the tub, grabbing the hanging towel which you’re quick to snatch from her once again not letting her lift a finger today. You use the towel to dry her off first, though you purposely let your hands run against her skin with the cloth leaving goosebumps in their path.

“Wait for me on the bed. Sit, don’t lay down.” You tell her with a kiss.

Sana runs off a bit too quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving you to dry off. You put your sweat pants back on but stay shirtless before joining her in your room, where she’s patiently sitting on the edge of the bed.

You sit behind her leaving some room, putting your hands on her shoulders you start to massage them a bit causing some relieved moans from Sana.

“You work so hard, my love. Let me take care of you.” You whisper in her ear as you move her hair to the side so your hands can press into her back.

“Fuck” Sana gasps under her breath when your fingers rub out the knots in her lower back

This continued for a few minutes until you had enough of hearing the little noises she’s making at your fingers, so you leaned in and replaced your hands on her shoulders with your lips leaving light kisses on her shoulder blades and down her back a bit. Sana’s breathing picks up and she’s moaning for different reasons, your hands slide to play with her chest, moving your lips to the side of her neck leaving a small purple mark to highlight the jewelry you got her earlier.

“Want me to touch you pretty girl?” You ask her when she starts pressing her thighs together.

“Please.”

“Lay down.”

She lays back immediately spreading her legs so you can slot yourself between them, face to face with her and lips touching ever so slightly. Hands caressing her thighs.

“Anything you want tonight.” You tell her

“This might be the best part of my gift.”

“I can return the necklace then?”

“You’d have to kill me first.” She says feigning seriousness, making you laugh before kissing her, and for the first time tonight when she deepens it you comply.

Forcing her lips apart with your tongue to explore her mouth causing her to whimper into your mouth.

“How do you want me?” You ask when you pull away, breathing heavily. Sana’s mind explodes at this, you being so willing to do anything to please her and take care of her.

“Fingers first, I need to see your face.”

“As you wish, princess.”

Your hand that was on her thigh is now moving to her center, you don’t tease anymore, you know she’s been anticipating this all day. You weren’t exactly subtle in your hints at what your “celebration” was, and your thoughts are confirmed when your fingers draw a line from her entrance up to her clit where you stop to make slow circles.

“Oh, princess. So wet. Sorry you had to wait so long.”

Sana can’t answer, not in words at least though she’s rich in whimpers and whines as your fingers speed up their circles.

“More.” She finally makes out, lifting her hips in hopes of getting more pressure.

Without hesitation you push two fingers inside her, moving them slowly at first to give her time to adjust.

“You’re doing so good baby.” You sing praises in her ear, looking down to her face that is flushed mouth open slightly as sounds leave it, tears falling from the corners of her eyes from the amount of pleasure she’s feeling.

“Faster. Please.”

You follow her every request, she is the birthday girl after all.

Sana’s hands find your hair, pulling you to kiss her or more so make out with her. Saliva getting all over both of your faces, and lips becoming swollen. Sana only pulls away when shes about to reach her climax, mouth opening and hanging there.

“Oh fuck. Don’t stop. Please.” Her words are desperate though it’s been clear she doesn’t need to beg, but she had a reputation as your good girl.

“Come on, princess. You can do it. Cum for me.”

You reach a comforting hand to her face which she leans into as she cums, louder high pitched moans leaving her mouth. After she rides out her orgasm, you reach your fingers previously inside of her to her mouth using the thumb already resting on her cheek to pull her mouth open before pushing the fingers between her lips mirroring her earlier actions as she cleans your fingers clean off.

“Taste good baby?” You ask when her mouth is free.

“Mm” Sana’s mind is fuzzy and she can’t even comprehend speaking.

“Can I taste you?”

The girl underneath you nods quickly, graciously taking any pleasure you give her. You shift so you’re on your stomach between her legs, one arm looping around her thigh with a grip that could leave a mark and the other going to intertwine your fingers with hers while she tangles her free hand in your hair.

After a few minutes her thighs are littered with purple marks and indents from your teeth, though you make sure to sooth them all with a little kiss. Sana’s mind spins even more somehow and she contemplates begging you to put your mouth on her but as if you read her mind you lick at her center only once though before leaving a kiss on her clit.

“You taste so good princess.”

“You said you wouldn’t tease.” Sana whines, and you could hear the pout on her lips as her hand that’s resting on your head moves you to her center again.

At the first sign of dissatisfaction you immediately lean back in, leaving little licks, moaning at her taste and sending vibrations through her.

“Feels so good.” Her words are mostly to herself, a whispered whine, her manicured hand leaving your hair to go to her chest squeezing at the skin. The brunettes body shakes in overstimulation still sensitive from her previous orgasm. You can’t help but push two fingers into her so you can hear more of the little noises leaving her and feel her tighten around you once more. Sana’s back lifts off the mattress and her moans turn into strangled cries as the pleasure takes over her body.

“Oh m- I-“ She stumbles over the sentence she’s tries to get out.

“Cum in my mouth princess.” You mumble against her pussy and quicken your fingers though you remove them when she cums in order to taste all of her, releasing onto your tongue.

Her thighs squeeze your head as she rides out the high, she pushes your head away with a whine as she rests limply on the mattress. You come up to meet her face again, her eyes are close and her face is flushed with a few tears streaking through her make up which you wipe away with your thumbs.

“You okay Princess?” You ask as you kiss her cheeks making her nod her head.

“Sleep with me.” She opens her arms as an invitation to lay with, Sana is fast asleep after you cuddle up to her.

“Goodnight princess.” You whisper to her sleeping figure, “Happy birthday.”

#kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop smut #sana minatozaki x reader #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana smut #minatozaki sana x reader #sana minatozaki #sana minatozaki smut #sana x reader #sana smut #sana imagines #sana minatozaki x fem reader #twice x fem reader #twice smut #twice sana #twice x reader #twice imagines

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mywhisperingwords · 9 days ago

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the chocolates | fred g. weasley

summary: fred weasley, a love potion, and a closet—the perfect recipe for disaster word count: 2.5k masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual post-dinner chaos—laughter, shouts from an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, and the faint scratching of quills from students rushing to finish essays.

You were curled up in your usual spot near the fire, absently chewing on the end of your quill as you debated whether your essay on Bezoars needed another paragraph. The warmth of the flames combined with the lively hum of the room almost lulled you into a state of contentment.

That is, until the portrait hole slammed open with a bang, silencing the room.

Fred Weasley burst in, looking like he’d sprinted all the way from the Great Hall. His tie was askew, his hair sticking up in several directions, and his face—well, his face was set in an expression of utter determination.

“There you are!” he boomed, pointing directly at you.

You blinked. “What—”

But before you could finish, Fred crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, clutching your hand in both of his as the entire room watched in stunned silence.

“My darling,” Fred said, his voice trembling with emotion. “My light, my muse, my reason for existing—I’ve been a fool to wait so long to tell you this, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you.”

The quill slipped from your fingers. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated, louder this time, as though sheer volume would make his words more believable. “You’re the sun to my Quidditch pitch, the sugar to my treacle tart, the spell to my wand. Say you’ll be mine forever!”

A beat of stunned silence followed. Then—

“Did he just compare you to a Quidditch pitch?” George’s amused voice cut through the stillness.

Fred whipped around, glaring at his twin. “Shut it, George. You wouldn’t understand true love if it hit you with a Bludger.”

The absurdity of the situation might have been funny and a bit sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You yanked your hand out of Fred’s grip and stood, glaring at him.

“Fred, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, springing to his feet with alarming energy. “I’m in love with you. Have been for ages. But tonight, I ate those chocolates and suddenly realized that life without you is meaningless.”

Your stomach dropped. Chocolates?

“Wait,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “What chocolates?”

Fred grinned. “The ones in the green box on my bed! Absolutely delicious—did you make them for me, darling? A little token of your affection?”

You froze, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. The chocolates.

You had made them, but not for Fred. They were part of your Potions homework—Professor Snape had tasked the class with brewing a subtle love potion and incorporating it into a confection. Your plan had been to dispose of them after class. But you’d gotten distracted while helping George brainstorm a prank and probably accidentally left the box in the boys’ dormitory.

Fred had eaten them.

The rest of the evening spiraled into chaos.

Fred followed you everywhere, loudly declaring his undying devotion to anyone who would listen. The common room was no longer just alive with its usual noise—it was filled with Fred’s dramatic serenades and heartfelt speeches.

At one point, he climbed onto the back of the sofa to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! I would like you all to know that I, Fred Weasley, am in love. Truly, madly, deeply—”

“Fred, get down!” you hissed, tugging at his arm.

“—with the most beautiful soul in all of Hogwarts!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “And I don’t care who knows it!”

The younger students cheered enthusiastically, while the older ones groaned in exasperation.

“I’m begging you,” George muttered, rubbing his temples. “End this madness.”

You’d had enough. Grabbing Fred’s wrist, you dragged him out of the common room and into an empty corridor.

“Fred, listen to me. You’re under the influence of a love potion. This isn’t real.” Even if you secretly wished it was, but you would never admit that out loud.

Fred’s response was to grab your hands again, gazing at you with heartbreaking sincerity. “But it feels real, my love. Isn’t that what matters?”

“No!” you snapped, pulling away. “Because you’re going to feel very stupid when this wears off.”

It took until the next morning for the potion to wear off, leaving you sleep-deprived and thoroughly annoyed.

When Fred stumbled into the Great Hall, you could tell instantly that he was back to his normal self. His wide-eyed horror when he spotted you was proof enough.

“I—oh no,” he said, freezing in the doorway. “I didn’t… did I?”

You folded your arms. “You did.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sank into the seat across from you. “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough that half the school thinks we’re engaged,” you deadpanned.

He groaned louder, burying his face in his arms. “Merlin, kill me now.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of hope in your heart. “Well, at least now I know what you’d be like if you fancied me.”

Fred froze, his arms still covering his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. But then, slowly, he sat up, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, that'll never happen," he said, his tone a little too casual. "Can you imagine? Me, fancying you? Talk about a nightmare."

His words hit harder than you expected, your chest tightening uncomfortably.

"Right. A nightmare," you echoed, keeping your voice light even though his dismissal stung more than you wanted to admit.

Fred shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, thanks for, uh, not hexing me last night. I think l'll just... be going now."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone at the table with your thoughts.

Over the next few days, things didn't go back to normal like you'd hoped.

Fred was acting... strange. He didn't avoid you outright, but he also wasn't his usual self. Gone were the easy grins and playful jabs he always threw your way. Instead, he seemed quieter, more distant, and almost hesitant whenever you were around.

At first, you thought he was embarrassed about what had happened, which made sense. After all, he'd spent an entire evening serenading you and professing his undying love in front of half the common room. Who wouldn't want to disappear after that?

But the longer his odd behavior went on, the harder it was to shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't just embarrassment keeping him away.

Maybe he regretted it-not just the potion-induced spectacle, but all of it.

The chocolates, the confessions, even spending time with you.

The thought made your chest ache in a way that surprised you. You hadn't realized just how much you'd grown to enjoy Fred's attention, his laughter, the way he always managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel brighter.

But now, it felt like he was slipping away, and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that Fred Weasley would never feel that way about you. And even if he did, it was only because of a stupid potion. Nothing real.

Still, the ache didn't go away.

The days dragged on, and the awkwardness between you and Fred showed no signs of fading. It was as though an invisible wall had gone up between you, and neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break it down.

Unfortunately for you, George Weasley had noticed.

One evening, as you sat in the common room trying (and failing) to focus on your Potions essay, George dropped into the seat across from you with a casual grin that immediately put you on edge.

“Hey there,” he said, propping his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, George?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” he asked, feigning offense. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

You shot him a flat look.

“Alright, fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t help but notice you and Fred have been acting… weird lately. Care to explain?”

Your stomach clenched. “We’re not acting weird.”

George snorted. “Right. And Peeves isn’t a menace. Come on, what happened? Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other and now you’re too shy to make eye contact?”

Heat flooded your face. “What? No! That’s not—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” George smirked, but his eyes were sharper than usual, like he was trying to piece something together. “Still, you two have been avoiding each other like the plague, and it’s getting pretty pathetic. So, here’s the deal—I’m going to help.”

You groaned. “I don’t need your help, George.”

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off his robes. “Because you’re getting it anyway.”

Before you could argue, he was gone, whistling as he disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

The next day, you found yourself standing outside a supply closet near the Charms classroom, clutching a note George had pressed into your hand that morning. “Meet me here at seven,” it read, the handwriting unmistakably his.

You had half a mind to ignore it, but curiosity—and a faint flicker of hope that he might have some kind of plan to fix things with Fred—got the better of you.

When you opened the door, the last person you expected to see was Fred, but you should’ve.

He was leaning against a stack of boxes, arms crossed and looking just as startled to see you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“George told me to meet him,” you said, stepping inside. “Why are you here?”

“He told me the same thing,” Fred muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the door. “Wait a minute—”

Before either of you could react, the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clunk.

Fred lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, jiggling it uselessly.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “It’s locked?”

Fred sighed, resting his forehead against the door. “Yeah. It’s locked.”

The silence in the cramped closet was unbearable. You could hear every breath Fred took, every restless shuffle of his feet. He was standing close—too close—his familiar scent of soap and something faintly sweet filling the air.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to laugh. Mostly, you wanted to get out of there before you said something you’d regret.

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” Fred muttered, pacing the tiny space like a trapped animal.

“Maybe he’s sick of you avoiding me,” you snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

Fred froze mid-step, his back to you. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because you’ve barely said three words to me in the last week, and you won’t even look at me.”

Fred’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it!” you demanded, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I can think is that you’re embarrassed about what happened. About me. And honestly, Fred, if that’s the case, then—”

“It’s because I like you, alright?” Fred exploded, spinning around to face you.

The words slammed into you like a rogue Bludger, knocking the air from your lungs.

“What?” you whispered, barely able to process what he’d just said.

“I like you,” Fred repeated, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve liked you for ages, and that stupid potion just… it made it impossible to hide. And then when it wore off, I panicked because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to ruin things, so I thought maybe if I stayed away…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I was avoiding you because I’m a coward. Not because I’m embarrassed. Never that.”

Your heart was racing, your emotions a chaotic swirl of disbelief, anger, and something else—something warm and fragile that you’d been too afraid to name until now.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling.

Fred blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, stepping closer until you were mere inches apart. “Because I like you too, and you could’ve just said something instead of making me think you hated me.”

Fred’s eyes widened, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you with a desperation that made your knees weak.

You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his robes as the tension that had been building between you for weeks melted away, replaced by something infinitely sweeter.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well, well. About time.”

You and Fred broke apart, spinning to see George leaning casually against the doorframe, his grin so wide it was practically criminal.

“George?” Fred said, his voice laced with both shock and irritation.

“Don’t mind me,” George said, waving a hand. “Just here to check on my brilliant plan. Which, I must say, worked beautifully.”

Your stomach dropped. “Plan?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” George said, crossing his arms. “Who do you think left that box of chocolates on Fred’s bed in the first place?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “You knew about the love potion?”

“Of course I knew,” George said, looking offended. “I took them from your bag after you got distracted helping me brainstorm pranks. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to give you two a little push.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words failing you. “You—you tricked me?”

“I prefer ‘strategically intervened,’” George said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “And before you get too mad, just remember—it worked. You’re welcome.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, George, you’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably brilliant,” George corrected, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very smug letter to write to Mum about my matchmaking skills. Ta!”

With that, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving you and Fred standing in stunned silence.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Only George.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the last week finally lifting. “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Only after I thank him,” Fred said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Because, for once, his meddling actually worked out.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “It did.”

This time, when he kissed you, there was no tension, no uncertainty—just the kind of warmth that made you wonder how you’d ever lived without it.

#harry potter #fic #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #imagine #weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred fic #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fluff #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley fic #fluff

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tojbnuy · 3 months ago

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you make your boyfriend toji try crumbl cookies.

“they look like diabetes. i paid $30 for diabetes?”

“shuuuush its for the vibes. okay we have the guts-“

“what the fuck is a guts cookie”

“stop interrupting!! we have the guts cookie and pink sugar and chocolate chip and look they had banana pudding!”

“i thought we were trying cookies”

“do you ever have fun?”

“can i eat now?” he didn’t let you reply just stuck his massive hands in the box and picked up the guts cookie.

“tastes like high blood pressure. next.”

“hey it’s my turn.” and toji shoved the purple cookie right into your mouth, decorating your lips in sprinkles.

“yeah you’re right that’s gross.” he smiled at that and kissed the sprinkles off your chin.

“this is uncooked.” he grumbled while shoving half the pink sugar cookie into his mouth.

“open.” and now there was a massive chunk in your mouth too.

“do you want to maybe swallow that before having more.”

“that’s my line.” he grinned while you shoved his shoulder.

“i’m not eating the other one give me pudding.”

you stared wide eyed as he downed five spoonfuls of the pudding. his expression remained angry but he didn’t seem to be breathing in between bites.

“open.” ahh it was your turn.

“mmmm that’s yummy. okay now rate them.”

“um. shit , gross , waste of money, and decent.” he said, pointing to each cookie as he went.

“yeah that’s why you ate every single crumb you ogre.”

“i paid for this shit i’m not wasting it.” he said as he picked up the remaining chocolate chip cookie and downed the entire thing in one bite.

“what’s next weeks flavors?”

#jjk #jjk toji #jjk x you #gojo satoru #toji fushigro x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji x oc #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro #tojbnuy

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jaylalolz · 3 months ago

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could you write some Nicholas fluff about him taking care of you while on your period? I’m getting some cramps rn and he’s all I’m thinking about 😓

❛ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

SUMMARY, nicholas taking care of you while on your cycle

A/N, had 2 write this bc i’m going through the same thing as u rn 💔💔 hope u like it <3

WARNINGS, none

He pulled up to the apartment and unlocked the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake her if she’d fallen asleep. When he stepped inside, the soft hum of the TV told him she was still awake, probably curled up under a blanket on the couch.

“Nicholas?” Her voice was soft, slightly hoarse, as if she’d been trying to sleep but couldn’t.

“Hey, babe.” He set the bags down and walked over to her, where she lay wrapped up in a blanket, her face showing just how uncomfortable she was. He knelt beside her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I got everything.”

“You didn’t have to,” she whispered, though the appreciation in her eyes told him she was glad he had.

“I wanted to,” Nicholas said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should relax. I’ll set everything up.”

He got to work, unpacking the groceries and grabbing a glass of water for her before pulling the heating pad out of its box. He plugged it in and gently placed it over her lower abdomen, adjusting it so it fit perfectly.

“Is that good?” he asked, watching her face for any sign of relief.

“Mmm, that’s perfect,” she sighed, her body sinking deeper into the couch. “Thank you.”

Nicholas smiled and then disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the chocolate chips. “I know these help,” he teased lightly, holding them out to her.

She giggled softly, taking the chocolate chips from his hand. “You know me too well.”

“I try,” he replied with a wink before leaning over to the TV. “And now, for the most important part.” He scrolled through their movie library, stopping at her go-to comfort movie, the one that always made her feel better no matter what.

She smiled as the opening credits began to roll. “I love you,” she said softly, looking at him with such tenderness it made his heart swell.

Nicholas settled onto the couch beside her, pulling her close so she could lean against him, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her while his other hand absentmindedly stroked her hair, the rhythm soothing.

“I love you more,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

For the next hour, they watched the movie in comfortable silence, her body slowly relaxing against his. She nibbled on the chocolate, her hand resting on his chest as she snuggled closer, letting the warmth of his body and the heating pad ease her pain.

He glanced down at her, watching the way her eyelids fluttered as sleep began to take over. She looked peaceful now, the discomfort from earlier finally melting away. He tightened his hold on her slightly, careful not to wake her, but wanting her to feel how much he cared in that moment.

When her breathing evened out, Nicholas whispered, “I love you,” as if she could still hear him in her dreams. He knew she’d wake up feeling better, but more than that, he wanted her to know that he’d always be there—flowers, snacks, heating pads, and all.

As the movie played on, Nicholas stayed there with her, not moving a muscle, content to just hold her while she slept.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez x reader

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v6quewrlds · 1 month ago

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can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

#&. joey b.#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #bengals #cincinnati football #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!oc #x black reader #black!reader #black reader

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