#oh god why can’t i just fall asleep already

[insomniac4000]

HR Nightmare-ChrisMD

After knee surgery Chris his social media manager looks after him

ChrisMD was not a good patient.

At least, that’s what Y/N had gathered in the eight months she’d worked as his social media manager. If he so much as had a sore throat, you’d think it was the bubonic plague. The dramatics were part of his charm, really. But when he found out he’d need actual knee surgery from years of pushing his body too far for YouTube challenges and football matches, Chris was oddly quiet about it.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d said. “They just give you the sleepy gas and fix you up like a flat tyre.”

Y/N had rolled her eyes, “Chris, it’s your knee, not a punctured bicycle wheel.” Chris just shrugged and gave a small smile, the lopsided one full of confidence.

Still, when the day came, she was the one standing awkwardly at the private clinic’s reception desk with a takeaway coffee in one hand and a tote bag full of snacks, painkillers, and an oversized hoodie he’d left at the office two months ago.

The receptionist gave her a polite smile. “He should be out of recovery soon. You’re the...?”

“Friend,” Y/N said quickly, then regretted it. “Well, technically I work for him. Social media manager. But I’m just helping him home. I mean, not home home. Just... to his house.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I over-explained.”

Twenty minutes later, a nurse wheeled out a slightly dazed, incredibly dopey-looking Chris. His curly hair was smushed flat on one side and his expression was glassy with the lingering effects of anaesthetic.

“Y/N!” he called, far too loudly. “Is that you? Oh thank God. You’ve got the good face.”

Y/N blinked. “The... what?”

“The good face,” he said seriously. “The one I like. Not like that scary nurse with the eyebrows that move independently. The pretty one."

Y/N stifled a laugh and patted his arm trying to hide the blush rising on her cheeks. “Come on, loverboy. Let’s get you in the car before you say something HR can’t un-hear.”

“Oh no,” Chris slurred dramatically. “You can’t HR me. I am HR.”

“You are not HR,” Y/N muttered as she helped the nurse ease him into the passenger seat. “You forget to pay your parking tickets, how would you manage a workplace dispute?”

Chris wagged a finger at her, his eyelids drooping. “That’s why I have you.”

"I just make you look like a tit on Tiktok. Come on let's get your home,"

At his flat, Chris initially insisted on climbing the stairs despite Y/N's suggestion the lift would be safer for them, it was five floors.

“I am a man,” he declared, “not a Victorian widow with weak ankles.”

She won out and it was lucky thing as even the walk from the lift to the flat itself was taxing. He made it to the bedroom eventually with a dramatic groan and then flopped face-first into his bed.

Y/N tried not to stare at the back of his head too long. He looked so... soft. So unlike the quick-talking, constantly-moving version of him she was used to at the office. For a moment, she let herself watch him—the little twitch of his foot as he settled, the faintest smile on his lips.

“Need anything?” she asked, trying to shake it off.

He turned his head lazily. “Soup.”

“Chicken?”

“Love you,” he murmured.

Y/N paused. “I’m going to pretend you said ‘thank you’ and not ‘love you’.”

“Both,” Chris said, already falling asleep.

Thirty minutes later, Y/N returned with a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup (homemade as in, she added garlic powder to a Tesco tin). She set it down carefully on his nightstand and fluffed the pillow behind his head with the gentleness of someone who had definitely imagined doing this before—just not under post-op circumstances.

Chris stirred and cracked open one eye.

“You’re like... a really hot nurse,” he mumbled.

Y/N snorted. “Okay, that’s the anaesthetic talking.”

“Nooo,” Chris said, dragging the word out like a whiny toddler. “I’ve always thought it. Just didn’t say it 'cause HR would have a field day.”

Y/N blinked. “Chris...”

He stared up at her, eyes glassy, voice dreamy. “Any man would be lucky to have you, you know that?”

Her mouth went dry. “Okay, definitely the anaesthetic.”

“I’d take my shot if it wasn’t an HR nightmare,” he added, then picked up the spoon and missed his mouth by an inch.

Y/N took the spoon gently from his hand. “Let’s not ruin your sheets.”

“I mean it though,” he said as she fed him a spoonful. “Like... if I wasn’t your boss. You’re funny. And smart. And you remember to charge camera batteries before shoots. That’s like... marriage material.”

Y/N’s heart skipped. Then kicked into overdrive. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it.

“Chris,” she said softly, brushing a bit of soup from his chin. “Let’s get you some sleep, yeah?”

He smiled, eyes fluttering closed. “Okay. But you smell nice too. Like strawberries.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

The next morning, Chris was more coherent—and much more mortified.

He groaned, holding his head as he sat up slowly. “Ugh. Did I say anything embarrassing?”

Y/N, who was seated on the chair beside his bed scrolling through TikTok, didn’t look up.

“Well,” she said casually, “you tried to proposition me while covered in chicken soup.”

Chris paled. “Oh God. Did I?”

“‘I’d take my shot if it wasn’t an HR nightmare,’” she quoted, raising an eyebrow. “Ring any bells?”

Chris clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned into his palm.

“I knew I shouldn’t have joked about HR. HR jokes never age well.”

“You also called me ‘marriage material.’ And said I smelled like strawberries.”

He peeked through his fingers. “Okay, that part might not have been the anaesthetic.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Chris hesitated, then sighed. “Look... I meant it. All of it. Well, except maybe the bit about being in love with you because of soup. But... yeah. I’ve fancied you for a while.”

Y/N stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Seriously?” she asked. “You’re my boss.”

“Which is why I haven’t said anything. I didn’t want to make things weird. But I also didn’t expect to say it while drooling chicken broth into my pillow.”

Y/N laughed despite herself. “Yeah, not your smoothest moment.”

Chris smiled sheepishly. “Look, if it makes things weird, pretend I didn’t say anything. I’ll never bring it up again.”

There was a long pause. Then Y/N stood up, walked to the edge of the bed, and said, “Or maybe... we figure out a way to not make it weird.”

He blinked. “You mean...?”

She leaned down, inches from his face. “I mean, I’ve fancied you too, Chris. For a while. And it’s not just because you look good in football shorts. Though that doesn’t hurt.”

Chris grinned. “So... can we go on a date when I can walk again?”

“I think HR will survive,” she teased.

“Only if you make me soup again.”

“Only if you don’t flirt while drooling next time.”

A week later, Chris was hobbling around with crutches, a smug smile plastered on his face every time Y/N entered the room. They hadn’t told anyone yet, but WillNE had definitely noticed when Chris’s face was different, he was smiling more his jokes weren't as man. He just had that LOOK, the one no one had seen since Shannon.

“Who’s staying over?” Will had texted.

Chris replied with a gif of a soup can.

Y/N, sitting on the couch beside him, threw a cushion at his head.

He dodged it with a grin.

“Still got it. Bad knee and all.”

Y/N shook her head fondly. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m your worst,” he said, then paused. “Too soon?”

She kissed his cheek. “Just enough.”

[personaversace]

I just adore bon iver’s last two albums, and i don’t really tend to herald music to be “ahead of it’s time” but these two albums strike me as a hopeful yet incredibly mournful transmission from a decade or two in the future, Maybe it’s the apocalypse, maybe it’s utopia, or maybe somewhere in between. Either way, Bon Iver crafts a beautiful sense of uncertainty with these albums. Both of these albums are unconventional down to the core, Vernon’s use of folk as a starting point is absolutely brilliant but it’s the way he incorporates everything else that makes them feel so alien yet incredibly enjoyable through & through. Both albums are incredibly texturally rich, pulling from sounds that blur the line between synthetic and organic and yet still feel uniquely bon Iver’s.

They’re albums that I feel their message is one that is both deeply intimate yet incredibly expansive and abstract. An idiosyncratic meditation on the human condition.

Below are some of my favourites from the two albums.

https://youtu.be/Hs5rXRPC0rc?si=xxYpyeP_QC8k8Jia

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Pillow Problems

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, best friends to something more

Word Count: ~2.2k

Summary: You can’t fall asleep without hugging a pillow. Lando finds out.

⸻

It starts as a casual movie night.

Nothing fancy. Just you and Lando in sweats, too much popcorn, and a ridiculous action movie neither of you are really paying attention to. It’s late — past midnight — and you’re both curled up on the couch under a shared blanket like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Because with Lando, it kind of is.

You’ve been best friends for so long that sleepovers don’t even feel weird anymore. He’s crashed on your couch after race weekends more times than you can count, and you’ve stolen his guest bed on road trips whenever hotels were overbooked.

But this time… there’s only one bed.

Your bed.

“You sure you’re okay with me sleeping in here?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe, toothbrush in hand and curls still damp from his shower.

You roll your eyes. “Lando, I’ve seen you wear flip flops with socks. You think I’m going to draw the line at you borrowing my bed?”

He snorts and throws a hand to his chest. “That was ONE TIME.”

You toss a pillow at him. “Brush your teeth, Norris.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are under the covers. You’re on one side, he’s on the other. very obvious pillow barrier stands between you, like a soft, cotton fortress of boundaries.

But there’s a problem.

You can’t sleep.

At all.

You stare at the ceiling. Then at the nightstand. Then at the outline of Lando’s face in the dark, just barely visible from the glow of your phone charger.

He’s still. Breathing slow. Definitely asleep.

And you’re… not.

Because — and this is ridiculous, so ridiculous — you can’t fall asleep unless you’re hugging something.

A pillow. A blanket. A stuffed animal. A person. Doesn’t matter. Your body just doesn’t shut off unless your arms are around something.

You try. You flip the pillow over. You bury your arms under it. You wrap the blanket tighter around yourself.

Nothing.

You’re one hour in when the whisper comes.

“Are you… okay?”

You flinch. “Jesus—you’re awake?”

Lando turns onto his side, blinking slowly. “You’ve been breathing like you’re trying to inflate a bouncy castle.”

You bury your face in your pillow. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why?”

You hesitate.

“Y/N.”

You groan. “It’s stupid.”

His voice lifts with amusement. “Now I definitely need to know.”

You sigh, dramatic. “I can’t fall asleep unless I’m hugging something, okay?”

Silence.

Then—

A loud, stifled laugh from the other side of the bed.

“Oh my god,” he chokes, “you’re like a human koala.”

You smack him with your pillow. “Shut up.”

“No, no, this is adorable. Do you need, like, a teddy bear? A weighted blanket? Should I draw a face on one of your pillows and pretend it’s me?”

“You’re the worst.”

He’s laughing, full and unfiltered now, twisting the sheets as he rolls away dramatically. “Y/N, my heart. All this time I thought you just liked cuddling me during movie nights, but you actually have a condition.”

You throw your hands over your face. “Please stop talking.”

Then—softly, after a pause—his voice shifts.

“…You could’ve just said something.”

You peek through your fingers. He’s looking at you now. Still teasing, but softer. Gentle.

“Wanna hug me?” he asks, cocking a brow like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Your breath catches. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he says, already sliding an arm out, inviting. “C’mon, koala girl.”

You glare. “If you call me that again, I’ll smother you with this pillow.”

He grins. “I’ll take the risk.”

You hesitate. Just for a second. Then you scoot closer, cautiously curling against his side, arm draping lightly across his chest.

And god — it’s perfect. His body is warm, steady, and somehow smells like mint and laundry detergent. Your muscles sigh in relief.

“You’re like a human radiator,” you murmur.

He chuckles, voice close to your ear. “You’re welcome.”

You fall asleep faster than you have in weeks.

And the next morning, you wake up still tangled in him — his arm heavy around your waist, face buried in your hair, breath soft on your neck.

You try to move.

“Don’t,” he mumbles, still half-asleep. “I’m your pillow now. Deal with it.”

And you kind of… do.

⸻

Sunlight spills through the half-closed blinds, catching dust motes in golden streaks as the room slowly warms with morning.

You’re awake.

Barely.

And very aware that you’re not alone in your bed.

Lando’s arm is still wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm and not even a little bit apologetic about being all up in your space. His chest rises and falls steadily against your back, his breath slow and even — he’s still asleep, or close to it.

You consider moving.

Really, you do.

But your limbs are lazy, your brain soft and sleepy, and honestly? He’s comfortable. Too comfortable. Like he was made to be a human-sized heating pad designed to be clung to.

His fingers twitch slightly at your hip.

You freeze.

“…You’re awake, aren’t you?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough with sleep.

You sigh. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t move. Just hums. “Told you. Human pillow.”

You can hear the smugness in his voice, even through the sleep.

“I was desperate,” you mumble.

“Sure you were.” He yawns. “Could’ve hugged a pillow, but nooo. You went straight for me.”

You elbow him gently. “I tried the pillow.”

He just pulls you closer. “Mhm. Addicted now. No turning back.”

Your cheeks flush — and not just from the proximity.

You should pull away. You should. Friends don’t… do this. Or at least, you and Lando never have. You’ve always tiptoed the edge of this kind of closeness — flirty jokes, knee touches during movies, that weird moment last Christmas when you almost kissed but blamed it on mistletoe and wine.

But this?

This feels like something else.

You twist slightly to face him, only to find his eyes open, heavy-lidded and watching you.

“What?” you whisper.

He shrugs, smile lazy and lopsided. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

A pause.

Then, softly: “About how I could get used to waking up like this.”

Your heart stops. Completely.

He sees it. Feels it, probably. Because his smile shifts — less teasing, more vulnerable. More real.

“I’m not just saying that ‘cause you’re warm,” he adds.

You blink, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

“Lando…”

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to say anything. I just— I think maybe this whole human pillow situation works both ways.”

Your fingers tighten in the sleeve of his t-shirt.

And just like that, the teasing melts away. The barrier between best friends and something else thins, bends, and threatens to break entirely.

“I liked waking up with you,” you admit, voice small.

He smiles again — that quiet, soft smile that doesn’t belong in interviews or podium photos. This one’s just for you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you move.

Not yet.

Because the line is still there, but now you’re both standing on the same side of it.

⸻

You eventually untangle from each other.

Sort of.

By which you mean Lando finally rolls away only to immediately steal your pillow, shove it under his head like it betrayed him, and mumble something about needing a ten-minute nap before coffee.

So you leave him there — hair messy, half-asleep, wearing your hoodie like it’s always belonged to him — and shuffle into the kitchen.

Your legs feel weird. Your chest feels… floaty.

You touch your lips once when you’re sure he’s not looking.

Nothing happened. Not really.

But it almost did.

And it’s enough to change everything.

⸻

You’re halfway through cracking eggs into a pan when you hear the soft shuffle of feet.

Lando appears in the doorway, stretching with a sleepy groan, his hair a disaster and his eyes still heavy with sleep.

He looks like a dream you forgot you had. Like something that’s always been yours but never belonged to you.

“You’re cooking?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

You shrug. “Seemed fair. You donated your body to science last night.”

He smirks as he comes up behind you, not even pretending to keep distance. He leans over your shoulder, chin nearly brushing your temple.

“That was a very important cuddle study,” he says into your ear, voice low and teasing. “Purely scientific.”

You fight a shiver. “Well, congratulations. You’re now certified as a human-size emotional support plushie.”

He chuckles, arms brushing yours as he helps you reach for the salt.

Silence falls. The soft sizzle of eggs fills the space. His presence is everywhere — beside you, behind you, in you — and it’s like neither of you know where to put all the things you want to say.

Then—softly, like it escapes without permission:

“You meant it last night?”

You turn your head slightly. “Which part?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps gently stirring the eggs. “That you liked waking up next to me.”

You hesitate. Then: “Yeah. I did.”

A beat passes.

He nods, silent, and grabs a plate. You watch him.

He places a serving of eggs onto the plate and hands it to you without meeting your eyes. “Me too.”

Your fingers brush when you take it. Neither of you pull away.

He finally looks up.

And there’s that moment again — the one that feels like you’re both standing at the edge of something huge. Something terrifying and beautiful.

“Lando…” you start.

But the words don’t come.

Because part of you is still afraid. Of ruining what you have. Of hoping too much. Of the way your heart has never felt this calm around anyone else.

He sees all of it. You know he does.

So he just smiles, soft and sure.

And says, “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

⸻

You eat breakfast shoulder to shoulder.

There are no declarations. No kisses.

But there’s a shared mug of coffee between you.

A soft look that lingers longer than it should.

And when he picks up your extra pillow later — the one you clung to for years before last night — and tosses it to the corner of the bed with a smirk, all he says is:

“You won’t need that anymore.”

⸻

You’re not sure why Lando doesn’t leave that night.

He doesn’t say he’s staying.

He just… doesn’t go.

You wash dishes together after dinner like it’s routine, like he’s done it a hundred times — and honestly, maybe he has. He scrolls through Netflix while you wipe down the kitchen counters, making dramatic sounds of disapproval at your movie suggestions. He disappears into your room at one point and comes back wearing one of your oversized sweatshirts like it’s his.

No mention of going home. No keys. No shoes. Just… him. Staying.

Again.

By the time you brush your teeth side by side — like you did last night, like it’s just what you do now — there’s a low buzz in the air. That awareness. That heaviness. Like the next thing might tip the whole thing into something neither of you can come back from.

You’re quiet as you climb into bed.

So is he.

The blanket settles over the both of you, and your hearts race a little too loud for a room that’s supposed to be quiet.

Then, softly—

“D’you still need something to hug?”

You let out a soft breath. “Yeah.”

He turns toward you in the dark. “Okay. C’mere.”

You hesitate only for a second this time.

You move closer. Not just tangled up like last time, but facing each other. His arm slides around your waist like muscle memory. Your hand finds the soft fabric of his sweatshirt near his chest.

You fit.

Better than you should.

You’re not even pretending to sleep yet when he whispers, “I didn’t leave because I wanted to stay.”

You blink slowly. “I know.”

���And I didn’t stay just because of you needing a pillow.”

You smile faintly. “I know that too.”

A beat.

He breathes in. “I don’t want this to be a thing we don’t talk about.”

Your heart flips. “Me either.”

“I don’t really know when it started,” he continues, voice low, “but I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now. It just always felt like… if I did, I might mess it up.”

Your hand curls into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “You wouldn’t.”

He moves closer.

You feel his breath against your skin, soft and cautious. One hand lifts to your cheek like he’s checking to see if you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

“You sure?” he whispers.

You nod.

And he kisses you.

It’s not rushed.

It’s not perfect, either — his nose bumps yours, your hand fumbles awkwardly as you find his jaw — but it’s real. It’s warm. And it means something.

You can feel it in the way his fingers tighten on your waist. In the soft sigh you let out against his mouth. In the quiet, trembling kind of relief that settles between you once you both pull back.

You stay close.

Foreheads pressed. Noses barely brushing.

You could say something. Make a joke. Ask what this means.

But you don’t.

Because he’s already whispering, “Okay. I’m definitely your pillow now.”

And all you can do is laugh — quietly, into the space between your mouths — before tugging him back down and whispering,

“Yeah. Mine.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader and Sanemi going from hating to marrying each other + meeting up with the Kamado family post infinity castle

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Synopsis: Gosh, you hated that guy. Just the way the wind hashira talked to you pushed you over the edge far too often. Little did you know that you'll feel different about that hot-tempered man after everything is over, that you'll find yourself convincing your husband to meet the Kamado family...

Warnings: THIS IS SPOILER FREE Y'ALL, I wrote this without ANY spoilers in it, so none of the outcome is what actually happens in the manga like that (I actually aim for a spoiler-free blog so anime onlys don't have to worry, death of basically every other hashira, language, angst to fluff

Special thanks to cutie patootie @effetsecndaires for that super cute suggestion 🤍

„Me and that guy?“

„Yeah, there’s ain’t no way I’m working with that spoiled brat-„

„Who are you to call me spoiled, you prick-“

“Did you just call me prick you little-“

“Can you two just stop?”, Giyu mumbles under his breath, all pairs on eyes set on you and the wind hashira who is only inches away from your face by know.

God, how much you hate that guy. Since the first time you saw him beating up a bunch of innocent demon slayer to now where you literally feel his urge to slap you right into your face, you can’t stand him. Out of all skilled demon slayers, why does it have to be him? How did he even achieve the status of a pillar in the first place?

“Stay the hell out of it, Tomioka”, Sanemi barks at the water hashira in an instant.

“Stop acting like a jerk. Don’t you get that nobody will ever like you if you treat them like that!?”

“Not liking me? Look at you, (y/n). You’re a total loser.”

“Take that back right now!”

“That’s enough, stop already”, Gyomei finally speaks out.

Oh, you couldn’t care less about the stone hashira lifting himself off the ground or the thick tension that fills the air. Out of instinct, you yank towards, your fist aiming straight for his face. That little fucker will pay for every single insult, for every time he put you down-

“I said enough, (y/n).”

“Let go of me!”, you cry out when Gyomei catches you mid-air.

“You heard him, (y/n). Enough is enough”, Sanemi jeers at you with a slight grin.

Oh, how much you would have given to get teased by Sanemi Shinazugawa like that one last time. How desperately you wish you could turn back time to see all their faces again. When all of you arrived within the infinity castle, you knew you might not make it out alive, that some of your beloved friends will eventually never find their way out.

“Sanemi!”, you cried into the countless chambers around you, eyes aimlessly searching for the man your eyes locked with just seconds ago.

“(y/n)!”, he shouted from afar.

Where is he? Is he safe? What if you’ll never see him again? You swallowed hard, desperately trying to stop your dumb eyes from watering. What if…you’ll never see Sanemi again?

“Where are you?”

“Don’t you dare to die on me here!”, he yelled on top of his lungs.

Before eventually, he stopped replying.  Before you faced countless demons on your own, all at once.

You would have never imagined that those crazy eyes you hated so much since joining the chosen circle of hashira would be the ones you’ll see last before your lifeless body collapses onto the floor.

“No, you can’t leave me like that. Not you too, (y/n). Get yourself together and fight!”, he hissed through gritted teeth while grabbing your body tightly.

“S…Sanemi?”

What a relief it was to fall asleep in his muscular arms.

And what a surprise it was to wake up with him by your side again.

“I’m so tired”, you mumbled before being able to even think straight.

Everything hurt. From your little toe to your shoulder, over your torso and your crushed leg. It feels like you just returned from a trip to hell.

“You’re awake.”

Don’t so familiar voice that suddenly sounds so soft and broken, that maniac orbs that suddenly turned…hurt. Is Sanemi Shinazugawa crying?

“Are you okay?”, you croaked.

What about the others? Are they safe? Did you make it? What about Muzan, the upper moons, Tanjiro and his sister? Your brain threatens to give him, a breathtaking wave of nausea close to hit you with full force.

“Dumbass, look at yourself first. Are you okay?”

Gently, he caressed your cheek with his bruised knuckles, forcing your heart to skip a beat. Is this really the Sanemi Shinazugawa you know and hate?

Hate?

You furrow your eyebrows. Did you really hate him those past few weeks when you sat together after training past after midnight? Did you really hate him when fighting against those demons, when he was all you were able to think about? When on earth did you start un-hating him?

“I’m fine…But…the others?”

Just the way he shakes his head in defeat is enough for you to know. You swallow hard. All the people you loved…Mitsuri who always braided your hair, Shinobu always stitched you up after another fight with Sanemi, Giyu who always scolded you for acting out like that. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Gyomei, Obanai, Muichiro…Are all of them gone?

Suddenly you fail to breathe. Your friends, your found-family.

Everything’s gone.

“Hey, don’t panic.”

Did they suffer? How many people were forced to die in that senseless war?

“Look at me, (y/n).”

You can’t catch your breath, shaky hands clinging onto Sanemi’s sleeve for what feels like dear life.

“(y/n).”

He grabs your face with both of his hands. And all of the sudden, everything around you starts to get calm.

“It will be alright. Not today, not even tomorrow or next week. But we’ll get through this together.”

“I hate you”, you breathe out while getting lost in the new-found peace his eyes radiate.

“I hate you too”, he mumbles.

Why do his lips suddenly look so inviting, roaming closer and closer? Why do you enjoy the way he holds your face in place with his rough hands, how he stares at you in distress?

But there’s something apart from distress, a new-found feeling you’ve never seen before.

“More than anything else”, you add.

“Absolutely, yes.”

And then his lips crash into yours. Longingly, almost desperate Sanemi Shinazugawa kisses you with every fiber of his being, allows his body to finally give him. He never allowed himself a single positive thought when it came to you, always hated every minor thing you did. Until the infinity castle made him realize what he truly feels for you, that he needs to catch a taste of your forward lips before it is too late.

That was exactly one year ago.

“What’s on your mind again?”, Sanemi mumbles into your hair while staring into the sunset and holding you tight.

“Oh, I was just thinking about how much you hated me back then”, you chuckle.

What a relief it is. Being able to watch the sunset without fearing the night. Being able so live another day with your husband by your side.

Your husband, Sanemi Shinazugawa.

“I wonder what they would think, seeing us like that”, Sanemi comments dryly.

“Oh, they wouldn’t believe us.”

“Absolutely not, nah.”

“But I bet they’d be proud, right? I’m sure it’s fine that we’re doing okay…”

“You’re talking nonsense again, (y/n). Why would they ever be mad at us for living our lives?”

“Because they couldn’t.”

You swallow the lump that forms itself deep in your throat down. Not a single day went by without you thinking about your comrades. How they always had to keep the two of you separated, how much fun you’ve had despite the circumstances.

But now, there’s only you and Sanemi left. And Tanjiro Kamado.

“I think we should pay the Kamado family a visit”, you add before thinking about it any further.

To this day, Sanemi refused to meet up with Tanjiro and his sister. Maybe because he still hates the boy with the scar, maybe because seeing Tanjiro means being confronted with his past all over again. Over and over, you begged him to go, to make sure both of them are doing alright.

“Didn’t I say no 100 times already?”, Sanemi grumbles behind you.

“Well, you said you hate me at least 100 times as well and still, I’m here”, you bite back.

Sanemi shifts his weight, his muscles tense behind your back. You know too well that this isn’t easy for him, that seeing Tanjiro means getting confronted with a part of his past he’s so eager to forget. But the Kamado family never gave up their hope, always keeps their doors open if Sanemi does decide on meeting them someday.

“That’s not the same, idiot.”

“Sanemi.”

You turn around and cup his face gently with both hands.

“Maybe you should pay him a visit. We didn’t see him in a long time.”

“Why would I care though? It’s not like I liked that kid at one point”, he barks back at you.

You let out your breath. Despite the fact that infinity castle made both of you softer, Sanemi still didn’t lose his stubbornness and attitude. Well, so did you.

“You wanna act like an asshole? Go ahead, then. I’ll leave tomorrow morning, with or without you.”

Without another word, you get up and make your way back into the house. How frustrating living with him can be. But still…The past is scarry, maybe even too much too bear. After today, you won’t speak up about visiting the Kamado family again.

-the next day-

“Nezuko!”

She doesn’t hear you. The girl with the wavy black hair tied into a knot, her tender eyes focused on the garden in front of her feet. How breathtakingly gorgeous she is, a true beauty just like back then.

“Nezuko!”, you cry out again, waving at her like an idiot.

Back then, she saved your life by almost sacrificing her own. Even though you weren’t as kind as the other hashiras, the Kamado family always stood by your side and believed in you. Seeing her so unbothered and happy forces a wave of tears up your eyes, makes your vision go foggy.

Thanks to your comrades, all of this is over now.

“(y/n)!”, the girl finally greets you while mindlessly dropping her sickle and dashing towards you.

“(y/n), is it really you? I can’t believe it!”, Nezuko breathes out.

“Yeah, the original”, you giggle.

She still wears the same patterns she did back then. But her eyes, they look so different. Nezuko really is fully human again. You can’t stop a single tear rolling down your eyes. And all of this, only due to the sacrifice of your friends.

“No, don’t you cry, (y/n)! Not when both of us should be happy”, Nezuko croaks out, a thin coat of tears now covering her very own eyes.

“Those are happy tears. I’m so sorry for not visiting you sooner, it’s just…”

Yes, what is it? Did you hesitate because Sanemi wasn’t ready, because he refused over and over to accompany you? No, you yourself needed that time to heal, to get over all the terror and suffering you’ve been through.

“You don’t have to apologize at all. After all, Tanjiro and I needed some time to adjust to this new life as well. Do you mind me asking how Shinazugawa-sama is?”

“Sanemi? He’s doing okay. But he isn’t ready yet…”

“Of course, I get that! But there’s no need to rush, right? After all, we now have plenty of time left”, Nezuko replies with that oh so gentle grin plastered onto her face.

“(y/n), is that you?”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh, you’d recognize that voice from everywhere with its unwavering optimism and tender undertones.

“Long time no see, Kamado Tanjiro.”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself embraced into a tight hug, surrounded by nothing but the signature ichimatsu pattern that burned itself into your brain.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry for casually hugging you like this, (y/n)-sama!”, he adds in a haste, quickly letting go of you and bowing.

“I’m not a hashira anymore, Tanjiro. And both of us are equal. Well, now that I think of it, I should be the one who bows in front of you”, you contradict jokingly.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again! How are you?”

“I’m doing alright. Sanemi and I, we worked quite hard to renovate his estate after what happened. These past few months, we enjoyed watching the sunsets for the very first time in ages”, you explain briefly.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard that the two of you married. It makes me beyond happy you found your luck, (y/n).”

“Don’t you dare making my wife cry, brat.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat instantly picking up. You’d recognize that voice out of a thousand people. When you turn around, you get greeted by the annoyed expression of none other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Did he follow you? When did he decide on meeting the Kamado’s? You’ve been bugging him for ages, almost begging him to pay Tanjiro and Nezuko a visit.

And now he stands there, arms casually crossed in front of his chest.

“Shinazugawa-sama, what a honor-“

“Spare me with that bullshit”, Sanemi interrupts the boy immediately.

“Just tell me how you’re doing.”

Oh. Your eyes threaten to overfill with joy all over again, Sanemi’s arm now wrapped around your waist tightly. Just 2 years ago, you didn’t even think about the possibility to even like Sanemi, to look after the Kamado’s.

But this is your life now. Your oh so sweet life.

“You might have been right. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all”, Sanemi whispers into your ear.

“So, does that mean you finally don’t hate me anymore.”

“That’s a bit out of line, Kamado. You’re still a brat, after all.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[kxsagi]

May I request first time w bllk boys of your choice, but instead of it being steamy, it ends up being comic relief because for some reason the men can't put it in so the night just went on with gf!reader laughing her ass off and bf!bllk men having existential crisis😼 ignore this if you're uncomfortable! I love your works btw!:3 have a great day/night!

“𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧: 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲”

a/n: this was definitely the most suggestive thing i've written so far but it was too funny to not write LMAO

thank you so much and have a great day/night as well!

suggestive and mature content below! all aged-up characters! (MDNI, by choosing to interact, it is your choice despite the warning)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

bro was so determined to win at losing his virginity. he was mentally prepping like it was a soccer match. 

“okay. breathe. visualize. go slow.” 

but the moment he tries to slide it in, he misses. three times. 

you’re trying not to laugh but he looks like a confused puppy with a furrowed brow and everything. 

“wait, i swear i aimed right.” 

“baby you’re not shooting a goal, this is not penalty kicks.” 

he spirals. his entire ego deflates. his internal monologue is screaming: how did i miss the goal this bad, am i even the main character anymore??? 

you’re just curled up in bed laughing while he sits at the edge with a blanket over his lap, muttering, “i need to train more…” 

itoshi rin

he was so serious about it. didn’t speak more than five words the whole time. 

but then. the moment of truth. and it just… 

boink (LMAO). he misaligned. 

“rin, that’s my thigh.” 

“shut up. i know.” 

tries again. ends up poking your belly button. 

“are you aiming by echolocation?” 

cue you dissolving into laughter while rin’s soul leaves his body. 

he gets all broody and dramatic like, “this is why i hate people. and romance. and life.” 

you pat his hair and go, “better luck next time, sniper.” 

nagi seishiro

he was so chill about it at first. like, “yeah. sex. sounds tiring, but okay.” 

except it turns out getting it in requires more effort than he thought. 

he’s just kind of poking around lazily like he’s half-asleep. 

“is this… the right angle?” 

“sei. that’s my hipbone.” 

he lays down in defeat like he just died in a video game. “ugh. i give up. let’s just cuddle.” 

and you’re crying laughing while he burritos himself in the blanket and says, “this is why i stick to games.” 

mikage reo

oh he thought he had it in the bag. mr. smooth rich boy. 

candles lit. music playing. rose petals on the bed. 

then cue 5 straight minutes of struggling. 

you: “babe, you okay?” 

reo: sweating bullets, whispering “i can’t find the entrance.” 

you: “it’s not a bank vault, reo.” 

poor boy looks so offended. “i’ve studied diagrams! i watched tutorials!” 

you’re cackling while he’s looking at the wall like it betrayed him. 

“this is not how it was supposed to go… my legacy…”

kaiser michael

listen. this man walked in like he was god’s gift to earth. said some cheesy german line like “tonight, i make you scream.” 

0 for 1 on that promise. 

because for the life of him, he can’t get the angle right. 

tries. fails. tries again. misses again. 

“i swear this never happens.” 

“you sound like a sitcom punchline.” 

and then you wheeze-laugh so hard you fall off the bed. 

kaiser just lies there dramatically like an oil painting, one arm draped over his forehead. “i’ve been humbled.” 

will not stop bringing it up later. “remember that time my genius was too much for your mortal body to handle?” 

you: “you poked my knee.” 

him: “semantics.” 

shidou ryusei

bro walked in already unhinged. 

smirking like a menace. said “i’m gonna blow your back out” with way too much confidence. 

cut to five minutes later: he’s on his knees, staring at your thighs like they’re a puzzle. 

“where the hell is it? is this a trap?” 

“shidou. shidou. that’s my armpit.” 

“oh. well you were twisted weird!” 

you’re crying from laughing. this man was so loud and proud only to fumble like a rookie. 

suddenly goes quiet. shidou. quiet. 

stares at the wall like he saw god. 

“maybe this is the universe humbling me…” 

you: “finally.” 

him: “shut the hell up, you’re laughing like a hyena. i’m in mourning.” 

karasu tabito

okay so karasu definitely talked a big game beforehand. 

super smug like “you won’t be able to walk after this.” 

tried to take the lead. acted confident. 

then proceeded to line himself up completely wrong. 

you’re like, “tabi. that’s not it.” 

he freezes. “you sure? feels right.” 

“no. no it doesn’t.” 

looks down. stares in betrayal. “oh… oh.” 

you start laughing and cannot stop. 

he lays on his back dramatically like he just got shot. 

“i used to have pride. i used to have a future.” 

you’re snorting, tears in your eyes while he covers himself with a pillow and mutters “don’t talk to me. i’m in my flop era.” 

itoshi sae

sae genuinely thought he was above this. like… this was supposed to be effortless. 

gave you a look like “i got this.” 

spoiler: he did not. 

tries to guide himself in and hits… air. 

tries again. pokes the mattress. 

you: “… are you okay?” 

him: “this is… frustrating.” 

you start giggling. he’s deadpan. 

“don’t laugh.” 

you: “but you’re so SERIOUS. it’s like watching someone try to parallel park and give up.” 

he sighs, rolls off you, and just stares at the ceiling like it offended him. 

“sex is stupid. i’m going to sleep.” 

you’re still laughing while he tucks himself in like a burrito, mumbling “this is why i focus on football.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[kurooh]

OOO OMG I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRTIE FOR DENKI, but if you do, could we PLEASE get some morning wood action. im talking denki wakes up and its full shaft bro. he either grinds into you, or jerks off cause ur away, creative freedom! 😇 LMAKDOAOAA okay im leaving now

⊹₊˚. SNOOZE ! — mornings with kaminari denki

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, gn! reader, consensual somnophilia, grinding, light fluff, pet names.

xoxo, juno: nonnie come back 😭 this is like a month late ahhhh, i hope you see this

“babyyy, you just look so good,” denki murmurs into the slope of your shoulder, voice sleepy and soft. “it’s too early to be losing my mind right now.”

engrossed in your dream, you let out a sigh and barely shift against him. he thinks your quiet snores and even breaths are so cute, but his palm coasts down your side and lands on your hip. it’s late enough for the sounds of the morning rush to have passed already, but too early to get out of bed just yet.

denki probably couldn’t even get out of bed in this condition, though—neglected and heavy, his cock is as hard as a steel flagpole between his legs. it’s just so sensitive this morning that he’s too aware of the precum bubbling at the tip and the extra heartbeat that can’t seem to stop increasing.

he experimentally tickles your stomach with his fingers, light as the brush of a feather—and you shift again, pressing your ass into him before moving away. it’s only a simple touch, the kind that would ordinarily do everything but make him sick to his stomach with desire, but denki chokes out a gasp.

“if you just—if you knew,” he says dumbly, curling his fingers into your hip and pressing his crotch into your ass, “how easy it is for you to make me crazy. i never used to be this hard when i woke up, but you fucking—ooh, you changed me.”

truthfully, denki doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s saying.

he’s still half asleep and just disoriented from such a rush of testosterone through his body, but he still feels the need to talk to you. it’s difficult to understand what’s coming out of his own mouth with the way all of his brain cells are exploding with bliss—in an attempt to keep himself grounded, he nibbles at your shoulder and tucks his nose into your skin.

of course, this does nothing but make the friction on his cock feel even better. your natural smell mixed with faint traces of your soap makes him nothing short of feral.

“babe, babyyy,” denki cries, fingers digging into your skin as he humps your ass more desperately, “‘m no good at talking, really. that’s your job—haa, shit—i know it’s not good to assign jobs during sex unless it’s for a blowjob, but it’s your thing! i don’t even know how you don’t get confused in the middle of it, but that’s why it’s your thing, i—fuck!”

denki knows he’s absolutely done for when he feels that familiar tightness taking root in his balls. your ass is just so perfect, so plump and perky and wonderful to get off on. it’s good, so damn good, and the relief that washes over him in warm waves with every stroke is even better—denki’s gonna cum, and he’s gonna cum hard.

stray tears fall down his cheeks as it occurs to him, just how fucking filthy he’s being—so desperate, all for you and only for you. denki’s actually about to cum, and he just needs one final push to successfully make it over the edge. although he’s hazy with so much lust that it’s excruciating, he does notice the intentional press of your ass against him.

you’re awake, and you’re helping him out. oh god, you’re even whispering sweet, sleepy nothings to him to encourage him to cum—denki squeezes his wet eyes shut and emits a whine so loud it may not even be considered human.

“oh fuck, oh fuck,” denki’s sobbing now, fingernails digging into your skin as if you’ll fade away like a dream, “gonna cum, baby—ugh, you feel so fucking good—can’t hold it..”

with one final rut of his hips into your ass, denki cums. a series of shudders rock his whole body and leave his hands shaking uncontrollably, until you envelop them in your own to calm him. spent and too weak to get up and change his soaked boxers, denki curls into your side, still coming down from his hysteric euphoria.

“sorry i . . made a mess,” he heaves out, chest working hard to breathe, “i’ll clean it up.”

an easy laugh slips out of you as you fully turn to cuddle him. “you better. anyway, would now be the right time to ask what the hell got into you?”

he’s falling asleep again. “it’s always you. like, just seeing you beside me when i wake up—i can’t.”

“denki, i think it’s time to get up. alarm’s going off in less than five minutes.”

“don’t care,” he huffs, pulling you in with the last of his strength before you can pull away. “if you stay, i’ll make it worth your while when i can feel my legs again. they’re numb.”

“okay, but what does that have to do with—”

denki clears his throat and peels an eye open. “silent snuggling time. just snooze the alarm and relax with me, babe.”

[yanderenightmare]

Reo Mikage & Nagi Seishiro

♡ TW: nsfw, doubt, misunderstanding

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about how, drunk one night after partying with some of your boyfriend Reo’s teammates and watching him and Nagi sing one too many karaoke songs in each other’s arms, you make a dumb joke about how if they wanted to fuck, you’d be down to watch.

He doesn’t answer, and your eyes are already closed, ready to fall asleep, so you don’t see the look he gives you—peeled eyes already picturing it.

You think nothing of it when he rolls over you a few moments later, feeling hornier than usual. You’re too drunk and tired to put much effort back into it, but Reo doesn’t seem to mind—holding you close while panting at your ear, being clingier than usual. You just blame it on the drink.

Nagi’s Reo’s best friend and roommate, so it’s not strange for them to be close. Nor is it strange for the three of you to hang out, either. It’s just… somehow, the vibe feels a little weird after that night. You’re not sure why, but every time you come over, it’s as if there’s this expectation in the air, as if they’re waiting for something.

The three of you are drinking one night not long after. And that odd feeling you’d been feeling lately quickly disappears along with the first few cans of beer. Everything feels normal. The three of you watch a movie, talk a bit, and have a few laughs, and after switching to something stronger, you all end up sitting on the floor, passing the last of the bottle around like college kids. Good ol’ times.

And then Nagi kisses you.

“What the fuck?”

You jolt back, and the empty bottle rolls across the floor.

There’s a standstill as you ask yourself what just happened, believing the question is more than clearly expressed on your face. But, instead of apologizing or explaining himself, Nagi just looks at Reo, causing you to look at him as well. And that strange feeling reappears—the one that tells you there’s something you’re missing.

“What’s going on?” you decide to break the silence since neither of them was bothering to clue you in, keeping your eyes trained on Reo, giving him a glare, demanding he explain himself.

His voice is low, a little embarrassed perhaps, and a little suggestive in the way he speaks as if hoping you’d take his meaning without further clarification, “You said you wouldn’t mind if Seishi joined us...” 

It completely stunts you, head entirely blank for a second or a few until it settles, and you backtrack to that night a week ago. 

“What?” You shake your head with an off-put and perplexed grimace. “That was a joke!”

You sit there then, feeling weird all over—seeing only one conclusion after wracking your brain.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim and get up in a hurry. “I can’t believe this—if the two of you want to fuck, get your butts out of the closet and do it already!” You storm off, flushed and mortified beyond repair, muttering loudly, “Can’t believe you’re dragging me into this. I’m going home. Never call me.”

You’re stopped before you get very far. Reo’s hand around your upper arm is not too hard but enough to make you halt despite your determined stomping. Needing to get out of there quick before the tears could come—you can’t believe you’ve been someone's beard all this time. Can’t believe he’d string you along like this, use you, and you actually thought you loved–

“You got it all wrong,” he insists, pulling you back to look at him. “It’s not Seishi and me.”

“I mean, how would we? We’re both tops,” Nagi adds, only a step behind.

You bite your lip. So confused you’re sputtering when you ask, “What then? So, you want a threesome? Is that what this is about?”

Reo laughs nervously—something he never does—saying, “Not exactly...” 

You can’t say he’s being of much help. “Then what?”

“Y’know…” 

He’s blushing profusely in a manner you’ve never before seen. 

He can’t even look at you as he bows down and whispers in your ear,  “I want to watch.”

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[dexxtrosee]

In the middle of the night

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

TW: mentions of canon violent mass event, panic attack.

He doesn’t talk to you about it.

Days pass and pass, and then they turn into weeks. More patients come, more patients die, more patients live. Jake doesn’t talk to him, Leah's parents invite him to the funeral. Still, he doesn’t tell you about any of it, aside from shaking his head when you ask when Jake's coming over again. It was on the news, he's not stupid enough to think you have no clue about what he went through, you just don't know how bad it was.

You don’t know any of it from his own mouth, and still, it bothers him when you don’t seem even slightly surprised every time he wakes you up with his nightmares and his crying. You just let him hide his face on your neck, let him clutch your body against his while the sobs wreck him. You push his hair back, kiss his forehead, wait until he's calm enough to manhandle him back to lying down. He falls asleep to your fingers tracing the lines of his face more often than not.

One particularly bad night, he manages to wake himself up in silence, petrified. You don’t seem to notice at first, breath soft and slow, still sleeping. He can’t move, can’t make a single sound. His chest feels tight, his head is drowning in screams and sobs and people telling him he's not good enough.

The bed feels too soft, his shirt is choking him. Why couldn't he save them? Why is he even fucking trying? Fuck, he can't breathe. Adamson died on his watch, he made him suffer through a horrible, long death because he couldn't let go. And everyone had to watch him do it again with Leah, cling to an impossible task while docens of people needed him and she was already fucking dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Robby. Hey, Robby, look at me. Open your eyes love, come on."

Your voice makes him jump. He realizes for the first time he's hyperventilating now, squeezing his eyes shut.

God, he feels pathetic for putting you through this again and again. You're gonna end up leaving him, he's sure. He's too much and too little at the same time, more baggage than man. He can’t keep doing this to you, he can't, he can't he can't-

"Robby, open your eyes."

He feels you grab his arms and pull him into a sitting position. His entire body breaks into shivers, his heart trying its best to burst out of his chest.

"Robby, open your eyes."

When he finally does, he doesn’t like the concern plastered over your features. He pushes you away slightly, bending to the side.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick."

You don’t seem to listen to him, instead jumping over the blankets until you're kneeling by his side. You push his head back with the heel of your hand, and he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t think he can handle your worry right now.

A balloon stretches inside his throat. His hands fly to clutch at his neck, but your hand grips them both and pushes them down until they're pressed against his legs. You're seeing right through him, right into all the things he's tried hiding from you ever since he met you.

He doesn’t want it to reach you.

"Robby, I think my lip is bleeding. Can you take a look at it?"

Your question freezes him on the spot. Did he accidentally hit you? Oh fuck, fuck-

"I bit my lip too hard earlier today, I was sewing up my green sweater and got lost in my head. It's the one you gave me, remember? The knitted one."

Robby frowns, squeezing your hand tighter. The green one? The one he got in Philly after your third date?

"The one you say feels too rough unles you're wearing it."

Ah, Robby remembers that one. It felt itchy, he asked about it when he gave it to you and you put it on right there. Then you had shaken your head and smiled, telling him it was softer on the inside.

"Open your eyes, babe."

Slowly, he does. You're bent in front of him, and there's a small speck of blood close to the edge of your mouth.

He raises his hand, cleaning it up with shaky fingers. It doesn’t really help, just spreads it over your lower lip and paints it a faint red. It makes him chuckle, but the sound resembles an animal in agony.

Out of nowhere, he feels something cold and metallic press against his neck. He gasps, unintentionally pulling you closer.

You let him. You shuffle closer until you're kneeling between his legs, and he wraps his arms around you. His face is wet, his entire body feels weak, made of paper.

"Where did you even get that sweater from? You may need to buy me a new one if I can’t save this one."

It was a local, old shop. The owner was an older man, running the store on his own, if he had to guess. Full of old furniture, the kind that lasts generations.

"I-I can try and h-help you mend it."

Your chest shakes slightly against his, laughing. He buries his head on your shoulder. "Sure you can, doc."

Minutes pass. Your hand tangles inside his hair, the other caressing his back up and down. Your warmth seeps into his clothes, his body, relaxing it until he feels he can barely stay upright.

You kiss his cheek, his temble, his shoulder. He can’t really help it when he bursts into tears.

"Take a deep breath, it’s okay. I'm right here."

His sobs rock the entire bed. He wishes he could hug you close enough to merge his soul with yours.

"It's okay love, you can let it out."

In the middle of the night, with the other half of his soul wrapped around his, he finally does.

[marauder-misprint]

Chaperone

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

2.5k words

cw: smoking, drinking, fluff

You’re laying on the couch with your feet in Regulus’ lap while he reads. You are resting your eyes, but you swear you aren’t falling asleep. There isn’t much going on in the Slytherin Common Room. At least there isn’t until Dorcas is leaning over the back of the couch right above your face. She reaches down and pokes your cheek.

“Go away,” you grumble, turning onto your side. 

“You’ve been selected to come to Gryffindor with me!” Dorcas sings excitedly.

“I just went! Take Dory. Take Evan. Take Barty. Avery, Wilkes, Mulicber won’t go… Snape! He won’t need much convincing when you tell him Lily will be there!” 

“Ugh. Black, you want to go?” Dorcas asks Regulus, who doesn’t look up from his book. She’s still leaning over the couch.

“Quality time with brother dearest? I’ll pass, Meadowes,” he says, not looking up from his book. His book is resting more firmly on your feet so you know he’s at least listening to your conversation with some interest. 

“Which brings me back to you, lovely. Plus, you’ve been requested.”

You roll back onto your back and stare up at her.

“I’ve been requested? Who?”

“The Gryffindors? I don’t know. Marls didn’t specify.”

You glare up at her.

“Come up! Up you get! You’re changing and going!”

She grabs your hands and pulls you into sitting up. You groan. 

“Fine… But you owe me.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, you have changed into jeans and a simple black t-shirt and are following Dorcas out of the Slytherin Common Room. 

“Why do you still need an escort anyways? I think all of the Gryffindors know you are seeing Marlene,” you ask after a mostly silent walk.

“Less awkward than walking in alone,” she says. “God forbid I try to get our friend groups to mingle.”

You shake your head as Dorcas gives the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady. As she swings open, you are met with music and the smell of alcohol and smoke. You make a face and shoot a glance at Dorcas.

“I think they started without you,” you say.

“Come on,” she replies, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the room.

After a quick stop at the drink table, you head to the group’s usual location, the couches and armchairs by the fire. Marlene jumps up as soon as she sees Dorcas and they melt into each other. You take a seat in an armchair, looking around the room. Thanks to Dorcas dragging you up here a few times, you’re beginning to recognize more of the students not in your year. 

“You’re here!” Lily says, spotting you and coming over to lean on your chair. 

From the smell of her, she’s had a few drinks already. The party must have started before Dorcas ripped you from your rest on the couch. 

“I am,” you say with a smile. “Heard my presence was requested.”

You take a slow sip of your drink. Lily could be quite the talker, especially when she had a few drinks in her to ruin her filter. She slaps a hand onto your thigh.

“Yes! Oh my goodness! You’re the best!” she exclaims. “Pandora’s a bit… loofy? And the boys she’s brought up?” She takes a sip of her own drink and makes a face. “Bad energy. Combined with our boys? Boom. Mess.”

You give her an amused smile and scan where she came from. The Marauders are all talking to each other, but you swear you see James nudge Sirius and look in your direction. 

“I can’t imagine Regulus…”

Lily cuts you off. “Sirius’ brother? He’s never come.”

Dorcas leans over to you, Marlene’s arms still very much wrapped around her. “I ask and he always denies.”

You shoot her a look for eavesdropping. Lily’s hand is still on your thigh with a firm grip. 

“Marlene,” you say, getting the blonde’s attention, “where’s your cat?”

“Dorm. Too loud!”

You suppress a groan and lean back into your chair. The cat had been part of why you came. If you were going to be in another house’s common room, you wanted, needed something furry to pet you. You clutch your cup with both hands and stare into the drink. Lily mutters something about getting another drink and leaves you to your thoughts. You are certain that Marlene and Dorcas were going to be snogging soon enough, Lily was already well on her way to being drunk and Mary was nowhere to be seen. Everyone you usually spoke with was essentially unavailable. You look over at the boys again. Do you bother seeing if their conversation is tolerable?

You sip on your drink, nursing it for a while. You’re not sure where Lily disappeared to and the lovely couple next to you was snogging, as you had predicted. You find yourself staring at the fire, enjoying how the flames appear to dance to the music playing. It’s enough to make you smile. As you finish your drink, you cast a quick glance toward the boys. Lily had joined them, her arm wrapped around James’ neck and practically falling into his shoulder to keep her balance. You really hope one of the boys has the decency to cut her off, or at least make sure she makes it up to bed at the end of the night. 

With a sigh, you set your empty cup on the ground and move to leave the Gryffindor Common Room. Dorcas was still preoccupied with Marlene so you knew she wouldn’t be missing you. It wasn’t like you were deep in conversation with anyone. You were sitting alone by the fire, a lone Slytherin with no real reason to be there. You felt out of place. So you made the logical decision to leave. Pandora or Regulus would still be up and you could keep one of them company. After you close the portrait behind you and you start to walk away, you hear it open and close again.

“Leaving so soon?” Sirius asks. 

You shake your head in disbelief, turning around to see him approaching you. You wonder if he had been watching you from the table where he had been sitting. You didn’t want to overthink it or assume anything, but you could’ve sworn you caught him staring at you a few times during class. 

“There are better places for me to be right now.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Was gonna go back to my dorm. Doubt Dorcas is missing me.”

“Marls is keeping her company.” Standing next to you now, Sirius throws an arm around your shoulder, causing you to raise your eyebrows at him. “How would you feel about being my chaperone while I get some fresh air, huh? Then you can sod off to wherever after I’m dropped off safe ‘n’ sound right here.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You won’t have to say you had one measly drink and ditched the party. Sounds pathetic if you ask me.”

“Hmm, too bad no one’s asking, you dog.”

He smiles widely, looking down at you. He was hopeful that you would agree since you hadn’t shrugged his arm off.

“Good thing you’re a dog person then!” he says mirthfully. He steers you in the opposite direction of the Slytherin Dungeon. “Astronomy Tower has the best fresh air.”

“Guess I don’t have a choice in going,” you mutter as you allow yourself to be directed. 

“You’re the one not putting up a fight.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Something tells me you’re into that and I’d be chaperoning you anyways.”

“Something tells me,” he mimics you, “that you wouldn’t let a drunk person…” He stumbles briefly and uses you to stabilize himself. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest. “Drunk person go to the Astronomy Tower alone,” he finishes. 

You both stop walking and look down at your hand on his chest. A faint blush dusts your cheeks as you remove both of your hands, clasping them in front of yourself. Apparently being a good person gets you stuck being people’s babysitter, you think. 

Once you reach the last staircase before the top of the Astronomy Tower, Sirius lets go of your shoulder and sprints up the stairs. You roll your eyes as you follow him up at your own pace. You started your evening in the dungeons and now you are going to the highest point of the castle. You were not going to be running. By the time you reach the top, Sirius is already leaning on the railing with a lit cigarette.

“I thought you wanted some fresh air?” you ask, hanging back.

“Air’s the freshest up here,” he says before taking a drag.

“So you decide to pollute it. Got it.”

You cross your arms and lean against the door frame. You didn’t need to be right up next to him to supervise him. You could see how his free hand was gripping his forearm as he leaned over the rail, letting the light breeze blow through his curls. It was moments like this where you saw what just about every girl in Hogwarts saw, the undeniable fact that Sirius was an attractive guy. After almost a minute, Sirius turns around to see where you are. 

“What you doing back there? Can’t chaperone very well from there.”

“Can too.”

“But what if,” he says, sliding his legs through the gap between rungs in the railing, “I were to slip?”

Your eyes go wide as his pelvis and torso follow his legs through the gap. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you nearly yell as you sprint toward him, knowing full well that you’d be too late to do anything.

When you reach the railing, he’s laughing as he’s barely hanging onto the bottom rung with both hands. You see he’s also balanced on a ledge that seems to be just his height below the platform.

“You’re a bastard, Black. You know that?” you ask, glaring down at him as your heart pounds in your chest. 

“I thought I was a dog,” he replies. “Now help me up, love.”

You hold out your hand and help him climb back up to safety.

“Where’d your cigarette go?” 

He laughs again. “You think I can pull that off and hold onto a lit cig? You must think quite highly of me.”

You give him a nasty look, which he just smiles at. He takes out the pack from his pocket and pulls out a fresh one, wasting no time in lighting it. He takes a drag and offers it to you.

“I know you don’t smoke,” he says with cheek.

“Thank you,” you say as you take the cigarette, ignoring his comment.

Now that you were sharing a cigarette with him, you stay at the railing with him. You have to admit to yourself that looking out at the night sky with the light breeze feels nice. Refreshing. Like the cold air had felt from that open window Sirius was smoking at when his friends sent you his way. 

Giving you a sideways glance, Sirius asks, “Did you know we have Charms, Potions and Dark Arts together?”

You scrunch your face, not looking at him. “Um, yeah?”

“Really? You knew that?”

“Did you just discover this?” you laugh, making him smile.

“Maybe…” he says almost shyly. “Can’t say I pay attention to everyone in my classes.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you’re paying attention to more important things.”

He hums in agreement. As he leans over the rail, you notice that he’s tapping his knee against one of the lower rungs. Your gut tells you it’s a nervous habit, but you’re not sure what he could be nervous about right now. Maybe he’s concerned a professor will find you up there? That doesn’t seem like it would be enough to set him off. Your punishment would be detention and Sirius wasn’t a stranger to detention.

“So why were you leaving the party?” he asks. 

“I was keeping the fireplace company. Parties can be pretty lonely when all your friends are distracted.”

“I could be your distraction,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, right,” you say sarcastically, taking the cigarette. After taking a drag, you add, “Even Marlene’s cat wasn’t around. Made sense for me to leave.”

“Thought you were a dog person?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t like cats. When Hogwarts doesn’t allow dogs except for you, I have to settle for second best.”

“But why settle when the best is right here?”

You turn your head to fully look at him. Was he being serious? Was he flirting with you? You want to laugh at yourself. Of course he was flirting, this is Sirius Black of all people. You take another drag of the cigarette that you still had. After a moment of silence, you hand it back to him.

“I think you’ve had enough fresh air, Black. Let’s get you back.”

You hold out your hand for him to take, but he doesn’t. Instead he throws his arm around your shoulder again. You can tell whatever tipsiness he had coming up here had faded; he’s much more sure in his footsteps. Even his grip on your shoulder feels more sure. As you walk, he pulls out his pack of gum and offers you a piece. You take a piece and pop it into your mouth. The two of you don’t say anything until you reach the portrait. You stop walking a few steps away, causing Sirius’ arm to fall back to his side and him to turn around to look at you with a confused look.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

You raise one of your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Thought you said I could sod off to wherever when I got you back.”

“I mean, yeah, I did,” he says, giving you a half smile and scratching the back of his neck. “Just thought, you know, we were talking and you wouldn’t be keeping the fireplace company. You can hang out with me.”

“Like I said before, Black, your brother is more my speed.”

“Ah, come on, love. Don’t be like that. We can get the room playing a game or something. Spin the bottle, truth or dare, seven min-” he rambles until you put a hand on his shoulder, instantly silencing him. 

“Good night, Sirius. Make sure Lily gets to bed okay. She was looking a bit gone earlier.”

Then you turn and head for the dungeons. Your bed was sounding real good right about now. As you walked away, Sirius stared after you. He thought you were leaving because you had no one to talk to you and he had offered a fix to that, so why were you walking away?

---

Regulus is still on the couch where you left him. You pass behind him on your way to your dorm.

“You smell like him again.”

“If he makes a move on me, you’ll be the first one I tell.”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy

Hope y'all enjoyed it <3 Do I make this into a series? A little slowburn, if you will?

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Sleeping with Simon] (I mean SFW sleeping not the other meaning)

Your mouth watering at the bread in your hand, the delicious smell fills your nostrils and you can’t wait to take a bite...

but wait, why’s the bread so hot and it’s getting hotter?! And why the hell is it growing bigger?!

just as the damn huge bread is about to crush you under it, your eyes snapped open.

Oh, it’s just a dream. You stare at the ceiling of your bedroom.

and you now understand why you had that weird dream, because Simon is suffocating you under his weight, the blanket already gets kicked by him and now pooling at the end of your bed, but under the man feels like a human heater by himself, you can feel yourself sweating in your shirt.

“Jesus... why are you so heavy...!” you manage to maneuver him back to his side of the bed, and you wrap the blanket around him before you return to your sleeping position, ready to fall asleep again.

“)&”-&&-,¥¥€|¥_£....” You hear Simon mumbling something more like a spell from the alien, and after a spin of his body, he rolls back and cross his fucking long leg around yours.

You don’t even try to care about the blanket now, which already gets kicked and flew to god knows where from the bed.

I will tie this big baby to the bed tomorrow. You look down at his peaceful face, and his arms securing you by your waist in place, let out a few chuckles, and shake your head slightly.

[66stitches]

dating abby headcanons

Art by fjorgust on instagram

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

divider creds

꩜ She isn’t super big on pda, but does little stuff like grab your hand or give you occasional kisses on the forehead just to remind you of how she loves you (and to let everyone know you’re hers).

꩜ With that being said, she’s all over you once you’re home.

꩜ Absolutely loves lazy morning cuddles and kisses far more than she’d like to admit.

꩜ I just know she listens to dad music. Definitely a big fan of The Offspring.

꩜ Loves to spoil her girl, but even though she doesn’t admit it, she secretly loves being spoiled and coddled as well.

꩜ Has a pretty high pain tolerance, but would sometimes exaggerate her pain just so you’d coddle and baby her, especially when she’s on her period.

And you know she’s fibbing, but you knew that if you confronted her she would immediately deny it and get super defensive (which is how you know she’s lying).

But you love babying her, so you’re more than happy to play along.

꩜ She snores, but it’s pretty soft and light, so you don’t really mind at all. It’s actually pretty comforting.

꩜ Shares her coin collection with you. You don’t really get the fascination, but seeing her ramble on passionately about what new coins she found only makes you fall in love deeper.

꩜ Reads classics. A huge fan of Dostoevsky. But also she loves nonfictions.

꩜ Absolutely sucks at video games. If you play, she’ll ask if she can try, only to get your character killed like five seconds later then complain that “something’s up with your controller.”

꩜ Loves having her hair played with. She would have trouble sleeping sometimes, but once your fingers are on those golden strands of hers she’s out like a light, already softly snoring into the pillow.

꩜ Sleeps completely naked with you. Not for any sexual purpose, but just feeling her bare skin against yours as you’re sleeping makes her feel closer to you than ever. It’s an innocently intimate and loving moment she likes to share with you.

Honestly just imagine cuddling to sleep at night completely naked. Everything is quiet and you’re peppering sleepy kisses on each other’s face, neck, shoulders, and rubbing each other’s arms and back 'til you fall asleep oh god I’m SICK.

꩜ This woman is in love with sitcoms and I will not be elaborating any further.

꩜ Claims she doesn’t like cats, but once came home like an hour late because she got caught up playing with a stray cat. Refused to tell you the real reason why she was late.

꩜ Cracks the dumbest jokes you’ve ever heard that only put a smile on your face because of how stupid they are and how cute she is when she says them.

Remember that scene where she was trying to joke around with Lev but she’s just super bad at it and he didn’t even try to play along? “You know our dogs can play cards like that?” Yeah, she does that with you too.

꩜ Cries after arguments (canon) but can’t stand people seeing her cry. She’s a pretty emotional person methinks.

꩜ Loves festivities. Will go all out on christmas and halloween, decorating the entire place and buying gifts (pesters you with questions about what you got her).

꩜ Pesto. She loves it on everything.

꩜ Loves massages. Back, shoulders, feet, scalp. Loves them all and only wants them from you.

꩜ A caregiver. (If you’re on meds), she’ll always make sure you take them and take them at the right time. She ensures that you eat three meals a day and get enough sleep, and even doesn’t let you stay up for too long. She just wants her girl to stay healthy.

꩜ She’s a total book hoarder. She promises not to buy another book 'til she’s done reading the ones she has, only for you to find a paper bag with ten new books the next day.

꩜ Loves you endlessly and has your entire wedding planned out in her head. She knows exactly what songs she wants to play and how she wants your dresses to look.

[pickledpet]

I’d love to breed you, fucking you hard as many times a day as I can until we fall asleep at 3am, exhausted, and you’re so full of my seed that you look like you’re already starting to show from pregnancy. I keep fucking you like that until you really are showing, long after your pregnancy test comes back positive, just to make sure—but then your hormones kick in and you’re begging me to fuck your boycunt every day anyway.

Finally you’re due. Then you’re overdue, and you’re huge. We know it can’t be one baby, but that’s why we fucked so much. You begged me to put two or three or six babies in you.

You can barely move as another week goes by, the babies kicking you and squirming, ready to be born. When another week and then another week draws to a close you’re begging me to fuck you until your water breaks. So I do. How could I resist you while you’re this gravid? Your water does break and gushes around my cock, and we’re both wet.

I fuck you slowly a while longer while you start laboring, the pain building and ebbing as I bring you to orgasm again and again for the next two hours. You’re whimpering with pain and overstimulation. We know you’re full of my seed and you’ll be pregnant again by the time you push out the placenta. But you already know—from being deliciously overdue for weeks—that you want to be pregnant again, quickly.

Finally you moan that you have to push. I pull out and go behind you to prop you up. You feel my cock, hard and leaking, pressing against your bare back. Just like we practiced—I pull your legs apart and lay them over my knees so you’re draped across me, your boycunt gaping and ready to birth out my babies. We both put our hands on your taut belly.

It’s time to push.

You tuck in your chin and strain as our first baby batters its way through your cervix. Birth fluids and cum spray out of you. When you feel the first stretch in your birth canal you whimper and gasp out, “It’s BIG.” Of course it’s big. You’re almost a month overdue. They’re all big.

I stroke your hard belly and tell you you’re my good boy, pushing hard for me like this. You’ve been such a good boy, holding my babies in for this long so they can come out strong and healthy. You push again and feel your birth canal fill with the baby’s head. You moan in my arms, “It hurts.” I know, baby, I put some big babies in you. This is going to hurt so fucking bad, I tell you, but after you’ve pushed out every baby I’ll make you cum over and over while I fill you back up with my seed.

“I think I’m gonna cum NOW,” you whimper. You buck your hips and whine long and low while you push, and then the orgasm hits and you feel the baby surge forward to hit the inside of your lips. You scream—it’s blinding agony and blinding pleasure. You push during the aftershocks, bucking and screaming.

“Fuck, it’s gonna crown!” Good boy, push hard, crown out my first baby. You’re panting in between every push, your belly hard under my fingers and your legs shaking. Suddenly the burn hits you, hard, the ring of fire as my huge baby starts to stretch your boycunt open. Instinctively you reach down to your boycunt—not that you CAN reach it. You haven’t been able to touch yourself for 7 weeks. You still can’t reach down that far and you start thrashing in my arms, crying and screaming. “It hurts! It’s crowning, it’s crowning, oh my god it huuuurts!”

I pin your legs open and lean forward, forcing you to fold towards your belly and putting pressure on your still-full womb. PUSH, boy.

“No! No! Oh my god, oh my god!” And then your voice is lost in a scream as my baby’s huge head eases to a full crown, then pops out with a rush of amniotic fluid. We collapse back against the pillows.

You’re sobbing in relief, “Oh my god, it came out. It came out. I just gave birth. Fuck it hurt so fucking bad.”

I rub your belly and tell you it’s not out yet. You practically go limp in my arms, weeping with pain and exhaustion. That’s fine. I wasn’t going to let you push right now anyway. You start squirming, “Something’s happening. It hurts…” I tell you the baby is rotating so you can push out the shoulders. Your legs are shaking again. “I think I’m gonna cum ag—“ And your sentence finishes in a scream as you cum, hard, and the shoulders shoot out of your boycunt. Your screams tip me over the edge and my cock spasms against your back, pumping hot cum between us. The aftershocks roll through both of us as you finish birthing out our baby onto the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, I feel empty,” you moan.

I roll out from behind you, sticky, and crawl between your legs to retrieve our firstborn baby. I pick her up and put her on your chest. She must be at least nine pounds. You’re such a good boy, pushing out such a huge baby all on your own. You’re nearly delirious with painful contractions and the haze of cumming so hard. I feel deep inside your boycunt and you squirm around my fingers.

“Babe, I-I need to push again,” you whimper. “I need to push so bad.”

But I already know that. I can already feel the next baby’s huge head stretching your cervix even wider than the first baby.

This is so good, I don't know if I should fuck myself about it or if I should cry because I want to be bred like this so bad 🤭🤤

[oooyousillybilly]

18+

rodrick x reader

cw: uhhh sex ell oh ell also he cums early but if people want a part 2 i can do thaaaat it’s been in my drafts for so long lmao

rodrick is notorious for his awkwardness attempting to interact with the opposite gender. whether it be due to nerves or a lack of social skills on his part, it’s always been an issue for him.

the fact that he has a girl in his bed right now is unbelievable.

you have always noticed rodrick in the halls during school. despite what he might be telling greg, he is not as popular as he seems. neither were you though, so you didn’t care.

you found it really hot, actually. which is why you’re the one in his bed.

heavy breathing and the creaking of rodrick’s bed were the only things that could be heard from his room. you were on top of him, nervously looking at rodrick for permission.

“we have to be quiet, my family’s asleep downstairs,” rodrick whispers, his voice wavering slightly from slight anxiousness and excitement.

you nod, and help guide his cock to your opening. you finally sink down, gasping softly in the process at the feeling of finally being filled.

you stay still for a moment, trying to get used to the feeling. rodrick whimpers slightly, trying not to buck his hips up into you. finally, you position put your hands on his shoulder and start moving up and down on his cock. although slow and careful, rodrick cannot stop himself from throwing his head back and moaning, covering his mouth so the sound is muffled.

“oh my god, it’s so good,” he cries out, as you speed up trying to hit that spot. the sounds of creaking intensifies, attempting to chase that high.

rodrick’s hands start playing with your tits through your bra, and you move your hands so that you could take it off. as soon as it falls down your shoulders, he dives in, lapping at your nipples as you bounce on his cock. his hands wander down your body, resting on your hips as you continue.

your thighs start burning and you stop, leaning your head down to his shoulder and crying out softly in frustration.

“i can’t, can we switch?” you whisper desperately in his ear. he nods and gets on top of you, pushing your legs to your torso, and then enters you, mouth dropping as he bottoms out. he immediately starts thrusting, kissing you passionately and biting your bottom lip playfully. you giggle softly as your eyes flutter closed, immersed in the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you at such a heavenly pace.

you can feel his thrusts wavering already, his breathing becoming more shaky. “i-i’m gonna cum,” he stumbles out as he gives out one final thrust and fills you with him. his moans are high and it’s almost pathetic.

you play with his hair as he rests his head on your shoulder trying to contain himself, processing the fact that he just lost his virginity. you, on the other hand, are frustrated due to the fact that you haven’t cum yet.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Since you are taking in the filthy kind, how about the Stan twins with aftercare?

People really underestimate the importance of it. Aftercare need to be taught more!

˖ . ݁ Stan & Ford aftercare headcanons 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

a/n: oh i adore this request. ur absolutely right, people seriously underestimate how important aftercare is. it’s necessary and honestly deserves way more space both in fics and real life ♡ sorry i got carried away with Stan lol

warning: mentions of sex

۶ৎ STANLEY

ᯓ★ Stan can’t talk for like a full five minutes. first of all because he’s tired as fuck and second because he’s emotionally ruined. just stares at the ceiling and breathes. you’ll be curled against his side and he’ll say, “holy shit ?? fuck, i love you????“

ᯓ★ he’ll beg to make it up to you. “lemme take care of you now, honey. just lay back. lemme kiss you all over. lemme show you how good you are to me.”

ᯓ★ mullet Stan will say smth as “that was better than therapy. and cheaper, too”

ᯓ★ he’s sweating bullets. big panting huffing breaths. “holy shit, sweetheart, we okay? you still here? you still with me? you took it so good, baby. jesus, i don’t deserve you.”

ᯓ★ he’s got the shakes. and he covers it up with jokes. “damn near saw god back there. d’you see me black out for a sec? no? cool, cool. . .” but his hands are trembling as he strokes your hair. he needs to feel you against him to steady his own pulse

ᯓ★ Stanley immediately runs to grab a towel or his softest shirt. he wipes your skin so carefully. but you can tell he’s holding back, he’s afraid to hurt you more, even though a second ago he was absolutely rearranging your guts. silly guy

ᯓ★ he’ll sleep belly to belly with you, one leg thrown over your thigh, his hand splayed protectively over your heart. he breathes with you, tries to sync his exhale to your inhale. you’re his home now. and he needs you warm and close and real

ᯓ★ he’s obsessed with putting clothes back on you. even if it’s just his old t-shirt. you’ll be lying there naked and he’s already tugging it over your head, muttering “you’ll get cold, c’mere, lemme wrap you up“ because he needs you covered and safe!!

ᯓ★ he feeds you :) always. digs out whatever snack he can find. his hands and legs are still trembling but he cant help it, he needs to take care of you. and for Stanley sharing food with someone is caring. because for most of his life, it was food that he lacked

ᯓ★ no, you don't understand. listen to me. he insists you eat smth >:( like physically brings you snacks and bottle caps soda and says, “don’t argue. i fucked the calories right outta you. now open up.” he’ll feed you bites with his fingers if you let him

ᯓ★ uhh yeah. Stan (mullet Stan too) absolutely cries in secret when you fall asleep on his chest. it's silent tears more than all. he’s not used to this. not used to being trusted, loved, held. he wraps both arms around you and buries his face in your hair. “how’d i get so lucky?“

ᯓ★ he’s an expert at holding you. no lie. he won’t move unless you do. you say “gotta pee,” and he groans so dramatic “you leavin’ me already?? i just got my baby where i want them!!!“

ᯓ★ idk why i imagine mullet Stan doing this more than all, but he peels off his undershirt and uses it to clean you up, even if it’s gross for u. “here, lemme, uh, just— there. that better?” he’s blushing even though you just had your mouth on his cock for 10 straight minutes.

he says “hope it didn’t get in your eye” you laugh and this guy melts

ᯓ★ Stan asks for “just five more minutes” of cuddling. every time. doesn’t matter if you’re sweaty, sticky, crushed into a single bed in 90 degree heat. he needs your body on his

ᯓ★ he plays with your jewelry. if you wear any, of course. rings, earrings, necklace, he fidgets with them after sex like a nervous habit. rolls your ring between his fingers. traces your earlobe. kisses your collarbone where your chain sits

۶ৎ FORD

ᯓ★ Ford needs to say your name after. several times. “you’re alright, y/n?”

“you did so well, y/n. . .”

“youre so, so good to me, y/n”

ᯓ★ he’ll get very quiet and just trace your lower back with his fingertips. slow circles. sometimes writes his initials with a dumb smile. he won’t say what he’s doing. but it’s so soft you melt into the bed.

ᯓ★ Ford gets so tender he’ll read to you after. pulls out a worn book, props you against his chest, and reads soothing, slow-voiced excerpts about galaxies or old poetry, he loves these and he knows you do too. he does it to calm himself too

ᯓ★ after intense sex, he won’t let you walk afterward. Ford scoops you into his arms even if you protest. “you’re not to stand on those legs yet. they’ve worked enough tonight.”

you get carried to the bath. the bed. the couch. wherever. you're his tiny galaxy to transport<3

ᯓ★ ahhh he’ll sit you in his lap and wrap his coat around both of you

ᯓ★ he apologizes even if you liked it. he’s so guilty but so reverent. “i shouldn’t have let myself get like that. youre— youre precious. i mean, youre not meant to be handled like— like a thing“ but if you tell him you liked it, he’ll go feral all over again, this time with his mouth on your pulse and his hands stroking your trembling calves <3

ᯓ★ he checks your temperature. again not consciously. his hand cups your cheek, your collarbone, your thigh. “are you warm enough? still breathing okay?”

ᯓ★ he’ll ask “are you alright?” in five different ways. “did i push too hard?”, “can i hold you closer?”, “you’re not sore, are you?”, “let me get you smth.”, “say anything. please.”

ᯓ★ this man is terrified you’ll regret it. he hides it well, but his fear of being too desperate makes him quiet, shivery

ᯓ★ Ford doesn’t sleep until you do. again, it’s not even conscious i think. he watches you breathe, your eyes flutter closed, and only then lets himself soften too. he pulls the blanket higher around your shoulder. kisses your forehead

ᯓ★ he needs to say “thank you.” after sex. every time. and he means it. hes grateful you trust him. Ford says it with his lips pressed to your temple. sometimes he tears up. doesn’t tell you

ᯓ★ if you suck him off especially sloppy though he’ll wipe your mouth with his sleeve so gently you feel like royalty aahahahha murmurs smth as “there. now you’re perfect again.“

ᯓ★ he’ll hold your foot in his lap and rub slow circles into your ankle

ᯓ★ he wants to journal what happened. but not to be creepy, he just wants to remember it all and my boy just loves journaling okay?? your sounds. your body. your little laugh. it’s sacred to him

[mayanneaa]

always and (not) forever - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY : rafe breaks up with you right after you get accepted to stanford university.

WARNING(S) : angst, swearing, not really proofread

A/N : can you tell i just watched to all the boys: always and forever? (divider by @roseraris )

WC : 0.7k

masterlist.

Your heart’s pounding more and more as you click on the email you just got.

It’s late at night, only the crickets outside accompanying your growing emancipation. You squeeze the hem of your pajama shirt, biting your lip almost to blood.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for forever— the week of acceptance letters from Stanford.

You can’t really remember when exactly you decided that a university across the whole country was good for you. It just… happened.

Your boyfriend, Rafe, wasn’t particularly excited for you to study so far away since he wanted to go to the one in-state. You managed to convince him that you’ll be well.

The email is long, but after the first words, you don’t even bother reading more. You got in.

A scream escapes your lips, quickly muffled by your hands. You sit there wide-eyed, the faint light of your laptop’s screen falling on your face.

“Oh my God.”

You immediately grab your phone, trembling fingers dialing Rafe’s number. He answers faster than the first ding.

“What’s up, baby?” His voice’s a little raspy and low as if he was falling asleep.

“I got into Stanford,” you whisper, the words feeling unreal once they leave your mouth. “Can you believe it, Rafe?”

He doesn’t say a single word before he lets out a faint hum. “That’s… great. I mean, you’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, of course!”

There’s a silence— a moment where you can let your emotions cool off a bit, followed by Rafe clearing his throat.

“Actually… Can we meet?”

You knit your eyebrows. His voice is steady but distant. Something you haven’t heard in a while. “Like, right now?”

Rafe hums in response, and you feel the confusion bubbling up. “Well, if you want to you can come over, but be quiet. My parents are asleep.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

You hang up the phone, your hand lingering as you glance at the laptop screen.

Was Rafe overthinking this whole ‘distance’ thing once again?

You’ve already told him a million times that it will work out. So why the sudden change of mind?

You slip your feet into your slippers and grab a hoodie you throw on on the stairs.

The light from Rafe’s motorcycle flashes through the windows, a quiet buzz filling the natural silence. You quickly open the door and get outside, a chilly breeze hitting your bare legs.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, crossing your arms on your chest.

Rafe takes off his helmet and looks at the ground. “I think we should break up before you go to Stanford.”

You grimace, scrunching your nose. “What are you talking about? Rafe, we’ve been through this. I know it’s hard to be this long distance, but we can do it—”

“No.” The word comes out of his mouth so quickly, you gasp under your breath. “Honestly, how do you see that? Going from what we are now, from me getting to your door in five fucking minutes to seeing each other once God knows how much time?”

“But… you agreed to that earlier…”

“I was wrong,” Rafe says as quietly as a whisper, his voice cracking. “I’m not going to watch it all fall apart in two, four, or even six months. It’s better if we just end it now.”

You squeeze your arms and clench your jaw so tight it almost hurts.

How dare he just stand there, not even looking at you, as your life seems to split in two?

“Don’t say that, Rafe. You don’t mean it…” You say, your voice is small, but you know better than this. Rafe doesn’t just say things.

“I do.”

Two words. Those two words were enough to let the tears pushing onto your eyelids fall.

“Are you serious? After all we’ve been through, you leave me because of some stupid belief that we will not make it?” You sigh, anger spilling out with each breath you take.

“Go, Rafe. I don’t want to see your face.”

He inhales sharply as if you just slapped him. Maybe you should’ve done that. Instead, you turn on your heels and storm into the house, not giving Rafe another glance.

All you hear is the engine running, and the quiet sound of your heart breaking.

taglist :

@amterasuu

[i2rizz]

hii ! Your last fic abt the bllk boys turning into kids was so good 🥹 do you mind doing a reo and Nagi version ??

Absolutely!

Tho i also added bachira and chigiri :>

Bllk Boys Turned Into Children Pt.2

Nagi Seishiro

You find him half-asleep under your blanket, looking like a sleepy little marshmallow.

“Huh? Y/n?” he yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you so big?”

Oh. God. Nagi’s tiny.

He’s the same ol’ lazy boy but now he’s adorable about it.

“I don’t wanna walk. Carry me”

Refuses to be put down.

Clings to your leg like a sleepy sloth. You try to cook? He’s clinging. Bathroom? He’s at the door. You sit? He’s already sprawled in your lap.

“Can you scratch my back? And play video games? And feed me snacks?”

And if you say no? This manchild will look up at you with big, misty eyes and whimper, “You don’t love me anymore?”

By the end of the day, you’ve hand-fed him cereal, braided his hair because “you’re good at it,” and rocked him to sleep during a movie. He mumbles in his sleep, clutching your hoodie: “You’re my favorite buff”

You don’t even know what that means, but your heart is melted.

Reo Mikage

You come home to see a tiny boy standing on the kitchen stool in one of your designer hoodies, his arms swimming in the sleeves.

“I used the gold card,” he says. “Don’t be mad”

…He bought a bounce house. It’s already in the yard.

Reo is that rich kid energy even as a child—dramatic, pouty, and thinks money can fix everything.

But he’s also so painfully in love with you.

“Will you marry me?”

“Reo, you’re like seven.”

“I can wait. I’m patient. I’ll grow into my tuxedo if i don't turn back”

He shows you magic tricks (bad ones), wants to match outfits, and keeps trying to impress you with cartwheels (they suck).

But the second you call him cute?

His cheeks light up like he’s on fire. “You can’t just say that! I have a reputation! I’m classy!”

He throws tantrums when denied snacks but ends up sulking in your lap anyway, mumbling, “I just wanted to make you proud…”

You almost cry.

Bachira Meguru

You find him upside-down on the couch.

No literally. Upside-down. Hanging. Smiling.

“HIIIIIIIII~!”

You’re already exhausted.

Kid!Bachira is pure gremlin energy. He’s fast. He’s loud. He climbs everything. He won’t stop talking.

He makes up wild stories. “I turned into a kid ‘cause of aliens. They like soccer too.”

Runs around the house with your scarf as a cape.

Tries to draw on your face when you fall asleep.

But the second you look even a little sad?

He crashes into you with the fiercest hug and whispers, “Don’t be sad. I’ll fight the aliens for you”

Then cries when you say you’re proud of him.

At bedtime, he refuses to sleep alone and insists you tell him stories. When you ask what kind?

“Ones where we win. And I get to kiss you”

You choke on your water. He giggles.

Chigiri Hyoma

You find a small, red-haired boy sitting on the floor, frowning at your moisturizer.

He looks up slowly. “…Don’t look at me.”

Tiny Chigiri is just as prideful, just as pretty, and now—extra sassy.

He’s dramatic over every scraped knee, refuses to let you brush his hair (“You’ll mess it up!”), and gives death glares to your phone if it takes too much of your attention.

“I don’t need help,” he grumbles, dragging a chair twice his size across the kitchen.

But he does want you to sit and watch him do it.

The moment you praise him? His ears go pink.

“Not like I did it for you or anything…”

Sure, lil prince.

He still gets shy if you kiss his forehead but secretly climbs into your bed to snuggle at night, face buried in your side.