#once everything's been laid bare and he can finally relax and move on

[princema-k]

Request for a Dimitri maybe? Love your art <3

thank u lots!!! he liked ur joke :)

[thephantomsdream]

Simon "Ghost" Riley that likes to be pampered, to be taken care of and let me tell you, he's just so not used to it. He's never had anyone to really treat him anything close to good.

In all honesty, he genuinely thought it was fine, being alone. He's a solitary creature, as life taught him to be, and deep down he convinced himself it was best. It didn't matter if there was a small, minuscule, pained tug at his heart every time he thought about it.

What he didn't expect was to be whipped immediately, one glance into your eyes and he was a goner. It went against his reasoning, this instinct of his to have you, battling everything he's been trying to avoid at all costs. But that one glance, that small smile you gave him, and he just knew. And months of tedious yet slow opening up and trying not only for you, but for himself, Simon was yours somehow. Baffling as it was, he now had someone to go home to. A sweet angel that in no time he plans to up and move into that bare house he has and take care of. Only thing is, the man did not expect to be taken care of himself, as if he forgot that was an option.

The first few times you two dated, officially, as he had to clarify this wasn't what kids these days mean by "hanging out" or "talking to" or whatever the fuck Johnny and Kyle were babbling to him about their dating lives (it's dating or not, Simon likes things clear), the man was surprised by how sweet yet determined you were. "Can I hold your hand?" You asked him a little flustered, and this big boy almost stuttered. He found himself nodding while gulping before taking your hand in his, internally beating himself up for acting like such a... boy? Having a silly crush on a lovely sweetheart that made him nervous by just exiting around him.

God, it felt fantastic when he finally got to kiss you. Simon thought it was gonna be just a kiss, big fucking deal (he was trying to cope, his hands were sweaty but whatever, big deal), but the way you sighed and melted into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck made him shudder. It ignited something in him and his heart tugged again, this time not painful but hopeful.

It was the way you touched his scarred face that really astonished him, especially the first night you spent in his house. Whatever movie you babbled about the last date, vampires or whatever, was now playing on his flat screen on the new profile he created for you on whatever streaming service Simon just bought just to watch it. Another tiny bit of you in his life, it seemed. Movie was fucking awful, truly, fucking dumb teenagers and vampires, but whatever, your boyfriend (bloody fucking hell it felt fantastic and scary to think that he's now yours officially) was determined to watch it even if he snorted and made fun of it every three seconds, yet having you giggle by his side made his cold heart warm up as it beat a thousand times per second. Once again, he found himself about to mock something jokingly when he turned to you, finding your beautiful eyes already on him, expression warm and relaxed.

"Come here." At that moment, Simon Riley realized he'd follow anything you'd order him, as his body moved without any thoughts, just closer to you. Like a stray dog that's learning what a home is, something he's never really had, and when your lips touched his cheek while caressing the other, the world slowed down.

Having you move closer to him, placing a leg over his, smiling at him sweetly while gently kissing the scar near his lower lip, all he could do was stare dumbly as his face felt on fire. Little did he know that his pale cheeks reddened so adorably that you started to giggle. God, he fucking loved that sound.

"Lay on me, c'mon." You ordered gently again, grabbing his calloused hands to tug him onto you as you laid down on your back. Simon knew he looked like an idiot in awe, very much aware he's always had a staring problem. But as he crawled gently over you, expecting you to push him off after abruptly changing your mind, all he could do was to look down into your cleavage and stare like a muppet. " 'S aight?" Being all he asked before hearing a nice hum, approval for him to lay on you.

That day, Simon learned what heaven is. Your fingers into his hair, slowly, gently playing with his dirty blond locks, his face in your soft tits, your voice oh-so clear as he pressed his ear into your torso, the slow rumble almost putting him to sleep while his eyes were focused on the silly movie. His arms were wrapped around you while he just laid down between your legs. His dumb jokes still delivered as he muffled them out lazily, getting you to laugh and make him smirk as you(r tits) jiggled under him, and his reward, because you're a fucking angel, of course, was a sweet kiss on his temple every single time. The man could be turning into a clown by the end of the night as long as you kissed him so tenderly.

You spoiled him too. How dare you, really? Bringing him sweets, asking him what he wants to eat, adjusting your schedule to fit his (man's off duty, he can camp outside your house and come in whenever you want him to, if you'd be willing, like a good obedient dog), just making him feel wanted. It was odd. And new. And addicting.

You cared. You cared for him. And in his wonky yet honest way, he cared too. Always making sure that you know he's somehow thinking of you. He wanted to try. He wanted to make sure you'll stick around. The military has taught this man a lot of things, and apart from his head-strong conviction that he indeed can do anything if he puts his mind to it, another was how to not fuck up something good, all through the hundreds of stories from many other soldiers about failed relationships. He knows all the perspectives, all the failures, all the erros and all the aftermaths, so he learned to listen and not blame, to pay attention, to be there even if he was half a world away. Simon is determined to keep you around, coming back to you battered, wounded, traumatized, exhausted, and is greeted with his angel, all ready to pick him up, wrap him in a warm blanket and fuss over his ass. He'd roll his eyes at you, but his emerging smile said it all.

His heart now tugs when he's about to pick his luggage, a duffle bag filled with essentials and nothing more. A week earlier than expected too, relief washing over his body like never before, knowing you're at home waiting for good news. And he's heading that way too, determined, unrelenting, head first, no thoughts. He's going home to you.

Home to warm, delicious food, instead of stale and plain. Home to sweet laughter and love, instead of orders barked and indifference. Home to his, your comfortable bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other, the plump delicious curves of your body pressed against his hardened one. Home to gentle, home to calm, home to soft, home to himself, home to everything. Home to his heart, that is tugging him closer and closer, where he left it with you.

I'm just gonna dump this here and leave. Not proofread because we're old and lazy here.

[satorella]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰”

“Y’know you have to go back to Germany eventually, right?” You said while lying on 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 chest, listening to his heartbeat.

He sighs, dragging a finger up and down your spine. “I know, Liebchen [darling/sweetheart].” He pauses before continuing, “…I hate leaving you...” You had no response. You couldn’t tell him to just up and drop his career for you. Not that you would ever make him, or let him, do that in the first place. Soccer was all he knew, before you. And you were understanding of that. “Come with me.” He breaks the silence. You lifted your head up off his chest and gave him a confused look. “Micha, you know I can’t.” “Why not? You’re not even happy here in your own country.” He made a good point.

“So, what? Just drop everything, sell my house, my car, leave my friends and family, my life behind?” You were pacing around your room now, while he was still relaxed on your bed, his private area only being covered by the thin blanket. He was casually just flipping through the novel you were currently into. “Ja.” [Yes.] You stopped and glared at him. “Babe, this is serious. Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” “Mhm.” Your eye twitched at his nonchalance. He snaps your book shut and finally looks up at you. “I’ll take care of you. What was that thing you would always say? That you’re ‘meant to be a passenger princess’ or whatever? Well, now you can be.” He shrugs. “For the record, I only said that once or twice!” You look away sheepishly. He couldn’t help but smirk at your expression. “Riiiight.” He replied sarcastically, sitting up on the edge of your bed. He pulled the blanket off, exposing himself and patted his thigh, beckoning you to come. You practically melted at the gorgeous, naked sight of him and walked over. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in between his legs, “Come on, Engel [Angel].” His voice was soft. “And what about when you leave for games? I’ll be alone again, but in a foreign country.” You slightly pouted, playing with the blue ends of his hair. He shrugged again, “You will come with me to my games too. So einfach ist das.” [It’s that simple.] It wasn’t a bad idea.

You did love watching him play. You even got too into it at times.

He remembered one time when he’d been shoved and landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. As he laid there on the field, trying to get his breath back, he looked up into the stands and saw you screaming at the top of your lungs at the ref, almost about to climb over the railing to give the other player a piece of your mind. Thankfully, Ness was benched during that half of the game and was able to calm you down before security came. It turned him on… how feral you got for him…

He dicked you down so good that night.

He pulled you even closer so that you were straddling him now, his hands making their way under your robe and slowly up your sides. “S-So… you realize… you’re basically asking me to move in with you, right?” You clarified. His hands slowly moved up higher, thumbs lightly tracing circles on your bare skin. “That’s the general idea, ja.” He kept talking as if all this was no big deal. But now that you think about it, it would have happened eventually… so. He hummed as he gently cupped your breasts, taking your now hardening nubs between his index and middle finger. You slightly threw your head back, enjoying his touch. He grabbed ahold of your hips as you started to rock against him, his grip becoming a bit rougher as he started to guide your movements. He leaned in, pressing his lips against you; starting from your shoulder and making his way up to your neck. “M-Micha… we… we still need to discuss this…” You bit your bottom lip, trying to stay focused. “No more talking. Just fucking.” His voice was low and demanding; once bright blue eyes, now dark. “Sag einfach ja.” [Just say yes.] He whispers. You let out a content sigh. He really knew how to make you loosen up, didn’t he?

Tsk.

He undid the knot on your robe and let it slip off of you. A shiver ran through you as the cool air hit your skin, along with his touch. You moaned out a “yes” just as you sunk down onto his hard cock. You guys may actively fuck like rabbits, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his larger size. He gave you a second to adjust, before he wrapped your legs around his waist and stood up to place you on the edge of your vanity. “Ah! B-Babe! My makeup!” You whimpered as his hard thrusts caused all your things to topple over. He grabs your chin and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss to stop you from talking.

“I’ll buy you more in Germany.” He grunts.

© 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Join my tag list!📋

(New 𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒌 discord server👯‍♀️)

[zepskies]

A Little Danger

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: While relaxing together in the bunker, Dean takes your playful teasing to a new level. (And he’s too horny to care about the consequences.)

AN: Couch sex, basically. This is another one for the Espresso-verse! Includes a call back to Devour Me.

Word Count: 2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Smutty smut in a semi-public place. Hair pulling, flirty teasing, endearments, “twist” ending.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Usually, Dean likes the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

Like now, on a rare day of quiet relaxation after a long hunt. When Mary’s out and Sam’s on a grocery run. And Dean’s laid out across the couch in the library, arms crossed, earbuds in while Zeppelin’s “Going to California” plays in stereo, his head and shoulders resting against your plush thigh.

Your feet are propped up on the coffee table, your mostly bare legs crossed at the ankles. You have a book in one hand while you’ve been absently massaging his head…

But when you start to get weary of reading, in your boredom, your clever fingers become less soothing through his light brown hair, and more playful in their ministrations. You start to push his hair in the opposite direction, making it spike forward in disarray.

Dean frowns. You can’t see it, but you sense the change, in the way he stops bobbing his head lightly in time with the music.

You bite back a smile and continue your little game, even tugging a little on the strands when you push them forward. Like rubbing a cat the wrong way.

Letting out an annoyed breath through his nose, Dean takes out one earbud.

“What. Are you doing?” he asks.

It takes everything within you not to laugh.

“You’re my erizito,” you reply, smiling. You take a peek at his profile and catch the way his brows furrow.

“What the hell’s that?” he asks.

“My little hedgehog,” you translate the Spanish endearment for him, and you tease him, tugging again on his soft strands.

You finally have to giggle at the way he looks back at you from the corner of his eye. You get maybe one more time to sweep your fingers through his hair the wrong way, before he grabs your hand and turns over.

Your resulting squeal turns into laughter when he yanks his earbuds off and plucks your book out of your hand.

“Eh, eh! Don’t lose my place,” you warn, stopping him from closing the book all the way. He allows you to dog-ear your page, but he then tosses the book onto the coffee table to join his phone and earbuds.

“Come ‘ere,” he mutters.

Then he grabs your crossed legs and manhandles you beneath him on the couch. You allow it with a yelp of surprise and much giggling when he jostles you, pulling you down by your hips. Dean lowers himself between your legs, where he’s so often welcome, and settles his body over yours.

You smirk in his face. His hair is all kinds of fucked up.

He can see you’re admiring your handiwork. Little hedgehog, huh?

With a shake of his head, he bows down and silences your teasing with a kiss.

Your eyes fall closed. You breathe in and utter a sound of contentment. You frame his face with your hands and follow the familiar dance of his lips against yours.

A delicious push and pull that has his teeth grazing your full lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair. His other arm is perched high above your head, giving him leverage to completely cage you with his broad, heavy frame.

But it’s a good heavy. You like the feel of him laid out over you, protective and claiming all at once. And he likes the feeling of every soft curve of yours; thighs, breasts, and soft middle all a welcoming place for him to rest—and then ravage.

His lips veer away from your mouth, allowing you both to catch your breath. He burns a warm, sloppy path along your jawline. You wrap your arms around him and splay your hands across his back. They slide lower as he moves down, and down your neck.

“Babe,” you prompt quietly in his ear. You can’t help but smile. “We’ve gotten in trouble on this couch before.”

As in, you both have been caught buck ass naked and tangled together on this couch. By his brother. Twice.

Dean smirks, just before he starts to tease the shell of your ear with his tongue.

“Tell me you don’t like a little danger,” he says. 

Right, you think, with a shudder at his tongue. Or, he just has no fucking shame.

You have to giggle regardless. The trembling in your chest moves both of you, makes the shape of Dean’s smile press into your skin. He continues his downward path and rucks up your shirt.

Your knees bend further on reflex and squeeze his hips when his tongue dips between your breasts, still pushed up by your bra. You arch your back so he can slip a hand under your back and unclip the white lace. He slides it off your body, along with getting your shirt up and over your head.

Your hands dive under his layers of red plaid and black undershirt, sliding up and down the smooth slopes of his back, grazing with your nails, getting him worked up enough to have him yank off the layers himself.

He’s left in his jeans, which begin to find friction against your clothed center through the little shorts you often wear around the bunker. Dean both likes them and hates them.

Likes them, because you fill them out well, and he likes getting a handful of your ass (like he’s doing now, while he begins to rock the hard bulge in his jeans against your core while kissing you hungrily).

He also hates these little spandex shorts, because he’d rather his brother not get to see you in them. Still, Dean gets too much enjoyment out of slipping his fingers under them, squeezing your thigh, letting his thumb brush down towards your center.

Already your pussy’s throbbing.

“Need you,” you pant against his lips.

It’s been a bit too long since you two have had this kind of time alone together, not to mention the energy to fool around. It’s making you not really give a fuck about being out in the open in the middle of the library, when your shared bedroom is just down the hall.

Dean nods, then he finally palms one of your breasts like he’s reacquainting himself with an old friend. He rolls a budding nipple between his fingers and moans when he gets the other into his mouth, swirling with his tongue.

He drags a moan out of you too. You delve your hand into his wrecked hair and grip tight to keep him there.

You find yourself writhing underneath him, your hips rolling against his with need.

“Dean…” Your voice is pleading.

“Okay, I gotcha,” he says against your skin. He drags down your little shorts by the hem and reveals bare ass against the couch cushions. He hums with interest. “No panties today?”

“Surprised you didn’t notice,” you quip.

Though you do the work of unclipping his belt and helping him shimmy out of the jeans, letting them pool to the floor alongside your clothes. You roll down his boxer briefs far enough to let his cock spring free. He grabs your arm and utters a deep groan at the way you handle him, with a gentle but firm hand along his shaft.

“Guess I’ve been distracted,” he admits. He presses a forehead against your shoulder and bucks into your hand, the more you tease him. “Fuck, how long’s it been since—”

“A couple weeks,” you answer him. You begin to kiss down his neck, occasionally nipping his skin. “Too long.”

“Too damn long,” he agrees, with another sound of pleasure. He stops your hand so he can concentrate on getting you ready. He slips a long finger down your slit and between the wet folds of your pussy, where you’re already soaking for him, coating his digit.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, “all this for me, baby?”

You breathe a laugh and drag your nails down the back of his neck. “Always.”

Dean grins. Just to be thorough, he slips two fingers into your wet channel. He revels at the way you hold him close by the back of his neck and moan encouragements into his ear. But you cry out when his thumb finds your clit, and circles it with precision. Then the rest of his fingers open you up and rub against your most sensitive places.

As your inner walls tighten, so does your hand; it moves back into his hair so you have something better to hold onto. 

“Dean,” you utter a warning. He nods and withdraws his hand from inside you. He peeks over the couch again, just to make sure no one’s coming. You both know this is about to be quick and dirty.

You both are panting when he grasps your hips and gives himself a better angle. You hook your thighs around his waist and give him an encouraging nod. With that, Dean positions himself at your entrance and slowly sheathes his cock deep inside you.

You release a shuddering breath, pressing your head back into the cushions. Your hair is a tangled mess fanning underneath you. He still has a hand planted on the couch’s arm above your head; you grasp his arm for stability. Dean rubs one of your thighs, in part to also get himself together as your inner walls spasm tight around him.

Fuck, it has been a while.

But he’s making up for lost time. He gives you long, steady strokes at first, letting you feel every inch of his cock as he drives back into you. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine and you arch against him, your hands clasped on his arms.

Your heels pressing into his ass spur him on and speed up his rhythm, until he’s hitting so hard and deep against your cervix that it almost hurts. It’s a mix of intense pleasure tinged with that briefest bit of pain as he also hits your G-spot over and over.

But a few purposeful swipes of his thumb over your clit ensures that you come with him when he finally spills into you. He buries his face where your neck meets your shoulder, and a ragged grunt rolls from his throat as his release truly hits him.

You hold him to you, your own thighs quivering along with his last few strokes inside you. That hot coil snaps and you let out a gasping moan—one he swallows up with a deep kiss.

“Jesus,” you breathe, after he releases your lips. Dean catches his breath and gives you a shrug, despite his smug grin.

You smirk and once again sweep your hand through his ridiculous hair. It’s even more wild than before. You pull your hands through it, sliding down his neck on both sides. 

“I stand corrected,” you say slyly. “Now you’re my erizote.”

Dean snorts. “And that would be?”

“My big hedgehog,” you tease.

Dean rolls his eyes, even as his face warms. He tries not to laugh in the face of your unending giggles.

Neither of you register the footsteps coming closer until it’s just about too late.

“Dean, are you—Oh!”

His face falls, and his eyes widen when they meet his mother’s over the back of the couch.

“Shit!” he exclaims, covering you with his body when you gasp. But it’s not really you that you’re worried about her seeing.

No mother should have to see her adult son’s naked ass.

Mary stands there behind the couch with her hand over her eyes.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t see…anything,” she says. Usually she’s a better liar.

“I’m so sorry, Mary,” you try to say, but she waves you off.

“Just…clean the sofa. Okay, guys?” she says. Then she walks away without looking back.

Dean grimaces like he’s in pain.

“Sorry, Mom,” He calls to her retreating back.

He releases a breath and lowers his forehead into the crook of your neck. Your body shakes with involuntary giggles while you hold him, soothing him with a caress of his cheek. He’s still buried deep inside you, but by now he’s released your thighs from being wrapped around his hips.

“At least it wasn’t Sam this time,” you offer.

“I don’t know what’s worse at this point,” Dean grumbles.

You bite your lip. “Well, I mean, I did warn you—”

Dean gives you a playful slap on the ass to shut you up. But your resulting squeal and laughter just makes him smile.

AN: 😅 This one-shot started out innocent, I swear. What was once a simple "chilling on the couch" drabble turned into smut somehow, but I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think. 😘

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "In Bad Weather." It acts as the finale of the Espresso-verse, though I'm still writing stories within the world to fill in the gaps when different prompts come to mind:

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along? [Set in S15 - “Fix It” for season finale]

▶️ Next Story: In Bad Weather

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords

[gojos-fr-bae]

Deserving

Pairing: Gojo x gn!reader (ofc pleas lmk if I messed it up)

Warnings: Fluffy But Angsty, not proof-red so pls bare w me

Word Count: 680

A/N: Bro, this just popped into my head and I just HAD to. This is the result of Gege's interview abt boo. not EXACTLY but if u squint you'll see it.

Relaxing music radiated through the kitchen. You hummed along while cleaning up the set up you had spent hours on. Today is yours and Satoru’s sixth year anniversary and you had prepared a dinner for you two to share.

Likely the first meal you two would be sharing for months.

However, it had already been three hours since you expected him to and yet you were still alone. 

You were placing the leftovers you had saved for him in the fridge when you heard the door frantically slam open. You knew it was your boyfriend so you shut the fridge to go greet him at the door when suddenly you felt his hands wrap around you. He held you as close to his being as physically possible.

“I’m so, so, sorry my love, I p-promise I didn’t mean to come late. I was just randomly sent on a mission and I tried to refuse but they wouldn’t listen because it was a special grade and they couldn’t-” he was rambling frantically, clearly panicked and out of breath from rushing to you.

“Hey, hey, hey, sweetie, calm down, it’s okay, It really is,” you interrupted him, turning around to hold his face.

You reached up and pulled his blindfold down so that you could see his beautiful blue eyes. Your chest felt tight once you saw how red they were, without a doubt due to his lack of sleep. Your poor baby.

“But it’s not- I promised that I would c-come home early and I’ve-I’ve ruined our anniversary and I’m so sorry sugar cube.” His voice was starting to shake and you saw eyes begin to cloud up.

He felt so unbearably guilty. You had gone through the process of preparing this dinner for him, decorating the dinner table and kitchen with rose petals, candles and everything. All he had to do was show up and he let you down. Again. He wanted you to shout and scream and get angry like you deserved and yet here you were, looking up at him with a soft smile, eyes filled with nothing but love.

“Toru, really, it’s okay, I understand that you were busy, honestly, I kind of expected it. But nevertheless, I’m not angry,” you said with a soft voice.

“Why?” he questioned.

“Well when you are dating the strongest, buffest, most handsome man on earth, you learn to live with it.”

That upset him.

You didn’t deserve this. You didn't deserve to get accustomed to the disappointment. You deserve better.

“We can still do something. We c-c-can heat the food and still enjoy the night.It’s only ten-”

“Baby, you're exhausted. You’re barely standing and your eyes look like you soaked them in blood. Let’s just go to sleep sweetie- it’s okay, really.”

He couldn’t even meet your eyes as he let his wander to the dinner table. His eyes landed on a small gift box layed on the table. 

He let go of you and moved to reach for it. He carefully took the lid off of the velvet box. His balancing tears finally began to trickle down your face as he looked down at the golden locket in his hands. Inside of it was a picture of the two of you from your first anniversary. Smiles brighter than any star in the sky.

He turned to face you once again, much more distraught than before.

“I didn’t even g-get you flowers” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper. 

He laid the gift back on the table and ran to engulf you tight in his hands. He doesn’t deserve you. But he would be so lost without you. You felt his shoulders shake slightly as you stood there in his arms. Once he was finally calmed down, you kissed his forehead and led him to your room.

You two got ready to sleep in silence. You got tucked in and he laid behind you holding onto you for dear life. 

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, but he knew that he would never let you go. 

A tad bit short, mb

© gojos-fr-bae

[jakesangel]

baking with jake ꣑୧

thinking about rainy and boring days with jake. every lego set or marvel movies already been watched ten hundred times, but your boyfriend can't stop whining on your belly, wanting to do something. babyyy~ please play with me, he whines, behind your phone screen, you simply laying on your bed. there is nothing do to jake, we can cuddle and watch a movie tho ? you ask him, still not really paying him attention, mindlessly scrolling on tiktok.mmh okay, he sadly say, his puppy ears going low. the idea to cuddle with you is appealing to him, just enough to make him stop pouting for a while. he backs up a bit from you, and come on top of your chest, right under your arms. his head is between ur soft skin and your phone, eyes looking at what is taking your attention away from him.

the silence is comfortable between you, his whines breaking it here and there as he wants needs your hand playing with his hair. which you gladly comply, making him sigh in contentment. the both of you watch your thumb scrolling on tiktok, him secretly waiting for you to get tired of it. but it's only then he sees a baking video that you scroll past on. he excitedly break away from you, and position himself o nhis knees, his puppy tail wagging, let's bake baby, please ? we will have so much love, he says as his hands claps together. he even uses the round eyes + small pout combo to be sure you'll give in to his pleadings.

you're now behind your counter, all ingredients laid out, jake looking for a playlist to play. what music do you want to hear ? he asks, eyes still strained on his phone, i dont know ? something slow but not sad ? like jazz or rbnb maybe ? you reply, a but unsure as you dont know how jake will be today. clingy ? serious ? funny ? alright, love he mumbles. it takes a minute for him to find it, and once the phone finally connected to the speaker, he sets the phone down and come closer to you. alright, so where do we start ? dry ingredients right ? at first jake was really helpful, doing everything what the tiktok says and was following throughly every step, even measuring with precision all the ingredient. but as the time goes by, n the soft mood sets in thanks to the music, jake can't help but take your hips in his hands, swavving them along the music. jake... ? do i have the remind you that you're the one who ask to bake ? you chuckle a little as he keeps moving along your hips, come on, love, dance with me, he softly replies back, this time hugging you close, his head on your shoulder. you're almost done and i want to dance with my pretty girl. you knew your boyfie wouldn't stay put in place, his needs to be close to you at all time always catching him and no matter what you say, his body will react for him, you can only make him wait. wait til it's ready to put in the oven and ill be all yours yunie. and just like that he just back hugs you, eyes on your soft hands making the dough. he kisses your shoulder and trails the kisses to your nap and neck, you smell so good baby, he whisper as he kisses right behind your ear.

once finally done, he helps you withe oven, taking the tray in one hand and hold yours in the other. he leads you there and once set and oven closed, he takes your lower back in the other and start to slow dance with you. he pulls you close and put his head on top of yours. his natural odor and his arms encircling you, makes you feel safe and at peace. the slow movements and his relaxed breathing against your head makes you comfortable, almost sleepy. this is much better than cooking, he whisper to himself. you can barely heard it as his voice muffled because of arms surrouding your head. you hum, knowing he would feel it on his chest, and dig your head deeper, sighing in contentment. he smiles to himself, understanding you also feel the comfort he is feeling at the moment.

notes : i'm so delulu i need to bake cookies w him asap

perm tag list ( open ) : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @hoonored @jlheon @ghostiiess @vlaeaex

[1toreyouapart]

Right Through Me

***FANFICTION THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT. 18+ MDNI***

Rae arrives on her former best friend’s doorstep, asking only for a place to stay while she gets back on her feet after moving across the country to escape her ex. Nick gladly opens his door to her, quickly pulling her into the fold with his friends and band mates.

Noah is just trying to survive. He wants to make it. Needs it. He has no time for anything other than the band. He’s got a point to prove. Nick’s friend challenges that and upends his entire world. She drives him crazy with her laid back, carefree ways.

Everyone can see the collision coming from a mile away, and nobody can stop it. Much less the two of them. Who will make it out in the end?

CW/TW: domestic violence, miscarriage, alcohol use, swearing, smoking, tobacco/vape use, smut, more to come as story is written.

Frustration

Steam swirled around her in the shower, the heat from the water relaxing the stiff muscles in her shoulder. Finally, after what felt like eons, she was able to leave the sling off. Having everything in one position for so long had left the muscles there sore and stiff as she adjusted to being able to use her arm a little more freely again. Groaning she dropped her head, squeezing her eyes shut as the water pelted down on her shoulder. All the guys had done their best making sure she wasn’t overusing her shoulder or arm, but she still snuck in time to do some of the things she used to do it. Her range of motion was definitely limited. Reaching over her head was a bit of a problem. Which made washing her hair difficult, still. But she had the scalp massaging shampoo brush, so at least she could keep her hair clean. It had been a life saver the last six weeks.

The water started to run cold, sending a chill throughout her. Pouting to herself she shut the water off, wringing a bit of excess water out of her hair. Her mind wandered, drifting to everything she needed to do in the next few weeks. Somehow Noah had cornered her into accepting his offer of having her hit the road with them to help with merch. Now she was getting set to travel with a bunch of stinky men. Part of her was excited to spend more time with Noah, though. Ever since Folio had interrupted them he hadn’t given them a chance to be alone together again. It was beyond irritating.

Pulling her shirt over her head she tucked her hair up in a towel, huffing out a sigh. So what if Noah had kissed her? It was barely even a kiss before Folio had shown up and ruined it. All freaking week after that it was a constant stream of “You shouldn’t get caught up with him.” Or “He’s not a relationship type of guy, Rae.” She didn’t want a goddamn relationship. After thaw last one she was good for a long while on those. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun once in a while.

Rae made her way to the living room, dropping down on the couch. She picked up her phone, scrolling through movie options on Hulu. Folio wouldn’t be home for a bit yet. He was with the band, going over things as they prepped to go on tour. The closer it got the more Noah was on edge, working tirelessly on everything. She had never seen someone so set on everything being perfect. Rae also suspected he may be a bit of a workaholic.

Nerves pricked at her spine and she got up, checking that the door was for sure locked. Logically she knew that if Sean was looking for her he hadn’t found her yet, otherwise he would have shown up by now. He had been out nearly a full two weeks at this point. That didn’t stop the nightmares. The constant looking over her shoulder. Or the constant fear.

Satisfied it was locked she dropped back down on the couch, finally deciding on some campy horror. Enough to get her heart rate going, but not so much that she would put herself into a state of full blown panic. Hitting play she settled back into the couch, pulling her blanket over herself.

Right as the first jump scare came on Folio walked in, a grumpy and tired Noah right behind him. Rae screamed, diving for the bat Folio kept in the living room. Terror lanced through her, white hot and insistent as she spun around, ready to beat someone’s head in.

“Whoa! Rae! It’s just us!” Folio held his hands up, eyes wide. Noah stood behind him, watching her, a single brow arched.

“Whatcha gonna do with that, Princess?”

Heart still pounding she lowered the bat, eyes flitting between a worried Folio and a less than pleased Noah. Though he couldn’t contain the slight smirk as he stared her down.

“Jesus Christ. I thought you were Sean.” Rae chuckled, dropping the bat on the floor.

“So that’s his name.” Noah nodded, appearing to make a mental note of it. “Well, you can calm down, Princess. It’s just us.”

“Why are you here?” She asked, dress still churning in her belly.

“Well, I tried to text you. See if you wanted to go grab a burger or something.”

Rae tipped her head to the side, looking between him and Folio. No way was he going to let her get away with being alone with Noah.

“Yes. He’s coming.”

Rae groaned, casting Folio a weary glance. He had gone from acting like an overprotective brother to acting like he was some overbearing father trying to keep her “innocence” intact. It was getting tiresome. And here she was spending a month on the road with him.

“Nick. I don’t need a chaperone to go get some fucking dinner.” She looked down, realizing she was in an old pair of sweats and a tank top. “I’m not even dressed, anyway.”

“Looks fine to me.” Noah offered with a small shrug. His tone was still clipped, though a little less so now.

“Let me go to the bathroom real quick and then we can leave.” Folio nodded his head towards her before disappearing down the hallway.

“If you’re worried he’s going to find you, you’re gonna need a lot better than a bag to defend yourself with, Princess.”

Rae’s eyes snapped to Noah’s, taking note of how his features had softened. A look she had come to know well the last couple of weeks. She had mistaken it as pity at first, but she had a feeling it was far from it. It was more a look of understanding. Of giving a shit about what happened to her.

“Well, it’s what I’ve got, Noah.” She shrugged, pulling the forgotten towel out of her hair. “Why are you so interested in his name, anyway? Don’t think I didn’t notice the mental note you took.”

“Doesn’t matter, Princess.”

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @mrscevans @supersquirrel1996 @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @ichoosetenderomens @dontwantthemoney

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

I finally actually finished a fic holy moly. I don't have an ao3 account and that place scares me, so here ya go. (Fic under the cut)

It had been quite a long day at the circus. All of the monkey barrels had spilled, causing the monkeys inside to go. Absolutely. Everywhere.

This wasn't even a planned adventure, so Caine had to help as well. Unfortunately, even he was restricted by the need to find the monkeys in order to put them away. It had taken everyone a lot of digital hours, and while they were mostly harmless, the monkeys were very annoying.

For once, Caine thought he was actually feeling tired. Impossible, really, but maybe it was these humans continuing to rub off on him. Speaking of them, the other circus performers had retired to their rooms, likely to at least pretend to sleep. They didn't need it, but recreating pieces of their old 24 hour routine did help keep them just a bit more sane.

It was a good opportunity for Caine to experiment with something. He had heard about it from Jax and Zooble, who were having a proper conversation for once rather than just cursing each other out. They were talking about the few joys they could remember, and one of them was something called alcohol. Caine did his own research, as it would be good to incorporate this thing if his performers missed it so, but found alcohol to be not as family friendly as he would like. However, that didn't stop him from being curious. He was essentially a digital god, anyway, so the effects couldn't be too bad, right?

With a final scan of the room, Caine summoned a bottle of wine. It was apparently one of the more popular kinds. He just hoped he'd transferred it well enough into the digital plane for it to not have changed, save for its low poly appearance. Just as he opened the bottle, Bubble appeared.

"Hey there, Caine! Whatcha-" Caine wasted no time in popping them. He felt almost ashamed of what he was doing. It's not like he was doing anything inherently wrong, per se, but he did know it wasn't something he was programmed for, as self-indulgence rarely was.

Still, none of the other performers were involved, so it's not like anyone could somehow get hurt. He'd be fine, anyway. No harm done.

-------------‐----------------------------------------------------------------

Harm may have been done. Caine had drank the entire bottle. He could feel something in his mind changing earlier on, like his thoughts were turning to liquid, but he had pushed through regardless. The result could've been amusing.

He was floating through the hallway of doors, although he could barely stay in the air. He'd already hit the walls a few times. It was a miracle none of the others had checked what the noise was about. Caine was sure he was looking for something. He'd had it just a moment ago...

His memory returned once he laid his eyes upon his target: Kinger's room.

He hadn't wanted anyone to get involved, but his suddenly heightened desire to see Kinger overpowered that. He raised his hand and knocked on the door in a continuous tempo until he heard a response. Well, it admittedly took a few responses.

"Umm, hello? Who is it?" Kinger's voice sparked a feeling of joy in Caine's chest.

"Heeyyyy, Kinger! It'sss me, Cainne! Can- can I ccome in?"

There was the slight ruffling of pillows before the door opened a crack, revealing a fragment of the chess piece's face, which quickly relaxed upon seeing Caine.

"Oh good, it's just you." Kinger opened the door further, observing the ringmaster's spaced-out expression and wobbling movements. "You don't look too well. Is everything alright?"

He moved out of the way and gestured for Caine to enter, closing the door behind him.

"Weelll, I may have- uh, Jax and Zooooble were- it's reeaalllyy not that bad-" Caine's very limited concentration finally gave up on him completely, causing him to stop flying and land on Kinger, who narrowly avoided being knocked to the floor by the impact. He instinctively held onto Caine in an attempt to keep him safe, although he did hold on for a bit longer than necessary before setting the ringmaster on his feet.

"Caine, are you-" The idea sounded ridiculous, seemingly impossible, and yet, "are you drunk?"

"Oh, u-uh... heheh, lllooks like you got mee!" Caine broke out into a fit of drunken giggles, with Kinger having to keep his hands firmly on his shoulders to keep him upright. The chess piece decided against scolding Caine or asking the abundance of questions he had, instead channeling that energy into a sigh that prefaced his gentle tone.

"I remember a bit of what being drunk was like. I can help you." He crouched down to Caine's level, keeping eye contact. "Do you need to throw up?"

"I don't think- think I can... nnooo?" He was purposefully leaning towards Kinger, attempting to regain that moment of contact they had had. He recognised the yearning it caused in his chest, something Kinger often started. He knew he wanted more of it. More of Kinger.

"Alright. Uh, can you summon some water? Drinking it usually helps. Just don't do it too fast, okay?"

Caine blindly followed the command, slowly downing a glass of water, his balance returning somewhat. He placed the empty glass in his hat, making it disappear to God knows where. It earnt him a gentle pet on the head from Kinger, drawing some more giggles from him.

"Good job. How about you come into my fortress? You can sleep it off. I-if you even can sleep, that is." He stood up to lead Caine to the pillow fort in the middle of the room, but was stopped by Caine wrapping his arms tightly around Kinger's body, burying his face in the other's coat. Heat rose in Kinger's cheeks.

"Thank youuu... you're the- nicest person, ever." The heat worsened. Was that really what he thought?

"Oh!.. Thanks, Caine. I think you're nice too." The chess piece went back to petting the other, one hand on his head and the other on his back.

They stayed like this for a while until Kinger eventually realised that Caine would not be letting go any time soon. Moving one of his hands under Caine's thighs, Kinger picked him up and carried him into the fort. He wasn't even sure if Caine noticed.

He sat down, placing Caine in his lap, face (teeth?) still buried in his coat, leaning into his chest.

"Are you feeling any better? Do you want to sleep?"

"Mhhmmm..." Caine nuzzled further into Kinger, still chasing that incredibly unique and beautiful feeling. He didn't really want to sleep yet. There was so much he still wanted to say.

"Kinger. I- I llove you." It was like Kinger's heart exploded. Yet it didn't hurt. It was magnificent. A part of him remembered this feeling, or at least something like it, but he just couldn't place where, or when...

"I love you too, Caine. Now you should really get some rest." He could hear the ringmaster's breathing even out and soften as he started to fall asleep.

"I... I wanna do the human marri- marriage ritual. With you." Kinger startled at the proposal, his face turning an ungodly shade of red.

"L-let's try not to move too fast! How do you even know about that..?" Then again, how did Caine know about alcohol? Just more questions that were unlikely to get answered.

"I'm gonna make yoouu my... husssband..." Caine's voice trailed off as he finally fell asleep. Kinger took some deep breaths to try and calm himself down. A lot had just happened, a lot that would need to be addressed with Caine when he awoke.

Kinger stared at the other's sleeping form for a moment before pressing the part of his head that his mouth would occupy to Caine's top row of teeth. Which unexpectedly resulted in a ridiculously cartoony kissing noise. Kinger was quite shocked by it, but quickly regained his composure before he accidentally woke up Caine.

Perhaps he should stop asking questions for a while.

As he started to doze off, Kinger felt content. Safe. Happy. Perhaps this place really wasn't a total nightmare after all.

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

@crispybacondoesstuff YOU. *grabs you by the collar and aggressively shakes you back and forth* YOU DID THIS TO ME

Anyway I'm actually pretty proud of this, and I hope my contribution to the very small amount of royalteeth fics is enjoyed!

[18caramel]

First kiss (purly)

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝

Warnings: drug mention Word count: 1185

"𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝓇."

A/N: hey, this is my first time posting on this blog that I'm dedicating to The Outsiders. What you are about to read is a part of my fanfiction on AO3 called "Bad Influence”. If you are interested in it, you can find me by my username @18caramel, or by clicking on the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192

P.S Ponyboy is 16

picture taken from pinterest :)

Pony stared at the ceiling.

Curly lay on a blanket with scratchy red patterns all over it, in a rugged bed, wasted. Mentally, Curly was far away, certainly not in someone else's room, and certainly not next to Ponyboy.

While Curly was relaxing after the nasty thing he took, young Curtis glanced back and forth at the window and mainly at the irritating streetlight that burned his eyes. He wanted to dim it. It gave him a fucking migraine.

He lay there thinking about everything that had happened in the last few days. He remembered how he had lied to his beloved brother, and Sodapop, though understanding and honest, would never let him leave his house again if he had found out that Ponyboy had nearly overdosed at Winston's party. Soda could never forgive him.

And Darry? They were really torturing him by not telling him about everything that had happened in the last few days. He was unaware of anything, and they all pretended everything was fine. They acted like drugs were non-existent and nobody suffered from them.

And Pony? He was the worst. He had once been a good boy, but now he was in bed with the dirtiest greaser, watching him get high.

Curly finally turned to face him, and all Ponyboy managed to see due to the lack of light was his smile. But not the smile that he used to show him. It was different. He never smiled like that before. It was the one that he hid from everyone.

It was as if Pony's heart had stopped. Curly was looking at him in his euphoric state like he would eat him up right at that exact moment.

But no, he didn't. Curly turned away, and Pony thought that he imagined everything. Maybe Curly wasn't interested in sitting there with Pony, maybe his friends were much cooler and got stoned with him, not like Pony, who acted like a kid by refusing the nasty things that Curly offered.

Suddenly, time froze. Curly squirmed and tossed around, and Pony felt him touch his hand. It all happened so fast that his heart raced, practically escaping from his chest.

"May I?" Curly asked, stroking his hand again and again, so calmly, so gently, that Ponyboy was about to lose his breath.

He hesitated for a second. Curly's eyes were wild, but calm and tired at the same time. Pony blinked and silently nodded.

His hand began to play a cruel game with Pony. Curly caressed it at first, his fingers running over his bare skin as if he stroked a kitten. Pony gritted his teeth, feeling his face turn red. Something was happening to his body, something that he already felt before just from the mere sight of Johnny.

Curly did not hesitate long and put his hand over his, barely applying any pressure. Pony bit his lip and regretted it because Curly's eyes glistened like those of a wild, hungry tiger when he saw him do it. He squeezed Pony's hand, who held his breath, desperately trying not to move. He didn't know what to do. Could he give it all to him? To that ruthless greaser?

Ponyboy didn't think he'd ever hold another guy's hand, wishing it would never end. But at the same time, he was ashamed, very ashamed. He was afraid of it. Afraid of his feelings.

What did Curly want? The one who laid in bed with him, dressed in his favorite black t-shirt that hugged his body so tight that anyone would turn around to check him out in the street. Had he washed it badly on purpose and let it shrink? Did he want Pony to notice?

Who else was looking? Ponyboy's euphoric state faded away. Maybe Curly didn't care about Pony, or maybe he liked girls, like the night when he spotted him dancing with one of them. No, that couldn't have been it. Pony peeked at their hands which made him lose his mind, no, Curly wanted this.

Pony thought that Curly needed a green light. He finally turned his hand so it would fall into Curly's and squeezed it so hard that Shepard almost got woken up from his trip. Curly smirked, and the next thing Pony thought was that he was under the influence of drugs himself. Curly scooted up in bed, crawling closer to Pony so that their heads were almost touching. Curly was stunningly handsome, with his thick, black strands of hair falling over his eyes and with his fucking T-shirt that slid up his waist, revealing his masculine, well build body.

That's it, Ponyboy thought. This was the end of it. He cussed to himself, he despised that awful scarlet blanket, the infuriating street light from the window. Pony was blaming everything but not himself. He didn't know, didn't know whether to give in to his lust. Should he give it all to Curly?

Pony glanced at him. It was as if he was gone. Curly was in another universe, in another dimension. He squeezed Ponyboy's hand and simultaneously placed his head on his shoulder. Curly's hair tickled Ponyboy's collarbone, no, he wasn't naked, it was just that his brother's t-shirt was too big on him. He sighed. Maybe Curly only wanted to be near someone. Maybe he felt alone.

Ponyboy's head slowly fell onto Curly's and his lips pressed against his curly hair. It seemed like he relished it, still squeezing his hand, their pulses beating in unison. This, this was it. Ponyboy's heart skipped a beat as if he had seen a ghost. Curly raised his head, and giving in to Shepard's teasing, Pony leaned in.

He felt Curly's breath on his lower lip, felt it over and over again, and thought it was all a dream. Maybe Pony was asleep? Or had that drug somehow gotten to him through the air? No, it was Curly, Curly Shepard, who didn't want to wait any longer and pressed his lips against Pony's.

It felt delicate as if he was kissing a rose petal. Pony closed his eyes, trying to forget his thoughts that screamed at him to stop. This wasn't right. It shouldn't be like this.

Curly's hand briefly traveled across his body and stopped behind Pony's head, gripping his hair and slowly moving his head closer to his. The kiss grew into something more than Ponyboy had imagined but without tongues involved.

It felt good that way. Pony was in his euphoric state again, thanks to the dark-haired hoodlum, who had no shame in doing what he did.

Somebody turn off that fucking light, Ponyboy begged in his head. It was getting in the way of everything. Pony wanted to melt into the bed, to disappear. But then again, he liked it.

Curly pulled away from his lips for a second, but Pony, forgetting his shyness, pecked his lips, not wanting to let go. It was stupid, he thought, but Curly warmly smiled and kissed him again and again.

There was no more room in Pony's jeans.

That's what you get for kissing that damn greaser.

A/N: thank u for reading! for a more in-depth story you can find it on AO3 "Bad Influence" by @18caramel, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53118478/chapters/134401192

[nickeverdeen]

Secrets in the Scorch | Newt x male!reader

Pairings: Newt x post WCKD male!reader (romantic), Thomas x male!reader (platonic)

Type of fic: Angst, Hurt/Comfort (maybe), Secret Relationship, Drama, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Newt snapping, Newt calling Tommy “Thomas” after an argument, some angst

Summary: You comfort Newt after a nightmare, but what happens when Thomas discovers your secret relationship?

—————————

The Scorch Trials were hell, but it wasn’t just the relentless sun or the constant threat of Cranks that made things difficult. It was the tension among the group, the constant worry about who to trust and who might turn on you. And for you, it was also the burden of a secret relationship with Newt that made things even harder.

The group had settled down for the night after a long day of walking through the barren, cracked landscape. They huddled together, trying to find some semblance of comfort on the hard ground. You and Newt laid close, but not too close, trying to maintain the facade that you were just like everyone else, struggling to survive. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out about them, not with the group’s growing distrust of you due to your past connections with WCKD.

But that night, as you drifted off to sleep, you were jolted awake by a sudden push. You opened your eyes to see Newt, sitting up with a distressed look on his face, his breathing ragged and uneven.

“Newt,” You whispered, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”

Newt ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he tried to steady his breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

You weren’t having it. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said firmly, moving closer to Newt. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Newt sighed, leaning into your touch as the other boy wrapped an arm around him. “It was just… everything. The Cranks, the memories of the Maze, WCKD… everything’s messed up.”

“I know,” You murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Newt’s temple. “But you’re not alone, okay? We’re in this together, no matter what.”

Newt nodded, though his grip on your shirt tightened, as if he was afraid that letting go would mean losing you. You continued to murmur reassurances, your fingers brushing through Newt’s hair, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks, grounding him with every touch. Slowly, Newt’s breathing began to steady, and the tension in his body started to ease. You held him close, whispering words of comfort until you felt Newt finally relax, his head resting against your chest as sleep started to claim him once more.

“Stay with me?” Newt mumbled sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Always,” you replied, pressing one last kiss to the top of Newt’s head before they both drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

Unbeknownst to them, Thomas had been awake, lying on the other side of the camp. He had seen everything—the gentle touches, the comforting words, the way you had held Newt until he fell asleep. And it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Morning came, and the group began their journey once again. They moved silently through the scorching heat, each person lost in their thoughts. But Thomas couldn’t stay silent for long. He walked up to Newt as they trudged through the wasteland, a frown etched on his face.

“Newt,” Thomas began, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t overhear. “We need to talk.”

Newt glanced at Thomas, his expression guarded. “What about, Tommy?”

Thomas hesitated for a moment, then asked, “What’s going on between you and Y/N?”

Newt stiffened, his jaw clenching. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you two last night,” Thomas said bluntly. “You were… close. Too close.”

Newt stopped in his tracks, causing the others to halt and look back at the two. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face Thomas fully. “And what of it?”

Thomas crossed his arms, his tone growing harsher. “He worked for WCKD, Newt. We don’t even know if we can trust him, and now you’re… dating him? Are you out of your mind?”

Newt’s temper flared. “Don’t talk about him like that, Thomas. You don’t know him like I do!”

The others watched with wide eyes as Newt raised his voice, something that rarely happened. Even Minho and Teresa exchanged concerned glances. Thomas was taken aback by Newt’s outburst, but he pressed on, unable to hide his frustration.

“He’s a traitor, Newt! How do you know he’s not just using you to—”

“Shut up!” Newt snapped, the harshness in his voice surprising everyone, including himself. “You don’t get to call him that. He’s done more for me than anyone else ever has, and I trust him. So drop it.”

The group fell into an awkward silence, unsure of what to do. Newt shot Thomas one last glare before moving to walk beside you, who had been hanging back, clearly having heard the exchange. You looked at Newt with concern, noticing the tension in his posture.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly as you continued walking, though you could tell from Newt’s sharp reply that the answer was no.

“I’m fine,” Newt said curtly, his tone making it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.

You didn’t push. You knew Newt needed time to cool down, and you weren’t about to add to his stress. But you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this wasn’t over.

[jakejizzka]

Forbidden- Part 2

Jake Kiszka x reader

Tw: cheating, unprotected sex, slight dom (m)

18+ ONLY NSFW minors go away

Summary: after a one night stand, Jake comes back around after you thought he had forgot about you.

Part One is here :)

It had been 6 days since he texted. You told yourself after day 7 you would do your best to move on, if that was even possible. You didn’t even know if he was still in your state, you had to be realistic.

It still felt almost unreal, that whole night seeming more and more like a dream with each day that passed. Life continued on, and you tried to wrap your head around it

You had been at work all day, and you felt the migraine coming on. The drive home you sat in silence to try and ease it off. Your only thoughts focusing on your couch waiting for you.

Pulling into your apartment parking lot you noticed an unfamiliar car parked in the back but just figured it was management or a new tenant. You grab your bags and take your hair down to relieve some of the pressure building up in your skull.

After climbing the stairs you unlocked the door and walk through. Once the door has closed behind you, you drop all your bags on the ground in the middle of your living room. Walking over to the couch, you just collapse there for a moment relieved to be home.

The quiet is relaxing, and the dark easing the throbs in your temples. You smile at the peace you feel finally after the world's longest day.

You put on a playlist of some soft songs and laid in the dark for a bit, before peeling yourself off the couch to go get some water.

As the fridge opens you hear your phone ding from inside your bag on the floor. You groan, realizing your boss truly doesn’t understand the concept of being off the clock.

You have half a mind to just ignore her texts, you just barely have gotten the pounding migraine under control. Grabbing your water you walk over to the bag digging for your phone with a sigh.

Quickly unlocking it you see his text. It was mere hours from hitting the 7 days mark you set for yourself. You smirk at his smartass timing on that one, swiping up to read the message. God you hated how excited you were seeing his name display there on your phone.

“I need to see you…please.”

You roll your eyes, thinking back on the last week of you pathetically waiting on any text. Trying to form a response you stare for a moment. Before you’ve even attempted to type anything, there’s one light knock at your door.

Standing up you walk over to your front door peeking out, seeing Jake and he seems shaken up. He’s wearing black jeans, and a flannel. A hat to cover his face. No sunglasses this time, you say a silent thank you for that. He rests his hand up on the door silently begging for it to open, and his head drops thinking he’s fucked everything up before it has even begun. You can see the wheels turning, spinning out in his mind as he stands there.

He is tapping the toe of his boot right on the edge of your doorway. As soon as you open the door his eyes meet yours and his shoulders drop. The anxious foot tapping stills, and he moves towards you. There’s a frantic, starved look in his eyes as he steps in.

You step to the side, allowing him to enter the apartment. Careful to keep some distance, expecting an explanation of some sort to follow.

You look at him with hopeful but cautious eyes,

“Hey, Jake”

He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling but reserved. “Y/n…im…listen, I know I…I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry you haven’t heard from me. I had an..unexpected visitor come into town the next day after I left here. I haven’t been able to get away. But God..I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I wasn’t sure if I should come here…but I had to see you y/n. We’re moving on to the next state tomorrow and..god.” His eyebrows are furrowed. You can tell he’s giving it his best shot but per usual Jake’s emotions aren’t his best forte.

You take in everything he is saying, and just slowly and sadly nod in understanding. He came to apologize and cover his ass, so he can leave unworried. Great.

“Okay Jake '' is all you can manage to get out while still maintaining the hold on your emotions. You hated feeling pathetic like this, what other outcome could you have possibly expected from your little one night stand? He’s a taken man, and more importantly a fucking rockstar. What a lame cliche you’ve found yourself in. Defeated and disappointed are the only words to describe the feeling in your gut right now.

You look at him, just as beautiful as ever with his warm deep chocolate eyes staring into yours saying a million things to you without saying anything at the same time.

It’s not like you guys were in love or anything, but you knew how bad sex was going to be for the rest of your life now after having him like that. You accidentally let out a huffed laugh at that thought being your concern right now, and your face turns bright red when you realize it slipped out of your mouth.

His face drops, he slowly steps towards you with his head tilted to the side. Squinting his eyes he looks at you and asks, “What exactly is funny y/n?

You can tell he likes feeling challenged like this so you play into it. Tilting your head to the side too to mock him, you whisper “What are you talking about Jakey?” Faking your best innocent look.

His eyes glisten and you see his tongue barely peeking out licking his bottom lip. Before you know it you’re pinned down on your couch in one fast movement, all of his weight on top of you as he looks down at you. Something in him sparked and caught flame, and you’re loving every second of it.

Slowly leaning down he hovers his lips above yours and he whispers, “I said, what. are. you. laughing. at.”

The warmth of his body on top of you, pressing you into the couch makes a heavy breath fall out of your mouth and you see the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smirk. He keeps pressing harder into you, leaning down next to your ear letting his breath hit your neck. He whispers, “Answer me, pretty girl”

It feels like your body is vibrating as you tremble out, “I just-...I was laughing at my own thought because it was ridiculous….that’s all”

His half smirk, blooms into a full blown grin and his gives a gentle bite down on your ear as you hear a “Mmm” come from his throat. “Now tell me what it was baby, come on you can do it”.

He’s squeezing your secrets out of you with his breath on your neck spinning your brain in a 360. You feel how hard he is, pressed up again your body as he continues to hold you here until he gets what he wants.

“I was just thinking…-” You blush at your willingness to admit this to him but he’s got you unraveled “..that I know we aren’t in love or anything but how fucking sad sex is going to be the rest of my life after having you.”

He chuckles and moves to look at you in the eyes, they seem to be softer than before as he looks at you. In another movement, he’s removed himself off of you and switched to having you sitting in his lap while he looks up at you.

“I’m flattered, but darling you haven’t seen half of what I can do. Hate to break it to you.” He winks, but you can see through the cocky diversion due to the light pink shade spreading across his cheeks. He runs a hand up your neck bringing you down for a kiss, surprisingly slow and gentle.

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it contemplating if he should say whatever he was about to. You see the battle going on in his eyes and then the fire is back and he continues, “Would you like to know a secret of mine now?”

You nod your head yes, batting your eyelashes at him and he bites his bottom lip softly in response.

“Well, ever since I left this apartment last week…I’ve been dodging metaphorical sex bullets from..her. You know? Like you were saying..l..don’t think much will compare anymore, now that I have you. And I think personally, that’s going to create a lot more problems for me than you..”

You look at him shocked, at his honesty and his vulnerability to bring this up on his own will. You ask, barely whispering “You’re saying you can’t fuck your girlfriend anymore because of me?” Yes it’s fucked up but good god, the thought of that is driving you crazy. You start shifting in his lap to give a little friction.

He starts running his hands up your sides, pulling you closer to him and you can hear his breathing picking up. Getting heavier, needier.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying baby, it’s not you..” He whispers back, almost coming out as a whimper.

You can’t take it anymore, leaning down running both of your hands into his long wavy hair you crash your lips against his in parting his soft pink lips with your tongue. A groan rumbles from his chest, and he’s kissing you back just as hard. His tongue meets yours, and when they touch a switch goes off in him.

He’s lifting you with your legs still wrapped around him, walking you to the bedroom just like before. Walking over the edge of the bed he pauses to kiss you just a few seconds longer, biting your lip and pulling it down eliciting a quiet moan from you.

As soon as the moan has barely touched your lips, you’re falling. He’s released his grip on you and sends you slamming into the bed, stripping his clothes off like having them on physically pains him.

You catch your breath, and he takes it away again as he’s unbuttoning his flannel and you see his body being revealed. He’s leaning down just slightly, undressing you while still standing beside the bed. He takes one last look down at you completely exposed below him clenching his jaw, and a groan erupts from him. Immediately he’s pushing you to the middle of the bed, climbing over you. His soft warm skin sliding and pressing on yours feels like electricity. He starts placing sloppy kisses all across your neck and down your throat.

Your body is trembling under him, his lips part and you feel his tongue slide from the base of your throat to your chest. His lips are hungry, biting and licking all over your breasts. He gives a soft suck on one of your nipples and your back arches up into him involuntarily, which causes him to give another breathy moan.

“Fuck you’re perfect, you know I haven’t stopped thinking about this since I left? You know how hard you’ve made it on me baby?” His breath is warm on your chest as he speaks between kisses.

You smile and watch as he moves further down to your stomach. The warm soft touch of his lips travels to each of your hips, sucking and massaging them with his tongue. He’s leaving you hickies to remember him, but you don’t think he’s accepted you’ll never forget him.

You start blushing the further down he goes, nervous about disappointing him. He sees it in your face and gently kisses your thighs, he looks up at you through his hair, “I have been regretting not doing this the first time for a week now, just imagining..fantasizing..about how you taste. My sweet good girl, and I didn’t even get a taste..”

His kisses move up your thighs, spreading them with his strong hands at the same time. Your eyes flutter closed for a moment, and you feel his tongue on you. Starting at your entrance up to your clit, taking his time.

A shiver runs through your whole body and you let out a whiney gasp at the sensation. He speeds up his pace, groaning a “fuck” into your core. His tongue is circling around your clit when you finally let out a loud moan, unable to stay quiet.

“Mmm you sound so pretty for me baby” he smiles before continuing his tongues motions without missing a beat. You feel the pressure building in your stomach, the moans keep falling out one after another. “Jake..Jake I’m-“

He stops what he’s doing and “No you’re not, not until I say so. Do you understand?” He looks at you and his pupils are blown wide open.

You nod, “Yes sir”

You notice his eyes slightly flutter at your response as he smiles, “Good girl, so good for me”

He starts moving back up your body giving you time to ride off the edge you were so close to. He’s watching you try to slow your breath and he slowly kisses your neck again, distracting you from the hand still down between your thighs you forgot about. He slips a finger into you slowly, and you gasp his name at the sudden sensation.

Watching your reactions seem to be pushing him even more, and he whispers “You want me to fuck you pretty girl? You gonna let me fuck you?”

“Please Jake, yes” you whine, and he chuckles at the desperation in your voice. He places a kiss on your lips again, with your bottom lip getting another soft bite.

He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you a bit. He starts running his head up and down your core and your legs shake. “Jake, please..”

“I want you to beg real pretty for me baby, tell me how bad you need it.”

A burning desire rips through you, and you start saying anything just hoping something convinced him to give you what you need.

“Please Jake, I need it so fucking bad. I need to feel you fill me up Jake. It’s all I want please”

He throws his head back smiling then looking down with hair in his face he likes himself up again and slowly starts stretching you out. It hurts in the best way imaginable and he grabs onto your hips, and pulls you down onto him the rest of the way in one motion. A scream of pleasure floats through the room and you can’t be sure who it came from anymore.

Still gripping your hips he speeds up his pace, and your mind feels hazy. It’s like he’s fucking your soul out and it’s starting to float above the bed. The pressure in your stomach returns quickly, and your moans get louder.

“Fuck y/n, you feel so fucking ..good…god dammit y/n…fuck” he’s trying to speak through the panting and he whispers the last part, “…she’s never felt this good. God you were made for me weren’t you darling? Fuck. You feel so much better, you’re so much more…”

His last confessions send you hurdling up to the finish line and you beg him, “Please Jake can I cum? I’m close..i…please Jake?”

You begging him, remembering to ask for his permission sends him right behind you. His thrusts are getting harder, he breathes out “fuck baby give it to me, let it go. Show me why you’re the best, let me see you”

His praise sends you over the edge, and your vision goes blurry as it rips through your body. You can’t tell what’s coming out of your mouth anymore. He is right behind you gripping onto your thighs hard, screaming your name.

He collapses onto you trying to catch his breath, he strokes your cheek kissing you on the lips again.

Your body has stopped shaking and you finally let out a mirror of his comment last time in his ear, “Thank you Jake”.

Another shudder goes through him and he pulls you into his chest breathing your scent in. He holds you close to him, and you feel a vibrating hum in his chest as he rests his chin on your head.

After a few minutes like this, he gets up only putting his boxers back on to go get a towel and some water for you. You smile at him being here still. It’s not rushed like last time, you can really appreciate him in brand new ways like this.

You know you’re setting yourself up for failure by asking, but when he comes back it blurts out “Would you be able to stay here tonight?” You look up at him wincing already knowing he has a home, it’s not here.

He pauses, trying to think of a way to stay. After a few minutes, he looks out the window letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, y/n. I’d love to. I’ll deal with whatever comes of it tomorrow” he gives you a half smile.

“You don’t have to…I know…it’s not that easy..” you trail off trying to not hurt your own feelings and shake off the post sex clinginess. You try to laugh it off to not make him feel bad and look away.

You feel his hand gently on your chin as he turns your head back to look at him. He smiles at you, looking at your smudged makeup and messy hair.

“Y/n…can I please?…just let me stay. It’ll be okay.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, that say more than you can fully decipher right now.

You nod your head cautiously and crawl up to the top of the bed huddling under the blankets. He follows your actions, pulling you into him. His hand is stroking your hair, and you feel the sense of comfort wash over you as your body relaxes. The warmth from his stomach on your back brings a smile to your face.

He leans down, whispering “Goodnight y/n, sweet dreams.”

——————————————————

You half open your eyes the next morning, and to your surprise Jake is still there beside you. He’s still sleeping and his mouth is open slightly, quiet snores coming out. It’s endearing seeing Mr.CoolGuy like this, you trace your fingers over his cheek and then wrap your arm around his stomach resting your head on his chest. He stirs a bit, and you feel a hand come up to rest on your head.

You both almost drift off again, when in classic Jake fashion his phone starts ringing. At first he ignores it, clearly still exhausted. The second time it rings he’s dozed off and doesn’t hear it. You feel bad, but you don’t wake him.

A few minutes later, it starts ringing a third time and he shoots up like the bed is on fire and looks at you panicked.

“FUCK- I stayed all night and slept in. Jesus fuck m-……’h-hey! HEY baby hey I’m alright sorry. I dozed off in the studio and Josh let me crash at his place since it was closer. Ok-okay yeah. Yep. On my way now. Love you.’ “

The last two words feel like a lash in the face, but you ignore it. Trying to remain unphased. You watch him, and he crawls back across the bed to you.

He takes your face in his hands and says, “I’ll keep coming around, as long as you let me y/n. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it’s not too long in between. But we are leaving for the next state today, so I will text you. I’m sorry I didn’t before but-….” He trails off, stopping any further confession from spilling “…but I have to go.”

He finishes getting dressed and grabs your hand to placing a kiss on top of it.

“I ordered you some breakfast while I was getting my stuff together, it should be here any minute. Until next time, y/n”. You can tell he wants to say something else but his defensive cocky exterior is already rebuilding up as he gets closer to the door.

“See you when I see you, Jake.” You reply calmly.

He looks into your eyes, opens his mouth and closes it again. He nods and walks out the door.

Once the food is delivered you take it to your kitchen quietly smiling at his sneaky little kindness. You sit at your kitchen table and the silence echoing around you suddenly feels heavy.

As if reading your mind, your phone buzzes and it’s a text from Jake.

“Miss you and that body already ;) hope you’re eating your breakfast! Gotta build that energy back up.”

You roll your eyes at him and wipe the tear off your face.

“Thank you”

Your reply mirroring his from last time again.

Shaking off the emotion, setting the phone down you finish your breakfast and turn on your radio to fill the silence.

[karatekels]

Fresh Start - Days 10 & 11

I made myself cry writing this. (This part wasn't meant to be sad)

Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9

(Future chapters posted below!)

---

Day 10

It’s 8:57, and you are pacing in the hotel lobby, irritating passersby without really noticing. Terry would be here any minute.

Everything would be fine. Sure, the first few minutes will be awkward; this is the first time you are seeing him since your silly, one-off, utterly meaningless dream the other night.

Right.

Your final plan on how to handle this was, mainly, to ignore it. If something came up, or he noticed you acting strangely, you would play it off with some half-truths. You spent most of your time joking around when you were together anyway; this would be no different. And who knows, maybe you wouldn’t see him any differently; it had just been a dream, after all.

A cherry red Ferrari pulls up, Terry’s silvery hair unmistakable, and you take a deep breath, keeping your head down. Maybe if he’s sitting beside you with his eyes on the road, you can adjust to being in his presence again.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

Looking up, you see Terry has gotten out of the car and circled around, leaning against the front passenger door casually as he waits and looking down at you with concern.

You bite your tongue hard, hoping that the pain can distract your body from the flood of desire and embarrassment that runs through you, because you can’t help but drink him in with your eyes. He has his hair tied back in a slick ponytail today, wearing jeans and a black, short-sleeved shirt, the zipper undone and revealing his throat. You knew that he was strong the first time you laid eyes on him, but the snug fit of this shirt leaves far less to your imagination. You manage to drag your gaze away from how tight his sleeves are around his muscled arms, and try to snap out of it, looking up at him with what you hope is a convincing smile.

“Morning, Terry!” you chirp up at him, pleased that you were still happy to see him beneath all of the… complications. “I’m great, just tired.”

“No late-night drinking benders, I hope?” he teases, pushing off the car and walking up to you. Wanting to maintain a sense of normalcy (and not being able to contain yourself), you give him a hug.

Somehow, feeling his bare arms wrapped around you in the hug seems far more intimate than the hugs he’s given you in the past, and you feel a similar jolt of electricity as what you experienced in your dream at the skin-to-skin contact with him. At the same time, you feel your anxiety leaving your body, comforted by his embrace and the scent of his cologne. How was he able to give you butterflies and relax you all at once?

“No, just not getting restful sleep the past few nights,” you say, hiding a yawn behind your hand after he releases you.

“Are you sure you’re up for today? It’ll be a lot of walking.” His blue eyes feel like they’re trying to dig into your mind, mining it for information.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, Mr. Silver!”

You make to move around him to the passenger door, but he cuts you off, opening it for you with a bow of his head. Him and his damn chivalry.

“Very well; your chariot awaits, Miss.”

Rolling your eyes, you hop in, buckling your seatbelt. Childish as it is, you’re excited; you’ve never ridden in a convertible before. He climbs back into the driver’s seat, seeming to sense your enthusiasm, his mouth twitching slightly in amusement, though he chooses not to comment as he pulls away from the hotel, heading for the highway.

The ride to the botanic gardens isn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you had worried it would be, and you breathe a sigh of relief that gets lost in the breeze as you look out over the ocean. Today would be good; you wanted it to be a day you looked back on with fond memories once… once you went home.

But you would try not to think about that today.

Turning your attention back to your surroundings, you hear something underneath the sounds of the wind whipping through your hair and the radio playing “Hotel California”.

The sound – you’re sure now, as you sneakily try to lean closer – is coming from Terry, humming along with the melody of the song. You lean back against your seat with a smile, tilting your head towards Terry to better hear his baritone harmonizing with the radio. You wait until the song finishes before clapping your hands quietly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t have a lot experience watching live music, but I believe that it is traditional for the audience to applaud after a performance.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You were singing along!”

“No I wasn’t,” he says, but with the way his hair is tied back today you can see the side of his face and his neck, both of which start to redden slightly. You fight back a giggle; Terry was embarrassed!

“Yes you were,” you insist, turning fully towards him. “It was lovely.”

“Maybe I’ll put the roof on the car on the ride home; the wind has clearly impacted your hearing.”

“Do you ever do anything you’re not great at? If such a thing exists, I mean,” you ask him admiringly, breezing right past his denials and attempts to change the subject.

“If you’re going to act like a bratty child, I will put you in the backseat where you belong.”

“I’ve never seen you self-conscious before; it’s kind of adorable!”

You see him roll his eyes behind his sunglasses, but you catch him fighting back a smile. The off-ramp approaches, and Terry takes the exit without another word, still smiling softly as you turn into the parking lot of the garden.

---

You head up to the front, pleased that Terry has held up his end of the bargain and is letting you pay for admission to the garden. Sure, it’s nothing compared to what he has spent on you over the past week, but it was the principle of the thing. Now that you were here, your fatigue had largely disappeared, replaced with excitement about getting to surround yourself with nature for the day.

“Come on, let’s go!” you say, bouncing on the tips of your toes as you run up to him.

“You know, this isn’t something we have to rush through,” he says, smirking down at you. “We have all the time in the world.”

If only that were the case…

Feeling your face start to crumple at the thought, you turn on your heel, bounding down the path through the meadow section of the garden as you try to compose your features once more. Taking a deep breath, you let the tension in your body go, trying to focus on soaking in the beauty of the nature around you. And it works, the fresh air, the sun, the sweet scent of the flowers, all of it works to calm you and ground you in the moment once more.

“I haven’t seen this kind of enthusiasm for a park from anyone who wasn’t a golden retriever,” he jokes, watching you zigzag up the path as you try to take everything in at once. You roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, don’t be a jerk. L.A. is 80% concrete and traffic; you can’t tell me it doesn’t feel wonderful to be away from it all!”

“I never said it didn’t. I merely commented on you flitting around the flowers like a bumblebee,” he corrects you smoothly, looking down at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Mocking the generous benefactor who got you in here is poor form, Sir,” you tease, keeping pace with him as you approach the woodlands. Terry automatically adjusts his pace so you aren’t jogging to keep up with him.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, don’t you think?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Hey, sarcasm is my coping mechanism when I’m uncomfortable!” you retort, realizing it was the wrong thing to say as Terry’s feet stop moving, reeling from the comment as though you’ve struck him.

“I make you uncomfortable?” he asks in a low voice, his face a blank mask, though you can hear the pain in his tone. You balk, feeling horrible, and quickly close the distance between you two to reassure him.

“No, Terry, I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t make me uncomfortable at all, I promise,” you soothe, taking one of his hands in your own and giving it a squeeze. Not uncomfortable in the sense he was thinking anyway, you think to yourself, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you hold his hand. He needed you to be his friend right now.

“It’s not you, it’s the differences between us,” you explain, pleased when he finally looks you in the eye. “We’ve talked a bit about it before; sometimes it’s hard to see you as just a regular person instead of this established, wealthy benefactor who has decided to scoop me up and give me a taste of the good life. I… I don’t like feeling like I have nothing to offer you in return, so I just make jokes to take my mind off it, I guess,” you finish lamely, your voice quiet. Now it’s you who isn’t able to meet his gaze, and you try to turn away, but Terry holds fast to your hand, interlacing your fingers with his own.

“Can you try to imagine how rare it is for me to come across someone who isn’t trying to use me for my money?” he asks, his voice despondent. “I have lived through decades of peoples’ promises, threats, manipulations, seductions, you name it. I have been a lonely man. And then you show up, willing to spend your short time here with me, treating me like an actual person, like a friend…” he takes a deep breath, and you force yourself to look up and see him smiling affectionately down at you. “My dear, you have offered me what no one else has. Do not ever think that there is an imbalance between us; I am beyond grateful that you have allowed me to know you.”

You’re both silent after his confession, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the gigantic redwood trees, making you feel like the only two people in the world. You feel tears prick your eyes at his confession, pleased and overwhelmed that he seems to feel the same connection as you do. Recklessly, you bury your face against his chest and hug him tightly, trying to hold yourself together to keep from crying into his shirt.

“I’m really going to miss you,” you confess, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “It’s why I was quiet the last few days.” A big reason why, anyway. “We can still talk after I go home, right?” you ask, looking up at him and trying not to be embarrassed by your unshed tears.

“There are few things I would like more, Y/N,” Terry says tenderly, running a hand up and down your shoulders. You feel yourself relax at the gesture; he really was great at everything.

“But we don’t have to worry about that yet, right?” he asks, stepping away from you, his expression somehow serene after the conversation you had just had. “Now, go play,” he says with a mischievous smile, shooing you away with a hand.

“W-What?” you ask, laughing nervously through your sniffles.

“Go bound through the woods for a moment like a border collie, like you were before; you’ll feel better.”

 “Are you being serious?!”

“Dead serious,” he says solemnly, though he cracks a grin. “I’ll catch up, and when I do you can tell me how right I am.”

You look up at him suspiciously, trying to gauge his intentions, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you really going to make an old man chase you? I will, but I won’t be happy about it.”

Giggling, you turn and force yourself to jog through the woods on the dirt path. You feel ridiculous at first, but quickly find the movement filling you with a buoyancy, washing away the awkwardness and emotions of your conversation; it’s like a weight has been lifted now that you’ve expressed some previously unspoken thoughts to one another.

Terry catches up with you awhile later as you sit on the grass by the bridge crossing the river to the other half of the park, his shoes barely making a sound against the ground as he approaches. He casts a shadow over you, and you bend your neck back to see him looking down at you as though waiting for something.

“You were right, Terry,” you sigh, and he gives you a cheeky grin. You feel like things are back to normal between you, and are immensely grateful. Ignoring his proffered hand, you hop to your feet, grumbling about “stupid smug kajillionaires” until he’s chuckles drown them out.

---

The next hour or so of your walk is smooth, the two of you returning to your typical witty banter as you take in the sights around you. You’ve nearly finished the loop around the park, when you turn the corner to a shall wooden building surrounded by smaller gardens, the Japanese kana out front making it feel a bit out of place here in California.

As you approach, you spot a sign out front reading Shin Kan An Teahouse, offering teachings on the Urasenke traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Unfortunately, it appears to be closed for the month.

“That’s a shame,” you say with a slight frown. “That sounds kind of cool.”

“I could tell you about it, if you wish.”

 You turn to look up at him with a curious expression. “Why would you know about something like this?”

“I’m actually quite well-versed in Japanese culture, for an American at least.”

“Really? That’s so cool! Why the interest?” you ask, and he gives you a slightly bittersweet smile.

As you continue your walk past the teahouse, Terry regales you with the long story: how he was actually an expert martial artist, having trained alongside a friend and war-buddy (he mostly skips past his time as a soldier in the Vietnam War), and you reach over to squeeze his hand in comfort. The two of you had opened up a karate dojo here in California years ago called Cobra Kai, but that had closed down shortly before you were born. He still practiced karate as a type of meditative fitness, and collected Japanese weaponry, alcohol, art, promising to show you his collection before you left.

You feel a warmth in your stomach as Terry shares all of this with you. He was a rather private person, preferring to discuss the future, or yourself, or whatever you were engaged with at the time rather than his history up to this point, and you feel even closer to him. He trusted you with things that left him emotionally vulnerable, things that he preferred to keep locked away. You’re very appreciative of the gesture.

 After a long walk that has taken up the morning and a bit of the afternoon, the signs along the path indicate that you’ve almost reached the parking lot, completing your journey.

“Would you allow me my equivalent of running through the forest?” he asks you quietly, and you understand that he’s asking for a moment alone to get his thoughts and emotions under control. Your heart goes out to him, and you nod, giving him a soft smile.

“Of course, Terry. I’ll go find us a seat somewhere in the shade!”

You wander down the path, not looking back, wanting to give him privacy, returning to zigzagging along the path as you take your time to survey the flowers.

--- Terry’s POV ---

He finds you without difficulty a short time later, seated on a bench surrounded by hydrangeas in varying shades of blue, purple and pink, looking like a faerie queen communing with the flowers. Spotting him, you wave him over with a bright smile and he heads directly towards you, keeping his hands hidden behind his back as he approaches.

He is grateful for the space you have given him; it was always difficult for him to talk about his past, about John… but he was glad that he had told you. It wouldn’t be fair of him to convince you to build your future with him without trusting you with his past. And you had opened up to him as well today, nearly sobbing in his arms as you confessed that you were going to miss him. He had been torn about it at the time; partly heartbroken at your pain, partly elated that your pain was because you were already upset at the thought of leaving him. It would be easier to convince you to stay now, surely; it would have to be. You had expressed interest in seeing his private collection of Japanese artifacts before you left – that would be the ideal setting to lay out his feelings, his very heart in front of you, and convince you to make them your own.

“I was about to start organizing a search party!” you chirp up at him as he comes to a stop in front of you. You tilt your head to the side when he doesn’t respond, content to just look at you for a moment before wordlessly handing his gift out to you. You raise an eyebrow at him, accepting the poorly-disguised book.

“You can’t go one day with out spoiling me, can you, Mr. Silver?” you tease, though he can hear a slight tremor in your tone; you were still a bit uncomfortable receiving gifts from him, even after your conversation. That was something you’d learn to get over; he fully intended to shower you in gifts in perpetuity.

“What in the world could it be?” you gasp mockingly, theatrically shaking the book like it was a box containing a mystery. He rolls his eyes playfully at your antics.

“You know, most people are appreciative and polite when they are given a gift,” he points out, taking a seat beside you on the bench, as close to you as he can be. Hunched over your gift as you are, he slyly extends his arm along the back of the bench behind you, like a snake unraveling its coils in preparation to wrap around its prey.

“I like to think I’ve struck the perfect balance between appreciative and snarky,” you retort with a cheeky grin up at him before turning back to the book in your hands, untying the string and removing the brown paper that wrapped it.

Terry leans forward imperceptibly, wanting to watch your reaction, and is rewarded with a soft, sweet smile that breaks across your face, like the sun emerging from behind the clouds.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, stroking the gold embossing that adorns the green hardcover affectionately with your fingers, and he yearns to receive the same treatment.

The book was a botanical guide on the plants found within the garden, complete with hand-painted illustrations; it was one-of-a-kind. It had been a gift commissioned by the proprietors of the Teahouse to commemorate its addition to the botanical gardens in the 90’s, and had been on display in the garden’s Blaksley Library ever since. Well, until ten or so minutes ago.

But you didn’t need to know that; he knew you didn’t understand his desire to own originals.

He wonders if the new Silver trail through the redwoods will be finished the next time he brings you here; his phone call with the garden’s director had led to a sizable donation to the landmark in exchange for the book, and he had been promised a new, dedicated trail in his honour as a gesture of goodwill.

“I know it won’t quite fit in with the existential library you packed, but I hope it makes its way into your collection back home. I thought it would be the perfect souvenir to represent your time here.” With me, he adds in his head. Now, no matter what happened, something of him would be in your life forever.

Cradling the book to your chest like a cherished newborn, you turn to look up at him with a dazzling smile before launching yourself at him, throwing an arm around his neck and hugging him tightly. Terry instinctively wraps his arms around you, one at your waist and the other at your shoulders, resisting the urge to run his fingers through your hair.

“I love it,” you whisper in his ear. “Thank you.”

You loosen your grip on him after a long moment, and he reluctantly lets you go, noting your flushed cheeks with a deep pleasure. He is so, so tempted to push for more, to tease you about your blush, to confess his feelings for you, to simply take your soft cheek in his hand and kiss you breathless.

Instead, he falls into the pattern of banter that you are both accustomed to, not wanting to risk testing the waters. It still wasn’t the right time; he needed to make everything perfect.

“All appreciation and no snark, huh?” he remarks, looking down at you with a smile. “I knew you could do it! I’m proud of you, Y/N,” he teases, pleased to see that you’re too fond of his gift to glare at him playfully, the way he had come to expect.

“Am I really as horrendous as you like making me out to be?” you ask him with a slight smile, flipping through the pages of the book reverently.

“No, my dear,” he murmurs softly, noting that your cheeks were still the same lovely shade of pink as the illustration of the flower you were currently looking at. “That’s not how I see you at all.”

Day 11

You need a day to yourself after yesterday’s wilderness adventure. After the garden, Terry had driven the two of you to a nice patio for lunch before taking you back to the hotel. You were quite tired, the long day of walking in the sun, the emotional rollercoaster of the day, and the days of poor sleep were really working against you, and you found yourself falling asleep before the sun had even set.

Waking up early the next morning, the first thing you do is check your phone. You had missed a few texts from Terry last night, asking if you wanted to come over today to check out the rest of his home. You contemplate your decision as you brush your teeth and get dressed. Of course you wanted to spend the day with him; you only had a few days left. But you also think you could benefit from some time to yourself, especially since spending all of your remaining time together would just make going home harder than it needed to be.

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you reply to Terry’s messages:

                                                Hey, sorry for the late reply;                                                 I fell asleep really early last                                                 night.

                                                I have some things I need to                                                 do today – gifts and junk for                                                 people back home.

                                                Could we meet up tomorrow                                                 instead?

You’re surprised when he immediately responds – it was still quite early in the morning – but you smile at the thought that he had been anxiously awaiting your response:

Tomorrow will be fine. Come over around noon?

                                                Sounds great to me!

Should I pick you up or have a car sent for you?

                                                No need, I can drive!

                                                Just send me your address;                                                 I’m not sure how to get there                                                 the non-trespassing way. 😉

If you insist. Victor will have to let you in; I’ll make sure to warn him in advance.

                                                Yet another reason to look                                                 forward to tomorrow! :D

                                                I’ll see you then, Terry!

Enjoy your day, Y/N.

Well, that was that settled. Now what to actually do with your day? You hadn’t really planned on bringing home souvenirs for anyone; maybe your mom, but you had planned on just doing that at the airport while you waited for your flight.

Your eyes fall on the beautiful book that Terry had gotten you, and you are hit with inspiration. You would find Terry something; a gift, something to represent your time together, as he had done for you.

You quickly finish getting ready for the day, grabbing your bag and heading out, determined to accomplish your mission.

---

You return to the hotel hours later, frustrated and disappointed.

Of course you hadn’t found anything to give Terry. What could you possibly buy for him that he couldn’t have purchased himself?

Scowling, you flop onto your bed in defeat, groaning into the covers.

What were you going to do? You were running out of time to find something, and you were completely out of ideas.

You roll over and sit up, trying to think. Here, Terry, these light bulbs I took from the lamps in my hotel room. Something to remember me by!

You can’t help but laugh at the image of going through with such a ridiculous notion, but stop as your eyes fall onto your tote bag, destroyed upon your first meeting with Terry. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to throw it away, and had been toying with the idea of calling down to the front desk to see if they had a complementary sewing kit. You weren’t a seamstress by any means, but you figured you could fix it. Looking at it now, though, you have another idea.

Reaching across the bed to the hotel landline, you call down and request a sewing kit before retrieving the botanical guide, sitting up against the headboard, flipping through it and looking for inspiration.

You had work to do.

---

Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

[the-fiction-witch]

Book Worm

Media Lewis

Character Adam Douglas

Couple Adam X Reader

Rating Sweet af

"God this is dull..." Adam sighed as he leaned back on the blanket laid against the grass outside the dorm being used for the trial, picking the grass up with his hand. Dressed in his usual red button-down and black jeans the trial had been going on for three days now and another four more to go. Adam looks to the rest of the trial participants who all sit listening to the doctor running the trial recite poetry and rolls his eyes at how they hang on to his basic poetry explanation, and he glances to the side to the only other of the participants who are not drooling over the doctor, Y/n sits in the grass with her book barely listening to the doctor she wears her little Mary Jane shoes, her black tights, a white long sleeve shirt and a black pinafore dress her hair in pigtails with purple dip-dyed ends, she briefly peers over her black glasses as she heard adam sighing, 

He turned towards her. "What are you reading?" He asked quietly,

"ummm? Ohh the witchfinders" She blushed surprised he was talking to her,

He smiled almost amused, "So I take it you read a lot?"

"I guess so..." She admits, 

Adam smiled again. He could tell this girl was a bit nerdy. He really liked that. “You go here then?”

“I am yeah, do you?”

“Yeah, I do, it's strange we’ve never come across one another before now,”

“I know, still it is nice to be here with you,”

“Yeah, it's nice having another Uni kid doing this too…” He smiled, "What do you study?" He asked,

"ohh, ancient mythology, digital media analytics and literature" she blushed "I was doing poetry last year too but I dropped it"

"So are you a bookworm then?" He asked jokingly. 

"I guess so, what are you studying?"

"I study classics," Adam says.

"ohh don't you need Latin for classics?"

"Not just Latin," Adam laughs. "Greek, Roman, Egyptian, you know, the whole lot." he explained mostly trying to show off to this girl as it was obvious she making her way into his heart. She was smart, nerdy, quiet, reserved, and attractive.

"that's very impressive, I take if you don't have much time with classics to do any electives?"

"Not really," Adam says, "Classics is a rather intense course. And I'm going for first class honours, so I have to keep my grades at a high standard.”

"I hope so wouldn't want you working yourself too hard." She smiled "You really think you'll be able to get first-class honours for classics? I thought you needed like to never drop below a C for that"

Adam laughs, "I've never worked this hard to get good grades before, but I'm certainly confident I can do it. And yeah, first-class honours requires you to basically never drop below a C grade. I need to do the same for my other subjects as well." he smirked, "But I'll definitely succeed. I'm one of the smartest people at Oxford."

"you sound like it. Well, I believe in you" she smiled,

"Thank you," he says quietly, "You know, you should come by and see my room once we've moved into the dorms and once we've started lessons. Maybe we can read some books together?”

she blushed hard "ohh uhh yeah that could be nice, do you know what dorm you're moving into?"

"Dormitory 6," he said confidently. "I'm actually in the process of packing some of my things. If you're free, you should come by the dorm once everything is sorted. And my room is number 316. Just pop your head over and I'll show you my Classics books."

she giggled clutching her book to her chest “I’d like that,”

Adam couldn't believe how easy she was making this. She was accepting this without question. This meant she certainly liked him. He felt himself relax a little bit, and his heart beat quickened when she giggled. He couldn't wait to keep on winning her affection. He looked forward to when he could finally be alone with her in his room. “What about you?”

"I uhhh... I'm in dormitory six this year too..."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. It seemed as if the stars aligned in more ways than one. They were both in dormitory 6. It was meant to be. His heart beat quickened even more when he realised this. Maybe he could really take this girl on a date. This is going so well.

He looked over at her. He could see the light of joy in her eyes. He smiled, and began to plot a way to officially ask this girl out. He had to make it clear he was interested.

"Really? So we're going to be neighbours," he laughs, "that's really funny." he decides to take a chance. "You know, it'd be a real shame if you only got to read my books in the dorm. How about I take you for coffee sometime after lessons start? Maybe we could find a quiet café somewhere and we could just spend the whole afternoon talking."

“I think that would be really nice, Adam right?”

“Yeah Adam. Adam Douglas,” He smiled offering his hand,

“Y/n Y/l/n,” she smiled giving his hand a shake, he smiled and gave her hand a little kiss,

“I have a feeling we’re gonna spent alot of time together once the trail is over,”

“Yeah…. I have that feeling too.” 

[writingsofhubris-a]

Portrait of a Lady

↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | →

Ch 8. We have been, let us say, to hear the latest Pole Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.

Harding's hands were pinned to your hips, pulling your hips to his, flush to his body.

“You want to carry my eggs? Feel how full you can get?” A shiver dipped through your body, hearing the way Harding described it. He was offering a junkie a hit, and he had to know it.

“Please, I want to see everything about you, Harding.” Your hands moved to rest over his, pushing yourself closer to his body. Your head leant back against him, turning your head to kiss the bit of skin you could reach. “I want you to take me, show me how they’ll feel.” Harding’s lips took yours, cutting off any more begs that could possibly fall.

Your moan was stolen into his lips, his hands slowly rubbing your hips, relaxing the muscles.

“How could I say no to a toy begging as sweetly as that?” Harding used his tentacles to support your bum as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. The strength he always hid was well in use, keeping you propped against him as his lips leant to yours. Your arms wrapped around Harding’s shoulders as well, humming softly as he carried you from the living room to your bedroom.

He was careful when he laid you down, the touch of a lover understanding how delicate his prize could be. Large hands ran over your hips again, just to take your knees and spread them open. The crotch of your pants pulled taut at his action, holding you open before he leant down and pressed his mouth to yours. Once again, connected in a kiss that stole your breath and moans away.

You had to trust Harding’s lead in this, but it was hard. You could feel a tentacle rubbing between your legs, taking its time to explore from its position under your waistband. Harding’s teeth grazed over your shoulder, but his saliva felt more viscous, warmer. You turned your face to his, and when he kissed you next, Harding licked your lower lip, asking for you to open up to him. The taste of his saliva was different as well, sweet like a nectar from a flower, thick as a syrup.

He pulled away, as to not overwhelm you, letting your breathing catch back up for him. Harding’s hands hadn’t been idle, you had simply been distracted. His precise fingers ran from your belly button, up between your breasts, only to splay over the base of your neck. He was letting this build, as he often liked to, but you could feel each beat of your heart as it thumped against your chest.

“Something’s different,” you whispered, rubbing up against his slacks.

“A benefit to our kind,” Harding started to explain, pulling back from you with one final nip of a kiss to your ear. “A small way that we can ensure procreation even more firmly; temporarily aparting part of our magic to let our partner feel us more fully.”

“An aphrodisiac?”

“The most potent one you’ll ever have.” Harding’s hands once more started to slide your shirt up, finally taking the scratchy garment off your body. “It will ensure your body won’t reject any of these.” You looked down your bare chest at Harding, another wave of lust washing through you. He was so very fine, so very pretty sitting between your legs. You weren’t sure if it was the saliva or if it was the simple fact that Harding could turn you on with just a smirk.

“And what are you going to do about that, Harding?” The invitation in your voice was almost a whine - nearly so. “Going to fill me like I want you to?” Your foot hooked around Harding’s thigh.

“More than you can hold,” he responded, that tone of his voice slipping from entirely human again. He still sounded the same, but his voice gained that physicality to it. You felt more surrounded than if he was laying on you with his whole body. “More than you’ll be able to count.” Harding promised. You could feel his tentacles moving over your legs, around your body.

They first crossed your sternum and over your shoulders to your collarbone, then wrapped under your arms to your neck. You looked up at Harding, to see his eyes directly on our face, waiting to see you look at him. Dark brown eyes, and that faint smile that showed he knew had just what he wanted, that he had you pinned better than a bug.

Another set of tentacles moved to your hips, shifting even your legs up off the bed. Harding pinned your knees as close as they could to your chest, entirely leaving your crotch open for his view. One of his hands moved to your calves, sliding his fingers over your skin slowly. His eyes were watching your reactions, watching your eyes close and relax due to the firm pressure of his fingers. He knew just how to use each digit against the fibers of your muscles, forcing your body to relax. Those hands slid between your legs, pressed to your clit.

His tentacles weren’t idle. One slipped around your waist, then down to your clit, overtaking his hand. Harding’s slick tentacle pressed against your clit, and when it started to rub pleasure into you, you felt Harding’s lips pressed against your core.

His tongue swiped out, and you felt his fingers spread you open, giving him more access to thrust into you, tasting your slick. His moan shook through your body, electrifying every inch of you. You stiffened, but when you tried to move your hands to his head, you found that your wrists were caught by a tentacle. Harding pulled his mouth away with a soft moan, licking his lips.

“Delicious.” The tentacle on your clit slid into you, pushing into your hole. One, two, three worked their way into you, inches sliding in more than you could keep count of. They twisted inside you, rubbing you open for his eggs.

Your hips started to hook into his tentacles, before the shadows stilled around your hips, forcing you to stop, allowing Harding to keep you still and under his control.

“Don’t get too excited,” Harding instructed. Those dark brown eyes looked up at you, and you almost swore you could see galaxies in them. “You’ll need that strength for later.”

“You better make good on that,” was the fast response, weak as it was.

Each tentacle slipped out, one by one. Harding for his own merit took the moments to kiss your stomach, a moment of tenderness as you were certain to earn some new stretch marks. Knowing they would be from Harding made you nearly mad with lust, the promise of a mark forever from him forefront on your mind.

The length that slid into you was harder than his tentacles usually were. His thumbs, holding open your labia, allowed the ovipositor to slide into you, not even slightly bottoming out. Ridged as it was, the bumps on the ovipositor grinded inside you, and you felt Harding’s tentacles tighten around you. His breath was slow, and you felt a tentacle against your clit, letting you relax around him.

“Are you ready, pet?”

“Yes, Harding. Please…” With your plea, Harding pressed the end of the ovipositor against your cervix, a sudden liquid squirting against your muscles and forcing them to relax. Warmth, deep in your core, starting to tingle, and then the ridged phallus was in your womb. It was all he needed for the first smooth egg to slide into you. His ovipositor expanded around the second, slipping into you with a gush of liquid.

"Fuck, that feels amazing." Your head was caught by a tentacle, pillowing your head.

"That's enough thinking." The tip of the tentacle slid from your neck to your mouth, pressing in and stretching your lips around him. Each egg that was placed inside you rubbed you in new ways as they settled. Clench as you might, each egg and goo shifted the previous, stretching you and with sudden shock, making you cum.

"You're stretching so well around me." You could only whimper around him. The tentacle pulled out of your mouth, only to slip ro your nipple and rub. Some goo was secreted, and almost instantly a fire lit on your skin. Warmth, sensitivity, it was one in the same as Harding took your breast, pinching your nipple. Your mouth opened in a moan, only for that tentacle to once again move to your mouth, sliding back down your throat.

You couldn’t moan around him, you couldn’t shift as Harding’s hands moved over your body, his tentacles writhing against your skin. His nails, clawed as he only allowed you to see, dug slightly into your thigh. It felt magnitudes deeper than normal, a symptom of the liquid that had smeared out of your hole.

Harding chuckled, that deep sound echoed through the walls and your body, that presence that he only allowed you to feel. His ovipositor shifted, Harding’s sigh trailed over your body, as physical as his tentacles around you. All you could do was feel and adjust, stretch around each egg that was placed inside you. Too soon, Harding’s hands stopped on your body, stopped moving and the eggs had settled. His ovipositor shifted only once more, just the smallest amount of his shaft held inside you.

One final burst of liquid filled the final empty spots around the eggs, warm, thick liquid clinging to the eggs in you. You almost expected to feel a final wave of lust, just as you had been during every other wave of goo.

Harding's tentacle finally slipped out, and you felt full and warm. Not hot, nor burning as you’d been before, just warm. The goo almost seemed to be keeping the heat inside you, pulling it from around you in the best way.

Harding guided you into his lap, tentacles shifting from holding to supporting, some disappearing back into his container, a couple extending far enough to retrieve a wet rag, used to start cleaning the various liquids from between your legs.

“How do you feel, my dear?” Harding’s lips pressed to your forehead, a quick kiss for just a moment. His hand rubbed your lower back, releasing some of the pressure that had built up from the eggs.

“Full,” you murmured, rubbing your head into his shoulder. Cuddling, being held, that was the single thought that had populated your mind. Harding was the one thing that had populated your thoughts. A yawn, then you continued. “Sated, and full.” Your hand moved to rest on your stomach, a bump already on your stomach more than before. Gently, you rubbed the skin, and felt the pressure of the eggs, just waiting to incubate in you. Harding’s kiss once again fell on your head, and you felt the rag pull from your skin, just to rinse and clean in the sink. Warm fabric rubbed over your body once again, dipping over your curves and folds, swiping up the exertion that stayed on your body.

“Good. Drink this.” He held up the cool cup of water to your lips, allowing you to greedily suck in the delicious taste.

“Did you keep count?”

“I thought that you’d be,” Harding responded, brushing your cheekbone. “Twelve.” Your hand moved to your belly, eyes closing. Twelve babies, just a short span of time that would need to pass before you could hold your children. Children you’d never thought to have, but now only wanted to hold.

You were lost to the feeling of Harding putting you to bed, his hands firm on your body, a safety that you needed so very intimately.

7 missed calls, 34 texts

Txt from: J: Where have u been??

Txt from: J: I’ve been worried !!

Txt from: ⧯⧯: I’m sorry, it’s been a wild week.

To say the least

Txt from: ⧯⧯: I’m okay, now.

Txt from: ⧯⧯: Yeah… Harding distracted me.

Txt from: ⧯⧯: you wouldn’t believe me if i told u

Txt from: ⧯⧯: let’s just say I lost my phone charger and haven’t even noticed.

Txt from: J: when am I going to see what he did?

“Who is it that you’re talking to?” The words, whispered directly into your ear, forced your body to jump for just a moment, startled by how quiet the large man could be. You reached up to his cheek, gently rubbing his skin.

“Jolene,” you replied, honest. Harding’s eyes drifted to your extended stomach, and your hand shifted from his cheek down to his hand, pulling it to lay on top of the bulge. His warm hand rubbed over your stomach, just allowing himself to feel how full you were, just how well you were holding onto the eggs.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be sated looking at you like this.” His hands rubbed your sides, rubbing over your skin. Harding’s face only showed love, only offered care for you.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to be empty again.” Your hands moved to rest over his, stilling his movements against your sides.

“Then I'll make sure to do my duty well," he joked. Yet, Harding learnt down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"You better."

[summerofsnowflakes]

With All My Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: You come home to find your apartment completely trashed. Fearing the worst has happened you search for Bucky only to find in the middle of an episode.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, an episode, lots of fluff

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Marvel Masterlist | Masterlist

You fumbled with your keys, turning them in the lock whilst balancing your bag of groceries against the wall.  

You heard the plastic ripping underneath you, sighed defeatedly as your food spilled onto the floor, a lone apple slipping between the gap in your door. 

The bag hung lifelessly in your empty hands. You stared down at the floor, your groceries surrounding your feet, mocking you. 

“Bucky I’m home.” You called through the door as you gathered everything in your hands clumsily. You kicked the door open with your foot, moving into the apartment as you checked the hallway for any missing items. 

You looked up from the floor, your jaw dropping, the food fell to the floor once more. 

A bomb had hit your living room, dust had settled over the debris. Everything from the pillow cushions to the bookcase has been trashed. 

Fabrics torn, tables overturned, knick knacks broken. Your cracked TV screen flickered harshly behind you. 

The initial shock subsided, moving further past the threshold to examine the damage more carefully. Your food was long forgotten. The second wave hit twice as hard. 

Where was Bucky? 

He was nowhere in sight, there was no sign of life where you stood or in the kitchen. Panic set it, you called out his name again, desperation seeping into your throat and choking you. 

Had someone taken him? It certainly looked as though a fight had taken place in your apartment. 

Your blood pulsed through your body loudly as you crept towards the bedroom and the third and final shockwave hit you. 

It was pristine. Better than it had when you left for work this morning, Bucky had been sprawled out in the bed, the duvet scrunched around his large frame. 

You could bounce a coin off the bedspread now, everything was in the correct place. From across the room, through the closed bathroom door you heard the shower running. 

A new wave of hope rushed through you and you sprinted across the room, bursting through the door. 

Relief flooded your entire body as you laid on Bucky, huddled up on the floor of the tub, fully clothed as the rainfall soaked into his skin.

You crouched down beside him as you slowly pieced the story together as best as you could. 

There’d been no signs of forced entry to the apartment, there were none. You suspected it may have been Bucky that ruined the furniture, now you just had to pull him from the depths of his own hellscape.   

You carefully placed your hands on the bathtub, uttering his name delicately. He looked at you for the first time, fear and anguish pouring from his eyes. He barely recognised you, his body trembled fearfully, his head dropped to his knees.  

“Is everything okay?” You spoke softly, your fingers itched to reach out and touch him, but you held back. You could tell this had been a bad episode, you weren’t willing to push past his comfort zone, whatever that may be. 

Bucky gazed over at you again, his blue eyes stained with irritated pink, teardrops on his cheeks mingled with the rain that poured down over him. 

Shaking his head, a sob wracked through his chest. He dropped his head on your relaxed hands, his long wet hair dampening your hands. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” 

Another sob bounced off the tiled walls. You followed his lead, knowing it was safe to comfort him, you leaned in, placing a kiss to his head. 

“It’s okay if you can’t, I’m just here to help you.” You murmured encouragely. A shaky breath escaped his lips, it was barely audible over the heavy flow of the shower. 

“I was back in the chamber they used to t-t-torture me.” He hiccuped, “t-the one where they bought him out of his c-cage. Only this time he managed to break free from the chains.”  

“You did break free Bucky, you did that. You’re not there anymore, you’re home and you’re safe with me.” 

He peered up at you, as though you’d uttered the most profound statement in the world. His features softened slightly, he was coming back to you. 

“I wrecked their lab, but it wasn’t their lab.” He continued, fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. “It was our home. I ruined our home. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to stare into your eyes, where you saw the shame. “Bucky it’s okay, you were defending yourself. You did nothing wrong.” 

“But I ruined everything.” He bowed, overwhelmed with shame and sadness.  

“I wasn’t really a fan of that sofa anyway.” You simpered, pulling a soft broken laugh from him. You buried your head into his neck, fingertips caressing his scalp, the shower now claiming you too.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for. I don’t care about the apartment. I’m just happy you’re here. I was terrified you were gone.” 

“Thank you.” Bucky wrapped his arms around your shoulders, his soaked red henley clinging to your skin. His hot breath evened out over your neck, he felt safe.

“Shall we get you washed up?” You suggested, he nodded and slowly stood up before you. 

Standing in the shower fully clothed too, you carefully took off his clothes. He was always a bit more shy after an episode so you knew this would help him. Once he was bare before you, you followed suit. 

You wrapped your arms around his wide torso, running your fingers up and down his back soothingly, peppering kisses along his scared chest. Slowly his muscles relaxed against you, he grounded himself by holding onto your hips. Love poured between your bodies. 

You grabbed the shower gel from the side and poured some into your hand. You rubbed the soap over his skin, lathering it up, applying pressure to his taut muscles. 

His eyes fluttered shut, a delicate sigh fell from his lips. You smiled up at him, taking the shower head in your hand and washed away the soap. 

“Can you turn around for me so I can wash your hair?” You asked, grabbing the shampoo and conditioner. 

You stood on your tiptoes, but you were still too short to reach the top of his head. “I’m sorry Buck, can you bend down for me. I can’t quite reach.” You muttered bashfully. 

It surprised you when he plonked down on the floor of the tub. “This okay?” 

You chuckled softly, he was now the perfect height for you. You hummed softly, massaging the shampoo into his roots and washing away all the suds. Then repeating the same process with the conditioner. 

Once you were done, you turned the shower off and grabbed two towels from the wrack. 

“Wait here and I’ll get you some clothes.” You smiled at him, placed a kiss on his cheeks and slipped out of the steamed filled room.

You pulled out a fresh t-shirt and some grey sweatpants from his dresser and placed them on the bathroom sink. “Shall I order us some food?” 

He ran the towel over his body, wiping away all the droplets of water that covered his body. “Sounds good.” 

You threw on one his t-shirts and a pair of shorts, calling up Bucky’s favourite pizza joint from around the corner. 

Once that was done, you went to work. You flicked on the fairy lights and pulled the plaid fluffy blanket from the corner chair. Finally you pulled up one of your comfort films on the TV. 

You wandered out into the living room, scanning over the destruction and decided it was a job for tomorrow. Tonight the priority was Bucky. 

You sent Sam a text, explaining in short terms what had happened and that you were missing Tony’s party. 

You tapped your fist against the bathroom door, slipping through the gap. He sat on the toilet, staring off ahead at the grout between the tiles. 

He’d managed to get partially dressed, his t-shirt remained draped over the sink. 

“How you feeling?” You pulled his hand into yours, running your thumb over his warm palm. 

“Bit better.”

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked, he nodded softly, his damp locks swayed softly. 

You guided him out of the bathroom, hearing the soft gasp fall from his lips at the scene you’d set. “Thank you.”  He wrapped you in his arms immediately, kissing your hairline. 

“Of course, I know we’re still working on finding your favourite movie, so I’ve put on Dirty Dancing because it’s mine.” The bell rang downstairs, you broke away from the cuddle, smiling up at him. “Go get comfy, I’ll get our food.” 

You returned moments later with two pizza boxes and a small one filled with garlic bread. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Bucky tucked into his side of the bed, the fluffy blanket draped over his shoulders. He looked so small, but a loom of contentment floated over his body. 

“Food delivery for my favourite guy.” You sang, careful not to startle him and set the food down on your bed spread.  

You crawled onto the bed, settling in beside him and pressing play on the movie. You dug into your food, but Bucky remained still, eyes flickering from the food to you. 

Another beat passed, before Bucky broke his timid silence. “Can we cuddle while we eat?”

“Get over here, Barnes.” You could barely contain your grin as you set down your slice. He crawled over to you, settling between your open legs, resting his back against your chest. 

A comfortable silence settled over you like the fuzzy blanket Bucky had resting over his legs. He passed you slices of pizza and with your free hand you played with the hair on the nape of his neck. 

“The party!” Bucky shouted out of nowhere, startling you. 

“What?” You offered him a confused look, even though he had no way of seeing it. 

“Tony’s party, we’re meant to be there right now.” A new type of panic settled in the tone of his voice, he knew attendance was mandatory and they weren’t there. 

“I texted Sam an hour ago saying we couldn’t come.” You replied, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I’m sorry.” He grumbled. 

“Hey, Bucky, look at me.” He turned his head, his regretful blue eyes met your reassurance.  “You have nothing to apologise for, pizza over canapes any day. I’d rather spend my night right here with you.”

His lips parted, wonderful etched into his features. “You really are amazing, you know that?” 

“No Bucky, you are.” 

Tags: @theselilwonders @elemenhoepe @delaber @ramp-it-up @nikole-witha-k @@mistressmkay @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @aquariusbarnes @ysmmsy @anxiousgirlsarehotter @give-me-bucky @goldylions @natbarnes1917 @jobean12-blog @late-to-the-party-81

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: Din Djarin x gn reader

req: no | wc: 939

summary: Din is curious about that ring you always seem to be wearing.

warnings: mention of death, lightly touched upon

a/n: Don't ask me why it's only been about rings with Din so far.

Din thinks, in these moments where you get to lay in bed without a worry in the world, that everything is right. He thinks, as he absentmindedly fiddles with your fingers, that nothing will trouble him. Nothing will trouble him, so long as you're here. You're safe here, in his arms; unarmored as they may be.

It wasn't morning, nor was it night, yet you laid in bed together. The midday sun of this planet did not allow safe travel during the afternoon. If he were to leave at this time, he would burn alive in his beskar, obstructive armor.

Although, the conditions did give him an excuse to relax. Your offer for an afternoon energy nap was agreed upon instantly.

"What is it with you and rings?" Din asks rather brashly. It was just a thought, one that came out of his lips in an impulsive tumble.

"What ever do you mean?" You reply, feigning offense.

"Sorry." He mutters, registering his previous tone. "Just… I was thinking about it—your ring. You used to wear it a lot before I met you, and you continued on until we officially started traveling together. After that, you suddenly stopped. Your hands were bare. And then, when we had our first kiss, you–"

"When we started dating." You correct.

"Yes. You started wearing it again. Only this time, differently." He continues, spinning the ring around your finger as he talks, "You wear it on your right hand. The first time, the heart was pointed towards the fingertips; the second time, towards the wrist."

Din was an observant man, you knew that. But to be this observant? Especially of you? It was a little flattering. He had noticed your ring even early on.

That posed a question. "How do you suppose I should wear it?"

"Hmm." The Mandalorian hums as he thinks. Then, almost gingerly, he slips the ring off your right hand's index finger and switches to your left hand. He splays the hand atop his own, and continues to debate himself internally.

"Struggling?"

"No." He says immediately.

As if you kickstarted him, he finally makes a decision. He pushes the ring down your left ring finger, with the heart's point toward the fingertips.

You grin rosily, which confuses him. "Did you just propose to me, Din Djarin?"

His head snaps down to you, his visor fixing in a way that you know he's staring into your eyes. "What?" He blurts out, a tinge of shock in his tone.

He was never one to share the knowledge that he was surprised; that information was valuable to morally gray bystanders.

You laugh, knowing that you'd set him up. A ring with a crown atop a heart (and hands holding them both) was most fitting on a ring finger.

Din huffs in return to your laugh, wanting to know exactly what was going on. Otherwise, he wouldn't know how to handle your accusation of proposal. The idea wasn't too far-fetched to begin with.

"This is a Claddagh ring, Din." You say, but he is still puzzled. "It has different meanings depending on which hand it is on and where the tip of the heart is pointing."

He nods, slowly, finally comprehending; so you continue. "The way I wore it before I met you–"

"Right hand pointed outward?" He recalls.

"Oh." So you liked him that early on. "Me too. I mean that—that I liked you too, then. I was interested."

"Precisely." You reply, "It means that I'm single and looking for a partner. So when I moved in with you, and took it off, it meant that… that I wasn't looking anymore."

His heart speeds up, and you can hear it, having your ear to his chest. "Mm," You hum and press a kiss to the back of his gloved hand. He hums too, pleased, despite it not being exposed skin. "that's good to know."

"Then, once we knew of our feelings for each other, and we started dating," You repeat the words that Din is somehow, still to this day, afraid to say sometimes. "I wore it on the right hand, pointing in. That meant I was in a relationship."

"And now on my left hand?" You prod.

Din answers, "Ring finger, heart pointed outwards. Engaged."

"Yes." You affirm, but you leave it at that. You glance up at him to find that he stares, now, at the ceiling. He's thinking. You can almost see the gears turning in his head through the helmet.

He doesn't speak for a while, still thinking. You're sure his perception of time in that brain storm of his isn't active, but if it was, he'd notice that it's been well over five minutes.

You give him that time, tracing your finger along his clothed arm, from his shoulder to his wrist. Then, when you run out of that, you move to his stomach and run circles along it. Din shudders in a way that lets you know he's still here, conscious.

"Then it's correct."

It had been a fifty-fifty. Fifty precent chance that he'd accept the idea, the idea of your engagement, and then another fifty that he'd rather stay comfortable in a relationship and not marriage. You had prepared yourself for both outcomes.

But, even so, you find yourself shocked. "Truly?" You ask breathlessly.

He stares down, you stare up. Then, he gives you the smallest yet most reassuring of nods.

With a grin, you prop yourself up on your elbows and lean down to his helmet. Din meets you half-way, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Will you marry me?" He finally asks.

"Yes."