#pain triggers me to front

[handsoffthefuckinshield]

why is the shell shock suddenly so much fuckin worse

[4giorno]

bro actually until im allowed to go see that doctor i should be granted paid time off ☺️

[euclydya]

it's funny looking back @ a few months ago when we all collectively formed bc Rosie was like "oh yeah this guy probably won't be fronting much :)" like... ce was Unaware of fhe Future huh

[mephisto-reporting]

Don’t Die on Me

About: You’re hurt—badly—wounded while shielding him from danger. As he rushes to your side, there’s a shift in his demeanor; he seems different, more vulnerable beneath his usual bravado. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content Warning: Angst, injuries, mentions of blood.

SYLUS

The sounds of gunfire had finally faded into silence, leaving only the shallow, ragged pull of your breath and the press of Sylus’s hand against your side, trying to stanch the bleeding. You had been hit during the ambush, shielding him from a blast intended for his head—an instinct you couldn't explain, or perhaps didn’t want to.

Sylus's expression was a mask of controlled fury, his jaw clenched as he knelt beside you, his usual cocky, unyielding demeanor giving way to something sharper, darker, and far more personal. He applied pressure to the wound with a fierce intensity, almost as if he could hold you together through sheer force of will alone. His fingers, usually steady and sure, shook faintly against your skin.

“You’re a damn fool,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger and something else—something deeper. “I didn’t need saving. Have you forgotten that I can heal quickly!?.”

You managed a small, pained smile. “Maybe I did it for the fun of watching you panic for once.”

His hand gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face to meet his intense, searching stare. "You really don’t know when to quit, do you, kitten?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it was laced with something raw, something unsteady.

“I thought… I had it under control.” you mumbled, trying for a smile, though even you knew how weak you sounded.

“Under control?” His laugh was short and sharp, a bitter edge in it. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Sylus hissed through gritted teeth, his usual cool facade crumbling. He never panicked—not him, not the man who’d handed you a gun to his own heart just to see if you’d pull the trigger. But right now, he was faltering, his steps uneven as he pulled you closer. His hand, normally so sure, so controlling, was shaking against your side. “You think I wanted you to jump in front of me like that? What were you thinking?”

You tried to catch your breath, his words slipping past you in a haze. You knew the risks of sticking by Sylus, knew that you’d inevitably end up in danger—but you couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. “Had to protect you,” you whispered, voice barely a thread. “I couldn’t... let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something far softer, something unspoken. “Protect me..?” he repeated, his voice lower, and you could feel the barely-contained fury laced with worry beneath it. He was trying to keep his grip on his composure, but his eyes betrayed him. His fingers trembled ever so slightly as he traced the edge of your cheek, the words slipping through clenched teeth. “You’re an idiot, Sweetie. A reckless, stubborn, damnably frustrating idiot.”

His expression twisted, the frustration in his eyes unmistakable, but there was something else too—something vulnerable, barely concealed beneath his usual scowl. You’d seen it before in the softer moments, those times when his hand would linger just a moment too long, or his voice would drop to that rare, gentle murmur. But this was different, more unguarded.

“Sylus…” you whispered, but he cut you off, pressing a hand to your wound. You stifled a gasp as his fingers met the raw injury, his jaw tightening in response, an unexpected flash of helplessness slipping through his mask.

“Quiet,” he muttered, his voice almost breaking. “You don’t get to talk right now.” He ripped off a piece of his sleeve, wrapping it tightly around your shoulder, though his touch was uncharacteristically tender. “This isn’t part of the plan, sweetie. You’re supposed to stay in one piece, just like I ordered.” The usual bite in his voice softened, desperation pooling in his dark gaze.

You chuckled weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but the pain pulled a groan from your lips instead. His expression grew even more intense, the hardness in his eyes melting into a quiet sort of anguish.

“Stop laughing. Stop… smiling like that.” His voice was fraying, edges cracking, a wavering panic he seemed unable to fully control. “You… you have no idea how hard it is not to tear this entire place apart for hurting you.”

The statement caught you off guard, and it must’ve shown in your expression because he let out a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that he’d never let you see before. It was strange to see him so unguarded, the man who played god in the N109 Zone suddenly grappling with the possibility of losing you.

The corner of his mouth twisted, and he tried for his usual smirk, but it faltered. “What would I do without you, hmm? My little hunter, so brave and foolish…” His words softened, and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, holding you securely against him as he continued on, urgency in every step. “You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

You managed to laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “Then… don’t let go,” you whispered. “Sylus…” Your voice was weak, your head spinning, but you reached up, brushing your fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw. His expression softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned closer.

“You’re… more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” he whispered, his voice breaking the slightest bit, but he forced a smirk, trying to hold onto his usual bravado.

“Guess I… picked it up from you,” you murmured, your vision growing hazy, but the warmth of his hand grounding you.

His grip tightened, and his lips brushed your temple, an unspoken promise lingering in the gesture. For once, Sylus seemed stripped of his dominance, his bravado washed away by the raw fear of watching you slip away. His hands shook as he held you, his mask cracking with every ragged breath you took. The man who’d taunted and tested you now held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable.

“Hold on, Sweetie… just a little longer.” he said fiercely, and in his voice, you heard something you never expected from him—fear. “I won’t let anything or anyone take you from me.”

XAVIER

Xavier’s arm is tight around you, steady even as he fights his own injuries. The blood trails hot down your side, and you can barely see it through the blurred edges of your vision, a dark stain spreading across your suit. Xavier’s face, usually a mask of quiet calm, is set hard with a sharpness that you rarely see. Xavier's hands, usually steady and almost uncaring, were shaking as he tried to press down on the wound at your side. You'd taken the hit for him, jumping between him and that blasted Wanderer with a split-second of hesitation—or none at all. He hadn’t expected it. Neither had you.

Blood soaked through his fingers as he crouched beside you, his face tight with a look you’d never seen. Fear, maybe—though he wouldn’t admit it.

"Why... did you do that?" His voice was low, but it felt like he was questioning the universe itself. His usually calm tone was laced with an edge that made you dizzy or maybe it was the blood loss, hard to tell.

“Instinct…?” you murmured, managing a weak smirk despite the pain slicing through you. “I know, I was a bit reckless.”

“Reckless isn’t... you bleeding out on this floor,” he muttered, pressing harder against the wound, a little too hard, but you didn’t have the strength to complain. “You should have left me to handle it.” His gaze softened when you winced, and he pulled his hand back, immediately brushing away the edge of guilt. Yet the blood still glistened darkly on his fingertips, his gloves, on the floor where you lay.

“It would’ve been worse if it got you,” you mutter, trying to summon even a hint of humor, though the attempt falls flat against the pain.

Xavier doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks at you, and the deep space void reflected in his eyes almost draws you in. That familiar aloofness fades, and for a brief moment, his concern seeps through, raw and achingly close. He shifts his weight to press you more securely against him, his free hand gently adjusting the strap of your gear as if every second counts in keeping you here, anchored.

“Look,” you managed, reaching up, even if it took everything in you to keep your voice steady, “you’d do the same for me.”

Xavier’s mouth set in a thin line. You’d hit a nerve, that much was clear. Despite the unspoken rule between you two—the sidelong glances, the unsaid things—he wouldn’t entertain the possibility that he would have let you get injured in this manner on his watch.

“You don’t know what I’d do,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper. His words held a weight you hadn’t expected, making you look at him closely even as the edges of your vision began to fade. “And you won’t have to, because I'm getting you out of here.”

He hoisted you up, careful, gentle, though he flinched when you sucked in a breath from the pain. He started forward, one arm cradling you as he moved you through the wreckage of the battle toward the shelter of the shuttle. It was strange, seeing Xavier so unguarded, every step almost too fast as though he feared stopping would break you.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, voice low. You feel his breath, close enough to count heartbeats, to wonder if his pulse is racing like yours. The space between you feels impossibly small, and the silence stretches, vulnerable, bare.

You manage a faint smile, fingers brushing his, a silent reassurance even as the sharp ache of your wounds thrums persistently in your bones. “You know, if I’d known I’d end up leaning on you like this, I’d have come up with something... cleverer to say.”

To your surprise, he huffs a small laugh, his gaze softening. “You always talk,” he murmurs, with a hint of that familiar, boyish charm, though it’s laced with worry now. “Save your strength. I’ll get us out of here.”

You felt yourself drifting, and his voice brought you back.

“Hey,” he said, tightening his hold. “Stay awake. I can’t have you falling asleep on me now—I'm the one who does that, remember?”

His humor was strained, like he was grasping at something familiar to keep himself steady. You let out a soft chuckle, the sound weaker than you meant it to be. “Guess we’re trading roles today.”

There was a moment, somewhere between one step and the next, where he stopped. He looked down at you, his gaze intense. For once, his expression was completely open—his worry and something warmer simmering just beneath.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “Not here. Not now. Not ever.”

You felt a wave of heat rise within, one that made the pain more bearable, somehow grounding. Before you could respond, he resumed his pace, carrying you as if you were the most precious thing in the galaxy.

The world swayed, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, but you forced yourself to focus on him, on the boyish charm that hid beneath his cool exterior. “Xavier,” you rasped, “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

“Just keep looking at me,” he replied, his voice steady. “We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

In the quiet of the shuttle, as he set you down and the medics began patching you up, you felt his hand graze your cheek, lingering just a little too long. You dared to meet his gaze, and for once, Xavier’s eyes didn’t look away. They softened, and the smallest hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Next time,” he said, voice warm with unspoken promise, “let me protect you.”

RAFAYEL

The harsh winds of the remote village howled around you as Rafayel’s face loomed over you, more serious than you’d ever seen it. You hadn’t intended for things to get this bad, but the ambush from the Wanderer had been swift and brutal, and you’d thrown yourself between its claws and Rafayel without a second thought. A mistake, maybe—though you could hardly think of it as a mistake, even now, lying on the cold, unforgiving ground with blood soaking your side.

“Damn it, stop being so heavy,” Rafayel muttered, though his voice trembled, barely hiding the edge of panic. You glanced up, expecting his usual smirk, his smug teasing, something bratty, but his face was blank—frustrated, pale, and determined in a way you’d never seen.

“S-sorry to inconvenience you,” you managed through the haze of pain, trying to keep it light. “But I think I lost quite a bit of blood back there.”

Rafayel’s usual smug charm was gone. His carefree expression had twisted into something you couldn’t place—anger, worry, a flicker of panic as he knelt down beside you. He pressed his hands over the wound, and though it was uncharacteristic, there was no teasing, no insults, just an almost frightening intensity. “You… Why did you do that?” he demanded, his voice low and jagged, as though the question alone might tear him apart. “Do you think I’m some helpless damsel? You could have been killed.”

Your breath hitched, and you were grateful that it could just as easily be the pain causing it. Still, you shrugged, or tried to, but your body had other ideas, and you stumbled. Rafayel caught you, his arm firm around your waist as he steadied you. You managed a weak smirk, though the effort cost you. “Guess… I wanted to make myself useful as a bodyguard, for once,” you rasped, feeling the humor fall flat even as you said it.

“Useful?” His eyes, normally filled with a cocky gleam, were sharp with frustration. “Throwing yourself in harm’s way is your idea of useful?” He gave a dry, humorless laugh, his hands applying pressure that made you wince, though he didn’t seem to notice. “You’re dumber than I thought. The one time I actually need you to stay out of my way, and you—” He broke off, swallowing hard, his fingers trembling ever so slightly against you.

“Don’t… act like you care now, Rafayel,” you murmured, half-teasing, though the words came out weaker than you meant.

His face twisted, and you saw a flash of something in his eyes that you hadn’t expected—hurt, genuine and raw, like you’d struck a nerve. “Idiot,” he whispered, and his tone was so low it was almost drowned out by the wind. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get… what?” You were slipping a little, your vision swimming, but you caught his gaze, and for the first time, you saw past his bratty facade to something deeper. He took a breath, his jaw set in determination, and then he did something you never expected: he carefully scooped you into his arms, his hold gentle yet fiercely protective.

“Stay awake, all right? I can’t have you passing out on me,” he ordered, though his voice had lost its usual bite. His words were soft, desperate, as he moved through the bleak landscape, carrying you with a carefulness that belied everything he usually projected. For a long moment, you stared at him, the pain numbing under the intensity in his gaze. This wasn’t the bratty, arrogant god who’d dragged you into mess after mess. This was someone else—someone who, behind the charm and teasing, was scared. For you.

"Idiot," he muttered, his words a tangled mess of relief and frustration. “Why would you do that?” He repeated.

And you almost laughed, wincing through the pain, because wasn’t it obvious?

“Because… I care,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper. It was the closest you’d come to admitting the truth—to saying what had long hovered between the two of you, unspoken, stubbornly denied.

"Just shut up for once,” he whispered, his voice strained, almost a plea. “You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like.” His arms tightened around you, as if holding you close could somehow protect you from the damage already done. “You… throwing yourself in front of me like that—do you have any idea how reckless that was? I didn’t need you to… risk yourself.”

“Couldn’t let the prince of the art world get scratched up… on my watch,” you said, trying to maintain your humor.

Rafayel glanced down, his usual piercing eyes softening, his expression raw. “If you’d died, I wouldn’t…” He paused, his gaze slipping away, the words seemingly caught in his throat. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” he finished, barely audible.

You managed to brush a finger along his wrist, grounding yourself, anchoring him to you. “You’ll… still have the sea. And everyone to charm.”

For once, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked down at you, and his eyes were so intense, so filled with something you’d never seen before. “None of that matters,” he murmured, his voice raw. He shifted, his hand grazing your cheek, lingering there for a moment too long. “Stay awake,” he commanded, a note of urgency threading through his tone. “You can’t just pass out on me. Not like this.”

You blinked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the clouds casting a warm glow around his figure. “Not… gonna pass out,” you whispered, though it felt like a lie even to your own ears. You could see the worry etched across his handsome face, something raw and unfiltered. “You need me for your—”

“Stop it!” he snapped, but there was no bite in his voice, only a desperate plea. “You don’t get to joke around right now. Not when you’re bleeding out.”

“Rafayel…” you began, but he cut you off, a flicker of his old bravado returning.

“Save your strength,” he snapped, though the edge was softened by concern. “I’ll get you out of here, but you have to stay awake. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you managed to murmur, your vision dimming as the waves of unconsciousness tugged at the edges of your mind. “Not without you.”

“Good,” he replied, and his voice was fierce and unyielding. “Stay alive,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, eyes dark with something he couldn’t bring himself to name. “For me.”

ZAYNE

The world felt hazy around you, pain ebbing in and out of your awareness as Zayne held you steady, his hands pressing firmly yet gently against the wound on your side. Blood smeared across his fingertips, but he kept his touch steady, calculating, his focus a perfect picture of surgical precision.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, his voice level, his eyes fixed on you with a fierce intensity. “I need you to keep talking. Tell me if you’re feeling dizzy or lightheaded, alright?”

You managed a faint smile, ignoring the way your own breaths came shallow and broken. “You’re… really good at this,” you tried to joke, but Zayne only shook his head, lips pressing into a thin line. “You should become a doctor...”

“Don’t push yourself to talk. You’ve taken a nasty hit here.” His voice was calm, almost clinical, but you could see the strain in his jaw, the telltale flicker of worry in his eyes. His hands, however, were as steady as ever, working methodically as he inspected the wound, gauging the damage with the supplies he always seemed to have at hand.

“Think of it this way," he continued softly, his calm tone soothing despite the urgency of the situation. "The wound isn’t too bad—lucky hit. If we keep steady pressure on it, there shouldn’t be significant blood loss. You’ll be fine. But you have to focus on breathing for me, alright?”

He was explaining everything, his voice filling the air like a familiar, grounding hum. His hands, wrapped around the fabric of his jacket pressed to your side, were warm, almost protective. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingertips, but he moved with absolute control, unwilling to show even a hint of panic. His gaze flicked up to yours for a moment, his expression softening despite the tension in his features.

“I warned you about being reckless,” he muttered, his tone more of a gentle chide than anything else. “But it’s not the first time, is it?” The slight quirk of his lips, a half-hearted attempt at a smile, almost made you forget the pain. Almost.

“Couldn’t let you get hurt,” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

“Hold still,” he ordered softly, his voice low and steady as he worked to stop the bleeding. His fingers were meticulous, his hands steady, despite the fear you could feel radiating from him. He couldn’t afford to let it show, so he did what he knew best: he relied on the calm, clinical precision that had carried him through countless surgeries. "The wound's not fatal, but you’re going to need stitches. I’d say you’ve torn through the muscle here by… at least an inch or two.” He let out a breath through gritted teeth, looking pointedly into your eyes. “I can’t believe you tried to shield me from that Wanderer."

Despite his calm, you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear that betrayed itself in the tension of his jaw, in the way his hands lingered just a moment too long against your skin, as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

As he applied pressure to your wound, his tone softened, more to himself than to you. “You’re lucky you didn’t rupture an artery,” he said, hands deftly inspecting the injury with precise, practiced movements. “If this were any worse… I’d be looking at a very different situation right now.” His voice wavered on that last note, but his hands stayed steady, not allowing a single tremor to betray him.

“You’re going to be fine, I’m going to make sure of that.” He glanced down at you, his gaze holding an intensity that went beyond the practiced care of a surgeon. “You’re not allowed to play the hero, you know?. And if you’re trying to impress me… then I’d say you’re not required to be reckless for it.”

“Zayne…” you murmured, feeling the darkness pressing in at the edges of your vision.

“Keep those eyes open,” he whispered, his fingers gently brushing your cheek, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. “Stay with me. I’ll… I’ll get you out of here. But I need you to focus.” His thumb gently stroked your temple, his touch tender yet steady as he leaned close, his forehead resting lightly against yours, just for a second, as if grounding himself, too.

You managed a faint smile. “Didn’t know you were the boss of me, doc.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t look up. “Believe it or not, I have plenty of experience bossing you around.” He kept talking, his voice low and clinical, grounding you in the familiar, steady cadence

“You always said I was a terrible listener.” Your voice softened as you felt his hand linger, his thumb grazing your skin in a gesture far more affectionate than necessary.

“This isn’t funny.” He met your gaze then, a look so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. “Breathe,” he instructed, his voice calm and steady, despite the chaos swirling around you.

You could see the fear lurking in his dark eyes, a stark contrast to his composed demeanor. But it didn’t matter; his touch was methodical, reassuring, his fingers steady as they pressed against the injury.

“Zayne… the others—”

“Forget them.” His voice was firm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of panic as they darted around the shop, assessing the situation even as he tended to you. “I need you to focus on me. You’re the priority right now.”

You could feel the warmth of his hand against your side, but it was not enough to push away the chill creeping into your bones. “But—”

“Enough.” He pressed down harder, and you gasped, but he didn’t relent, his expression shifting to one of fierce determination. “You can’t help anyone if you bleed out here. So please, stay with me.”

The adrenaline coursing through your veins faltered, and all you could think about was how you had protected him—how you had jumped in front of the danger without a second thought. The sight of him, typically unflappable, now uncharacteristically tense, pulled at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to form the words.

He shook his head, an intensity burning in his gaze. “Don’t. You’re not allowed to apologize. Not when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out for me.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, his touch lingering. “I’m not letting you leave me. You hear me? We still have so much left to do together.”

You could feel the world slipping away, darkness creeping into your vision, but his voice anchored you. “Hey… Don’t let go.” he murmured, using the nickname he reserved for the most intimate moments. “I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[voids-ideas]

Ok I am going to do this simply because the first thing I will put here I NEED to do it and I have 0 motivation to do it even though it is EXTREMELY important

In fact, I think that's the reason why I don't want to do it... anyway

If this gets to 30 notes, I do that thing ✅️

50 notes, I call to ask if my doctor's appointment has been scheduled (I've been avoiding it for two weeks now) ✅️

100 notes, I go wash my shoes that have long needed washing and are just sitting there, existing, waiting for me to deign to wash them. ✅️

200 notes, I finish organizing my room (I organized it halfway and then left a bunch of things that still don't have a defined place) ✅️

500 notes, I use the things I have to bleach and color my hair. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of doing it wrong or being too lazy to maintain it. ✅️

1k notes, I stop doing things that I know will trigger my chronic pain with the pure intention of confirming that the pain was indeed real (don't do this. 0 recommended) ✅️

5k notes, I try some new food without fear of wasting money by buying something I most likely won't like (my autism hates new foods) ✅️

10k notes, I wear my bi flag earrings in front of someone I wouldn't usually wear them with. I trust that they possibly wouldn't have a problem with me being bi, but I would never get up the courage to tell them anything ✔️ (I haven't, but that person was in my room next to where the earrings are. They were 0% hidden) ✅️

20k notes, wtf I have absolutely no idea. If it comes to this, ehhh... Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Do I promise to be honest in therapy and stop telling them that everything is perfect even though nothing has ever been perfect? Yeah, that probably works. Please don't go this far, I don't know how to do this. Maybe I should... but... it would be awful to learn it

April 2024: I stop procrastinating editing this post with the things I've already done. I WANT THE HAIR SO MUCH BUT IT'S SO DIFFICULT

May 2024: Red hair, red hair, red hair. I'M CROWLEY, RED HAIR!!!!!

[wyniepooh]

Loving him was never enough

you don’t have what logan needs, but he still takes all that he can.

Cage fighter!logan x reader. Mentions of violence. Porn with a little bit of plot. mdni; 18+

thinking about being logan’s plaything in his cage fighting days.

It’s not uncommon for the fighters to have a girl around their arms as they enter the ring, and though Logan usually resists against the fan girls who clamour around him in a frenzy, he figures a sweet thing like you could only do him some good.

Not only does it piss the other fighters off, (they hate to see the king of the cage also have a pretty girl like you beside him) turns out, you’re not half bad for company either.

You’re an anxious little thing, brows furrowed and eyes teary before every match. Logan doesn’t bother telling you that he’ll be fine, that he’s going to win guaranteed, that his punch is as hard as metal. Literally.

He hates to admit it, but he finds it endearing, the way you’re so worried for him. through his nonchalant front, he still wipes away your tears with his large hands before every match and reassures you, cooing, “I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When logan gets in the ring, the fight goes exactly as he expects it to go. The other guy is destroyed before logan even shows his true strength. In a spiteful and humiliating position, the fallen guy comments something like, “I’ll fuck your pretty girlfriend dumb.”

Logan hears, of course, and though the guy is already bleeding and sprawled over the mat on the ground in a pathetic display, and though logan definitely didn’t consider you his girlfriend, he throws the announcer to the side and pounces. Through gritted teeth and a bleeding forehead, he catches your eye, shaking his head lightly before knocking the other guy out.

You wait for him in the small public washroom afterwords, arms crossed and pouting. As Logan approaches the door and sees your stiff pacing around the room, he knows you’re mad. And he knows it won’t stay that way.

“‘was so worried, logan,” you practically run towards him, “why’d you have to go after him like that? he could’ve really hurt you.”

He scoffs and flashes you the fresh wad of cash. “Hurt me? Please.”

He stays still for as long as he can bear while you dab at the wound on his head with your sleeve, silently hoping you wouldn’t notice the red cut slowly healing by itself. When you try to touch his face, to run a finger down his cheek and his stubble, he grabs your wrist harshly to stop you.

You’re confused, confused as to why he allows you to trail along to his every fight and wipes your tears with such a gentle hand, but refuses to let you in. He doesn’t give you much time to think, though, because as soon as you part your lips to speak, he’s picking you up from under your arms and sitting you down on the cold sink counter.

there’s an aggressive desperation behind his kiss, probably produced by the adrenaline of the recent fight and triggered by the soft whine he heard from you when his teeth knocked against yours. His hand reaches down between your legs and drags your panties to the side, and before long, you’re biting his shoulder and mumbling, “‘gonna cum, logan, please, let me cum.”

He does, drawing out your short orgasm with a few more pumps of his fingers and a graze over your clit. When he’s done, you’re practically already numb, head limp on his shoulder as you hear the metal clinking of his belt.

“You want this?” He asks, holding your head up by your chin as he tilts his head and raises his brows. “You want me?”

You nod feverishly, half-lidded eyes flickering as you breathe, “yes, logan. need you.” Your head falls back against the mirror, and he looks down with a grin at the sight in front of him.

he hooks his arms around your knees to bring you closer before you take him to the hilt in one go, burying a mewl into his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist. The first thrust burns, always does, but only he can make you forget the pain in an instant. Soon, your hands are tangled in his hair, his beard is rubbing against your neck, and you’re begging, “please, lo, need it so bad. “ Logan fucks exactly like how he fights, thrusting into you so sharply your ass is sliding back on the metal counter with each movement of his hips.

He’s done this enough times to know what makes you whine and dig your fingernails into his back, but he still demands, every time, “that feel good, baby? you like that?” Of course, you don’t have to answer for him to know that it does, that it does feel good, so incredibly good, and that he’s hitting all the right spots in the body only he knows so well.

You aren’t the only one filling the room with lewd noises. Logan is panting too, the echoes of his each and every grunt reflecting off of every corner in the room and into your ear. It only makes your cheeks flush hotter, only encourages your hips to move more eagerly to match his pace.

It’s always when he’s just about there that Logan pulls back and looks down at where the two of you are connected, slowing down his strokes to slowly watch his bulging cock sink deep into your slopping cunt.

It’s the only opportunity with logan that you get to really look at him, to see the raw expression of euphoria on his face, teeth bared and mouth open. Some strands of previously gelled hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes rolling back with each press of his pelvis. Your eyes trace the sweat on his shoulder, the hair on his chest peaking from behind his white wife-beater, and the vein on his stomach that connects to the one on his dick.

You gaze flickers back at his face, and you extend a hand to guide his head towards you. He tries to turn away, as usual, and you hate that you know he’s holding back; limiting the noises he’s making, the pace he’s taking.

“Just use me, Logan. I know you want to,” you plead against his lips, inhaling a gasp as you press your lips onto his. You expect him to pull away, to push your head to the side and focus on finishing the other task at hand, but this time, he only pulls you closer, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head. He doesn’t give you much time to be shocked before he resumes his previous pace, drilling into you with the same vigor, albeit a bit more sloppy than before.

Logan pulls back to catch his breath, and at the same time, you clench tightly around him. A low groan escapes him, a noise so animalistic and fervent that you reach your high right then and there, shrieking as your legs begin to shake.

He’s close too, you can feel it in his breathing, so you let him fuck you beyond your orgasm, even if it’s getting to be too much and you’re losing your thoughts by the second.

“nobody— ah— fucks my girlfriend,” he suddenly growls, lifting you up from under your arms and shoving you against the tiled wall. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing you to look into his hazel gaze as he spits, “n-nobody fucks you like I do.”

He plummets into you deep, leaning his lips in and making you swallow one last groan of his before you feel his warm release fill your insides.

When he’s done, Logan is supporting all your weight, your limp arms splayed around his sweaty back. You whimper at the emptiness as he pulls out, feeling his cum languidly drip down your inner thighs.

You’re too exhausted to realize what he just said, to react to what he just referred to you as, and as the fog of pleasure slowly unclouds Logan’s head, he’s glad he fucked you stupid enough to forget.

-

a/n: anyone else feel like they’re incapable of writing good smut? Hey Google how many other synonyms could there possibly be of the word ‘thrust’?

[giantkillerjack]

If you take away my intermissions and I need to pee during a show, I am peeing on you

Unpopular theatre opinion: intermissions are bad and I wish we could just have a 2.5 hour performance uninterrupted, like people manage perfectly well at movie theaters. It always just kills my emotional immersion. Set changes and costume changes valid, but the art form could adapt in other ways. Or making the intermission experience somehow also part of the performance? Just something more interesting and intentional than dumping people out into the lobby to buy m&ms.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[multific]

A Husband's Duties

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: After a small injury, you decide it is better to not burden your husband, and hide it from him. But of course, when he finds out and he is less than impressed. 

As you prepare dinner in the warm glow of the kitchen, a sudden surge of pain shoots through your body. 

In an instant, you feel a sharp pain in your side, causing you to wince and clutch at the source of the discomfort. 

As you try to shake off the pain, you can't help but worry about how Marcus will react when he comes home and sees what you've been hiding.

The minutes tick by slowly, each second feeling like an eternity as you desperately try to compose yourself. 

You know that Marcus will be upset if he finds out you've been injured and kept it from him. But deep down, you also know that you were only trying to protect him, to spare him from unnecessary worry.

Finally, the sound of the front door opening echoes through your home, signalling Marcus's return. Your heart races as you continue to work in the kitchen, your movements becoming more strained with every passing second. 

You can hear his footsteps approaching, growing louder with each step.

"My Love, I'm home," Marcus calls out, his voice filled with a mix of fatigue and excitement. 

But as soon as he catches sight of you, his eyes narrow, and concern replaces the joy on his face.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice tinged with anger, his eyes fixed on the pained expression etched across your face. 

You take a deep breath, struggling to find the right words to explain yourself.

"I... I didn't want to worry you," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

Marcus' anger softens, replaced by a mixture of worry and frustration. He crosses the room in a few strides, gently taking your hand in his. 

"I appreciate your efforts, My Love, but you should never have to face something like this alone. Tell me please, what happened?" he says, his voice filled with a tenderness that reassures you.

You let out a long sigh.

"I fell. I took the wrong step and fell up the stairs. I hurt my side when I fell on the stone steps."

He carefully tends to your injury, his touch gentle and comforting. As he wraps a bandage around your side, you can feel his relentless support, his love flowing through every action.

"My Love, I might just have to follow you everyone to make sure you are safe and sound."

"I do not wish to keep you from your duties."

"Being your husband is my greatest one." he said and you smiled at him.

For the next couple of days, Marcus becomes your rock, taking care of you with such love and care. 

He cooks, cleans, and ensures that you have everything you need to heal. But more than that, he listens to your fears and worries, offering a steady hand to lean on during your recovery.

Through it all, you learn the importance of openness and trust in a relationship. 

You realize that keeping secrets, even with good intentions, can only lead to misunderstandings and unnecessary distress. 

Marcus's anger reflected his concern for your well-being, a reminder that the strength of your bond lies in open and honest communication.

As you heal, you grow closer and closer, cherishing the deep love between you. 

In the end, your injury becomes a trigger for strengthening your relationship, reminding both of you of the power of compassion and teamwork in overcoming any challenge that comes your way.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[nottsangel]

FIFTEEN. gunplay — the purge au mattheo riddle

warnings — smut 18+. dubcon. gunplay (mattheo fucks reader with his gun). mask kink. purge night. you are responsible for your own media consumption.

kinkmas mlist. moodboard. more.

“hey, you gotta sit still f’me or you won’t survive this, a’ight?” the masked man holding a gun in front of you hisses through his teeth, his deep, intense voice muffled as he spreads your legs. you’re unsure what he wants from you after breaking into your house on purge night, but you fear the worst as you tremble beneath him, gazing up at him through eyelashes with fat tears threatening to fall from your waterline.

“not that i care.” he mutters under his breath, raking the barrel over your exposed cunt, your ripped panties already tossed to the floor. you’re trembling in fear, your brows furrowed in nervousness, yet, you still can’t help but feel somewhat turned on? and he notices it too, chuckling lowly under the mask as his brown eyes are drawn to your dripping pussy.

he then unexpectedly pushes the gun into your soaked hole, the action anything but gentle— the sharp edges of the hard metal make you instinctively clench even tighter around it, as you scream out in both pain and pleasure. you don’t have to see his face to know that he’s smirking behind the mask, relishing in the fear and pain radiating off you.

his head dips closer, the heavy, muffled breaths through the mask only frightening you more.

“poor thing, your heart is beating so fast… don’t worry. i’ll be careful, princess.” you feel a sense of relief at his unexpectedly caring words, spoken in such a soothing manner— but that false sense of relief doesn’t last long.

“but uh, i just can’t control these shaky hands sometimes… what a shame it would be if my finger slipped and accidentally pulled the trigger.”

your eyes widen as the masked man chuckles wickedly. you can see his erection clearly now, and it’s almost as if he’s getting harder the more fear he sees on your pretty face.

before you can protest, he roughly drags the gun nearly out of your cunt, before pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper uncomfortably at the unusual feeling. you instinctively try to close your legs, but he catches on immediately, grabbing your inner thigh and pushing it open until your muscles ache from the stretch.

“ah ah ah; be a good girl f’me and keep those pretty legs spread, yeah?” he orders, shaking his masked head in disapproval as his hand increases its pace. the gun painfully drags against your walls, but still, your wetness drips down the cold metal and all over his hands, the slick sounds of your wet pussy echoing through your ominously dark room.

“tsk… such a dirty fuckin’ slut, huh? turns out i broke into the right house tonight. and if you’re lucky, i might just return next year…”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[songmingisthighs]

Baby Baby

group : ateez

pairing : alpha!san × human mate!reader

genre : smut

wc : 3.4 k

warning : mature, mdni, explicit smut; restraints, cumming untouched, rut, breeding kink (breeding need more like), lactation kink, slight cum play and cum eating, both san and mc are being degenerate pain slut mayhaps ?, unprotected sex, alpha sex, rut sex, knotting, degradation ??, don't read if you don't like or can't stand this genre

a/n : this fic is brought to you by @kitten4sannie GOADING me. I wholeheartedly blame you alyssa. whatever happens after this, blame alyssa

buy me coffee ?

You came rushing to the pack house with your baby tucked in her little blanket, sleeping so soundly like an angel which was an utter contrast to the situation that you were facing. You had been rushing so much that you changed into a flimsy shirt and a long boho-esque skirt. You were barely at the front door and yet you could hear the sound of your husband's screams, filling the silence in the air, and making the whole area seem haunted.

Upon entry, you were greeted by Seonghwa who immediately took your little princess in his arms and Yeosang who welcomed you. "How bad is it?" you asked, taking your coat before handing it over along with your bag to Yeosang. Hongjoong came rounding from the kitchen upon hearing you and from the look on his face, you knew this was a bad one. "(y/n), are you sure you want to handle him?" Hongjoong asked, worriedly looking between you and your sleeping daughter, whose fluffy wolf ears twitched at the sound of the commotion but remained in her slumber. You simply shrugged, "He's my husband, this is nothing I haven't experienced before," you said as you tried to push past Hongjoong to go to the basement. Before you could go past him, he held you back and made you look at him, "This is unlike his previous ruts, (y/n). He's... He's going over the rails and it's triggered by you giving birth," he explained. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, "But I gave birth like a long time ago. For fuck's sake, we're close to Hyemi's first birthday." With arms raised, Hongjoong could only shrug, "All I know is that the doctor told us that this is like an anti-postpartum depression. He's more aggressive, more needy, and frankly his sexual stamina is beyond anything I've ever seen and he was already a nutjob in that department."

Hearing Hongjoong's explanation made your heartbeat increase both from worry but also from... excitement? You knew what San is capable of and you knew the others knew as well. So for Hongjoong to be so concerned, you could only imagine what the extent of San's state is like.

After kissing your daughter on the forehead and allowing Seonghwa to take her over to the hunting cabin so she would be away from all the noise, you marched down to the basement only to see a sight that made you gasp.

Under the moonlight and a single lightbulb near the door, San, your dear husband, was shirtless and his limbs were restrained by metal chains that ran from the corners of one side of the wall. You wanted to ask why he was put in such a state but when you closed the door, you had seen how the small window that allows people to peek in was shattered on the ground and the handle on the door was bent, flattened even. You couldn't explain why that made you wet and you felt like you couldn't fixate on that considering the situation. But the sight of the shambled surrounding was not as surprising as seeing San staring, or glaring, at you, straining against the chains so hard that his veins were popping.

"Honey, I knew that was you. I could smell you from the moment you stepped out of the car," San shuddered, eyes glazing and his fists clenching, "Have you come for me, pretty? You came for your alpha didn't you?" he chuckled darkly. You swallowed nervously but San knew that you were aroused seeing him with his shirtless, glistening chest and very very tight jeans, especially with a VERY distracting protrusion in the dark patch in his crotch. No matter how much you had been with San, the sight of him half naked and so animalistic always made you blush. "Honey, I'm so thirsty," San whimpered and as if it was an automatic trigger, you abandoned your position and rushed to San, cupping his face gently only to gasp at how feverish he felt, "Oh sweetie, you're burning up! I'll go get you some water." You were about to detach away from him but he growled and dropped his head on your shoulder, making you stand still in your spot. "I am thirsty but not for that, my love. I'm thirsty for you."

Slowly, you felt San's head turn and he let out a shaky exhale that made tingles ran down your spine. Your eyes fluttered close when San's tongue joined in to lick your skin around your neck almost strategically pressing into your weak points which made your knees buckled and since San didn't have his freedom, you had to cling onto his body. The proximity made San smirk against your skin because now he was able to grind into your core, allowing you to feel how wet and hard he had become. "F-fuck, Sannie-" "Can you feel that? Can you feel how hard I am? I've been waiting for you mama and I can't take it anymore. Do you know how many times I've cum in my pants? Do you know how many times my cum has been wasted? I could've been breeding you over and over, make you a mommy again because fuck, we did such a great job with the first one," San panted heavily into your ear as he winced from pain and need, "Love, I need to put another baby in you, I want to put a baby in you."

Your mind was in such a hazy state because his body's warmth was luring you in like a faux safety net but the way he was humping your leg with his cock that seemed to be engorged due to both arousal and his heat. "Sannie, baby, y-your cock-" "It's asking for you, mama. It wants you. Please, please, please, let it bury itself inside your sweet sweet cunt and breed it with another pup. It's been so long and it hurts, it hurts so good," His words were like melted butter in your ears, absolutely making you weak and you were sure that your panties were effectively ruined with your slick but also from the way San was rubbing his jeans-clad crotch onto you. You couldn't deny the increasing need- no, want for him. It HAD been some time since you got intimate all thanks to your baby girl. You and he had been so focused on taking care of her and letting your body heal that the most you two have done was letting San suck on your tits while dry-humping you. So you two were stuck in a hard situation. Literally.

In your state of utter oblivion, you somehow managed to refocus yourself enough to look at the way San was straining. He had been whispering pleas and sweet nothings, buttering you up to let him relieve his rut on you, you missed the way he was straining so hard that you swore he was so close to breaking the restraints like they were made of popsicle sticks.

"Poor baby," San's mouth stopped its work on your skin the moment you replied coherently, "You've been waiting for me for so long, haven't you? Settling for minuscule action while I got better, you took such good care of me... Alpha." You had to suppress a moan when you felt San's cock twitch as his hip ground harder into your crotch, accidentally stimulating your clit against the barrier. "Yes, yes, yes, baby, I will take such good care of you. You saw how much of a great husband I could be with our first, imagine me with our second. So please, please let me out of this misery and let me fuck another baby into you."

Cursing, you pushed away from San slightly and took off your shirt before dropping down to kneel in front of his crotch. San watched you with keen eyes as your hands deftly moved to release him from his confines. The moment his cock was freed, you saw it bob before it stood straight up, slapping him right on his stomach, his residual cum smearing and splattering from the impact, some even landed on your cheek but you couldn't care. How could you care when your husband's cock was staring at you almost tauntingly? You swore his cock was larger than you remembered. The tip, a shade of angry red, and his balls seemed full of cum.

"Fuck, alpha, you're going to break me," you breathed.

Though unintentional, your breath hit his stiff cock and before you could react, San came untouched. Spurts of his cum hit you on your face making you gasp in surprise. "Fuck!" San grunted as he rode off his high, allowing his balls to empty out yet again. The amount of cum that San let out was astonishing as it seem almost endless. It made you imagine San shooting that much cum when he finished inside you. Just from the looks of it, you knew that that climax you and San will soon share would be sloppy and messy and you can't wait. Your cunt clenching with anticipation.

"Fuck, baby, why did you have to tease me like that, you slut? You just had to goad your alpha knowing that he's in restraints, huh? You really think you could take advantage of the situation I'm in huh?" San growled, snapping his hips forward so that his cock slapped you in the mouth, smearing his fresh cum around as if to mark and humiliate you. "Sorry alpha, I didn't mean to. I was just so... Amazed with your cock, I just wanna..." You trailed off as your lips slowly enveloped the hard appendage. The moment your wam mouth made contact with San's cock, he immediately almost lost control. Your tongue was caressing his cock all around so good that his hips started moving, grounding itself against your mouth as if it was addicted to you just as much as you were addicted to tasting San again. It was hard, and it wasn't just the stiffness of the cock, but his engorged size trying to stuff itself inside your mouth was almost too much. Your jaw was hurting but the pain was too delicious, you were struggling but you wanted more of it, you wanted it wholly and you wanted it so bad. San's hips made it hard for you to lick the cum clean from his dick but you made do with what you can. "Look at my mate. My pretty, pretty mate, so fucking beautiful and so fucking needy for her alpha," San's tongue darted out to lick his chapped bottom lip and as he did, he could almost taste you in the air, "And look at you being so needy," he chuckled darkly, seeing the way your hips sway back and forth and then around as if to look for friction for your very empty cunt. "Can't wait to fill you up, baby. Can't wait to pound that sweet pussy once again," he moaned.

Hearing him so needy for you, you couldn't help but let out a whimper and immediately scrambled up. "You want to fill me up, alpha? I'll give you what you want," you grabbed the edges of your skirt and hiked it up so you could easily took your panties off and fling it across the room. With his senses heightened, the smell of your free cunt made San's eyes roll to the back of his head and his hips gyrate in your direction. "Come on, come on, come on mama, stop torturing me and let me fuck you so good and so deep, your tummy would bulge out. I'm gonna make sure you'll get good and pregnant"

You couldn't even get properly and wholly naked as you were just that desperate and needy for San. So with one edge of your skirt still hiked, you hooked your left leg around his strong right thigh and your right hand reached under to slip his tip right at your entrance. "I'm ready alpha, I'm ready for you to take me and fill me up," you panted, pressing your forehead against his while you prepared yourself mentally to take his cock inside you. San rolled his hip once and his bulbous tip slipped inside you so easily thanks to your arousal, his residual cum, and your spit, mixing together creating the perfect lubricant. "Oh fuck," you whimpered, your arms circling around San's neck so tightly, catching him in a vice grip, "You're s-so big, t-too big!" you gasped the more it slipped inside you.

San was faring no better. Having gone through the first night of his rut by himself and flooding his mind with the thought and memories of your cunt, he was going through 10 emotions all at once because he finally got to feel the real deal. Being chest-to-chest with San allowed you to feel his heart beating so hard and quick you were afraid that it would break out of his ribcage. However, your worry about him breaking something was misplaced because while you were trying to slowly get yourself ready to take him whole inch by inch, San's patience snapped. His wolf was crying out to breed you and he deemed that he needed more and he needed it right then and there.

"San! Oh my- Fuck!!" You screeched when San bottomed out inside you with one smooth move. Your arms held onto him tighter while his thighs trembled, the pleasure was overwhelming him, almost sending his head to an empty state. "Baby, my love, my mate, thank you for giving your body to me."

You weren't even accustomed to him just yet but he had started fucking you with such fervor that it took everything in you to keep your mental faculties intact and held onto him for dear life. For the life of you, you couldn't even begin to think about how San managed to fuck you even with his limbs restrained but even such thought easily slipped from your mind as all other coherent mental processes were getting fucked out of you. "A-alpha please!" you weren't sure what you were pleading for because while it hurt, the pain was too pleasurable and you truly believed that you would have gone insane had he pulled back. Not that you think he could. When you pulled away slightly, you saw the way San was staring at you with dilated pupils, his eyes even seemingly turned into a shade of gold though you were not so sure due to the dimness of the room and your body being shaken up and down like a shaker. You could feel it, you could feel his cock deep inside you. The movement allowed him to go deeper and deeper, and you were sure that his tip was coaxing your cervix to open ever so slowly as evidenced by the dull probing feeling in your lower belly area. Even the thought of his cock prying you open to accommodate his agenda made your head feel like it was swimming.

Pleasure coursed through your body almost to the maximum extent within minutes but you held on, you wanted to hold on for your husband. "Fuck, I miss this," San growled, chuckling darkly, "How did I manage to not fuck you every night? It was wrong of me to let you experience even one day without being my little cumdump, my fleshlight, my most precious little doll toy." The way he reduced you to nothing but a plaything made your cunt clench, causing San's movement to halt and his breath hitch. "Honey, don't do that, I might cum too soon," he said through gritted teeth. You moaned and dropped your head back, exposing your neck to your husband, "And is that such a bad thing, love? Come on, cum in me, you promised to fill me up so full, right?"

The encouragement effectively pushed San's inner wolf to completely take over because the next thing you know, San ripped the right cup of your bra off, exposing your breast and your perked nipple before latching his mouth on it and he resumed his fucking. Not many words were exchanged between the two of you, all sorts of communication was in the form of moans, groans, and grunts. Especially you, who was up on cloud 9 from both penetrating and sucking stimulation. San was fucking you stupid while his mouth was feasting on your breastmilk. You took a peek down to see white dribbling down San's chin a bit too calmly while his hips never stopped their work on your cunt. The intensity of the pleasure sent you reeling and you could feel you were teetering on the edge of a climax. Your limbs contorted around San even tighter so much so that you were practically floating, two bodies being supported by one and at this moment you were very much glad that San's animalistic side had taken over perhaps completely.

"F-fuck, San! Sannie! Alpha! I-I-" You wanted to tell him that you were cumming but the words were stuck in your throat. San, too preoccupied with the taste of you on his tongue, didn't bother answering but he simply bit down on your breast. The sharp pain caused you to let your control slip and then and there you came undone. Your body shook as you climaxed, your jaw unhinged and you let out a loud cry while your cunt unknowingly let out spurts of clear liquid.

San always loved it when you climaxed because your scent became more powerful and your body writhed about that sent his animalistic side into a frenzy as it paralleled his high when he caught a prey; so pliant, so submissive, so... helpless. Your orgasm served to only goad San even more as he never stopped his movement, never even faltering for a single beat. "Yes, we're so close, baby, so close," San smirked after gulping down your milk. His sharp canine dragged on your sternum in a menacing way that made it even hotter for some reason. You were already so spent and to be frank, the constant friction was becoming almost too much. Your legs were starting to cramp and your arms were slowly going numb. As glad as you were for cumming, knew you couldn't handle another one so soon, especially when you felt his knot forming.

"Alpha, alpha! Cum in me p-please! I- I can't take it anymore!" you whined, gripping him so hard that his back bore the red streaks of your nails that dug into his skin. "Yes, mama, yes. I'll cum in you, I'm cumming in you, fuck! I'm gonna get you nice and pregnant!" San announced loudly before his hips stuttered once more and his mouth latched back onto your breast. Along with his teeth digging into your soft flesh, you felt warm liquid being spurted out directly into your womb, filling you rather quickly and your mind floated back to the amount of cum San had let out not even too long ago. San's cum and knot were filling you up so stupidly good that you didn't even have any more energy to scream so you simply dropped your head onto his shoulder. Your senses were filled with San experiencing his true release after holding back for so long.

San happily sucked more of your milk, ensuring that your breast would be drained and very darkly marked, while he happily let his knot rest inside you.

Although you were still being stimulated, your body was slowly calming down and it was then did your muscles felt the after effect. Soreness started to settle in your joints and parts of your limbs but your husband's warmth was making things up for you, like a very large heating pad.

"Alpha, I'm so full," you croaked, closing your eyes when you felt San also calming down even if it was temporary. "You were so good, my mate. I'm so proud of my little mama being able to take all of that," he praised, letting his lips trail kisses from your chest, up your neck, to your cheeks, and settle to nibble on your earlobe. "But you know that this night had just begun."

Your eyes snapped open when you heard loud clanking sounds and you immediately took notice of the way the chains that were holding San's limbs were so easily broken and in a flash, you were put on the floor with San hovering over you.

"How about we try for twins this time?"

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @itasluv @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[sxcretricciardo]

I’m back…

social media au

-> you and Lando have a past that it’s quite complicated… what happens when you go up to Formula 1 to race against him?

•

f1 Y/N Y/L/N is joining Aston Martin for the 2024 season.

view more comments

astonmartinf1 welcome to our team yourusername!

-> yourusername let’s make magic together 🫰🏻

username1 omg she and Lando on the same paddock????

-> username2 what’s the lore??? I’m unaware

-> username3 apparently they were dating back in f3 and he cheated on her and the guys all called her a dramatic b*tch. She crashed the next race, probably from all the bullying and pressure and was out for a whole year.

-> username2 wowww I hope she kicks his ass next season 💅

fernandoalo_oficial welcome teammate! yourusername

-> yourusername thank u nando! I’m fangirling rn <3

alex_albon missed you bestie

-> yourusername missed you albonooo 😚

•

yourusername helloooo Australia!! 🇦🇺 I was so happy to answer your questions today, now let’s get racin 🏁

view more comments

username1 girl you were SOO funny!! Loved it 🫶🏻

-> username2 she’s adorable

-> username3 let’s hope she can race too

danielricciardo you’re stealing my thunder on my own home country 🥹

-> yourusername hang in there cowboy 🤠

-> oscarpiastri OUR home country danielricciardo

•

astonmartin our girl just made p4 in her first f1 race! 😍

view more comments

fernandoalo_oficial p5 just felt more special with you in front of me! what a way to start our season 😜

alex_albon way to go!!

username1 the fact that she gave Lando the finger after passing him HAHA

-> username2 ICONIC

landonorris 🥱

-> username3 Lando is TRIGGERED

-> username4 omg we’re just starting the season and there’s already dramaaaa

•

f1gossip Aston Martin driver Y/N Y/L/N gave Lando Norris the finger after overtaking him. Note that in their F3 season Y/N was out of action for a year after Lando cheated on her and rumor has it the hole paddock was also bullying her. Is she having her revenge?

•

yourusername just posted a story

•

real life

Y/N was sitting in the coffee area inside the Aston Martin headquarters when Fernando slowly approaches her.

“Can I sit?” He asks, pointing to the empty chair that’s in front of the young driver.

She looks up from her coffee and nods with her head, to busy drinking her much needed caffeine to let words out.

“Just saw what you posted in Instagram.” He says, talking about the video where she tries to clean the air after she gave the finger in live race.

“Yeah, just wanted to kinda explain myself after what happened.” She says.

“What exactly happened between you two?” He asks.

Y/N looks at him. She knows she can trust him, despite really knowing him for just a couple of months. He’s like the father she never had. Always having her back and giving her the best advices.

“We were teenagers. Stupid kids. I was in love, he apparently wasn’t. One day we were just chilling together when his phone starts getting texts. He brushes it off, saying it’s just a friend and when he falls asleep I go through his phone. They weren’t just friends. There were thousands of texts for months between the two. He lied to me… I just wanted him to be honest and he straight lied to me! We had a race the next weekend and I was able to brush the situation off, because when I enter the track I forget about the outside world. But when I enter the paddock, the guys just start shoving me and stuff like that. Me being the only girl was not easy in any way but I managed it the best I could. Then, I don’t know… I just loose the control of the car and the next thing I know I’m into a wall. I don’t even know how it happened, I can’t even remember. I just remember having this tremendous amount of pain in my leg. After two surgeries and a lot of recovery and rehab I was back in that car.”

Fernando just looks at the young woman, whose eyes have unshed tears.

“If you ask me if I hold a grudge towards him, yes, I really do. He never apologized, never spoke to me again. But that’s what keeps me going. This fire I feel inside of me is what brought me here to formula 1.”

•

part 2 here

[lalunanymph]

THE MAKING OF A MRS.

🗝️ LESSON 1: BECOMING MRS. QIN

shackled to sylus and stuck in the N109 zone and with no way of leaving until you figure out how to remove the aether core bond between the two of you, you take up his offer (and begrudging help) to try and blend in with his high-stakes, high-rewards life. how? by learning struggling to be his wife

ᥫ᭡ fem!reader, arranged marriage, slow burn, contract marriage, fluff, crack, we stress sylus out so badly....

ᥫ᭡ dawn says: hehe im so EXCITED to share this like u have no idea </3 fluff/crack for arranged marriage is something i've always wanted to explore and this idea is perfect to take a dive in 🥹 i hope u all loved this as much as i had fun writing it <3 ps: no steamy parts... yet 🫣

⇢ ˗ˏˋ main directory | lesson 2

“What do you mean I should chop off my hand?” 

Your seething and refusal to submit to his suggestion draws the first pulse of a migraine in Sylus’ right temple. 

Taking refuge back in his mansion after the Salon Hotel explosion, his face is pale amidst the black upholstery, though his grimace never falters. The air is ripe with tension, and you try for the umpteenth time to free your wrist from the morose reality of being shackled to one dangerous and trigger happy Onychinus leader.

You can tell he isn’t exactly thrilled by this new development as well, his jaw tight and ruby eyes flickering to your face, simmering with irritation.

But, he tempers down his vexation, preferring to think forward.

As a marked man since time immemorial, he’s never had the privilege to sit around and revel in misery; always working one step forward on the chess board while he peels his glinting eyes towards the bigger picture.

And right now, there is only one variable he can foresee until this little mess gets sorted.

Sylus’ lips curl into a smirk, and you can tell he has a potentially life threatening idea brewing in that sick mind of his. As much as you try to figure it out, predicting his behavior is out of your reach. One could never tell where a flame was going to fall and explode into a blaze.

“We will stay here and figure it out,” he promises. “In the meantime, I want to strike a deal.”

Your scowl is adorable, if a little uncalled for in a moment like this. When Sylus told you the both of you were more alike than you would think, he never anticipated actually having to be in your vicinity 24/7. 

“Do not show your claws to me like that, kitten,” he mutters curtly. “It was not I who was hellbent on locating the Aether core.”

Your glare gives way to confusion when he stands, tugging you along for the ride.

“Hey—where are we going?”

You huff and try to keep up with him, your right hand dangling limply in front of you as you struggle to match his longer strides.

Sylus doesn’t reply, his gaze locked in the front, mind a million miles away.

You don’t open your mouth again, not sure what to expect when he leads you right into his office. There, on his desk, is a stack of papers, and you have no choice but to hover beside him as he takes out what looks like a declaration form.

Squinting, you try to make out the words, but from your vantage point that’s blocked by the back of his head leaning absurdly close to the document, you can hardly tell what he’s scribbling.

“As it is, the N109 Zone is already a dangerous place for its civilians and made even worse for a Linkon citizen to be caught here.” He stands, tucking the paper into his coat pocket. The sudden movement inadvertently tugs you forward so your chest brushes against his sternum. Locks of frosty white hair fall into his face, tips brushing the highest points of his cheekbones.

You tear your eyes away, clearing your throat. “And?”

You wait for him to continue. Sylus doesn’t.

Instead, he heaves in a deep breath, and you raise your head, thrown off guard by the sheen of pain in his eyes. They waver upon you with such a lonesome, tragic veneer you think he’s about to announce his departure from this world.

Not—

“In order to keep you and my interests safe, we have to concoct a plausible story for everyone to believe. Having you constantly around me is not only a liability, but people will start to conspire.” He exhales a deep sigh. “Which is why I have drafted a document to bind us together in marriage for the remainder of your... unfortunate stay here in the N109 Zone.”

His words trickle with condescension, though you’re completely hung up on the singular one which makes you pause and double back.

“What?” You’re all but shrieking. “Sylus, are you saying you’re going to make me marry you?”

He winces slightly at the sharpness of your trill. Sighing, he brushes an invisible piece of lint from his shoulder, looking unimpressed.

“What I am saying, little hunter,” his lips curl into a sardonic smirk. “Is that until we figure out how to overcome this minor inconvenience together—” Sylus lifts his left hand, purposely dangling your right hand in his face much to your squawk of dismay that barely fazes him. “We have to prove our marriage is believable. Or else, you and I will suffer the consequences.”

He mutters those words with such finality, it’s hard not to envision guns hidden right in the shadows, their barrels trained right on your susceptible foreheads.

You shiver and don’t speak for a moment. Sylus drops his hand, stepping back until the invisible shackle can’t allow anymore give, gracefully providing you some personal space to work through this grave solution.

“Say I agree—”

“There is no room for objection,” he interjects firmly. “We have no other choice, kitten.”

Your mouth thins, a line of discomposure that he doesn’t miss. It’s not that you don’t agree with his idea, it’s just the execution would possibly squeeze all the sanity out of you.

You don’t know Sylus. You can’t trust yourself to handle such a dangerous man. Perhaps, death would be a kinder alternative than navigating such baffling terrains with a man who for all intents and purposes, has just tried to blow you up a few hours ago. 

He sighs, as if reading your mind. “Such an arrangement is unconventional. But, in order to make this work, we would need a few ground rules here.” 

Sylus starts before you can interrupt him.

“We will have a safeword to signal when either of us—most likely you—is in danger. I vouch for ‘bullet’.”

Despite the horrors of this situation, you manage a snort. “I can’t take that word seriously—knowing you, a gun will always be in the picture.”

His expression twists with something akin to humor. Sylus arranges it back into neutral waters, gazing at you with a look of veiled curiosity. “Alright then, you smart little cookie. What would you suggest?”

You tap on the tip of your nose to think, going back and forth until you settle on something innocuous yet also obvious.

“‘Guts’,” you finally murmur. He raises a brow. 

“So, ‘bullets’ is out of the question, but somehow, ‘guts’ make perfect sense? Are you desperately pinning all your hopes on me to never mutilate a body?”

The mental image of Sylus covered in gore up to his arms while you’re still cuffed helplessly next to him, makes you shiver.

“Then, have you ever considered not mutilating someone while I’m shackled to you?” 

He pauses for a moment longer than necessary. “Fine,” the white-haired devil finally agrees. “You're dreadfully boring, kitten. But, I concede. No mutilating people while we're shackled together. Next.” Sylus clears his throat, and makes to cross his arms, but that just draws you closer to him, your feet stumbling forward.

Frowning, he drops them, tilting his head back with a godawful deep sigh.

“Bed,” he says past gritted teeth. “And bathroom requirements. I would personally prefer for us not to be within an arms’ reach while we’re doing our business.”

The mental image of him hunched over the toilet bowl, face all scrunched up as he’s suffering from morning bowel movements while you’re there, uncomfortably in the background, makes it impossible to stifle a giggle. 

“Oh, so you think that is funny?” He arches his brow again. “What if you had an emergency, hmm? Would you still be this mirthful if you knew that I know what your… excretions… sound like?”

The fact that a foreboding, tall and dangerous man like Sylus Qin has just uttered the word ‘excretions’ in a sentence makes it impossible for you to contain your laughter. You double over, wiping tears from your eyes; he probably thinks you’ve already lost it.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly repressing the trauma such a mental image branded into him, and forces himself to move on. 

“When we pretend to be husband and wife, our proximity would make sense. We could go into bathrooms together—sleep together. No one will know the—”

“Wait,” your composure returns after being doused with that shocking cold news. “A-are you saying we have to sleep on the same bed?” 

Sylus looks at you like you're a toddler who was asked to stop chewing dirt. “Unless you have a cheap parlour trick to physically regenerate your hand after chopping it off, then, yes,” he answers curtly. “We have to share a bed—isn't it wonderful?"

The bathroom is one thing—such gross indecencies barely phase you after months of being forced to sleep in a cramped dorm room with over 20 other female Hunter trainees. It’s the idea of your bed—your oasis—being tainted by his presence that pushes your nerves into overdrive.

You can hardly trust a knife to him without imagining it stuck somewhere in someone’s ribs, much less your vulnerable state while you were asleep.

The energy chain hums between you two, seeming to pick up on your despair.

Sylus purses his lips. “Look, kitten. I myself am hardly a fan of this arrangement. However, certain measures need to be taken to make things easy and as pain-free as possible for the both of us. We have to accept that we’re no longer individuals, but a team.” 

He steamrolls past your protests, shushing you with his next words. “An unconventional team of four feet, four limbs, two brains. Four eyes. We are not two people—but one. The sooner you accept it, sweetie, the faster we can resolve this problem. Do you understand me?”

There’s nothing else you can add or subtract without taking away the shittiness of this situation—you’re locked in with him, for better or for worse.

“Okay,” you muster enough courage to mutter. “Four feet, four limbs, two brains, four eyes. Got it.”

Sylus gives a nod, moving briskly into business.

“The first thing we shall do is this—” 

He removes the earlier document from his coat pocket, smoothing it out onto the large blackwood desk so you can read it. “These are the terms and conditions of a standard N109 Zone wedding. Unlike the tedious traditions of Linkon, there are no witnesses needed here. No tea ceremony, either. In fact, as proof of how easy it is, we can commence to be wedded right here and now. All you need to do is sign here and here, and we’re done.”

Sylus has already scrawled his signature under the agreement, and right underneath it, an empty dotted line yawns, waiting for your consent.

A pen materializes right by your hand. The dark mist of his Evol is cold when it brushes against your skin, retreating after procuring your one-way ticket to hell.

You pick it up, pulling back on the energy bond so you can use your dominant hand to sign this damning agreement. 

One loop. A scratch.

And it’s done.

It's a mockery of your wildest imagination. 

You're now a married woman, and next to you, looking forlorn and cross, is your brand new husband.

— reblogs and feedback is appreciated <33 i appreciate all ur support <3

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, take elements of my story and claim it as yours. i strictly do not allow translations of my works across other platforms.

[shomatoriashi]

02/09/25; 09:40pm

sylus x fem.reader

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @daturasflower | @madam8

warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting.

you let out a sharp gasp of pain, feeling a dull ache forming against your temples as you struggled to keep your nausea at bay.

this had to be a migraine, one that was potent enough to make your stomach turn sour as your brain was felt pounding against the confines of your skull. your boyfriend had left momentarily to grab the groceries that had been delivered to your shared home-

leaving you feeling dizzy and alone as you braced yourself against the onyx counters. your vision had gone hazy, casting what looked like spider webs across your line of sight, your steps uneven when you attempt to walk into a nearby restroom.

you became dimly aware of heavy steps and a grunt of your name, a powerful pair of arms wrapped around your form to help with your balance. “sweetie, what’s wrong?”

you swallow thickly, struggling to get the words out, “sick… bathroom, now!”

needing no further urging from you, sylus picks up your form with ease, taking quick strides towards your master bedroom as he helped you brace yourself over the toilet. you hid your face, your dry heaves echoing throughout the area as you felt the contents of your lunch come out of you. along with the horrible sensation of puking your guts out, the intensity of your headache seemed to grow by a tenfold, leaving you drained and miserable by the end of it all.

sylus flushed the toilet, wiping at your face with a damp and warm handkerchief. he wipes at the corner of your mouth with concern shining within his rufescent eyes. “what happened? we ate the same meal for lunch-“

“migraine… it came suddenly.” you admit to him with a gasp, practically clinging to sylus’s broad chest when he carries you out of the bathroom and into your shared room.

“i told you that you needed to stop staying up so late, waiting for me. that migraine must have been triggered by your lack of sleep.” sylus gently scolds you, and you could only bring yourself to let out a soft whimper in response. clinging to the front of his shirt, you rest the side of your cheek against his chest, allowing sylus to settle you on top of the bed.

placing the comforter over your form, sylus disappears momentarily before coming back into the room with some medication and a cold bottle of water in hand. he takes out two white tablets and hands them to you, “take this. it should help with easing your pain.”

you nod, praying that your vision would return to normal soon when you place the tablets within your mouth. taking the bottle of water, you uncap it and drink as much as you could handle, making sure that you had swallowed the tablets.

a few minutes later, the webs finally dissipate from your vision while dimming down the harsh intensity of your migraine to a tiny simmer. your mind was clearer now, and you were able to see sylus’s smug face smirking down at you.

“hm, what’s got you grinning like that?” you ask while giving his chest a poke with your fingertip. he simply shakes his head, letting out a rich chuckle while grabbing a hold of your hand to place a kiss at the back of them. “nothing, sweetie, it’s just… i find it nice to see you depending so much on me. i could honestly get used to it.”

you roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance while at the same time gripping his wrist. you pull him into the bed, and despite how laughable it was to think that you could ever overpower sylus-

he falls into the plush mattress with you, already taking you within his arms while rolling back into bed. feeling the sensation of his sweet kisses against your hair, you visibly relax while clinging to him. no words were spoken, yet you could feel the depths of his devotion for you through his actions alone.

perhaps you could get used to relying on him as well ♡

end notes: hhhhh i wanted to write and post something cute for valentine’s day for all the lads men, but i have a bad headache, so have some fluff with my favorite husband instead 😖

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[nicejewishgirl]

I’ve literally been up every 30 minutes and need to be out of the house and arrived at by destination by 8:30 along w/ taking care of everything related to my family/dogs/household. I should try to sleep for another hour… hell who am I kidding… another possible 30 minutes but then it’s always harder to wake up. ahhh the life of an insomniac. getting to sleep isn’t even my problem anymore (it used to be so bad) but it’s staying asleep that just is impossible (especially on antibiotics and some of my other meds). that whole saga in the notes.

[imagineweasley]

Sirius Black’s Guide to Overreacting

Remus Lupin x reader, Sirius Black older brother

summary: you are sirius's little sister and you are dating remus, but keeping it from your protective older brother. james "accidentally" lets it slip and sirius is not happy.

warnings: some mention of sex?? but also not really but a little bit.

y/n: your name

submit a request!

author's note: inspired by ross finding out chandler is with monica in friends!

--

"REMUS LUPIN I WILL TORTURE YOU SLOWLY UNTIL YOU DIE A SLOW PAINFUL DEATH!" Remus and y/n sprang apart when they heard Sirius bellowing down the hall. The few others who were also in the common room jumped as well. Sirius never used Remus's actual name unless he was angry, and this was the angriest y/n had seen him since his Dumbledore chocolate frog card had been stolen. The couple exchanged worried looks while the Fat Lady's indignant cries mingled with Sirius's yells, "MR. BLACK, YOU SLAM MY DOOR ONE MORE TIME AND YOU WILL BE SLEEPING IN THE HA--" her voice cut off as the door closed.

Sirius emerged, the picture of fury. His eyebrows were furrowed, his forehead vein was pulsing violently, and his fists were balled up, knuckles white. Y/n thought for a second that steam would actually start pouring out of his ears. He stomped towards the couple, or rather, towards Remus; his wide, dark eyes were fixed on him. In an attempt to look casual, Remus turned and leaned over the back of the couch to look at y/n's red-faced brother.

"What's up, Pad--"

"What's up?! WHAT'S UP?" The couple flinched and inched toward each other in fear.

"Merlin's beard Sirius, what--"

He whirled towards y/n, pointing his finger accusingly. "AND YOU! YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP TOO!"

"Don't talk to her like that!" Remus instinctively sprang up to protect y/n from her raging brother, even though they all knew Sirius wouldn't do anything to her. Sirius's black hair slapped him in the face as he immediately spun back around to glare at his friend.

The yelling triggered y/n's younger sibling instincts to poke the bear and see how far she could push him. She cooed, "Well, considering you haven't told us what's going on, I actually don't know what's going on, lovely brother." She then smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. Remus groaned.

Sirius's eyes grew even darker as he huffed and puffed, and as he opened his mouth to continue, the door swung open again and the Fat Lady's shrieks filled the rooms once more. "MR. POTTER, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU WOULD LIKE TO JOIN MR. BLACK IN SLEEPING OUTSI--"

James sauntered in with his usual bored expression and Peter scurried in after him.

"Padfoot, I thought I heard your melodic tunes." James stuck his hand in his pockets and leaned against the wall. "Sorry I couldn't catch him you two, he really is quick when he wants to be." James addressed Remus and y/n, taking in the sight of Remus still standing protectively in front of y/n.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at James. "James," she said in a warning tone, "What did you do?" James shrugged in response and ambled over to the nearest couch. He flopped onto the cushions and took out a snitch from his pocket, and began tossing it up in the air and catching it. Peter wrung his hands in the corner, looking nervously at everyone.

"Well..." another throw and catch, "I might have accidentally let it slip that perhaps you and Moony have been -- well, fucking."

Y/n's eyes grew wide in horror and she began to stomp towards him, but Remus beat her to it. Blood rushed to his face in anger as he flew over to James to thump him.

"James Fleamont Potter, I swear to MERLIN you are such a GIT!" James merely looked up indifferently at his glowering friend.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE MAD, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" The lamps shook and candles rattled in their holders at the noise.

"SIrius!" Y/n stepped forward cautiously, but he didn't seem to hear her. She tried again, "SIRIUS!" and failed once more, and on the last "SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" He whirled around and scowled at her.

"WHAT!"

"JAMES DIDN'T TELL YOU THE WHOLE THING!"

Sirius's eyes narrowed and a slight look of confusion took over. "Explain, then. Right now."

Y/n sighed and chose her words carefully. "Remus and I -- we're not--" she grimaced, "Fucking. I mean yes, I guess we are, that's what happens when you--" She then started rambling but skidded to a halt upon seeing the fire return to my brother's eyes, "That's -- what I mean is, Remus and I... we've been in a relationship for a while."

The whole of the common room could hear the wheels creaking in Sirius's head as he processed y/n's words. The whole of the common room was silent, and the other students' eyes bounced back and forth between Sirius, Remus, and y/n, as if watching a three way tennis game.

"A... a relationship?"

Remus took the opportunity to jump in and explain. "Yes! It's not nothing, we haven't been just hooking up. I'm... I'm in love with your sister--" you blushed a bright pink, "--and I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner but I just didn't want our friendship to change."

The silence was agonizingly deafening. Sirius stared at Remus, and y/n's heart pounded as she tried to read her brother's face.

"A relationship." Remus nodded furiously. "So... how long..."

"About seven months now." Sirius turned slowly back towards y/n. "Seven... seven?" Y/n nodded meekly and waited for his response.

"How did you... how did you two hide..." Sirius trailed off. No one spoke. The only movement in the room was the flickering fire.

Sirius stared blankly at the wall for a few moments before speaking again. "Are you happy, y/n?"

"Of course I am Siri, this is the happiest I have ever been, and Remus really treats me so well. I love him, Siri." Now it was Remus's turn to blush. The knot in y/n's stomach uncoiled as Sirius's gaze softened.

"Alright then..." he nodded resolutely, and then the most unexpected thing happened.

Sirius began jumping up and down, punching the air in delight, and he yelled, "MY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND! MY BABY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND!" He pulled y/n to him and jumped her over to Remus, who was staring, stunned.

"COME ON YOU GUYS! THIS IS A CELEBRATION! MY SISTER AND MY BEST FRIEND!" His other arm was now around Remus, jerking him around with each jump. Remus and y/n looked at each other bewildered, and then burst into laughter. They started jumping with him, squealing, and then jumped over to Peter and dragged him into the circle.

Sirius broke out into a loud and off-tune rendition of the Hogwarts school song, "HOGWARTS, HOGWARTS, HOGGY WARTY HOGWARTS, TEACH US SOMETHING PLEEEEASE! JAMES ARE YOU HEARING THIS?"

Y/n looked over at James, who had frozen on his couch, the snitch flapping violently in his hand. "Come here James! Come join us!" After a beat, James threw his head back in laughter and sprang to his feet to join the circle. In all the excitement, the snitch had escaped from his hand and fluttered above their heads. The group all jumped up and down for a few more minutes while Sirius finished the song, and then panting, they slowed to a halt.

Remus grinned and wiped some sweat from his forehead. "I guess James wasn't completely wrong, I mean, it did start when we got drunk and--" Remus's eyes widened into the size of fanged frisbees as he slowly realized what had slipped out. Y/n's face dropped into her hands.

"I'm just kidding! I'm just... kidding..." Remus backed away carefully, his palms outstretched in submission. Sirius followed him menacingly. He was still panting, but now more so from rage than from leaping around.

Y/n threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, "Oh, Remus, my sweet, sweet idiot, I think you should start running." Remus looked at y/n in horror before taking off.

In the blink of an eye, Sirius was chasing Remus around the common room, Remus yelling, "WAIT A SECOND, LISTEN HERE, LISTEN PADFOOT--"

Laughing, y/n flopped onto the couch between James and Peter, where they had collapsed after the jumping fiasco. She punched his arm playfully, "You're an asshole, you know that?" James laughed and shrugged, feigning innocence.

They watched the chase and James wondered, "How long do you s'pose they'll be going for?"

Peter smiled, amused, and replied, "I don't know but they seem to be going strong to me."

Y/n waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, we'll just let them tire themselves out." And they watched the boys sprint around the common room for the next half hour.