#put yourself in a position where they don’t have to say they care

[delugyu]

bsf kai and dry humping send tweet

ohhh anon u get me so well 😇

(wc: 2.3k / warnings: college au, virgin loser kai, corruption kink, some humiliation, dry humping, cumming in pants)

Hanging out with Kai is usually a very routine thing: you get food somewhere around campus, you bring him back to your dorm, and you talk for hours until he decides to leave—or until you convince him to go to some frat party with you.

“This sucks. I need to stop saying yes to you all the time.” His words make you laugh. You both know he’ll never stop saying yes to you.

“You might enjoy things more if you actually try to have fun,” you say. “Or if you have one of these.” You hold your plastic cup out to him until he takes it from you, staring at it like it’s some foreign object.

“I don’t drink,” he finally replies, looking up at you again. It’s funny how awkward he looks with the drink in his hand. He’s so stiff and uncomfortable.

“Liar. We got wasted together last month.”

He flushes red at your callout. “That’s different! It was only us!”

You roll your eyes. “Everyone’s drunk here. What difference does it make?”

Kai pouts and looks off to the rest of the people. Everyone’s dancing and singing and playing drinking games, meanwhile you and Kai are stuck leaning against some wall where no fun is going on. Boring! You take his arm and start pulling him towards the party, throwing him a grin over your shoulder as his eyes bug out at your boldness.

You stop when you’re deep enough into the crowd, turning to Kai expectantly. You laugh when you notice how tense he is. It’s like he forgot how to move his body like a normal human.

“Chug this!” you shout over the music, poking the cup that’s still in his hand. He looks around like he’s scared he’ll get caught doing something bad. You sigh, “Fine, don’t. Give me that.” You take the cup back from his hand and swallow the rest of the liquor. You hiss at the burn in your throat before throwing the empty cup over his shoulder, not caring where it lands.

Kai’s head turns to follow the cup’s movement, but you bring his attention back to you with a hand on his face. “Shouldn’t we pick that up?” he asks, even as you’re squishing his cheeks together in your hand.

“Let the frat boys take care of it tomorrow,” you say. He looks like he’s about to argue against that, so you continue before he can, “Do you want to dance?”

He’s taken aback. Your hand drops from his face to his shoulder, resting there as he figures out his answer. “Dance? I don’t—I’m not really”—

“You don’t want to dance with me?” You pout, trying to tug at his heartstrings. He opens and closes his mouth stupidly, and it makes you giggle. You put your other hand on his chest and blink innocently at him.

“I’ll dance with you,” he answers, cracking under the pressure like you knew he would. As previously established: he will always say yes to you.

“Yay!” Your smile must be lighting up the whole room with how much joy you feel. You tug Kai closer to you, trying to get him into position, but he keeps his hands still as stone beside him. “Kai. Hands here,” you say as you guide them to your hips.

“Oh. Sorry.” You hold in your laugh, not wanting to fluster him too much.

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” you tease, poking his nose. The two of you stand there unmoving, and it’s cute at first, but you get a little tired of it after a minute. You let the music guide your hips, singing along to the song and enjoying yourself. Kai is more like an accessory than a dance partner with how he just watches you.

You trail your finger down his chest, trying to encourage him to be a little more playful and let loose. It seems to have the opposite effect—his hands go stiff on your hips, fingers digging in.

“Have fun! Don’t think about it so much,” you say before swaying again. You try moving closer to him so your bodies press together, but he takes a step back. You pull your eyebrows together, looking at him in question.

“I-I’m probably not the best person to dance with,” he stammers out. You roll your eyes.

“Getting all awkward with me now? Come on, I thought we were closer than that.” Your faux pout returns to your face, but it leaves when you see the frown on his. Oh no, you didn’t embarrass him, did you?

You’re quick to try to fix your mistake. “Or not! We can always sing. I like singing too.”

His frown doesn’t leave his face. Okay, no singing! That’s fine too! You try thinking of something else.

“We can find an empty room and just hang out there?” you suggest, figuring he might not want to be surrounded by all these people anymore.

His face finally morphs into something less pitiful. You almost sigh in relief. “Let’s do that,” he says.

You push your way through the crowd until you’ve made it to the stairs. You groan when you see the endless sea of couples making out on them. You’d yell at them to get a room, but you don’t want them to take one from you and Kai.

“Sorry, coming through, don’t mind us,” you say as you squeeze past everyone.

“Oh my god. Stop,” Kai says, embarrassed. You wonder what it must feel like to care so much what people think of you.

You walk down the hall until you find an open room, bolting to it with a victorious cheer. Kai doesn’t follow with as much enthusiasm as you, but he still looks happy enough to be alone with you finally. You lock the door and turn on the light, looking around the room.

“Oh yeah. This place screams male college student,” you say, walking around the room. You pick up a bottle of lotion on the desk. “Seriously? Shameless,” you tsk.

“You probably shouldn’t go through people’s stuff,” Kai says. You turn to him, seeing him already sitting on the bed. He’s got a pillow thrown over his lap. You raise your eyebrow at that.

“You see a bottle of lotion and feel a little tingle down there?” His face glows red at your insinuation.

“No!!!” he retaliates, voice squeaking.

“Then what’s that about?” you say through barely held-back laughter. He hides his face in his hands. You almost want to coo at him. You join him on the bed and push his hands away from his face. He can barely make eye contact with you. “Hellooooo?” you giggle.

When he doesn’t respond, you try moving the pillow away yourself—you’re in a teasing mood—but Kai holds the pillow firmly against him. You really can’t contain your laughter now.

“Are you seriously hard right now?!” You find the situation so amusing. “From what?”

He whines and leans down until his face is buried in the mattress. You almost feel bad for torturing him so much, but he signed up for this when he became your best friend.

“From you,” he murmurs into the blankets, so muffled that you’re not sure you heard him right. You lift his head up a bit by his hair.

“Come again?” you prompt.

His face is still bright red. “When we were dancing. I just… ugh.” You go silent at that for a second. He’s hard because you danced with him..?

“That’s kinda hot.” It slips out before you can catch it. Not that you would have held it back, anyway.

He perks up when you say that. “What?” he asks.

“It’s hot that you got hard from that. Makes me feel good, actually,” you laugh, but it doesn’t sound teasing anymore. Kai straightens himself out, sitting up completely. He stares at you like he’s trying to decide if you’re pulling a prank on him or not.

You guess you’ll have to help him see how much you mean it. You swipe the pillow from his lap. He scrambles for it back, but you’re too quick for him this time. You giggle when your eyes land on his bulge.

“I’m sorry. I’m really not a pervert. I’m just…” he struggles to finish his thought. He bites his lip and looks away.

“Just what?” you ask, still hanging onto his words. His eyes meet yours, afraid to make his confession.

“A virgin,” he whispers.

Oh. A beat of silence follows. Something very evil and sinister creeps into your mind—nothing unusual—but this time, it’s centered around defiling your best friend. You had no clue that all this time he was a little virgin!

“Isn’t that so cute?” you coo, crawling up to him. He backs up, propping himself up on his elbows as you invade his space. He stutters out your name, looking at you with wide eyes. You smile down at him, tracing your hand down his chest much like you did earlier.

“Cute?” he asks, all breathy and nervous. You really try so hard not to smirk like an evil bitch at that, but you can’t help it. You are kind of an evil bitch.

“So cute,” you say. He gulps when your hand keeps traversing down his torso. His eyes follow your fingers down, down, down, until they reach his pants. Your hand dances along the front of his jeans, just lightly tracing over the button and hem.

Your pussy’s throbbing now, delighted at the thought of making Kai squirm beneath you. You meet his eyes with a whole lot of hope, praying he’ll let you have your fun. He shrinks a bit under your eager gaze.

“Can we help each other out?” you ask, crawling over him even more until your hips are hovering over his lap. Your noses touch, and you feel his shaking breaths on your face. You brush his hair back, wanting to put your hands all over him.

“I don’t know how to… help… a woman…” he admits meekly. It takes all your effort to not smother his face with kisses.

“Just lay down, I’ll take care of it,” you say sweetly. He blinks up at you, looking so much like a doll that it just makes you want to ruin him even more. As soon as he lays back, you push your hips down to meet his. His reaction is immediate, giving you a loud whine already.

“Such sweet sounds,” you praise as you start rocking your hips gently against him. He drops his mouth open, panting as you move just barely over him. You take his hands into yours, lacing your fingers together and holding his hands beside his head. “My cute best friend,” you coo, making him look away. That just endears you more.

“You’re embarrassing me,” he mutters, making you laugh. You kiss his jaw.

“My sweet Kai~” You seriously can’t stop yourself, the words spill out of you so freely. He can handle a bit of embarrassment, it’s okay.

You let yourself admire the view for a minute before leaning back to gain more control of your movements. You roll your hips as you grind against him, letting out a content sigh when your clit gets some stimulation. Kai whimpers when you speed up just a bit, trying to get a little more pleasure out of this.

“Y-you’re cute, too…” Kai says, then gasps at your hips rolling harder against him. “Like that, please, don’t stop!” he urges, looking up at you desperately.

How could you say no to that? You keep up your pace, making sure to keep him whining and moaning. “I’m glad you think I’m cute,” you say. Your hand moves up to play with your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples to get yourself there faster. You moan when Kai’s hips jolt underneath you.

His breath is hitching and his hips keep pushing up further into you. You grin, excited to push him over the edge. “Is my Kai gonna cum? Gonna make a mess in your pants like a virgin?”

“Mhm,” he hums out in response, nodding rapidly. You hasten your pace against him, pressing into him harder, moaning above him as you do. Your clit throbs with every roll, encouraging you to grind more deeply to reach your high.

“Cum for me, baby, tell me how good it feels,” you say, trying to get him to spill in his jeans. It seems to work, judging by the way he pushes his hips up against you as much as he can, so much that you feel the way his cock twitches in his jeans. It makes your head spin.

“Feels good! Ah, feels so good! Thank you, thank you!” His cries are what finally push you over the edge, hips stuttering as your legs tighten against him, muscles contracting as your orgasm rips through you. You’re left panting and trying to ride out your orgasm, letting your hips move sloppily against his until you’re both shaking from overstimulation. You slow down gradually, regaining your composure as the lustful haze clears the room.

“Fuck,” you groan, fully coming to a stop. Kai sits up and buries his head in your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he repeats like he’s agreeing. His chest heaves as he gets his breathing back under control. You tangle your hand in his hair, mindlessly playing with it as he breathes softly against you.

“So… virgin, huh?” you ask, grinning wickedly. Kai rolls his eyes.

“Spare me the jokes,” he says. “You already made me cum my brains out. Thanks for ruining my jeans, by the way.”

“That was all you.” You pat him on the back. “Now you’re one step closer to getting pussy. Look at you go, champ.”

He groans and leans further into you. “You’re the worst.”

“Uh-huh. Not what you said five minutes ago.”

“You were still the worst then, too,” Kai deadpans, making you laugh.

“You love me so much, don’t lie.”

“I do,” he says, joining in with your laughter.

[nisbanisba]

Got another prompt fic I wrote instead of jobhunting!! I am a functional adult!! (The job I’m a finalist for moves VERY SLOW so who knows what’s going on with it rn. Jobs are ass. Fanfiction is so much better)

Day 12 - This Is Not My Ceiling

Rated G - 673 words

(For the prompt “From Sickie to Medic”)

This isn’t his ceiling.

It’s spinning a little, for one thing, which the ceiling in his bedroom in Owen’s rental house doesn’t usually do. It’s not the ceiling in Carlos’s condo, either. It’s sloped and somehow concave and convex at the same time.

“Where’m I,” TK slurs, his throat swollen and dry. He moves to sit up, but his muscles are all somehow weak and tense at the same time, and he thinks his migraine is setting some sort of headache world record. His queasiness ramps up to full-blown nausea and he moans.

“Yo, don’t do that,” says a familiar voice. Nancy’s face swims into focus as she easily presses him back into what is definitely not his bed.

“Sick,” TK chokes out, and Nancy swiftly drags him into a sitting position and produces an emesis bin from nowhere at all. She holds his limp body as he gags and spits into the bin. Every muscle screams at the exertion, and the pain in his head ratchets up to 11. It’s like his brain has been plunged into a vat of hot oil.

“All done, bud?” Nancy’s voice floats through his cloud of agony eventually.

TK keens softly and whispers, “I think so.” His partner lays him back onto the cot with a gentleness he didn’t know she possessed, and tears spring to his hot, dry eyes. “What happened,” he rasps eventually.

“Got yourself a pretty good case of heat exhaustion,” comes another voice. Tommy rounds his cot, stripping her gloves into a wastebasket before leaning over to run a motherly hand through his hair.

“Oh, my god, what happened?” That’s confusing. TK just said that. Did he say it again without even meaning to?

“Hey, Carlos,” says Tommy. TK flops his head to the side and sees his boyfriend enter the tent, because that’s what’s wrong with the ceiling, he’s in a tent. Carlos is possibly even more beautiful than usual, glowing with perspiration, his uniform sleeves fighting for dear life against his absurd biceps, his curls breaking free of their gelled prison in the heat, spiraling around his head like a halo.

“Hi, baby,” sighs TK.

“Hey,” Carlos whispers, leaning over his cot and brushing a gentle kiss to his forehead, before straightening up and looking back at Tommy. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“Your boy worked a little too long in the heat and didn’t tell anyone he felt bad.” Tommy sounds unimpressed as she gestures outside the tent. The music festival, TK remembers, where they’d been called after a stage collapsed.

“Didn’t mean to. I was helping,” he says miserably. There had been a lot of injuries. “Don’t people still need help? Should you guys be in here with me?”

“There are more units on site, and the collapse is mostly cleaned up now. We’re helping you right now,” says Tommy gently.

TK snuffles. He didn’t mean to put everyone out like this. “I’m sorry.” Outside the tent, the bands are still playing, and it’s like they’re using his brain as a bass drum.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Just be more careful and tell us if you’re not okay next time,” says Tommy.

“Is he going to be okay? Does he need to go to the hospital?” asks Carlos anxiously.

Tommy and Nancy look at each other and Nancy murmurs something, too fast for TK to follow.

“Now that he’s awake, I’d like to see if he can keep some oral fluids down. He’ll rehydrate faster than with just IV fluids.” TK looks at his hands, surprised to see an IV in one. “After that, depending on his temp and BP, we can decide if he should get more treatment at the ER.”

TK groans. He hates the ER, at least as a patient. Carlos takes his hand, sitting in a folding chair that’s materialized by his cot. “You’ll do what they say, right?” Carlos asks, his big eyes worried and pleading.

“I’ll do what they say,” TK agrees reluctantly. “Nance, do we have any blue Gatorade?”

-fin-

For a great tarlos heat exhaustion fic please check out The Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival by @chicgeekgirl89! It’s one of my favorites.

No need to reblog if you don’t want to, I already posted my wip Wednesday, but tagging a few who might be interested!! No worries if not, you can totally just shoot me in the face if you want!!! @eveningstar477 @eclectic-sassycoweyes @henrygrass @mrs-corrections-78 @carlos-in-glasses @sapphic--kiwi @lemonlyman-dotcom @pimento-playing-hopscotch @everlastingday @lightningboltreader @firstprince-history-huh @ladytessa74 @literateowl @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @welcometololaland @the-126-family

[orangeocelotmartyn]

sobbing and crying about the fact that Martyn can never say what he means especially about his emotions. He can wear the dogwarts banner on his waist, give him a life, give him netherwart in secret but he can’t tell ren or the world that he cares. Instead he hides behind his words (I was going to betray ren) because that’s all he can do when he knows there is something Watching him, preying on his vulnerability

[ceramicbeetle]

sonic and snufkin actually kind of feel like very similar characters to me. holding hands over “my personal sense of freedom and dedication to making decisions based on what I think is right is what matters most, and if you’ve built some idealized version of me in your head then that’s none of my business and it’s not my responsibility if the reality of who i am lets you down in some way”. also the deep connection to nature and all.

[rileyslibrary]

After suffering a gunshot wound, you wake up in a hospital bed with Ghost sitting by your side. Unfortunately, the effects of anaesthesia leave you unable to recognise him and, worse, confuse him with someone else.

A/N: Fluff. Based on a request I received a while ago. Hope you like it, anon!

———————————————————————

A machine on your left beeps rhythmically. The taste of something metallic lingers in your mouth, and the iodine smell stinks your nostrils. Your eyes open slowly, but the bright ceiling light forces them shut again. You lick your lips and attempt to swallow a couple of times. Dry. Your mouth is dry. You need water. Your hand moves towards your face, but a low, raspy voice advises you against it.

“Careful now,” it says, and a hand gently grabs your wrist. “Don’t pull the IV off.”

You turn your head towards the figure beside you and squint. It’s a man, but your blurry vision doesn’t help you identify him. Your eyes travel to your wrist and focus on the closest part of him: a skeleton’s hand.

You try to shake your hand off his grip, but it turns out futile. Frustrated, you give up and raise your middle finger at him.

“Not my time yet,” you declare. “Fuck off.”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Not ready to go yet,” you reply, tucking your middle finger in your palm and lifting it back up again. “And also, fuck off.”

The man releases your wrist, placing your hand gently beside you. He clears his throat and leans forward. Though your vision remains blurry, you spot what looks like a human skull with a hood over it.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks, his tone softer.

“How am I feeling, love?” you repeat. “Did Hell improve their customer service?”

“I’m not-” The man begins but pauses. He sighs, shakes his head and rests his elbows on his thighs. “Never mind.”

“Where am I?” You ask.

“Hospital.” He replies. “You took a bullet.”

Directing your attention to your body, you feel a dull throb in your chest. You wince as your fingers brush against the bandages.

“You are joking.” You reply and slap your hand on the bed. “Why? How?”

“Well,” He says and tilts his head to the side. “You exchanged a few shots with the enemy, your gun ran out of bullets, his didn’t, and here we are.”

“My gun?” You ask, shocked. “I have a gun?”

“Several.” He nods.

“SEVERAL?” You shout. “Why would I possibly need several guns?”

“It’s your job, love.” He replies.

“My job is to have several guns?” you ask. “And shooting at people?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he explains, “but it’s mainly for defence.”

“Well,” you shrug and wince at the pain. “Doesn’t look like I’m that good at defence—especially for having several guns.”

“I was really worr—”

“Water,” you interrupt and gesture at your mouth. “I need water.”

“Doctor said it’s not the time for water yet,” he replies.

“Why?” you ask, pretending to check a non-existent wristwatch. “What time is it?”

“No, love,” he replies and muffles a chuckle. “Doctor said you need to wait until you have some water.”

“You throw the ‘love’ thing a little too freely,” you mumble, licking your lips and lifting your index finger. “I’d be really careful if I were you.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why?”

“I,” you say and point at yourself, “got a boyfriend, thank you very much.”

“Oh,” he exclaims and tilts his head. “Is that so.”

“Yup,” you nod. “And he can kill you.”

“Can he?”

“Can?” You say, and a smug smile forms on your dry lips. “He will absolutely, one hundred and a thousand per cent kill you.”

“Is he that good?” He asks.

“I mean,” you shrug, motioning at the bandages on your chest. “He’s much better than I am.”

“Oh wow,” he exclaims and leans forward. “Is he as good of a boyfriend as he is a shooter?”

“Far from it,” you reply, letting your hand fall to your side.

The man doesn’t speak. He doesn’t seem that comfortable all of a sudden. He shuffles in his chair, trying to find a better position, and when he does, he clasps his hands together.

“Go on,” he finally says. “Spill it.”

“Ok, so,” you begin, “first things first, he doesn’t listen to me when I want to vent, and whenever he does, all he says is nonsense.”

“The lad gives you solutions,” he snaps, “and you call them nonsense?”

“I don’t want solutions, man,” you reply, shaking your head. “I want him to just listen to me.”

“Even if the solutions he provides are literally the answers to your suffering?”

“Even then.” You confirm.

“Gotcha,” he nods. “What else?”

“Oof,” you sigh, “how much time do you have?”

“I’m immortal,” he reminds you, “plus the next reaping is in five hours.”

“Oh boy,” you reply. “Business not going that well lately, huh?”

“Not many deaths to take care of,” he spits. “I guess some people could use some serious training when it comes to their aim.”

“Speaking of training,” you say, “he’s always at work and never spends much time with me.”

“The guy’s trying to spend as much time with you as he can, for fucks sake!” he shouts, throwing his hands up. “He even lied to get you on his team!”

“How do you know he put me on his team?” You ask.

“I keep a close eye on him.” He replies.

“What did he lie about?”

“Your precision in aiming,” he jokes and motions for you to continue. “Next one.”

“I can’t think of anything else,” you reply. “Other than he doesn’t say how much he loves me.”

“You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you?” He says, and his tone feels almost threatening. “He’s showing it to you daily; offering advice, keeping you close to him, even risking the possibility of being accused of nepotism for crying out loud! He doesn’t need to say it as well for you to know it!”

“It’s just nice to hear it sometimes,” you sigh and twist a thread from the bed sheet. You turn your head slightly toward him, and he lowers his head to the ground.

“How about you?” You ask. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I do,” he confirms.

“Shut up!” You shout, widening your eyes and immediately closing them back again. “Where did you guys meet?”

“Hell,” he replies. “Right in the pits of it.”

“How is she?” You ask.

“Perfect.” He states.

“Bullshit,” you murmur. “No one’s perfect.”

“She is to me.” He says, shrugging.

“Do you love her?” You ask.

“Absolutely,” he replies, nodding slowly. “One hundred and a thousand per cent I do.”

———————————————————————

[salemlunaa]

ೄྀsome of you STILL don’t understandೄྀ

you must get comfortable in your god state to really succeed

ೄྀPART I | STOP NEGOTIATING WITH THE 3D

To get comfortable in your god state you need to understand that it is you ALONE that manifests. Stop consuming and spreading misinformation, you don’t have to “meet in the middle”with the 3D for your manifestations.

“If you want your dream bod to be manifested you have to stand firm AND workout”

“If you want to manifest clear skin, it’s good to visualise but you should also be focusing on skincare”

“If you want to manifest good grades you can affirm but you actually have to study”

“You can’t expect to manifest when you aren’t bothering to do anything in the 3D”

bullshit. absolute bullshit

although it’s important to still take care of your necessities, there’s no such thing as meeting halfway for your desires. If you think that you don’t understand what manifestation is. And with the assumption that it is, means that you don’t understand your full potential. As soon as you think of a desire it’s yours, no negotiating needs to be done with the 3D. All you have to do is stand firm.

Why are you making deals with the 3D?, “okay, okay if i workout in the 3d and manifest my dream body in my 4d it will come” that just isn’t needed

“okay but it does help things move faster” “it does help things become a little easier” nope, still wrong!

you don’t have to lift a finger for something that’s already yours. never. same goes for inducing pure consciousness, you don’t have to spend hours saturating your conscious mind in order to shift. You can have the worst day and still induce pure consciousness because that’s all it is: a state of consciousness.

ೄྀPART II | EVERYTHING YOU DO IS PERFECT

To get comfortable in your god state you must also understand that you’re doing it all right. Stop asking dumb questions, you’re doing everything correct. The fact that you rely on bloggers to tell you if you should do this or that as if they’re your god shows that you don’t truly understand (and it’s getting really frustrating).

“will i still be able to induce pure consciousness if I lay on my side rather than in a starfish position?”

“do i have to affirm?”

“what if i don’t do this one blogger’s method to the minute details, does this mean i won’t shift?”

asking stupid questions like these confirms that you still don’t understand the extent of your power, you still don’t understand who you are.

And if you don’t understand, you will never progress, treating this like a chore that you have to perfect is where you go wrong. As a god, everything you do is correct, you could even induce pure consciousness by standing straight up and singing heavy metal at the top of your lungs, because what ever you say goes.

Stop sitting back up after minute 5 of it “not working” to check if you’re doing that method correctly. Why does you living your dream life depend on other people’s rules, are they the gods of your reality or is it you?

And you do know this still counts as you putting the void state on a pedestal? There are people who find out about pure consciousness and induce it that same day. Get your head in the game.

1: You don’t have to lift a finger for your dream life

2: You’re doing everything correct, you are “I AM” trust that and you’ll induce in no time

Both of these things, negotiating with the 3D and asking if your doing it right in YOUR OWN reality are signs that you don’t trust yourself enough. Learn to actually trust yourself and accept your fate as a god and you’ll have everything you dream of

NOW GO GO GO, GO GET YOUR DREAM LIFE

🍵🪷To understand and succeed you must trust yourself

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a s/o falling asleep on their lap

The reason I have to post requests like this is because, for some reason, if I post them as Tumblr requests, I can’t find them again when I search for them. Making the masterlist was a real struggle. As usual, I’m using the headcanon to promote my longfic on Arcane, Everytime It Rains.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 |

Jayce:

It often happens when he spends the evening working instead of giving you attention.

You know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way, so you settle for climbing onto his lap, letting your limbs dangle, and resting your face against his chest.

He stays focused on studying the documents in front of him, but one hand holds your head steady to keep you from losing your balance.

He strokes your hair absentmindedly.

When he notices you’ve fallen asleep, he feels a warmth, a tender sort of affection. He doesn’t want to wake you but wishes he had something to drape over your shoulders.

After a while, it becomes his signal that he’s pushed himself too far with work.

That’s the moment when he lifts your face to kiss you before carrying you to bed.

Viktor:

The classic "working on the couch" position, where you first sit next to him to avoid disturbing him, then drape one leg over his lap, and eventually both. By the end of the evening, you’re fully curled up in his arms.

He holds your side, resting his cheek against your head while continuing to read his notes, basking in the warmth of that shared intimacy.

He asks you several times if you’re tired, and when you don’t respond, he smiles softly, realizing exhaustion has won you over.

He pulls the blanket up to cover you both, and even when you grumble in annoyance at his movements, he chuckles and just says, “Just a second”

He works for another couple of hours but never stops stroking your side or giving you small kisses on the forehead.

Ekko:

“Aw, someone’s sleepy here,” is the first thing he says when you take the overboard from his hands, and let yourself plop into his lap, already wrapped in a blanket like a cape.

He doesn’t even try to go back to what he was doing. Instead, he pulls you close, rubbing his face against yours, taking in your scent.

He loves it—maybe even more than cuddling lying down. He enjoys the weight, the shape of your body, and being able to cradle you.

Because of this, he doesn’t ask if you’d rather lie down; he stays put, ensuring your rest is protected.

It’s only when you’re fully asleep and start shifting to find a more comfortable position that he decides to carry you to bed, staying there with you afterward.

Vander:

I’ll be honest, would.

The underground city is freezing due to the lack of light that filters in, all the glass and steel radiating cold from the outside. That’s why there’s no place more comfortable than this man’s laps.

You usually do it when the bar is still closed, and only a few close friends are inside. When you know he isn’t on the defensive and you won’t slow him down.

He laughs, keeping one hand on your back to support you, and points out to anyone around him that it’s good for you to get a little rest.

If you stay asleep even after the bar opens, he’ll grab a chair and sit it beside him so he can take care of the larger tasks first and then return to you in his lap.

But if it’s the weekend, when things can easily heat up, he’ll delay opening just to get you to bed, give you a kiss, and apologize for leaving you alone.

Silco:

Can we normalize this man as a piece of furniture?

It’s not even about being tired or wanting attention, sometimes it’s just the comfort the situation itself provides.

The way the swivel chair rocks, the vinyl on the record player, the intense, greenish light pouring through the window, and enjoying his delicate fingers in your hair while the entire city stretches out beneath you.

He doesn’t ask why you do it, nor if you want to move. He assumes that if you wanted something different, you would simply ask, so he continues to give you those small attentions endlessly.

He keeps you on the side of his good eye, so he doesn’t have to turn his head to check on you, but can discreetly notice if your expression changes or if you fall asleep.

These are the moments when Sevika knows that no one is supposed to enter his office, so you can have a bit of peace.

Jinx:

She’s always busy, always active, always too loud. Sitting in her lap sometimes seems almost like a necessity to keep her still and focused on just one thing.

“Awwww, my little bug is sleepy?”

She hums while holding you in her arms, one hand still trying to get her projects done.

If too much time passes, she’ll bend her knees and push herself forward, making the swivel chair move in the direction she wants so she can stay occupied while talking to you about whatever crosses her mind.

If she feels your breathing change, that you’re falling asleep, she suddenly freezes, as if to let you rest.

She pulls you closer, caresses you, kisses your temples, and carries you to her little couch.

Vi:

If manhandling were a woman

When you sit on her lap, she treats you like you’re a cat: fine. It will end there.

Does she need to pee? No, she doesn’t anymore.

She can’t disturb you, or you might get up and leave.

But when it starts to become a constant, she’ll cover your back and simply hold you while she does what she needs to do.

If you complain, she’ll kiss you, apologizing and reassuring you that you’ll be back on the sofa soon, asking you to hang on.

She enjoys that closeness, your breath on her skin, the trust in that action.

The moment she sits back down or rests, she’ll shower you with cuddles, even if you’re asleep or pretending to be.

Caytlin:

She’s the one to ask if you want to sit in her lap, worried that she’s neglecting you.

She keeps you with her, even if you’re asleep, supporting you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or lose your balance.

Her biggest fear is not being able to express how much she cares for you, how happy she is to have you there.

The quickest way she knows to do that is through physical contact—the reassuring, warm kind.

“How was your day?” she asks, giving you space to talk and feel seen. She doesn’t want the things she has to do to take away from you, from the two of you.

If she still feels like she’s ignoring you, she’ll ask you to sit on the couch with her to watch a movie, or maybe in bed, cuddled up, just being close.

Mel:

I recognize mommy issues when I see them, and so does she. You’ve been caught.

She welcomes you into her arms almost playfully, gently caressing your hands and arms, speaking softly with her head turned toward you.

She knows it’s the easiest way for you to ask for attention, and she simply accepts it, letting you rest either in her arms or with your head on her lap.

She talks to you about her day, her plans, her worries as if telling you a lullaby, letting you rest on her concerns, including you in her mind so that you don’t feel like a burden.

If you fall asleep, she rests her chin on your shoulder and closes her eyes as well, enjoying a few minutes of peace, trying to sync your breathing together.

Sevika:

You live on the lap of this woman.

When she adjusts her arm, when you eat something on the couch, even at the bar while she plays cards or drinks, you’re always there.

The safest place in the underground city is on the massive legs of a woman with a mechanical arm, and that’s a fact.

Her initial fear, especially in public, was that someone might associate you with her and harm you.

But over time, it’s almost become a flex -you, pretty thing, are hers,

Every now and then, she checks to see if you’re okay, if you want to go to bed, if you’re comfortable, and with her healthy hand, she caresses your cheek while doing so.

At home, she always makes sure to cover you, to keep you close.

She doesn’t even go to bed unless you ask, enjoying the feeling of your body against hers.

[paarksunghoon]

Okay okay hear me out cuz I haven't stopped thinking about this. Sitting on boyfriend heeseung's lap and playing with his neck chain, giggling to yourself, telling him that you really like when he wears it. When he asks why, you shyly tell him that you imagine it dangling on your face while he's on top of you. And he loses his goddamn mind. ARGH

It’s kinda my dream for this to happen to me. bye

***

Neither you nor Heeseung are paying attention to the shitty movie playing on Netflix. You’re too preoccupied with chasing his lips and he’s too busy squeezing your hips to care that the film is halfway over.

It’s been like this for the past few minutes or so with your boyfriend, who you had been crushing on since the beginning of the year and him just a few months shy of that. It’s new, maybe only a week or so into this new relationship, but the newfound romance sparks curiosity within you.

His silver necklace has a small pendant in the middle and the chain against his skin makes him look like walking sex. Heeseung is far more experienced than you are, having gone through a phase in college where all he wanted to do was get his dick wet and make as many girls cum on his mouth, fingers, and cock before finally realizing all he wanted to do was settle down with one person.

His kisses are always so deliberate and calculated like he’s trying to prove something to you. His hands don’t wander for the fear of making you uncomfortable because he knows you aren’t as forward with your romantic past. Sex positivity and all of that; neither of you really care about how many or how little people you’ve collectively hooked up with because none of that matters when you have each other.

Still, thinking about how you paint yourself as some kind of saint makes Heeseung want to test your limits and it makes his dick jump every time he thinks about it.

The farthest you’ve gone was dry humping in his dorm room when his roommate was gone for the weekend. Again, this whole relationship is new and neither of you care to rush yourselves into it because you were friends before you became a couple. But even so, he has needs and so do you. It’s just a matter of pursuing sex when it feels right.

Heeseung feels your fingertips playing with the chain against the back of his neck. He smiles into the kiss and soothes your skin with his thumb, pulling back only slightly until his lips rest against yours.

“You like my necklace, baby?” he asks in a soft whisper, enjoying your plump lips against his. A giggle bubbles out of you and you can’t stop it. The sound reverberates against his mouth and Heeseung smiles wider, pushing his lips against yours. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head and peck him once. “Nothing. You look pretty with it on.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Your fingers caress the metal and his skin at the same time. “I really like it when you wear it.”

“Why’s that, baby?”

“I dunno.” You lean back and look at him, shrugging your shoulders like you want to say something more but don’t. “I just do.”

“C’mon. There must be a reason.” Heeseung squeezes your hips and smiles at you lazily. He watches you bite your lip and avert his eyes. So fucking cute.

“I’m too shy to say it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Heeseung promises, leaning forward to kiss your cheek tenderly. He waits for you to look at him and encourages you to talk to him by nodding. That heat creeps up your neck.

“I-I imagine it dangling over me sometimes.”

Heeseung’s hands freeze and grip your hips. “What do you mean?” You look behind him before he beckons you to look at him again.

“I…think about you on top of me with your necklace in my face.”

He gulps. “What are we doing?”

“Having sex.”

You say it so quietly. It’s barely a whisper but the way you say it makes you sound like being fucked is something you think about often. The gears in his head turn and he’s thinking about all of the mental images he’s conjured up in his head when he touches himself to avoid putting you on the spot whenever he gets horny.

But now it’s as if the gates are open. His mind is flooded with different scenarios but he can’t stop picturing what you’d look like underneath him, specifically with his necklace dangling over your tits as he pushes his cock into you for the first time.

“Heeseung?” you ask tentatively, afraid that you might’ve taken things too far.

Your boyfriend catches you by surprise. He bucks his already semi-hard dick up into your clothed lap and a groan emits from the back of his throat.

“Fuck.”

He scoops you up in his arms and ignores your yelp in favor of carrying you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped securely around him. Neither of you care that the TV is still on. Heeseung can only think about what you’d look like with his pendant right next to your mouth.

“I need to fuck you right now,” Heeseung moans when he places you onto the mattress and pushes his clothed dick against your core. “Need to see that right now.”

You don’t complain.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

MEDICAL LEAVE

𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Riding Toji in the morning...

Note: y'all I put my whole pussy into this... 1.2k words 🗿

Thank you for the help @saintkaylaa @xoxo-dede

You couldn't help but notice that Toji had morning wood every morning. It was normal right? It happened to every guy. At first, you try not to think much of it, pretending to stay asleep in the morning while he went to the bathroom to take care of it. It’s not like you wouldn’t help him out if he asked, but he never did. He didn’t want to inconvenience you this early in the morning, he thought. 

Until the day you finally built up the courage. You always woke up before him, spending a few minutes admiring the burly, sleepy man beside you. He always slept shirtless and in his boxers, giving you a good view of how his muscles flexed everytime he adjusted himself.  

Damn, he was gorgeous. In the rugged, rough around the edges sort of way. 

You’re so transfixed by his looks that you don’t realize that you're about to fall over his chest until you completely lose balance. You catch yourself before falling completely, your hand landing on his abs. Any normal person would have woken up but not Toji. He was still out like a light. 

Your fingers graze over his abdomen, your eyes fixated on his growing bulge. There it was again, the morning wood. You decide to take this as a challenge, how much teasing could he take in his sleep? Cautiously, you lightly graze your fingertips over where his shaft would be, his cock bobbing in response. Toji’s eyes flutter slightly as his lip twitches and you think you’re fucked. But no… heavy ass sleeper. 

With a little more pressure (and confidence), you press the palm of your hand down flat on his bulge and slowly rub against it. You let out a quiet giggle as you continue to rub his cock, excitement and pride growing in you. You lean towards his face to pepper soft kisses to his temple.

At this point, you’re growing just as wet as he was hard. You wanted him- no needed him to wake up. After a bit more rubbing, you decide to cautiously slip your hand down his boxers. You give his cock a firm squeeze, rubbing your thumb over the tip before looking up at him again. 

Nothing…

Damn, this man can sleep through an earthquake, you think to yourself. You peck his cheek again softly, your hands still teasing his shaft. You place another kiss and another, until you finally land on his lips. You freeze for a moment as his eyes flutter open. Green eyes immediately darting down to your hand. He closes his eyes again, letting out a deep groan.

“Fuck…”

You freeze as you look at him through your eyelashes, watching as he fights sleep. “Shh,” you lull, peppering his cheek with kisses. “Just go back to sleep.” you coo at him. Toji smirks at you, before closing his eyes again. “Someone’s needy,” he teases you. 

You run your finger over his tip again, causing him to groan again. “You know… you were hard in your sleep. I'm doing you a favor,” you reciprocate his teasing. 

“Oh yeah?” he mumbles, adjusting his position and putting an arm behind his head. You nod, your focus going back to stroking his cock. “You know what would help me out even more?” he asks. Curiously you look up at him and see a mischievous smirk on his face.

“What?” you smirk up at him, your hand keeping its pace on his cock. Toji holds back his whine, throwing his head back, “I-if you ride me.” He tries to compose himself, a soft grumble leaving his lips as he speaks. 

Your hand comes to halt, as you make eye contact with him again. Oh you weren’t done teasing him. “You have to say please, handsome,” you speak with a hint of playfulness in your words. Toji gave a quiet gasp as you spoke those words. His cheeks flushed slightly red and you don’t know if it’s from the summer heat or from the way that sweet pet name left your lips. Or maybe you do… 

“C’mon baby… say please,” You continue your mission, your index finger poking at his swollen tip. Toji mutters a curse under his breath before saying the words you wanted to hear. 

“Please… please ride me, woman.” He brings his hand up to his face to try and cover his embarrassment but it was too late. You were already hot and bothered and you planned to do something about it. 

“Good boy,” You purr into his ear with a giggle. Slowly moving to straddle him completely, using his chest to hold you still. Your fingers play with your lacy panties, moving them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Toji peeks through his fingers, watching your next move intently. You close your eyes, as you begin to slide down onto his length. 

The feeling of his fat tip, hitting that one sweet spot inside you automatically makes you dumb on his cock. And his girth and thick veins that run up and down the entirety of his shaft weren't helping at all. Toji just couldn’t tear his gaze of you, mouth slightly agape, as he watches his dick disappear in your pussy. 

Large hands come up to your hips before you could even move once. “W-wait…” Toji huffs, his breath shaky as he talks. “Move slow… I could cum right now…” He speaks with a whine, his voice a little lower than usual. 

You move just like he told you, painfully slow. Up and down on his length as Toji watches your every move. You look down at the man under you and fuck was it a sight to behold. Only you could see him like this, needy and whiny. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine, the heat in his gaze was filled with unspoken desire for you. 

Both your grunts and moans paired with the sounds of hot skin slapping against each other fills the room. You pick up the pace, riding his cock a little faster as the coil in your stomach flares up. 

So close. And it’s heavily visible on Toji’s face. Short, raven strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his eyebrows quirked together, eyes half lidded focused in on the way your cunt squeezed him. 

His hands grip tighter onto you, holding you in place. His thumb grazes over your clit. Fuck- that was it, just what you needed and even while being fucked out he knew exactly how to give it to you. 

“Fuck, fuck…”  He grunts loudly, reaching his climax. His hips sloppy buck into you, meeting your ragged movements. You finally reach your high, creaming all over his throbbing cock. He curses again, his hands shaking still holding onto you. Hot cum fills you right up as you ride out your orgasm. 

Your limp body collapses onto him. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to him as you both catch your breath. After a moment of silent bliss he finally speaks up with a smirk plastered all over his face. 

“What a morning…” He mutters with a chuckle. 

Masterlist

Discord

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Panic at the Disco

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

WC: 1.3K

Warnings: Maybe slight panic attack, insinuated sexual harassment/assault

Part 2

Masterlist

You rush through the club in a hurry, bumping into God knows how many people as you search for the exit. The hot, stuffy air makes it even more difficult to breathe as you keep pushing through the crowd. You can feel the wetness of your tears run down your cheeks as you reach the exit, nearly running into the bouncer checking IDs outside. You stand close to him as you wipe your cheeks and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down while you rummage through your purse in search of your phone. Taking a deep breath, you call your brother.

You wait impatiently as the phone rings. He doesn’t answer, so you call again. And again. Eventually, after three tries, the phone is picked up. 

“Hello? Max?” You say rushedly.

You hear some noise on the other side. In your frenzy, you don’t realise it’s not your brother, not from the mere grumpy hello the phone is answered with.

“Can you come pick me up? Please?” The sheer panic you’re experiencing is clear in your voice. Lando can even hear your sniffling through the phone as you wipe your hand under your nose. 

“Y/N? Is that you? Are you crying?” He asks, much more awake now as he sits up from his position on the couch.

“Who’s this? Lando?” You realise now that you hear him speak; it's your brother’s best friend – to your frustration.

“Yes.”

“Why are you answering my brother’s phone?” You ask annoyed.

“We were just hanging out, he fell asleep and—”

“You know what – it doesn’t matter. Can you tell him to come pick me up please?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, uhm, it’s called Palace, I think.” You sniffle. “You’ll send him to get me?” You ask hopefully.

“I’ll come get you myself. I’m just putting my shoes on, I’ll be there in a bit,” he says, putting your brother’s phone on speaker mode and stepping into his shoes.

“Lando you don’t have to come, just tell Max to come pick me up, please. I need him right now,” you say, frustrated that Lando wants to come. He’s not who you want and need at this moment; you need someone who you can trust, who’ll protect you and make you feel safe after what just happened. You need your brother, a close friend, or maybe even your father, but not Lando. Why can’t he understand that? You can feel your tears welling up again in frustration.

Lando ignores you, however. “Are you safe right now? You should try to find a group of people or something, stick to them until I get there, okay?”

“Lan—” He cuts you off, in a rush to get to you. 

“Do you want to stay on the phone? I’m getting in the car right now, I’ll be there in, like, eight minutes.”

“Lando, just send Max, please.”

“I’m already in the car. Do you want me to stay on the line, or not?” You hear the car revving in the background.

You sigh. Nevertheless, you’re relieved he’s on his way and you don’t have to stay here much longer. “That’s not necessary, Lando. I’m with the bouncer right now. Just come quick, please?” You’ve given up on the idea that your brother might come, Lando’s very much set in his ways.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lando says firmly before hanging up.

Although you and Lando aren’t the best of friends, you get along well enough. Regardless, you get caught up in discussions quite regularly; both of you are passionate and stubborn in your opinions – it rarely happens that you and Lando do not end up being separated by your brother or a mutual friend. However, that you know exactly how to push each other's buttons doesn’t mean Lando doesn’t care about you. In fact, the opposite is true. Although he would never admit it, Lando has liked you for quite a while and cares for you deeply, even though he doesn’t generally show his feelings. And so, when you call him (well, not him specifically, but that doesn’t matter) crying and upset, he worries about you. He could’ve woken up your brother, who you obviously would have preferred over him, but he wants to be the one who’s there for you. He wants to be the one who protects you and keeps you safe – better yet, the one who makes you feel safe, if he could ever accomplish such a thing.

Lando exceeds his own expectations when he arrives at the nightclub in under five minutes. Already spotting you standing with the big, bulky bouncer, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm in the cold, late night (or early morning) breeze. He carelessly parked his car on the side of the road, barely turning on the hazard lights before exiting the car. 

“Y/N! Are you okay?” He jogs towards the club entrance, concern showing on his face.

You lifted your head at the familiar voice yelling your name. Quickly thanking the bouncer who kept you company, you rushed over to the familiar boy. You had never been so happy to see Lando.

He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were within his reach. Cradling your head and brushing your hair with one hand, while the other pulled you closer by your waist. Although you initially wanted your brother to come, this was good too – you’d even go as far as to say you were enjoying it. Despite your differences, Lando’s presence (more specifically, his strong arms holding you tight) made you feel at ease and calmed you down. He relieved the tenseness of your body and you relaxed in his hold. Hiding your face in his neck and fisting the fabric of his shirt, you nestled yourself comfortably in Lando’s body and exhaled the breath you had been holding.

He buried his nose in your hair on the top of your head, breathing in your scent and smiling at the feeling of you snuggling into him. It felt right, so right, to be holding you like this. He whispers, “Are you okay?” You merely nod your head, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He questions further.

You stay silent, enjoying Lando’s strong hold on you. It makes you feel safe. Safe enough to share what happened in the club. “There was some random guy who thought he was entitled to my attention.” You mumble into his neck.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” He continues, already fearing the answer.

You let a silence fall before answering, “He did,”

Lando squeezes you tighter at the revelation. He’s not surprised a man ruined your fun night out.

You continue quickly, “But there were some girls who helped me, and I think they kicked him out. I’m not sure though, I left as soon as I could. Then I called Max, but he didn’t answer, and now…”

“I’m sorry,” Lando says, a pained expression on his face. “Men are shit.”

You let out a small laugh and Lando can barely avoid shivering at the feeling of your warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his neck. Nevertheless, he smiles in accomplishment when he hears the sound, glad he could cheer you up.

“You want to go home? To my place, I mean, Max is there…”

“Yes,” you say into Lando’s neck, sighing before distancing yourself from him.

He kisses the top of your head before letting you leave his hold, “Let’s go then,” he says, pulling you along to his car, still tucked into his side.

– – – – –

Part 2

[oceantornadoo]

ch6 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: dirty talk and fingering

masterlist | next

The following week, you learn John Price’s meaning of “friends.”

It means no repeats of the library incident, as you’ve dubbed it. It means no more handfed breakfast. It means no hourlong cuddle sessions.

It does mean waking up tangled together, even though you went to bed on opposite sides. It includes five, and no more, minutes of breathing in each other’s presence, pretending to be asleep while knowing the other person’s awake. It proceeds to mean you staying in bed while John gets up at an ungodly hour, watching him get ready through half-lidded eyes. He always wears some kind of workout set, shorts that show off his unfairly thick and hairy thighs and a tight shirt that you can see his defined pecs through. Even if he’s going to the gym, he tucks his Glock into the back of his shorts. He comes back an hour later (you’ve timed it to be sure) and while he’s careful not to wake you, your body simply doesn’t allow more sleep. 

If you’re lucky, he’ll take off his shirt before walking into the bathroom. He’ll shed it with ease, swiping it down his face as he calms his breathing. This routine of his is addicting, as if a higher power is forcing you to watch how sweat drips down his upper half. Then he’ll shower, sometimes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and don one of his many suits. Always with a black button-up, never white. Sometimes a tie, sometimes not on the days he seems more agitated than usual, like he can’t be bothered putting on his mask of professionalism. When he’s ready to leave, after he tucks his gun back in, he approaches you in bed. That’s when you play your game of false-sleep, eyelids stone-still as he finds your hand and kisses the top of it.

When he leaves, you don’t see him until he crawls in late at night.

This bed of yours, your new gilded cage, is in the master bedroom of John’s Eaton Square apartment. Apartment is in an inadequate word, a building for normal people who aren’t filthy rich. John’s apartment is a palace, complete with a sitting room and courtyard garden. After the library incident, where you were shuffled back your Ritz hotel room and passed out on the bed from sheer embarrassment, you woke up in the morning with Gaz of all people in the corner chair of your room.

“Finally, she wakes.” You blink rapidly, trying to process the scene before you. The bed is cold, no John to be found. Morning light streams through the windows, turning Gaz into something like an angel with a golden halo. He looks positively affronted at your lie-in, frowning as you stay silent. “Aren’t ya s’pposed t’ be a mouthy brat?” Instead of replying, you fumble around the bed until you can find the decorative pillow that was digging into your back all night. You grip it tight and aim true, clocking Gaz in the chest as he smirks. “There she is. Welcome back t’ the land of the livin’, Mrs. Price.” You groan at his words, smothering yourself in blankets. “I’ll be outside when y’r ready, don’t have all day.”

When you emerge from the room, he looks slightly mollified, probably due to the biscuit in his hand. “You didn’t get one for me?” He scoffs, then hits the button to call the elevator. “If you’d waken ‘fore noon, you would’ve gotten a whole feast.” You wonder if you would have seen your husband as well. His presence, or lack thereof, is the elephant in the room. Well, elevator.

“Where’s…” He raises an eyebrow with intrigue. “Wha’, don’t say y’r gettin’ attached!” You roll your eyes, scooting away from him so you’re on opposite sides of this metal torture machine. “E’s workin’. I’ll be takin’ ya t’ the Castle.” He sounds positively miffed at this being his day’s work. “A castle? I thought he lived in London.” Gaz smiles ruefully. “We call it the Castle, real behemoth it is. Don’t worry, it’s in Eaton Square.” You knew he was rich, but wow. Did he even need this marriage if he has all this money? It seems like his bank account is big enough to buy out the Riley family outright.

Once the elevator opens to the lobby, Gaz guides you to a sleek black car waiting at the curb. It’s a silent car ride, only punctuated by Gaz’s occasional short phone call. When you arrive at the Castle, you feel a sudden kinship with Cinderella, feeling like a peasant in rags compared to the riches before you.

It looks a bit like the American White House, with columns of marble on each level of the ‘apartment’. The outside is all white, a testament to how clean this part of the city is. When Gaz guides you out of the car and through the gated entrance, you note how the two guards at the entrance nod at him with respect on their eyes. Before stepping into the house, you turn and find men stationed throughout the small park across the street. They seem like casual city-goers to the untrained eye, but you know too well the stiffness of a mafia man.

The entrance feels like you’re back at the Ritz, with its marble flooring and manicured potted plants. Gaz takes on the role of real estate agent, guiding you through a floral dining room and modern kitchen, giving you time to glimpse one of the bedrooms before turning you to the gardens. As you walk, you note a chef in the kitchen and a few men at the dining room table. They nod in greeting but not much else, seeming to be absorbed in the laptops in front of them. They lower their eyes in deference to you, like they’ll turn to stone if they glimpse at you for more than a few seconds. Gaz seems at ease with all of this, pointing out decor and architecture like you’re not at the base of London’s prime criminal headquarters. 

Once you enter the gardens, a sense of peace settles between you two, an acknowledgement of the garden’s natural beauty. “As y’know, Price has a lot of time on his hands t’ garden.” You can’t help but giggle at the joke, smiling at the gardener who’s watering some of the white flowers. There’s outside furniture, couches and tables, and you can’t help but imagine reading here on a balmy summer night. 

Instead of walking through to the other side, Gaz walks you out the way you came in. “Price’s study’s on th’ other side, so we’ve turned tha’ an’ th’ two bedrooms to a security area an’ supply room. Nothin’ you’ll be interested in.” Actually, you’re extremely interested in what Price’s business is, but you bite your tongue as Gaz walks upstairs and into a beautiful sitting room. “Christ, this house is more for a Victorian lady than John.” There’s a sense of winning in your stomach as Gaz barks out a laugh at your joke, nodding along. The sitting room has walls miles high, decorated by rigid furniture and old paintings. It doesn’t look used, seeming to be designed to keep people from overstaying their welcome with its lack of warmth. You absentmindly wonder how lonely John was before this marriage.

Finally, Gaz takes you to the master bedroom. There’s a guard stationed outside of it, a younger-looking man who’s probably been given the job with the least amount of responsibility - guarding a room when it’s not in use. The decor of the bedroom is more modern than the rest of the house, clean lines and beige walls. Unsurprisingly, it’s very organized, a glimpse into the closet revealing Price’s suits hanging next to each other. What is surprising is recognizing your own clothes next to his, tops and bottoms hanging in color-coordinated order. The closet is wall-to-wall, with a room between the bedroom and bathroom, dedicated just for changing. 

“Right, well, tha’s the tour.” You’re back in the bedroom, standing awkwardly. He slips you a business card: Kyle Garrick - Security Professional. You snort. “Don’t knock networkin’, princess. Tha’s got my number if ya need it, but only use me as a last resort. Price’ll hav’ my head if you call me before him.” You tuck it into the pocket of your jeans, then scratch your arm out of nervous habit. “What am I supposed to do now?” He shrugs, clearly unequipped to handle this discussion of your future. 

“Reckon you get comfortable. Lot of shit’s goin’ down now, so don’t expect Cap t’ be home at 5.”

“Cap?”

“‘S what we call Price. Runs this ship tight as a captain.”“So without him, you’ll sink?” Gaz nods seriously. “Y’ve got no idea.” Clearly wanting to get back to his actual work, and uncomfortable in his boss’s bedroom, he makes a quick goodbye, leaving you alone. Something to get used to.

Your usual solution to combat the feeling is to call your brother. He picks up on the second ring, concern etched into the vowels of his speech. “Alright, love?” You nod, then remember he’s not here. “Yeah, just bored, I guess. I just got to Price’s apartment, it’s a mansion, Si,-” “‘m sorry, kid, I’m dead busy right now. Let’s plan a call on the weekend, yeah?” Oh. Stupid, you should have remembered he has a life outside of you. If it were a regular day you’d have one too, opening your bookstore for your late Monday hours. “Right, sorry. Let’s call later.” He grunts, clearly distracted. “Olrigh’, talk soon. Love ya, kid.” “Love you too, Simon.” He hangs up right after your goodbye, not even a second of breathing between you. You’re really on your own. Guess it’s time to explore.

The thrill of exploring lost its sheen five days in. Five days of John leaving in the morning, five days of hand kisses and nothing else. You explore a room a day, forcing yourself to flip through every dusty book or memorize every old painting. You tried talking to the staff, but it’s clear they’re only there when necessary, wrapped up in their own duties. The Friday after your wedding, only a week after the club incident, you finally get to talk to another human.

She happens upon you in the dining room, eating a late breakfast.

“Kate Laswell, solicitor.” A hand appears in front of your cereal bowl, stopping your spoon from reaching your mouth. Deciding to be courteous, you put it down instead of spilling milk on her hand. “Mrs. Price, ghost of the Castle.” She gives you a small smile like it’s a concession. You shake her hand firmly, noting callouses unusual of the prim and spoiled lawyers you’re used to. She doesn’t say anything, so you take a second to analyze her while she does the same.

Kate’s dressed in a sharp suit, pinstriped and tailored well. Blonde hair in a bun, with chic bangs on her forehead. What’s more intriguing is her accent. “You’re American?” She nods, sitting down at the table with you. There’s a stack of folders in her hands, laid carefully on the sleek table. “Dad’s British, old friend of Price’s father.” She lets you fill in the blanks, assuming she grew up in America with her mother. Every word of hers is thought out, leaning towards calculated but not quite. It’s silent for a moment as you continue eating your cereal, neither of you in much of a rush.

“Well, I’m quite flattered, but I’m assuming this isn’t a social call since the last time I saw you, you were negotiating this blooming marriage.” She nods, opening the first folder of her stack. It’s a…real estate report? She passes it your way and you note the pictures of various storefronts, mainly old retail stores. “Available Price businesses. Mainly purchased for tax reasons. This report details location, average foot traffic, measurements, etc. Questions?” The report is ten pages long, thick with ink and possibility.

“Is this for my…?” The thoroughness of the research impresses you. She takes out more stapled papers, detailing market value in the area and payment plans. “Bookstore? It took a bit to gather the paperwork, some of these places haven’t been looked at in a long time. I thought this might be more interesting than haunting the Castle.” Your hands nearly shake with excitement. You’ve been positively bored, nothing to do and no one to talk to. “Do you have somewhere to be after this?” You ask, almost timidly. She checks her watch, then shakes her head. “Not until lunch.” You grin. “Let’s talk.”

You talk for nearly two hours. Business plans, target market, the walking patterns of Londoners. She tells you more about the city than you could ever find online. She points out up-and-coming neighbors versus those slowing down. It’s refreshing to talk to a woman and not a man calling you nicknames and making your head spin. She’s smart and sharp, joking less than Gaz but greeting your own with rare smiles.

The two of you decide on a storefront on Carnaby Street, surrounded by boutiques and small businesses. It’s different from the vibe of your Manchester store, but a new challenge is all you need. You have enough money from the profits of your bookstore plus some your father left you, enough to buy the property in full from John. You have a feeling Laswell, as she’s asked you to call her, is underselling you, but you’re not going to blame her for saving you a few thousand. A few calls get made to respective bankers, and Laswell promises a contract and detailed payment plan by next week. 

“Laswell?” She tips her chin in acknowledgement as she packs up the folders. “Thank you for visiting. You’re welcome anytime, for lawyer stuff or not.” Laswell gives you a half-smile, then slips her business card onto the table. “Here’s my info, lawyer stuff or not.” She winks, then bids you goodbye using your first name. It’s a relief to be acknowledged. The whole interaction gets you out of your week-long funk, riling you up.

When’s she gone, you reach for your phone, calling one of your newest contacts. “Price.” You scoff at his greeting. “Jeez, not even a hello?” There’s a pause, like he took the phone away from his face then put it back. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t check the caller ID. You okay?” He hasn’t talked to you all week, so the petname’s a shot to the heart. “I think Laswell lowballed me, but I officially own one of your properties.” He chuckles, low and soft in your ear. Friends. Frenemies. Stay solid. “Tha’ righ’?” God, admitting this victory is like handing him your beating heart. “Yes.” It comes out stern and he stops laughing, mistaking your tone for anger. “Can’t promise dinner but I’ll be there ‘fore lights out, yeah?” The topic change throws you off. You nod, swallowing an embarrassing notion of asking about his dinner plans. “See you then. And, John?” He’s quiet, waiting on you. “I’m going into the city for dinner, taking a guard so don’t worry. Bye!” That leaves him sputtering, scales tipping towards balance again. “Wait, don’t-” Beep! He doesn’t get to finish the thought as you hang up.

You find a spare guard in the hallway, who tells you his name is Terrance. “Ma’am, I don’t think the Captain’ll be ok with this.” Another American. “Well, I’m leaving with or without you, Terrance. Let me know what you think he’ll be more okay with.” That gets him going, talking into his ear piece before moving to shadow you. You walk swiftly without direction, turning left down the street in search for a cab. Terrance clears his throat behind you. “Center of the city is the other way, ma’am. Let me call a driver, the cabs’ll cheat you.” You concede, the raging hunger in your stomach your main motivator. He probably wouldn’t have let you take a cab anyways, safety protocols and all that. You brush the small revolver in your purse for comfort and think of the small knife strapped to your upper calf. It’s not the best placement, but you’re overly cautious with your first venture into the city. You tap your foot impatiently as Terrance calls a driver. You didn’t eat lunch after meeting Laswell, too eager to explore.

After a short ride, Terrance sitting up front with the driver, you arrive to your destination: your new storefront. It’s a bit rundown but the street is busy even at this early dinner hour, a good sign for business. Huge glass windows frame either side, and you try to peak through to get a look inwards. It seems dusty but well kept, no signs of natural damage. A perfect clean slate.

Satisfied, you turn to look for a cafe, since the restaurants aren’t open just yet. Settling on a quaint one down the street, you order a sandwich and find a seat. It’s nice to spend time surrounded by others, lives flashing by yours in a flash as you sit by a window, picking at your food. You invite Terrance to sit with you twice but he refuses, content to stand near your seat at the window, eyes on both the inside and outside. You brought a notebook with you, so the hours fly by as you plan your bookstore. You force yourself to stay past dinner, only conceding to a ride back when Terrance looks dead on his feet and the cafe workers are clearly closing.

When you get home, John isn’t there.

Your veins go cold but you shake it off, reciting reasons why you shouldn’t care: just friends, childhood enemy, influenced the breakup of your family, forced you into a marriage, practical stranger. Then the other side of your brain responds: the honeymoon period, agreed to negotiations, doesn’t pressure you into sex, gifted you a library, holds you tight every morning, takes care of you when drunk. It’s a tie, like your cartoon devil and angel can’t even decide. Typical.

You decide on a long shower, shutting yourself away in the bathroom. Body scrubs, haircare routine, shaving, the works. The excitement of the day hits you and you smile to yourself, thoughts of your new bookstore drifting through your mind. Maybe you need some stress relief. Maybe you’ll give yourself what John won’t.

You drag a hand down your wet body, pinching your nipples. A scene from the library appears in your mind, the memory of being completely exposed under John’s view. How he brushed the lace of your underwear, testing the wetness of your folds. Your other hand starts to circle your clit, faster and faster as you imagine what would have happened had the clock not struck twelve. How he would have stuffed a finger, maybe two, into your hole, exploring the limits of your body. How he would’ve called you sweetheart in that rough voice. Your core tightens unreasonably fast, careening towards the edge of your orgasm when it just stops. You groan in frustration, then reach for the detachable showerhead. 

This time is rougher, torturing your poor cunt with harsh water pressure. You find yourself on the edge again, clenching with anticipation before it escapes you again. That’s enough of a sign that it’s not going to happen for you tonight. Defeated, you end your shower quickly, speeding through the rest of your night routine.

You exit the bathroom clothed in pajamas, sweating from exasperation and effort. Two failed orgasms is enough to break any woman’s heart. This thought is what keeps you from immediately realizing John’s sitting up in bed, reading glasses on, shirt off. It stops you in your tracks.

“Nice shower?” He asks, not looking up from the reports in his hands. You stutter, long enough for him to look up in confusion. “You good, sweetheart?” You shake your head, wiping your hands on your pajamas. “Sorry, lost my train of thought. Think the hot water fried some of my brain cells.” He chuckles, a sound that goes straight to your core. He looks so damn delicious, better than your shower fantasies. The glasses make him look like a frazzled professor instead of the head of a criminal organization. The fantasy is a bit broken by the Glock on his bedside table, but you shrug it off. You make your way to the bed, shutting off your bedside lamp as soon as you get in. His eyes bore a hole into the side of your head, like he can tell you tried getting off to the thought of him for half an hour and failed.

“Laswell tol’ me ‘bout your meetin’.” He says after a few minutes. You flip to face him, tugging the covers up to your chin. “I love her. She’s like who I want to be when I grow up.” Instead of reminding you that you are, indeed, grown up, he nods like he understands. You hate it. “She has tha’ effect. She’d make a mean school principal.” You laugh and he turns to hit you with the full force of his smile. “Like that lady from Matilda. But without the corporal punishment.” He nods. “Like a calm Trunchbull. Instead of yellin’, she’d jus’ stare.” You both laugh at the image, breaking the ice of his abandonment during the week. John turns out the light, disappointingly taking off his glasses and putting away his reports. You both get comfortable, facing opposite directions on your respective sides of the beds.

“‘M sorry for this week. Wasn’t real friend behavior.” Did he just apologize? You clear your throat, forcing yourself not to turn to face him. “It’s okay, I get it. I’ll be busy soon, too.” He’s quiet for a while. 

“I wish we had a longer honeymoon.” It physically hurts you to say. You quickly try to take it back. “You know, to spend in the library.” You mutter. “‘S ok, sweetheart. I would’ve liked more time too.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Right, well, goodnight, John.” What else can you say? I wish you’d stay longer in the mornings? I wish we had dinner together? I wish this was under different circumstances and our families weren’t entwined? “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Except sleep doesn’t take you. The memory of your shower is too recent, your core fluttering with the memory of your failed orgasms. You shift against the pillows, the scrape of the bedsheets torture against your skin. For a madness-induced second, you dip your hand down your pajamas, but you quickly pull it back when you remember John is a foot away. After fifteen minutes of squirming, he finally says something.

“You alrigh’?” You huff, still moving to get comfortable. “Sorry, I’m just hot.” He tugs the covers off you and towards him. “Can keep the covers off?” But now you’re shivering without their warmth. He moves closer to put them back, his face inches away as he tucks you in. “What’s wrong?” It’s low and sweet, like how he was on the phone. It makes you cave.

“I couldn’t get off.” He doesn’t react, like he was expecting you to say that. Which would be crazy. Right?

“Tha’ righ’?” You nod in the darkness, almost pouting in pain. “I tried in the shower and it didn’t work. Sorry, I can sleep in the sitting room if it makes you uncomfortable.” You feel him shaking his head, the whooshing of air surrounding the two of you. 

“You want help?” He can’t be serious. “You’re joking.” Instead of responding, his hand brushes your face, much closer than you originally thought. You inhale at the sudden rush of his scent, hips canting in the air in a biological response. He’s leaning over you, too out of reach.

“Christ, you’re gaggin’ fer it.” Your mouth drops, a perfect opportunity for him to brush the rounded O of your lips. He dips his middle finger into your mouth and, against your better judgement, you suck. “Look at tha’, so sweet fer me.” It’s encouragement to suck harder, rewarded with one of his groans. The moonlight catches the blue of his eyes, alight with hunger. You moan, and he evilly tugs his finger out of your mouth and into his own. Its a brutal show of spit swapping, leaving you panting. “John, please.” He gets the memo, sliding the finger under your pajama shorts. And then he just explores. Manipulates your folds this way and that, missing your clit by miles. 

“This a gyno exam that I didn’t-,” but he cuts you off with a rough kiss, his thumb pressing on your clit as he finally pushes a finger into your messy hole. It’s as possessive as your kiss at the wedding. He sucks on your top lip, then pulls away before you enjoy it too much. “So fuckin’ wet. This all fer me?” You nod desperately, hips moving to join the rhythm of his fingers. He finds your G-spot with ease, stroking you with a ‘come here’ motion as you rock against him. “Missed you, baby. Y’r cunny miss me?” And all you can do is plead, chests brushing against each other as he kisses his way down your neck, sloppy and unrestrained. “Yes, yes, missed you.” He grunts his approval.

His other hand moves to stablize his weight, forearm digging into the bed as his fingers curl around the crown of your head. Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging him back to your lips when he gets too far. A second finger, his ring one, meets his middle. You haven’t sex in a while, the only explanation for how full you feel. 

“Gonna hav’ t’ work ya open ‘fore you take my cock.” He whispers like it’s a note for him to remember, not meant for your ears. “Someone’s, oh fuck,” he circles your clit harder, tightening the coil in your belly. “Someone’s confident.” Is what you finally bite out, panting hard. He chuckles, nosing at your neck before kissing you again on the lips. “You opposed t’ future orgasms, baby?” You shake your head, babbling nonsense as he fucks you deeper on his fingers. Your cunt is begging for release, squeezing so hard you can’t breathe.

“Gonna come.” He nods, licking the sweat behind your ear before nipping at your jaw. “Let it out, sweetheart,” and you do, spasming on his fingers. He works you through it, slowing his motions with practiced ease. You breathe a sigh of relief, the tension in your body having disappeared. John captures your lips, allowing you to tug him closer so he’s inbetween your legs. You rub your sweat-soaked body against his, whimpering at the sensitivity of your skin. He shushes you, petting you with hairy paws as your breathing calms. “What a good girl fer me.” He whispers, almost condescendingly. You mewl at his tone, cat-like in his arms.

“I hate you.” You lie. All he does is kiss your forehead, then your nose. “Sure ya do, sweetheart. Feel better?” It turns you to butter. All you can do is nod, bashful at his tone. “Maybe.” He kisses your cheek, then rolls to the side, tugging you into him. “Sleep.” He commands.

It’s the best sleep you’ve gotten all week.

-

This is John’s mansion: https://search.savills.com/property-detail/gbsshsslh240021

Disclaimer that i have no clue how to write the differences between Gaz and Price’s accents so your patience and possible suggestions are much appreciated. 

🚨

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[moonstruckme]

hi mae!!! i absolutely love your writing and am evidently irrevocably in love with wolfstar. i just got my wisdom teeth taken out, and i know you already wrote something for poly!marauders with that, but could i request something for poly!wolfstar taking care of reader a few days after? so less loopy and more pain with lots of fluff and cuddles! feel free to ignore, love you darling!

Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you feel better soon <3

cw: allusion to chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 627 words

“Hello,” Sirius says when the front door shushes open. He starts to fold over the page of his magazine. He hardly catches a bit of motion from the corner of his eye before you’re flopping down on top of him, forcing a soft oof from his sternum. “Oh, hello. Everything okay?”

You make a tortured groaning sound, forehead pushing into his neck.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” Remus passes a loving hand over Sirius’ head in greeting, en route to the kitchen. “I’ll get your ice.”

“Aw,” Sirius tuts, letting his magazine lay tented over your back. He palms the back of your head gently. “Hard first day back at work?”

“It feels like it hurts worse,” you mumble into the space below his throat. The tip of your nose is cool where it presses to his skin. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Sirius kisses the top of your head. “It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Pain is tiring,” Remus agrees. He passes Sirius an ice pack to settle against your cheek, holding onto another while he leans on the back of the couch. “It’ll get better over the next few days. Tomorrow should be easier.”

“I can’t think about tomorrow.” Your voice is softer, lips barely moving as Sirius holds the ice to your jaw. You shift your face from his neck, turning your eyes up to his. “Keep me here forever?”

Sirius feels his mouth spread in a grin. “You know I will, gorgeous. And I’ll do you one better, lift your head and I’ll put two ice packs on your cheeks.”

You pick your head up as directed. Remus passes Sirius the other ice pack, and he sandwiches your face between the two with a smile. Your poor cheeks are swollen and bruised, but Sirius thinks you look lovely despite it, even pouting the way you are. You look between your boyfriends as though waiting for them to do something about it.

Remus breaks first. “Oh, my love.” He gives a pitying laugh, folding over the back of the couch to hug your shoulders. “I’m sorry. The pain won’t last much longer, though. Just give yourself some time to heal.”

“Count yourself lucky you had wisdom to take,” Sirius says. “I didn’t have anything they wanted at all.”

“I’m so tired of this,” you sigh, leaning into Remus. “Sorry, I know it’s only been a couple of days, just. It’s just constant, you know?”

Remus hums. He knows better than most, better than Sirius for sure. Sirius feels overcome by a fond protectiveness for you both.

He touches a pinkie to Remus’ forearm where it’s wrapped around your clavicle. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, rubbing. “It’s cruel and unjust to have either of you ever work again. I won’t entertain it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be our sole breadwinner now?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Quite right. I’ll need the two of you to carry your weight in homemaking, of course, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“And you reckon your income can cover our portions of the rent and groceries and all that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, darling. It’s well in hand.”

“Let me lie about for the rest of the week,” you sigh. “Then I’ll go back to work and you can stay here, Rem.”

Remus turns his smile into the top of your head, nose denting into your hair. “Yeah? You sure?”

“M’sure.” You shut your eyes. Sirius grins at Remus, thinking that he has about thirty seconds to change positions before you fall asleep and he has to hold you this way all night. “Just need a few days.”

But Remus will indulge you in anything; he stays perfectly still. “Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your head. “Whatever you need.”

[robinsgrl]

FEARLESS

chapter one. eggs and fist fights

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 5.2k

warnings ⇢ curse words, mean girl talk, sexual innuendos and gestures, reader being called fatphobic names, fist fight, reading gets roughed up (not as bad as the other girl 🙌)

authors note ⇢ i haven’t written fanfiction in a very long time sadly, but i actually quite like this! sorry if there’s any mistakes, this is all written in between my days, mostly at work while im on break lol. Hope u enjoy!!

social media part at the very end!

Growing up, you were vehemently told you aren’t like other girls. You didn’t paint your nails. You didn’t like makeup. You didn’t like dressing up. You weren’t the size to be like other girls.

But you wanted to be like other girls. You wanted to giggle over a guy that had a crush on you. You wanted to shop at the same trendy places other girls went to. You wanted to follow trends. You wanted to paint your nails. You wanted to put makeup on. But you couldn’t. Your size draws enough attention to you, you can't put makeup on or dress in crop tops like other girls. And that sets you behind a lot.

Like now, your friend is happily giggling about prom. Prom. The night every girl in Kildare Academy has been dreaming of. Where they’ll rent limos, go out to eat at expensive restaurants, go to landmarks and take gorgeous pictures to post on twitter and reminisce about later on in life. But you can’t think of it positively. All those dress fittings. Hair put in updos that will only showcase your round face, dates that you can’t get.

“Jonah’s definitely going to ask me.” The mention of Jonah piques your interest. The stunning looks of your closest friend always catches your breath. Her stunning blue eyes, her perfectly smooth skin that’s always got a natural tan to it, blonde locs that look effortless no matter what she’s been up to.

The day Scarlett decided to be your friend was a day worth remembering. No one wanted to be friends with the weird pogue girl who was suddenly shoved into the Kook world. You had been eating lunch all by yourself for weeks, at the very end of the cafeteria until she came along and told you your jeans were ugly. You thought she was bullying you. But she kept talking. And talking. And you two just stuck.

“Jonah’s asking you to prom?” You speak after a few quiet moments. Jonah Carpenter. The hottest guy in school. The quarterback. The typical high school stereotype. Only, he’s not dating the head cheerleader. Scarlett’s been pining after Jonah since the eighth grade but the guy was always in his own world to pay attention to any girls.

And maybe that’s what drew you in. He wasn’t like the other guys in the academy. He cared about his grades. He gave his all to the sport he was passionate about. He wasn’t about lame hookups and harsh words like the other guys on the football team. He smiled at you while others sneered. He didn’t see you at all. Which is a lot better than the way other guys see you. You prefer it this way, even if late at night you picture romantic scenarios that you would die to share with him.

Scarlett nods, fixing her lip gloss using the mirror in her locker. Her makeup is flawless as usual, which sends another pang of envy to you. “I’ve been in his DM’s for weeks. I think I’m breaking down his walls.”

Your eyebrows rise at this. “He actually responded to you?” The look she sends you makes you tense. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Scar. He’s just… him, you know? The last girlfriend he had was in the seventh grade.”

Scarlett shakes her head, waving you off, your words going in one ear and out the other. “I just have to wear him down. Men don’t know what they want until a woman tells them.”

Your nose scrunches at her words, reminding you of your mother. But you can’t say it didn’t work. She was a poor teen mom from the cut one day and married to the second richest man on the island the next. And there’s no better hustler than your mother.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs as she shuts her locker and pulls the strap of her bag up some more on her shoulder. “Look, you said it, he’s him. He’s a little dimwitted and oblivious.” You want to fight her words. He’s not. He’s smart. And kind. But it’d seem silly to do so. You’ve never had a single conversation with him and she’d point it out to you. “He just needs to realize I’m the girl for him.”

“Right.” You try to hide the judgement in your voice as the two walk side by side. The bell signaling the end of the day had rang a while ago but Scarlett had to stay behind for a cheer team meeting and she was your ride. Scarlett’s talking about god knows what as you make it out of the prestigious school, the sun belting down on the two of you.

The plaid uniform skirt you’re forced to wear blows in the wind but you pay no mind to it. You wear your uniform the way that an upright teacher would present to the school as a good example. Frumpy. Scarlet accessorizes her uniform. She rolls her skirt up at the top, showcasing her long and pretty legs. Cute buttons on her shirt that fits her perfectly.

“Sarah!” Scarlett’s loud and chirpy voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Sarah Cameron. Kook Princess. The perfect example of another effortlessly beautiful girl in Kildare. Sarah’s stunning hair blows with the wind as she waves to the two of you. You don’t respond, not when it’s meant for Scarlett.

The two of you walked over to the girl who was standing with her own friends. Her smile is bright and endearing, yours is awkward as you stand with her and your best friend. “Did you see the prom announcement?!” Scarlett squeals happily. “God, I’m so excited! Are you bringing Topper?”

Sarah shrugs and that catches your attention. They’ve been the talk of the academy for weeks. The top couple. The IT couple. They had been flirting for a while and made it official just a month ago. Scarlett had complained about it. Said the title should be for her as the head cheerleader. “Ugh, what? Are you guys fighting? But you’re so cute!” Her voice makes that high pitched tone that tells you she’s lying. She vies for the attention and title that Sarah holds.

“What about you?” You stare at her blankly until Scarlett nudges your side. This snaps you out of it, eyes widening for a split second.

“Uhm… sorry, were you talking to me?” You ask a little loudly, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Sarah lets out an amused laugh, nodding. “Duh, are you going to prom?”

You’re about to answer but Scarlett beats you to it. “No, she’s not. It’s not her thing, like, at all. I think she’s allergic to makeup.”

Your eyebrows furrow at her rude words, the energy turning awkward as Sarah looks between the two of you with a curious look. “Well… your thing can change, right? I hope to see—“

A loud honk of a car horn makes you jump in your spot, eyes turning to the source. “Sarah, get your ass in the car!” A strong voice calls out to the girl you were speaking to. A familiar grey truck was pulled in the parking lot, engine still running but the windows down to get a good view of the man.

Rafe Cameron.

Your mother tells you to get together with a rich Kook every single day. Begs you of it, actually. But Rafe is out of bounds. He’s trouble. Danger. Too much baggage, she whispers to you at Kook events. His reputation follows him like a shadow. Coke head. Drinker. Parties too much. Always at odds with his family.

You spoke to him once. You didn’t share many classes with him because he was two years ahead of you but your mandatory Spanish class was a mixture of all the grades. He asked for a pencil. He didn’t ask, actually, reached for the pencil on your desk and said he would be using it. You’ve silently held that against him for two years.

“Wait, Rafe!” Sarah yells back to him and it stuns you how little she cares about the eyes on her.

“Stop chit chatting and get the fuck in!” He yells back. You feel incredibly awkward. Maybe it’s the fact that you never had any siblings but this feels too… private to be doing out in public.

Scarlett and you share a look, one that speaks many words between the two of you. “Why are you being a dick?!” Sarah’s words make you speak up.

“Uhm… we should go.” You take a hold of Scarlett’s arm but she shakes her head as she scrolls through her phone.

“Fuck, one of the girls needs my help on our routine.” These words make you frown.

“But you’re my ride.” You sigh.

“You can ride with me.” Sarah’s words send a shiver of fear down your spine. The idea of getting in a car with Rafe Cameron terrified you.

“N-no, that’s fine. Really, I’ll—“ Scarlett interrupts you. Again.

“Don’t be silly, ___, you live too far to walk. Just accept.”

Sarah nods with a kind smile as she loops her arm with yours as if you two were friends. But you can’t be mean. Sarah starts dragging you away and you look back at Scarlett with a look of fear. You mouth a few words to her, begging her to save you. She just laughs you off, making a lewd motion with her two hands and mouth. You regret every telling her about your one sided beef with Rafe, now she’s running with it.

“Sarah, really, I’m fine.” You try to beg her. “I can, I can call my step-dad, really.”

“No, no, no need to bother him when my brother can take you home.”

Your heart stops when you stop at his car door. “You’re taking my friend home.”

You hear him scoff. “I’m not a fucking Uber.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, she lives far away.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Sarah. Get in.”

“Not unless she can.”

“Oh my god—“

“You’re gonna let a girl walk all the way home by herself and possibly be murdered—“

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up and get in the car! Both of you!”

You’re tense as you get in his truck. Your hands shake as you put your seatbelt on, unsure of what to say or what to do. This is the most awkward and anxiety inducing situation you’ve ever been put in. “Where do you live?” He questions roughly making you look up at him with a look of fear. He’s looking straight ahead at the road as he starts driving off.

“H-Hill-Hillary Hills.” The second biggest house in the OBX. Of course, the Cameron’s own the biggest. They own the biggest everything. Like yourself, your step-father seems to be in one sided competition with a Cameron.

This makes him look up into his rear view mirror and for the first time in the last two years, you two make eye contact. His eyes are strong, holding what seems to be very little emotion. You feel put on the spot, like there’s a limelight on you. You tear your eyes away and let them flitter around his truck.

“Your mom’s that MILF that’s always hitting on everyone?” A frown immediately falls onto your lips at his words, feeling the anxiety waft through you in waves.

“Rafe, are you fucking serious?” Sarah snaps at her older brother as you bite your bottom lip over how damn shitty that feels.

You can hear Rafe scoff but you can’t look at him. You want to be let out of this damn truck. You can’t breathe.

“Shit, I didn’t know you’d be sensitive about it. My bad.” His words feel like glass in your skin. You need to leave.

Sarah wants to cut the tension, clearly, so she speaks up. “Scarlett’s kind of a bitch.”

You shrug gently, hands holding onto the seat belt tight. “She can be… but she means well.”

You can feel his eyes on you as he speaks. “Who’s Scarlett?”

“Mind your business.” Sarah snaps at him before smiling over at you. “If I tell you something, would you hate me?”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to hear it. It can’t be any good. But your curiosity wins. You nod, urging her to go on. “She was talking shit about you last week.”

Your blood runs cold. Your face falls and you’re sure you look unbelievably pale. Your best friend. The girl you thought was by your side, always, isn’t? “What did she say?” You ask with a small clear of your throat.

Sarah bites her bottom lip nervously as her eyes flicker around your face. “Do you really want to know what she said?”

You nod, trying your hardest not to look over at Rafe who’s eyes keep flickering over to you through the rear view mirror. “She said you were a scared loser who was just dragging her down. Said something about how you… you let your insecurities slow you down.”

“Jesus, Sarah.” You’re surprised to hear Rafe speak up about this.

She scoffs and smacks his arm. “It’s not like I said it about her. I actually defended you.” She looks over at you with a sad smile.

“Is… is that all she said?” Maybe you were naive to think that she really was your friend. But five years of constant hangouts, sleepovers, and long talks, you thought she’d feel something for you.

“I don’t feel comfortable repeating the other things she said.” Sarah admits and your stomach churns. You need to throw up.

“Now that shits gonna eat her up alive. Just tell her, instigator.” You can’t even pay attention to Rafe as he speaks.

“She said you were a big bitch who could crush anyone you come near. I mean… I think she meant the last part metaphorically. Oh my god, I’m horrible. I swear I don’t… I don’t think of you as—“

But you laugh. You laugh out loud. You can’t help it. The fucking irony. She spent countless nights crying to you about how she feels like a failure. How she can’t do anything in life correctly. And she thinks you crush people? She’s a fucking vulture and you can’t stop laughing.

Rafe and Sarah share a look before turning back to you. “You’re insane.” Rafe is the one to say such a thing to you but you can’t stop.

“Holy shit,” you cackle, wiping the tears of laughter that had fallen. You can’t even find it in yourself to be sad. You’re mad. You're enraged. You went around defending her, loving her and supporting her and she goes around and talks shit about you? You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anger like this. “That’s fucking hilarious.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” You can tell the girl is being honest and you just nod and shrug. This visibly confused Sarah. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.” Is your plain and simple answer. What are you supposed to do? Fight her? Trash talk her on social media? There’s nothing you can do.

Rafe’s loud scoff reverberates throughout the truck. “Your best friend was talking shit about you and you’re not going to do a single goddamn thing?”

Your attention turns to him, eyes meeting through his rearview mirror before he focuses on the road. “What am I supposed to do?”

Rafe sighs like this is a problem for him. As if he’s in your position. This bothers you. To have him be so bothered for you and annoyed at you is irksome. And if you were a bigger person, you’d speak up. But you’re not, so you stay silent.

“Scarlett Hillcrest, right?”

Sarah confirms his question by nodding. And he makes a u-turn. This raises some alarms within you. “What are you doing?” You speak in an almost panic.

“We just passed her house.”

“How do you know where Scarlett lives?” Sarah questions her brother in the front seat.

He shrugs and speaks nonchalantly. “I hooked up with her sister.”

Sarah makes a dramatic gagging sound and pretends to throw up all over his truck. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the drama she exudes. You never thought Sarah would be so… funny.

Rafe pulls up the house that you spent countless days inside of. The place where you ate dinner with her parents and siblings. Where you shared your deepest and darkest secrets to each other. And you start to feel that sadness creeping in. But it’s shoved away when Rafe tosses something at you and luckily, you catch it in time.

“Is this an egg?” The question tumbles out with a ludicrous tone.

“Why do you have eggs in your car?” Sarah laughs as she grabs a few as well.

Rafe shrugs lamely, “Rose made me pick some up on the way to pick you up.” The cars fully stopped moving and Rafe’s looking at you. He’s not glaring. Or trying to get a read of you. He’s just looking at you. And this oddly makes you feel confident. At this moment, he’s on your side. The scariest guy in all of Kildare is going to help you egg your ex-best friend's house. “Ready?”

And for the first time in your pathetic and less than thrilling life, you speak with confidence. “I’m ready.”

Your hand meets his as he helps you out of the truck, feet touching the ground, ugly plaid skirt fluttering around you. Sarah is snickering behind you, happily tagging along. The three of you don’t walk too far from his truck, for a quicker run back into it. “You should do the honors.” Sarah smiles at you. A genuine smile. Unlike the smiles that Scarlett gave you, full of pity and contempt.

You stare at the colonial home. The perfect lawn. The sunflowers and tulips that the two of you had planted to placate her mother about getting some sun. You two had giggled the afternoon away, even throwing some soil at each other and having to hose off outside. It was all fake. And a rage overcomes you. You grab two eggs and you throw them at her house. They land in two gross splats high up on her walls.

You laugh. A real and infectious laugh as Sarah tags along and starts throwing more and more eggs along with you. It’s surprising to you that even Rafe is egging this house alongside you and his sister. There’s a small turn to his lips but you can’t decipher whether it’s a real smile or not.

You don’t realize how close to the house you’ve gotten until the front door is swung open and out comes Scarlett’s mother. “Hey, you imbeciles!” She screeched.

“Fuck! Run! Run! Run!” Sarah laughs as you all turn and start running back to Rafe’s truck. Sarah easily jumps into the backseat of his truck and you’re almost there with her. At the last second, your shoe slips off and you land on the floor. You can’t even feel embarrassed as you turn to see that her mother is gaining on you guys.

The last thing you expected was a pair of strong arms around you, lifting you up. Actually lifting you up off the floor. It’s not just a tug. Rafe Cameron has picked you up off the floor, your feet not touching the floor. You have no time to think about this any longer when he helps you in the car. He slams the door and you see him disappear for a second before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off. You turn in your seat and manage to see Mrs. Hillcrest run off into the street and shout at the leaving truck.

“That was…” Sarah breaks the silence. “So much fucking fun!” She starts loudly laughing.

Your heart is beating hard and fast. And for the first time in a long time, you’re not anxious. You don’t feel bad. You feel good. So damn good. Laughter begins to bubble out of you and the two of you fall into each other in a complete fit. You two can barely talk in between the laughter but you still share funny anecdotes, your sides aching.

A familiar shoe falls into your lap and you look up and over at Rafe who you had genuinely forgotten was there. “Feel better?” Your eyes meet his again and you don’t feel nervous like before. You don’t want to run away. Being in his truck feels freeing, no longer suffocating.

“Way better.” Your smile is bright as you answer him.

—

You had blocked Scarlett on every platform you had her on, severing all ties. You had cried while doing it when the adrenaline of egging her house left your body. To have someone you cared for deeply not care for you at all was a pain you never wanted to experience again.

Getting to school that morning filled you with dread but it had to be done. The idea of being alone, of no longer having her by your side was scary but you didn’t have that little self-respect. She hated you while all you did was love her. It was embarrassing.

“Uhm, what the fuck?” Scarlett had been leaning on your locker, standing up straight as she saw you. Her face is twisted up in confusion and anger. “You fucking blocked me on everything?”

You sigh as you stand across from her, a hand holding onto the strap of your backpack unbelievably tight. It feels like your only lifeline right now. “That’s what one does when you find out your friend is a lying bitch.” The words just slip out of you. You can’t control them. You can’t hold back. Not anymore.

Scarlett’s eyes widen and she gapes her mouth, like a fish out of water. Usually, you’d rush to her. Take care of her when she’s like this. But you can’t, not without looking even more pathetic. “What does that even mean? What the fuck did I do?”

“It means that I won’t drag you down anymore.” You throw her words back at her. “This big and insecure bitch won’t bother you anymore. Sound familiar?”

It visibly takes Scarlett a few seconds to catch up to what you’re saying. And you see her face fall. And for a second, you feel bad. And then she speaks. “What? Come on, I said that out of anger. You pissed me off that morning and I was just venting.”

“That’s how you vent about your best friend?” You scoff, the pity you felt for a moment being crushed and dusted away. “By calling her fat? Spewing hate about her?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the same.”

“I haven’t!” You snap, the anger now radiating off of you. People are watching now. Trying to get a good listen. “I’ve never talked badly about you because you were my best friend! Did you get on my nerves? Obviously, that’s bound to happen when you spend every day together but I’ve never disrespected you or called you names to others!”

“Okay, I get it.” Scarlett’s eyes nervously look around the two of you, clearly not wanting anyone to get into it with people around. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

You’re looking at the girl you held so close to your heart and you don’t recognize her any longer. All those days together catch up to you. Her snide remarks about your choice of meal at restaurants. The digs about how she can share clothes with her other friends. Her skinny friends. You had romanticized your friendship because you were scared of not having any. “That’s what you’re sorry for? You’re sorry that I found out you were talking shit about me?”

“Well…” she sighs loudly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “What do you want me to say? I was angry. It just came out!” Now it’s clear that they’re arguing and everyone has stopped to watch.

And you feel that wave of anger coming back. All the love. All the memories. They’re squashed. Looking around at the group, you let out a scoff. You point to a girl in your math class. “She calls you Tammy DumpTruck.” You point to a guy. “She calls you pepperoni.” She points to another girl. “She made out with your boyfriend and then lied to you when you cried to her.” Your eyes meet Jonah, his green eyes watching you the entire time. “And she doesn’t really like you. She's just using you because she thinks being with the quarterback will up her social status. She called you dimwitted and oblivious yesterday!”

Scarlett scoffs loudly, laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I call you a mean name and you start fucking exposing me?” She shoves your shoulder, your back back falling to the ground in a loud thud. There are murmurs around the two of you, no doubt already gossiping about the mean crap you exposed. “You think you’re so fucking innocent? You sat and listened to it all! Not once did you stand up for them while I said all this shit!”

Angrily, you shove her shoulders right back, her bag falling to the floor now. “Because you would bully me too! What the fuck was I supposed to do? You kept me on a leash like a fucking puppy!”

She shoves you again. “Oh, shut up, whiney bitch! You loved being my puppy! It’s the only way anyone ever knew you existed! You’d be nothing without me! You *are* nothing without me! Leaving my side is going to be the worst thing you’ve ever done! You’re gonna be a fucking weirdo loser with no friends!”

You shove her again and she’s pushed up against the lockers. She’s enraged but so are you. And there’s loud cheering around you two. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Kids chant.

“And you’re going to be a trophy wife who will never achieve anything in life!” You yell right back at her. Low blow. She would tell you that was her biggest fear. But she knew yours too and she used it to talk behind your back. In your angered and muddled head, this was an eye for an eye. “You better enjoy the rest of your high school career because that’s the only time you’ll ever matter!”

“You stupid skank!” And hands are flying. She pushes you, smacking you. You shove her off of you and manage to get her to fall onto the floor, only she drags you with her. Now, the two of you are punching each other. Pulling hair. Scratching. You feel a pair of arms wrap around you while someone else tugs Scarlett off of you.

Scarlett’s screeching like a wild animal, wanting to be let go to keep fighting you. She's got a few scratches on her face, lip and nose bleeding. And you’re not any better, the same scratches, hair wild and your single nostril bleeding.

“Fake bitch!” You call out as you’re dragged away from her.

—

The sound of the phones ringing in the office is what’s keeping you at bay. The principal had called your mother but she didn’t pick up. Now, your step-father is on his way over to pick you up and sign a form to solidify your two week suspension. You’re not scared of your step-father. He’s more scared of you than anything but you are scared of your mother finding out. And you’re not ready whatsoever.

A soft voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “You look like you need this.” You look up and meet the pair of green eyes you’ve fantasized over.

Jonah is smiling softly at you. His plump lips turned up. Eyes crinkled gently. A wave of nervousness washes over you and you can’t speak as he holds out an ice pack for you. Shakily, you take it and place it on your forehead, the tender part that’s already bruising.

“Did she really say all that?” He breaks the silence as he stays standing across from where you sit on the office chair.

Gently, you nod. “Y-yeah.” Your voice cracks but you’re too tired and aching to care about it.

“Woah… I knew she wasn’t nice but I didn’t think she was a… bully.” He lets out a shaky laugh. You can’t look away from him while he speaks, not until he looks at you and you divert your eyes.

“Yeah… uhm… I didn’t even realize how shitty she was until… until yesterday.” You comment, leg bouncing up and down.

He takes this as his sign to take a seat next to you. You slowly scoot away from him, feeling shy and exposed with him. Even more so knowing that he saw it all. And how you spoke to him.

“I just… it’s funny that she thinks I’m the oblivious one, you know? She kept flirting with me through DM’s and I kept rejecting her and she wouldn’t take a hint. It was just kind of ironic.”

You snort out a laugh. “Yeah. Tell me about it. She got mad that I used her insecurity against her but I was supposed to be fine with her using mine.”

He exhales another small laugh. “Yeah. You guys… are ruthless.”

A small grin falls onto your lips, bringing the ice pack to your bruised lip to hide it from him. It’s silent again. It’s awkward. He clears her throat and speaks again, “I thought it was cool.”

You glance over at him with raised brows, breath quickening when his green eyes meet yours. “What you did. I thought it was cool.” The way his eyes flicker across her face, taking her in, makes her leg bounce more.

“Your mother is going to kill you.” The sound of your step-fathers voice cuts through your shared moment with Jonah.

Quickly, you hop up out of your chair and rush up to him. “Oh my god, Anthony. There has to be a way we can hide this. Please. Please. She’s going to murder me. This beating is going to be nothing compared to what she’ll do to me.”

The older man sighs loudly, rubbing the empty spot between his eyebrows. “Honey, your face is… messed up. God, how good did that little snob get you?” His hand falls to your chin, moving your head around to take a good look at the damage.

You scoff at his words and jokingly bring your fists up as if prepared to fight him. “You should see her face. More busted than mine.”

He rolls his eyes but there’s a playful smile on his face. “Okay, Ninja, let’s go.”

social media part!

[helianthus-tarot]

SELF: Your natural talent

Natural talent: Something that comes naturally to you, that you don't need to work on, except in situations where the talent is blocked by personal issues like insecurities.

I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes your potential (other qualities that can flourish if you tap into them) and possible career for you ❤️ There are other 80+ fun and juicy readings on Patreon so definitely check it out!

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Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

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PILE 1 

Natural talent: 10 of Swords, 9 of Wands, Queen of Cups, The Magician. 

Your natural talent is probably connected to the theme of your life. I think it’s your ability to transform your experiences, especially difficult experiences, into something more or something better. Most people learn from their mistakes, but some people may take several tries to learn the same lesson (as in, they keep experiencing the same thing over and over before the lesson actually gets through to them). But you learn quickly from your mistakes, because you probably have a tendency to think and analyse your mistakes (or things that happen in your life) to death. Which can be good and bad. You have an active mind; your mind can understand something in multiple different ways, in multiple different perspectives. If you don’t have a healthy control over this, it can lead to problems, especially health and emotional problems. 

You have a strong empathy, an ability to put yourself in other people’s shoes and to understand other people’s experiences. Partly because of your own personal experiences; these give you the perspective and ability to understand what people are struggling with and why. But another reason is that you just have that ability to understand people and their situations without having to experience those things yourself. I'm not just talking about caring for people, I’m talking about really understanding the layers in people’s problems; how different things lead to this terrible situation and why people with this kind of problem behave in a certain way.

Some of you may be into psychology; cognitive psychology, social psychology, positive psychology, or clinical psychology. I hate saying this because it sounds kinda shitty, but your pain and experiences are a part of your natural talent, or they’ve had a part in the development of your natural talent whether or not you realise it; it's like a curse and a gift at the same time, or a gift that blooms through a curse. Don't take this as me calling your difficult past experiences a curse tho. I mean, you can decide it yourself; I’m just trying to explain the message lol. 

The Magician can be about mixing different things together; so a lot of you are creative thinkers. You don’t have to be an artist, creative thinking does not only belong to artists. Creative thinking is closely related to resourcefulness and innovative thinking. You are naturally resourceful. While other people choose either A or B, you are out here having the ability to see how to combine A and B to get C.

You know how to use certain information, experience or knowledge to create something in your life, and I don’t think you need much advice or guidance to be able to do this. Some people really need to be led, like, they can’t really figure it out themselves or know where to begin. I’m not looking down on them, people have different strengths, I’m just describing the difference. You, however, know how to start, how to create things for yourself, where to go, what to do, what to have. There’s an independent energy to this, like someone who takes charge of their fate. You also have a natural talent in manifesting; some of you could find this ability a bit blocked, but you can manifest very easily if you put your mind to it and stay determined. 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What is your potential? What qualities can flourish if you put effort into them? 😳 And what career paths should you consider? 🤔📝 There are also other 80+ fun and juicy readings on Patreon, do check it out!

PILE 2 

Natural talent: Knight of Pentacles Rx (The High Priestess), 4 of Cups (The Chariot), King of Wands, Knight of Swords. 

You have the ability and strength to be yourself, to do what you want, to think what you think. Some people wait to be told what to do and who to be, but you aren’t really like that. I’m not looking down on those people, people have different strengths, I’m just highlighting the difference. You have a strong independent, bold energy, and this comes naturally to you, like someone who can’t help but be who they are and say what they believe in. You naturally know what you want, what your beliefs are, what you want next, and so on. You feel the pull or have the desire to leave a legacy in this world, to express your vision, to see your vision unfold and to make impacts on your surroundings. Like the previous pile, you may be good at manifesting, you can manifest what you want, especially by envisioning / visualising it.  

You are inspirational; your words and actions are, the way you go after your goals. For some of you, maybe you don’t actively try to be this way, but it still happens, when people look at you, they feel challenged, inspired, and motivated. Some of them may feel threatened or offended though, but if you aren’t unkind towards them then... that’s their issue to solve, really, it’s not your problem. You have a natural talent for leadership. A lot of you may often find yourself being chosen as a leader, or you prefer leadership role, or at least you prefer to be able to do your own thing and make your vision happen (good leaders are usually independent people who have the boldness to believe in their own ideas and don’t mind to assert those).

You are a visionary, some people have to actively learn visionary thinking, but it comes naturally to you. You can see the big picture easily, you can imagine how things may happen, or what something may lead to, you can see the potential in things around you, the opportunities, the possibilities. You have a critical mind too, so you probably have a lot of opinions about a lot of things, because you can see their potentials. 

You are passionate and intuitive. Passion and intuition can be the drives or the sources of energy that’s needed to take actions. Some people have to search for this externally, they need other people to motivate them. You don’t, you have a lot of that in you. You are the type of person who can motivate yourself and stay determined through beliefs alone. So your passion and intuition help you stand strong in your conviction, which takes guts and confidence to do.

Those also make you ambitious and daring. You don’t really doubt yourself, and even when you do, emotional hangups, pessimism don’t really have much power to stop you from pursuing what you want once you have decided that you want what you want. You have a stubborn streak that can help you push through obstacles. However, you do rely more on your instinct than careful, methodical actions. Some of you can be prone to impatience and make quick judgments, so just be careful with that. I mean, you have a strong intuition, so you are probably right in many cases but at the end of the day you are still human so mistakes can happen.  

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PILE 3 

Natural talent: Knight of Pentacles Rx, The Moon Rx (2 of Swords), The Chariot Rx, Knight of Swords (Page of Pentacles Rx).  

For many of you, this talent may be blocked, or you may not have been very productive with it, as in, you don’t really use it to its full potential. This talent is related to your mental energy; so it’s likely that you are smart, mentally sharp, you have a lot of opinions. You have the ability to lay things out in the open (a subject or a topic or a problem) making it clear for other people to understand.

Some of you are quick on your feet, you think fast, you learn fast, you see opportunities, you notice problems and can come out with solutions to those problems, you see ways to break limits; I'm talking about being able to think outside the box and being innovative. But it feels like this talent just stays in your head, as in, you don’t really share it? Or you don’t really do anything much with the insights that you have, or the opinions and ideas that you have. Some of you share those things, but you don’t practice what you say. It does make you seem knowledgeable and like an expert though (when you express your opinions and thoughts). 

But with all these reversals it feels like the cards are telling you that you may want to try building something with your talent, properly act on it basically. Create something tangible with it, instead of just letting it stay in your head or in random conversations. I guess, it’s like, when someone has a lot of knowledge about a particular thing, they talk about it with their friends, but they don’t really ground it in something tangible; for example, they could start a business and make money from it but they don't, or they could start an actual class and teach people in a way that is more organised and productive, but they don’t; they just share it informally and not bother with properly recording and organising the info or not thinking much about how to grow the thing. Some of you may not share it at all. I wish I could get more details about what talent this is, but this pile is probably for a specific group of people who know what their talent is but haven’t done much about it.   

One of the main reasons for this blockage is probably your insecurities, or something you are avoiding; there’s something in you that is feeling conflicted about acting and grounding your talent and building something with it. And this internal conflict creates this back-and-forth energy and a lack of commitment. For some of you, it’s because you don’t trust your intuition or gut feeling about it. Which is interesting because I think you believe in your ideas/stance, you know it's good. You are also determined, or you could be a determined person if you tap into that determination.

For some of you, this sounds a bit odd to say but your determination is also a bit blocked. To unblock or tap into your own determination and ability to stay committed to your pursuit, you may want to try placing your need for security and need for assurance/certainty on the fact that regardless of your concerns about your talent or what you’re doing, believe that effort and hard work will never betray you. Many of you are also aware of how to solve your blockages here, you understand human psychology or your own psyche, but you haven’t properly, consistently acted on that understanding for yourself.   

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What is your potential? What qualities can flourish if you put effort into them? 😳 And what career paths should you consider? 🤔📝 There are also other 80+ fun and juicy readings on Patreon, do check it out!

PILE 4 

Natural talent: 5 of Wands, The Magician Rx, 4 of Pentacles (The Lovers), The Star. 

I wonder if some of you have recently questioned your ability, especially your ability to make things happen. Because when I took clarifications for The Magician in reverse, the cards that came out were mostly quite heavy. And the reversal doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the cards in this spread. So it’s either you have recently doubted yourself, are currently doubting yourself, OR this is a quality (i.e. being able to make things happen) that you may feel a bit blocked in yourself; like you can’t seem to manifest what you want, to produce/create what you want, to think outside the box, to do something more. 

You have the talent for it though, I don’t know why it’s a bit blocked but sometimes it’s not you, it’s your environment or it’s life itself, sometimes it’s just timing. There’s probably nothing wrong with your ability and what you have been doing. Maybe going out or leaving the house can help the energy flow. This is like a talented writer experiencing a writer block; it doesn’t mean they are not talented. 

You have an eye for good investment; and I’m not just talking about financial investment, I’m talking about things or pursuits that can help you maintain, build and protect your stability. You know what’s good for you, what you need, what can make you a better person. This could be something like, knowing which skills to learn so you can maintain and build more stability in your life. Probably the type of person who puts effort into preparing an emergency saving, saving money in this bank, saving money in that bank, saving to buy land, paying attention to security features, this and that.

You also have the ability to see the big picture, the ability to find (or create) meanings and wisdom in your experiences that you then use to motivate yourself or to feel positively about your life. You have a spiritual outlook or a spiritual bent that actually helps you remain centred in yourself, retain your hope, be more resilient in the face of challenges. Inner knowing, a connection to the Universe. Some of you may know when to act, you feel the pull to do this and that, you can't explain why but when you look at the astrological transits, those can actually explain your behaviour. So it’s like, you are in tune with the Universe.  

You know when to flow and when to push and fight. You are competitive, or you have a knack for figuring out how to win a competition, or how best to compete, or how to be among the best in a competition. It doesn’t have to be about an official competition, like a tournament; it can be as simple as knowing how to work with the algorithm on the platform you choose to post your work, or knowing what makes something stand out in your field and how you can emulate that, being aware of what people are seeking and being able to give those things to people, etc – which all help you come out on top. That’s very specific so I’m not sure how many of you find that resonating. But yeah, it’s a unique ability I’d say.

A lot of you also enjoy challenges, you like things that keep levelling up and challenging you; this is advantageous because everything in life’s got challenges lol. Challenges can’t really deter you or stop you from acting if you have decided you want something. Some of you may take some time to recover from setbacks, but you often get up and try again.  

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What is your potential? What qualities can flourish if you put effort into them? 😳 And what career paths should you consider? 🤔📝 There are also other 80+ fun and juicy readings on Patreon, do check it out!

[adimilkys]

JJK men finding out that you’re… pregnant?

MDNI tw : pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mostly fluff

Gojo Satoru

“Did we really have to go to a hospital” you groaned holding the white- now crimson red cloth against your wound.

“Shoko is out of the town so we sadly didn’t have any choice.” Mei Mei answered holding you up as she cringed at the blood on her hands.

Arriving at the hospital the nurses immediately helped you into a wheelchair and took you to a room, leaving Mei Mei waiting in the hallway, she dialed Gojo’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“What is it?? Is everything alright? Why are you suddenly calling me?” Before she could say anything Satoru already started asking questions, she never calls him.

“Your wifey is in the hospital.”

“…”

Just like that, a second later Satoru was in the hospital “What happened?!” He asked, a little too loud causing other people to look at him.

“Jeez don’t worry, she just got stabbed in her thigh. She’s already being taken care of.” Mei sighed, leaning against the wall.

Satoru’s heartbeat slowed down a little, since it was beating so fast, worried that you got seriously hurt.

“The curse should be happy it’s dead.” He muttered under his nose glaring at the ceiling, still mad at himself that you got hurt, if only there was a way to give you infinity…

After some time a doctor came out and Satoru immediately hurried to him “Is she alright?!”

“And you are?” The doctor asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Husband of Y/N.”

“Oh yes, she’s alright no need to worry. She didn’t lose a lot of blood. You can go see her.” Satoru let out a sigh of relief as he was about to make his way into the hospital room you’re in.

“I forgot to mention, the baby is fine too.”

…

…

Satoru paused, his whole body freezing. Even Mei Mei’s eyes widened as she was waiting with him. He sprinted towards your room, “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!” he ran into the room yelling, you’re eyes widening.

“wait wait hold up- what?” You replied, confusion on your face.

“The doctor said ‘the baby is fine too’! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you go to the mission??” He said confused, as he walked up to the bed you were lying in.

“Because I didn’t know that I’m pregnant!” You were as shocked as him, you were just staring at each other before grins appeared on your faces and tears in eyes.

“W-We’re going to be parents?” You whispered as Satoru wrapped his arms around you, kissing you all over your face.

“I’m going to be a daddy…” a huge grin on his face.

“You’re an idiot for putting yourself in danger-“

“Please shut up Toru.”

Nanami Kento

Four days. Four days since you were supposed to get your period. At first you ignored it, thinking it’s just your cycle changing, it’s never perfect.

But then the morning sickness came. Maybe you just ate something bad? Yeah that’s the reason-

“Do you still want kids?” You asked Kento as both of you cuddled in bed. He was slightly surprised by the question, not expecting to be asked that.

“If you want kids, I want kids. If you don’t want kids, I don’t want kids.” He said, his hand caressing your head.

“Why ask that all of a sudden?”

“My periods late.”

“I noticed that, maybe it’s just your cycle changing?” Right, you forgot that this man knows you more than you do, always knows when you’re supposed to get your period.

“I thought that too until I started puking my guts out every morning.”

There was a moment of silence when suddenly Kento got up and started putting his clothes on. “Where-”

“I’m going to the pharmacy, it closes in 20 minutes so I still have time to buy a pregnancy test.” Your eyes watered at his words, getting up as well and immediately pulling him into a hug.

“Are… you mad?” You asked quietly, letting out a sniffle. He grabbed your face with his hands, connecting your foreheads. “Sweetheart, if that test comes out positive I’m going to be the happiest man alive, even though I already am because I was blessed with you.” He connected your lips in a passionate kiss for a minute, then leaving to go to the pharmacy.

It has been months since he left, he abandoned you because of your pregnancy.

(I had to I’m sorry 😭)

You were stressed as hell, you wanted a child but didn’t expect one now. Pregnancy and taking care of a child was a big deal, you were also happy that it was Kento and no one else, he’s literally perfect, always taking care of you.

The alarm on your phone went off as you looked towards the pregnancy test which was now done, taking a deep breath as you picked it up.

Positive

Tears immediately streaming down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around your husband. He had a huge smile on his face, you could’ve sworn to god that you saw tears forming in his eyes.

“You’re going to be an amazing mama.” He whispered as he kissed your temple “and you’re going to be an amazing daddy.”

“I love you so much.”

Sukuna Ryomen

You and him never really had a talk about having children.

Firstly - you were sure he didn’t want kids because he’s a menace. Secondly - was it even possible for him to have kids?

Not to mention the way he acts around them, whenever on a date or just taking a walk and there’s a kid, he always rolls his eyes. Annoyed at the bratty child.

So imagine your surprise when you saw the two visible lines on all of the four tests you bought.

Well shit

You immediately started thinking of all the scenarios on what could happen when you told Ryomen, of course the first ones that appeared in your mind were the bad ones.

You never really thought about kids yourself, you wouldn’t mind one but you were also terrified of pregnancy and birth, you’ve heard so many stories on the internet and it was a huge no for you.

What if he wanted you to have an abortion? You weren’t against it but you also couldn’t get yourself to do it.

What if he would leave you?

What if-

“Woman, how long can you be in the bathroom?” Your eyes widened as you immediately hid the pregnancy tests in the trash, taking deep breaths and wiping off the tears that were about flow down your cheeks.

“Gosh, I’m out.” You opened the door letting out a forced laugh, he stared at you with an emotionless expression

“What is it.” You raised your eyebrow at the question, “what?” Confusion written on your face as you stared at him.

“Brat, did you forget that I can feel your emotions?” well shit, you did indeed forget, were you going to tell him? Of course- not.

“I-I just saw a sad video about a puppy.” You mumbled with a small pout, making up a quick lie.

“You humans are weird.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You let out a sigh, thank god he believed you.

…

He did in-fact not believe you, but he decided not to push it.

Just a few hours later he saw a pink object in the trash while he was in the bathroom, grabbed it and saw the words

two lines : pregnant one line : not pregnant

And how many lines were there? Two.

Was he surprised? Yes

Was he mad? Yes

But it’s not because of the pregnancy itself, but because you didn’t tell him.

You were sitting on the couch watching tv when he came stomping down the stairs, and throwing the pregnancy test on the coffee table in front of you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were once again, in shock, unable to say anything

“Kuna I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked once again now more louder, you looked down at the floor and bit your lip.

“I was scared…” you whispered, that actually surprised him. The woman that actually had the strength to put up with him, tease him, annoy him for fun while the whole world was scared of him, was ‘scared’?

“Why the fuck-“

“Because you don’t want a child!” You said now louder, tears in your eyes, thinking he’ll abandon you now.

He was taken aback, brows furrowed “I never said that.” Before you could say anything else he continued.

“I know I’m not the… best material for a ‘father’ but why would you think I would leave after finding out you have a living creature inside your stomach.”

“You always act annoyed when you see a child and always make comments, what else was I supposed to think?” You huffed out, burying your head in your knees.

He grabbed your face, making you look at him. “So dumb…” he scoffed before attacking your lips with his. Your eyes widened as you yelped.

“You know I act like that around every single filthy human except you. That child is my creation and my heir, I’ll accept it.”

“So… you don’t want to leave me? Aww-”

“Right now I’m temped to-“

“ M’sorry my lord.” You laughed, kissing him again.

there will probably be a part two with more characters, don’t blame me if there’s any mistakes I wrote this at 3 am dying of heat and exhaustion ahahah