#so I’m dehydrated from whispering

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I think I’ve been horribly burned out for the past year ahaha

[deebris]

Save you from yourself

Silco (from Arcane) x Wife reader

Synopsis: The tender moment between you and your daughter, Jinx, is interrupted by your sudden fainting, and Silco takes control of the situation.

Warnings: Fainting, self-neglect, based on real symptoms of dehydration, the reader is a motherly figure for Jinx, and Silco is somewhat possessive in the end, angst with fluff.

Word count: 2.3k

Zaun tonight was surprisingly quiet. For the first time in a long time, you could hear the water flowing through the windows of your room, and a cool breeze carried the scent of your daughter’s freshly washed hair through the corners. It was an incredibly comforting moment to care for her blue locks; it always brought an inexplicable peace to your mind. You really needed it after the exhausting day you had.

The affection that surrounded those moments, with both of you sitting on your bed, gently running your fingers through her strands and laughing at how Jinx always ended up sleepy, warmed your heart. But tonight, that warmth felt strange and discomforting. You tried to ignore a sudden dizziness and the chills, keeping the window open as you brushed through her long hair to continue braiding it. Was tiring work, but you loved.

“Is it going to take much longer?” she asked impatiently, something you had already expected. Complaining about the time was part of Jinx, but you took it with indifference.

“I’m almost halfway,” you tried to reassure her with a gentle, maternal tone, something she liked. “Just this one left.”

“Ugh, I hate when it takes so long,” she grumbled irritably, throwing herself back into your lap. Her movement made your hands lose the strands, messing up part of what you had done.

“Jinx!” you called her name, annoyed, but softened when you felt her cling to you even tighter, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in your belly. Her body started warming yours even more, pushing the cold away, and you stayed silent, appreciating the closeness.

“Can we do it later?” she asked in a low voice, almost needy. Jinx had a thing with physical contact; it was something she appreciated when it came from the right people. That’s why she was now closing her eyes while you stroked her cheek and the side of her head.

“It’s going to be harder to fix,” you tried to argue, struggling with the duality of wanting to stay cuddled with her or return to the hard work of finishing her hair.

“You’re warm,” she murmured, and you couldn’t see, but she furrowed her brow, feeling your body temperature against her pressed cheek.

“I think so,” your whisper came without weight, not caring about the statement. Or maybe you just didn’t have the strength to think properly anymore.

You felt drained, and your daughter had noticed your lack of energy when she took your hand to play with your fingers, interlacing them in a sort of waltz but seeing how you barely reacted to her movements, letting her have fun on her own. And you always used to play along.

“Let me finish,” you asked with much effort, confused by the new sign of your condition that had just emerged: a sharp pain in your forehead. But it wasn’t common for you to get headaches.

Luckily, Jinx obeyed without further rebellion. She stood up to allow you to finish what you had started. She pulled her legs up to her chest on the bed, pouting with a dissatisfied expression while she felt you place the golden pins.

When you had just finished braiding, your fingers fell, sliding down the braid’s length, as if keeping your arms raised for just one more second was extremely difficult. And it was.

Your dizziness worsened, leaving your limbs weak, and now you couldn’t avoid feeling a hint of nervousness as your breathing became irregular, along with the dryness in your throat.

“My love, can you close the window?”

Your request alarmed Jinx, who turned toward your voice but not enough to look directly at you. Hesitant, she stood up, and when she returned, a look of confusion took over her face.

“What...?” The word got stuck as she quickly approached, placing one hand on your back and the other on your shoulder. “What’s going on?” Her desperate tone cut through you like a blade, filling your chest with guilt.

“I... I think I’m not feeling well.” You tried to hold back the tears, but your trembling voice betrayed the effort. Just a few tears fell, as if they had run out, and the pain in your muscles and joints, which had started as a discomfort in the morning, had become unbearable. The discomfort had been easy to ignore before, but now it seemed impossible to divert your attention from it.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the dizziness that had disrupted your day, but sitting for a moment seemed to amplify all the symptoms. Maybe they had always been there, silently growing, until they reached this point.

“Say something!” Jinx’s voice sounded choked, pulling you out of the haze. You tried to open your eyes, but it was hard. She was scared—you could feel it in the way her hands trembled as she held your face. She shook you gently, the urgency clear in every movement. “Don’t close your eyes!” she screamed, her voice breaking as darkness overtook your vision.

When consciousness started to return, you opened your eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the dimness of the room. A faint light illuminated the room enough for you to realize you were lying down, now wrapped in a blanket. Your hearing seemed muffled, as if you were submerged, but amid the confusing sounds, Silco’s voice emerged.

He was calling for Jinx, trying to calm her. “Jinx, listen,” he repeated, his voice deep and firm, but filled with concern. His tone seemed to seek her attention, trying to contain the emotional storm that was overwhelming the girl. “Jinx, I told you it is fine. It is nothing serious.”

Silco’s deep voice, usually so controlled, was now filled with a disturbance he could barely disguise. As he spoke, he repeated those words mentaly, as if trying to convince not only her but also himself that this was just a temporary illness.

“B-but...” Her voice broke, and the rest of the words got stuck in her throat. Jinx seemed unable to look directly at her father; her eyes nervously scanned the room, searching for an answer where there was none. “She... she just suddenly got like this.”

“Was not sudden, Jinx.” Silco took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “We just did not notice before.” He adjusted his tone, seeking a firmness he didn’t feel, hoping to convey some confidence. “It is common. People get sick all the time. She will be fine.”

He continued, repeating the words like a mantra, silently praying they were true.

“Do you promise?” Jinx’s question came loaded with urgency, almost like an ultimatum.

Silco hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard at the weight of that word. Promising meant more than just reassuring her; it meant banishing any possibility of loss or failure. He knew he couldn’t say “yes” lightly, but he also couldn’t imagine denying that reassurance to his daughter.

His gaze shifted behind him, seeking your figure lying down. When he noticed you trying to sit up, despite visible effort, Silco felt an unexpected relief. It was a sign, even if small, that gave him the strength to respond firmly.

“I promise.” His voice came low but firm, as he squeezed Jinx’s shoulders, trying to convey a security he could barely feel.

Jinx followed her father’s gaze, and upon seeing you move, her behavior shifted instantly. With the frantic energy characteristic of her, she ran to you.

“Calm down!” Silco tried to call to her, but she was already on top of you.

You, however, were lost in confusion. Your mind felt like a blur, and the unbearable weight on your eyelids made it impossible to react or understand what was happening. The last thing you felt was Jinx’s hesitant touch, quickly replaced by the touch of calloused hands, before everything went dark again.

Silco watched as your eyes opened and closed again, what seemed like the thousandth time that night. It was as if you were waging a battle against your own consciousness and body, trying to hold onto reality as it slipped through your fingers.

He hadn’t slept. He had spent the night by your side, patiently waiting for that moment when you would finally wake up for real. Making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with the needle stuck to your wrist, connecting you to the IV that kept your body hydrated, had been an exhausting task. Every time you briefly stirred, it seemed like you were compelled to move your arms, as if testing your own strength, and he found himself forced to intervene.

“I thought you were going to pass out again,” he murmured, his voice low and strangely gentle, something rare coming from him. He carefully placed his hand on your forehead, checking the fever that, to his relief, was starting to subside.

“What do I have?” you asked, the words coming out slowly as your mind pieced together recent memories and adjusted to your surroundings.

Silco let out a long sigh, somewhere between irritation and relief. The corner of his lips curved into a dry smile, as if he found the situation so absurd it was almost comical, yet no less serious.

“You spent the whole day without drinking water.” His voice carried a hint of exasperation and he carefully brushed away the hair that was sticking to your face. “Dehydration. How, for the love of everything, did you not feel thirsty?”

His question was genuine, a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, feeling small and stupid under his analytical gaze.

Silco didn’t say anything more right away. Instead, his eyes studied you for a moment longer than necessary before he leaned back in the chair next to the bed.  

“Whatever the reason, this will not happen again,” he declared firmly, his voice carrying a tone almost possessive as he crossed his arms, as if imposing his will on the universe itself.

“Sorry,” you said, the weakness still evident in your voice, but there was also a trace of embarrassment, making your words almost a whisper.

He watched you in silence, his gaze fixed as you stared at the pillow. Even pale and visibly fragile, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever known. The soft moonlight illuminated your face, highlighting a few strands of your hair, and in that moment, something inside him softened. The hard expression he always carried melted away, replaced by a rare tranquility—a surrender to the simple relief of seeing you there, breathing.

You saw the IV, something Singed must have done, and noticing it was almost empty, Silco carefully leaned forward to remove the needle. His movements were almost methodical, but there was an uncommon tenderness. His fingers slid lightly over the skin of your wrist before touching the catheter, and that seemingly small gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if, in that touch, he wanted to send you a message: I’m here, and I will be gentle.

“Jinx will be on your case the whole week,” he stated casually, though his tone was firm, as if warning you about your foolishness that caused all this.

You laughed, the weakness in your voice softened by the playful tone. “I can handle it.”

Slowly, you pulled his fingers, as an invitation for him to come closer. Silco accepted without hesitation, climbing onto the bed beside you. He positioned himself behind you, wrapping his body around you in an embrace that, though silent, carried a desperate intensity.

His hands tightened around your waist, the fingers interlacing as if he feared that if let go, you might slip away. The warmth of Silco’s breath brushed against your neck, bringing with it the scent of the cigars he always smoked. On anyone else, or in any other situation, the smell would have been overpowering, almost repulsive, but from him, there was something strangely comforting about it. It was a subtle reminder that, despite everything, he was there—solid, present, and, above all, familiar.

Silco squeezed your waist tighter, his deep voice cutting through the silence, almost a controlled growl as he whispered against your ear:

“Do you really think you will achieve something important if you forget the basics? Forget to drink water, to take care of yourself… That is not just foolishness, it is pure recklessness.”

He held you close, his eyes wandering to a distant point in the room, as if searching for something to focus on, while trying to make you understand the weight of his words. Silco knew you had this habit of putting yourself second, neglecting your own needs for what you thought was more urgent or important.

“Stop putting yourself at risk like this,” he continued, his voice firmer, “or I woll not have any choice but to take care of everything.”

His voice, cold and incisive, sounded almost like an attempt at humor, but you knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t one for jokes. Silco didn’t care for casual remarks, and the lightness in his tone was just a mask for the frustration he felt. You worried so much about not overburdening him that you ended up ignoring your own well-being, making his biggest concern a reality: he would have to carry the weight for you.

“I take care of you… even if I have to save you from yourself,” he whispered, almost like a mantra. The words were both a promise and a necessity. He was speaking to himself, trying to reaffirm his own position, and you didn’t dare interrupt him. You just cuddled closer to his body, feeling the warmth and firmness of his words as a protection that, somehow, also felt like a prison.

[starkeysbunny]

fashion killa

cause she a fashion killa, and i’m a trendy ….

pairing - drew x model!baddie!gf!reader

summary - when drew heads to coachella for the first time with his girl, who’d been many times due to her job. the it couple known for their fashion sense, dancing in tune to songs at the festival rials up both them, and the crowd.

warnings - sexual tension :p

⠀.ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

the sun was beating down harshly, gusts of wind blowing dust all around. i felt drew’s arm pull me closer under his grasp. his strong bicep, wrapped around my shoulders.

“baby, ‘should pull the bandana up.” he says gently, his fingers reaching around by my neck to fiddle with the bandana wrapped around it.

“it’s too hot. i’ll get sweaty.” i mumble.

he sighs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. “but dust is gonna get all in your-“

“not happening.” i smile softly, turning my head to look up at him.

he chuckles, his hands lifting in mock surrender, his arm stays wrapped around my shoulder though. “alright, alright. i’ll stop.”

drew and i were at coachella. he’d never been before, and i go nearly every year. after the first two times, it wasn’t because i wanted to go anymore. it was because brands would hire me to go just so they could design my outfits for the three day festival in the palm springs dessert heat.

so naturally, drew and i being together for the past eight months, it was his turn to be dragged along to this event.

“i don’t get the hype. i mean, yeah, it’s fun, whatever. but like, why pay all this money to be severely dehydrated and covered in dust for three days?” he had told me earlier while we were ironically enough, in the encapsulated and air conditioned vip tent.

we were currently watching doja cat’s set. we stood in the vip section near the front, which was to the left side of the stage by the regular ga pit.

i was wearing a low rise denim skirt that barely held in my ass, a vintage chanel crop, paired with givenchy boots and my layers of gold jewelry. bangles on my wrists, a necklace, hoops, and many, many rings.

while drew, of course, wore his carhart brown work pants, and a loewe white tee, with a blue bandana wrapped around his head.

doja cat was currently playing, starting her song agora hills. i turn slightly to reach into my shoulder bag—which was on drew’s shoulder because why would i carry it when i had him? i grab a piece of gum, sticking it between my glossed lips.

i look up at drew to see him already grinning down at me. the slight scruff growing around his jaw and the mullet peeking out behind his neck making my stomach flutter. “want a piece?” i ask sweetly.

he shakes his head. “nah, thank you though, baby.”

i close up my purse and pat it gently as it rests comfortably, secure in drew’s bicep.

i turn back to face the stage, drew’s arm now fully wrapped around my chest, his hand grasping onto the opposite shoulder as he holds me close against his chest. i sway against him, my hips moving as i watch the performance. i chuckle when i hear a certain part of the song that i knew.

i look up at drew from my spot against his chest, a smug smile on my lips.

“rub it in their face,” i begin reciting the lyrics, my hand lightly tapping against his chest at each accent in the lyrics. “put a rock on her hand.” i raise my eyebrows, wiggling my left hand in his face teasingly.

he smirks, a small snicker escaping his lips. i turn back to the stage and i feel him lean down slightly, his lips snaking against my ear. “don’t worry, baby.” he whispers. “one day you’ll be walking down the runway with a rock on your hand. my little wifey.” he teases, gently biting down on my ear playfully.

i smile, feeling his arm pull me tighter into his chest. my manicured nails come up to hold onto his forearm against me. my eyes drift over to the ga side of the crowd, and see a huge majority of the audience’s phones no longer on doja—but pointed and zoomed in on drew and i’s interaction.

ever since drew and i started dating, the speculations and whispers were circling like wildfire. the it girl model with the new up and coming actor. who wouldn’t talk about it? but we had hoped to keep it private the first couple months��just us, no outside thoughts.

and we did, not officially confirming anything until about our fourth month in. even then, we didn’t actually confirm. our relationship is private, but not a secret. we don’t really post each other, maybe once or twice. but, drew and i couldn’t give two shits about any of it. we knew we were real, and that’s all that mattered.

“oh, they’re gonna eat that shit up, babe.” drew chuckles lowly, catching the same thing i saw.

i shrug. “let them. if all those girls that obsess over you think we’re married, maybe they’ll back off.” i joke with a smirk.

he scoffs. “you think those are your biggest problems? what about all the guys that have a subscription to vogue and cosmopolitan just to see you? i swear walkin’ in to this damn festival, why’d you think my hand was on your ass tryna hold down this little skirt, huh?”

i shake my head with a chuckle, smacking his chest playfully. “you love this skirt.” i turn slightly in his arms, my glossy lips pouting up at him.

he snuggly grins, his hands reaching around and squeezing my ass in the skirt, lifting me slightly with it to bring me closer to his lips. “hell yeah, i do, baby.”

-

it was now ten at night, the air simmering down to a much cooler temperature. drew and i were making our way back to the main stage for the headliner, asap rocky.

we were walking in tune, in the space between the barricade and the stage, security guiding us and trailing us. drew’s arm was lazily draped around my shoulders, my left hand holding his by neck. my bracelet jangle as we walk, my hips swaying in my skirt that had somehow gotten lower as the day went on. i think it was because drew kept pulling is down every chance he got…

my bandana was now wrapped around my head. as we were many drinks in at this point, earlier we were in the vip tent and i was slurring, all over drew as i rambled about how i wanted to match with him, so he helped me and tied my bandana around my head like his.

the crowd scrambled loudly when they noticed us walking by the barricade, screaming, clamoring, flashes from cameras. i grin, when i feel drew instinctively pull me closer into his side, my scantily clad body pulled tight into his warm frame.

“y/n! drew! oh my god!”

“y/n, give me a chance!”

“drew! drew! i love you!”

“you’re so hot, y/n!”

“marry me!”

i giggle under my breath and look up at drew, seeing him roll his eyes subtly at their comments. we finally make it over to the vip section. it was much more crowded now, and drew situated us so i was standing in front of him, pulled flush against his chest so i could watch the show and he could keep an eye on everything.

i hardly needed security when i had drew.

we waited patiently, quietly talking as we waited for the show to start

then, the lights went down, strobe lights flashing as the intro of fashion killa started.

i grin, turning in drew’s arms to face him. “it’s our song!”

he smiles. “it is,” he chuckles lowly.

my arms lace around his neck, his hands finding their home on my hips. i move to the music, a grin on my lips as i move my hips.

“cause she a fashion killa..” i giggle, my head plopping into drew’s chest.

“and i’m a trendy..” he trails off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

the song continues and i look up at him, my gold jewelry blinging in the lights. he smirks with a chuckle, singing along to the lyrics.

“my bitch a fashion killa, she be..” his hand comes to my ass, tapping it at each beat. “busy,” .. tap. “poppin,” .. tap. “tags.” .. tap.

“she got a lotta prada,” he grabs my hands, extending his arms as he swings me out, then pulls me back in close to him. “that dolce and gabbana,” he chuckles as he bops his head.

i giggle, burying my head in the crook of his neck. he grabs my arms again, his hands sliding up from my forearms to my wrists as he lifts them above my head. “wearin’ all the cartier frames..” he chuckles as he sings with asap.

we continue to dance and i turn around for a part of the song, my back against drew’s chest. i reach into my purse on drew’s shoulder, pulling out my camcorder. i record part of asap singing the song before drew snatches the camera from my hands, making me turn around.

he starts to film me to the song and i chuckle, my hands sliding down my waist to my hips, rolling them, my jewelry dancing with my movements. he groans, throwing his head back. he stops the recording and stuffs the camera back in my bag, his hands quickly coming to my hips and pulling me back into him.

“fuck, baby…” he says under his breath. his hands come up to my cheeks, holding my face close to his. “baby, you and me…” he sings.

“me and you.” i finish with a grin, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug against his chest.

the song continued, drew and i playfully dancing around, singing, hands all over each other. the night went on, drew taking videos of me on the camcorder, me stealing it back taking videos of him. my ass against his front as he rolled my hips against him, drinks making us a bit bolder in public.

almost everyone in the regular ga, somewhere throughout the set, lost their attention off asap, us captivating their gaze instead.

there would be millions of videos online tomorrow of us—but we didn’t care anymore. it wasn’t a secret. it was just private. just us.

-

what i imagine the camcorder looks like at the end of the night… 😝

[beanlot]

simon riley, who’s trudging through the sand, leaving the chopper. his darkened eyes, usually surrounded by smudged ink, has been diluted by sweat; the scorching three-week effort of travelling through mexico, and long before that, the confines of the dingy underground bunker they’d used as a command post.

his eyes squint harshly in response to the sunlight, pupils dilating when he sees your figure in the distance.

his wife, holding his little girl in her arms.

sometimes he feels like a failure. absent, unable to provide - no matter how much you tell him you signed up for this, marrying a man who served; no matter how much you try to reassure him that it’s fine he’s missing his child’s first steps or words.

he hates himself for it.

“look, it’s daddy!” you whisper excitedly, gently bouncing the little human in your arms as he approaches. his eyes have softened, a contrast to their usual aggression.

“hey there, my little angel..” he murmurs, clearing his throat as his hands cautiously take her from you. her eyes are big, bulging with surprise, and quickly glassing up with fearful tears.

great. the cherry on top to let you know you’re a shit father, riley.

“oh, i don’t think she likes the mask..” you murmur, trying to calm her down as she starts bawling in his arms. but he’s quick and selfless, gloved fingers reaching for the hem of his balaclava and slowly peeling it off.

“it’s just me, angel. daddy’s not scary, hm?”

“simon-“ you quickly look around, noting the disorientated faces - because he’d never taken his mask off so carelessly, it wasn’t just habit or a way to hide the torture, but it was second skin.

“it’s fine, love.” he reassures you, because for the second time in his life, he needs to figure out his priorities. and ghost, was starting to go further and further down the list, especially when he looks at his daughter; her big eyes, ones she’d adopted from you, scanning his face with amusing confusion.

she looks like an alien this close up. she’s probably wondering who the frick is this guy?

“see, baby? it’s just me..” he whispers, his desire to protect her strengthening when he feels little hands start touching his eyes.

it makes you laugh. fuck, you’ve been staring with love-heart eyes for ages now.

with your help, he’s sliding off a glove, and tenderly tracing your jaw. he missed this, your skin under his fingertips, his thumb tracing the dark bags under your eyes.

“you’re alright? everything been going smooth whilst i’ve been gone?” he murmurs with concern and doting, “getting enough rest, love?”

“i’m okay. it’s part of the job.” you nod, because you knew what you were getting into when you had the conversation, how long it took just to muster up the courage to say i think i want a baby. you knew what motherhood meant, for you and your marriage.

he admires you for it. and he’ll get on his knees and worship the ground you stand on for providing him with a beautiful family, a warm home when he needs it.

and quite frankly, someone who puts him in his place so effortlessly.

“i missed you, c’mere.” he murmurs, burly arm wrapping around your shoulder and enticing you into his chest, careful not to squish the little one. you’d sway side to side, your heartbeat cudgelling against your chest with his scent; he doesn’t smell that good, but you’re grateful that he’s just here, grateful enough to be smelling his dehydrated sweat and grime.

i missed you too, handsome.

“she’s perfect, ain’t she?” he whispers, letting you step back. his eyes are fixated on his little girl, pupils dilated with adoration; the little eyes stare back, but go to curiously analyse the surroundings not long after.

he breathlessly laughs, watching as the little hands tug at his badge. “looks just like you. thank god..”

you playfully nudge his shoulder, sighing. he looks like he’s daydreaming as he scans her - chubby cheeks that have ate well, little strands of hair, thick lashes that blink in bewilderment as she looks around.

but she’s definitely got his bitch face. she looks like she’s judging all the grown men in here.

“had a talk with the lads, and there’s some discussion about me coming home.” he states, his fingers delicately stroking the back of his little girl’s head, feeling the soft fluff. “permanently.”

“what..? but you love.. but this is al-“

“i know, love. but i just can’t.. be out ‘ere whilst you raise ‘er alone.” he pauses. you know he’s right, it wasn’t devotion that had him stuck to you like glue during the end of your pregnancy, or the birth. it was pure luck.

he wished he could’ve been around to watch your bump grow, sit there each morning whilst you retched into the toilet. he needs to be the man you deserve, the father his daughter deserves.

“i wanna be there, for ‘er and for you.” he murmurs, hand reaching out to graze your cheek affectionately. you missed the scorching heat of his palm, the callousness of the jagged scars tainting it.

it was time for him to pack his shit, scrape away all the baggage and gruel from al-mazrah and las almas. and instead, bathe in the intermingling body warmth of his wife, under the sheets on a thursday evening. praise her for the fine woman she is, kiss at the stretch marks on her hips and stomach from the beautiful life she’d created. sit beside his child as she bashes shapes against the toy sorter angrily, pretend to eat the plastic food she gives him.

it was time for him to forget ghost, just for now, and be simon riley.

[ladsheadcanoncorner]

oooh a new headcanon blog Im excited to see what you do with it ill start with a spicy ask what are the boys like in bed?

starting the spice right off of the bat i love it! thanks for the first ask, dear <3

rating: nsfw, 18+, minors dni cw: smut ✉︎♡: ask box open, tumblr users + anons

✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦♡-✦

Xavier:

We already know from so many of his cards that this man changes the name of the game to love and freakspace

The best way to get what you want from this man is, ironically, denying him whatever he wants

Tease him about his jealousy. Make an offhand comment about Charlie or, god forbid, Lumiere

Xavier is on you in seconds

He likes to push you up against different surfaces and take you from behind to start

Makes the dirtiest comments whispered in the sweetest sounding voice. “I can’t wait to see how well you take me.” “You’re already so wet and we haven’t even started.” “I’m going to show you how much you’re mine.”

Will only move to the bed once you are begging for him to be inside of you

So grabby. Your hair, your chin, your cheeks, your hips, anywhere he can reach to get a better angle inside of you

Loudest moaner punctuated with broken gasps, and he is doing all of it in your ear or with his lips flush against your skin

He likes finishing on the small of your back, watching the way it pools and covers the entirety of your backside

Never beating the sleepy boy allegations, but he will trace comforting circles on your back before falling asleep with you wrapped in his arms

Zayne:

Another contender for renaming the game to love and freakspace

Loves taking you on different surfaces. His office desk, the couch, up against the ladder in his library, in the shower

Has the most desperate sounding moan in the back of his throat whenever you go down on him

He likes positions where your legs can be up on his shoulders so that he can kiss your calves and your thighs. Loves watching you get goosebumps and shiver with pleasure underneath him

Usually steady surgeon hands get shaky when he is close, god you’ll be his undoing every time

One distinct groan and this man is definitely finishing all over your stomach. As a doctor, he’s heard all of the horror stories about accidental pregnancies, but if you get him in the right mood and you're both using protection, he can also be convinced to finish inside of you

If you weren’t doing it in the shower already, Zayne will carry you into the shower to clean up together afterwards

Sometimes this leads to round two, sometimes it ends with him lathering your skin with a touch so gentle you could cry

He’ll kiss every spot he touched to make sure that, even if he was a little rough before, you only feel how much he loves you after

Rafayel:

This man works himself up just thinking about you

Sends you a frenzy of texts that make you think he must be in some sort of mortal danger

When you get to his place, he acts all innocent like you were the one overreacting, but you can see that familiar hunger in his eyes

It doesn’t take long before he is all over you. Hands in your hair and up your shirt, kissing you so deeply that you'd think you were his first drink after days of dehydration

Likes hickeys, giving and receiving

You will be leaving with multiple marks on your neck, your chest, and anywhere else he can reach

He likes positions where the two of you have equal power. He starts on top, then you, then back to him. He’s happy to let you do the work but has no problem taking charge either

Whines and moans when he is close to finishing, he is incredibly vocal

Facial king. Bonus points if it drips down your chin and onto your chest

Most likely to post about taking your girl out to eat after absolutely railing her, but you’re so hungry and happy that you don’t really care

Sylus:

There is a TikTok where a girl is advocating for bringing back dry humping, and the president of this initiative is Sylus 

Nothing drives him crazier than seeing the way you are absolutely losing yourself by just rolling your hips over his. He likes to buck up against you so that you can feel even more pressure too

Also president of the munch club

Does everything so slowly and deliberately because he loves hearing the broken, desperate way his name is coming out of your mouth

In terms of positions, I can see him being down to do whatever you want, but if he had his preference he’d prefer more of the classic ones where he can see your face - each nuance of your expression another clue to how he can pleasure you even better

Has insane stamina and can go all night if you want, but will also call it quits the second you say you want to stop

Breathy sounds and grunts are how you know he is close to finishing

His favorite place to finish is deep inside you (he likes seeing his massive dick twitching all the way up your abdomen), but he’s also a pearl necklace enjoyer

Has a towel warmer by the bed specifically so that he can clean you up with a warm washcloth afterwards

Will never admit it but he loves pillow talk afterwards. The two of you snuggled up in his bed, you laying on his chest while you talk about your day or your plan for tomorrow or the next outfit you want to buy for Mephie. He could listen to you talk for hours, and especially loves the way your kiss-swollen lips look after

Caleb:

He loves nothing more than just seeing you in his space when he comes home from work. The thought of you in his home, all alone, waiting for him makes him rock hard before he even walks through the door

Dominant af (as if his cards/story weren’t enough of a giveaway). Doesn’t waste any time and closes the gap between you with such speed and efficiency you almost don’t realize it until he is kissing you hungrily

You: “Not even a ‘hello?’” Caleb: “I thought I’d show you how much I missed you instead.”

He is a giver, and he prefers pleasuring you in his bed (he’s a big guy, he likes the space)

Will quite literally fuck you into the sheets if you let him. He is gripping the headboard, the bedframe groaning under the sheer strength of his thrusts, and you are helpless to do anything except beg him for more

Lots of “you like that, baby?” and “you’re doing so good for me”

When he gets close, he is the whimpering king. Biting his lip, ragged thrusts, your name and a string of profanities punctuating each whimper

Another guy who I think would absolutely love seeing his dick stretched all the way inside of you when he finishes. Nothing says you’re his more than his come leaking out of you after you’ve been thoroughly fucked

Will cook you your favorite dinner after you’re done, not letting you lift a finger because you were such a good girl for him. The rest of the night you’ll be pampered to your heart’s content

[whimsyprinx]

one day I will get my cry quota to be less than several times a day, maybe I’ll get it to be at least a couple times a week

[pedrasacorn]

Jason takes care of you after getting your wisdom teeth out

A/n: by the time this is out my wisdom teeth will be gone but I heard it’s okay because they don’t actually hold wisdom :(

Warnings: short, minor injury? Sedation mention and it’s after affects, not proof read, rushed

Your body shakes as they turn on the IV drip. Your eyes search his for reassurance.

“I’m right here sweetheart.” His hand is big, and steady as it holds yours.

“Jay I’m in love with you so much.” You weep softly, words muffled by the gauze.

“Oh I know sweetheart.” His strong hands look so good working the wheel, driving you both home.

“Did you know you’re so beautiful?” Your voice quivers.

“Mhm. You’re beautiful too.” His voice is gruff, and soothing.

You gasp all too dramatically, “I am beautiful?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh wowwww…”

By the time you get home you’re half asleep. His big arms scoop you up with ease, you feel like you’re floating.

The massive bed cradles you. Jason makes sure your head stays elevated on the mountain of fluffy pillows.

You’re technically asleep but you feel him leave, and you’re weeping again.

Can’t control the waterworks.

“Oh…oh sweetness you okay? What happened?” He carefully thumbs the tears beneath your eyes away.

“W-where did you go?” Your voice feels as broken as it sounds.

“Just went to get you some things baby.” He holds up the special ice pack he bought you, gentle hands wrapping it in place around your swollen cheeks.

“S’the pink one? I love pink.”

“Yes I know.” He coos.

“I don’t deserve you.” You sob.

He rubs a hand on the back of your neck, “Oh yes you do,” he leans down to catch your gaze, “Sweetheart would you mind doing me a favor?”

You wouldn’t mind doing him all the favors, “Hm?”

“Let’s take a breath, get those waterworks to stop yeah? Being dehydrated doesn’t feel good.”

He’s right, it doesn’t. That doesn’t stop you though.

“Hey…sugar look at me please.” The anesthesia doesn’t change how willing you are to follow his gentle instructions. “There’s my sweet thing. No more tears okay? No more tears.” He whispers against your temple.

“If I can’t have tears what can I have?” You sniff.

“You can have some mashed potatoes yeah?” He seems to grab a steaming bowl of it out of nowhere.

“Oh…yeah that’s good.”

He chuckles. “I mixed ‘em with some broth.” He holds up the spoon to your lips, “Good?”

You carefully swallow. “Mhm…Jason my teeth feel big.”

“Yeah…” he’s careful not to comment on how swollen your cheeks look from the surgery.

“And they feel badly.”

“I know baby…I know. You were so brave today.” He runs his fingertips over your brow, keeping the urge to cup your cheeks at bay.

“It hurts…”

He nods thoughtfully, immediately pulled into action finding your aftercare instructions. He opens a couple pill bottles, offering each pill to your mouth in turn.

“Swallow f’me.”

And you do. And then you giggle.

“Oh I’d swallow for you alright.”

But he doesn’t laugh? He just…looks at you.

His green eyes hold the golden rays peaking through a heavy forest; his love is the first breeze of spring, and the last chill of winter.

“Your eyes are the green sunlight, and you’re fresh.” Gosh aren’t you a romantic. Some words might be missing there though.

He smiles. “You, my sweet love, are the bed that makes a home. Now hush…don’t want you hurting that pretty mouth.” He kisses your forehead.

But he wanted to say more than that. You are my reprieve.

He stays with you until you fall asleep.

[boytearscore]

i dare you to try. — chris sturniolo.

summary: you finally decided to join a car video with the triplets after years of them trying to convince you to, but when the topic “who’s more stubborn, you or chris?” is brought up, things take a peculiar turn in which chris is sure he can be the first guy you beg for, so you dare him to try.

warnings: fem!dom, chris!dom, smut, teasing, foreplay, swearing, choking, orgasm denial, size kink, bdsm.

author’s note: this one is for my chris girlies, initially i wanted to make it oneshot, but i love to tease you guys so it will be divided in two short parts, the second one will be released tonight so don’t worry and just enjoy!

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝟷/𝟸)

everything started after you filmed a video with the sturniolo triplets, you’ve been friends with them for a while and after much pleading, you finally agreed to be a guest.

it was the talk nonsense and just hope it’s funny type of shit, so you didn’t freak out too much about it.

all went smoothly, you were having fun and laughing hard every five minutes, but then they changed the topic to who’s more stubborn, chris or you.

suddenly you both were arguing about it, leaving a nick and a matt almost dying from laughing.

“bro, you’re basically a child!” you point at chris’ face and roll your eyes. “remember when we all told you to NOT drink too many energy drinks, so you inhaled fucking four and almost died from a heart attack?”

nick nods and matt is just out of breath, staring at both of you. chris crosses his arms, preparing his comeback and squinting his eyes at you.

“why is this relevant?” he asks, raising a brow. “you’re the one who refuses to drink water because ‘it tastes bad’, you’re just dehydrated, dude! drink water, it’s not that hard.”

as the back and forth argument continued, nick just looks at the camera and says:

“point proved.” he laughs and then grabs his phone. “i wonder if one of you would actually admit you’re wrong one day.”

you two look at nick, and matt agrees. “yeah, besides being stubborn, you two are also too proud.”

“none of those things are true.” you yell at matt, but your voice is shaken from laughing so they all laugh too. “i just like to stand my ground, and this little boy right here wouldn’t convince me to do shit even if his life depended on it.”

chris was dumbfounded with so many insults, but what got to him was “little boy” and the fact that you underestimated him. he was indeed too proud, but he was very confident as well, and never really had to work hard to get what he wants when it comes to his needs, so that made him hungry for proving you wrong.

unfourtunately for him, you were just exactly the same, but worse.

he looks at nick, and then at the camera, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips.

“make sure to edit this part out of the video.” he says, and the three of you just stare at him with big question mark faces, then his eyes turned to you, he had a determined expression and that just made your curiosity grow bigger within every second.

“you can say all you want…” he starts, the smirk turning into an evil smile. “but i’m sure i can make you beg.”

there was silence, an exchange of looks between you four and then the loud noises of laughter.

“beg you to do what, chris?” you ask him. “the only thing i’d beg you to do is shut the fuck up.” you leaned against the car sit, since you both were next to each other, all he did was incline his face closer to you.

“to be submissive for the first time with a guy.” he whisper into your ear, making sure nick and matt hear it too. they both are in shock, amused and extremely invested and you… well, that did not surprised you, to be honest. you always tell the triplets about your love life, how you deal with guys and so did they. there was definitely similarities between you and chris. such as, never dating, never being clingy and most importantly, always being on the dominant side.

you grin at him with arms crossed, faces still close because he didn’t back off after saying it.

“i dare you to try.” you reply with a firm tone and he chuckles while nick and matt are losing it in the back seat.

“holy shit…” nick murmured with his hand over his mouth, eyes paying attention to every detail of your mannerism to see any kind of resistance or fear on you, but he got nothing.

“so...” you finally break the silence, checking your lipgloss in the rear mirror and then turning to chris. “what do i get if you fail?”

he thinks for a while and bite his lips, trying to think of something that wouldn’t risk his social life or reputation. he knew you and your thoughts, nothing too good would come out of your mouth if you choose.

“if i fail, which i won’t…” he begins and you give him an eye roll. “i’ll listen to every command of yours, not complaining or being stubborn, and the hardest part…” he says, sighing. he can’t believe he’s about to say that. “i’ll admit i’m wrong.”

you think for a moment, plotting the most unspeakable things inside your head. there’s no reason to not agree since you know you won’t lose.

“you got yourself a deal, little boy.” you tell him, shaking his hand.

“what the fuck?” matt yells and all of you laugh, continuing the video until later that night.

[mamayan]

can we get a babytrapping yandere 🥹

Absolutely you can Nonnie~

tw: Baby Trapping • Yandere • Male Yandere • Afab Darling • Afab reader • Pet names • Manipulation • PIV • Oral (F) • Overstimulation/Multiple Orgasms • Sub! Reader (implied) • Dom! Yandere (implied) • Dubcon • Breeding

This wasn’t originally his intention.

He only wanted a happy life with you, filled with joy and love.

It’s not his fault those dense friends of yours want to keep you from him. It’s not his fault your family is corrupt and trying to tear you both apart. It’s the world’s fault for making you so naive to the evils which lurk in the shadows. You don’t know any better, looking adorably flustered as he buries his face between your thighs.

He could die here, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and shake, he really believes he’s found heaven.

“Oh god—I’m cumming—!” As you throw your head back and your warm cunt gushes, he truly knows he’d do absolutely anything to keep this perfect bubble he’s carefully crafted from popping.

You look stunning, sweaty and ruined from multiple orgasms, looking at him with such pretty trusting eyes. Panting in the bed he bought for you, the lacy lingerie he’d given you as a present hanging off your ankle and pushed up on your chest to reveal all your skin for his gaze, he knows he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

His eyes are crazed, smile distorted as he gazes at you with obsession and wild adoration. You miss it all, dizzy from dehydration and the intensity of your own orgasms. He’s never usually so forward and rough, intense and dazzling as he whispers his love in your ear.

You were supposed to be breaking up with him. Tell him you need space, something he doesn’t seem capable of giving. Instead you’re in his bed again, falling for his charm and skill in handling your body.

You’d do it tomorrow, as he easily flips you and drags your ass up as your cheek rests on the soft comforter.

“Always so precious when you cum for me…” he’s kissing down your thighs, licking up your release as driving you wild as he blows cool air on your pussy. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill this pretty pussy too.” He chuckles, acting reassuring as if you doubted he wouldn’t. “I’ll fill you up nice and good.” And you don’t see it.

You don’t see his face, darkening with something sadistic as he slicks his tip up with your juices and presses into you. His thick cock stretched your gummy tight walls, making your back arch further for him as he sinks so deep it nearly strings.

He relishes in your little squeal as he slams the rest of the way in, rolling him hips and driving the soft mushroom top right up against your cervix. His moan mixes with your whine, head falling back as he pulls out slowly before slamming back, a new pace being set of fucking you as deeply and hard as he can. Your lips open to complain, whine what you really want, faster and harder than this sensual pace, but his hand reaches around and his finger touches your clit. You shut up as he gathers your slick and smears it over your hardened nub, beginning to rub small circles around it to accompany his thrusts.

He only huffs a laugh at your behavior, how you relax and roll your hips back to meet him now as he works you towards another orgasm.

His chest meets your back, pressing you deeper into the mattress as his scent surrounds you, lips pressed to your ear as you clamp down tighter. Each little puff of warm air on the sensitive cartilage making him hold you tighter as you moan and wiggle for more friction.

“You like how I fuck you? How well we fit together? It’s like your pussy was made for me.” He groans, only riling you up further with the dirty talk as you feel another orgasm pulling at the knot inside you. His fingers keep the same pace as his hips, his tip rocking up inside you, so deep and pressing it’s like he’s trying to sear himself inside you. “You going to cum sweetheart? Milk my cock and fill your little womb?” The heat and pressure are becoming dizzying, your mind going a bit blank as you do cum, soaking his cock and balls as he speeds his pace up only now, drawing out your orgasm and causing it to intensify. His tip kissing your cervix over and over, fucking you nice and deep before he groans curses. “You’re gonna be such a good mama, fill you up nice and full, breed this fucking cunt make it all mine,” you’re cumming again, too overwhelming to focus on his concerning language as his balls draw up tight. He’s spilling into you as you spasm and tense around him, cock swelling up as his balls release the pent up load he’s withheld for nearly a month into your fertile womb.

You’d been such a good girl, taking the sugar pills diligently. You didn’t even notice you’d been off your birth control for over three months now, just after you moved out of his apartment under the excuse of needing “more personal space”.

He’s fucking you nice and full all night, filling you up over and over, growing increasingly unhinged as he imagines you swelling with the child you created together. Your family wouldn’t push him away once you figured it out. Your friends would take a seat in the back of your mind, the baby taking precedence. And there he’d be, happy and ready to provide and care for you.

“You ready for another load baby♡?” You nod in a daze as you cum for him again, exhausted and overstimulated as he groans and shoots another hot load inside you. Your lower body soaked in fluids from how much you’d both cum.

You’d be pregnant for sure by the time the sun rose.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

[evis-gossip]

His mission. Part 1: He had you.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Categories: Light angst, fluff, mostly hurt/comfort.

Warnings: Protective! Ghost (he’s a warning okay). Talk of injuries. No use of Y/N. Allusions to long hair and small body.

Word count: 0.8k words

A/N: Pls have in mind I’m super new to this fandom and have never played COD, hence, I got no clue about the lore. Feel free to let me know fi anything's wrong.

His mission. Part 2: Wake up - Masterlist

You were his mission. The 141 had to find you, unharmed if possible, forced if necessary.

But when he found you, his heart clenched. Simon didn’t even think he had feelings anymore, and yet, your curled up frame, in the corner of the room, barely covered in a thin hospital gown, the skin exposed littered in cuts and bruises, shaking and whimpering, cold and most likely terrified, he found himself questioning his own lack of feelings.

Something deep inside him made him want to protect you at all costs. Take you and cradle you in his big arms, hold you close and wipe your tears away. And that’s exactly what he did.

He put his weapon down, under Gaz and Soap’s curious and nearly judgmental gaze. He approached you as if it were the case of a small animal, with extended hands and a cautious heart.

You hid your face between your knees, expecting the hurt, the pain to come, it never did. His warm hands settled softly on your back and your knee, trying to bring a kind of comfort he never known himself. “Hey, there” he sounded surprisingly soft, but you still whimpered “It’s alright, you’re safe now”. He didn’t hesitate to sit himself right next to you, while the rest of the squad secured the perimeter.

It took some coaxing, but he finally got you to let yourself be touched without crying. He wrapped you up in a scarf from his backpack and scooped you up in his arms, cradling you like a small child. He carried you effortlessly to the aircraft, bowing to himself to not let you go unless absolutely necessary. Every time he heard you wince when he accidentally pressed his calloused hands to a bruise, he had to physically restrain himself from finding the monsters that did this to you and beating them to a pulp. But first, he was going to get you cleaned up, find out who you were and protect you with his life.

He got to the plane before you fell asleep on his chest, which wouldn’t have been the worst, but it wasn’t his plan. This was: he sat down on his designated spot and sat you down on his lap, the baklava tight around your shoulders. He pulled his skull mask off so that you saw his face and hopefully, recognized (trusted) him when you woke up. He brushed your hair back with his rough hand, mostly to make you look at him. His blonde hair was disheveled and his brown eyes tired, but kind, the type of kindness neither of you remember receiving in a long time. Maybe that’s why he took to you so easily.

“Name’s Simon. What’s yours, angel?” He broke the silence, almost in a soft whisper, bringing you out of the spell that had you lost in his eyes. You nearly squeaked as you hid your face in his chest. On one hand, he was disappointed he couldn’t get a word out of you. On the other, he was glad you found comfort in him. He still held close for the remainder of the flight, caressing your back gently, lulling you to sleep.

By the time you woke up, you were still in his arms, being carried to the medical tent at camp. He had the highest respect for his superiors, but right now, he was ignoring their orders to report the mission immediately. That could wait. He needed to make sure you were taken care of, everything else was secondary. He laid you down gently on the cot, but you whimpered and he was quick to cradle you again. You let yourself be checked over as long as he was holding you. The nurses said you needed rest, lots of fluids and mostly nutrients. He felt his heart in a tight fist at hearing you were suffering severely from malnutrition and dehydration. They had you hooked to an IV and on sedatives. Before he knew, you were out like a light, and again, not a word from you.

He wiped your still wet cheeks before finally laying you down on the cot, never tearing his eyes away from you. He had your tiny hand wrapped in his, and in your pale state, but peaceful slumber, he had the quiet to realize against his will, that he could never let you go. He didn’t even know your name. You were his mission. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. Price came by to get a mission report and “inspect the target”. Simon didn’t like the sound of that. They could run tests, get fingerprints, find your identity, what they had done to you, later. Right now, they had you, so they could fuck right off.

He had you, and he would keep you safe.

[kissenturine]

boothill,, gunplay. thats the thought,, if ur comfortable writing that ofc ofc

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 boothill x m!reader — 1.4k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: gun play, slight chocking, boothill puts his gun in reader's mouth, boothill kind of bends reader over, boothill also makes reader jerk off, uh boothill kinda mean-ish, he pretends to shoot reader, aftercare is not written but it is given! lmk if i missed anyy :3

KAI SAYS: hello guys,, shorter than usual bc ive landed myself in the er due to multiple reasons haha (chronic hives, low blood pressure, fainting spells, dehydration, etc) and i miiight not be able to post until like next weekend maybe (?) so so soso sorry for the inconvenience aaargh, writing this in the hospital too... not dying tho everything super minor so!!

The first time you ever saw Boothill pull a gun was at a training centre. He said something about wanting to work on his aim, and so he decided to head there, late at night. No one else was there—just the two of you.

Boothill pulls out his gun, flicking a few bullets into the spinning revolver with practiced ease before he pulls the trigger. A loud ‘bang’ fills the room, followed by the sound of his metal bullets clinking to the floor after the shot.

“Well color me stoked.” Boothill grins, showing off his sharp teeth. “Seems I ain’t that bad after all!”

“Well, you were always good with guns, anyway.” You respond, returning Boothill’s grin with a smile of your own. He was indeed good with guns, and it was undoubtedly attractive.

Boothill’s hands spin the revolver, watching the metal clink. It was much too fast for you to see, so you didn’t know which one ended up landing. Boothill is quick to draw his gun again, smirking as he pointed it at you—straight into your chest.

“Boothill?” You question. “What are you—”

You are cut off by the loud sound of his gun shooting. Your eyes shut and you winced instinctively, your body tensing up for the bullet that was about to hit your skin.

…Yet it never happened. 

Cracking one eye open, you peer at Boothill cautiously, only to find him gripping his metal abs, a roaring laugh rolling from his lips. “Oh, darlin’ you know I’d never shoot ya!” He laughs again, though this time it was softer. “C’mon, love, I’d never hurt ya.” He murmurs sweetly as he makes his way closer to you, his gun still in hand.

He presses the muzzle playfully against your chest, trailing it up and down your abdomen. Boothill’s smirk only widened as he slipped his gun—along with the hand holding it—under your shirt. He presses the muzzle right against your nipple, watching you shiver at the cool metal.

“Boothill.” You whisper firmly. “What’re you doing?”

He says nothing, only continuing to drag his gun against your skin, sending shivers of delight across your body.

Eventually, his gun finds its way to the hem of your pants. Boothill gives you a wicked smile before he uses his free hand to yank down your pants and boxers, exposing your half-hard cock. “Well, ain’t that a pretty sight.” He cooes, letting the muzzle of his gun rest against your tip.

“Jerk it for me, pretty boy.” Boothill says. You blink up at him, confusion filling your face.

“Huh…?” You question.

“I said.” Boothill groans, pressing the muzzle of his gun harder into your tip. “Jerk it for me, or else I’m gonna be shootin’ this pretty lil’ dick o’ yours.” Boothill wouldn’t really. You knew that. He said it himself. And yet… the fear that he would is still there, forcing small tears to well in your pretty eyes as you looked up at him desperately.

“O-Okay.” You comply, wrapping your hand around your shaft as you slowly start to glide your closed fist up and down.

“Good boy.” Boothill praises, and his voice makes your dick twitch against his gun.

You move your hand, squeezing as you get to your tip and rolling your thumb to spread your precum. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as Boothill rocked the muzzle of his gun in time with your hand.

“Look at ya.” He groans, his free hand going to squeeze at your throat. “Gettin’ off to my gun pointed at ya.” Boothill smirks, rolling the revolver again until the familiar ‘click’ sound resounds around the room. “Pretty thing, d’ya even know what this could do to you? Or are you too dumbed down already?”

“Stop teasin’” You whine, your hand's pace slowing as you turn your gaze away from Boothill’s. “Not that dumb yet…”

“Yet.” He repeats, removing his gun from your dick. “Think I can change that real quick, no?” A sharp laugh escapes Boothill’s lips as he suddenly hoists you up and off the barstool you sat on. He spins your body with only a smidge of grace as he lands you roughly on your stomach against the table, your ass now facing Boothill.

“Aeons, you’re so pretty…” He murmurs, his hands roughly groping the fat of your ass. “Can’t believe yer all mine…”

A whine slips from your lips, high and pathetic as your eyes flutter closed. “Yeah…” You whisper. “All yours…” You feel Boothill drag the muzzle along your back—sliding it under your shirt, before he pulls his arm up, tearing through the thin fabric. You shiver at the newfound cold, goosebumps prickling your exposed skin.

You hear the zipper of his pants as he pulls it down, pulling out his cock and tapping it against your clothed ass before he’s yanking down your shorts. Boothill traces a metal finger around your puckered rim, eyeing you carefully. “Such a cute ‘lil hole…” He whispers out breathlessly. “Can’t wait to fuckin’ destroy it.”

The instant Boothill stops speaking, you feel the tip of his metal cock push past your hole, stretching you out more than you could ever imagine—despite doing this with him before. “Boothill.” You moan out, eyes fluttering as you crane your neck to look at him—only to have your face pushed right back into the table by the shove of his gun against the back of your head,

“Stay still f’me, pretty.” Boothill groans, easing his cock into you. The more he pushes in, the more painful the stretch is… And yet, the more painful it is, the more pleasure your body seems to derive from it. Boothill is only halfway in when you feel like you’ve been stuffed to your limit. A pathetic sound escapes you and you feel his gun press down harder.

Boothill removes his gun from you, using it to force your head to the side. He leans down, spitting a thick glob of spit all over the muzzle, smirking as it gets his gun all messy. “Open.” He taps it against your lips, making sure to smear his spit all over. Boothill’s smirk only widens when you follow, opening your mouth and letting his muzzle sit between your pretty lips. “Atta boy.” He whispers, thrusting with full force his cock into your awaiting hole.

“Boothill…!” You moan out, though it’s muffled by his gun pressing against the flat of your tongue. Your thighs tense at the sudden pleasure. A gurgly whine leaves your throat. “I can’t—”

“You can,” Boothill growls, pressing his gun deeper into your throat. His thumb goes to spin the revolver, making sure it lands on a slot with a bullet before continuing, “and you will. Ya know why, cutie? ‘Cause you're my good boy, and good boys take what they’re given.”

He sets a brutal pace after, thrusting into you relentlessly. It doesn’t matter how you plead, all Boothill does is press his gun further down your throat—until you’re sure your lips will bleed from the stretch. Eventually, his tip knocks against your prostate, sending you over the edge. Your dick squirts a load, all over the table and floor, yet Boothill doesn’t falter.

“Look at you, cummin’ like a slut.” He groans, and his pace seems to increase. He’s suddenly going harder, faster, everything that makes your head spin with the added overstimulation.

You cry against the gun, tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Boothill seems to enjoy the sight, leaning down to kiss softly against the back of your neck, his free hand wrapping around your waist and fisting your spent cock.

“That’s it…” He coos. “You think ya can give me one more?” His hand increases, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he knocks into your prostate again and again and again. “C-C’mon, need t’do it together.” You nod your head eagerly, drool slipping from between the corner of your lips and his gun.

Boothill thrusts harshly, finally sending you over the edge for the second time, and you feel his metal dick twitch in time with you. Your eyes roll back, ecstasy overwhelming you as Boothill pumps a thick, sticky load into your ass, painting your walls white.

“You’re so good f’me…” He coos into your ear, sliding his gun slowly out of your mouth. With a familiar click, the resounding sound of a gunshot echoes throughout the room as he shoots his last bullet into the table—right by your head. “You’re always so good an’ pretty with my gun…”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I HAVE A LOT OF REGRETS ABOUT THAT

osamu dazai x reader, 18 dark ages! dazai

you take care of dazai while he’s ill and in a rare moment of vulnerability.

for 🚬 anon! thank you for supporting 🤍

inspired by this is me trying

he didn’t think it was possible to be so ahead.

he was only 18, and had committed hundreds of crimes. he was a young man, and yet the star pupil of the mafia boss. he had only been in the world for less than a few decades, and yet knew the world better than anyone.

so was he ahead, or was he behind? perhaps he was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

his head is pounding, feeling the ache in his eyes. his body feels slack, like its giving up on him despite only just growing it itself. he’s weak, and hiding out in his apartment like a coward. if someone wanted to kill him, now would be the time to do it.

luckily, thats not what you’re here to do. much to his dismay.

he was wary at first, letting you in. he says the usual- that he’ll get you sick and that he can handle himself. but the man who’s wrapped in bandages clearly can’t take care of himself, even if its just a simple cold.

so you trudge in anyway, sighing at his empty fridge with only a few expired contents. how he was surviving was a mystery to you.

so you put together what you can, forging a soup with crab meat so he’ll actually eat it. you don’t know, but he’s watching you from his bedroom.

he’s not used to being taken care of.

truthfully, he could follow his fears all the way down. he could let his shiny wheels rust, and succumb to the realities of life. its what he always preaches about, anyway. he says he wants death, but more so just a reason to go on. whether there was one for him was a different question.

he sighs wearily when you bring a bowl of soup to him, only realizing how hungry he is when he can smell it wafting towards his nostrils. “thank you, darling.” he hums, not caring for the way it slightly burns his fingertips when he takes it from you.

normally, he’d call you an angel for taking care of him, and ask you to commit double suicide holding his hand. you know he’s tired when all he can manage is a thank you before he’s eating the soup like its his first meal in days. honestly, it might have been.

“how are you feeling?” you ask, sitting next to him on the bed. he almost smiles when you put hour hand against his forehead, feeling his temperature. maybe he loves your cold hands against his burning hot skin, or maybe he loves you. probably both.

he resigns to remain strong. because he doesn’t want to be an open wound. its hard to be anywhere these days when all he wants is you, but he can’t admit that. what would happen if he trusted? if he let himself be saved? who would he lose?

“i’m okay.” he says, curving his dehydrated lips into a smile.

you sigh.

his lies are a flashback in a film reel. you’ve seen them before, but they still hurt.

“don’t give me that.” you say, clutching his bandaged hands. “let me care about you, ‘samu.”

for just a moment there, his smirk falls.

he’s used to being told that all his problems are mental. he’s used to getting wasted at bars, like all his potential. he’s used to downing everything he could have been, had he not been exposed to evil at such a young age.

evil expects evil from others. dazai himself was evil. so why weren’t you?

he doesn’t know. but he knows he’s anything but okay right now.

“i’m… tired. and my head is killing me.” he whispers, setting aside his near empty bowl of soup. he looks tired.

you don’t say anything, but he does let you gently push him onto the bed. his heart flutters when he feels you tuck the blankets around him, and end with a kiss on his forehead.

“you rest.” you hum. “i’m gonna go do your groceries. you need more than just instant food, ‘samu. but you are paying me back.”

he’s too tired to protest, and maybe he loves being taken care of. this is him trying.

[pervspace]

leon s. kennedy

contains: ftm.reader, readers clit is referred as a dick sometimes, perv leon, t-clit sucking, leon cumming untouched, overstimulation, squirting, not proofread

note: i’m kinda alive, sorry…….my horny thoughts weren’t transferring on my screen good enough

leon was relentless when he figured out you had a pussy, like, downright feral. when you first showed him your pussy he was in awe, he thought it was absolutely adorable, especially the way your clit tried to grow into a small dick. you were embarrassed about showing him, you thought he would find it disgusting. most people did, but what you didn’t expect is to feel leon’s mouth cover your dick.

“wh- hey! l-leon you can’t just-“ you were interrupted but a hard suck to your small cock, you were shivering above leon. he didn’t want to stop sucking your cock for any amount of time, he was lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man in a desert. anytime you tried to pull your hips away he let out a throaty growl before grabbing you by your ass and shoving you forward, he took you trying to lessen the pleasure he could give you as an insult.

how dare you try to stop him from sucking you off? do you know who he is? he enjoyed hearing you whine and cry out for him, the way your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair to guide his face to the best way to pleasure your cock. “shit. not close enough.” he mumbled into your cunt before lifting one of your legs to be over his shoulder, you were now stuck wobbling on one leg as leon sucked your cock like it was the best this he had ever tasted.

“l-leon! please ‘m g-gonna cum!” you warned, hips grinding into his face almost violently. he gave a hum of approval that sent vibrations to your cock, your back arched, your hands in his hair tightened, you let yourself cum in his mouth. you glanced down to see leon gulping down your cum, his eyes were hazy and his grip on your ass tightened. he needed more, way more from you. “sorry, it’s gonna be sensitive…” he whispered before continuing to suck you cock, you let out a scream before covering your mouth in embarrassment. he was ruthless now, tongue gliding all around your cute cock while two of his big fingers bullied your g-spot.

you tried to pull his head away from your cock, your body was convulsing and twitching. he was lost in your pussy, it’s like he was possessed, bobbing his head slightly to see how you would react. his eyes never left your face, he thought you looked absolutely adorable like this. tears coating your cute cheeks, sweat making you look shiny, you trying desperately to pull his head away almost made him laugh.

“l-leon…s-something’s — fuck! — coming o-out!” you were worried, it felt like you were going to pee. you tried to warn leon, tried to get him to stop but he refused, just talking you through it with your cock on his tongue. “just let go baby, you can do it. just a bit more and you’ll make me so happy, okay pretty?” you whined at his words, suddenly curling your body over leon’s head before gushing in leon’s mouth. leon’s eyes widened slightly before letting his eyes roll back, your taste alone was enough to make him cum in his pants, and it did.

he gulped down as much of the clear liquid he could, some of the liquid spilling down his chin. he was whining almost as loud as you, fingers still pumping out of you, wanting you to ride out your high. leon finally let you pul your hips away from his mouth, you looked down at leon with a small pout. leon was licking his fingers clean, he looked up at you with a smug smile. “so…still think i find your dick disgusting?”

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hello hello !!!

I hope you are doing fantastic <3

Could I request a poly!marauders x reader where reader randomly faints in the middle of class after complaining that she felt a little dizzy and the boys comforts her ? (I have no idea if you already wrote for this, if so, I apologize !!)

Lots of love <33

Hi lovely! This isn't super saccharine with the comfort, I hope that's okay! poly!marauders x fem!reader, mondern!au

cw: fainting, swearing

724 words

You sat on the bench outside of your classroom, a half-eaten granola bar crumbling onto your lap when James all but fee-fi-fo-fummed down the hallway towards you, still flushed after rushing here in the middle of practice. 

“Jamie! Be quiet.” You scolded, cutting your eyes towards the open classroom door, the lecture still in progress. 

“Are you okay? Did you fall? Did you hurt yourself?” He knelt in from of you, checking for injury. 

“I’m fine. I was by my chair, my deskmate caught me.” He didn’t look very relieved. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He pulled his phone out, typing in a number. 

“I just felt a bit dizzy, I have since this morning.” You started. James put his phone down when Remus and Sirius walked through the glass doors. 

“We’ve got the car pulled around.” Sirius scrambled his words out, rushing to you. 

“Remus! Don’t you have work today?” You whisper-scolded. He just rolled his eyes. You went to stand up but all the boys flinched. 

“Careful!” James’ hands shot out to gently push you back down. “Don’t get up too fast.” He beckoned Sirius to cage you on the other side. 

“I was able to walk out of the classroom just fine on my own.” You still took hold of James’ arm and allowed him to walk you out. 

“You’re feeling okay now though, right?” Sirius’ tone was laced with anxiety. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” You reached for him with your free hand.

“Do you know why you fainted?” Remus asked as he pushed the heavy door open, leading you straight to the car. You and James climbed into the backseat, Sirius in the front (it was just like him to never give up his shotgun seat), and Remus driving.

“No.” You could sense the downturn of his mouth without even having to see. “But I’m sure it’s nothing major.” 

“Um, babe.” Sirius was half concern and half sass. “I’m pretty sure that fainting without an apparent reason is very fucking concerning.” You were about to respond but James got there first.

“Why don’t we just backtrack.” He turned to you. “Did you sleep all right last night, angel?” You nodded. “Did you eat today?” You nodded again. “What did you have?” 

“Toast.” You responded. 

“Just toast?” Remus asked severely. 

“It was two pieces. And it’s only just past noon.” You reasoned. He looked displeased but didn’t argue more. James took that as permission to continue his gentle interrogation. 

“Did you have water with that, lovely?” He looked at you, an air of knowingness in his gaze. You rolled your lips in shame. Sirius turned around in his chair to look at you aghast. You knew that Remus was preoccupied with you, since he did not lecture him on seat belt safety. 

“Baby! We literally talked about this yesterday.” 

“Oh like you’re any better.” You scoffed. “If I remember correctly you were also being lectured yesterday.”

“Oi! My water bottle is half empty right now I’ll have you know.” He huffed and turned back around dramatically. You could see Remus rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Back on topic please.” He scolded. James took the mantle back. 

“Angel, I think you probably fainted because you were dehydrated.” He said gently. 

“And because you didn’t have a proper breakfast.” Remus scolded. James gave him a look begging for patience and dug through his gym bag. He fished out a full bottle of water and a protein bar. 

“This isn’t much but it will do until we can get some decent food in you.” He handed them over, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. You rolled your eyes, pretending that you weren’t actually very hungry and thirsty. You drank the water in just a few large gulps. 

“Someone’s thirsty.” Sirius deadpanned. 

“Yeah, you. For attention.” You sassed. He turned around, squawking indignantly and swiping at you like a cat. You tried to kick him from your seat but Remus caught your foot. 

“Can you please refrain from fist fighting until we are out of the moving vehicle?” He was trying (and failing) to sound reprimanding. You grumbled. 

“You shouldn’t be fist fighting with the sick and injured anyway, pads.” James said, placing a hand on your thigh. It was Sirius’ turn to grumble. 

“Alright, fine.” Sirius said, faux indigent. “But the minute you’re better, it’s on dolly.”

[xxaraaq]

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Synopsis | During a training session, The slayers accidentally meet Sanemi's wife and child

wc | 0.5k

cw | none

Sanemi x black! Reader

A/N | The idea just came to me and I wanted to write it down, so I did. I hope you enjoy!

The shock everyone faced at the sight of you was priceless. If you were a stranger passing by, you would think they had seen a ghost pop out from the shadows from the way their faces contorted from exhaustion to pure shock.

It was midday, the harsh sun beaming down on everyone as they lunged at Sanemi in futile attempts to even graze him. It was impossible of course; but they didn’t have a choice, so they practically threw themselves at him, only to be knocked back like they were nothing more than troublesome flies.

Sanemi was the first one to hear your son's footsteps. He freezes, turning to face the loud stomps of your two year old. He runs to his father, tripping over his feet and stumbling to the ground and getting back up as if nothing happened. Not a second later he hears your labored breaths as you try to catch up.

His eyes soften the slightest bit as he walks towards the two of you. He doesn't waste a second before scooping Genji up and walking over to you. He hears the hushed whispers of the trainees behind him, disregarding it as he closes the distance.

“I’m sorry, I was in the middle of stitching up my kimonos and he just took off.” You start, hand coming over to rub your swole belly. “I couldn’t catch him in time, I promise I didn’t mean to interrupt your training session.” You huff, out of breath. 

He smiles, amused as you look worriedly. “They’re staring at me like I’m a witch.” You whisper, shrinking under their curious gaze. “Them? They’re not important, ignore the little shits.” He says, keeping your sons wandering hands from tugging at his hair.

“Well,” You smile, hand pressing affectionately against his chest. “I think it’s time for them to take a break. They all look dehydrated and it’s a good time to eat lunch.” You say, taking your

son in your arms as he babbles about nothing.

Sanemi sighs, thinking carefully about your words. He doesn’t want to let them go early, they’ve been pissing him off more than usual today; but he did want to spend time with his family. He groans deeply, turning back to the trainees with an unamused look adorning his face. “Get out of my sight, and make sure you thank my wife; she’s the reason you get an early lunch.” 

They scurry off almost immediately, shouting words of thanks and gratitude as they sprint out of the wind hashiras sight. “Now, where were we?” he asks, pulling the bow holding your braid together out of Genji’s mouth. “I was saying sorry for being so pregnant that I can’t keep up with our two year old.” You laugh, walking over to a rock to sit down.

The thought of the corps soon finding out about him having a wife and soon to be two kids lingers in the back of his mind. All that matters is this private little moment. 

All that matters is his family.

-Nene

[woso-story]

Healing Love

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was early in the morning when you stirred from your sleep, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in comfort. For a moment, you thought you might just drift back off, but then you realized something felt... off. You shifted slightly, blinking into the soft glow of the morning light creeping through the curtains. Alexia wasn’t next to you. 

You frowned, glancing at the clock on your nightstand. 4:00 AM. 

That was unusual. Alexia was always up early, but not this early. Even for her, 4 AM was pushing it. You turned over, stretching, and instinctively reached for her side of the bed. Empty. 

A bit groggy, you swung your legs out of bed, rubbing your eyes. Something didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t like her to get up at such an early hour without saying anything. You pulled on a loose t-shirt and quietly padded down the hall, hoping to find her in the bathroom or the kitchen.

You checked the bathroom first, but it was empty. Confused now, you stepped into the living room, your footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. That’s when you saw her. 

Alexia was lying on the couch, covered by a thin throw blanket. She had one arm draped over her forehead, her face relaxed, but she didn’t look comfortable. Her body was contorted in a way that made you frown—she usually hated sleeping in strange positions, always preferring the bed. You couldn’t help but wonder why she was out here.

Your thoughts raced. Had you fought the night before? No, everything had been fine. You’d spent a quiet evening together—no arguments, no tension. So why was she on the couch?

Before you could think too deeply about it, Alexia suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit, her body jerking with each breath. 

Without thinking, you rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. Your hands were steady, but a sense of dread filled you as you returned to her side. You kneeled down beside the couch and offered her the glass. She took it gratefully, drinking slowly, her coughing eventually subsiding. 

It was then that you noticed something strange. You weren’t touching her, but you could feel the heat radiating from her body, the warmth almost palpable. 

You gently placed your hand on her forehead, and the moment you made contact, your heart sank. She was burning up with fever. You immediately checked her face—pale, with a glossy sheen to her eyes, and her lips cracked from dehydration.

"Lex," you said softly, concern clear in your voice. "You’ve got a fever."

Her voice was raspy when she answered. “Thank you... for the water,” she murmured weakly.

You sat down next to her, running your fingers through her hair. “You should be in bed, not out here on the couch. What happened?”

She looked at you, her eyes a bit unfocused. "I didn’t want to wake you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I thought you needed rest.”

You raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “No, you need rest, not me. I’m staying with you.” You could feel the protective instincts kicking in, the same ones that always came when Alexia wasn’t well.

She tried to protest, her voice hoarse. “It’s not necessary. I have training soon... I’m fine, just a little cold, I’ll be okay.”

You frowned, not amused. "Training? You’re not going to training, Alexia. You’ve got a fever, you need to rest, not push yourself."

She tried again to argue, but you weren’t backing down. “The matches are coming up. I’m one of the captains, I can’t just skip out because of a cold. It’s nothing.”

You shook your head firmly, your voice growing more serious. “No, Alexia. You’re not going to training for the next few days. You’re staying home, and you’re going to get better.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the look on your face was enough to make her pause. There was no room for discussion. You had made up your mind, and she wasn’t going to win this one. 

With a long sigh, she nodded, clearly too tired to argue further.

You stood up, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over you. “Good. Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

You left her on the couch and went to the bathroom. You quickly started filling the bathtub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil for some relaxation. While the water ran, you returned to Alexia, helped her carefully to her feet, and supported her as she made her way to the bathroom.

She was weak—no surprise, given the fever—but she didn’t protest. You helped her undress and carefully guided her into the warm bath, the water soothing her feverish skin.

As she sank into the warmth, you left to prepare the bedroom, laying out fresh sheets and blankets. You set up a comfortable spot for her to rest, ensuring she would have everything she needed.

When she was done with her bath, you helped her out of the tub, drying her off gently before dressing her in soft, comfortable shorts and a hoodie. She looked exhausted, her movements slow, but you could see the slight relief in her face as the fever seemed to subside a little.

You helped her into the bed, making sure she was tucked in with plenty of blankets. You gave her some medicine to bring the fever down and checked her temperature. It was 39.3°C, still high, but a little lower than when you had first found her. You kissed her forehead, a soft and gentle touch. 

“Get some sleep, Lex. You need it.”

She gave you a weak smile and nodded, immediately sinking into a deep slumber. 

While she rested, you quietly texted the Barcelona staff, explaining that Alexia was sick and would be staying home for the next few days. 

---

The next time she woke up, it was around noon. You were sitting next to her in the bed, reading a book, your hand gently resting on hers. She blinked slowly, rubbing her eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice soft and caring.

“Better,” she murmured. “But... I still have a headache.”

You smiled at her, standing up to get the soup you had prepared earlier. You helped her sit up slightly as you spooned the warm, homemade soup into her hands. After she ate, you checked her temperature again—it hadn’t changed much. You could tell she was still weak, but there was something comforting in the way she trusted you to take care of her.

“More medicine?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

“Please,” she whispered.

You administered the medication, and she soon fell back into a restless sleep. The next few days passed in a blur of caring for her—checking her temperature, bringing her fluids, and making sure she was comfortable. You hardly left her side, even as the days grew longer and the fever began to break.

---

By the fourth day, Alexia was finally starting to feel better. She was sitting on the couch, a playful smirk on her lips. 

"You know, you make a pretty perfect nurse,” she said, her voice still a bit hoarse but teasing. “Maybe you should get a costume to complete the role.”

You laughed, giving her a soft swat on the back of the head. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

Before you could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. You opened it to find Mapi and Ingrid standing on the threshold, holding containers of food. Mapi barely spared you a glance, only saying a quick "Hola" before breezing past you to join Alexia on the couch.

Ingrid chuckled softly, shaking her head at Mapi’s antics. “She couldn’t stay away,” Ingrid said, stepping into the apartment. “She’s been worried about her.”

You nodded, letting them in. Ingrid had brought some cooked meals and snacks, clearly aware that you probably hadn’t had much time to go shopping during the past few days. You thanked her for her thoughtfulness, feeling a little overwhelmed by the care everyone showed.

As Mapi sat next to Alexia on the couch, chatting animatedly about what happened the last days at training, Ingrid stayed in the kitchen with you, the two of you talking about how Alexia was doing. Mapi, true to her nature, had made everything sound like it was a grand tale, even though most of it was just mundane updates. But Alexia was smiling, genuinely enjoying her best friend's presence. You could see the relief in her face as she laughed along with Mapi’s endless stories.

The rest of the afternoon passed with laughter and lightheartedness. When Mapi and Ingrid finally left in the evening, Alexia was back to her usual self—feeling much better and joking about how she had missed Mapi’s incessant chatter. 

The next day, Alexia returned to training, but when she came home, she had a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She handed them to you with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice still tender. “For everything these past few days.”

You took the flowers, leaning in to kiss her softly. “You don’t need to thank me. I’ll always be here for you—especially when you’re sick.”

She smiled and kissed you back, pulling you into her arms as you both settled on the couch, a movie playing in the background. The world outside faded away as you simply enjoyed being in each other’s company again, both of you feeling content and at peace.

And for the first time in a while, everything felt just right.